The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Big John’s Stogies.

Sam felt good as he pulled up at the old factory in his newly rebuilt 68 Charger R/T complete with a 426 Hemi under the hood. He’d got his car finished just the day before, he’d left his girl with a smile on her face this morning, and he was starting a new job. Maybe not a great job but hey, hard work never hurt anyone and at least it meant cash in his pocket for the summer. Everything was good in Sams world.

He climbed out of the car and stretched to his full height of 5′8″ as he flexed his well toned his 195 pound frame to loosen up a bit, Sam knew it was manual work, he’d also been told it was pretty tough and he wanted to avoid muscle stiffness.

His blue eyes roamed over the ancient looking buildings, the tall chimneys blew smoke into the air like a couple of overgrown stogies. Sam shook his head, not many places still used old coal burning furnaces these days, but then, not many places were like this one. It was one of those places that was trying to be “Living History” but wasn’t quite old enough to succeed.

Taking a deep breath he ran a hand over his blonde, commando cut hair and strolled toward the dirty stone building lazing beneath the chimneys. As he got closer he started hearing a slow, steady rhythmic scraping of metal across stone, he reached the small doorway and tried to see through the dimness inside. All he saw was a hallway that turned a corner and had a low, maybe seven foot high ceiling, the further in he looked the blacker the walls seemed to be.

“Hello?” He wrinkled his nose at the stale smell of smoke and heat that seemed to reach out to him.

“Yeah?” A deep bass voice called back from the depths of the long building, the slow scrape of metal over stone continued.

“Um..My name’s Sam, Sam Woods..” His brow furrowed as he waited, expecting to see the owner of the other voice coming toward him.

“Good fer you.”

“Um..I’m looking for John..”

“I’m ‘im.”

Sam noticed that the steady rhythm never altered, not even a fraction, the guy obviously didn’t intend to come out so he took a step inside and paused.. “Holy crap! How hot is it in there?” he thought as the thick, aromatic atmosphere of smoke and heat hit him, he swallowed hard and blinked, taking a moment to adapt.

“Well, come on in boy, sooner yer in the better it’ll be” The bass voice called, more encouraging than commanding.

Sam took a few deep breaths and determined to at least get along the hall and round the corner. Taking it steady he walked along the hall, the walls growing blacker the further in he went. His clothes were damp and clinging before he even made it halfway to the corner. Following the continuous sound of what he guessed was a shovel being used he stepped around the corner into a very dimly lit room with walls coated in black dust. The focal point of the place was the huge, horror story type furnace consuming the coal that John shovelled into its gaping mouth.

Sam froze as the bare-chested John stood upright and turned toward him, the first thought to race through his mind as he saw the giant covered in the grime of coal yet still glistening with sweat in the flames of the furnace were the words of a Jimmy Dean song.

“Every morning at the mine, you could see him arrive.

He stood 6 foot 6, weighed 245.

Kind of broad at the shoulders, narrow at the hip.

And everybody knew you didn’t give no lip to Big John.”

Apart from this not being a mine, and John being maybe an inch taller, the description pretty much was this guy. The mans biceps were bigger than Sams head, his pecs and abs were so sharply defined that “washboard” just seemed too soft a description. The oversized shovel in his huge hands looked as if it had been built, not made, built, especially to fit him. John was the kind of man you took one look at and almost believed the story of Atlas holding the world on his shoulders.

The second thought came as he saw a big puff of smoke blown toward him. “How the fuck can he smoke in this hell?” And then Sam coughed as the smoke hit him.

“Good fer you boy, yuh made it” John grinned around the big cigar held between his teeth, he puffed again as he strode toward Sam. “Aint many make it this far.” the thick smoke swirling in a haze around him as he put a huge, spade of a hand on Sams shoulder. “So yer the new shoveller huh?” His big fingers held the boy surprisingly lightly yet firmly as he guided him forward.

Sam swallowed and nodded, “Yes sir” he answered, trying to wet his mouth and get his mind off the discomfort of damp material as he took a couple of steps further into hades. He tried to ignore the thick, sweetly aromatic smoke and the heavy, cloying heat. His stomach did a couple of flips and he wished the acrobat inside would go wait in the car. He didn’t think to wonder, or ask, why John didn’t blow the smoke upwards.

John nodded and smiled as more smoke permeated the air. “It goes easier if yuh jus’ relax an’ breath deep then let it out slow boy” John told him as he led him further in and over to a large rectangular stone set against the wall. “Here yuh go boy, sit down there a while an’ let yerself settle.” He pulled a bottle of water from a box beside the stone and handed it to Sam, “Drink it slow.”

“Thanks” Sam whispered as he opened the bottle, he inhaled just as the thick cloud of aromatic smoke hit his face, it didn’t help the feeling of light-headed dizziness that was starting to make him sway slightly. Without thinking he tried taking a few deep breaths to settle the churning in his stomach, he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, even just a little. He took a few sips of the warm water, it wasn’t great but at least it helped.

