This was a really old story, one I thought I lost way back from the first tumblr purge. People have been asking for it lately and I found out I did have a copy;
...
Growing up as the youngest of five brothers meant my life was a living hell. My parents were always working, so that meant my oldest brother Jackson was in charge. Since I was the youngest, I was always the punching bag for their pranks.
Sometimes my brother Aiden would dump his dirty laundry over me. The worst was that he had taken one of his dirty socks, stuffed it into my mouth, and tied the other sock around my mouth so I couldn’t spit it out. He did this after handcuffing me to a chair with dad’s spare handcuffs [he was a cop] and then he’d drop a pair of dirty boxers over my face, making sure the part that was over his ass would line up with my nose, and leave me there for an hour.
Sometimes my brother Liam loved giving me wedgies. I’d be lying on my stomach on the carpet, watching cartoons, and suddenly I’d feel my underwear yank up, squeezing my crotch and burning my ass crack. I’d scream as my whole body was lifted off the ground by the back of my underwear, Ethan cackling over me like an evil god.
Oliver would love to hit me when I’d least expect it. Most often I’d walk out of the bathroom in the morning and his fist would swing out of nowhere to hit my arm or my gut. The gut was the worst, those would make me double over. Sometimes he’d swing around from behind a corner and let his hand at full force slap my butt. That always stung.
But worst of all was Jackson, and the hierarchy of gas. The “hierarchy” was a term he made up. Basically, you were allowed to burp and fart on any brother younger than you. So he got to share his gas with all of us. In order of oldest to youngest, it was him, Aiden, Liam, Oliver, and then me. That meant that I was always going to be a target for a gassy mouth or butt, and I couldn’t burp or fart back at any of them. Oliver loves to tell me that he’s so glad I was born, because when he was the youngest, he would get the worst of Jackson’s ass blasts.
It was normal for me to be woken up in bed with one of their butts pointed in my face. The second I’d realized what I was looking at, I’d hear the fart sputtering at me, and I would jump back, saying “ew” and moaning, trying to get away from the stink cloud that would hit me no matter what. It was normal for me to be laying on the ground watching TV and suddenly feel weight against the back of my head, and then hear and feel a fart vibrating into my hair. Aiden likes to call that “shampoot”.
Jackson was above all, the worst. He’s free to fart on whoever he wants, but most often he’ll only burp at the others. We’d be having lunch, he’d burp and blow it at one of their faces. We’d laugh, they’d groan in disgust. But he seemed to save nearly all of his gas for me personally.
Once, when I was really young, I was playing around on my bed. The bed frame had a crevice in the middle that was just big enough for me to squeeze through, and so I would pretend I was a criminal escaping prison. While I was playing, I’d twisted at an awkward angle and got my chest stuck in the frame. My head and upper half was laying on the bed, my arms and legs were sticking out from the end. I started freaking out, crying for help. Jackson rushed in, “What’s up little buddy? You ok?” All of my brothers had dark hair, but Jackson was the oldest and the hairiest. His chest, arms, and legs were coated in black hair.
“I’m stuck, help me out!”
I saw the evil grin cross his face, “Sure thing bro. Gimme a sec, I want to unwind.”
He didn’t pronounce it as “unwind,” but rather “un-wind”, like deflating. My eyes widened, I kept saying “NO, no no no no!!” But it was too late. He had picked up my blanket, dropped it over my head, and then looking up, I saw his lower half stick under the blanket, his shorts covered butt pointed at my face.
PRPTRPTRPTP
He farted over and over. My arms and legs flailed from the end of the bed. I screamed, he laughed, he watched TV while I was stuck in the Dutch oven.
That’s the kind of brother Jackson was. He loved making me suffer through his farts.
The best/worst example of this was whenever we played Grizzly Bear. I remember the first time I played that game well.
“Hey Noah,” I was sitting on the couch when I heard Jackson say my name. I turned my head and saw him and the rest of my brothers standing over me, their arms folded. “We’re gonna play Grizzly Bear. And you’re it.”
Grizzly Bear was a game of his invention, that he started playing with Aiden when it was just the two of them. Then they both played against Liam. And then Oliver. And now they play it against me.
