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Weed and Kinky Shit

For CodySun

By Draconicon

John grumbled as he shook out the little baggie that he'd hidden in the bottom drawer of his dresser. As much as the herbal stink of the weed stash still lingered, there was nothing left of the last bit that he'd bought off the corner. The Doberman groaned, throwing the bag in the trash without a second thought as he tossed himself into bed.

"Shit, and here I was planning on taking advantage of an empty house today..."

His brothers didn't leave the house at the same time very often. Most of the time they were hovering around, always in the way, always getting on his nerves, but for once, they were gone. Older and youngest brother both. It would have been a great opportunity to get baked and just get off a few times, but noooo, his stash had to be completely gone at the same time.

Should have picked something up before the weekend, but he thought he'd still had some. Maybe his brothers had come in and taken some of their own, or -

Ring ring.

Ring ring.

The Doberman rolled his eyes, fumbling for his phone. Snaring it on the last ring, he yanked it from his pockets and pulled it to his ears.

"Hello, you've reached the house of Nobody Cares. Leave a message at the beep."

"Heh, out of shit again, huh?"

"Yeah, I am, Victor. What was your first clue?"

"The shitty attitude for a local dealer, for one," the bull said. "Going to be all pissy, or do you want to hear some good news?"

"...You got something?"

"I might. Something new, heh, something a little...hotter."

That got John's attention. Victor wasn't what anyone would call 'good people,' inasmuch as he was a dealer and a grower at the same time. Bull wasn't that bright, but he'd gotten the right advice from others in how to deal and grow without getting fucked over by the local regulations. The bull was also really, really lucky with his 'happy little accidents' in his 'garden,' and there were always some kind of variation coming up that needed testing before it hit the street markets.

John was one of those that were regularly tapped to test. The Doberman was aware that some of the stronger strains had knocked him right on his ass and he was all but sure that the asshole bull had done something to him while he was unconscious, but he had no proof. All he knew was that he'd passed out and then woken up with a bit more soreness than he could easily explain.

"You need a tester?" John asked, the Doberman sitting up. "I can be right over."

"I might. You got the time? This stuff's hot and strong."

"I got time. I got all the time in the world."

"I can do an overnighter with this one."

"Deal."

He cut off the call and stood up, stretching his arms overhead and grabbing his shoes. They were ratty, on their last legs, but the last thing that anyone wanted to do was go barefoot in this neighborhood. The broken bottles, shattered needles, and worse all along the streets even convinced some of the horses to put some shoes on their hooves to avoid some injuries, and when horses started willingly wearing shoes, that was the last straw for the neighborhood.

He walked 'round the corner, checking himself in the hall mirror for a second. No rich-looking accessories, t-shirt stained just enough to look a bit rough but not so down and out that someone would beat him to take the last of his shit. Jeans a little torn, but not the rich-guy, pre-torn style. Real wear and tear. And himself...

Ugh, probably need to eat a little more...

He ran his hand along his muzzle. Nothing but drawn skin there, no fat left. A fair bit of muscle along his shoulders, but it was all the lean sort of thing. He had no big, throbbing muscles like some of the guys did, more like a twink that was leaning further and further towards a bit of a stick shape. Not doing well and not doing much; that was the way that his brothers described him most of the time, though they could get fucked as far as he was concerned.

Shouldn't get much attention on the street, he thought, and walked out the door.

#

"No problems getting here?" Victor called from his back yard.

"Just one," John said, rubbing his jaw. "Little fight with a little shit-rat that was high on something."

"Heh, you know how it goes. They get high, they get stupid."

"Yeah, well...same with your stuff."

"I'm doing the smart thing. I keep a nice complicated lock on the door so I can't just leave when I get high."

That was true; the bull's set-up was a tall fence around a comfortable backyard, with a strong lock on the fence gate. There was no way of hitting the streets from there, and from what he remembered of the one time that Victor had let him into the house, the bull's hallways were filled with crap that'd slow down anyone that was trying to get from one end to the other. Anyone high on Victor's shit would have a hard time remembering where they were trying to go and probably give up before they got there.

