NOT MY STORY JUST SOMETHING I LOVE THE IDEA OF:
John was sitting at his armchair in his living room, thinking for a long while. Would it work well? He thought it would. He looked up at the clock and saw the time. It was a quarter to 3. If the guy who emailed him was serious about this, he would be getting off the train at 3:15. John got up, grabbed his coat, and left his house.
The train pulled into the station. People got out. John sat in his car, waiting for the guy who had reached out to him. He stepped off the train, just as he said he would. He was short, a scrawny nerdy looking guy with blond hair and glasses, not too shabby an outfit. Sweater over a shirt and khakis. He was probably a tech guy. He was scanning the parking lot for Johnâs car, and when he saw it, he paused. Maybe he was second guessing? Whatever nerves had caused him to pause, he dropped them and walked toward Johnâs car, a slight tremble in his steps. In that moment, John felt the urge to fart. He held it in. Johnâs cock was hard in his pants.
âBen?â He rolled down the window.
âYeah, John?â He gulped.
He got into the car and buckled his seatbelt, âThanks for picking me up,â
âYeah of course. Besides, no offense, but I donât give my address out to people who might flake.â He turned out of the parking lot, âYou still want to do this?â
âYeah,â Ben was smiling wide. He thought John looked even hotter in person; rugged black hair and scruff, a strong physique...he had seen naked pictures and knew he was hairy under those clothes.
âGood. Do you want lunch or anything?â John gave out a little laugh, âWill probably be your last good meal for a while,â
âNo itâs ok, I ate before I got on the train,â Ben was shaking now. John grimaced. He didnât want to bring this stranger to his house if he started having doubts and backing out. But there was not much he could do. In the email, he was clear that Ben was allowed to say no at any point before they start. After they started, Ben would have no choice. That part turned Ben on, heâd said.
They reached his house. It was an ordinary single story house. It didnât stand out from the others in the neighborhood. It had a chimney, but John didnât use the fireplace for years.
âYou know, Iâm still surprised that you found my ad,â John said as they got out of the car. âI thought that site would have taken it down by now.â
âNope, itâs, uh, still up.â Ben had gone quiet in the car. John could tell he was nervous. Once they got into the house, Ben asked âOk so, where is it?â
John smiled again. Maybe the nerves were because of excitement. âFollow me.â
He brought him into the living room. It was relatively small. His armchair was against one wall. The couch was against the other. Three large windows looked into the back yard. Across from the armchair was the TV. John gestured toward the armchair, âHere it is, just like I told you.â
Ben was trembling a lot now, and he looked at the chair, his eyes glued to the seat. âIt really works the way you said, in the email?â His voice was faint.
âYep. Iâll go over just to be clear,â With a grunt, he pulled the chair away from the wall. Ben couldnât believe what he was looking at. It was exactly as it was in the pictures. The same pictures he had been jerking off to for the past week.
It was a large square hole in the wall. John had explained that it was where the fireplace used to be, but he didnât want to pay extra for gas so he had it removed. Instead of patching up the wall, he left the hole. Heâd also done a lot of DIY. He expanded the back of the wall, which took some space out of his bedroom closet but he didnât mind that. He built a small drain that went down into the houseâs sewage pipes. Just above that was a long board with wheels, what resembles a hospital gurnee. There were straps around it. There was also a hole in the middle of the board.
âAlright,â John sighed, his arms on his waist, âSo...to recap. Youâll lay down here. Iâll strap your arms, ankles, legs, and chest in so you canât move. Youâll be naked and your ass will go in that hole. Iâll put a funnel system around your dick and under your ass. That way, you donât have to come out for the restroom or anything, you can just go into that hole. Kind of gross but it takes care of that problem at least.â
âYouâll be completely strapped and so, wonât move around. Then, Iâll put the chair over you. As I showed you,â He gestured toward the back of the chair, the bottom of it was hollowed out, âI fixed this old armchair up so that the cushion has a rim-chair built into it. When I put the chair back in place, I will turn the knobs on the gurnee and it will lift you up so that your face is at the seat level. See?â He unveiled the top of the seat, which looked like a normal cushion at first but turned out to be a thin fabric hiding the rim-chair. âYour face will be in that hole. And...uh, yeah thatâs it. Iâll sit on your face as long as I want.â
Benâs heart was pounding. John continued, âThis fabric is in case I have friends over. Which I will, tomorrow night. I invited some buddies to come watch the game. Donât worry, none of them will be sitting in this seat. Your face belongs to my ass only,â He smiled wide, âJust as I said in my emails, when you are my chair, you have no rights. You cannot say you want out at any time. If I need to fart, Iâm farting up your nose. If I want my hole licked, Iâll sit on you naked and that will be your only cue. The only time you matter is when I ask if you are hungry or thirsty, and Iâll give you food and water. Otherwise, you donât give me instructions. Iâm not interested in conversation, because I donât talk to chairs. If you are uncomfortable and want me to loosen the straps, too bad. If youâre sick of my farts, too bad. As we agreed, you belong to me for the next 48 hours. There are no safe words. If you want out now, Iâll take you back home. But the minute I put you in the wall is the minute you belong to me. If at any point in the next 48 hours you want to stop, and go home...too bad. My ass is your home until the weekendâs over. Do you understand?â
Benâs face was white. Heâd been jerking off to this kind of fantasy for so long, and when he found Johnâs ad online, he couldnât contain his excitement. But now that he was in the house, he was terrified. It was too real for him. What if he hated it? What if in the very first minute he hates it after all? Heâd never done something like this before. Heâd never actually been smothered under a manâs ass, heâd never sniffed farts, never done anything kinky like this. If it turns out he doesnât like it...heâll be stuck as a human chair for two days.