It was basically hide and seek. Jackson was the “grizzly bear”, and the youngest brother was always “it”. Whoever was “it” had to hide, and if he could stay hidden for ten minutes, he wins. If he’s found…
Well, the reason it’s called Grizzly Bear is because Jackson was the hairiest of us all. He’s always been hairy. And being the top tier farter in the hierarchy of gas, he loves to point out how hairy his ass is.
“It’s almost 3. You have to hide for fifteen minutes.” He explained to me, my head tilted, like a curious dog, “and if we can’t find you by 3:15, then you win.”
Liam cut in, “But none of us have ever won this game. So don’t expect it.”
Jackson continued, “If we find you, then the Grizzly Bear gets to sit on you.”
And when I didn’t understand, he turned around and pulled his pants down. His ass was covered in a furry crop of black hair, “If we find you, your face becomes the Grizzly Bear’s seat.”
In a panic, I jumped up and ran off to hide. I heard my brothers laugh behind me while Jackson counted down from 100 out loud.
100 seconds to hide. I hated Jackson’s farts. They always smelled so bad. To think that he would hold me down and sit his bare butt on my face...no, I didn’t want that to happen. I needed to find the best hiding spot possible.
The thing about this game was that, even though it technically only needs Jackson and the youngest brother, all of the brothers older than the youngest would help Jackson look. So when it was just Jackson, Aiden, and Liam, Aiden would help Jackson look. With each new brother, the former youngest would become a member of the Grizzly Bear search party. That meant that I had to hide from all four of my older brothers. I was playing the most difficult version of the game: a little kid trying to outsmart his four oldest brothers who would be looking all over the house for fifteen minutes. My heart was racing. There was no way I could stay hidden for fifteen minutes from all of them. But I needed to try: I didn’t want to become Jackson’s seat.
I remember hiding in my dad’s closet, behind his suit jackets. I thought it was the best place, since none of us were allowed in there. I couldn’t count how often Oliver called me a goodie two shoes. None of them would expect me to hide in the forbidden bedroom of our parents.
The minutes went by. I heard my brothers call my name, laugh, shuffle around the house, moving around furniture, opening doors, footsteps everywhere. My heart was pounding and my ears were burning red. I had no idea how to check how long I’d been hiding, and how many more minutes I had. I was afraid that if they didn’t find me, they’d play a new round anyway. I gasped when the thought came; the thought that no matter what, sooner or later, Jackson WOULD sit on my face with his naked butt. Only a matter of time. I started to cry out of anxiety.
I sat in the darkness of my dad’s closet, hugging my knees, waiting for the inevitable. Minutes passed, I kept hearing my brothers searching around the house. The’d cleared through the ground floor, and I heard two of them walking around the upstairs floor. They’re probably going through all the rooms. They were going to find me eventually.
Dread was hanging in my stomach. Dreading the stink. How gross would it feel? I’d never felt Jackson’s naked butt against me...what would a naked fart against my face feel like? How bad would the smell be? I was trembling.
I jumped when the door to my parents room opened. I heard Aiden, “Oh Noah...the Grizzly is getting tired and wants to pop a squat.” I held my breath. I could barely see Aiden’s shadow pass the closet door. I think he fell to his knees and was looking under the bed, “And he tells me he had a lot of nachos this afternoon, and he’s got a literal buttload of nacho farts to feed you.”
The thought made me want to puke.
His shadow covered the crack in the door. I kept my hand over my mouth and nose. My heart was skipping beats.
“Noah, are you in there?” He laughed. I didn’t move. “It’s only been ten minutes. If you’re in here that means you’re about to get one hell of a stink face.”
I clenched my eyes shut. I couldn’t avoid it anymore. The closet door swung open. In a last minute panic, I jumped to my feet to sprint past him. I don’t know what my plan was, maybe I thought I could run to my bedroom and lock the door. But he was too fast. He grabbed my arm. I started screaming, trying to fight him off, but he wrapped his arms around me and picked me up.
