He had been on me for hours playing battlefield. Blasting farts on my mouth and laughing, chugging soda. He laid back deep as my nose slid farther in his dirty manhole as a wet warm stinky fart blasted over my face. I was bound, squirming, he didn’t wipe after shitting at the gym yesterday. He had a kill streak going as he wriggled his ass and bounced laughing. He liked it when his mic picked up the sound of his wet farts because his buddies kept laughing and sometimes farted back.
“Got something here for you faggot” he pulled his gym shorts down and rested his sweaty musky man nuts on my forehead. His asshole relaxed as he sighed. “So glad I can take a dump while I play, clean the rest of the house when I get done faggot”
He had been on me for hours playing battlefield. Blasting farts on my mouth and laughing, chugging soda. He laid back deep as my nose slid farther in his dirty manhole as a wet warm stinky fart blasted over my face. I was bound, squirming, he didn’t wipe after shitting at the gym yesterday. He had a kill streak going as he wriggled his ass and bounced laughing. He liked it when his mic picked up the sound of his wet farts because his buddies kept laughing and sometimes farted back.
“Got something here for you faggot” he pulled his gym shorts down and rested his sweaty musky man nuts on my forehead. His asshole relaxed as he sighed. “So glad I can take a dump while I play, clean the rest of the house when I get done faggot”
Your cousin Jonathan was a big guy, and he certainly fit in at home in Texas. He rode horses and worked on his farm, but at the same time was a major CEO at a pharmaceuticals firm.
You hated him. He was successful and had everything. You on the other hand, were short, nerdy and had just been made redundant from your job. So, when your parents forced you to take a job at Jonathan’s company you were less than thrilled.
It was your first day, and you had been instructed to report straight to Jonathan’s office. You were not looking forward to it. When you were kids Jonathan had always been a bit of a bully, he used to love getting one up on people, and you could tell that he absolutely loved himself. You knocked the door, and heard a deep, “Come in” from the other side.
Your jaw nearly hit the floor when you stepped through to the other side of the door. Standing there, in the middle of the room, in only a cowboy hat, was Jonathan.
“Jesus Christ! What on earth are you…” You began to say, before Jonathan burped loudly cutting you off.
“Be quiet bitch tits.” Jonathan commanded. “Strip your clothes and kneel in front of me.”
“What the fuck!? Jonathan, are you sick in the head!?”
Jonathan stepped forward and slapped you in the face. You fell backwards, stunned.
“No. But I know you’re thick in the head fagboy. Who do you think your parents will believe if you walk out of here and quit this job now? Me. We all know it. And that means they’ll cut you off, won’t they?”
You cast your eyes down. Fuck. He was right. He had you backed into a corner, you’d have to do what he said. Through gritted teeth you said, “What do you want Jonathan?”
Jonathan smiled smugly, he knew that he’d said the right thing. He had you. “Well first of all, complete the first instructions I gave you.”
Your face red with shame, and unable to look at Jonathan, you peeled your clothes off, exposing your weak body to his far stronger one. Then unceremoniously, and quickly you sank to your knees, realising you were now face to cock with your cousin.
He took a step towards you, and that’s when the stench really hit you. Stale B.O. Jonathan clearly hadn’t showered in a while. The stench actually made you gag a little. Jonathan noticed this, and laughed smugly, he loved making people bask in his scent.
“ I see you’ve noticed my alpha smell.” He laughed, towering over you like a God. “Well, it’s actually the reason I’ve employed you.” This wouldn’t be good, you thought.
“I need a new assistant, and my assistants have a very special job you see, they’re hired to worship me, be my bitches, let me bully and humiliate them and most of all love my rank smells as much as I do.” He continued, you groaned. This was the same as when you were kids, he loved to make you do disgusting, embarrassing things to prove he was better than you. “And now you’re going to be my new assistant. What a privilege, bitches were lining up around the corner to get as close to a God like me as they could. But I said no, I need to help out my pathetic little cousin, and I want that bitch to have the best job in this company, working so closely and personally with an Alpha male master like me. Now, you know the situation, if you refuse, I’ll tell your parents, and that’ll finish you. So if you agree, and want the job, I’d like you to kiss and lick my sweaty balls.”
You were screwed. This was awful, and you’d have to do it. Face red with shame, unable to look at your cousin, you placed your head in his stinking groin, and kissed his annoyingly large ballsack.
“Keep going, I want your tongue to taste like those big balls all day!” Jonathan laughed, he was in his element, a big strong alpha being worshipped by an inferior male, he loved it. You could just about hear his happiness in his voice, mixed in with his total arrogance obviously. But you tried to push the salty sweaty taste of his balls and what you were doing to the back of your mind. You’d get out of this soon. Hopefully.
“Now, onto the main event of the morning!” Jonathan announced, pulling back from you, letting you out of his crotch stench for a moment of relief. “Let’s Get you set up with your duties for today. Now, this morning I had a big greasy breakfast bitchtits. Eggs, bacon, sausages, and I washed it down with my usual protein shake. Tell me, what did your sissy ass have?”
“Granola. What has this got to do with anything? Haven’t you humiliated me enough for today?” You whined, you knew pleading wouldn’t work, but it was worth a shot.
“Don’t question me fag.” Jonathan growled down at you. He could actually be quite scary when he wanted to be. You flinched backwards. He obviously noticed that he had scared you because he began to laugh obnoxiously. “Don’t act all scared bitch, you’re fine. Anyway, you had a sissy breakfast, so you’ll get treated like a sissy. I had an alpha males breakfast, so I’ll act like one. For the next while you’re going to be licking my farts, my greasy breakfast farts from my dirty smelly asshole. And if I get even a single whiff of the obnoxious gas my ass can produce then you’ll be in for a huge punishment. Understood?”
You groaned, this was the worst. Why this!? This was how he used to bully you when you were younger. You never thought you would be licking farts as a grown adult, but here you were. This was shameful. You felt angry and humiliated, but what could you do. Through gritted teeth you said, “Understood.”
“Great, you’ll be loving it I bet!” Jonathan laughed, before turning around and shoving his dirty, eggy, swamp ass at your face. The smell immediately hit you, and it caused you to gag. “Press your face into daddy’s sewage cannon.”
Revolted, you leaned forward, sinking your face into Jonathan’s sweaty, hairy cheeks. He let out a relieved sigh, and you could just imagine the smug smile that was on his face just now. You felt him jiggle his ass up and down, securing you further in place. You were sure he hadn’t wiped down here well, you were literally brown nosing, this was disgusting. Then it got worse.
PRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT
A booming fart that smelled like old cabbage splattered onto your face. You gagged. “Put your pink on my stink!” He laughed. “Get to licking.”
You tentatively stuck out your tongue, totally dreading what you were about to do. You ran your tongue up Jonathan’s hairy sweaty asscrack. It tasted like pure shit. It was sweaty. It made you feel sick. He just laughed above you, he was the boss, he was the alpha, and he loved it.
PPPPPPRRRRPRPPPPPTTTTTFFFFFFFF
The loudest fart you had ever heard burst onto your tongue. Again you licked. Again you tasted shit. And again you hated this situation. Jonathan laughed. He was loving this.
PPPPPPFFFFPPPPPPPFFFFFFFTTTTTTT
An airy fart came next. It stunk. It stung your nostrils it stunk so bad. You just wallowed miserably in the fart cloud, while Jonathan stood above you, happy that he was forcing you to degrade yourself. “Brace yourself now bitch tits, here comes a big one, I can feel my stomache brewing something special up for your fairy mouth! Clamp your lips around my hole!” Jonathan ordered, laughing. He sounded so arrogant, God you hated him. Regretting your decision as you were doing it, you clamped your lips around his hole.
The loudest and stinkiest fart you had ever encountered burst into your mouth. You gagged, your eyes watered. This was awful, you tried to hold back your sick. “I’m so proud of what I could produce for my little bitch!” Jonathan roared with laughter. You knew he actually was proud of how awful his fart was.
This went on for another hour, Jonathan verbally degrading you and farting in your face. He was an alpha male and you were a bitch, you were so humiliated. Eventually he pulled himself off your face, and turned around. “Time for task two!” He laughed. “But first wipe that skidmark off your face!”
He strolls over with a confident smirk, his broad, muscular frame casting a shadow as he stops right in front of us. Without even acknowledging me, he turns to my girlfriend, flashing her a charming smile and offering a casual compliment that brings a blush to her cheeks.
I step in, clearing my throat to remind him I'm there but he only chuckles, barely glancing my way. "She deserves a real man's attention," he says, a teasing edge in his voice. He flexes his biceps subtly and gives my girlfriend a playful wink.