âDo you understand?â John was deliberate.
âYes sir,â Ben gulped, âI...Iâm sorry this is just so hardcore...Iâve heard of people doing these things but I havenât really done BDSM stuff with anyone,â
âDo you want to call it quits?â John asked again. âI wonât be mad.â That wasnât entirely true. He would be annoyed and disappointed if the only person who responded to his ad decided to say no at the literal last minute. Heâd been dying to try out his new toy for months. But he was still a good guy. He wouldnât pressure anyone into doing it. In the emails, Ben seemed very excited. Maybe he was more in love with the idea of being a human chair than actually doing it. John would cut him slack since he has never dipped into bondage play before.
And Ben was nervous. He stared at the hole for a long time. The silence was more awkward with each passing second. Finally he took a deep breath, âNo, I...Iâm ready.â
âOk. Take off your clothes.â
Ben stripped. As he undressed, his face was flushed. John seemed like a nice guy over their email conversation. But how could he put so much trust in a stranger on the internet? The only solace that Ben had was knowing that in these last few moments before they started, he was in complete control. At any second he could say âNopeâ and go back home. But that window of time was getting smaller and smaller. John had pulled the gurnee out from the hole in the wall. There were seven straps. Two for each ankle, two for each wrist, one for his thighs, one for his chest, and one for the neck. There was a little padded indent at the front where his head would rest, two little rounded poles came up on either side. He didnât know what they were for.
âAlright, if you are ready, lay down on your back.â
Ben stood in the living room naked. His cock had gone hard and was throbbing. He knew that once he was strapped in, he wouldnât be able to touch himself at all for the whole weekend. That was part of the fun.
âAnd Iâll take your glasses for you,â He said. Ben took them off and handed them over. John asked, âcan you see at all without these?â
âA little,â he shrugged, blinking, âI canât see far away.â
âOk. Not that it matters, you wonât be looking at anything but my asshole.â He picked up Benâs clothes and put them on the table.
Ben sat down on the gurnee and got into position. Laying down, his ass was over the hole. When he had to go, he would just relieve himself into the tube that John would set up. That was the worst part, to him in the moment, thinking how disgusting and unhygienic it was. But he wouldn't have another choice. John had suggested wearing an adult diaper, but that sounded even worse.
Ben tightened the straps around his ankles. Then he tightened the strap over his thighs. Then, around his wrists. Benâs heart was beating too fast. He tried to control his breathing. John tightened the strap over his chest. Almost as a reflex, Ben jerked his body a bit but he couldnât move at all. Delicately, John guided Benâs head down on the padding, and carefully wrapped the strap around his neck and tightened it just enough to keep him from moving his head up. Ben gulped, he felt the strap. He could still breathe fine at least. John moved over to fit a large tube over Benâs dick, and pointed the other end of it down the hole in the gurnee between Benâs legs. He set up a similar tube under Benâs ass. Then, John turned some knob near Benâs head, and the two poles on either side came together and pressed into his temples just above his ears. They werenât tight, but they were set in place so Ben couldnât turn his face to the side. He was completely immobile.
âAlright. This is your last chance,â John stood over him, his crotch was at the level of Benâs face. From here, Ben saw John at a glorious angle. He looked so tall, buff, powerful, a dominant man. âAre you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?â
Ben nodded as much as the poles and straps allowed him to, âYes sir. I...I need to be your chair. Itâs my destinyâ Benâs cock was throbbing against his belly.
John smiled widely. His crotch was bulging. He had been horny since they started talking online. âYou have no idea how much Iâm going to love this. This has been my fantasy for years but I couldnât find guys who were into it. Youâll be my first chair. You should be honored.â
Ben gulped, his face was burning red, âI...Iâm very honored sir. I hope I serve you well.â
âYou only have three jobs once youâre in there,â John said, âFirst, sniff all of my farts. I donât want to smell a single one. Second, eat out my asshole whenever Iâm naked. Third, donât talk unless you are asking for food and water.â
â...ok,â Benâs voice had gone weak. He was starting to feel dread now. Excited and horny, but also dreading if heâd made the wrong choice. But it was too late to say anything. He had to go through with it. As he said, this weekend is his destiny now.
