I've been asked for the link to my post of the fan sequel I wrote to Jack's Filthy Ass. I couldn't find my original post of this story, so I'm reuploading it.
By Kyle Corbeau on Tumblr
A fan-sequel to Jack's Filthy Ass by writinggross.
[Contains: M/M, Face-farting, hypnosis, Dom/sub, rimming, scat, scat consumption, Non-con.]
I have a hard time not thinking about what happened with Jack. It's only been four days and I still panic whenever I hear someone moving in the hall.
But tonight, I know I have reason to panic. My mom and her boyfriend have gone out of town for TEN DAYS over spring break, leaving me here alone with Jack's filthy ass. Just as I anticipate, the doorknob to my bedroom jiggles. I take a shaky, deep breath as I remind myself that I obsessive-compulsively locked the door when I got home to an empty house.
Then I hear a sound that makes my blood turn ice cold.
I whine in my throat as I shake my head in denial, but of course it's just an involuntary reaction, not preventative one. The door lock clicks and the handle turns. I'm suddenly wishing I'd worn more to bed than a skin-tight white tank. Jack's already in the doorway, smirking mischievously at me where I'm hiding under the covers.
The only thing he's wearing is a pair of horribly stained once-white briefs and pair of sweat socks than sound a bit like sponges when he takes a step. I can smell how foul he is from here, but unfortunately, i know from experience that the closer he gets, the more heinous the stench will become.
Then i realize what he has in his hand. It's an overnight bag.
"'Sup, Liam. I figure we can skip all the bullshit if I make this simple. You know what I need. You know I'm going to get it. I can wrestle you with the chains and shackles I have in the bag and do this the hard way, or you can remember that I can still tell everyone at school that you're my little ass-bitch."
I just nod at first, conceding that I can't stop him. He saunters over victoriously, sets the bag down next to my bed and sits down next to me on the mattress as I scoot over to give him as much room as possible. He chuckles, evilly, in my ears, though I'm sure it's probably his normal gentle laugh and I'm just biased.
He sprawls out on the bed, leaving me barely any room on the mattress, but I'm backed against the wall now and he scoots himself ever closer, his rank stink making me shudder in disgust and fear. Soon, he's laying right up against me, pulling the blankets out of the way, shedding the last of my shield as he pushes his big gut and massive thighs against me, wrapping his sausage-like arms around my shoulders and head as I whimper. His juicy, ripe pits are right by my face and his ass stink of rotten shit is permeating my entire bed. He lifts an arm and pushes my face into his armpit as I start to shed tears. One huge meaty leg is wrapped over mine and he kisses my hair softly as he rubs my face hard back and forth in his armpit. No locker room has ever smelled this bad. The smell is unfathomable and it's absolutely nothing compared to where my face and mouth will be... Fuck... My poor tongue is going to be eaten alive by his rotten, gungey hole.
I realize my body is shaking as I sob and he's laughing as he smears my face in his armpit. "Just get used to it, ya wuss. I have a week and a half to desensitize you. Once you realize your place in life is beneath a filthy fat slob, you're going to be begging me to do anything and everything I want to you. And we start like this."
Jack reaches into his briefs and pulls out a wadded up cloth item. It's one of his ratty white wifebeaters, but it's covered in greenish brown smears and completely drenched in buttcrack sweat and the familiar odor of his ass-juice. He lifts it to my face and I turn away in panic, but he smashes the putrid shirt against my face and I inhale from surprise. He holds it there like a toxic gas mask over my face and says, "Don't worry, Liam. You'll love that smell soon enough. Hell, if you want to let everyone at school know you fell in love with my filthy ass over vacation, I guess I can put up with people knowing about us. I can't imagine you just passing me in the hall like you usually do once I'm done with you."
"Jack," I say through the ass-juice-drenched shirt as I gag, "Isn't this just about you rubbing one out?"
"Remember my science project a couple of weeks ago?"
"You want to plant trees! You and every hippie in history!"