When I attempt to object again, he places his heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezes it slightly, "Relax, boy". He flexes his biceps in front of me, making a point of his size and power, then looks down at me with a raised eyebrow, "You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself, would you?"
After a quick moment of silence as I stand there helplessly, he continues, “I thought so” and a cocky smirk spreads over his face.
He turns back to my girlfriend and continues to charm her, while I’m left there, completely outmatched and humiliated, forced to watch as he asserts his dominance.
He strolls over with a confident smirk, his broad, muscular frame casting a shadow as he stops right in front of us. Without even acknowledging me, he turns to my girlfriend, flashing her a charming smile and offering a casual compliment that brings a blush to her cheeks.
I step in, clearing my throat to remind him I'm there but he only chuckles, barely glancing my way. "She deserves a real man's attention," he says, a teasing edge in his voice. He flexes his biceps subtly and gives my girlfriend a playful wink.
When I attempt to object again, he places his heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezes it slightly, "Relax, boy". He flexes his biceps in front of me, making a point of his size and power, then looks down at me with a raised eyebrow, "You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself, would you?"
After a quick moment of silence as I stand there helplessly, he continues, “I thought so” and a cocky smirk spreads over his face.
He turns back to my girlfriend and continues to charm her, while I’m left there, completely outmatched and humiliated, forced to watch as he asserts his dominance.
Bill had enjoyed his job the last few years, especially after getting the promotions. He had looked forward to future promotions in the company, but plans had changed. The company was merging with another one. There was word going around that nothing was going to change despite the merger, but he soon found that was completely the opposite. Shortly after the merger happened, his position was cut, leaving him without a job. He wasn't the only one since they were cutting other employees as well. To make things worse, they weren't hiring new employees just yet.
Larry saw the depressed look on his roommate's face. "What happened?" He asked.
"This new merger is crap. That's what happened. They let a lot of us go and got rid of my position. They wouldn't even find a position for me after being there so long." Bill said as he opened up a beer. "This really sucks." He added.
"I am sure you will find a new job soon though." Larry encouraged him.
Bill put in applications at many places including his roommate's job, but no one was replying. Soon, six months had gone by with no luck. His roommate was in a great position that he could work from home instead of going in. He saw that Larry loved working from home.
One day, Larry was at his computer online. He loved working from home, but wanted to be more comfortable. He had a comfortable chair, but nothing to rest his feet on. He would see Bill laze around the house a lot while he worked. An idea then sparked in his mind. It would be a way to give Bill something to do and make working online more comfortable.
Bill heard Larry call for him. "You needed something?" He asked, looking at him about to get online for work.
"Yeah, I want you to lie under my desk for a little bit," Larry suggested.
Bill looked and saw a pillow under Larry's desk. "Why do you want me to do that?" He was confused.
"Just do it, and I will show you why. It's not like you're busy at the moment anyway." Larry added.
Wondering why he wanted this, Bill got on his back and slid under his desk. He placed the back of his head on the pillow. He saw Larry slide his chair up further. Soon his vision was blotted out by his roommate's socked feet.
"Yeah, now that is much better. Comfy chair and comfy footrest. I think I can work much better this way." Larry said to himself as though Bill wasn't there.
"What are you doing?" Bill muffled under Larry's feet. He tried moving his face around, but Larry would just keep moving his face back into position.
"It should be obvious. You are my footrest while I work. I give you something to do, and I have a comfy footrest while I work." Larry explained, wiggling his socked toes. "And stop moving, a footrest is supposed to stay still." He added with a smirk on his face.
"But your feet stink," Bill complained through Larry's feet. The smell of the socks was strong. It was a cross between muck and stale cheese odor. He heard his roommate tell him again to stop moving his face. "But your feet really reek." He complained even more.
"Oh well, get used to it. Until you get hired for a new job, you will be doing this for me when I work online." Larry rubbed his socked feet on Bill's face.
"Ugh, do you wash your socks?" Bill asked as he finally relented and stopped moving his face. The odor was rather gross to smell. He opened his mouth one time, and the taste was so nasty. He heard Larry laughing above him.
"Some socks I wear more than once or for several days, then I wash them." Larry laughed. He briefly felt Bill's tongue on the sole of his sock. He laughed again. "How did it taste?"
"Nasty," Bill responded, as Larry placed both feet across his face. He couldn't move as all he saw was the dirty soles of his roommate's socked feet. He heard Larry laugh at his response.
"Anyway, I will be online for work for a while. May as well get comfortable, my footrest. It's going to be a long time. And try to be a quiet footrest." Larry added as he placed the headset over his head and communicated with other coworkers online.
Every sniff he took smelled like stale cheese and musk. He felt Larry apply more pressure on his face, making it impossible to move it. He was a literal footrest while his roommate worked. He did have to admit to himself, it gave him something to do and benefited Larry at the same time. Yet, smelling stinky socks or stinky feet for who knows how long wasn't a pleasant idea either. He even tried to lift his head, only to be forced back down by Larry's feet. He could only hope that someone would call him soon. Being stuck under Larry's desk every day wasn't going to be fun for him, he could already tell.
He had been on me for hours playing battlefield. Blasting farts on my mouth and laughing, chugging soda. He laid back deep as my nose slid farther in his dirty manhole as a wet warm stinky fart blasted over my face. I was bound, squirming, he didn’t wipe after shitting at the gym yesterday. He had a kill streak going as he wriggled his ass and bounced laughing. He liked it when his mic picked up the sound of his wet farts because his buddies kept laughing and sometimes farted back.
“Got something here for you faggot” he pulled his gym shorts down and rested his sweaty musky man nuts on my forehead. His asshole relaxed as he sighed. “So glad I can take a dump while I play, clean the rest of the house when I get done faggot”
When a guy begs and pays you to use them as a fart cushion only to realise it's not as good as they imagined. The smell actually makes them feel sick. The weight of your ass is hurting their face and nose. It's not as arousing as they thought it would be.
Oh well, he's got like 50mins left that he's paid for, and these farts have to go somewhere. Besides, it's not like you can hear his pleas from under your fat cheeks, and his moans are drowned out by each fart. How were you to know they were grabbing your ass for air and not just because they couldn't resist your peach, they're only human after all.
Thank you so much to everyone who sent me messages and support this past month; I'm incredibly grateful! Things have been difficult lately, but it's been a difficult year overall. I'm glad to be a part of such a caring community.
I had some motivation yesterday to write, so I threw together a self-contained one-shot with a bit of variety to it. It's a bit rushed, and not edited, but I wanted to give you guys something new to enjoy.
_
Spoilt Brat (SCAT)
Contains: farting, face-farting, mouth-farting, smegma, smegma eating, urination, piss-drinking, scat, scat-eating. Non-con. Mentions of vomit (non-explicit and non-fetishistic. It’s just there for realism).
When his mother remarried, Jordan was given the choice to either move in to the new house with her, his step-father and step-brother, or he could move into his own apartment. She had even offered to pay for the first six months of rent, so he wouldn’t need to be too stressed about finding work. She even promised to continuing paying half of it if he got into university. His mother had never been the most generous woman, so he found the offer strange. Suspicious, even. In hindsight, he should have known his mother wouldn’t do something like that without a good reason, but instead, he was curious. He decided to move with the rest of their blended family.
His mother had been trying to protect him.
Despite being the same age, his step-brother was extremely spoilt. The man—and, at nineteen, he was a man—got anything he wanted, when he wanted it. He didn’t even need to ask nicely. Jordan’s jaw hit the floor the first time he heard Xavier scream at his mother to buy him some nearly released video game. She did as she was told, promptly, and with a tight smile.
He asked her about it later, and she explained that her new husband’s only true flaw was his love for his son, so she had agreed to do whatever the selfish monster asked. It was necessary to keep the piece with her man. She offered, again, to get him an apartment, and told him that, if he stayed, he would be expected to appease Xavier as well. He was an adult now, she reminded him, and he had opportunities. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her love-life just so he could cling onto his childhood.
He stayed. He’d already turned his mother’s offer down twice, so accepting then would have felt like giving up.
Things were easy enough at first. They had separate rooms, and Xavier almost never showered, so they didn’t see each other often. He said nothing when his new brother stunk up the bathroom. He didn’t comment on his disgusting eating habits, or his bad breath, or his rotten teeth. He held his tongue every time the bastard called his mother a bitch. When he walked into the living room to see his mother on her knees, holding an empty bottle to the end of Xavier’s swollen, infected penis, so he could empty his bladder without pausing his video game, he just shook his head and walked back out.
His opinions of both his mother and his new step-dad—who’d seemed like a nice enough guy when they’d met—were steadily dropping, but the house wasn’t unliveable.
That began to change.
His mother stopped him in the hall with an empty bottle and an apologetic smile.