It was settled. John slowly pushed the gurnee into the old fireplace, lining it up right. He had sealed off the chimney long ago, so it wouldnât be cold in there. Benâs body was completely hidden in the wall. Only his head and shoulders were sticking out, held down on the gurnee. Using his feet, John kicked down the wheel stops so that the gurnee couldnât move if Ben shook around. John then pushed the chair back in place against the wall. Then, he got on his knees and stuck his hand under the chair. He found another knob and twisted it a few times to lift the gurnee up. As promised, Benâs nose peaked through the hole in the seat. John stood up, and saw through the built-in rim seat, Benâs face was the only part of him exposed. John grabbed the fabric from earlier and reminded him, âThis is only to cover you for when my friends are here tomorrow. Donât worry, they wonât see you. But it is thin enough that my ass will mold over your face and you will still get to smell everything.â
âUm, John,â Ben was shivering, âcan we...or, ok, wait, pause, can we just do this for maybe half an hour at first, just to test it so I can see what itâs like before we do the full two days,â
John burst out laughing. It sounded evil in the moment. Benâs face went white this time, the same dread creeped back. John said âI just told you minutes ago that donât have conversations with chairs. No normal person speaks to a chair. But since youâre new to this Iâll let it slide. Your time for negotiation is over. If you wanted to only do half an hour, you should have said so in the email. But nooo...youâre pathetic little dick was throbbing when I said 48 hours. Remember you told me that? Throbbing. You loved the time we picked. So Iâm sticking with it. It is,â he looked at the clock, â4pm Friday. Meaning that you will be here until 4pm Sunday afternoon. And now Iâm done talking to you.â He sighed. Ben was whimpering. He was afraid heâd made a terrible mistake.
âI have been holding this fart in since I picked you up from the train,â John smiled again, âAnd youâre going to vacuum suck it out of my jeans.â he turned around. His ass looked huge from this angle, and he slowly lowered it over Benâs face. The cushion supported his butt cheeks, and lightly spread them in his pants. They molded over Benâs face. John shifted around until he felt the tip of Benâs nose wedge up against his asshole. Now John was shaking. His cock was hard. He gripped the armrests of the chair and pushed.
The fart came out much louder than he thought it would be. It vibrated deep into the chair. He burst out laughing. He felt Ben cry out into his ass, and he heard the gurnee wheels squeak. He was buckling around down there, making the gurnee shake a bit, but John knew it wouldnât move. And he knew that there was nothing Ben could do to get his face out from his ass. The straps and post made it so he had no choice but to keep his head up, and if John wanted to fart directly into his nostrils, he could. And definitely would.
âAgain, Iâll be nice since youâre new to this,â John cleared his throat, âYou canât be making any noise down there. The next 24 hours will be great practice for you to suck in my farts without freaking out and screaming.â
He felt Ben settle down, and felt him sniff and cough into his ass cheeks. John said, âOk and also you really need to not cough or gag or anything. Anyway, now we can start for real.â
And with that, John stopped talking. Because why would he talk to a chair? He flipped on the TV and watched an old sitcom rerun. He felt a silent but deadly fart seep out and warm his butt. He shivered in delight, feeling extra comfortable in his new chair. If anyone else lived in the house with him, walking by they would just see John sitting in his favorite chair watching TV, and not think twice.
The next couple hours were uneventful. The sun set and it got dark in the house quick. John had some lights on and was still watching the show. At one point he got up to grab a bag of chips. As he stood up, he heard his chair coughing and sucking in fresh air. John laughed. In the kitchen he poured some chips into a bowl. Then he walked right back to the living room and sat down. Obedient so far. He didnât have that much gas. Just a few short, quiet farts whispered out of his ass. They must have stunk pretty badly because each time, he felt muffled coughing against his butt cheeks, and heard the gurnee shake a bit. John had a huge smile on his face, and he was hard the whole time.
At around 7pm he turned off the TV, got up, and went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Nothing special. Leftover beef tacos. Even though it wasnât healthy for him, he heated it up with a heaping handful of pre-shredded cheese. His grin was so wide. Heâd mentioned in earlier emails that he was lactose intolerant, and that he would purposefully eat dairy so that he had more frequent and more foul smelling gas. In Benâs reply, he said âmy cock is drooling at the thoughtâ. So, why not stick to his word? Heâll feel gross for the rest of the night, but at least John wouldnât have to smell any of his own farts. He quietly ate his tacos in the kitchen, texting his friends about what beer he should get for the party tomorrow.
Closer to 8pm, he came back to the living room. He wanted so badly to look down at his chair again, but part of the fun was not acknowledging Ben as a person. He had to treat the chair like he would treat any other chair; with apathy, and disinterest. He sat back down, shifting a bit and feeling his cheeks separate so that Benâs face wedged into his ass again. He puckered his hole to make sure that it was right over his nose.