"No, Baby Boy. My project was on replenishable resources. This isn't about rubbing one out. This is about rubbing one out as many times as I want for as long as I want to. ...You like that nickname, Liam? Baby Boy?"
I sob harder when I realize he's planning to condition me to be his ass-bitch potentially for the rest of our lives and as I begin again to soak the shit-stained shirt with my tears, I figure out the nickname.
He's calling me 'Baby Boy' because his vile odor makes my eyes water.
Finally, he moves to put down the shitty wifebeater and starts peeling my own tank top off of my chest. As he pulls it up over my face, I'm suddenly met with a passionate kiss, his unwashed mouth and tongue that's probably got food from last week stuck to it, pushed flush against my own as he slobbers into my mouth and licks the back of my throat. I struggle for the first few seconds but realize there's no point. He rolls over on top on me, surrounding and crushing me with his massive form and ripe and rancid stench. He sloppily slobbers on my face in what I could only call an act of claiming.
Then, he takes his nasty wifebeater, puts in it his underwear, and at first I think hes wiping, but instead, he's cramming it into...
He's stuffing that shirt inside his nasty asshole!
It isn't long before he's unwadding the fetid garment and forcefully putting it on me.
The next thing I know, he's getting me positioned on the bed. I can't fight anymore. Not even a little. Something in me broke when he put that tainted tank on me.
So as he mounts my head and says, "Open up, Baby Boy... my pretty little ass-bitch... Lick inside me. You know you love it!", all i can do is physically obey, opening my jaw, sucking and tonguing his rotten insides. They taste like rotting meat that's been out in the sun for a week, and his hole clamps tight around my tongue, making me whine. I can hear him talking, but I can't consciously understand everything. Something about counting and relaxing and feeling his stink saturating my body with pleasure.
The last words I hear before I fade into unconsciousness are about needing his ass stink to get hard.
When I wake up, I'm still wearing the shit-tank and Jack's shit-smeared briefs are strapped to my face like a dust mask. I look at my clock. It's been ten hours. There's a recording of Jack's voice soothingly encouraging peaceful thoughts when I smell him and telling me how it feels so good to crave his filthy ass.
I roll my eyes at the stupidity. Hypnosis? Really? Jack's so desperate to make me his ass-worshiping bitch that he's turning to phoney pseudoscience?
I chew on the browned briefs for a moment, feeling better when I suck on the flavor.
Fuck. I'm keeping these. He's got plenty of filthy briefs and he can always make more.
I get out of bed, stuffing the shit-stained briefs all the way into my mouth and moaning as my morning wood throbs. I walk into the hallway, looking for Jack to tell him what a fucking idiot he is for thinking he could hypnotize me into wanting his foul fat ass, but when I don't see him in his room, I call out to him.
"Yo, Jack? Where you at?"
I hear his voice from his en suite bathroom shout, "I'm taking a dump!"
I perk up at the prospect, briskly heading for his bathroom door. "Mind if I join?"
He laughs his ass off before telling me threateningly that I'll regret if I don't. I quickly open the door, rush to him and kneel. He smirks down at me as I jerk away from the fetid odor and frown with visceral nausea until he takes my head in his hand and pulls me forward. "Sniff my shit, bitch. I'm making your breakfast."
I'm utterly revolted, on the verge of vomiting, but as I autonomically obey him and sniff the toilet from between his legs, my forehead pressed against his junk, euphoria and serenity wash over me and I hum in pleasure as I go boneless against his lap.
I've completely forgotten what I was going to say to him and somewhere in my mind, I realize what he meant about breakfast and my stomach growls.
He finishes shitting in the toilet, then he gets up and turns his unwiped ass towards me. The smell is worse than a port-a-potty and the stink is like rotten eggs saturating decomposing meat infused with sewage fumes.
I sniff deeply, my nose touching his crack as I fight my flight instinct. I want to run to somewhere safe and never witness this again.
But this is my safe place. I should be running to the very thing that engenders my panic.
"My ass isn't going to lick itself clean!" Jack growls at me.
My tongue dives in before I can stop it and I slurp and swallow the smears of fetid refuse until his ass is depressingly clean.