“FOUND HIM!!!” He shouted, carrying me out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
“NO, PLEASE DON’T,” I couldn’t help but cry.
“We’ve all had to suffer through this, Noah,” Aiden laughed, “Quit being a baby and take your punishment like a man.”
I gulped. Jackson came up the stairs from the basement, an evil grin on his face. He let out a little roar, “The Grizzly wins again!”
We were all back in the living room. Aiden, Liam, and Oliver had brought me to the ground, lying on my back, my head resting on a pillow. Liam and Oliver held my limbs down, so even if I tried to wrestle away, I knew I would be able to get up. Aiden had his hands on either side of my head, so I wouldn’t be able to turn away. I had no choice but to watch as Jackson stepped his feet on either side of my head. He was patting his stomach, “Oh, Noah, I think I picked the worst time to have you play this game. You have no idea how badly my guts have been grumbling this afternoon.”
I whimpered. He took a deep breath, a satisfied sigh, and then pulled his shorts down. Above me, his giant butt cheeks, covered in black hair, slowly lowered to my face. I scrunched up, cringing, watching his cheeks naturally separate and I got a glimpse of his butt hole through the thick hair in his crack. Then, his hands came to each cheek and spread them wider. Now, I was staring directly at his gaping butthole. The smell was foul, as bad as butt sweat always is. He hovered a few inches over my face. I held my breath, my cheeks puffed up, spitting out, shaking. My brothers were all laughing around me.
“Any last words?” He asked, looking down at me between his legs.
“...how long?” Was all I could get out. My voice cracked.
“That’s the best part: until you DIE”
He sat full weight onto my face before I could react. Immediately I started shaking around, trying to get my arms and legs free of my brother’s grasps. But there was no way to escape. I still held my breath, but Jackson squirmed a bit and grinded his hairy butt into my face, his hairs were tickling the inside of my nose and without sniffing I could still smell his butt funk. I tried twisting my neck to free my face from stink hell, but Aiden was holding on tight. I felt his hole pucker up against my nose,
PRTPRTPRPTRPTRPTPPPPP
My brothers cheered, probably thinking of all the times they had to live through what I was experiencing, glad that they would never have Jackson fart directly up their noses ever again. And yes, even though I didn’t sniff, he had farted into my nostrils and that had forced the stink into my lungs. I coughed and gagged, gasping for air but the only air I could get was coming from his butt.
PRTPRTPRPPPP
I was getting dizzy. The stink was so bad sure, but I kept gasping and sucking in his farts. I needed air, I was literally choking to death on his farts. I could hear them all laughing, I felt Jackson shake and scrub his ass into my face. It was like the worst face massage anyone could ask for. He shifted and I felt his hole press against my lips. I didn’t realize that was where my lips were until I felt him push again,
PRTPRTPRPTRPTRPTRPTR
The fart had broke my lips open and shot down over my tongue and into my throat. I gagged violently, accidentally swallowing his fart. I was so dizzy, so sick to my stomach, so humiliated listening to my brothers laugh like hyenas.
“I think he’s fading away,” I heard Oliver say. And he was right. I was starting to see stars. The hands that held me down moved off of me, but even though they were free, I could barely move them. I tried to bring my arms up to push him off, but I was so dizzy from the farts that my hands only weakly grabbed onto his thighs.
“Aw, I think he’s falling asleep,” Jackson shifted once more and his hole had closed around the tip of my nose. The smell was unbareable.
“Nighty night, fart face.”
RPTRPTRPTRPTRPTRPTRPRTPPPPPPPPPPPP
Sucking in his fart as a last attempt to breathe, I’d passed out. Everything went black.
…
Jackson said that the first time he’d ever played Grizzly Bear, when he stink-faced Aiden into unconsciousness, he actually freaked out and thought he’d killed him. When he realized that he had the power to knock kids out with just his ass fumes, he became an evil monster.
And so my childhood, up through my teen years, were full of this game. College aged Jackson had no problem saying “Who’s up for a game of Grizzly Bear?” He was on the school’s wrestling team, so even if I said no, he would fight me down and straddle my face anyway. I had to try hiding at least.
But that’s where something major happened.