âUgh, I shouldnât have put cheese in those tacosâ he pretended he was talking to himself, âMy ass is gonna be ripping up a storm tonight.â
He sat back and turned the TV on again. This time he watched the next episode of his favorite cop drama.
His guts gurgled. His dick got hard. He knew that his chair had heard the gurgling too. John could feel his face scrunch up, embracing for impact. He grunted,
A wet sounding fart sputtered out of his ass. John sighed. He felt the chair sniff, and then it made a violent gagging noise. Again, he felt the chair shake a little as Benâs body jerked as a reflex. John held back laughter. His own lactose farts made him feel queasy. He couldnât imagine how unbearable they had to be injected right up the nose. He looked at the clock. Only 45 more hours to go.
At 9pm he got up, and to his surprise, the chair spoke,
âJohn can we do a time out,â
âHuh?â He looked around, pretending that he was alone, âThatâs funny, I could have sworn I heard someone speak even though thereâs no other human in the house,â
âJohn Iâm serious,â the chair pleaded, âYour farts stink really fucking bad, I need a break,â
John grit his teeth, and said, âOk, quicktime out. Yeah, of course they stink. Theyâre farts. Not rose perfume. Second, you donât get breaks, remember? You are my chair.â
âYeah,â Benâs voice was faint, defeated. Theyâd already talked about this at length over email, but it wasnât until that moment that Ben had internalized the reality of it.
âNow, Iâve been way too nice to you so far,â John continued, âSo if you speak without permission again, Iâm not going to be nice. Ok?â
The chair didnât say anything.
âGood chair.â John nodded. âYou hungry?â
John went into the kitchen to make food. Ben stared up at the ceiling, his whole body trembling. This was really happening. He couldnât stand Johnâs noxious farts. Each one made him feel sick to his stomach. But he had no choice. Just as he promised, he was completely at the mercy of Johnâs ass. In the dark hole in the wall, a pearl of precum dripped out of Benâs cock.
John came back with bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. The smell of tacos when John got up earlier had made his stomach growl, and he wished he would have gotten more food than this. But he couldnât complain. John had to spoon feed him the soup, and he tore the sandwich into small bites to drop into his mouth. Didnât want to get the rest of the chair dirty. He then let Ben gulp down a glass of water.
Without asking if he was satisfied, John sat right back down in the chair. He had a devilish smile on his face, because he had been holding in more gas since he got up.
The fart sounded like it came from deep in his bowls. Again, he felt the chair jerking around under him. He continued to watch TV.
Close to 10pm, John turned the TV off and got up. He went into the bathroom, got undressed, and turned on the shower. He stood outside, waiting for the water to get hot. His body was covered in black hair, especially on his arms, legs, and ass cheeks. He got into the shower and started to shampoo his hair. He rinsed, put in some conditioner, and lathered his hands in body wash. He kept his ass sticking out of the shower curtain. He didnât want a single drop of water to touch it. Why wash your ass in the shower when you had a chair with a built in asshole cleaner? Out of curiosity, he did two things. First, he brought his ass back into the shower, still away from the water, and ripped a fart. It echoed off the tiles. He sniffed the air. It was like old cheese in rotting egg salad. The stink actually made him gag. He started laughing. That was what he would be feeding his chair for the next few days. His cock was hard, but he decided to wait to take care of it.
The second thing he did, after he dried himself off, was to rub his index finger in his ass crack, then bring it up to his nose to smell. Not atrocious, but not...good. Itâs a manâs ass at the end of the day, of course it wouldnât smell good. Again he shivered. He washed his hands, then he brushed his teeth. He went into his room, still naked, and grabbed a blanket. Then he walked back to the living room.
His cock had gone down a bit, but it was at half mast when he reached the chair. Briefly, he looked into Benâs eyes, before turning around and sitting down. Now he felt the skin of his face wedge into his ass crack. Luckily he didnât have to repeat the rule about nudity, because the chair remembered to start licking. John draped the blanket over himself, and opened a book he had left on the table.
For the next few hours, John was in ecstasy. It was so warm and comfortable. He loved the feeling of being fresh out of the shower, comfy and naked in a blanket, curled up with a good book, and feeling a hot moist tongue work his asshole. It was hard for him to focus on the book, because, despite how much he wanted to dehumanize and ignore him, Ben was the only thing on Johnâs mind. He thought that at any moment, he could easily fart into his mouth. But it was still day one, John thought heâd give him a bit more time to get used to these arrangements before he pushed the boundaries. The devil on his shoulder was excited. He couldnât wait until tomorrow, when he would get to hear his chair gagging on the fart heâll rip down its throat.
