#smoketransformation

Eric stood in his clean white sneakers and blue shirt in a yard of full of weeds in the middle of nowhere.

“You sure this is it?” he asked his friend, Greg.

“Of course it is, there is no other place around,” Greg smartly replied. Greg was always dragging Eric to god knows where. Greg was a schemer and was always looking for ways to make “easy money” without working a real job.

Greg and Eric, both 20, had been friends for a long time but they were very different. Eric was a clean cut guy, never partied or did drugs. Greg, on the other hand, was always getting into trouble.

“How much did you say this guy was paying us?” Eric asked, annoyed.

“300 bucks, cash,” Greg grinned. Eric debated whether the amount of yard work was worth it. “Come on, let’s knock on the door,” Greg added.

The house was a little ran down, but it had potential. Greg knocked and a large, beefy man opened the door. He had a shaved head, full greying beard and was equal parts fat with muscle. He had a large cigar protruding from his mouth. When he had opened the door, a haze of smoke emerged with him.

“You must be Greg,” he said in a deep voice.

“Yup, that’s me,” Greg confirmed, “This here is my friend, Eric. He’s helping too.”

The man stared at Eric then reached out his hand and said, “Butch.”

“Umm,” Eric hesitantly reached for his hand and shook it, “Nice to meet you.”

Butch looked back at Greg, “I’m still only paying you $500. Extra help don’t mean more pay.”

Eric shot a piercing glance at his friend and Greg sheepishly agreed, “Yes, of course.”

“Well, you better get to it,” Butch suggested.

Greg and Eric starting pulling weeds in that early morning. There was an awkward silence between them.

It was about two hours in when Butch emerged from his house and offered the guys some water bottles. He still had a large cigar in his mouth.

“Thanks, Mr. - ummm…Butch,” Eric said as he took a water. Greg just grabbed the water without saying anything.

“I need to head to town for a couple of hours. You boys alright?” Butch asked as he got into his parked truck.

“Should be,” Eric responded.

“House is unlocked if you need to use the bathroom. All I ask is you don’t touch anything. Specifically my gars,” Butch grinned as he held up his lit cigar that was resting between his fingers.

“Of course, we won’t,” Eric assured.

“Good boy,” Butch said as he turned the engine on before driving off down the dirt road.

A few minutes passed and Eric finally spoke up, “You know Greg, I can’t believe you were going to short me.”

“What do you mean?” Eric defensively asked back.

“You know what I mean. He was going to pay you 500 bucks. You told me three,” Greg snapped.

“Chillax, I got it mixed up. I’ll split it evenly with ya still,” Greg assured him. Truth was, Greg was originally going to short him and was now backtracking.

“Whatever,” Eric said as he continued to work. He knew his friend and didn’t believe him.

Greg tossed his rake down on the ground. “I need to take a piss,” he shortly said as he stomped off.

Inside, the house was nicer than the outside. When he first answered the Facebook marketplace ad for yard work help, Butch mentioned that he recently bought the house was doing remodeling work. Greg had no idea though. This place was both masculine and fancy, and must have cost a bunch to get done.

After finding the bathroom, he looked around and saw the living room. It had wooden walls, oak furniture and leather seating. There was a deer head mounted above the fire place mantle. He saw a large cedar box resting there.

Being the rebel he was, he opened the box and saw several large cigars sitting inside. An idea popped in his head. He grabbed two cigars and a lighter that was sitting next to the humidor.

He had seen his uncle smoke cigars before and knew you had to cut them. He picked up a cigar cutter that was sitting on the mantle and cut each cigar poorly. He tossed the cut pieces into the fire place and quickly hurried outside.

“Look, I feel bad about almost cheating you, so I got you a present,” Greg called out as he walked back into the yard. He held up the two cigars.

“Are you fucking serious? You heard Butch,” Eric said, annoyed.

“The guy’s weird and off. He won’t notice two missing,” Greg said as he placed the cigar in his mouth. He flicked the lighter, brought it to the end and puffed on the cigar. Smoke poured from his mouth before inhaling, causing him to cough. Greg had dabbled with smoking cigarettes and other substances in the past, so he had an idea to what he was doing. He then held out the unlit cigar and lighter to Eric, “Don’t be a baby. Smoke it. Tastes expensive.”

“Like you would even know,” Eric said as he took the cigar from his friend. Eric never smoked anything before. He just stared at it.

“Come on. Don’t be a wuss like always. Smoke it and I’ll give you 250 instead 150,” Greg smirked.

“Fine,” Eric conceded, “I’ll smoke it.” Eric placed the cigar in his mouth. It tasted rich, which is not what he expected. He brought the flame to the cigar, over burning it and puffed. The smoke tasted of caramel and wood; it was actually pleasant.

“Now be a man and inhale it!” Greg demanded, not knowing you don’t normally inhale cigars.

Eric did and it caused him to cough aggressively. Greg just laughed. Eric thought he wasn’t going to do that again.

The two friends were more talkative from that point on as their cigars were an icebreaker for them. Eric was surprised at how much he was enjoying his cigar and the taste it had. He even thought about buying some on his own. Greg was also enjoying his cigar, but differently from Eric. He enjoyed the harsh smoke in his lungs and the quick buzz it gave.

A half hour went by as the two of them worked and smoked.

“Dude, I don’t feel so good,” Greg spoke up.

“You’re inhaling too much,” Eric informed him as he continued to pull weeds.

“No, it’s not that. It’s my stomach. It feels funny. And my face is itchy,” Greg said as he put his rake down.

Eric looked at him and was shocked at what he saw. Greg had a full beard. “Greg, your face! You have a beard!” Eric exclaimed as a thick cloud of smoke blew from his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Greg asked confused. his voice even sounded a little deeper. Greg touched his face and felt fuzzy hair. He was startled. He had never been able to grow facial hair.

Greg ran to the house and Eric followed. Once inside, Greg hurried to the bathroom while Eric stayed in the living room, still smoking his cigar. He didn’t want to put it down.

Greg saw his reflection of the bathroom mirror and sure enough, a beard was quickly growing. He looked different and barely recognized himself with the beard and cigar in his jaw. Much like Eric, he didn’t want to stop.

He then noticed his hair falling out, all over the sink under him. It fell until all that was left was short hairs. It looked like he had just given himself a buzzcut.

His stomach still felt off. He looked down and saw that it appeared bloated. He left the bathroom to find Eric still smoking his cigar, but he was also now sporting a short stubble beard.

The beard was not the only thing different. It looked as if Eric had been a dedicated gym goer and weightlifter.

“Dude, you’re ripped!” Greg said even in a deeper voice.

“I am?” Eric asked as he flexed his bicep and admired it. His voice was also getting lower. “I look good!

Greg even had to admit to himself that Eric was looking good.

The two of them stood in the living room, confused with these sudden changes. They continued smoking their cigars as it was the only constant they had right now. It seemed to calm their nerves.

The two friends didn’t know what to do. All they did was keep smoking their cigars.

“What’s happening to us?” Eric asked.

“I don’t know. Why are you getting jacked while I’m getting fat?” Greg asked back.

Eric looked at Greg. His belly was getting rounder and his face was filling out. Eric thought his friend looked good as a bigger guy.

“I don’t know, but my cigar is almost done and I want another,” Eric said as he snubbed his cigar out on an ashtray that sat on the coffee table. Greg did the same and the two friends grabbed another from the humidor.

They both lit them up as if they were regular cigar smokers now.

Both Greg and Eric’s beards were getting fuller and longer. Eric’s hair was also starting to fall out, but only on sides, leaving him with a short Mohawk.

Greg let out a belch. His belly had became massive, compared to what it once was. Eric couldn’t stop flexing his new muscles. His arms were huge.

Greg watched his friend as he rubbed his belly. He liked his belly; it made him feel manly. He also liked his friend’s new muscles.

“Dude, take off your shirt! Let’s see how ripped you are!” Greg enthusiastically suggested.

“Only if you do too!” Eric exclaimed.

“Deal!” Greg agreed.

The two men took off their tight shirts. Greg had a fuzzy belly and Eric had a hairy chest.

“Dude, you look hot…erm…I mean great!” Greg said to Eric.

“Thanks man, you look hot…umm…great as well!” Eric complimented back.

The two men looked at each other, admiring, as they puffed away fiercely on their cigars.

Eric had never been attracted to guys, but Greg was looking very sexy. He felt his dick twitching as he imagined riding him.

Greg never saw his friend in this light, but he wanted to touch Eric all over and please him.

