The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Cigar Monitor

By E.S. Morwood

Chapter Two

We passed into a long hall. I could see the hairy back and shoulders of the noisy guy in front of me swaying too and fro in the dim light. Drifting smoke from his exhalations wafted over his head and into my face. I could also see that he had another tattoo on his right butt cheek that I hadn’t noticed before. It was a tattoo of a huge set of balls and a vein-throbbing erect penis with an arrow pointing to his rectum and the butt-plug still in it. The words, “Insert cock here.” was tattoo’d just below it.

I recalled that the hooded man had also placed a tattoo on my ass and I prayed mine didn’t look like that.

We passed along the length of the long corridor until we entered a bright room that had black walls. The conveyor jerked to a stop with a clang and we were left swaying slightly. We were now side by side in a long line like floating human teddy bears. Another clanking sound was heard accompanied by a grinding motor noise and we were slowly turned like pigs on a spit until we all faced the same way. Directly opposite each person was a neatly stacked pile of clothes on the floor. A dressing mirror stood behind them and a small stool and a stand up ashtray stood next to each mirror.

We heard a ratcheting noise as if dozens of chains were moving over reduction gears and we were lowered to the floor until we were standing on our own.

The hooded man re-appeared and stopped in front of me. Evidently I was to be first this time. I turned my head to follow him. He pulled the noose over my head. Then he pulled out my butt-plug and removed the cigar from my clenched teeth. Then he placed a huge unlighted cigar in my right hand and waited.

I stared down at it, confused as to what to do. Then slowly and almost painfully I moved it up to my mouth and placed it between my lips. Then the hooded man handed me a Zippo lighter.

I took it gingerly and paused, fighting the impulse to spark it into life. Suddenly I brought it up to my cigar, popped the lid and thumbed the wheel. A bright blue flame ignited and I started puffing away at my cigar until it was burning brightly. I couldn’t stop I extinguished the flame and sucked hard at the cigar until my lungs were filled with smoke and I exhaled. It tasted wonderful and even though my lungs still ached, I new I was now a hard core cigar smoker.

The hooded man then went on to the noisy guy and performed the same ritual; then the next man and then the next. After each man had lighted a cigar on his own he moved eerily on to the next without a word of approval, or a nod, a sadistic laugh.

Finally the hooded man reached tenth man down from me and gave him his cigar. He put it slowly into his lips and brought the lighter up towards his face, and then stopped. He seemed to be fighting the urge to light it on his own. He seemed to understand that if he did this he would have lost all hope.

The hooded man just stood there in front of him, waiting.

The guy started to tremble and sway and sweat began to pour from his hairy body. His right hand with the lighter in it started shaking violently. He was fighting it and seemed he was winning.

The hooded man then moved slowly but determinedly behind him and reached over to a shelf and pulled out a long circle of paper. He placed it over the guy’s head and forced it down his body until it was riding across his chest. I looked closely at it and it was a large colourful cigar band.

The guy could no longer hold his arms up and they fell to his sides. The lighter clattered to the floor his cigar still in his grimacing teeth. Then he began to shake and contort as if he was in a great deal of pain. His hairy skin began to turn a dark brown and his body began to change shape. Layers and layers of tobacco leaves suddenly started building up around his body seemingly crushing and distorting him into a cylindrical shape. Where gaps in his body didn’t allow a smooth surface, more leaves began to bunch up and fill up the spaces. The leaves started wrapping themselves around his head and neck until all that was left untouched was a deeply inset face in the rounded end of a huge cigar.

I was horrified! I was watching this man being painfully turned into a cigar!

The hooded man then moved slowly and stood in front of the seven-foot cigar-man. The guy then pleaded with him saying, “I’ll smoke the cigar! I’ll smoke the cigar! I’m a cigar smoker! Please stop!”

As if he didn’t hear him the hooded man took huge wads of tobacco leaves and forced them into the guy’s mouth until his mouth was wide and seemed distended.

He kept trying to speak but his words were muffled. His eyes were panicked and wide.

Then the hooded man started packing tobacco up his nostrils and the guy seemed to have trouble breathing. Finally wads of tobacco covered the rest of his face saving his eyes for last. A smooth layer of leaves then wrapped around his head until it was smooth. But that wasn’t the end of it. We could hear a cracking sound coming from deep inside his cocooned body. It was the sound of his insides being turned into tobacco leaves. After the cracking sound had stopped the hooded man picked up the cigar man as if it/he weighed nothing placed it in a glass coffin and closed the lid.