He leaned on the fence, looking down at the reclining bull. Victor clearly planned to sample his product a bit as well, considering the fact that he was already stripped down to a pair of briefs. Stained with a little bit of sweat along the front, the bull's package - soft, for once - pushed forward and nearly pulled the leg holes open with the sheer size of what he had down there. John didn't look for long, shaking his head and gesturing at the gate.

"Gonna let me in?"

"Heh, what's the matter? Lose your key?"

"You never gave me one, asshole."

"Riiiiight. Let me get that."

"Wait, have you been giving keys out?"

"Heh, ain't giving away all my secrets here, man."

Rolling his eyes, he let his frustration die in the corners of his mind. There was no point in airing any complaints with the bull right now. It was more important to get some of that hot shit and have a good time, and Victor had a way of letting complaints turn into bans from his little garden. Considering the bull was one of the only reliable dealers in the neighborhood that didn't jack his prices up every other week, the Doberman wasn't going to be cutting his supply with a bit of pissed-off ranting.

The red-furred bull walked around the little fire-pit blazing away and the nearby pool, undoing the lock that kept the gate closed. As soon as it was open, John walked through, making his way to the folding chairs around the pit. He took a seat and leaned back -

"Ah, you know the rules, man," Victor said. "Down to briefs."

"You serious?"

"You know I am."

"Fucking hell, man. You're acting like the cops are gonna bust you any second or something. You seriously think I'm wearing a wire?"

"My rules, John. You know how it goes."

"Fucking...fine."

There was no way that this bullshit wasn't just for Victor's pervy amusement. Nobody came to the bull wearing a wire, and John would bet that the cops wouldn't give a flying fuck about him. The bull didn't have any gang associations, didn't play with the local dealers by getting into any of the harder, scarier stuff. All he did was pass around the fun shit and occasionally invite people to try some of the new, weird shit that he came up with.

But every fucking time, he made people strip down to their underwear and stay that way. It was ostensibly to keep him safe, but he was pretty sure that Victor was just perving on everyone while they hung around.

Shirt, jeans, and shoes came off in a rush, landing on the ground and getting piled up beside his chair. He leaned it back, the front coming up a bit further to prop his feet up toward the fire, and he wiggled his toes at the heat flicking over them. Nice feeling, really, and he shook his head as he got comfortable with nothing but his tight white briefs on.

"Satisfied?" he asked.

"Heh, more or less. Here."

The bull passed him the bong. With a practiced motion, John took one of the fire sticks from the pit and tilted it to the proper opening. With his muzzle sealed around the top, he took a breath as soon as the smoke started to flow -

And he immediately regretted it. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he almost ended up throwing the bong away. He wheezed through the much thicker-than-usual smoke in his lungs, gasping and coughing as Victor chuckled across from him.

"What the...what the - cough - what the fuck, Victor?!"

"Hey, it's good shit."

"It's fucking ass!"

"Hey, hey, give it a chance, man. You barely took a breath. Gotta take this one easier."

"Fucking..."

Despite wheezing away with a few coughing echoes still coming free, he could feel something. There was a heat in his chest that was already spreading through the rest of his body, passed through his blood and into his limbs, all the way down to his fingers and toes. It was like a blanket settling around him, and...okay, yeah, there was something nice about that, something that kept him a little...calmer, a little happier.

He took a slower hit the second time, lighting it up and letting it settle. Rather than a hard huff, he took a much slower breath, almost like he was slowly sucking it down to his lungs rather than trying to huff it in all at once. The heat was a bit bitter-spicy in the back of his throat as it went down, but it went down much easier this time, though with more of that same burning, tingling, weird feeling as it settled into his lungs.

"How is it?" Victor asked, taking the bong away.

"Hoooo, boy..."