As the men got harder, they smoked their cigars harder. Then suddenly and fiercely, the two men held their cigars in their hands, approached each other and started passionately making out. Eric grabbed Greg’s ass as he started grinding his crotch against his friends. Greg moaned in pleasure.

It all came to a stop when they heard Butch say, “Looks like we got a couple of rule breakers.”

The two men stepped away from each other, speechless and shocked. Butch was watching them as he hauled hard on his cigar.

“Butch, what is happening to us?” Eric asked in a deep voice.

“You smoked my cigars and became cigar cubs. I told you not to,” Butch said as he moved in closer.

“Cigar cub?” Eric asked, confused but still horny, “What’s that?”

“Take a look at yourselves and each other. That’s a cigar cub, son,” Butch answered as he drew on his cigar, “My cigar cubs.”

“Yours?” Eric asked.

“You smoked my special cigars. That means you’re my cubs and I’m your Cigar Bear, son,” Butch answered somberly.

“But you can change us back. Right Dad…I mean, Butch?” Greg asked as he rubbed his cock.

“Sure I can, since you both haven’t shot your load yet. That is what seals the transformation in forever. But look at you son. Been hard since you lit up. Do you really want to change back?” Butch replied with a grin, already knowing the answer.

Greg looked at Eric, who looked back. They both felt great. They deep down liked who they became, and what their friend became. They couldn’t imagine not feeling this type of pleasure ever again.

“No, Dad,” Greg said.

“No, Dad,” Eric also said.

“Just as I thought,” Butch said as he took off his shirt, “Now, why don’t you cubs come sit on the couch with your Daddy Bear before we make this permanent.”

“Yes, Dad,” the two cigar cubs chimed together, looking forward to sealing their smokey fates forever.

Elder Sam Anderson stood outside a metal door in the alley. “This is the place?” he asked to himself. The other Elders was sent to help old ladies by mowing their lawns. He was sent here to this address, apparently a place called “The Hole”.

He was 21 years old and was almost done with his missionary work. He grew up in the church and knew it was his duty to spread the word of God, but he was unsure about this.

He looked around, confused. He was unsure if he should go in. It was sketchy and no one was around. He had a bad feeling, but he knew Jesus wouldn’t judge. He pulled to door handle, but it didn’t budge. He was about to turn around, but the door swung open.

A tall, muscular man stood there. Sam didn’t know what this man was wearing or why. The man had a dark black leather jacket with a matching leather shirt underneath. He had a sense of formality as he had a leather tie, but the man also carried a sense of power as he had thick black leather boots.

The man had short buzzed hair, but had a thick dark mustache that had a lit cigar right under it. This man was both scary and alluring to Elder Anderson, a feeling he couldn’t quite understand.

“Can I help you?” the man asked in a deep voice.

“Umm…Hello. My name is Elder Anderson. I’m here to help and hopefully talk about our Lord and Savior.”

The man looked at Sam up and down. “Please, come in,” the mysterious man invited him as he held the door open.

Sam stepped in and found himself in a bar. He didn’t know why he was sent to the bar.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Sam mentioned.

“Didn’t give it, but you can call me Boss,” the man said.

“…Okay,” Sam hesitantly replied while trying to smile, “I brought a copy of The Book of Mormon that you can have. What would you like me to help you with first?”

“Just set your book down and take a seat right here. Gotta watch a training video, even if you’re just volunteering,” Boss said as he grabbed the book from Sam’s hands and set it on the bar top. He placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders and guided him to a chair that was in front of a tv.

Sam felt uncomfortable being touched. The smoke from the man’s cigar made his eyes water.

Boss pushed him down in the chair, “Watch the screen,” he ordered.

The screen was nothing but static. There was a loud hum coming from the set. Sam watched and began to ask, “Are you going to play the vide—”.

The hum became soothing and Sam could not hear anything else. A quick shot of fear filled his body, but it soon disappeared. There was nothing else around him. It was just him, the hum and the static.

Images of men in leather, men smoking cigars and men nude appeared on the snow like screen. Words like “obey” and “serve” also appeared. He saw men kissing. He saw men fucking. He saw it all and thought of nothing at all.

The words “cigar boy” appeared and then the screen went black. The blank eyes of Sam saw a man placing a cigar in the mouth of another man on the screen, who then started puffing away without a thought in the world. But this wasn’t video. It was a reflection.

The static and hum returned. Sam didn’t feel anything but pure pleasure throughout his body. He didn’t think of anything else except an urge to serve and obey. An urge to make other men feel pleasure, like the pleasure he was feeling right now.

The hum started getting louder, almost like an aggressive buzz. The buzz came with a sensation of coolnesss. The screen went black again and it revealed a man smoking a cigar while getting his hair buzzed. Again, without Sam realizing or caring, this was a reflection. The sight made Sam moan uncontrollably, causing smoke to shoot out of his mouth.

“Good boy,” Boss said in a caring yet controlled way. Sam kept moaning in response, almost like he was agreeing.

The static and hum came back on. The words “You are”appeared with “Boss’ boy”, “a cigar boy”, “a good boy” and “the hole” flashing across the screen in turn, rapidly and repeatedly. The hum got louder and the screen brighter. Sam was blankly watching and moaning. His whole mind was being wiped and rebooted, trapped between pain and pleasure.

His eyes were widening until the tv suddenly turned off. Sam went limp. His moaning stopped, his eyes shut and his cigar fell out of his mouth, burning a hole in his shirt before hitting the floor.

—

“Boy,” Boss said, “wake up.”

Boy opened his tired eyes, “Boss, what happened, Boss?”

“You took a break and fell asleep,” Boss said, “And apparently had a wet dream.” Boss pointed down at boy’s pants. They were indeed wet.

“Boss, sorry, Boss,” boy apologized.

“It’s alright boy,” Boss assured him. He felt safe around Boss. He always tried to make Boss proud, but also knew he would be disciplined if he stepped out of line. “Get changed. Your gear is in the bathroom.”

“Boss, yes, Boss,” boy obeyed as he headed to the bathroom. Boy knew he must always start and end each sentence with “Boss”.

Boy went into the dimly lit bathroom. It smelled of smoke, sweat and sex. He loved that smell and all the actions that caused the odor. His gear was lying on the counter. He didn’t remember why he had a dress shirt, tie and slacks on, but didn’t want to think any more of it. He knew his Boss wouldn’t want him to think any more of it.

He first slipped in tight leather pants. He then unbuttoned his shirt and saw the thick chain with a lock around his neck. He knew he could never take this off because Boss had the only key. He put on his leather vest and then his boots. He was ready for the night. He was ready for Boss.

After getting changed, he bundled up his old clothes and was about to throw them away when he saw something in the garbage bin. He reached in and saw it was a name tag. It said “Elder Anderson.”

“Who the fuck is Elder Anderson?” boy asked aloud before throwing it and his clothes in the trash.

Boy came out of the bathroom. “Looking good, boy,” Boss complimented with a lit cigar in his mouth. He had an unlit cigar in his hand and handed it to his boy.

“Boss, thank you, boss,” boy said before placing the cigar in his mouth. He leaned in toward Boss who then lit the cigar with a torch lighter. Boy knew he had to smoke whenever his Boss told him to, which was a good thing. Boy enjoyed cigars and was starting to need them as much as Boss.

“Ready for a busy night? Bar’s opening up in 10 minutes,” Boss asked as his boy took a deep drag off the cigar.

It was boy’s job to make drinks and make sure the customers were enjoying themselves. “Boss, yes, Boss,” boy said as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke. He loved his life serving his Boss and his customers. It was the only life he knew of.

Markus stood outside of the gym. He had been trying to bulk up for the past 6 months at home doing basic workouts, but had no success. He was always skinny and could never put on any weight. He thought maybe he needed to go to a real gym with real workout equipment.

He had heard about this gym called “Bear Builder”. He overheard one large and beefy guy talking about it while on the bus. The guy was massive, so Markus thought he should check it out.

The logo of the gym was a humanoid bear with large muscles. He thought it was odd that the bear was smoking a cigar since gyms usually promote a healthy lifestyle. The building looked nice though, even if it was a little intimidating.

Markus walked inside. As soon as he did, he could smell something strong and heavy. The aroma reminded him of old leather left in a smoky room, mixed with ashes and burnt leaves. It wasn’t sharp like a cigarette, but it was dense and inescapable, coating the air with a smell he couldn’t ignore.

It caused him to cough and clear his throat. He looked around and saw the front desk worker smoking a cigar. The smoke was drifting his way.