As the hours passed, the tongue was moving slower and slower. There were a few minutes where it stopped completely. John would clear his throat, and a moment later it would start back up again. He looked at the clock. It was nearing 1am.
8 hours had passed. Another 40 to go. John wished he could just fall asleep in his chair, and force Ben to endure his night farts. His dick was hard at the idea of him being fast asleep, and his unconscious body letting out a disgusting fart right up Benâs nose. So badly, he wanted to sleep on top of Ben, keeping Ben from sleeping and forcing him to be conscious with his putrid asshole over his nose. But unfortunately, John couldnât fall asleep in a chair. He had to lay down. So, he put the bookmark in his book, set it aside, tossed the blanket off of him, and got up to go to bed. He stood up a bit, his ass hovering just over the chair. Instead of saying goodnight, he grabbed his ass cheeks, spread them, and pushed,
Yet another obnoxiously disgusting fart burst out of his ass. This time, he got to hear the chairâs coughing and gagging without being muffled. He didnât turn to look. He turned off the light and left the room.
In bed, John had lotioned his cock and was masturbating to the memories of the day. He was kicking himself for not modifying the couch instead. If heâd modified the couch, then he could have the option to sleep with his ass over Benâs face. Ribbons of cum draped his body. He wiped it off with a rag and fell asleep.
At 7am, Johnâs alarm went off. He yawned, stretched, refreshed for a new day. He got out of bed and threw on tight athletic underwear that helped him breathe down there, grey jogging shorts, and a tight purple running shirt. He put on black socks, and his running shoes.
Walking through the house, he passed the living room on the way to the kitchen. His chair was silent. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, grabbed his iPod, and left his house.
Even though it was a cool morning, he sweat a lot during his run. He jogged three miles every morning. His stomach wasnât feeling good. Still upset from the cheese the night before. But that was a problem for his chair to deal with.
It was closer to 8am when he got back to the house, his back, armpits, crotch, feet, and ass were all sweating. He finished his water and came into the house, where he took off his shoes, and, with a smirk, dropped his jogging shorts. His underwear had dark patches of sweat around his ass crack and crotch. He walked straight to the living room, ready to relax in his chair.
Briefly looking at the face in the hole, he noticed bags under his eyes. He thought about asking Ben if he slept well, but remembered that it would be weird for a guy to talk to a chair. Ben hadnât slept well at all. He never was able to sleep on his back, and hours of the straps digging into his skin made him itchy, and the inability to move made him claustrophobic. He briefly slept for a few minutes at a time, dozing off then waking up again, unable to fall into a deep sleep.
John twisted around and sat on the chair. His tight underwear held in the moisture of his ass crack sweat up against the nose. John leaned forward, scrolling through social media on his phone. He slowly let out a thick and silent fart. It made his swamp ass heat up, and again he heard and felt retching under him. Johnâs cock tightened.
After a half an hour of aimlessly looking at sensationalized news, John got up and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. He scrambled some eggs and put them in an english muffin sandwich, each with a slice of ham and muenster cheese. He figured the combination of eggs and cheese would make a wonderful cocktail of gas for his chair to enjoy later.
He went to the living room and asked, âHungry?â
âYes sir,â the chairâs voice croaked, sounding depressed.
John went back to the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back with some buttered toast, a cup of greek yogurt, and a banana cut in slices. Feeding was the only time he treated Ben like a person. John looked down at him with a kind smile.
After giving him a glass of water to drink, the chair said, â...Iâm sorry John but I feel so stiff. Can you let me out?â
Johnâs smile disappeared.
âJust five minutes and Iâll get right back in,â the voice was shrill, âPlease, I gotta stretch man, this hurts,â
John didnât say anything. He set the glass down, stood up, and left the room. Benâs eyes frantically shifted, but he shouldnât move his head to see anything beyond the ceiling. He heard Johnâs footsteps come back, and then, to Benâs surprise, he felt the gurnee lower. He was going to let him out!
âThank you so much sir,â he smiled, âI promise I wonât complain again for the rest of the weekend,â
John moved the chair out of the way. But instead of pulling the gurnee out of the wall, he stood over Ben and twisted his ear. Ben cried out in pain, his face scrunching up and his mouth wide open. Just what John wanted. John quickly shoved something into Benâs mouth, and quickly wrapped a strap around the back of his head, keeping it secure around his mouth. Ben couldnât see it, but he could feel it prying his lips open. He couldnât close his mouth if he wanted to. He moaned out, frantic. What was going on?
John ignored his cries, and he brought the chair back over him. Then, he reset the gurnee to lift him back up to seat level. Just like before, except this time his mouth was being held open with a spider gag.
The chair continued to moan in fear as John went into the kitchen and pulled out a half pint of chocolate milk. He chugged half of it, then carried it into the living room. He stood over the chair so it could see clearly what he was holding. Itâs eyes were wide with fear. It moaned out, unable to make words but the pattern was clear, âNo, no, no, no,â
âI told you I would stop being nice if you didnât keep silent,â John closed his eyes, setting the milk jug down. âNow, you must be punished.â
He turned around, peeled his underwear off his sweaty ass cheeks, pulled them apart, and sat down on the chair.
