Sheriff Smoke Out

Sheriff John didn’t know why his precinct had quickly fallen from the best in the city to the worst. Their numbers were now the lowest, and no matter how many men he had on duty they never seemed to get anything done. They hadn’t completed any investigations for the past 3 months.

It all started when the latest recruit joined. Supposedly top of the class, they were meant to get more stuff done. Instead, they disappeared every day, only to return with no report. That laziness seemed to spread to the rest of the department, no one seemed to work anymore.

John walked into the department nervous. He had a meeting scheduled that day with the commissioner to address the issues. John didn’t know what he was going to do. Firing the entire department was in no way an option, was it?

He entered the main room that morning. Already a soft haze was in the air from men smoking indoors. John didn’t pay it too much mind. If anything, it was a return to status quo from when he first joined the unit. While he had never gotten into smoking, he really didn’t give a damn about anyone doing it. He had grown used to all his former superiors flooding the room with their cigars. He couldn’t care less about it as long as it didn’t get in his own space.

As John unlocked his office, Chief Deputy walked into view, a cigar bulging out of his lip.

“Hey Luke, what’s up?” John addressed.

Luke nodded. “Jus’ remindin’ you bout’ the commissioner comin’ in this morning. You know what yer gonna say?” Luke said, following into John's office.

“I’ll figure something out…” John paused. “Any men decide to shape up yet? And no smoking in my room.”

“S'rry. All men th' same.” Luke answered. He made no effort to remove the stooge.

John sighed. He had initially thought he himself was the problem since none of the officers seemed to respond to him. He made the decision to have the men report to Luke instead, allowing Luke to bridge the gap. Nothing seemed to change however.

John raised a hand to his head. It had started to feel fuzzy, a slight numbing buzz. It reminded him of what being around his superiors had been like, that he had to have been standing in the smoke too long. “Anything else?” He said, trying to end the conversation.

“Yuh, commission'r said pull up all the men’s files to review them. Ah went ‘head 'n grabbed 'em, yuh jus’ godda look over 'em” Luke said, holding out the folders.

As the Sheriff turned to Luke for the files, the deputy blew smoke right in John’s face. John flinched, quickly waving his hand in the air to diffuse it, his face heating up from inhaling the breath. “I said no smoking in my room!” He managed to get out in a cough, struggling to catch his breath.

John could tell something about the smoke was affecting him. Usually he would have shouted up a storm, shouted at Luke to get himself together. Now though, everything felt dimmer, his thoughts muffled, reflexes gone. It was as if the smoke had somehow entered his head and clouded his mind, acting as a sedative.

John tried taking a deep breath to replenish his oxygen, hoping to clear his head only to get a lungful of smokey air that made him immediately cough. “One second,” he said, managing to lean over his desk before beginning to coughing up a storm.

Something was burning in the back of John's throat, caught stuck, and John couldn’t get it. Finally Luke forced a lit cigar into John’s hand, and as if by habit, the sheriff brought it to his mouth unquestioning, quickly bringing in smoke.

“Mmmm” John sighed, letting out a soothing moan. The smoke hit the spot immediately, dousing the burning sensation like a warm rub. John’s eyelids dropped, satisfied, the warmth continuing up into his head.

With a direct path in, John was compromised. The spark in his head was blown out by the smoke rolling across his mind, his thoughts flooding out from the haze. The warm fuzzy feeling began spreading to his exterior, the sheriff clueless as white fuzzy curls started to appear across his face.

As John exhaled, his vision was blinded by a haze for a second before clearing. He looked back to find all present officers suddenly in the room with him, as if to check on him. John felt immediately vulnerable.

“All ya’ll gedd ouda here” John stuttered, angrily. “I need tuh prepare for my meeting”.

Luke and the men quickly left, shutting the door behind them.

John didn’t know why he was suddenly talking like he had a rod stuck in his mouth. Or why his face felt like it was covered in a carpet. Or why each breath seemed to make the world slower while every exhale fogged up his vision. All those questions, however, suddenly slipped his mind like wisps of smoke. His reduced attention was brought back to the files given to him, and he mindlessly started turning pages, an empty gaze settling in.

John tried not to get distracted by the haze slowly growing in his room while his eyes skimped over the team records. He cursed at the officers- They were clearly smoking so much it was getting into his office. John needed to take longer puffs to settle his nerves, allow the warm smoke to fill his head and relax him, the air in the room quickly growing opaque from his breaths. John was almost unable to see the paper now that a light haze had permanently settled into his vision, smokey cataracts growing on his eyes much like the tainted air.