First, I realized I was gay. But second...I realized that I actually enjoyed being the victim of the Grizzly Bear game.
The first dozen times I would tremble in fear, dread being knocked out by Jackson’s farts. But the more often we played, the more I accepted my fate as the eternal fart sniffer, and the more that I was actually welcoming it. I’d gotten used to how his butt smelled. I’d become almost like a connoisseur of my older brother’s farts, like fine wine, I would sniff them and see how different foods had effected his gastronomical tract.
I had fallen in love with his asshole.
That’s why, even in high school, I would hide in a basic hiding spot; under a bed, in a closet, behind a couch, and when I was found, I would fight back and scream, but that was all for show. I’d giggle and moan in disgust, mock fear, but it was actually in excitement. My brothers would hold me down. I’d shift to hide my boner as best as I possibly could. Did any of them notice my hard ons? They had to have noticed. They all must have known that somehow, I’d turned into a fart sniffing faggot, and they probably thought they were doing me a favor by forcing me to play this childhood game.
I’d stare up in anticipation as my oldest brother’s beefy, hairy wrestler ass came over me, spread open, and rested over my face. I loved his stink. I loved his ass hair. I loved his ass hole. I loved snorting up his farts, until I was put to sleep.
To this day I jerk off to the memories of Jackson farting up my nose. He’s too old for that stuff now, even though we laugh about it. I’m able to recreate the rush by meeting up with other men on fart-fetish forums, telling them my stories, and telling them I’d love to play Grizzly Bear with them some time. I’d even driven across state lines so I could play Grizzly Bear with my online friends. We’d make sure to play two rounds, so each of us could be the Bear, and the sniffer.
My brother had turned me into a fart sniffing faggot. I have no idea how I’ll ever be able to thank him.
I arrived on campus, my senior year of college, to check in to my dorm room. I know what you’re thinking, a dorm room your senior year? Well I had just transferred schools. For my senior year I could finally transfer from community college to my local state school! And while I didn’t want to be away from my friends for my senior year I knew it was the right decision. It did make me nervous that a bunch of people I went to high school with went here but I figured I’d keep to myself and avoid them if I ever saw any of them.
When I arrived at my dorm building and told the woman at check in my name she gave me a baffled look. “Charlie Hoover? Sorry love, you’re in the wrong spot. Says you’re living in apartment 2H”. This was startling to me. “Uh sorry are you sure? I registered to live in a single in this dorm building months ago”
The woman at the desk knitted her eyebrows and looked at the screen in front of her. “Hmm that is odd. According to these records you were moved to apartment 2H just last night.” The woman put her index finger to her lips and then just shrugged it off. “Oh well. Off ya go!” She smiled almost dismissively.
I hesitated and almost walked away, but thankfully I’ve been working in my confidence. “Sorry uhm actually could you see about moving me back to my original room? I don’t have any friends here and don’t really want to live in an apartment with strangers…”
The woman gave me a soft look and replied “I can’t do that love, especially since all of the dorms are booked up. I suggest you find your apartment and then write a nice email to the housing department in a couple weeks once you’re settled in.” She smiled me away again and this time I went with the current.
Back in my car I was panicking as I typed my new apartment into maps. Why was I moved to an apartment, and last night too?
My car slowly meandered towards the back ends of campus where the upperclassmen apartments were. Driving through the parking lot I saw various students unpacking their cars with friends. Finally I arrived at row H where my apartment would be. And to my surprise most of the students unloading there were tall jocks. Was this the athletics block?
I gathered my two suitcases and my back pack and began to trek across the lot to the apartments, scanning them for 2H. Once I spotted it I approached and used my key to open the door.
Inside there was music bumping and the apartment smelled… well let’s just say it smelled lived in. I climbed the stairs dragging my bags along with me and once reaching the top I saw three guys. The first two were tall muscular jocks. One blonde and one with dark brown hair. They were intimidating in their own right but it was the third guy who caused me to lose my breath.
Standing across from me was my high school bully, Brogan Thorpe. Except now Brogan was massive. I’ve heard of the freshmen twenty but it looks like Brogan got a freshmen twenty, sophomore twenty, and junior twenty. Not only was Brogan chubbier in his face and body but he now had a full greasy beard.