‘I’m about to leave for work,’ she said, ‘and your brother is having another gaming marathon. I need you to help take care of his bathroom needs.’
‘Excuse me?’ Jordan asked, dumbfounded.
‘We had an agreement,’ she snapped, ‘if you want to continue living here, you need to keep that little freak happy. I know it’s disgusting, but this is what you agreed to, so do it.’
Repulsed, but also feeling like he’d been put in his place, he took the bottle and headed to the living room.
Xavier was a chubby young man with acne on his face and thick, dark, sweat-slicked hair smattering most of his body. Out of school and unemployed, he spent each day on the living room couch in nothing but his headset, damp socks and stained boxer briefs. When he spotted Jordan, he didn’t pause in the tirade of jargon and slurs he was spewing into the microphone, instead pointing emphatically at the floor in front of him.
Jordan kneeled down, just like he’d seen his mother do, and opened the bottle.
Xavier pulled out his dick, but didn’t aim it. He needed both hands on his controller, so it was obvious he expected Jordan to do all the necessary manoeuvring. Jordan almost gagged at the sight of the thick, smegma-covered cock. The bitter, ammonia stench alone could make one see stars, but he fought through it. He grabbed the filthy cock with the tips of his fingers and positioned the bottle against the yellowed slit.
Immediately, a strong, dark stream began. Xavier grunted, seemingly straining to empty his bladder faster, and a series of wet pops followed. The pops turned into a deep rumble.
The odour was eggy and rotten, like something left marinating in a metal garbage can in the Summer. Jordan, overwhelmed by such a vile stench so close to his face, coughed.
‘Shut up!’ Xavier snapped, thumping him in the head with the Xbox controller. The hit propelled him forward, against a large, sweaty lap.
The piss-stream was fortunately over by that point, having filled two-thirds of the bottle, so there was no mess. That didn’t mean Jordan was happy to have face-planted on the shaft of an unwashed, bacteria-ridden dick. To make matters worse, Xavier immediately rested his arms on the back of Jordan’s head, trapping him there.
The smell was stronger, and within seconds he could feel the other man’s sweat sticking to his face, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t want to cause trouble for his mother, after she’d warned him. Along with that, his hands were busy fumbling for the lid so he could secure to piss-bottle without spilling any, so pushing himself up wasn’t possible. And, finally, Xavier was bigger than him. He was bigger than him, in both height and mass. Even if Jordan had both his hands free, and didn’t care about protecting his mother’s feelings, he would still be at least a little scared of getting his ass kicked.
The pressure on his skull forced his head lower, until his face was squished between two meaty thighs, the yellow and red head of the never-washed penis against the tip of his nose. He couldn’t breathe. Well, technically, he could, but by Gods, who would want to? Every small, gasping breath was filled with the odour of sweat, ass and dick cheese. The air was hot, and damp, and suffocating. He wasn’t lucky enough to suffocate, though. He was forced to endure.
After around five minutes trapped between the sweat mounds, Xavier began to shift. He leant back and lifted his thighs, putting his knees up and his dirty feet on the couch. Jordan thought he was free. He wasn’t.
Although Jordan’s head was no longer trapped by Xavier’s thighs, there was still a hand on the back of his head, keeping him in place, and Xavier’s other hand was working down the waistband of his briefs.
He came face-to-face with a new hell in the form of his step-brother’s hairy asshole, a mere centimetre away from his nose. It reeked of stale shit and fresh farts, and through the plump, hair-covered cheeks, he could see the dark hole twitching. The hand that had been working to tuck his waistband under his balls rejoined the other, and together they pulled him forward.
It was at this point Jordan realised that he couldn’t hear the video game anymore. Apparently, Xavier considered forcing his brother’s face between his sweaty cheeks to be more entertaining.
‘No, please,’ he begged. His hands dug into the carpet as he tried to pull himself back. He could feel the heat radiating off the slimy skin—feel the hairs tickling his nose—but he fought to maintain those final few millimetres.
‘Shut up and get your face in there.’
‘Why?!’ he demanded. Why would anyone want to do that?
‘I haven’t farted on anyone’s face since high school, and I need it to have a good wank. Dad said to be nice to you and I was, but now I’m pent up and if you don’t do what I tell you to, I’ll tell my dad. He doesn’t let anyone say no to me.’
‘And what’ll your dad do, kick me out? I don’t want to stay here after this!’
‘He’ll hold you down for me. Do what I tell you, or I’ll force you to do it, and I’ll make your mum watch.’
That was it. Those were his two options. Jordan stopped fighting. The hot flesh moulded around his face, the course pubes scratching his cheeks, until puckered muscle touched his nose. His head was forcibly tilted back, pressing his nostrils to the hole instead, and he really couldn’t breathe. His mouth was blocked by a fat ass cheek, and his nostrils were so flush to the anus he could barely suck in any air. Then, it started.
Noxious bubbles shot straight up his nose, and he sucked them down. His only source of air. They burnt his airways and his chest, and reeked like something had died and then had its corpse decompose in shit, but he couldn’t even cough. An onslaught of wet farts filled his lungs until his skull may as well have been on fire. One of the hands left his hair and a mixture of moans and slapping flesh joined the cacophony of bowel noise. The remaining hand tugged his hair, but he was too light-headed to fight it. This was a mistake, he realised too late, when parted, gasping lips were filled with ass pubes. A silent fart hit his tongue like a spray of boiling water, painful and indescribably revolting. His eyes filled with tears. His cheeks bulged from the pressure as a stream of gas filled his mouth, the taste somehow even worse than the smell.
Finally, he was pulled back. His mouth hung open, and he was so grateful to be allowed to fill it with clean air that he didn’t even notice the ropes of jizz hitting his tongue. He’d tasted his own before, so it was a familiar flavour, but what wasn’t familiar was the sticky crust being spread along his bottom lip, like a balm.
He came down from his oxygen high to Xavier rubbing the head of his cock against his bottom lip, painting it with dick-cheese.
He pulled away and threw up.
Xavier laughed.
He cleaned up the vomit while the other man went back to his video game, and neither said anything to the other for the rest of the day.
__
After that, things were so normal that Jordan was able to pretend nothing happened.
Or, at least he could for two days, until his step-father came into his room one afternoon to tell him Xavier needed his help with something in the bathroom.
The smell nearly bowled him over.
Xavier was sat on the toilet, clearly in the middle of emptying his bowels, with a rock-hard erection.
‘Shut the door and get on your knees,’ he ordered.
‘What? No!’
‘Do it or I’ll make your mum do. Even if she says no, dad’ll make her.’
The thought of his mother being forced to do something sexual for someone to repulsive broke something in Jordan. She wouldn’t have to degrade herself like that. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Once he was in place in front of the toilet, Xavier began slowly stroking his cock.
‘I’ve got a date with some chick I met online. You gotta lick this thing clean for me in case she wants action.’
‘She won’t.’
Xavier grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him forwards until the head was against his closed mouth. ‘Just for that, you can wipe my ass, too.’
He opened his mouth, shut his eyes, and tried to pretend he was somewhere else as Xavier pushed in. Somewhere without food, so he wouldn’t need to think about his tastebuds, or worry about throwing up. Maybe space?
The hard crust dissolved in his saliva, turning into slimy clumps with a taste between aged cheese and concentrated piss. He gagged, but Xavier wouldn’t let him pull away to spit. Thinking about his mother, and how much he didn’t want her to have to go through this, he swallowed. He swallowed the rancid cum that came after, as well. Unlike the first time, he was very aware of what he was tasting, and the sound of shit hitting water that followed, as Xavier’s muscles relaxed, made it even harder to tune out.
He wasn’t even surprised when Xavier decided to empty his bladder into his mouth. Compared to what preceded, it was almost welcome.
When it came time to wipe, Xavier insisted Jordan stay kneeling, and he bent over the adjacent counter. The crack, along with the inner half of each cheek, was painted brown with foamy diarrhea. It was thick and hot, even through the toilet paper. The odour made his vision shake and the edges darken, like he might pass out. He didn’t.
‘I’m done,’ he said, trying not to let the relief show.
‘Good.’ Xavier grabbed a handful of each of his cheeks and spreads them, wafting more of the rotten stench out. Though not visibly filthy, they still made a wet sound as they separated, like peeling off a soggy shirt. ‘Then, lick it.’
‘What?’
‘Give it a lick, so I know it’s clean.’
‘It’s not clean, though! If you want to be clean then you need to take a fucking shower!’
‘Lick my asshole or your mum will. Simple.’
He swallowed down a sob and pressed his tongue right to the inflamed hole. The hot muscle throbbed. The acid burnt his tongue, but did nothing to cover the foul flavour. Grit caught on his tongue as he dragged it upwards, and migrated into his mouth.