The chair screamed up Johnâs ass. John smirked. That had to taste bad. It would take another hour for the milk to do havoc on his system, so he would just have to wait until the real punishment started. John turned on the TV and relaxed.
At 11:30, John finally stood up. He looked down at Benâs face, which was wet with tears, and his eyes were burning red. Despite how horrible the past three hours had been for him, he at least managed to swallow every single fart.
Without speaking, John lowered the gurnee, moved the chair, and then removed the spider gag. The chair didnât speak. Just like a good chair should act. He then put everything back in place.
John hoped that Ben finally understood what âyou have no rightsâ means, and "you belong to me for the next 48 hoursâ. He looked at the clock and did a quick calculation. 20 hours in, only 28 more to go.
He went into his bedroom and changed into jeans and a plain sweater. Grabbed his coat, wallet, and keys, then left the house. He drove to the grocery store. It was busy around lunch time. He picked up snacks for tonightâs game. Buffalo chicken wings with blue cheese dipping sauce. Nachos. Mozzarella sticks. John grimaced. The milk he drank earlier was making him feel bloated and queasy. As bad as he felt, at least he didnât have to experience dozens of his lactose farts directly on his tongue. He shuddered at the thought. Even so, he felt reluctant to get all of these cheese products. He shrugged. He always took one for the team. If his friends were over, heâd treat them to all kinds of unhealthy cheese covered snacks. And again, it isnât as if any of them would have to smell his farts. That was the chairâs job.
He bought a case of generic beer. Then, he decided for himself to grab a six pack of stouts. These heavy dark beers made his ass bloated at night. Since itâs day two, he should bring out the big guns and make full use of his fart-vacuuming chair.
When he got back home, it was a little after 1pm. While he was gone, Ben managed to doze off a bit, only from exhaustion. And boredom. The worst part of this weekend so far was the incredible boredom he felt.
John put everything away, and he left the wings in the oven on low heat. He came back with lunch for the chair. Just a ham sandwich. As he fed the chair, he said out loud, âMy friends will be coming around four. Iâve been feeling so bloated and gassy today. Thankfully my new chair will take care of that. Iâll let them out silently, and it will silently vacuum up my farts so no one has to smell them.
The chair let out a whimper.
By the time his friends came, John had changed into sweatpants and a loose comfortable sweatshirt. Matt and Hugo gave him bro hugs, and they all walked toward the living room. From their view, the chair was plain as ever, a normal looking seat, unremarkable and not worth looking at twice. John had already set up the nachos. They all grabbed beers, John opted for his bottle of stout. He sat down in his chair and relaxed, taking a deep swig of the bottle. The three of them chatted about work, Hugo vented about his girlfriend, they watched the game and talked about stats, they munched on nachos, they made dirty jokes. John felt his stomach cramp a bit, and so he carefully let out a silent stream of gas. It felt very hot, and it warmed up his butt and the seat of the chair. The heat went away quickly at least. The chair was working. John smiled.
Later, he got up to bring in the wings. As he got up, he smoothed out the sides of the chair to fix any suspicious indentations. For a split second, the seat seemed to be in the shape of a human face. But neither of the friends noticed, because, well, why would anyone pay attention to a chair? In the kitchen, John pulled the wings out of the oven. His stomach still felt sick. The milk from earlier was still bothering him, plus the new addition of nacho cheese. The beer wasnât helping, and if he dipped fried chicken wings into a cheese sauce...He closed his eyes. It would be very hard for him to hide his gas. But he had to be a good host.
The night went on, and the more drunk they got, the louder they got. They laughed, they cheered. John was so comfortable in his seat. He slowly let out what felt like the hundreth fart of the night. Again, he felt his ass warm up. And again, he felt the slightest nudge underneath him.
âDude should you be eating all this cheese?â Hugo asked.
Matt laughed, âOh yeah, doesnât this shit give you like mad farts and stuff,â
âHah, yeah,â John shrugged, âTo be honest Iâve been farting into my chair ever since I sat down.â
They all started laughing. He went on, âSeriously, it isnât even like a bunch of farts, for the past hour itâs been one long stream of gas. Iâm still letting it out.â
Hugo was on the verge of tears.
âDonât worry, my chairâs been absorbing it all,â
After the game ended, they sat in the living room, chatting some more. Finally, it was nearing 10pm, and they decided to head out. âYou wanna come out to Nicoâs with us?â Their favorite bar.
âNah, Iâm good. Iâve been exhausted I think Iâll just watch some TV then head to bed.â And he genuinely was feeling sick to his stomach.
