“Beebee, stop thinking about the flavor and start thinking about the power,” my mother, Molly, whispered, her voice a low rasp that sounded like sandpaper on velvet. “Empty a man’s penis, and he’ll do nearly anything for you.”

She wasn’t talking about the strawberry-mango vapor swirling around my head. She was talking about the way my lips had to seal, the way my cheeks had to hollow, and the desperate, rhythmic pull of my throat. I was nearly fifteen, and in our house, the transition from girl to woman wasn’t marked by a party or a dress, it was marked by a girl’s first vape and the path toward mastery of the intake.

Mom leaned in, her scent a dizzying mix of expensive perfume and cherry-lemon nicotine. She wasn’t just my mother; her mouth was the family’s very overworked cock socket. “You’re too soft, Beebee. You’re sucking on it like it’s a piece of candy. Suck it like it’s the only thing keeping you alive. Imagine it’s your father’s cock. Imagine it’s Frank or Rod, and they’re desperate to cum in your mouth. Feel their dickflesh in your mind.”

I looked at her, my eyes wide. “But Mom, is it ... does it actually help?”

“Honey,” she chuckled, a dark, knowing sound. “Your father is a lusty man. Your brothers are becoming lusty men. Since your big sister moved away for college, I’m the only one sucking them. I’m exhausted! Do you have any idea how tiring it is to keep five males satisfied twice a day each? My jaw aches just thinking about it!”

She reached out and swapped the device in my hand for a new one, a heavy, metallic gold vape with a deep, concentrated flavor of orange-pineapple. It felt substantial, almost intrusive.

“Now,” Mom commanded, her eyes gleaming with a predatory sort of pride. “Close your eyes. Don’t just inhale; draw. Use every muscle in your mouth to create a vacuum. Imagine the girth. Imagine the heat. If you can make a vape pen scream, you can make a man weep.”

I closed my eyes and obeyed. I wrapped my lips tight around the mouthpiece, feeling the cool metal against my skin, and I pulled. I pulled with everything I had, imagining the heavy, pulsing presence of the men in the house. I felt the vapor hit the back of my throat like a physical blow, and for a second, the world blurred. I wasn’t just vaping; I was practicing a craft, learning to be a great cocksucker.

“That’s it,” Molly murmured, her hand resting on the nape of my neck, guiding my head. “Harder. More. Give it everything. You have to learn the art of the vacuum, Beebee. The more you can take, the more they’ll give.”

As I sucked, the flavor of the orange-pineapple turned thick and syrupy, coating my tongue. I could hear the rhythmic sound of my own breathing, the desperation of the pull. I felt a strange, electric thrill racing through me, a mixture of submission to her will and a burgeoning, raw hunger of my own.