“What type of gym is this?” he muttered to himself. Already deciding this wasn’t going to work out, he turned around.

“Can I help you?” the worker asked.

Markus was never one to be openly rude. Instead of ignoring the man, he turned around and walked over.

“Umm…yeah. I was thinking of trying out a gym. Maybe sign up for one,” Markus said to the man. The man had large muscles cover in hair. His big arms were on full display as he wore a dark tank top. The man also a neat thick black beard and short black hair. He had a name tag with the name “Bruce” on it.

With the cigar in his mouth, he excitedly said, “You’ve come to the right place at the right time! We are accepting new members. We have monthly, yearly or lifetime memberships!”

Markus looked around, not sold on whether this was the gym for him. “Is it possible to do a test run? Like a free trial?”

“Yes, of course we offer a free workout session. But I’ll tell you though, most of the guys here signed up right away after the free session. I have a feeling you’ll be no different,” Bruce said with a smirk, “Feel free to use any of the equipment and locker room. Please visit the cigar lounge if you are needing an extra push. First cigar is on the house,” Bruce motioned to the entirety of the gym.

The gym was very nice but also very unusual. There were a lot of weight lifting equipment, but barely anything for cardio. There was also a section with leather seating and a giant humidor which was full of cigars.

“Umm…sure. Okay,” Markus said as he walked toward the weight area.

Markus set his bag down and grabbed the two 10 pounds dumbbells. He realized one thing: there weren’t any mirrors in the place. He hadn’t been to many gyms in the past, but knew that there were usually mirrors.

There was one other guy working out. He had a brown mutton chop beard and short hair. He was also muscular and bulky. He was doing some bicep curls with dumbbells. The man had a large cigar burning in his jaw. With every curl, he puffed out some smoke.

Markus sat on a bench next to him, trying not to cough with the smoke. He started doing curls, mimicking the guy.

Markus felt ridiculous. He was struggling with these small weights and was getting tired way too fast. The cigar smoking guy was lifting his 50 proud weight with ease.

The man looked over at Markus and said, “We all gotta start somewhere.”

Markus didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse. He just knew he was feeling overall embarrassed and out of place.

The man set his dumbbell on the rack and walked over toward Markus. He held out his right hand, “I’m Sean.”

Markus awkwardly dropped his ten weights and stood up. He shook Sean’s hand, “I’m Markus.”

“Nice to meet ya, Markus,” Sean said with his cigar tightly in his jaw, “How long have ya been coming here? Never seen ya before.”

“Just trying out this gym today,” Markus answered.

“Ah, makes sense,” Sean replied as he looked Markus up and down, “I’ve been coming here for a few months now. I love it.”

“Seems like a nice place, but not sure if I fit in. Might not be the gym for me,” Markus confessed.

“It is definitely a unique gym,” Sean said after he took a puff of his cigar, “Only place ya can smoke cigars and workout.”

“Yeah, I don’t smoke so it isn’t really a selling point for me,” Markus said as he curled his nose at Sean’s smoke.

“Ever had one? It might just be the little push ya need,” Sean suggested.

“No,” Markus answered.

“Let’s get ya one. Might make ya feel a little more at home,” Sean said as headed to the large humidor across the gym.

Not one to be rude, Markus followed.

Sean looked through the glass of the humidor, carefully browsing for the perfect cigar for the newbie. “Ah, this is the one,” he said as he opened the door.

He took a large cigar out and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a cigar cutter and carefully cut the cigar. He handed it to Markus, who took it.

Markus held the large cigar between his fingers awkwardly. He held it away like it was going to bite him.

“Put it in yer mouth,” Sean ordered with his own cigar between his teeth.

Markus clenched it with his front teeth. The cigar wrapper had earthy tones with a slight hint of bourbon.

Sean then pulled out from his pocket a torch lighter. He flicked it open and a flame appeared. “Now start puffing,” Sean ordered as he held the flame to the end of Markus’ cigar.

Markus puffed and puffed. He was unsure whether he was doing it right.

“That’s it,” Sean confirmed as if he was reading his mind.

The smoke was rich, but it didn’t taste bad. Like the wrapper, there were hints of bourbon and oak.

Sean shut the lighter and placed it back in his shorts. “Now keep it in yer mouth. Anytime you need an extra push, take a puff. It’ll help,” Sean said as he headed back to the weights.

Markus didn’t get a chance to say thanks. The large cigar was already awkward in his mouth and he didn’t want to risk dropping it by talking. He just followed Sean and went back to the dumbbells.

He grabbed the 10 pound weights off the ground and started curling them. When he was feeling tired, he started puffing. With every puff, the weights felt lighter. Pretty soon, they weren’t heavy enough.

He set the light dumbbells on the rack. He scratched his face since it was a little itchy and grabbed the 20 pound weights. Markus could barely lift them up at first, but he started puffing the cigar. Pretty soon, he was curling them with no issues as all.

Markus then decided to work on his chest. He went to the bench with the barbell. He place 25 pound plates on each side. He laid on the bench and grabbed the bar.

He slowly lowered the bar to his chest and then slowly raised it. He did this a few times as he puffed away on his cigar. It was getting lighter and lighter. It now barely felt like it weighed nothing. He then decided to try 90 pounds on each side. This was probably stupid, but he thought he could do it with the help of his cigar. He added the weight and started the bench press again.

It was very heavy at first and he felt he was about to drop it on him. He started puffing aggressively on his cigar. There was a cloud of smoke forming around him. He didn’t know if it was the smoke that was causing his face and body to be warmer, but he did know it was helping him lift.

Markus was now bench pressing the added weight with ease.

When Markus was finished with the bench presses, he moved over to the mat to do some squats. He lifted up the barbell that had 45 pounds of weights on each side.

He puffed on his cigar and the weight was too easy as he squatted. He instantly added 90 pounds to each side. Again, this was probably stupid but he believed in the power of the cigar.

He lifted the barbell on his shoulders. It felt like he was about to collapse, so he started to puff fast and hard. Another cloud of smoke formed around him. The bar was getting lighter and his clothes were getting tighter.

He slowly lowered to the ground with complete control. He then shot up quickly. As he did, he puffed away. He was feeling strong, and warm. His face felt particularly warmer and his shorts’ waistband dug into him.

He ignored it though as he continued his squats.

Markus set the barbell back in the rack with no problem. He felt he had a great workout. He headed to the locker room to wash off the sweat.

As he walked to the locker room, he looked down and noticed his belly was larger. He then noticed his arms were hairier too. He picked up his pace as he walked into the locker room.

He took the cigar out of his mouth and pulled off his shirt, revealing a hairy belly and chest.

He then saw himself in the mirror. It was the only one in the entire gym. He had grown in size, both in height and width. He had a tight belly. He had body hair he had never had before. His face was also hairy. He had a long and thick beard. He quickly grew worried.

He, without thinking through his panic, naturally place the cigar his mouth and started puffing. It helped him calm down.

As he puffed, he started to like how he looked. He was always a skinny guy who couldn’t bulk up. That wasn’t the case anymore. He rested his hand on his belly and flexed his bicep.

“Yup, I fit in here,” he spoke for the first time with the cigar in his jaw.

After spending a few minutes in the locker room to admire himself as he smoked his cigar, he put his tight shirt back on and headed out.

He ran into Sean as he left the locker room.

“Hey man, looks like ya had a good workout,” Sean said with a cigar in his mouth as he felt Markus’ muscles, “And looking good.”

“Sure did,” Markus confirmed with the cigar clenched in his teeth, “and thanks.”

“Hope to see you again soon,” Sean added with a wink.

“You sure will,” Markus said as he winked back.

Markus went up to Bruce who was still smoking a cigar behind the counter.

“Sign me up for a lifelong membership,” Markus said. He puffed away at his cigar as Bruce looked at him.

Bruce gave him a smile and pulled out a piece of paper. It was the membership contract. “I told you I had a feeling you’d join us,” he said with a smirk.

Part 1 of the Orc Smoke Trilogy

The Kingdom of Sola in the land of Timera was celebrating a death. It was a great victory for King Cecil Faemor. His Kingdom was being ravaged by the Orcs, lead by the Orc King Gar’dom. His eldest son, Prince Cedric, had just slain the Orc King’s only son.

The Great Hall of the castle was in a festive state. All the royals were cheering for Prince Cedric, calling him Orc Slayer. Both the King and the Prince were drinking heavily, pre-celebrating the end of this war.