Then, I come out of myself and realize what just happened.
"YOU FUCKING NASTY BASTARD!" I scream, licking the revolting shit from my lips as he looks back at me in shock.
Then he says two words that freeze my entire body.
I cant move. I can't move at all!
He backs up a few inches, reaches back to roughly grip my hair in his fat fist and shoves my face between his cheeks.
"Suck my pucker!" Jack commands, and without my consent, my body obeys.
As my mouth wraps around his hole, sealing my face to his obscenely disgusting insides a long greasy fart hot as the sun is pumped into my lungs.
Then I feel it on my tongue.
It's hot, it's wet and it's worse than I ever imagined.
The clumps of shit pop out one at a time, filling my mouth, and Jack says, "Keep sucking my hole, mash my shit around in your mouth, swallow it and hate it even though you need it.
I feel like I'm going to vomit, to pass out or even maybe die, but as I use my tongue to press Jack's shit against every surface in my mouth, my morning wood rages and leaks.
I smell the shit from inside my mouth, the putrid fumes traveling up from the back of my throat, and even though I can't move my body away, I cry, tears streaming against the inside of Jack's asscrack as I sob, making him moan loudly.
When I swallow it, gulping the lumps down my throat, I cum hard and shoot my copious load all over the tile, but the sounds I make are anything but euphoric. With my mouth still sealed to his hole, I scream in visceral horror.
Jack sighs in pleasure and says, "Relax, Baby Boy. Just be yourself." I can suddenly move of my own accord and I stumble backwards on the bathroom floor. He turns around with hunger in his eyes. "Thank me for making you breakfast, bitch."
I can choose what to say now. I feel it. "Is this really happening?" I ask as I shake in terror.
His eyes darken and I realize that wasn't the right thing to say.
"I'm sorry, Jack. Th– thank you... I hate you...."
Jack pats me on the head affectionately with an evil smirk. "You're getting a full load for lunch. I'll let you know when I need to piss. Go cry on my bed until I'm ready to collar and fuck you."
By my own choosing, I lean forward and reverently kiss his filthy, musky balls.
After Jack enjoyed my first display of genuine admiration and affection, he shaved my shoulder-length hair down to a near-bald buzzcut, shaved my entire body completely smooth, had me rinse all the haircut debris away in the shower pissed all over me and down my throat, occasionally smearing his foul, acrid piss over my lips with his fat dick like he was putting my chapstick on for me.
Then, he declared that this is the first day of my new life.
Given our situation and encounters thus far, I expected words like that to be sadistic, threatening, mocking or some combination.
They weren't. He seemed genuinely happy, not just for himself but for me.
I'm just now realizing just how much this really is a new phase of life.
I'm walking out of my possible-stepbrother's/hopefully-boyfriend's bathroom naked after participating in things I never imagined while he walks with me wearing only the track pants he had on when he started this insanity.
This is the first time I've actually looked around Jack's room. Until today, I've been avoiding him as much as possible, and when I passed through through it from the hall to his ensuite bathroom less than two hours ago, I had single-minded focus and only observed enough of my surroundings to see which way his bathroom is.
Now, I look around in stunned silence as I realize how long he's been planning all of this: attacking me and riding my unwilling face, threatening me into submission then cuddling and kissing me as if he loves me – all before using some kind of aggressive brainwashing on me to make me his unwilling but devoted autonomically obedient, fart-addicted, shit-noshing slave.
We've known each other for less than two weeks and about ten days ago, my mom and I moved in to live with her boyfriend and her boyfriend's son, Jack.
As far as I knew, Jack had barely tolerated me.
Which is why it strikes me as odd that my favorite possessions (which were mysteriously lost in the move) are arranged throughout Jack's room as if they're his.
It's obvious the totality of this room's books, trinkets and miscellaneous items are from two very different people!
Jack's room looks as if we both live in it!
He planned this whole disgusting coercive seduction thing at least ten days ago, only a few days after we first met.
Possibly, the day we met.