He saw them out. Then he returned to the living room and stretched. He saw that he forgot to adjust the fabric the last time he got up, and so the indentation of a face was clear on the seat. John was surprised that none of them had noticed. His dick was getting hard. He walked over to the chair and took the fabric off. Ben took a gasp of air.
âYes sir,â he coughed.
He went to get a glass of water. He wanted to congratulate Ben on a job well done. Five hours worth of farts went completely unnoticed because of him. But it would be strange to thank a chair for doing something itâs supposed to do anyway. And it isnât as if a chair would feel something like pride in being a fart absorber.
After giving Ben some water, John sat back down. His eyelids were heavy. He watched the TV some more. He realized he was falling asleep. He got up, went to the fridge, and pulled out the fourth bottle of the night. Not a whole lot, but enough to make his body feel heavy. He got an idea. He was trembling with excitement, but he couldnât think about it too much or the plan wouldnât work. He opened a drawer and took out a roll of duct tape. Back in the living room, he set the bottle on the table next to his chair. Then he pulled out a strip of duct tape, and used it to cover the mouth in the chair. Then, he turned around, and slowly lowered the back of his sweatpants. His hairy ass hung out of his pants, and he slowly sat down on the chair, adjusting so that his hole was over the nose as usual. He yawned. He drank the beer and watched the TV, lowering the volume. After another hour, without trying he fell asleep.
It wasnât until the early hours of the morning that Ben realized, with horror, what had happened. That John had fallen asleep with his disgusting unwashed asshole against his nose. Without being able to open his mouth, he had to breathe through his nose, which meant he had to take in his stink with each breath. The weight over him made it difficult to breath as it was.
When he first farted, Ben thought that John was awake. The fart made his eyes burn, and he gagged against the duct tape. Then he realized that John was completely asleep, and that he just farted in his sleep. They were soft, but thick and hot and swampy. The combination of lactose, beer, and deep fried foods, made the stink beyond atrocious. Another fart seeped out of Johnâs ass. Ben gripped the sides of the board, and wiggled his feet, and tried shifting his body around. There had to be some way to turn his head to the side so he didnât have to suffer it. But everything had been planned out too well. There was no escape. The asshole was providing him his only air, and so it was the only thing keeping him alive through the night.
At 7am the next morning, the alarm in Johnâs room went off. He could hear it from the living room. He had a bit of a headache, and his mouth was dry. He saw the TV was still on, low volume. The morning news. He drifted in and out of sleep for a bit.
Almost half an hour later, he opened his eyes again. He felt sweaty. Uncomfortably sweaty. It was warm in this room, and the sweat clothes were really making him sweat. He knew his hairy ass was coated in sweat, and the face pressed up in his ass crack also felt uncomfortably hot. John smiled. He couldnât imagine how horrible the night had to have been for his chair. He grunted and let out a beastly morning fart.
PPPPTPRPTRPTRPTRPTRPTPPSSSS
Yep. Definitely a beer fart. He felt shifting underneath him. Good, his chair survived the night. He stayed there for a bit so the chair could absorb the gas.
He stood up, peeling his cheeks off the face, and yanked the duct tape off. The chair cried out in pain, and then started gasping. John ignored the noise and walked to his room, his ass still hanging out, red marks from where it had been rubbing skin all night.
He took off his clothes, went into the bathroom, and took another shower. Again, he kept his ass out of the curtain. He thought it must have looked funny from an outsider perspective; a man taking a shower with his ass sticking out.
Usually he went for a run, but he wasnât feeling good. His stomach was still a wreck from the night before. Only 7 more hours of fun. He didnât put on a shirt, but he did put on a pair of basketball shorts.
He went back to the kitchen and made a bowl of oatmeal. He fed the chair without speaking to it. The chair didnât say anything, it greedily ate the oatmeal off the spoon. Even though John knew it would make him feel worse, he poured himself a bowl of cereal with milk. He brought his cereal into the living room and ate it while watching the news from his chair. His stomach hurt in the next half hour.
The fart was painful, and sounded ugly. John cringed and held his stomach. He wanted to take one of his emergency gas pain relief pills, but that would probably stop his gas for the rest of the day. He only had 6.5 hours of fun left with his chair, and he wanted to make it happy. So he bore the pain, and pushed out the next fart.
PPRRTTRTRTRTRPTPRTPRTPRTPRTPRPTRPTPRTP
The chair was working overtime to suck in these farts. John was surprised he still felt and heard gagging underneath him. Youâd think after so much time, the chair would get used to it by then.
A wicked thought came to Johnâs mind. Heâd had it before when he first messaged Ben, but he didnât take it seriously. But he thought, what if he just decided to keep his new chair, and ignore any previous arrangements. Of course the thought was just a fantasy, he couldnât actually do that to Ben. But it made his balls tighten.
He didnât do much the next couple hours. As usual, he watched TV, and unleashed his upset-stomach farts into the seat of the chair. He couldnât imagined what they must have smelt like. And thanks to the chair, he would have no idea.