John leaned back in his chair giving up on his reading, unable to make his mind comply. He took comfort in the breaths of fresh tobacco he rolled in his mouth, each one sending an increasing wave of comfort through him. He could almost imagine the smoke swelling inside him, growing in his body like a pillow being stuffed. Then he saw the tip of his cigar drop away quickly before hitting his buttons.

He cursed sitting up, looking down at the damage the grey ash had made to his shirt. John was surprised by how easily he could view it, a white expanse stretched taut across bottom of his vision. No, stretched taught across his body. He brought up his hands to his shirt, realizing the horizon of his vision was the crest of a giant belly. A belly that he did not have before.

Shocked, John tried sitting up, struggling for a moment as he did his best to make sense of what had happened to his body. It was swollen, his stomach pressed into his shirt, ironing it across his skin. He could hardly move. The weight of his stomach placed him deeply into the chair, his widened rear pressing into the chair's arms anchoring him there. It was as if he’d inflated like a balloon.

Panicking, he took another puff of his cigar, taking solace in the warm feeling of comfort that rolled through his body again. But as he breathed out, he saw it now. It was as if he hadn't exhaled. With each puff, his body only grew, his globe of a stomach visibly expanding and making the pile of ash sitting atop his belly more and more visible.

The pile of ash on his shirt. He quickly forgot his growing predicament and put the cigar down, distracted by the mess. He brought his hands up once more, attempting to scrub off the burn only to end up making it look worse. He groaned and attempted to stand, fighting against his newly weighted body. Once he was up, he decided to unbutton and remove the top in an attempt to wave the ash out of the threads.

As soon as his surface made contact with the open air, the smoke soaked into it, pulling out wisps of white hair all across his chest and shoulders. It was only a matter of moments before his entire body was coated in dusty fur, much akin to the cloud lingering in the room around him. He grabbed the cigar once more, puffing once more to try to calm down before his attention returned to the shirt. He became too busy shaking it to hear the knock on the door.

Commissioner Reed opened the door to the sight of a half-naked man he didn't recognize at first standing center of the room. Almost the entire space was taken up in body weight and fur. Reed coughed from the fumes of smoke escaping the room, aghast at the aged sight of what was supposedly his acquaintance. John noticed too late, unable to hide his portly body behind his stretched button-up.

“M'ah 'poligies Reed” John said, fumbling to get his shirt back on with a cigar dangling from his lip. “I didn’ hear yuh knock. Please com’ in”

Reed stared for a moment, watching the globe of a man trying to wear a shirt that clearly no longer fit him.

“Age really has gotten you John, hasn’t it?” Commissioner asked, finally recognizing his peer.

“Huh?” John responded. “Oh, yessir”

Commissioner tried to make sense of how a man he'd worked with for several years had changed drastically since they last saw each other. Smoking was one thing, but the weight and white hair? Reed was beyond shocked.

Reed tried to calm himself. “I didn’t know you smoked so much”

“I don’t” John replied, ignorantly puffing away at his cigar, finally managing to button the last one as it barely stretched tightly across his belly. He didn’t notice Commissioner’s raised eyebrow.

“Please, sit." John continued, "And don’t let too much smoke in the room” He said, motioning to the seat in the corner before crashing down on his own.

Commissioner looked skeptically at John, deciding to leave the door wide open. The smoke barely began to filter out while the Sheriff kept a steady output supplied. Reed looked over to the chair packed high with files, opting to stand instead.

John motioned to the folders in front of him, not noticing that the pile had grown. “Ah went 'head n’ pulled up ’ll the men’s files sir. Got their numbuhs an’ everythin”.

“Off the top, of your head, how many investigations completed in the last month?” Reed asked.

“None. I got no reports” John coughed, “Men have been, hick slacking off”

The commissioner looked around the room, noticing several stacks of paper and folders strewn across the room before directing his attention to the chair. “What are these, then?” He said, pointing them out.

The sheriff narrowed his eyes, having trouble focusing through the smokey haze of the room. He could just outline a huge stack of folders sitting right there that he was certain wasn’t before.

He immediately felt a splitting jolt to his head, forcing him to raise a hand to it. "What was going on?" He thought. Was he having a migraine? Why did he suddenly have trouble seeing everything? He let out a breath, causing everything to fog up for another moment before everything cleared.

“That’s just crap the men keep handing in” John felt himself respond. He watched Reed grab the file on the top of the stack before beginning to flip through it. John immediately felt sweat forming on his skin, his underarms quickly damp, visible sweat stains on his shirt. Why hadn’t he noticed the folders before? And why was he feeling nervous about it?