Once Brogan spotted me a huge grin spread across his face and he shouted “there he is! Man of the hour! The Fart Hoover!!”
I was panicking again. I wanted to run but I had no where to go. How was this happening?! The two other guys laughed at me along with Brogan. I was in shock as Brogan walked across the room with purpose. Brogan gripped my neck with his big calloused hand and forcefully guided me away from the stairs and deeper into his den. Or I guess I should say our den.
“Trev, Greg, this is the famous Fart Hoover.” Brogan declared as he pushed me down on the couch and then sat down next to me. Trevor, the blonde, gave me a dopey smile and waved to me. While Greg narrowed his eyes at me sort of scaring me.
I spoke up for myself for the first time since entering. My voice like a mouse. “My name is Charlie…”
Brogan laughed at me again and then threw his giant arm over my shoulder. He pulled me in closer to him. I was overwhelmed by his BO. “No need to be modest Hoover. The boys know all about your fart sucking passion. His real name is Fart Hoover”. Brogan declared, emphasizing the world real.
My face burned crimson. How is this happening? “H-how i-is this happ-happening” i was shivering in fear.
“Awww buddy!” Brogan began to jab at my ribs. I winced and tried to pulled away but his arm over my shoulder held me close. “My uncle’s the Dean. So when i found out you were transferring i had him move you in with us. Last minute too so you had no way to get out of it. And now you’re here all year and you get to be my full time Fart Hoover. More than you ever were in high school” Brogan Trevor and Greg all laughed
“We had beans for breakfast for you Fart Hoover!” Trevor interjected with cheer. It was mortifying to hear some guy I just met already call me by my humiliating high school nickname.
In high school Brogan was considered the hottest most popular guy. But early in our freshmen year, at a party, Ashley Lieu one of the most popular girls in our grade said she thought i was more attractive than Brogan. I remember feeling confident for the first time ever in that moment but Brogan shut that down quickly.
“Him? Nah, no way. What’s your name?” Brogan asked me dismissively. “I’m Charlie Hoover” I reached my hand out to Brogan which he ignored. “Hoover?!” Brogan laughed and the rest of the group joined in with him. “Here i got something for you to vacuum up, Hoover”. I was taken aback by his statement. Brogan stood up and pushed his butt right in my face ripping a loud long squeaker on my face. “Come on deep whiffs Fart Hoover!” Brogan didn’t move off my face until i took deep inhales through my nose.
The guys in the group all laughed while the girls shouted things like “ewww”. It was safe to say after that Ashley Lieu did not find me attractive anymore. That was also the last party i was invited to for all of high school. And from then on Brogan made it his mission to fart on my face whenever he could. All of high school i was known as the Fart Hoover. Brogan and all his buddies would pin me down in the l locker room or in the bathroom just to make me sniff ass. Sometimes they’d corner me after school and make me sniff each of their butts and farts. The worst was when Brogan would ‘sneak’ me into his wrestling practices so him and some teammates could practice pins on me. It was disgusting, humiliating, and took me a long time to get over…
Brogan ripped a brutal sounding wet monster of a fart on the couch next to me pulling me from my self induced flashback. “Awww Bro!” Trevor and Greg burst out laughing along with Brogan at the fart. I stared at Brogan in horror watching his scrunched up face shift to pleasure as he finished farting. And no sooner than finishing Brogan’s arm slithered off my body and repossessed my neck. Brogan stood from the couch quickly and forced my face directly into the cushion he was just sitting on.
The stink overwhelmed me instantly. Oh my fuck. It smelled of stinky eggs. “Deep whiffs!!” Brogan shouted as he smeared my face into the warm cushion. I don’t know if it was his body warmth or the fart but between the heat and the stink I felt like i was suffocating. Regardless, like i was on autopilot i began to sniff the fart with earnest. Sucking the cushion with passion.