It was an experience and a half. He was used to his weed taking a while to kick in completely, but this one brought that heavy, happy, relaxed feeling almost right away. And more than that, the 'heavy' feeling wasn't quite so bad as it had been with some of the other strains. He felt like he could still move with relative ease if he wanted to, but everything was just...comfortable staying where it was.

And he felt...vaguely more sensitive, too, like his body was a little more aware of everything. Thought was a little hard, but that was something that he was used to from past experience. The Doberman smiled, extending his legs a bit further toward the fire, enjoying the hot air coming out and running along the bottoms of his feet.

Sweaty...

He wasn't usually aware of that unless things got rather out of hand with running around during the day, but this time, he was very aware of the sweat drops running along the bottoms of his feet, spreading out along his soles, running from his toes down to his heel and then dripping off towards the grass below.

"So? Details, man, details," Victor repeated.

"Ugh, killing the vibe, man..."

"Heh, come on. I need to know."

"Fiiiine."

He grunted, fumbling through the motions to sit up a little straighter. It was...doable, though not as easy as he would have liked. Once he was upright, he was able to look back at the bull -

"What was I going to say?"

"How this feels," Victor said.

"Oh, right, right." John shook his head. "Feels...good. Heavy and warm, but...but still capable this time. Yeah, capable's good word. Feels like I can do what I want, and -"

"Caterpillar."

"Hu-wha?"

"...Pfft."

The bull chuckled, covering his mouth as John just stared at him. He was sure that he'd been saying something, but as he tried to look back, he couldn't remember what sort of track he'd been on. Groaning, the Doberman slumped back in his chair, shaking his head.

"You're being an ass-hat."

"I know. It's funny."

"Dick."

"Sorry." Victor shook his head, putting the bong to the side. "Anything else besides heavy and warm?"

"When did I say that?"

"Just now."

"...Shit, that's strong shit." John shook his head. "Can't remember just doing that...fuck. Uh, guess there's some serious short-term memory frying, then. And, uh...oh, fuck..."

The usual hunger hit him, but it hit him far harder than usual, making him feel completely ravenous as soon as he was aware of it. His guts started rumbling, all but screaming at him as he wrapped one hand around his middle and shook his head.

"Fuck, I'm going to need some food. And fast."

"Figured. Got the usual snacks in the kitchen. Anything else? Any dry mouth -"

The second Victor mentioned that, it hit him just as hard as the hunger. He swallowed hard, rubbing his throat as he nodded as hard as he could. The bull just rolled his eyes at the reaction.

"Seriously? Both?"

"Nnngh, you asked."

"Only got some milk this time."

"Fucking good enough. Come on..."

"Alright, alright. Gimme a second."

Victor stood up and walked into the house, leaving John alone in the garden. He leaned back against the chair properly, getting comfortable once more as he tried to deal with the dry mouth and the heavy case of the munchies that the drug brought on. He had expected something like that, but he hadn't expected it to hit quite so hard as it did. Rubbing his face and his neck, he imagined how that drink would taste. Good, probably.

But there was something else in his head, something that he remembered from a past experience with Victor. There was...something...

Probably something pervy...

It wouldn't come to him, probably buried under all the happy-smoke that he had already taken in. He could have gotten up and walked it off a little, but he could already feel the slight weakness that had made it hard for him to sit up just a moment ago. Getting up would probably end up with him falling in either the fire pit or the pool, and either one would have its own problems.

So, he stayed where he was, the tongues of flame licking the air, and the heated air licking his feet. It was genuinely like little ephemeral tongues dancing around his soles, and he occasionally giggled at the little feeling down there.

Didn't take long for his feet to get all sweaty, and that sensation was soon followed by a different one. Throbbing between his legs, throbbing and swelling, his underwear stretching a little around a boner slowly rising from between his legs. He grunted, adjusting it so that it wasn't quite so obvious, but just touching himself -

"Mmmph..."