He threw up, right on top of Xavier’s unflushed shit.
‘So close, try again.’ The bastard laughed. ‘Slower, this time. I want to really feel you.’
Jordan licked again, slower. He was moving on autopilot. The situation was too horrible to properly register.
As his tongue flattered fully against the hole, a cheek slapped him and a hand gripped his hair, pulling him in until his mouth suctioned around the muscle. It protruded, and Jordan squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for a noxious, post-shit fart.
What he got was a mouth full of watery shit as Xavier sprays a final bout of diarrhea straight onto his tongue. It was agony. He clawed, and shoved, and fought, but the man above him just snorted and pushed out more.
Once free, he launched himself towards the toilet bowl, planning to spit and then throw up, but Xavier caught him. He clamped one hand over Jordan’s mouth and used the other to massage his throat. He tried to fight the sensation, but his instincts won out. He swallowed.
He vomited.
‘We’re going to have to practice that,’ Xavier said, pulling up his pants. ‘I’ve always wanted a human toilet, but dad said if I did that to kids at school we’d get sued. This is good, but it’d be better if you didn’t need the real toilet right after. I could use you on road trips.’
Jordan didn’t have the energy to argue.
His mother was working that night, but planned to talk to her first thing the next morning about moving out.
__
Jordan was dozing in the bath.
He’d washed his mouth out with hand soap, brushed his teeth, showered, and now he was having a bath. He still didn’t feel clean, but all scrubbing after all that horror had tired him out.
The bathroom door flew open. He nearly jumped out of his skin.
‘You fucking jinxed it!’ Xavier yelled, towering over him with his brows drawn and a dangerous look in his eyes. ‘The bitch said a smelt like shit, and it’s your fault, jackass! You fucking jinxed it!’
‘She said that because it’s true!’ Jordan yelled back, climbing to his knees and reaching for his towel. Before he could reach it, his step-father grabbed his arm, then quick as lightning he had both of them behind his back. Something—a belt? Rope?—secured his wrists.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked as the older man moved down the tub and began work on his ankles, too. He nearly slid under the water, until firm hands righted him again. His ankles were tied with a chequered dish towel.
‘I didn’t use anything harsher because I don’t want to leave bruises—they’d worry your mother. I have to do something, though, because my boy is mad and you need to make it right.’
‘I didn’t do anything!’
His step-father, a burly man with grey hair, shook his head. ‘I don’t care what did or didn’t happen, I don’t like seeing my boy upset. You can take your punishment like a man or you can take it like a pussy, but either way it’s going to happen.’
‘What’s the punishment?’
Xavier lowered his fly and, without a word, started pissing into the bath water.
The heat amplified the stench until Jordan was choking on it. This was only made worse when a second stream hit his face, then was redirected to his chest.
The water turned a pale yellow.
‘Now, for the main course!’ Xavier announced, dropping his pants completely and sitting with his huge, hairy ass over the edge of the tub, in line with Jordan’s own crotch. ‘I had a big dinner, so hopefully my gut has filled back up.’
‘Don’t worry, son, I took a fast-acting laxative.’
His step-father sat as high up the rim of the tub as he could, putting his ass over Jordan’s chest.
He heard the sputtering farts followed by the feel of scorching heat on his thighs and dick as Xavier unloaded. The sound was like a waterfall, and the stench was like crawling through a sewer, in Summer, while everyone in the city had food poisoning. The water around his shoulders turned brown.
He saw, close-up, as the older man’s hole opened and a thick log poked out. Xavier’s onslaught was still going as the log got longer and longer, curling on Jordan’s collarbone, until it finally broke off.
He cried. Desperate, pleading sobs as his airways burnt and his skin tingled from the diluted stomach acid. Both men ignored him and continued using his bath as a toilet.
After a few more logs met the first, the older man’s bowels became wetter. The turds turned sloppy, and he grabbed a face cloth, which he held underneath himself to catch a handful of the still partially-solid shit.
Jordan didn’t have time to wonder what that had been about, because soon the man was leaning to the side, pulling up a cheek, and spraying diarrhea into Jordan’s face. His anus was maybe 2-3 inches from his target, so his step-son was quickly coated.
Being so close, turning his head away made little difference, and without his hands to wipe his lips, it was impossible to open his mouth to breathe without tasting it. His nose, now clogged with excrement, was a lost cause.
This went on for at least half an hour, with both men’s bowels getting looser by the minute, until they finally deemed them empty.
They wiped their asses using his plush, white towel.
‘Jordan, hey!’ his stepfather said, snapping his fingers to get his attention.
He turned his head towards the sound, then something thick slid down his forehead and he was forced to close his eyes. He didn’t want an infection. He was still sobbing, drool mixing with shit on his chin.
‘You’re the toilet for the rest of the night, and that’s a full-time job, so I better not catch you sleeping in here.’
‘Here?’ he muttered. Wasn’t it over?
‘That’s right, you’re sleeping in the bathtub tonight. Don’t worry, I doubt that laxative is through with me, so that should keep the bath water from getting too cold.’
Cold water was not among his list of concerns.
‘There’s one last thing before we leave you. The final part of your punishment.’
Something soft was pushed between his lips. The face cloth, filled with soft shit, was forced into his mouth. It moulded around his teeth, wet shit seeping out onto his tongue. Before he could spit it out, a belt was secured around his head.
When my son Jim started having trouble with one of the guys who went to the same university gym as him, I'd told him that the best way to beat a bully was to face them head-on. As my son liked to wrestle, he decided to follow my advice by challenging his bully to a wrestling match. He was still a bit nervous about facing his tormentor, so he asked me to come along to offer him moral support. I was thrilled that Jim was willing to be a man and stand up for himself, so I eagerly accepted my son's invitation.
It turns out that Jim's bully also liked to wrestle. And he's a lot better at it than my son is. From the moment their match started, Jim had been utterly dominated by his rival. He was repeatedly pinned and forced to submit by his bully, who took great pleasure in putting Jim into humiliating holds, especially once he realised that his victim's father was watching the whole thing.
All I could do was stand there impotently as my son was thoroughly put in his place by his superior opponent.
I couldn't even turn away as Jim's bully further tormented him by sitting on his face while asking my son if he liked the smell of a real alpha male. As he did so, my son's bully was looking directly at me, enjoying my humiliation just as much as he was enjoying my son's.
As I continued to watch, a man roughly my age walked up beside me. "Is that your boy getting a mouthful of my son's arse?" He said with a breathy chuckle.
As I reluctantly nodded in acknowledgement, he grinned. "My boy always comes out on top; it's no surprise he reduced yours to a pathetic bitch." He said, gesturing to his son, who was still smirking at me, and my son, whose muffled yells could barely be heard through the fat arse covering his face.
"Why don't we go for a round in the ring ourselves? See if you're just like your boy, as I'm definitely like mine." The man beside me said with a cocky grin as we watched his son bounce his arse on my son's face.
I'd taught my son that real men never back down from a challenge, so I couldn't refuse to live up to those ideals now, even though I was almost certain I'd be sharing my son's fate in the ring.
At least my son had stopped yelling into his opponent's arse. In fact, if the slowly growing tent in his tight, white underwear was any indication, he'd actually started to enjoy his current position.
I'd like to think that I wouldn't respond the same way when I was the one pinned beneath an alpha male's fat arse. But considering that my cock was already starting to chub up at just the idea of the man who challenged me forcefully smothering me with his arse cheeks, I know that wasn't true.
When your gym crush invited you to a party he was throwing that evening you were ecstatic. You weren't even able toplay it cool, instead eagerly accepting.
He smiled at your enthusiasm and told you to be there for 19:00, and gave you his address.
Not only were you going to get to spend time with the guy you would secretly check out, but he said it was going to be attended by other guys from the gym so you figured it'd be a good chance to befriend them. Maybe get some tips on how they got in such greatshape.
*
You rocked up on time, you thought of being fashionably late after seeming too eager earlier. Butdidn't want to risk looking rude,
He opened the door with a smile when he saw itwas you
"Great you're here, come on in"
You entered his home, trying to make friendlyconversation as you kicked off your shoes. Listeningout you couldn't hear any music or any chatter.
"Am I the first to arrive?" It'd be a bit awkward, but at least you could meet each person as they came.
"Yeh, needed to get you in position before myguests arrived".
You paused, confused. "I'm sorry, what do you mean get me in position...and you mean 'other'guests?""
"What? No, mate. This is for my mates at the gym, you know, real builders. Not little guys like you. I mean other than you perving on me we have like no interaction. I invited you here to do us a service."
The amount of revelation stunned you. The admission he knew you oggled him, on top of the insults.