Prince Cameron, the King’s youngest son, sat amongst the crowd. After hearing the King make a third slurred speech about his orc slaying son and how he will be a great king one day, Prince Cameron wondered if his father had even remembered if he even existed.

Prince Cameron rarely ever stepped into battle. His father never though he was suited for battle. He was known as the “Pretty Prince” while his brother was the “Warrior Prince”.

Prince Cameron was handsome though. He had blonde, soft hair and bright blue eyes. He got those features from his late mother. He didn’t look like his father and brother, who had brown hair and brown eyes.

Prince Cameron, who was 25 years old, had always lived in the shadow of his older brother. It was Sola tradition for the King to pick which of his sons would inherit the throne based on merit and abilities. However, Prince Cameron knew since he was a child that his older brother would be picked. Cedric was his father’s favorite, and everyone in the Kingdom knew that. Prince Cameron was the second son that was not needed.

Prince Cameron got up amongst the cheers for the Orc Slayer and left the Great Hall.

“For once, I wish my father saw me,” he said aloud as he walked to his room, with no one to hear, “To consider me.”

That’s when he thought of his plan. What was better than killing the Orc Prince? The Orc King.

Prince Cameron changed paths and headed toward the armory.

Orcs were savages filled with hate and rage. They were forced to live in the Southern Savanah ordered by the 5 Old Kings of Timera over 200 years ago. The Orcs were rebelling and making their way up north. The Kingdom of Sola was their first obstacle in their conquest.

Prince Cameron only knew about the orcs through tales from his brother. They were beastly with giant tusks. They had thick green skin that couldn’t be pierced with arrows.

No one knew how orcs repopulated as there was no such thing as female orcs. His brother speculated that all the male orcs lustfully slept with each other, shit in the ground and a baby orc would emerge from the dirt. When his brother told his theory, the King thought it was hilarious.

The Orcs also smoked these large cigars made with Orc Weed. It was said that since they were so full of rage, they had to smoke Orc Weed to stop them from killing each other.

It was because of these reasons that the orcs had no place in the Land of Timera. They were savages, monsters and ungodly.

The more Cameron thought about what he knew of Orcs, the more he realized his plan was stupid.

But he had to try. He had to bring his father the Orc King’s head if he ever wanted his approval and recognition. He might even have a chance to be king.

The Prince grabbed a sword and then headed to the stables to get his horse, Great Mane.

Over the cheers and ruckus of the celebration, the sound of the horse’s gallop left the kingdom.

———

After a few hours traveling as fast as his horse could go, he approached the Orc camp. It glowed red from various fires.

He got off Great Mane and tied him to a tree. He realized he should have changed his clothes - he was still in his white royal attire. He quickly got down on the ground and shuffled his way close for a better look.

The camp was quiet, surely mourning the loss of their prince. This would be the perfect time to kill the Orc King as he was grieving; he would not expect it.

He was designing his plan when he heard a twig snap behind him. He quickly looked behind him.

A giant figure was standing above him in the darkness. A glow of a cigar grew brighter as the figure took a hard pull, revealing an orc.

“Lost, aren’t ya?” the orc asked in a deep voice as pungent smoke left his mouth.

Cameron reached for his sword, but he was not quick enough.

The orc kicked him in the head with his large metal boots, causing him to black out.

———

Cameron slowly woke up. He found himself hunched over in a chair. He looked around in a daze. He was in a smoky tent. There was a fire and lanterns lighting up the place. He noticed his royal robe was off of him, along with his boots. He just was in his pants.

He then noticed the large orc who kicked him was standing next to him. His arms were crossed as he puffed away at his cigar, angrily. In the light, he could see this orc had a black mohawk with a long goatee beard. Black tattoos of various patterns the ran down his arms and across his chest. He looked powerful, and mean.

“You good?” the orc asked, “I tried to kick you not very hard.”

Cameron’s head was pounding, “Umm…I’m alright. Just a headache.”

“Sorry,” the orc grunted.

Cameron realized he wasn’t tied to the chair and quickly thought about getting up to run out, but knew he wouldn’t get far.

Cameron was scared. He didn’t know what would happen to him. He figured it was death; he just hoped it would be a quick one.

Loud thuds approached the tent until a giant orc entered. This one was older; he had long hair that was streaked with silver which met with his long beard. For his age, he still looked strong. He wore a fur cape and had a pointy crown on top of his head.

Cameron knew this was King Gar’dom.

Cameron felt a forceful smack on the back of his head. “Stand for the King,” the tattooed orc demanded.

Out of fear, Cameron rose.

“Thank you, Sir Gol’muk. Take a seat,” the Orc King said.

Cameron sat back down and the orc known as Gol’muk grabbed a stool. As the orc sat, the wooden stool creaked.

“I take it you are Prince Cedric? Came here to finish the job after killing my son?” the King asked as he stood, looking down at Cameron.

“No, I’m Prince Cameron,” he nervously answered.

“Oh? The other one? The one who won’t be king?” King Gar’dom pried with a smirk, “Then, why are you here?”

Cameron stayed quiet.

“Thought you could out do your brother by coming here to kill me?”

“Yes,” Cameron confessed.

King Gar’dom nodded. “You know, my son was supposed to be King after I died. Now I don’t have an heir to pass the crown to. Your brother took that from me,” the Orc King said. Cameron was surprised at how calm Gar’dom was and how intelligent he spoke.

“You know, I was second in line to be King. Like yourself, my older brother was supposed to be King. So I know how you feel,” Gar’dom added.

“What happened? To your brother,” Cameron asked.

“I was a young orc when I wondered into the woods, away from our land. I wanted to see the world past the Southern Savanah. Once my brother found out, he went to retrieve me. I stumbled across human knights and they attacked me on the spot and my brother came just in time to save me. Those humans killed him as I ran back home,” the King said.

“I’m…sorry for your loss,” Cameron quietly spoke. As the King told his tale, Cameron wasn’t hearing the words of a savage. He was hearing the words of loss and grief.

“Despite everything you have heard about us orcs, I can tell you that we aren’t the monsters you think we are,” the King added.

There was silence in the tent. Cameron finally said, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Well, I lost a son. It is only fair to take a son,” the King spoke.

Cameron heart fell into his stomach, “My father won’t care if I’m dead. Just please make it quick,” he begged.

“We aren’t going to kill you. Like I said, we aren’t monsters,” the King assured the scared human prince. King Gar’dom gave a quick nod to Gol’muk before leaving the tent.

Cameron looked at Gol’muk, unsure what was about to happen. The orc took a deep drag off his cigar and leaned in toward Cameron.

To Cameron’s surprise, Gol’muk placed his mouth on his own. Gol’muk’s tusk dug into Cameron’s skin. Smoke poured from Gol’muk’s mouth and into Cameron’s. Cameron breathed in the smoke and his head felt fuzzy.

Gol’muk stepped back as Cameron had his eyes shut. He didn’t know why, but he was holding his breath. His lungs felt heavy with the smoke. Then suddenly and violently, Cameron started coughing. He opened his eyes and fell out of his seat. He was on his knees. He started to crawl away from Gol’muk. He continued coughing, with only smoke leaving his mouth.

His skin was starting to feel off. Like something wasn’t right. He was warm. He looked at his hands and noticed they were turning a shade of green. His ears were burning with pain. He lifted his hand to touch one of them and felt that the top of it came to a point. He couldn’t see, but his once blonde hair was getting darker.

“What…did…you do…to…me?” Cameron asked between painful coughs. He didn’t know how, but only smoke left his mouth.

“Changin’ you,” Gol’muk grunted.

“Into…what?” Cameron stuttered, but already knew the answer.

“Into one of us,” the smoking orc confirmed.

Cameron’s whole body was on fire. His muscles spasmed, slowly growing in size. He collapsed on the ground. He felt two sharp points growing in his mouth. His bottom canine teeth were growing larger and longer. His jaw and teeth ached as his tusks were forming, pushing his other teeth around. His eyes shut due to the pain as he drifted into a dizzying unconsciousness.

Gol’muk watched as the once human prince was transforming. He never seen an Orc Smoke curse happen in person before, but he pitied Cameron. He could see it was a painful process as Cameron moaned for help.

Cameron was growing thicker with muscle and a beard was forming on his chin, cheeks and jaw. Orcs couldn’t crow mustaches. Black chest and arm hair was growing.

Gol’muk admitted to himself that Cameron was going to be a handsome orc once the transformation was done.