It made him blush to realize just how sensitive it was, and how he was just...exposed. All out in the open, barely protected by a fence. Nobody was going to be hopping that to come after him, of course, but there was...there was a sense of...vulnerability. It was strong, too, something that he hadn't expected by just...just being out in the open and almost naked, and high, and not wanting to move.

Hot.

Slick.

Exposed.

He was sweating from all pores now, the heat from inside and outside combining to make him feel all slick and shiny. Groaning under his breath, John tried to adjust himself again, but all he could do was slide further down the chair, presenting his feet more fully to the heat of the fire. He felt...slippery, wet, warm, and almost like some of that heat was saturating the bottoms of his feet, sinking in and keeping them hot.

More.

More.

More.

"Hey, I'm back."

He grunted, shocked from his ruminations as he looked up at the bull. Victor was still just in his briefs, too, and standing beside him, the big guy looked particularly big between the legs. Probably the problem of being a bulge height. John rubbed his eyes, one arm moving far too slow, the other feeling a bit faster than it should. He adjusted that, slowing them both down before reaching for the cup he was offered.

"How long did that take?" he asked.

"About five minutes. Wanted to get you some snacks, too, but figured you'd want a drink before you had something to calm your guts down."

He nodded, taking the glass of milk. It was...a bit warmer than he was used to, but considering that Victor kept everything hot, he guessed that was just par for the course. Shaking his head, he tilted the cup back and swallowed the first mouthful. Thicker than usual, and almost fatty in a way, with a sort of slimy texture that was harder to swallow. He had to force it down, and kept swallowing harder and harder to just chug the whole mess down. It was helping, as much as he hated to admit it, but it was well-past unpleasant, and he groaned every time that he got another mouthful down. He kept chugging until the glass was empty.

And then, and only then, did Victor start laughing.

"Okay, what? What the hell did you do to the drink?" John muttered.

"Surprised you can't guess."

"I'm hiiiiiigh," he protested. "Be nice."

"Well, I'm a bovine."

"So?"

"So, I milked myself."

"...Please tell me that you're just..."

"Well, I do lactate," the big red bull said, reaching up and pinching one nipple to demonstrate. A slow leak of yellow-white pushed past the darker red flesh. "But it wasn't just that."

"...You son of a bitch."

"Hey, now you can say you know what bull milk tastes like."

"Fucking..."

John rubbed the side of his mouth, feeling some of the slime still sticking to his muzzle. The sheer humiliation of having been tricked into that was already fading away, and he knew that his buzz would carry on until he was completely back into that happy, stoned state of mind that he had started with. There was something about being high that, unless someone kept really pushing the bad stuff, one's mind and body would keep auto-correcting an emotional course until you were happy and quiet again.

It was nice. Better than real life by a fair shake.

The cup was taken out of his hands and replaced with a snickers bar. He started nibbling on it, and continued from there to some peanut butter snacks. Old standbys, those, and he was glad that the bull kept them around.

As they got comfortable, the 'milk' taste faded away and was replaced with the more generic taste of the snacks and the pieces of them. John lost track of time and space, focusing more and more on the general feel of his warm body and the sense of the smoke that felt like it was passing through him in an ever-more-intense sort of way. He felt...floaty, warm, but at the same time, weighted down.

Mostly by his balls, it must be said. His awareness of his cock and balls, and of the sheer need that was down there, was higher than any of the other strains that he had tested for the bull. He didn't know why, but there were moments when he almost wanted to pull his dick out and give it a good tug, despite the fact that the dealer was right there to see it.

And there were moments, rare as they were, that he was sure that Victor was waiting for him to do just that. The bull kept staring at him, eyes locked ever so briefly on his balls, or his cock bulge, or even down at his feet. The Doberman didn't know how to feel about that, curling his toes as he looked up and then looked away again. The constant feeling of those eyes on him kept pushing through the heated feeling of his high, and he didn't like it.

Time ticked past, and little by little, he could feel the heat fading away. He groaned, scooting his chair closer to the fire pit. The flames licked the air, and he probably was pressing his luck with how hot it was near his soles, but the feeling was nice. It was like the sweat was pouring down his feet, running down to his heels and then falling away. Some of the droplets hit the fire and evaporated instantly, while others hit the grass when the wind blew a different direction.