"What service?"
"Here let me show you".
He opened the door to a cupboard under the stairs,and gestured for you to take a look. Leaning in you could see that inside was a large cut out space. Big enough to stand on the end nearest the door, and on the other end, space to sit/kneel. What was more concerning was on the low end there was what looked to be a collar chained to the wall.
It was at this moment you were very aware of the muscular man stood behind you. Blocking your exit.A man you knew nothing about and willingly had entered his home.
"See we get together a lot and we learned early that when you get a lot of gym bros together there's a rather unpleasant smely issue. You know what it's like with all that protein. Wrecks havock on our guts and the farts are toxic. You can only hold them in for so long before it becomes uncomfortable. So for everyone to be able to party in comfort, but not stink out the place, we came up with a solution. The Fart Room".
Using his imposing size he started to push you into the cupboard.
We get some eager little guy from the gym, invite them round and put them in here. As the night goes on people need to use this room more and more.Y'know, the build up of protein shakes, broccoli and chicken diets and the beers at the party. They come in, let rip, and that nights recruit sniffs it all up".
By now you're fully in the room, being slowly pushed further back. You had to start crouching to avoid the ceiling.
"That's sick! Just go outside".
He rolled his eyes, annoyed at you wasting time. It's cold outside, can't keep opening doors to fart, everyone would freeze. Come the summer, we're all out there and don't want the wind blowing our wind back at us. This solution works all year round"
"Then just fart in here without a victim!" At this point your head smacked into the ceiling, the pain forcing you to drop down to your knees, where he loomed over you.
"Sorry, can't. The smell builds up and by the end we stink when we leave having marinated in it, and the gas escapes when you open the door. That's where you come in. You'll breathe it all up. It's better if you take it right from the source, to avoid it lingering. Best you do a good job from the start as well; as we get more drunk, we get a bit more aggressive with making sure we don't smell it; and will force your face in our cracks. He leaned down, reaching past you and picked up the collar.
"Sometimes people arent willing or try to escape. That's where this comes in". He held the collar to your face. "Will you need it? Or are you one of those fags that get off on this?"
"Please, l just want to go home".
"I don't care. Look, alone I can overpower you and chain you up. If you make me do that, l'l tell each guy to not go easy on you, and they 'll be rough. We're talking aggressively roided up blokes only too happy to let off some steam. Once the lock goes on you'll be at their mercy. So I would suggest you choose this". With that he unbuckled the collar and without protest put it tight around your neck.
"That's a good little fart filter. Now let's practice before the party starts".
He stands up, turns around, and lowers his shorts revealing his large muscular cheeks. Immediately you're hit with a sour pungent smell. Clearly if he did shower after the gym that day, he skipped cleaning his ass. Gently pivoting his hips his ass jutted out, inches from your face. Inviting you to come closer. You leaned in and as you felt his warm skin you were hit by the first fart.
BBBBBMMMMFFFF
It was quick, but loud and deep. The smell was as bad as he'd warned. You could smell the veggies he'd been eating. The surprise and stink made you instinctively pull away. Causing you to hit your head again in the tight space you were crouched in.
"Best get used to it, or if you keep flinching like that you'll leave here with brain damage. Though then again, maybe wouldn't be a bad thing, hit your head enough maybe you'll get amnesia and this can become a permanent set up. Would faggy like that?" He laughed as he wriggled his ass in front of you.
You didn't answer, so to fill the silence he let out a long rip.
BBBBBBBRRRRRRPPPPPPP
"Sniff that up, quickly, I'm getting a hint of it up here"
To avoid any repercussions you leant back forward and sniffed the air vigorously. Reaching as far as the tight chain would allow you to reach, the collar strangling you for the effort.
"That's better, I think you get your job. Oh, and you may have wondered about the towel hanging here. Well, sometimes the farts get a bit. ..wet. We try not to judge each other, these supplements can do all sorts to your body. So if a guy sharts a bit, just wait until he's finished and when he's gone wipe your face ready for the next visitor"
As if knowing you were about to try one more time to object and plead to be released, he let out a final fart into your open mouth. As you coughed and spluttered, trying not to focus on the taste on your tongue, there was a knock at the door.
"Hold on guys, my bitch just got here. I'll be back in 10 after I give her a couple things to do," he said, logging out of the match. They thought he meant his girlfriend, but he meant you, his roommate.
It had all started when you made the stupid decision to tell him to clean up after himself, after weeks of cleaning up after his dishes, finding his laundry all over, and him leaving condoms in the bathroom trash. That was the day your life changed. He'd laughed at you, saying he was a man, this was his house and he'd do whatever he wanted. That pissed you off. You'd stepped up to him asking what that was supposed to mean, tossing some of his dirty laundry in his face. You were a man too, you yelled, and you weren't going to spend the rest of your life cleaning up after him.
Well boy, did he prove you wrong.
He'd grabbed a pair of underwear you'd thrown at him and put it over your head, holding it tightly. You struggled, but he was bigger than you, and the next thing you knew you were in a chokehold, his thick bicep holding the elastic around your neck. You gasped for air, but every gasp pulled the scent of his dirty underwear, of his ballsweat and dried cum into your lungs. You wanted to stop, but you needed air-he'd let go just long enough for you to get a whiff of his musk before tightening back up, forcing you to hold it in your lungs. Your eyes rolled back and you fell to the ground, but through it all, you noticed your cock was... hard. Really hard. He noticed too, laughing dumbly. He'd held it there until his scent was fully a part of you, making you his total slave. Making you beg to clean up after him.
Your relationship got a lot better after that. Instead of dreading him being home, you waited eagerly, making sure dinner was ready for him in the meantime. You loved doing his laundry now too, following him around and picking up his sweaty gym clothes. You'd give each a long inhale, taking in the scent of his ballsweat or dried cum or, if you were lucky, both, before washing and folding them for him. You'd usually keep one or two for yourself, laying it on your face as you fell asleep, letting his scent soak into you all night. It was just household things at first, but one night while you were feeding him while he gamed with his friends, you found yourself staring at his foot. Not just at how big his size 13s were... but how thick and meaty they were, too. How perfectly rounded his toes were. You stared and stared until you found yourself crawling over to it, pressing your face into it, sniffing it and nuzzling against it and flicking your tongue out over it.
He looked down at you grinning as you worshipped it. He'd known you'd submit more and more as time went on, but hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. His cock got hard watching you turn from who you'd been into his little slut, his little house servant. He knew he had total control over you now. It was a great feeling being an alpha, knowing he could break another man so easily, overpower them and turn them into his desperate bitchboy. That's exactly what you were as you licked and kissed all over his huge feet. It tasted salty from his sweat, different from his underwear though but just as addictive- but it wasn't really that that kept you going. It was the simple fact that he was a man and you were his bitch. Your purpose was to obey and serve, now. That was what brought you pleasure. He'd sat back and let you worship thwm for hours till you both fell asleep with his feet still pressed against your face.
It became a regular part of your routine after that. He'd come in and start eating the dinner you'd prepared and you'd slide yourself under the table, taking his shoes off and worshipping his sweaty, hot feet after a long day while he ate. Then you'd bring him a fresh outfit and change him out of his sweaty gym clothes, sniffing each deeply. It was all you looked forward to now.
On nights when he was home before you, you'd usually get home and find him like this- gaming with his friends. You'd just take cues from him- if he gripped his junk, that was a sign he wanted a blowjob. If he lifted his foot, you slid under it, licking and sucking away while he gamed. If he paused, like he did now, that meant he had some chores for you. He stared down at you and lifted his foot. You smiled, sliding yourself under it, beginning your worship.
"So bitchboy," he said as you crawled to hit floor, kissing the top of his foot and nuzzling your face against it, feeling the little gold hairs all over it. "I have some interviews this week, so I need my dress clothes ironed. You don't mind taking care of that for me, do you?
"Of course not, King," you said in between kisses while your free hand rubbed and massaged his muscular, hairy legs.
"Love when you call me that, bitch," he said, rubbing his foot against you a little harder.
"Just acknowledging who's in charge, sir. Acknowledging your position over mine," you said, taking his beefy big toe into your mouth and sucking on it. They always tasted best when you first started- you savored the taste, running your tongue over it slowly with your eyes closed.
"Thats right, bitch. Next you're gonna go clean my piss off the toilet seat, haha. I was too hungover to turn the lights on this morning and kinda missed.
"Yes, King," you said, licking his foot top to bottom.
"Damn fag. I forget how pathetic you are sometimes. Doesn't that bother you? Remember when it used to piss you off, haha, pun intended."
"No, sir. I want to clean up after you forever. Alphas don't have to worry about that stuff. That's what I'm here for."