Gol’muk lifted the half-conscious Cameron off the ground. “Let’s get you more comfortable,” the orc grunted with his cigar in his jaw.

Gol’muk dragged the changing Cameron to the cot bed. He gently laid him down. The once human was still moaning, but less intense than before. His body was continuing to grow and become more orc-like.

“Yeah, you’re going to be okay,” Gol’muk said softly, “You’re going to be a strong and handsome orc. That’s for sure.”

Gol’muk sat next to the bed as he smoked his cigar. He figured the curse would be set by sunlight, and he wanted to be there for Cameron once he was awake; to help him into his new life as an orc.

Level 6

After a night of playing a game he couldn’t recall, Travis took off his headset and lit up a smoke. Once again, there were tissues spread across the table. His balls ached as they were completely empty, but he felt good. He felt like he had the best virtual night of his life.

Travis started his Sunday morning with a a few Marlboro Reds and a heavy breakfast. He cracked open a beer as well. He figured that it was the weekend and it was meant for relaxation.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Rob as well. He had never had a crush on a man before. His thoughts automatically went towards kissing him and fucking him.

He opened another beer, noticing it was his last one. He chugged it and headed out to get another case.

He lit up another smoke and walked down the sidewalk.

As he was walking, he passed by the construction office. He noticed Rob was entering. With it being a Sunday, Travis figured Rob was trying to get his bearings before taking over on Monday.

Travis thought of an excuse to follow. Without thinking of one, he still headed in.

“Hello?” Rob called out from Bob’s old office.

“Hey Rob! It’s Travis. Just swinging by for a quick minute,” Travis announced as he entered as he office. Rob was standing by the desk, fresh Red lit between his lips, as he was looking at the mess of papers scattered across it.

“Oh, hi Travis,” Rob said as the Red bounced up and down.

“Working on a Sunday?” Travis asked as he took out his pack of Reds. He coolly slid one out and placed it in his lips. He flicked his lighter and inhaled deeply before exhaling.

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Been stressed about taking over. My Uncle didn’t keep things super organized.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Travis laughed. He looked at Rob, who was looking very handsome as he smoked. He wanted to be around him, “Well, let me help.”

“You don’t have to,” Rob said as he exhaled some smoke.

“I know, but I want to,” Travis assured him.

The two men spent the day going through all the papers and making sense of the mess. They both chained smoked as they chatted and worked together.

The two of them laughed and joked as they got to know each other. They even teased each other a bit. Travis was feeling a flutter in his chest. He was crushing hard.

Travis was not trying to overthink, but Rob had touched and brushed Travis’ leg with his own. It was just an accident, Travis thought.

It was starting to get dark outside when the office finally became organized.

“Thanks a lot. I mean that,” Rob said as he lit up another Red.

“Of course. I’ll help you anytime,” Travis said.

“Well, we better lock up. Enjoy our last part of our weekend,” Rob said as he got up. Travis stood as well. Rob seemed anxious, maybe a bit nervous.

“Yeah, we better,” Travis agreed.

“This might be a weird question, and I don’t want you to think any differently of me….but…you know, never mind. It can wait,” Rob said as he walked away.

It was almost like instinct. It was something Travis had been wanting to do since last night. He grabbed Rob’s hand and pulled him in. He placed his lips on Rob’s and the two kissed. The kissing turned into intense making out.

Rob finally stepped back and placed his Red in his lips.

“Sorry…I…didn’t know what came over me,” Travis started apologizing.

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me. Your place or mine?” Rob said as he grinned.

—

Several months had passed. Rob and Travis had been seeing each other each night and without even putting a title on it, had become boyfriends.

Travis’ beard and belly had grown a bit. He still worked hard at the construction site but now as the site manager.

One evening, Travis came home to find Rob already there. Rob had unofficially moved in a few weeks ago. Rob was sitting on the couch in his underwear and shirtless. He was smoking and having a beer.

“Hey Babe,” Rob said, “You’re home late.”

“Yeah, Greg was having some difficulties with the cement mixer. Was helping him fix it.”

“Get comfortable and come sit with me. I already ordered a pizza. Should be here soon,” Rob suggested.

Travis got out of his work clothes and grabbed a beer. He sat next to Rob and out his arm around him.

The two men chatted about their day and they smoked. Both of them became even heavier smokers when they started dating.

“Anything you wanna do tonight?” Rob asked.

“Besides you?” Travis teased.

Travis looked at the man that he loved and thought back at who he use to be. He grabbed his phone and pulled up his old Twitch account. He had been inactive for a long time.

“You won’t believe this. I never showed you this,” Travis said as he showed Rob an old clip from one of his streams.

“Who’s that?” Rob asked, confused.

“Me,” Travis answered.

“No shit? That little nerd was you?” Rob teased, but in shock.

“Ha, yeah. I grew up,” Travis laughed.

“Yeah, and much hotter now too,” Rob said before leaning in to make out.

After fucking Rob, Travis laid next to him. The two of them were having a post-sex Red.

After their smokes, Rob kissed Travis goodnight. Travis wasn’t tired though. He was reflecting on how he became who he now was.

He got up and headed to his gaming station. He hadn’t turned on his computer or played the ManUp game in months. He didn’t feel a need to anymore.

He booted up the game and put on the headset. There was nothing showing, besides the following words:

“Congratulations! You did ManUp!

Was it the blue collar job? Or was it the extra weight you now carry? Or was it the heavy smoking? Or was it fucking a man?

Whatever made you ManUp, enjoy it. This is your life now and there is no resetting it.

GAME OVER.”

Travis stared at the last two words as he lit up a Red. He loved who he became. And even though the game was over, his new life was just beginning.

Avery sat at the bar, drinking his third hard seltzer of the evening and getting lost in the haze. He couldn’t believe he was just laid off from his office desk job of 10 years. He didn’t know what he would do now or how he was going to make rent for his apartment. He had enough savings for a few months, but living in Boston was expensive.

The bar was loud but he drowned it out. There were a group of construction workers having beers a few tables away and having a good time.

Avery didn’t drink often. When he did though, he became a lot more talkative. He was telling the bartender everything. How he was laid off and how he was worried. The bartender just listened and kept him supplied with White Claws.

“Hey, buddy,” a deep voice sounded behind him. It was met with a touch of a hand on his shoulder, which startled him. “Doing alright?”

Avery turned around and saw a large man with a long beard. He was both muscular and hefty. His skin was tan and sun baked. He wore a construction vest. He looked dirty from working outside all day. He smelled of sweat and smoke. He stopped to talk as his buddies left the bar.

“Oh…umm…I’ll be alright,” Avery answered.

The man sat next to him and asked, “Sure about that?”

This man seemed intimidating, but also warm in an almost protective way. Avery opened up and flatly said, “No. Not sure what I’m going to do. I just have been laid off.”

“Heard that,” the man said, “Name’s Ox.”

“Ox?” Avery asked back, never hearing that name before.

The man leaned in and whispered, “Short for Oxford, but nobody knows that. And I plan on keeping it that way.”

“Gotcha. I’m Avery,” he chuckled.

Ox held out his hand, “Nice to meet ya, Avery.”

Avery shook it with a “You too, Ox.”

“So, you’re out of a job?” Ox continued, “Ever done construction?”

“No, never,” Avery answered.

“Want to?”

Avery remembered watching the construction workers across the street from his office window. He sometimes was envious of being able to work outside all day and being free from all the formalities that came with a corporate job.

“Umm…not sure if I would be a right fit. Look at me,” Avery confessed.

Ox laughed, “We all start somewhere. Know it would be different than whatever office you came from, but you’d learn. Better than being unemployed. Can be temporary until you find something else.”

What Ox was saying was true. It would be better than being unemployed.

“Sure, okay,” Avery said.

“Perfect!”

The two of them chatted for a bit and Ox told him where to report to tomorrow morning before heading out.

Outside, Ox took out a pack of Marlboro Reds and slid one out with his lips before lighting it up. Before parting ways, Avery asked, “Why are you offering to help me?”

“Trust me bubs, I was once in your shoes. Exactly in your shoes. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me,” Ox answered.

Avery reached out his hand and Ox shook it. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

—

Avery reported to the job site. He woke up with second thoughts, but decided to not let Ox down and to give it a go. He wore his tennis shoes, jeans and a long sleeved dress shirt.

The minute Ox saw him, he said, “Buddy, I’m glad you showed up but you can’t wear tennis shoes on site.”

The color in Avery’s face drained, “It’s all I have. I don’t own boots.” Avery feared he was going to be fired before even starting.