Through it all, Victor stared, and John grumbled, the canine pulling his ears flat against his face.

"What do you want?" he finally asked.

"Huh?"

"What do you fucking what?"

"Nothing. Just enjoying getting high."

"Yeah, right."

"...Well, if that's how you want to be, you can go. You know, since we're done testing the goods."

As soon as Victor stood up, John groaned. He didn't want this to be over. This was the best fucking high he'd had for months. Better than the shit that he got from his other dealers, better by far than some of the other strains that Victor had pushed on him. And the bull wanted him to just go? Not a fucking chance in hell that he would do that.

He grabbed the bong before the bull could take it. They held it together, the dealer looking down at him with a raised eyebrow while the Doberman grumbled under his breath.

Am I seriously going to do this?

The answer was yes. As humiliating as it would be to offer himself to the big bull, it'd be a hell of a lot more humiliating to just walk off with nothing but a boner and some slightly soggy pants for this little deal. He needed more, so much more, and if that was how he had to get it -

"Let's make a deal."

"Heh, ain't selling this for free."

"I know. Shit...fuck..."

He remembered the way that the bull had kept looking at his sweaty, heated feet, and he knew that was going to be the selling point for the big guy. He let go of the bong and leaned back, bringing his soles up. One pressed against Victor's cheek, and the other dropped down to his underwear.

Not surprisingly, the bull's cock was rock hard in seconds, pushing forward and stretching the underwear nearly to its breaking point. He ground his sweaty sole against it, pressing his toes against the forming bulge and swallowing his own annoyance. Not that hard to swallow when he was still mostly high, really, and he was getting a boner of his own as he stroked his feet across the bull's face and bulge.

"You get to...fucking play with these...and I get a few more hours of this."

"Heh, you're starting to get how I work."

"Just...do your thing - mmmph!"

Victor's first lick across his feet was more than enough to shock him. He had always been curious what those foot-freaks saw in getting their soles lapped at and their toes sucked, but that first lick hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was almost as good as that one time that he got the local slut to give him a 'free sample' with her mouth, getting him off with a good, sloppy blowjob, but this was...this was just his feet getting licked. What the fuck?

He groaned as he leaned back, still feeling that same heavy, clumsy feeling that was always weighing him down. He could only really watch helplessly as the bull kept teasing, licking, working his feet like they were his new favorite toys. And each lick was like a lightning bolt of absurd pleasure running up and down his spine, getting stronger and stronger and making him throb harder and harder in his briefs.

"Heh, fuck, I was wondering if you'd ever get that sort of...mmmph, fuck, your feet are hot, dude. So's the rest of you, but fuck, your feet are good."

John managed to nod as the licking continued, slowly bringing himself around to think of how to speed this up. He knew that he wasn't going to get that bong back until Victor had cum at least once, and that was currently some way off. He could feel the hardness, yes, but that cock wasn't exactly oozing on his feet just yet.

He slowly managed to get his toes hooked around the bull's briefs before pulling down. That thick thing popped out almost immediately, throbbing and pointing toward him. Big, hard, and fat, the massive shaft was something out of a porno, and probably would have looked edited in that from just how huge it was. Yeah, Victor was a bull, but that was the sort of cock usually reserved for a breeding stud.

It stopped the big guy in mid-lick, too, something that John almost wished hadn't happened. He curled his toes in annoyance and need, only for the bull to grab him by the ankles.

"Heh, you're right. Time to move on to the main event, man."

"Just...get it over with."

"Heh, says the bitch that was getting off to me licking his feet."

"You -"

"Just try and pretend you ain't. That dick of yours is leaking something fierce."

"...Shut up."

"Heh, whatever you say."