"Thats right bitch," he said, lifting his foot and rubbing it against your face, hard. You rubbed back just as hard, gasping for air when he pulled away. It felt amazing. You loved his feet. Loved being under them. Something about them just brought out something feral in you. "Go get me a beer, bitch."
You did as he said, getting him one of the cold 6 packs you'd had ready for him, cracking one open and handing it to him. He chugged it in one gulp. You handed him the next. He sipped this one more slowly, sitting back, relaxed, legs spread wide. His head tilted down. You knew your cue- you crawled between his legs. rubbing your face into his shorts. They smelled amazing- his sweaty dick and balls had soaked them through. You felt his thick, meaty cock gertting harder and harder as he sipped his beer with one hand and pressed your face into it with the other until its hard outline was clearly visible. You pulled his pants down, smiling at his huge cock as it popped out of his underwear, kissing up and down his shaft and rubbing against his pubes. His big thighs closed on you, trapping you against his dick. He laughed dumbly as you barely noticed. You were too preoccpied with that dick, so big, so powerful, so hypnotizing.
He crushed up the next beer can and opened his third. His strong hand gripped your hair, pulling you up. You mouth opened reflexively as he lowered your head onto his cock, sliding you all the way down it. You gagged ad choked but that didn't matter. What mattered was serving him. What mattered was taking as much of his cock into you as you could. He lowered your head up and down it slowly. You looked up at him and he was staring down at you superiorly. He was so beautiful. He took another long sip of his beer, but never took his eyes off you as you licked his cock up and down. He crushed the can up and started his fourth. This was how you always did things. You'd stop when he finished his six pack.
On the fifth beer, he lowered you onto his balls. You slurped on them slowly, encouraged by his moans. He went back to playing his game while he enjoyed the fifth beer and you sucked away on his nuts, muting his mic whenever he needed to let out a long moan. You were getting a little fevered now, hot from the heat pulsing off his massive thighs and big bull balls. You had no idea how much time passed- you were lost in him, in his hot musk.
Some time after you heard him crushing up the six can, his hand gripped the back of your head again and forced it back down on his cock. You heard him crush the can and toss it in the corner with the other five, then forced your head back down on his cock as he muted he mic and shuddered, letting out a long "aaaaaahhhhhhhh". His dick and balls bulged and his hot cum started pumping down your throat. He forced you all the way down his cock, but the wasn't necesarry- you were greedily sucking out every drop of it, desperate for more. His cu made you kind of crazy, made you thirst for it over and over again, sinking you deeper with every load you swallowed.
After about a minute when you were nice and full of all the seed he'd pumped into you, he pulled you off and let your head go. It fell to the floor but you barely noticed. Your were dazed, eyes unfocused and hazy. He teased your lips with his big toe and your mouth opened automatically, taking it in and sucking on it again.
"Damn, man. Don't you love being roommates?" he said with a laugh.
This story is completely fictional, is for 18+, and includes fetish and kink material, such as fart sniffing, ass worship, master/slave play, and manly musk. If any of this is an issue with you, do NOT continue. Otherwise, enjoy!
This is an old story that I wrote, inspired by a similar fetish one I read years ago. Again, I have to warn you guys; this is another gross look into my perverted mind, and if the idea of being forced to sniff farts grosses you out, don’t read this filth! But if this filth excites you, then do continue, my fellow stink pig.
...
~3.4 words
Guy makes a new friend at the gym and invites him to go camping. But this friend has his own agenda...
...
It was three in the afternoon; I sat in my grey seat at my grey desk under grey fluorescent lighting. I was tapping my pen against my grey desk. I even wore a grey shirt. But I was smiling.
It was the first Friday of May, and after 5 o’clock my vacation would begin. Every year I get 10 vacation days, and I make sure to save them up so I can use them all in spring. There’s a campsite I like to go to; no wifi, no neighbors, no stupid coworkers, no annoying parents, just me in the forest. I was staring at the clock at the corner of the screen. It took forever for the numbers to roll by.
Never mind, it won’t be just me this year. I have to bring Cliff along. I ran into Cliff one morning at the gym; he asked me to spot him while he did his bench presses. I didn’t like going to the gym, I’m the kind of guy who only goes so he could get away with eating junk food. But Cliff was one of those guys who lived at the gym. He was taller than me, and bigger than me; all muscle. He looked like the kind of guy who could squeeze your head just by flexing against you. He had short brown hair, stubble, and of course a much better body than I could ever dream of having. But for some reason, he started chatting with me a few weeks ago, and we accidentally became gym partners. He’s even been helping me bulk up a bit. I’m still kind of a wimp, but now I’m toned and can look in the mirror, easily imagining myself walking up to the hot girl at the bar.
But when I told him I was going away camping for two weeks, he insisted on coming along. Cliff’s a cool guy, don’t get me wrong, but these camping trips were always my thing; my alone time. I tried to be nice and talk him out of it, but he invited himself to come along anyway. Once he set his mind on something, it was happening, I’d slowly begin to learn. But he seems like a cool guy, and he’s great to hang out and work out with, so I didn’t want to hurt his feelings [Mom did say I’m too soft for my own good]. Sure, camping’s my thing, but maybe it’ll be fun to have a friend tag along. To dudes just hanging out, drinking beers, fishing…it’ll be fun.
…
I’d been driving upstate for an hour, Cliff was in the passenger seat. I could smell his pits’ BO from all the way over here. And I’m sure that I caught a faint whiff of his ball funk. After keeping my mouth shut for so long, and gagging though the past hour, I had to say something. “No offence, but man, you reek!”
“Today was my day off,” He shrugged, “So I spent more time working out.”
I grimaced, “You didn’t shower dude?”
“Haha, no, sorry” He lifted his arm and sniffed his pit, “Pew! Didn’t know I stunk this bad! I’ll haveta wash off in the lake.”
“Yeah, you fucking better,” I laughed. Today was his day off…? And he was taking the next two weeks off? “What do you do, exactly?” I realized I’d never asked.
I glanced over and saw a sly smirk across his face, “Specialty services.”
I guess he was just a private guy; keep things to himself. Maybe we’ll open up a bit to each other during these next two weeks.
He rustled open his backpack, “Mind if I eat in the car? I didn’t grab lunch.”
“No problem, I could stop somewhere for dinner,” I looked around, “There might be an oasis or something I could go to the drive through.”
“That’s alright,” He pulled out a sandwich, “I got food.” He opened the bag and the queasy smell of eggs hit me.
“Ugh, what is that?!” I coughed.
“Egg salad.” He laughed, “Tastes great, it’s good for me. But it gives me the worst gas.” He kept laughing.
“Gross,” I laughed too, but he seemed to be cackling, and for longer than I could fake it. Laughing this hard at a fart joke? How old is this guy?
“Sorry dude, hope you don’t mind I’ll be pretty gassy later.”
“We’ve each got our own tents.” My smile faded a bit. I hoped he wouldn’t be this annoying when we got to the camp.
It was getting late, and I saw a gas station marked up ahead.
“Hey, speaking of gas, I need to fill the tank real quick.” I got off the highway and pulled into the station. The place seemed empty. I pulled up to a pump near the street so I could get back on the road quickly. I got out the car and walked over to the pump. I saw Cliff was looking for something in his bag. He lowered the window, “Hey dude, do you mind picking up a dozen fiber one bars? I’ll pay you back.”
I shrugged, “Sure.” I walked across the lot and into the station, grabbed the bars, paid the cashier, and walked back out. I got to the car and opened the door to push the gas cap lever, but Cliff wasn’t in his seat.
I stood up and looked around, but couldn’t see him. Did he go to the bathroom? “Cliff?” I called out.
Everything went black. I felt some kind of sheet go over my head and torso. Before I could react, I was pushed forward against the car and I hit my head hard. The pain shot through my skull and I lost my train of thought. I felt my arms get tied behind my back. My survival instincts kicked in and I started thrashing, but then I felt a swift kick against the back of my knee. The pain was so great my leg collapsed under me. Before I hit the ground, I felt a sharp pinch in my neck, like a bug bite. Then I felt my limbs go limp. I was picked up and dragged. My head was hurting like crazy, and I couldn’t move my arms, and I felt myself being stuffed into the trunk of my car. I was getting dizzy. Oh fuck, what’s happening to me?!
…
“Wakey wakey, faggot!” I heard Cliff’s voice spit down at me. I opened my eyes, which felt as dry as my throat. Cliff?! What the fuck was going on? I couldn’t speak, and I realized I couldn’t move. My arms were bound behind me, and my legs were also tied up. I couldn’t turn my head to see where I was.
“What the FUCK is going on?!” My voice cracked.