“I got an extra pair you can borrow in my trailer. Follow me,” Ox said.

Ox unlocked the trailer and gestured Avery inside. His trailer was messy and smelled of stale smoke. Ox lit up a cigarette as he grabbed a pair of boots that were sitting on a chair.

“Put ‘em on,” he said as his lit cigarette bounced, “And if you got an undershirt, take off the fancy one.”

Avery did as he told as Ox looked through some filing cabinets. The boots fit just right and he had a tank top under his dress shirt, luckily.

“You have to fill these out then when can get started,” Ox said as he handed Avery some standard new employment paperwork.

When he was done, Ox looked over it, “Bullock? Your last name is Bullock?”

“Yes,” Avery confirmed, “Why?”

Ox chuckled as smoke exhaled from his nose, “I’m calling you Bull from now on. Ox and Bull.” Ox then gave Avery a vest and a hard hat, “Put that on and let’s get started, Bull.”

Ox showed Avery the job site. There were other men already hard at work who all knew what they were doing. These men looked rugged and strong. He noticed most of the men were smoking and wondered why most blue collar men smoke. Ox must have felt Avery’s lack of confidence because he said, “Don’t worry, Bull. You’ll be working with me for a while. I’ll teach ya.”

The two men started working. Avery was surprised that Ox was a good teacher; he explained everything, was patient and never made Avery feel stupid. After a couple of hours, Avery was already feeling exhausted so Ox suggested they take a “smoke break” - even though Ox was smoking the entire morning as they worked.

“You smoke?” Ox asked.

“No,” Avery answered.

Ox laughed and said, “Never smoked myself until I started construction work.”

“Oh,” Avery responded, knowing he would never pick up the habit himself.

After a long day at work, Ox invited Avery to go to a bar for some food and beer. “First day beer is on me, Bull,” he said.

“Umm…sure, I’ll go. Thanks, Ox,” Avery said.

—

After a month of working as a construction worker, Avery was getting use to working long, hard days. He found himself liking the work and spending his day with Ox and the other men. He was starting to feel like he belonged, but still felt a like a fish out of water. He and his coworkers were still just too different. Most of the guys, with the exception of Ox, called him “Pretty Boy”. Avery knew it was in a friendly teasing way, but it still bothered him.

At lunch, Avery and Bull sat down on a makeshift bench. Ox lit up a fresh cigarette and the smoke drifted into Avery’s face. By now, Avery was use to it as Ox seemed to smoke all the time.

Avery looked around and saw most of the men were smoking on their lunch break. The workers chatted and smoked, almost like their same habits almost united them. Like a shared connection.

“Umm…Ox? Mind if I try one of your cigarettes?”

“Sure, Bull,” Ox said as he tossed him his pack and lighter, “Tryin’ the fit in, eh?”

“You could say that,” Avery confirmed. He figured most of the guys seem to enjoy it, so he might as well give it a shot.

After watching Ox smoke for a month, Avery had an idea what to do. He slid a Marlboro Red out of the pack and placed it between his lips. He then flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the end. He took a drag and inhaled, deeper than he planned. To his surprise, though, he didn’t cough. He exhaled the smoke and saw Ox grin.

“Smokin’ like a pro,” Ox laughed, “You like it?”

“Yeah, actually it’s not bad,” Avery answered truthfully. It wasn’t what he expected. It was better.

The two men finished their smokes before heading back to work.

—

A few months passed and the construction work was now natural to Avery. He had bulked up with the hard labor and had grown out his beard. He felt like he was now one of the blue collar guys. Everyone stopped calling him “Pretty Boy”. He was now Bull.

Bull worked hard as he smoked throughout the day by Ox’s side. He enjoyed smoking; it felt manly. He kept with it to blend in and connect with Ox and the other workers, but it was now a necessity. He slipped into addiction and realized it when it was too late. He didn’t mind though.

He and Ox not only were coworkers who grabbed a beer after work, they had become good friends.

They were carrying some lumber when Ox spoke up, “So still looking for a new job?”

“No, stopped looking,” Bull said as he exhaled some smoke, “Enjoy the labor too much. Feels like home.”

“Atta man,” Ox grinned.

After work that day, Ox and Bull went to the nearby dive bar to get a few beers in and eat a grease filled dinner.

“Going to have to find a new place though,” Bull chimed in, “Rent is too high. Gotta downsize and downgrade, unfortunately.”

“Come live with me,” Ox suggested.

Bull laughed but Ox’s face said he was serious, “Oh shit, you for real?”

“Yeah man,” Ox confirmed, “Got my own house. It’ll be cheaper for ya. And less rules than that pretty boy apartment you got too.”

“I’ll think ‘bout it,” Bull said and it was left at that.

—

Another few months had passed and Bull was spending a lot of time with Ox. They became pretty close. Even on the weekends, they hung out. They chained smoked, drank many beers and ate unhealthy food. Bull gained a bit of a beer gut.

On a Sunday night, Bull was at Ox’s house. They ordered a couple of pizzas and watched a football game.

Bull loved spending time at Ox’s house. He was able to smoke inside and light up at anytime, unlike his apartment.

Later that evening when Bull got back home, he stood outside having a couple of smokes before heading in. It was time to cut ties to his old self.

He gave Ox a call, “Hey Ox, your offer about living with you still on the table?”

“Of course, Bull,” Ox said.

—

It had been over a year since Avery became Bull, the gruff construction worker. He loved his new life and couldn’t imagine going back to the corporate office.

Without even realizing it, Ox had quite the influence on Bull. Bull had buzzed his head and got a tattoo sleeve. He was planning on getting the other arm done soon.

He spent his days off hanging out with Ox, drinking beer and eating whatever he wanted. He had no worries in life. It was simple and freeing.

The two men would indulge in pleasures on their days off while watching tv in only tank tops and boxers.

Bull’s voice became deeper from all the smoking and extra weight; he had never felt manlier.

Most people had assumed Bull and Ox were brothers as they looked a lot alike.

One day on a construction site, the two men stood taking a break from their work.

“Remember when you said getting fired and working construction was the best thing that ever happened to ya?” Bull asked.

“I sure do,” Ox said.

“Well, I gotta say it was the best thing for me too,” Bull said.

Level 3

Travis set the VR headset down on the desk and ended his stream. The screen said “Welcome to Level 3”. He once again played all night and could not remember a single thing. His desk was littered with beer bottles and cigarette ash. The ashtray was full of butts.

His chest felt a bit tight from the apparent chain smoking, but immediately grabbed another Marlboro Red and placed it in his mouth. He also felt a little hungover and bloated from all the beers.

He got up as he lit his Red. He took a deep drag and held in the smoke in his lungs. He did not smoke like someone who just started yesterday. He looked like a man who smoked since his younger teenage years. Like it was not new to him.

“Fuck, that’s better,” he said to himself as he exhaled the smoke. His voice was a little raspy and deep from the late night chaining.

He walked over to his coffee maker and started to make a cup. He mainly drank energy drinks, but somehow knew that a morning smoke went really well with a cup of joe.

He felt like he had to get ready for work, but knew he didn’t actually “worked”. He just played video games for a living, but he was starting to realize that wasn’t a real job. He also knew that his skills were not being utilized.

Travis was remembering all knowledge of and experience with construction work. He didn’t fully know how he gained this skill of hard labor, but he knew he had it. He knew his hands were meant to work with tools and not click a mouse.

He grabbed the morning paper from his front step and sat down at the table with another freshly lit Marlboro Red and his cup of coffee. He skimmed over the job listings, looking for anything construction related.

As he looked over the listings, a construction company’s name caught his eyes: ‘ManUp Construction, LLC.’

He thought it was just a weird coincidence that the company’s name matched the game, but took it as a sign that was the place where he had to apply.

He finished his coffee and headed out the door. As soon as he got into his Tesla, he lit up another smoke. He was running low on cigarettes, so he stopped by the mini mart. He got a few more packs and three breakfast burritos. He rarely ate breakfast and if he did, it was usually something not so greasy. But he was starving this morning and the burritos looked good.

He parked his electric car at the office of ManUp Construction. He took a final drag off his Red, took a deep breath and headed in.

As soon as he walked into the office, strong cigar smoke hit his nose. He thought it smelled good and made him want to light up another Red.

A familiar large man was sitting behind the desk. He was bald, stout and had a massive mustache. He was smoking a large cigar.

“Can I help you?” the man gruffed.

“Answering your job posting,” Travis answered confidently.