He groaned as his feet were pressed to either side of that massive dick. There wasn't much in the way of sweat or spit on them, not enough to really lube that cock, but there was just enough to allow a few little thrusts. And that was enough for Victor. The bull was already moaning, gasping and grunting as he hunched his hips forward and back, grinding against the Doberman's soles and getting them wetter and wetter with pre-cum.

It didn't take long before he was pushed further back in the chair, too, almost pinned against the back of it as the bull held him down. Thrust, thrust, thrust, that shaft pushing further and further past his feet until it was almost bumping him in the face. Each thrust was...oddly sensual, though not as sexy as it had been when his feet were getting licked, but -

Holy fuck, he's big...

Even with the first high fading, it still took him that long to realize just how huge the bull actually was. Thrust, thrust, thrust went that shaft, getting closer and closer, his feet sliding down to the bottom of it. He could feel the wrinkled flesh there, not sure if he was touching a sheath or something just wrinkled, but he could feel those balls. They slapped against his heels as if they were someone's cheeks, humping against him, grinding between his soles again and again.

"Fuuuuuck, getting close, dude."

"Then...then just cum..."

"Need a little...little help on that one, man."

"You gotta be..."

No, the bull wasn't fucking with him. Not with how hard that cock was. He groaned under his breath, keeping up the pressure of his feet on that shaft and ignoring the way that it made him feel good - better than good - and opened his mouth.

One thrust missed.

The second didn't.

"Ulk!"

He gagged as it went past his lips, sliding over his tongue and slathering the inside of his mouth with pre-cum that was already starting to make him feel a different sort of heat. It was just as thick as the stuff that he'd swallowed only a little bit ago, and it was so...so warm. And there was so much of it.

"Oh, hell yeah...just like that..."

There wasn't much else that the Doberman could do as he was essentially face-fucked by his drug dealer. Thrust, thrust, thrust; each one slid between his feet and painted his tongue with more of the slimy pre-cum. Thick and stringy, he could feel it between his teeth and against the roof of his mouth. The gluk-gluk sounds of it pushing into his throat roared in his ears, and he could only imagine what anyone passing by would think.

Didn't matter. Had to get the bull off to get more of the product.

Thrust, thrust, thrust. Starting to get used to the feeling of it passing between his lips now, starting to get used to the feeling of the head brushing against the roof of his mouth. Thrust, thrust, thrust, getting faster, dripping more. Had to be getting close.

Ignoring the way that he was oozing into his own briefs, he just focused on the cock in front of him, doing his best to drag his feet along it and indulge the bull that much more. Victor was gasping for breath, huffing for air, but not enough. A little more, a little more. Just a little more sucking, a little more stroking.

He pressed his feet together tight, relying on all the pre-cum between his soles to be enough. It was just barely that, allowing the bull to hump with more resistance, getting more stroking sensation, more intense feeling, and then -

"MMMPH!"

Victor came.

John wasn't ready for the sheer volume of it. He managed to swallow the first mouthful and barely got his lips around the second, but the rest was just too much. The Doberman fell back, ears flattened against the back of his head as the rest of the load splattered against his face. It smeared up and down his cheeks, along the front of his neck, and down his chest from the sheer volume that the bull had to offer.

And then, it was done.

Victor panted above him, still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, but he held out the bong. Johns wiped it out of his hands, shaking his head as he took it back and leaned back. The feeling of cum on his face and the slimy sensation underfoot was rapidly forgotten as soon as he took a new hit.

"Ahhhhh..."

"You want more of that? Come by and do that any time."

"Mmmph..."

He might just do that, if it was that easy. He didn't want it to be that easy, and he was pretty sure that he'd regret going that far as soon as he was sober again, but for the moment, he had all that he needed. Another hit...

And then another...

And another...

And he was just wasted.

The End

Summary: A loser twink heads down to a dealer to get some new drugs.

Tags: M/M, Foot Fetish, Bull, Doberman, Weed, Drug, High, Briefs, Boner, Footjob, Cum, Lactation, Pre-Cum, Facial, Blowjob, Grumbling, Orgasm,