At lunch, he just had a sandwich. He fed the same type of sandwich to the chair, and gave it water. Then, he sat back down. He watched reruns. He yawned. It was pretty boring to just sit in a chair all day, but he wanted the chairâs last hours to be full of farts and ass stink.
The clock eventually struck 3:30pm. Only 30 more minutes. The chair had done a fantastic job today. Unlike yesterday with all of its shaking around and moaning and speaking, the chair was completely quiet, and barely moved. It didnât matter how loud or long or rank the farts were, the chair silently took them in. Again, as Johnâs heart was pounding, he pulled his pants down and sat back on the chair with his bare ass. He felt the tongue wiggle up his hole immediately. He started to jerk off, his throbbing cock large in his hand. His balls felt swollen. He knew he was going to cum soon, so he had to make it count.
He tried imagining what it was like for his chair the past two days. How endless the assault of farts must have been for its nose. How uncomfortable its body had to be in the straps. How it had no way of knowing the passage of time, and could only see, feel, and smell the ass that was resting on it. How bad his ass stunk from the farts and from not washing. And how the chair licked his asshole without protest.
He felt a fart and ripped it onto the tongue and into its mouth.
The tongue recoiled for a moment, then kept going.
John came. His asshole clenched over the tongue that was rimming him.
He settled down, his heart beating, and feeling light headed, as the tongue kept probing his asshole. The clock read 4pm, but he spent a few minutes relaxing in the afterglow.
âAlright then,â John sighed in disappointment, âTimeâs up.â
He stood up. Ben let out a sigh of relief. John lowered the gurnee, and moved the chair out of the way. Then, he pulled the gurnee halfway out. He undid the hoses and tubes around Benâs privates. Then he pulled the gurnee out. Ben looked pale, limp, and miserable. Especially in his eyes, there was such misery and exhaustion. His cock was rock hard.
âI donât normally do this to guys,â John said, âBut you deserve a reward for being such a good chair,â
He dropped his pants, and straddled Ben, lowering his asshole over his face, smothering him. As he sat on Ben, he watched as his body buckled around. John grabbed Benâs rock hard cock, bent over, and took it into his mouth.
Ben had been rock hard for so long, that he felt his dick was sensitive enough to go off at the slightest friction. At least, thatâs what he thought would happen, if he had any physical stimulation while he was down there. It only took him a minute to erupt cum into Johnâs mouth. He moaned into Johnâs ass.
Then, John stood up and undid the straps. Slowly, Ben moved his joints around. When John got to the headboard and undid the strap and posts, Ben cracked his neck loudly. Like a sloth, he tried sitting up, his full body was fatigued. Red lines from where the straps were raced across his skin.
âWell...how was it?â John smiled.
âThat was fucking horrible,â Ben muttered.
âOh,â John frowned, âIâm sorry it wasnât what you hoped it would be.â
âFuck off, whereâs your bathroom, I need to shower.â
John drove him to the train station that evening. In the car, just before Ben left, he said âWell, even though you didnât like it, thanks for helping me live out this fantasy.â
âWhatever,â Benâs voice was low. He got out of the car and headed for the train.
On the train ride, Ben looked depressed. He thought through everything heâd experienced. How badly Johnâs farts stink. How uncomfortable it was to be strapped down. How humiliating and disgusting it was to relieve himself in a hole in the wall. His full body was exhausted and stiff with pain from laying on the board for so long. And John didnât even have the decency to let him stretch once. He remembered how boring it was to just lay there quietly, passively taking farts to the face, and then staring up at the ceiling when he was away. He had constant headaches from exhaustion and the pressure of Johnâs body. He felt underfed and cranky from the small bland meals John made for him. And worst of all, he was constantly nauseous when John farted into his nose. His throat hurt from so much coughing and gagging. And when the farts were very bad, he would jerk around and the straps dug more into his skin, making it burn.
Heâd turned down going with his friends to a bar that weekend for this. Heâd chosen to spend two days of his life like this. He felt so dirty and pathetic. And embarrassed. He had been so excited to try out bondage, and his fart fetish, only to hate both in the end.
That night, he was laying in bed, and he thought about Johnâs ass, how bad it stunk, how gross it felt sweating on his face, how the hairs clung to his nose and made it itch.
Despite how much heâd hated the experience, his cock was rock hard. And cocks usually donât lie.
âHey John, itâs me. Ben.â
âOh...hey. Whatâs up?â
He took a deep breath, âThat was the hottest thing Iâve ever done. I loved it so much.â
âReally? You sounded so mad after I let you out,â
âYeah butâŠâ Ben couldnât explain, âI canât stop thinking about your asshole.â
âOh well Iâm flattered, haha,â
âAre you doing anything this weekend?â
On the other end of the line, Ben heard John laughing.
snowghoul
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