His nostrils were flaring and he brought his arm up in a fist. I winced and let out a small moan. He started laughing with an evil grin.
“P-Please,” I was ashamed to cry but I couldn’t help myself, “Please don’t hurt me!”
He stood up. From this angle, he looked like a giant. And I noticed that he only wore his muscle shirt from earlier. Otherwise, he was naked: no pants, no underwear, just his large cock and balls hanging freely in my line of vision. In his hand he held a dirty sock and a roll of duck tape.
“I know you want this cock real bad,” He grabbed it, “All the faggots do, but none of them get it. You don’t deserve to taste a real man’s meat.”
What the fuck is going on? I’m not even gay, what the fuck?!
Before I could say anything, I felt him give a quick stiff kick straight to my balls. I screamed out from the blinding pain, and while my mouth was open, he stuffed the sock into it. I started gagging on the taste; pure foot sweat, but I couldn’t spit it out before sticking a strip of tape on me. I could only breath through my nose.
“You can’t see yourself right now,” He had his hands on his hips, “but I’ve made a nice little set up for you. You’re tied down in my special recliner; your body’s sticking out under the front, and your face is just poking through the hole in the seat.”
What? I’m tied up in a chair? What the fuck is going on?! My head was spinning from the pain.
Then, he turned around. His giant ass was facing me, the top cut off by the bottom of his shirt. Like I said, he was a gym rat, and his butt cheeks were like two giant globes. They were covered in brown hair, which got thicker and thicker near the crack. I could smell his disgusting unwashed sweat from here…locker room ass…with a faint ball sweat lingering in the background.
It seemed to get bigger. My eyes widened; he was about to sit on my face! I was crying out; my voice muffled by the sock, but then his cheeks spread apart and I saw the thick jungle of ass crack hair that swirled around his puckered pink hole. He rested down on my face. Everything went dark.
The smell was abhorrent. Thick, hot, ass funk was all I could smell. And I felt him move around a bit until the tip of my nose was poking up the ring of his asshole. I was gagging, from the ass sweat that was sticky onto my face, from the taste of the old sock…I started to sweat from his body’s heat and the heat of this place. Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?!
“You wouldn’t believe how happy I was,” His voice boomed above me, “When I heard you were going camping near these parts. See, I come up here all the time.” He leaned back and somehow I felt my face dig deeper into his ass crack. I started screaming as loud as I could, even though my mouth was taped shut.
Then, he screamed, “SCREAM ALL YOU WANT, FAGGOT!!!” My heart jumped, he continued, his voice lowered a bit, “Because we are in the MIDDLE of NOWHERE!!! And NO ONE is going to look for you for the next TWO WEEKS!!!”
I felt tears come to my eyes again. The stench of his ass was burning my nose, and I could barely breath. There was no air down here; only ass fumes.
He continued, “Earlier, you asked me what I did for a living? This is what I do. Faggots pay to worship me. Some wanna lick my pits, some wanna drink my piss, some want me to step on them…fuck some just wanna serve me grapes. Like Julius Fucking Caesar. Think of all the faggots that wish they could serve a real man like me. Making them pay for these privileges is my way of helping out the community. But all of them, my favorite part, pay me to sit on their pathetic faces. I could tell you were one of them moment I saw you. I don’t care if you think you’re not a faggot, but you are. I can easily tell a faggot in denial. Don’t worry; I’m here to help you realize your true place in life. For the next two weeks, you’ll get to enjoy being stuffed nose first up my ass.”
This can’t be happening to me! This was too disgusting!! I tried to fight against my restraints, or at least move my face out of his ass crack, but I was completely trapped.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I heard him turn the TV on, “In my cabin, you’ll be spending all of your time in my ass. Think of it like…I’m the king, and you’re my throne. Sure, you think you hate it now, but I know for a fact that by the end of this week, you’ll be begging me to fart down your throat while you make out with my asshole. Begging me. All the faggots I find end up doing that.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This guy was a psychopath and a rapist. I didn’t care how much he hurt me; there was no way I would stoop so low that I would to something as humiliating as that.
“Speaking of farts; I get gassy a lot. And my farts smell god-awful. And I’m sick of smelling them. The only reason I even talk to faggots like you is because I know that your kind would give anything to smell them for me. So, that’s gonna your job this weekend: you are gonna sniff up every single fart I rip. And you better do a good job, because I do NOT wanna even get a hint of my own gas. Don’t make me warn you more than once, faggot.”
Without warning, he grunted and I felt his naked asshole press against the tip of my nose, and a giant eggy fart erupted out of it,
PPPPPPPPPPRPRPRPRRRRPRPRPRRRTRTRTRRT
It was the worst smell I’ve ever smelt in my life. It smelt like a carton of rotten eggs was stuffed up a dead skunk’s ass. It was so hot and thick in my nose. I was coughing and gagging and ready to throw up, trying to hold it down. God, I could die under here!
“what did I JUST say, faggot?” He yelled, “Sniff it! Sniff the whole thing!!!”
I was so afraid he’d crush my balls again, I did what he asked me. I sniffed up all of the fart. It took ten sniffs of the disgusting gas to breath it all in, and even then, the scent still lingered. I could barely breathe with my face smashed up in his ass crack.
“That’s better,” His voice was cheery, “My ass’ll be your new home. Every night, I’ll watch my shows while you suck up my farts. When I go to sleep, you’ll sleep with your face buried in my ass. I got a harness online to keep your face there, so you won’t roll over. I’ll wake you up in the mornings by letting out my morning farts. The pantry and fridge are full of egg salad and canned baked beans. My favorite foods. I’ll be ripping so much ass, you’re little fag nose won’t get enough of it.”
I heard his intestines grumble above me, and I started screaming again. This couldn’t be happening to me. This felt like a nightmare.
He ignored my screams, “After the first few days, I’ll have you lick all of the sweat off my ass cheeks and crack. This place doesn’t have a shower, so I’ll be using your tongue to clean me off. After that, I’ll let you kiss my ass cheeks and hole. Finally, during the last week, I’ll let you make out with my asshole. And I’ll be farting up your nose and down your throat. And by then, I’ll stop using toilet paper. Your tongue will be my new toilet paper. Because let’s face it; you’re useless when you aren’t snorting farts and cleaning my shitty asshole.”
I started crying again. This was pure insanity. I couldn’t even think clearly because of that last fart, and everything he was telling me was beyond belief. This guy’s been planning this evil torture for weeks…and there was no way I could call for help. I was going to be stuck in his ass…two weeks?!
“Here comes another one; get ready faggot” With another grunt, a giant fart exploded into my poor nose. I fought against the urge to get again, and this time I sniffed it up as quickly as I could. It burned my nostrils. I felt him shake with laughter above me,
“See? You’re getting the hang of it already! Fags are quick learners, after all.”
This was going to be the worst two weeks of my life. I wouldn’t stand for it. Once he let me go, I would go to the police and have him arrested. And the second I get the chance, I’ll fight him off and make a run for it. I don’t care that he’s bigger than me, I have ot try. I’ll sniff his farts for now, but I will NOT kiss his ass, I will NOT “make out” with his ass hole, I will NOT clean his disgusting ass with my tongue, and I will NEVER, NEVER beg for his farts!
…
One month later.
…
It was three in the afternoon; I sat in my grey seat at my grey desk under grey fluorescent lighting. I was tapping my pen against my grey desk. I even wore a grey shirt. But I was smiling.
It was Friday. The email gave me the address to go to at 10 pm that night.
After the office closed, I stopped into 7-11 to pick up an egg salad sandwich. Then I sat in my apartment, the TV on but I wasn’t watching it. My eyes were bouncing from the TV screen to the clock, wishing the hours would tick by faster.
I got to the apartment building at 10 pm. The email told me to wait outside the door of 307; no knocking, just wait.
I stood there, staring at my watch, tapping my toes. I was breathing heavily, licking my lips. My mouth was dry.
The door opened and a little blond faggot stepped out. He glanced at me, for a second, then immediately dropped his eyes to the floor. Sir Clifford was standing at the door, he said, “See you next week, Faggot Number 16” The blonde faggot walked down the hall in a rush, his head down.
“Egg salad! My favorite!” Sir Clifford took it from my hands. He gestured me to follow him into his apartment building. “Thanks Faggot Number 17.” My heart was beating fast and I smiled.
“I live to serve you, Sir Clifford.”
He smirked at me, his godlike figure standing next to the counter, “Why did you get me egg salad, Faggot Number 17?”
My voice was shaky, “Because it makes you fart, sir.”
“And why do you want me to fart?”
“Because it’s my job to sniff up all of your farts, sir” I could feel my faggot prick grow hard in my jeans, “And…I was hoping…you would,”
“Speak up, faggot.”