He only had a second to think before he heard a knock at his door, bringing his attention to Luke standing in the open doorway with a paper bag in his hand. The smell of greasy fried food quickly flooded John’s nostrils, completely distracting him from his thoughts.

“Lunch’s here” Luke said, standing at the door.

John looked back to Reed with wide eyes, like a puppy waiting to be fed. Reed barely looked up, nodding as he grabbed another file from the stack.

Luke plopped the bag down on John’s desk right in front of the drooling sack of a man.

John completely forgot about the two other men, opening the bag and exposing several large wrapped hoagies. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the food as hunger consumed his thoughts. He grabbed a sandwich and tore off the paper, greedily beginning to stuff his face with the fattening food.

Reed watched John with disbelief, suddenly beginning to grasp to the extent John had let himself become the fat pig he witnessed. Reed could barely keep his composure, disgusted watching the man before him devour the food, his colleague's stomach increasingly threatening to rip the shirt with each bite.

Reed looked down at the missing reports in his hands, quickly realizing what this was about. He thought he grasped the reason why the team had been so unproductive.

“John,” Reed said sternly. The hog stopped mid-bite, looking up at his superior with a confused look on his face.

Reed continued, “I think it’s time for you to quit the force.”

John stared for a moment, food still in his mouth in disbelief. “What'aya talk'n about?” John replied. “These men don’ do any work 'round here.”

“I think you’re the one who’s been distracted,” Reed said, nodding to the bag of food on the desk. “You’ve been doing nothing but eating and smoking, and I don’t know how you can get any work done in here anymore.”

Reed looked John up and down, no recognizable trace of the Sheriff he once knew. “It’s time to move on.”

John looked down, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under him.

“Let your next man take over and respectfully retire. Otherwise, I’ll have to make the call.”

Reed stood there for a moment, taking the time to grasp the decision he'd made before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him and trapping the smoke inside. John took another gasp of smoke, the warmth of it immediately sending his thoughts to a daze. He looked down at the food, giving into his cravings and finishing it, ignoring everything else. Finally he stood up still feeling empty, throwing the paper bag away in his bin before stepping back out into the office.

He looked around, finding himself surrounded by his group of men. It felt like this was the first time he’d seen them in a while. All were fat, stuffed into barely fitting uniforms, slowly puffing away at huge cigars.

Luke spoke up. “How’d it go, sir?”

John could understand Luke clearly now. He looked one last time behind him at his office, before looking ahead at the room filled with round men, clouds of smoke, and food wrappers.

“It's time for me to retire,” John said. “You're the new sheriff.”

John could hardly see Luke through the smoke. He thought he felt a hint of malice for a moment.

“I appreciate the promotion, sir, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have a use." Luke said with a wink. "We’re not gonna let your fat mindless self go to waste.”

A roll of laughter spread through the men surrounding John. The smoke in the room seemed to grow thicker with them standing so close, each man puffing away at their cigar. The smoke seemed to envelope John in a warm embrace. John felt him mind drift away, the haze in his head removing his worries and replacing them with a belonging.

Luke wrapped a hand around John's fat chin, pulling John down. John let himself follow, his heavy body easily taken to his knees by his new weight. His vision was suddenly fuzzy as Luke exhaled above him, the smoke falling onto John's face. A surge of heat spread through his body giving him the urge to take off his uniform, and he did, exposing his body hair and pudgy stomach to the room. The men standing above him all seemed to be in the same state, their bodies growing bigger and rounder as they lowered their pants revealing their cocks to him.

John felt his own hunger growing, his mouth feeling dry. He realized his cigar was missing, his mouth aching for something to take its place. He could feel all the men standing around him, their hands slowly running over his body, the smoke in the room intensifying the pleasure of their touch.

John let himself drift away in the moment, the pleasure and heat of the room taking over his thoughts. He was in a trance, taking cock after cock in his mouth, unable to stop himself from pleasing the men around him.

He kept going, his hands and mouths exploring their bodies until he felt himself drenched in sweat and cum. Once it was over, his vision slowly returned, the men around him looking satisfied as if they had just taken part in some kind of ritual.

John looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened. He felt embarrassed and ashamed, but he also felt oddly satisfied. He had been turned into a sex toy for them, nothing more than a mouth to use, and he was strangely content with it. He'd managed to find and light another cigar, turning to a seat in the corner to relax in. It wouldn't be long before he found himself under the men's desks again, satisfying them as he let the smoke fill his empty mind.