This series will be divided into multiple parts, the next parts are coming soon, stay tuned and subscribed to get alerted when new stories are released.
- The insider (part 1)
- The insider (part 2)
- The insider (part 3)
- The insider (part 4)
- The insider (part 5)
- The insider (part 6)
- The insider (part 7)
- The insider (part 8)
- The insider (part 9)
- The insider (part 10)
Marta Delgado sat on the edge of her unmade bed in the small two-bedroom apartment, the morning light struggling to cut through the dense, bluish haze that now permanently filled every room. A long Vogue dangled from her lips as she buttoned her blouse. The once-crisp white fabric was already showing yellowish stains near the cuffs. She took a deep, greedy drag, cheeks hollowing sharply, and held the smoke in her lungs for a long, luxurious moment before exhaling a thick stream through her nose. The nicotine rush made her eyes flutter with pleasure. This was her ninth cigarette of the morning, and it wasn’t even 8:15 a.m.
She was completely, shamelessly addicted.
The transformation had been total. The woman who once proudly declared herself “smoke-free for life” now lived and breathed tobacco. Her apartment was a smoker’s den: overflowing crystal ashtrays on every surface, empty Vogue packs scattered like confetti, burn marks on the coffee table from forgotten cigarettes. The walls had taken on a permanent yellowish tint. Even the boys’ rooms smelled faintly of smoke now, though she tried to keep their space cleaner. Lucas and Mateo had stopped complaining weeks ago. They simply accepted that Mommy smoked all the time — at breakfast, while helping with homework, while watching TV, while driving. Marta no longer bothered to hide it. A cigarette was almost always between her lips or burning in an ashtray nearby.
She lit a fresh one from the dying ember of the previous, inhaling deeply as she finished getting ready. Her cough had become a constant wet rattle, but she found it strangely comforting now — a sign that she was truly living the experience she was helping others discover.
Today was the third session with her new group.
The five women — Laura, Claire, Sophia, Elena, and Rebecca — had all shown up for the first two sessions, nervous and reluctant, but they kept coming back. Marta had a gift for guiding them. She understood exactly what they were going through because she had lived the same journey, only faster and far more intensely.
She arrived at the association early, already on her twelfth cigarette of the day. She walked through the hazy hallways with a Vogue dangling casually from her lips, nodding at colleagues who were doing the same. The entire building had embraced the new culture. Smoke was everywhere.
The small orientation room was prepared: comfortable chairs arranged in a circle, ashtrays on small tables beside each seat, lighters, and several open packs of the special high-nicotine Vogues. Marta lit another cigarette as she waited, inhaling deeply while she reviewed her notes.
The five women arrived together at 10 a.m., looking a mixture of apprehensive and curious. They had all completed their first week of the program, and Marta could already see the changes.
Laura, a 38-year-old teacher, was the most transformed. She had gone from coughing violently on her first cigarette to now lighting up with visible anticipation. Claire, a fitness instructor, still looked slightly guilty but couldn’t hide how much she was enjoying the ritual. Sophia and Elena, both young professionals, were smoking more casually now. Rebecca, the quietest, had become almost addicted to the head-rush.
“Welcome back,” Marta said warmly, her own cigarette dangling from her lips as she spoke. “How have you all been doing with the schedule?”
The women shared their experiences. Laura admitted she had smoked nearly a pack and a half the previous day. “I told myself I’d stick to the plan,” she said, lighting a fresh Vogue, “but after the fourth one… I just kept going. It feels so good now.”
Marta smiled proudly. “That’s exactly what happens. Your body starts to understand what it’s been missing.”
She guided them through the session with patience and seductive encouragement. They lit up together, and Marta demonstrated proper deep inhaling technique, taking long, sensual drags while explaining how important it was to pull the smoke all the way into the lungs.
“Feel it,” she said, holding the smoke deep before exhaling a thick plume. “This is what real smokers experience. This is the pleasure they chase. Don’t fight it. Let it in.”
One by one, the women followed her lead. Coughing became less frequent. Hesitation turned into reluctant enjoyment. By the end of the two-hour session, all five were smoking steadily, some with cigarettes dangling from their lips as they talked. Laura was already on her fifth of the session. Claire had stopped fighting the head-rush and was visibly relaxing into it.
Marta watched them with dark satisfaction. She was turning them, one greedy inhale at a time.
Over the following days, she met with the group almost daily. She took them through increasing numbers — two cigarettes per day, then three, then four. She shared her own story openly: how she had once hated smoking, how the experiment had awakened something in her, how she now couldn’t imagine life without a cigarette between her lips.
The women responded beautifully.
Laura became the fastest convert. By day ten she was chain-smoking openly, lighting one from the end of the last during their sessions. She confessed during one meeting that she now smoked in her car before picking up her children from school and kept a pack hidden in her nightstand for late-night cravings.
Claire fought the hardest at first, but once she crossed the threshold of ten cigarettes a day, she surrendered completely. She started carrying a small portable ashtray in her gym bag and admitted she looked forward to her post-workout cigarette more than the workout itself.
Sophia and Elena began smoking together during lunch breaks at their offices, giggling like schoolgirls at first, then smoking with quiet intensity as the addiction took hold.
Rebecca, the quietest, became the most intense. She was soon smoking over a pack and a half a day, her eyes often half-lidded with constant nicotine bliss as she would spend her time chain smoking.
Marta guided them all with a mix of maternal care and seductive encouragement. She lit cigarettes for them, demonstrated proper inhaling technique, praised them when they took deeper drags, and celebrated every new personal record. She shared smoky kisses with a few of them during particularly intimate moments in the orientation room, deepening the bond and the pleasure.
By the end of the third week, all five women were heavy smokers. They no longer coughed. They no longer hesitated. They lit up freely during sessions, dangling cigarettes from their lips as they talked, exhaling thick plumes while discussing how much they now understood the “other side.”
Marta was glowing with pride.
On the final Friday of the month, she called Angela and Rachel for a private debrief in the strategy room.
The three women met in the hazy private conference room. Angela and Rachel were already smoking when Marta arrived. Marta immediately lit a fresh Vogue, inhaling deeply as she sat down.
“How is your group progressing?” Angela asked, taking a long, luxurious drag.
Marta smiled around her cigarette. “They’re all heavy smokers now. Laura is up to nearly a pack and a half a day. Claire seems to have turned into a chain smoker. Sophia and Elena smoke together constantly. Rebecca is the most addicted of all — she barely puts them down anymore. They’re all completely converted. They crave it. They enjoy it. They understand.”
Rachel’s eyes gleamed with dark pleasure. She lit another Vogue and passed it to Marta so she had one in each hand.
“You’ve done excellent work,” Rachel said, exhaling a thick plume. “Angela and I are very proud.”
Angela took a deep drag, held it, and exhaled sensually. “This is exactly what we needed. With your group as proof, we can expand the program. More non-smokers. More data. More converts.”
Marta took two simultaneous drags from the cigarettes in her hands, moaning softly at the double rush. “I’m ready for more. I want to bring in bigger groups. I want to watch more women discover what we’ve discovered.”
The three women sat together, smoking heavily, planning the next phase of the corruption while thick clouds of menthol smoke filled the room. Angela and Rachel exchanged satisfied glances. Their plan was working better than they had ever dreamed.
Marta, once their fiercest potential opponent, had become one of their most effective instruments.
And she had never been happier.
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