I'm suddenly enraged! I feel like I'm going to belt out a primal, wordless scream at the top of my lungs, but Jack's thick arm curls around my waist and my anger drains away in a heartbeat as he kisses the top of my head.
"Cheer up, Baby Boy," Jack says with encouraging mirth. "You'll love living in here! It's over three times bigger than your old room, which means we have room for the fridges, sofa, spare bed, my reading chair and your new desk. Most importantly, we have a <i>private</i> bathroom, there's fantastic soundproofing and, after fourteen years with me in it, my personal musk is soaked into every inch of this very lucky room."
I laugh softly and playfully elbow Jack in his huge, studly gut before dropping to my knees in front of him and leaning forward. For a few moments, I let him think I'm leaning towards his exposed cock, then I abruptly bend down and take a big whiff of the carpet.
"Yep! This inch passes inspection!" I say as I try to lighten my own mood
He snorts loudly before falling down in a fit of (feigned?) hysterical laughter and with suspicious accuracy, he lands on top of me, his knees straddling mine, his fat belly weighing down on my back and his hands gripping my hips. He roughly pulls my hips backwards to grind his hard-on against my ass.
I shiver in revulsion, and for once, it has nothing to do with his heinous hygiene, his disgusting habits, his dominating-my-face-with-his-ass-and-anything-that-comes-out-of-it-fetish , or even the fact that almost all of our interactions have been when he forcibly dominated me, my will be damned.
I'm actually starting to like him, despite all of that.
After the ten hours of hypnotic bullshit, I'm starting to like him because of it.
I even like him enough to eagerly let him fuck me.
My instinctive revulsion is entirely because I am (was?) straight and having anyone's dick touch me at all viscerally grosses me out.
He groans happily above me and says, "Don't worry, Baby Boy. You're gonna get lucky too. Maybe right now..."
I start to lose control of my body as my own thoughts are disregarded and unheard. That's happened a lot this morning and at this point, I know it's more fun to enjoy hating it than to hate hating it.
"Fuuuuck!" I groan in a mix of anguish and euphoria. "Go fuck yourself, you fat, filthy, vile asshole! Your personality is even more shitty than your actual shit!"
Jack keeps a steel-strong grip on my hip as I hear the slide of his track pants against his skin.
"You get away with talking like that to me once," he growls through gritted teeth. "Would you care to rephrase?"
I keen in my throat as I feel his bare dick thumping against my asscheek.
"Yeah, Jack, I would. What I meant to say is I'm jealous of your bedroom. I wish you were inside me every night and I can't wait for you to soak your personal musk into every inch of me, because you're hot as fuck and I want everyone I meet to know I belong to you."
Jack slaps my ass so hard it feels like a punch and his dick begins sliding back and forth between my asscheeks, grazing across my pucker on every thrust. I can't tell if he's erotically teasing me or silently threatening me.
"Anything else, Baby Boy?"
My hips start grinding backwards against him, and to my shame, it's not because of the hypnosis.
"Y-yeah, Jack... Look I... I love you. I love you and I want you to own me use me and be my boyfriend. Please, Jack. I need you."
I'm about to start crying again until I feel him lean over me and sensually press his lips against my jaw from behind.
"Yeah, bitch," he whispers in sadistic apathy. "You do need me. You need me to own you, control you and use you. I'll always give you what you need, Baby Boy. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?"
The words sting at first (more from Jack's tone than their significance), but then Jack hugs me from behind and rubs the head of his thick, filthy cock against my hole, nearly breaching it. I relax happily, knowing this is my place and suddenly realizing he implied we're dating.
"Thanks, Jack..." I mumble with genuine gratitude. "I'll give you everything you need and anything I have to give."
He breathes hard against my neck as half an inch of his cock pushes past the ring of muscle. "Yeah. I know you will, Liam," says in a soft, loving tone. Then he kisses my neck, lifts away from me and helps me off the floor. I'm startled when I find myself launched through the air, but giddy when I land on Jack's bed.
The steel chain he locks in place with a matching padlock has a rusty iron finish, and just after the lock audibly clicks, we both heave joyful sighs of relief.