“Take a seat,” the man ordered as he puffed on his cigar.

Travis did so, and as he did he pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds. He took one out and lit it up, casually and confidently without even asking. He belonged in this space.

“So, what experience do you have?” the man asked.

Travis listed off false experience automatically. He somehow had the knowledge of all this experience, like it was engrained in him.

“Impressive for a guy your age,” the man said, “Well, seems like a no brainer. When can you start?”

“Today,” Travis said as he placed his smoked butt in the ashtray on the desk.

“Good, head here,” the man said as he handed him a piece of paper and a yellow hard hat, “Tell Bob sent ya.”

“You got it,” Travis grabbed the stuff and got up.

“Good luck, Travis,” Bob said.

As Travis headed out the door, he wondered how the man knew his name. He never told him.

He arrived to the job site. A few of the workers stared as Travis got out of his Tesla. The lot was full of trucks and his eco friendly vehicle stood out. Travis immediately lit a Red.

“You the new guy?” a man asked as he walked over. This man was beefy and fully bearded. He too was smoking.

“Yeah, I’m Travis. Bob sent me,” Travis confidently said before taking a drag.

“He gave us a call saying you were coming. I’m Steve,” the man said as he held out his hand. Travis placed his Red in his lips and grabbed Steve’s hand tightly and shook it.

“What needs to be done?” Travis asked as he followed his coworker.

“Bob said you knew how to use the excavator?”

“Sure do.”

“You’re going digging out some foundation,” Steve informed him.

“Sounds good,” Travis said as he placed his hard hat on.

He climbed up on the machine and took a seat. He looked at all the buttons and levers. He knew exactly what each one did. He started the engine and got to work. He naturally operated the machine and enjoyed handling this massive piece of equipment. It was better than any video game he ever played.

Travis worked and smoked for a few good hours until Steve waved him down. From digging in the soil, he was dusty and dirty.

“Break time,” Steve yelled out.

Travis climbed down and joined the other men for a smoke break, even though he was smoking the entire time he was working.

“Ya know, I was hesitant when I saw ya get out of that Tesla. Thinkin’ who the hell did Bob send us,” Steve confessed, “But fuck man, never seen a guy operate that as smoothly as ya do.” Steve slapped Travis on the shoulder.

“Thanks, man,” Travis said.

The men chatted with him as if he belonged even though they all looked gruff, weathered and beefy.

Travis continued to work and smoke hard the rest of the day. He mainly worked on the excavator, but did other random jobs on the site.

By the end of the day, Travis was very dirty but he didn’t mind. He actually liked having the dirt on him; it showed the world that he was a hard working man.

Before heading home, Travis stopped by a local dive bar to have a few after work beers and dinner.

The bar was smoky, just how he liked it. He sat at a table and lit up a Red.

“What you like, honey?” the bartender asked.

He took a quick glance at the menu board. He was starving from all his hard work. “I’ll take the combo burger and a Budweiser, tap,” Travis answered.

He people watched as he ate, smoked and drunk. There were other blue collar men doing the same as him. There were mechanics, some truckers and other fellow construction workers. He was among his people.

After eating a second combo burger and drinking a few beers, he headed back home to his apartment.

He grabbed another beer from the fridge and sat back at his gaming desk. He didn’t feel like video games or streaming, but he wanted to finish Level 3 of ManUp.

He lit up a smoke and turned the stream on.

“Hey men, just working on finishing Level 3,” he told his viewers. His viewer count was low, only about 30. He was losing his online popularity.

Virtual Bob was sitting in his man cave. He was smoking a cigar, like usual.

“First day of hard labor done,” Bob said, “Good job! A hard working man deserves a reward.” Bob pulled out a cigar from thin air and handed it over, “Smoke up, man!”

Virtual Travis did as he was told. Real life Travis only had his Marlboro Reds, but smoked along anyways.

“A real man knows pleasure,” Virtual Bob said has he pulled out beers and handed them over, “So feed it. Enjoy. Indulge. You earned it, you hard working man.”

“Yes, Sir,” Travis said aloud.

The virtual smoke filled up the screen, swirling around and real life Travis fell back deep in a trance. He silently watched the swirls as he smoked away.

Part 2 of the Orc Smoke Trilogy

Bright light shined in the eyes of a sleeping Cameron. Cameron kept his eyes shut, feeling dizzy and hungover. It must have been a very festive celebration, but he couldn’t remember any of it. All he could remember was a crazy nightmare he had.

He slowly opened his tired eyes to find out that it wasn’t a nightmare.

He shot up instantly. He looked at his body. His skin was green and covered in black hair. His hands and feet were large. His chest and arms were massive. He touched his face and felt a thick beard. Giant tusks protruded from his lower jaw.

He got up from the cot and stood in the tent. His pants were ripped up from his thick calves and thighs.

He rubbed his heavy head; his brain was pounding.

Loud thuds entered the tent, followed by a “Oh, you’re up.” Gol’muk was standing in front of the newly formed orc. “You look good,” he sheepishly added. He was smoking a giant cigar, like usual.

“Is this permanent?” Cameron asked. His new gruff and deep voice startled him.

“I am not sure…this is the first time in a hundred years since a human changed,” Gol’muk answered.

Cameron didn’t know what to think. He was scared though. He then grew anxious and irritable. Gol’muk could tell Cameron was all of these things at once.

“Look, what done is done. Everything will be okay, trust me,” Gol’muk assured. For some reason, Cameron believed him. And trusted him.

“I’m just…I don’t know…something feels off. And it isn’t just being an orc. I can’t explain it,” Cameron muttered.

“Oh…I know,” Gol’muk said as he walked across the tent to a small wooden box sitting on a table. He pulled out a giant cigar. “You probably need one of these.”

“I don’t smoke,” Cameron said. He did admit to himself secretly that Gol’muk’s cigar did smell pleasant. Just last night, he could barely stand the smoke.

“Trust me, you do now,” Gol’muk said as he handed Cameron the cigar, “Orc Weed is very addictive. One puff and you’ll be smokin’ them to the grave. It’s actually good for you. The smoke affects us orcs differently. Slows everything down.”

Cameron place the cigar in his mouth and grabbed a lit torch that was shoved on the ground. He held the flame to the cigar and started puffing.

The smoke tasted better than anything he had ever tasted. He breathed in and the smoke filled his new orc lungs. It didn’t cause him to cough. Instead, it soothed everything. He felt less anxious. His headache went away. His muscles twitched and flexed; he felt even stronger.

“Better?” Gol’muk asked.

“Much better,” Cameron confirmed.

“Good. The King awaits for you. I’ll take you to him,” Gol’muk said as he headed out the tent.

Cameron followed. Outside, there were various orcs walked about. They were of all different shapes and sizes. Most of them had some tattoos or piercings. He even saw some younglings pretend playing with swords. He was always told orcs were savages, but he didn’t see any savages here.

“So, smoking Orc Weed will turn a human into an orc?” Cameron asked as he puffed away at his cigar.

“It is a little more complicated than that. Or so I’m told,” Gol’muk answered, “Indirect smoke will turn a human into one of us. Intelligent, functioning orcs. That’s why I kissed you to blow smoke into your lungs. Direct smoke will turn a human into what we call feral orcs. They are large, dumb and animal like. Even us orcs can’t stand them. Makes us look bad.”

“Oh,” Cameron said. He never knew there was such a thing as a feral orc.

“Orcs were once celebrated. We were here before the humans. The humans came and envied us, or so I’m told,” Gol’muk continued, “We had strength, power and grit, something many humans desired. Many tried to become orcs themselves by stealing our cigars, only to become feral ones instead.”

“Really?” Cameron asked, engaged in what he was learning.

“Oh yeah,” Gol’muk excitedly confirmed, “But eventually our ways were deemed barbaric and savage. The humans decided that their gods did not intend for orcs to exist. That we must have came from demons. So we were shunned. Exiled.”

Cameron remained quiet. He felt guilty that his father and his brother hunted and killed many orcs. They were just misunderstood.

“Just through that big tent,” Gol’muk pointed.

The two entered the royal tent and found King Gar’dom sitting on his throne.

“Morning,” the King spoke. The king look as regal as the night before. He spoke with a calmness, behind his cigar. “Look at you,” his attention went to Cameron, “You make a mighty orc, my son.”

“I’d have to agree, King” Gol’muk added.

“Umm…thank you, King,” Cameron said.

“Now before we reveal to the tribe their new prince, we must train him in our ways,” the King said to Gol’muk.

“Wait? Prince?” Cameron injected.