Then gracefully the hooded man approached the next guy, removed his cigar and his butt-plug and started the ritual anew. After seeing what happened to number-ten man, he had no desire to resist and placed the cigar in his mouth and lighted it.

The kid was the last and he passed the test.

He seemed to accept his fate of being a beefy cigar smoker, but then he did seem to be running on automatic. The glazed look on his face told it all.

The hooded man then moved aside and as one, we all moved towards the clothes that were lying on the floor.

It seems the clothes were chosen specifically for us.

The noisy guy next to me who now looked like a biker put on what looked like previously owned, and none to clean, white briefs and a T Shirt with the arms roughly cut off. 501 jeans followed this, and a thick black belt with a big Harley Davidson buckle. Then to top it off he put on a black leather vest, chaps and black Dayton boots.

The guy who now looked like a cop was putting on a cop’s uniform. He looked like a fat sergeant.

Another guy was putting on a fireman’s uniform. Once suited up he looked like a fire chief. He had spider veins on his nose and cheeks that only a long time hard drinker gets.

The guy with the High and Tight haircut put on fatigues and looked like some low ranking properties clerk.

The woman, now a man, put on faded jeans, a faded T-shirt, brown steel-toed boots, a tool belt complete with tools and a well used CAT baseball cap. I guess she/he was now a house builder.

The kid, who I thought looked like a construction worker put on some ratty boxers, thick wool socks, a dirty white T shirt with a faded logo that said “BEER BEAR” and dirty Carhartt bib pants. This was followed by well-worn calf length work boots and toped off with a well-used hard hat.

As I reached for my new clothes I noticed that they stank from use. The smell of sweat and cigars seemed to permeate them. I was saddened to find that I was to be a labourer. I had a degree in advertising and this would definitely be a step down.

I reached my hand to my cigar in order to put it in the stand up ashtray. I was stunned to find that I didn’t really want to take it from my mouth. Still I took one big drag and placed it carefully on ashtray.

Then I picked up some dirty white briefs that had obviously been worn before. In fact I could see skid marks in the ass of the underwear and yellow pee stains in the front. They were also a little stiff in the front where the previous owner had obviously ejaculated. I tried not to retch as I hoisted them up my legs and slowly pulled them over my cock. I was horrified to find that I actually got a boner when my cock rubbed against the dried pee and cum. I was a fairly fastidious guy: at least one shower a day and clean underwear and socks, or at least I used to be. It was then that I realized that a lot more had been done to me then making me hairy and turning me into a smoker.

Then I put on a stained T-shirt with a smiling bear drinking beer on the front. The neck hole was stretched and frayed as if the constant rubbing up against a rough beard had abraded it. As I picked up the jeans I noticed that they were worn and frayed. Attached to them were wide blue suspenders and a wide belt with a belt buckle in the shape of a truck. These were truckers’ clothes and they were now my clothes. I pulled them over my legs and hoisted the suspenders over my shoulders. My beer-gut fit snuggly but comfortably against the waist. There was also a well-worn circular mark in the back pocket where a tin of chewing tobacco lay. Then I put on a baseball cap with a ‘Peterbilt’ logo on the front. On top of this I put on a western style jean-shirt with the arms cut off. I then reached for my cigar, took a deep drag and placed it in the corner of my mouth and turned to look at my reflection in the mirror.

I was no longer me. Or rather I was me but not the man I once was. I was me, but I was also someone else. I was confused, but I stood there silently and stared and I started to get another erection.

The hooded man moved to the end of the room, turned and walked through a darkened door into another room. As if on cue we all started to follow him. We passed the guy who was turned into a cigar. I looked at the glass coffin and almost salivated at the idea of smoking such a huge cigar. Then I recoiled thinking that this cigar used to be a man.

Once in the new room we were each stood in front of a backdrop and various photographs were taken of our faces. Now I knew where the photographs came from that led me to this evil place. They were the faces of previous men and perhaps women and kids) who had been forcibly turned into hairy beer-bellied cigar smokers.

Then we were led into a carpeted room with mirrors covering the walls and cameras were placed everywhere. The hooded man moved to the side of the room and waited.

All of a sudden I started to get hot and my clothes began to itch. I looked over at noisy guy and he was feeling the same thing. When our eyes met I suddenly got the idea that I wanted to kiss him, but not just kiss him, I wanted to fuck him up the ass and I wanted him to fuck me up the ass, hard! Just thinking about him slamming his hairy belly against my buttocks made me think about the butt-plug that was no longer in my rectum and how much I missed it.