Hoping it would help cool him down he pulled his tight, sweat dampened t-shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from his face, he smelt the smoke that had already filtered into his clothing as rivulets of already dirty perspiration ran down his bare chest.

John took the stogie stub from his mouth and flicked it into the searching flames of the furnace, “tell me some about yerself while I feed the beast.” He grinned as he put another big cigar between his teeth, pulled out a bronzed zippo, flicked it open and teased the stogie alight.

Sam watched as the thick blue-grey smoke wreathed itself around John with each puff, he wet his lips as his stomach started to settle, though he didn’t seem able to make himself think straight, his thoughts seemed more like the smoke surrounding him than the stone he sat on. He watched as John turned toward the mass of coal and, taking the bulldozer bucket of a shovel in both hands, planted his feet apart to slightly angle himself so he only half faced “the beast”.

With a deep pull on his cigar John leant forward and swung the shovel back then forward, lifting and swinging back then throwing it forward into the glowing maw of the hungry beast of a furnace. As he watched the steady, continuous flow of motion Sam couldn’t help admiring the precision and practised ease, not a drop of energy was wasted, not a single muscle was used needlessly, every slight motion had a purpose. He seemed to slip into a daydream while he watched, something deep inside telling him that he was seeing living poetry. Each glistening muscle flexed and rippled, even the puffs of smoke as John drew on his cigar and the flares of fire as coal hit flames seemed a natural part of the tableau. A slightly altered version of Jimmy Dean’s song tiptoed through his foggy mind.

“Every mornin’ at the furnace you could see him arrive

He stood six foot 7 and weighed 2-45

Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip

And everybody knew you didn’t give no lip to Big John.”

Lost in his dream, Sam never noticed the slight rise in his heartbeat, or the bulge growing in his jeans, nor did he notice when John stopped working and stepped in front of him until the big mans bass voice pushed its way through the drifting haze of his thoughts.

“That’s the way boy, breathe deep” The voice said, “deep an’ slow.”

As if on instinct he did as the voice said and took a deep breath, the thick tendrils of smoke slithered into his throat and nose, the smooth taste and sweet, aromatic aroma sent what thoughts had been forming into a whirl. He blinked and his blue eyes focused slightly, he looked straight into the smiling grey eyes of big John and couldn’t look away, even had he wanted to. His mind just barely registered the big hand that cupped and massaged the growing bulge in his pants.

“Yeah, breath deep boy, John knows what yuh want, don’ he boy?”

“Nuh..no..wha..I..” He tried to pull his thoughts back, to focus on something, anything, other than the dizzying heat, or the thick, sweet smell of cigars, or the images of powerful, rippling muscle under taut grime coated skin that glistened with hard earned sweat. Unthinking he breathed deep and felt the smooth smoke fill his mouth and slide like ethereal honey down his dry throat.

Pulling on his stogie John grinned, his big fingers squeezed and massaged the boy through his denim jeans, he blew the smoke out slowly, surrounding both himself and Sam in a thick cloud. “Sure I know boy, yuh want to suck on my stogie don’t yuh boy, to get hard when yuh do, aint that right boy?”

His thought writhed and twisted like smoke in the wind as he tried to argue, to fight against his own betrayal, he felt his pants loosen around his waist. “Wha..n..nuh..I..ca..” He moaned as big fingers pushed into his shorts and gripped his entire manhood easily “Nnu..do..” Sweat soaked his face and body streaking the coal dust that had blackened his slightly tanned skin, he felt the slight seepage from the tip of his bared erection. “I..nuh..ca..I..” he whispered dryly.

“Sure, yuh need it don’t yuh boy, the taste of my cigar, yuh need it to get hard.” John grinned, blew smoke and kneaded Sams balls. “Only the smell of my smoke an’ taste of my stogie makes yuh hard don’t it boy, an’ yuh need to get hard don’t yuh boy?” He continued in his deep bass voice “Yuh need to get hard an’ yuh need to please me so yuh can, don’t yuh boy?”

Sam didn’t know how much time had passed before he suddenly realised, John was right, he needed to taste John’s cigars, to feel the smoke sliding down his throat, to smell the sweet aroma of the thick smoke, he needed it like he needed to get hard. Suddenly certain, his mind cleared, his eyes focused and he nodded “Yes sir, I need it, I need it so bad.” As soon as he said it he felt his cock stiffen more and he came in John’s hand.

“Good boy” John grinned “but yuh gotta prove yuh can handle my stogies boy” He said as he lifted himself to his full height and pulled the front of his jeans open.

Sam glanced down and licked his lips, he smiled and shuffled forward on the stone, he was at just the right height and he opened his mouth to eagerly accept John’s biggest and thickest stogie.

Hours later as John lit another of his big stogies and grinned, he watched the very eager Sam shovel another load of coal into the gaping maw of the roaring furnace, the sweat and coal grimed boy was naked but for his work-boots, his manhood stood stiff and proud with a little seepage dripping from its end.

The last quarter of John’s previous cigar glowed as Sam took a big pull, he felt his cock twitch and pleasantly sore ass tighten a little and grinned.

END.