This story was originally posted at Male Transformation Blog as part of the ‘Caption This’ series, in which Sean provides a photo for inspiration and allows his readers to write the story. It’s the first story I had the stones to publish online. Thank you, Sean, for inviting all of us to join in and giving us a place to do it. -El Fantasmo
So, the douchebag likes cigars now. First it was his Dad’s booze, now it was his cigars.
It had been a real trial haunting this particular house and watching Bart turn into such a jerk as he got older. After his mother passed away (and went straight on to the afterlife) his Dad just let him do whatever he wanted. Bought him anything he wanted.
It was both sad and infuriating. He had started treating his father with such disrespect that it emotionally charged the atmosphere in the house, and that riles up entities like me. Not only did his behavior piss me off, but it also turned my ghostly environment toxic.
I’d had enough. I was going to do something about it, and Bart had made his fatal mistake. You see, I liked cigars, too. I was hooked when I died, and Bart was hooked now.
When Bart came home today, as usual he went and got into his Dad’s best scotch and picked a cigar out of the humidor. He put the cigar down to get the clipper, and while he wasn’t looking I engulfed the cigar with my spiritual essence, and became one with it.
As douchebag went outside to have his smoke and his drink, he was feeling the call of his nicotine addiction and lit his cigar as quickly as possible.
The first few puffs were always rapid fire to get it going, and soon he was surrounded by a cloud of smoke. He didn’t even notice that it wasn’t dissipating the way it should have, that it was moving against the breeze and staying near him.
As he drew on the cigar and let the smoke out through his nose, I invaded his flesh along with the nicotine.
“Damn, this is a powerful cigar,” he said to himself as he mistook me for a nicotine rush.
Over the past few months he had given himself to tobacco, knowing it would hurt him, knowing it would grow to control him. He gave himself willingly, all to look cool.
No matter why he’d done it, it was done. And it was my gateway, because I would also grow to control him, and I wasn’t going to be good for him, either - just not in the same way. Even though he noticed that something was different, he didn’t put out the cigar, basically giving me the same permission he had given tobacco.
As he continued to smoke, he didn’t notice that each time he drew on the cigar and the cherry glowed, a glow behind his eyes accompanied it. With each drag, the glow became brighter, and took longer to fade.
He became extremely light headed as more and more of me poured into him through the smoke. But he was also feeling a much deeper nicotine craving than normal, because as I began to be a stronger presence within him, my long dormant addiction was being revived. As I seeped into his flesh, I felt what he felt, and the smoke called to my memories and desires.
The thickening cloud of smoke around him began to swirl and contract as I began my final push to enter his body, and subjugate it to my will.
Bart was too involved with his increasing desire to smoke to notice anything wrong, because as the desire increased, the satisfaction of pulling smoke into himself increased along with it.
“Fuck, ME, this is amazing!” he said, holding the cigar a little away from himself and looking at it in wonder. The fire in his eyes was constant now, never completely fading.
As he put the cigar back in his mouth and took an exceptionally long drag, his eyes blazed with the cherry on the cigar, and the cloud of me/smoke attacked, engulfed him, passing into him through every exposed surface.
Bart couldn’t move - he felt completely overwhelmed by my entry.
Suddenly, I was within him. I pushed hard to make myself an integral part of him, to sink into his bones, to ride his addiction into the very depths of his soul.
Then I WAS him. “The self-absorbed little shit absorbed me,” I chuckled through a cloud of smoke with his voice. There was a moment when I could feel Bart become aware of what happened, but he, and that feeling, faded very quickly, along with the fire in his eyes.
The whole experience hadn’t taken much time at all, and I now had most of a cigar to enjoy along with a good scotch. Which was a problem, because I also had a new body to enjoy, and the feeling of being alive again, and YOUNG again, was making his - heh - MY member fight the captivity of my jeans.
“Well, there are worse problems to have than to need to wait on one pleasure for another,” I said out loud, readjusted my cock, and stuck the cigar back in my mouth.
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