“Why yes. You are my new son, therefore you are the new Prince. My heir,” the King proudly spoke.

“I…don’t know…I…” Cameron stuttered.

“A son was taken from me, so one must replace him. That will be you,” the King continued.

“I…can’t,” Cameron said. Gol’muk looked worried at the new orc. “I don’t want to fight my family.”

“We are your family now, Son,” the King assured him, “You were never going to be king as a human. I have given you now that gift as an orc.”

This was true. He was now going to be a King one day.

The King continued, “I chose you in hopes of bringing peace between the humans and the orcs. To save many lives. Both orc and human.”

Cameron nodded. He understood now. “How can I be the Prince of the Orcs if I don’t know how to even be an orc?”

The King laughed, “That’s why Gol’muk is here. He is our head warrior. My most loyal advisor. He will train you our ways. Our culture. Our history.”

Cameron looked at Gol’muk, who gave him a friendly nod. “You’ll be okay,” Gol’muk added.

“Now, I must say though…Cameron isn’t much of an orc name. The surname Gar is our family name. Now…Gar….guk? Gar…lic? No, that’s ridiculous,” the King mumbled.

“How about Gar’ron?” Gol’muk suggested.

“I like it,” King Gar’dom said enthusiastically as he looked at Cameron.

“Me too,” the new prince agreed.

“Prince Gar’ron! My son! My heir!” King Gar’dom shouted with joy as he stood with his arms in the air.

The King told the two of them to be quiet about the new prince. He wanted to protect his new son and prepare him to lead the orcs.

Both Gol’muk and the orc now known as Gar’ron left the tent to begin training.

———

The first thing the two of them did was get Gar’ron fitted for his orc armor. They visited the orc who made the armor to get measurement. Until his armor was done, Gar’ron was stuck wearing his tattered pants.

The second thing was for Gar’ron to pick a weapon. In his human life, he mainly used swords. The two of them stood in the armory as Gar’ron looked at his choices.

“We don’t use sword,” Gol’muk stated, “We prefer axes or hammers. Sometimes maces.”

“Okay, what do you use?”

“Hammer,” Gol’muk answered.

“Okay,” Gar’ron said as he lifted a large hammer from the armory rack.

“Good choice,” Gol’muk smiled.

The two of them went outside. Gar’ron practiced swinging the hammer with precision. His muscles made the swinging easy, but he was still getting tired fast.

Gol’muk stood closely behind him, helping him with his form.

“You’re doing good,” Gol’muk complimented the prince.

“You’re a good teacher,” Gar’ron complimented back, causing his teacher to smile.

———

Days passed as Gol’muk taught him how orcs fought. Between fighting lessons, Gol’muk shared orc history and culture. Gar’ron was learning a lot and felt overwhelmed at times, but Gol’muk made things better.

The two of them were taking a smoke break. Gar’ron was smoking between 5 and 8 cigars a day now. He loved them. It only felt right when he had a large cigar between his tusks.

He noticed two orcs digging in the ground a few yards away. There was a fence encasing the land that was being dug.

“What are they doing?” Gar’ron asked.

“Digging up babies,” Gol’muk flatly said.

“Babies? Umm…how are they…?”

“Made?” Gol’muk grinned.

“Yeah.”

“When two orcs love each other, they both make a blood sacrifice. The combine their blood and bury it in the ground. A few month later, a baby emerges.”

“Oh…”

The two of them watched as the couple pulled a crying baby orc from the ground.

“You want to have kids?” Gar’ron asked.

“Yeah, someday,” Gol’muk answered.

———

A few weeks passed and Gar’ron was feeling at home.

“I have to ask,” Gar’ron said as he was putting away his practice hammer in the armory, “What’s up with the skulls? I see them around a lot.”

“A reminder of death,” Gol’muk said, “We don’t fear death. We respect it. We celebrate it. Death is just life transforming.”

This explanation made sense to Gar’ron. He wondered why the King wasn’t filled with grief. This outlook on death answered it.

“Full moon tonight,” Gol’muk stated as they walked through the camp at dawn, “That means free drinks at the bar tent. Care to join me?”

“Lead the way,” Gar’ron said with a smile.

The two orcs sat at the bar. It was full of orcs celebrating the full moon.

Gar’ron never had orc ale before, but it was dark and strong. He was feeling a strong buzz after just one.

The two orc chain smoked cigars and drank. Gar’ron even put his arm around Gol’muk, causing both of them to grin.

“So, find any orcs you fancy?” Gol’muk asked in a flirty way.

Gar’ron didn’t really think much of it before this night. He was focused on learning as much as he could about orc life.

He looked at Gol’muk in a different light. He suppressed it, but allowed himself to feel the butterflies in this moment. Prior to his transformation, he liked only women. He couldn’t imagine back then being attracted to an orc.

But now, he thought Gol’muk was the most beautiful creature in the world.

Gar’ron took a deep drag from his cigar and then chugged his beer. He finally exhaled the smoke with a “Maybe.”

Gol’muk grinned as he puffed away at his own cigar.

———

The next day was rough. Gar’ron had been drunk off of human ale in the past, but orc ale was completely different. As soon as he woke up, he lit up a cigar which made him feel better.

Gar’ron made his way to the training field and saw Gol’muk standing there. They both awkwardly waved at each other.

The two continued to train, but it a slow day. Both of them felt a bit hungover and barely spoke. Gar’ron couldn’t stop thinking about Gol’muk. Not as his trainer, but as someone he was attracted to. He was finally letting his natural orc emotions and sexuality take hold.

At the end of the day, the two of them walked to their tents quietly. They both puffed on their cigars.

“You know,” Gar’ron broke the silence, “I can’t stop thinking about the night I transformed.”

“What about it?” Gol’muk asked.

“The part when you kissed me,” Gar’ron confessed.

“You mean when I did this?” Gol’muk took a puff off his cigar and then kissed Gar’ron.

It was like their first kiss, except Gar’ron was kissing back. Smoke poured from their mouths.

From that night on, they slept together in the same tent.

———

Gol’muk and Gar’ron were a couple. They lived together and slept together for about a month.

The two of them where laying in bed as Gar’ron traced his finger along Gol’muk’s tattoos. “When did you get your tattoos?”

“About 10 years ago,” Gol’muk answered as he reached for a couple of cigars sitting on the nightstand.

“Who did them?” Gar’ron asked as he took one of the cigars from his partner.

“I did,” Gol’muk said proudly as he lit up his cigar using a candle.

Gar’ron did the same. “Really? Would you tattoo me?”

“Would love to,” his partner smiled.

Later that day, Gol’muk used his personal needle to ink up his partner.

The pain wasn’t too bad, Gar’ron thought as he puffed away at his cigar. He watched his partner give him a tribal like pattern on his arm, resembling the one Gol’muk had.

“Can you do piercings too?” Gar’ron asked with a grin.

———

It was time for Prince Gar’ron to be revealed to the tribe. Most of the other orcs just knew him as “the new one.” They had no idea his given orc name or title.

The Prince stood in the royal tent in his new armor. He looked in the mirror. He barely could remember his old life. He could barely remember what he looked like prior to his transformation.

All he saw was a strong orc with tattoos across his body. He also had Gol’muk pierce his nose. He now sported a septum ring.

The King, his father, walked in as he was adjusting his armor.

“I’m so proud of you, Son. You embraced our orc ways,” the King said.

“Thanks, Father,” Gar’ron said with a smile. His biological father had never told him that he was proud of him. King Gar’dom was his father now, and his father was proud of him.

“The tribe has gathered. I’ll head out and make the announcement, son,” the King said. Prince Gar’ron nodded as his father left.

He could hear the King on the other side, speaking to the crowd.

“My Orcs, as you know our Prince exchanged this life for death. Taken from us by the human King and his eldest son. However, we gained a new Prince. The second son of the human King. I chose him to join our Orc brotherhood. Over the past few months, he learned our ways and embraced them. He is human no more. He is destined to bring peace. Please welcome my son, my heir, Prince Gar’ron.”

Gar’ron took a deep breath, grabbed his cigar from the ashtray, placed it in his mouth, lifted up his war hammer and walked out.

He expected boos, being revealed that he was once human. However, he was meet with nothing more than cheers. He looked out at the crowd. Cameron would have been terrified seeing a bunch of orcs yelling at him, but Gar’ron saw family. Something that started as a curse was actually a gift.

Gar’ron rose his hammer up in the air. He was where he belonged. He was the Prince of the Orcs.