I pulled the cigar from my mouth and was about to rape this hairy bugger when he pulled out his cigar and practically ran at me. Our mouths met and we kissed frantically and hard. I could taste his tobacco-flavoured saliva. Our tongues danced around each other’s mouth and his beard felt great scraping against my cheeks.

We started to fondle each other and I ran my hand down his pants and massaged his rock-hard cock, which was throbbing in anticipation.

Suddenly and violently, he spun me around, pulled my pants down and pushed me forward. I fell on the floor on my hands and knees. I was shocked by his attack but I had the presence of mind to put my cigar in my mouth. I heard him grunt like a pig and drop his pants. He then knelt behind me, pulled my stained underwear down to my thighs and spread my butt cheeks apart. He then hesitated a moment and started to ram his cock up my ass. My god it hurt and I moaned “Ughn! Ughn! Ughn!” each time his cock was thrust up my ass.

I heard him whimper and almost start to cry and he kept repeating, “I’m not a fucking fag! I’m not a fucking fag!” each time he banged me. But he didn’t stop and soon he ceased his mantra and started concentrating on his fucking. Soon he was saying, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Fucking! Great!” with each thrust.

I turned to look in the mirror and saw the reflection of two partially clothed overfed, hairy men. One was fucking the hair off the others furry ass. Both were chuffing on large cigars and moaning. I realized they were reflections of the two of us and I wanted to scream “NOOOOOOO!”

Noisy guy then came with a flourish and fell on his back. I then turned around and started to lick his still hard member. I tasted the steely saltiness of his still oozing semen and hints of shit. I put my whole mouth over his cock and danced my tongue over his cock. It tasted awful but I couldn’t stop myself. Some part of my brain said that I actually liked this. Noisy guy took a long drag of his cigar and removed it from his mouth and exhaled exhaustedly. He looked sad and he was completely spent, so I flipped him over on his back and forced his ass into the air. I wanted to fuck him like he fucked me. I wanted to put my cock into is tight, formerly straight, asshole. He was really going to be a fucking fag now.

But as I spread his butt cheeks apart and was preparing to fuck him, I suddenly realized that as soon as I did, I would be a fucking fag too.

I slowly moved my rock-hard cock between the very edges of his butt and hesitated. I wanted desperately to shove my cock in but I held it there. The head of my penis just rested in the crack as pre-cum leaked out. I wiped the pre-cum off my dick onto his hairy cheeks and I found that this made me even hornier. I was unsure of what to do. I was straight and I had never bum fucked anyone before. Then I saw the tattoo, “Insert Cock Here”.

That was all I needed and I took a big drag off my cigar, clenched it in the side of my mouth, and shoved my cock hard up his ass. As soon as I did he whimpered and moaned and I began to rhythmically pound his expansive ass.

With every stroke, I could feel the last vestiges of being a heterosexual man were leaving me. With every thrust more and more of the idea of being straight was drifting away. Soon all I could think about was how good it felt to have my cock up this bikers butt and to pound him senseless.

My thrusts began in increase in rate and when I finally came, I saw stars and I collapsed on the floor beside him. Then noisy guy came crawled over and began to lick my cock as I did him. He ran his tongue over my scrotum rings and I moaned and took a deep drag off my cigar.

I then turned my head to the side and I could the rest of the group engaged in much the same sexual acts.

The kid and the woman/man were paired off. This seemed to make some sort of twisted sense as neither had sex with a penis before. Certainly the woman hadn’t.

The cop was bum-fucking the redneck and the fire chief was fucking the Marine.

As we had lost one of members to cigar-heaven there was a threesome going on near one of the walls. One guy was getting bum-fucked while he was in turn being fucked. They didn’t seem to be able to get quite in sync and it looked comical.

Yes all of it seemed to follow a very twisted logic.

Eventually all of us had been fucked and blown and we were lying on the floor.

The hooded man then stepped into the centre of the room and we all slowly got up and put our clothes back on.

We were taken to another room where chairs were set up and we sat down. New skullcaps were placed on our heads and everything we needed to know about our new lives as: construction workers/labourers/cops/fireman etc. was piped into our brains. Our synapses were being re-written again. I found that I knew how to drive a truck and how to re-build engines. I also learned that I liked to chew tobacco, or ‘Snoose’ as I now called it, for times when I needed a nicotine fix and I couldn’t light up.

After the information was placed in our brains the hooded man wheeled computer monitors in front of us. On the screen was a bearded face. The same smiling bearded face that led us to house of horrors in the first place. Almost as one, we moved our face to the screen and touched our noses to the glass.