“…I was hoping you would let me make out with your asshole, sir.” I gulped. He stared down at me, a smirk growing on his face. I added, ‘P-Please Sir?”
Sir Clifford laughed at me. He took the sandwich out of the package and wolfed it down. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he said,
“Like I wrote in the email, our sessions cost $100. Show me you have that money, faggot.”
I pulled out five 20s from my pocket and held it out to him.
“Tell me exactly what you’re doing faggot.”
“I’m paying you to fart up my nose, and hopefully into my open mouth.”
He snatched the bills from my hand, “That’s what I like to hear,” His smile was beautiful.
He turned around and pulled his pants down, “I’m going to sit down and watch a movie, using you as a chair, but first I want you to thank my asshole for accepting you into my line of faggots.”
He spread his beautiful, god like ass cheeks apart, and his hole looked back at me. His globes were covered in manly hair. I imagined the scent, I imagined the sweat. I dropped to my knees and crawled over to him, stuffing my fag snout into his asshole. I kissed it, deeply, and said, “Thank you, Sir Clifford’s asshole, for letting me worship you. I know you don’t need me because you have 16 other faggots who kiss you and sniff your farts and clean you. I know I’m worthless and below you, but thank you for giving me the chance to worship you with the others. Please fart in my mouth, Sir Clifford’s asshole, it’s what I’ve been looking forward to all week!”
I made out with Sir Cliff’s asshole while he farted down my throat.
Always happy to take me down a peg, my life had really gone down hill ever since my wife’s new boyfriend Garett had moved in to take over as man of the house.
It was no longer enough to bend and scrape to his orders, today he was teaching me that sniffing his asshole and massive beefy farts was a privilege for a little faggot cuck like me and privileges needed to be earned. Garrett prepped the camera and gave me a wide smile as I kneeled to begin licking his feet and sucking his toes clean, begging heartily for him to please allow me to sniff his farts tonight, that I had been a good girl and loved having him to rule over me now.
My wife laughed, shook her head and came to kiss him after a few minutes of my sobbing and slurping at Garrett’s ripe smelly feet. “Let Vicky have one of your farts Garrett, I think he’s earned it, don’t you? He’s been a good little sissy for us”
My little nub throbbed at her words and I shuddered internally, was Garrett requiring me to crave this nasty new debasement? Was it working? Another tear fell down my face and the salty moisture entered the corner of my mouth just as he lowered his muscular sweaty crack, pants already down around his feet and made himself comfortable on my face. I could feel his stomach rumble above me and the two lovers whispering, giggling and making out as the gas enveloped me. “To new beginnings…”
When your gym crush invited you to a party he was throwing that evening you were ecstatic. You weren't even able toplay it cool, instead eagerly accepting.
He smiled at your enthusiasm and told you to be there for 19:00, and gave you his address.
Not only were you going to get to spend time with the guy you would secretly check out, but he said it was going to be attended by other guys from the gym so you figured it'd be a good chance to befriend them. Maybe get some tips on how they got in such greatshape.
*
You rocked up on time, you thought of being fashionably late after seeming too eager earlier. Butdidn't want to risk looking rude,
He opened the door with a smile when he saw itwas you
"Great you're here, come on in"
You entered his home, trying to make friendlyconversation as you kicked off your shoes. Listeningout you couldn't hear any music or any chatter.
"Am I the first to arrive?" It'd be a bit awkward, but at least you could meet each person as they came.
"Yeh, needed to get you in position before myguests arrived".
You paused, confused. "I'm sorry, what do you mean get me in position...and you mean 'other'guests?""
"What? No, mate. This is for my mates at the gym, you know, real builders. Not little guys like you. I mean other than you perving on me we have like no interaction. I invited you here to do us a service."
The amount of revelation stunned you. The admission he knew you oggled him, on top of the insults.
"What service?"
"Here let me show you".
He opened the door to a cupboard under the stairs,and gestured for you to take a look. Leaning in you could see that inside was a large cut out space. Big enough to stand on the end nearest the door, and on the other end, space to sit/kneel. What was more concerning was on the low end there was what looked to be a collar chained to the wall.
It was at this moment you were very aware of the muscular man stood behind you. Blocking your exit.A man you knew nothing about and willingly had entered his home.
"See we get together a lot and we learned early that when you get a lot of gym bros together there's a rather unpleasant smely issue. You know what it's like with all that protein. Wrecks havock on our guts and the farts are toxic. You can only hold them in for so long before it becomes uncomfortable. So for everyone to be able to party in comfort, but not stink out the place, we came up with a solution. The Fart Room".
Using his imposing size he started to push you into the cupboard.
We get some eager little guy from the gym, invite them round and put them in here. As the night goes on people need to use this room more and more.Y'know, the build up of protein shakes, broccoli and chicken diets and the beers at the party. They come in, let rip, and that nights recruit sniffs it all up".
By now you're fully in the room, being slowly pushed further back. You had to start crouching to avoid the ceiling.
"That's sick! Just go outside".
He rolled his eyes, annoyed at you wasting time. It's cold outside, can't keep opening doors to fart, everyone would freeze. Come the summer, we're all out there and don't want the wind blowing our wind back at us. This solution works all year round"
"Then just fart in here without a victim!" At this point your head smacked into the ceiling, the pain forcing you to drop down to your knees, where he loomed over you.
"Sorry, can't. The smell builds up and by the end we stink when we leave having marinated in it, and the gas escapes when you open the door. That's where you come in. You'll breathe it all up. It's better if you take it right from the source, to avoid it lingering. Best you do a good job from the start as well; as we get more drunk, we get a bit more aggressive with making sure we don't smell it; and will force your face in our cracks. He leaned down, reaching past you and picked up the collar.
"Sometimes people arent willing or try to escape. That's where this comes in". He held the collar to your face. "Will you need it? Or are you one of those fags that get off on this?"
"Please, l just want to go home".
"I don't care. Look, alone I can overpower you and chain you up. If you make me do that, l'l tell each guy to not go easy on you, and they 'll be rough. We're talking aggressively roided up blokes only too happy to let off some steam. Once the lock goes on you'll be at their mercy. So I would suggest you choose this". With that he unbuckled the collar and without protest put it tight around your neck.
"That's a good little fart filter. Now let's practice before the party starts".
He stands up, turns around, and lowers his shorts revealing his large muscular cheeks. Immediately you're hit with a sour pungent smell. Clearly if he did shower after the gym that day, he skipped cleaning his ass. Gently pivoting his hips his ass jutted out, inches from your face. Inviting you to come closer. You leaned in and as you felt his warm skin you were hit by the first fart.
BBBBBMMMMFFFF
It was quick, but loud and deep. The smell was as bad as he'd warned. You could smell the veggies he'd been eating. The surprise and stink made you instinctively pull away. Causing you to hit your head again in the tight space you were crouched in.
"Best get used to it, or if you keep flinching like that you'll leave here with brain damage. Though then again, maybe wouldn't be a bad thing, hit your head enough maybe you'll get amnesia and this can become a permanent set up. Would faggy like that?" He laughed as he wriggled his ass in front of you.
You didn't answer, so to fill the silence he let out a long rip.
BBBBBBBRRRRRRPPPPPPP
"Sniff that up, quickly, I'm getting a hint of it up here"
To avoid any repercussions you leant back forward and sniffed the air vigorously. Reaching as far as the tight chain would allow you to reach, the collar strangling you for the effort.
"That's better, I think you get your job. Oh, and you may have wondered about the towel hanging here. Well, sometimes the farts get a bit. ..wet. We try not to judge each other, these supplements can do all sorts to your body. So if a guy sharts a bit, just wait until he's finished and when he's gone wipe your face ready for the next visitor"
As if knowing you were about to try one more time to object and plead to be released, he let out a final fart into your open mouth. As you coughed and spluttered, trying not to focus on the taste on your tongue, there was a knock at the door.
Your neighbor Frank invited you over a week after his messy divorce with his bitchy wife Diane. He’d had a lot to drink and while you had your eyes closed in the pool, he announced he wanted to turn this into a hot tub party PPppppprRRRtttttt.
The putrid sulfur bubbles popped in your face and as you opened your eyes you found Frank’s hole was quickly inching to seal over your parted lips. He missed making out with Diane and announced that you’d have to fill in for a while. “You fags love this dontcha, pucker up fairy and make your neighbor feel good” BRRRrrrrrrraaaapapapapppppp
You were more a servant than a friend really, Frank was a busy man and a leader at work, used to barking out orders and having them followed so you just learned to roll with his new curveballs. As your lips sealed over the hairy hole before you and you felt your cheeks expand to take in his massive fart, you felt a sense of belonging with Frank - this is your place now and you are useful.