Brogan, Trevor, and Greg cackled at my eager fart sniffing like they were animals. “Oh my god Bro! You weren’t kidding!” Trevor shouted and Greg added with disbelief “that’s so disgusting dude”
I sniffed and i sniffed until I could it smell any more of Brogan’s rotten egg fart. And shortly after i stopped sniffing Brogan released his hold on my neck.
Instead of standing I slipped down onto my knees and looked up at the three jocks in the room with me pathetically. Trevor was on me in a second. “Fuck bro I’m not waiting. I’ve clenching my cheeks all morning. It’s aboutta smell good”. Trevor jokingly raised the octave of his voice as he said the word good. Trevor had his hand in my hair and yanked my face into his perky gym shorts covered butt.
Trevor’s butt smelled musky and sour. “Oo that feels weird” he remarked at the feeling of my face being mustered in his butt crack. “Looks gay as fuck” Greg said sounding disgusted.
With no warning a deep bassy fart bellowed out of Trevor’s butt and onto my face. Instinctively I began to whiff and whiff and whiff. Burning my sinuses with Trevor’s fart. I gagged but continued to sniff. The guys all laughed at the funny sounding fart and even more at my pathetic deep sniffing. “Damn you love this shit Fart Hoover. Just wait until after one of my hockey practices” Trevor remarked.
After Trevor let go of my hair and stepped away from me I couldn’t even bring myself to look up. I was disgusted with myself. I’d worked so hard the last three years. I was finally becoming a man but in a matter of seconds here I was again. Nothing a but a Fart Hoover.
“Let’s go Greg! You talk big all the time about how your farts are the worst. Prove it with Fart Hoover.” Brogan goaded Greg to take a turn with me.
Greg scowled. “Yea my farts are the nastiest! But this is weird. I don’t want some losers face in my butt”
Brogan reached out and grabbed my face, squishing my cheeks between his gross fingers. Directing my gaze upwards towards Greg. “Aww come on dude. It’s not weird he has a face made for farting on!”
This made Greg laugh a little. “Okay, I guess I have to agree his face does look perfect for farts.”
Brogan let go of my face. “That’s the spirit!”
I didn’t even want to start thinking about what it could possibly mean that my face looked perfect for getting farted on.
Greg approached me again wearing his darkened look. Eyes narrowed nose slightly scrunched. Looking at me like I was disgusting to him. “You want farts, Hoover?” He said with an aggression. Nearly spitting on me.
I glanced at Brogan and he raised his eyebrows looking at me sternly. I knew what the right answered was. My voice shook.
“Yes please”
Greg smirked and then turned around presenting his butt to me. Greg then pulled down the back of his sweatpants and boxers exposing his bare ass to my face. Greg’s butt cheeks were covered in thick black hair and long wiry hairs tangled out of the whole length of his butt crack. I gasped at the sight while Trevor and Brigham howled with laughter. “Might as well give him an authentic experience, buns out” Greg shrugged.
“Dude you were calling us gay a minute ago and now you’re letting the pussy touch your bare ass?!” Trevor teased
Greg turned mooning his friends. “Fuck off, if your ass was half as hairy as mine you’d he using it to your advantage too”. Greg shook his butt at them and then turned back to my awaiting face.
The miasma of heat emanating from Greg’s butt had me feeling woozy. His hand gripped my hair and guided my face into his butt crack. Greg’s butt crack was so hairy and so damp I felt sick. He rubbed my face around in there a bit too! Wiping his butt sweat all over me. And then he unleashed a guttural blast. It lasted so long and the sound was squishy and gross! I was struggling to break free of his grip and get my nose away from the stink but Greg wouldn’t let me go. I gagged and cried. But more importantly I sniffed! I sniffed as hard as my nose would allow! I was the Fart Hoover! This is my purpose! No! Wait that’s wrong! My name is Charlie!
Oh fuck I was gonna be sick. Greg’s butt and fart were disgusting and I couldn’t stop sniffing!
Finally letting me go I slipped from Greg’s hairy butt. My face was wet. Be it sweat or butt slime. “So gross dude” Greg remarked as he pulled his pants back up and walked away from me into the kitchen.
I felt so defiled. “Alright Hoover, follow me. Let’s get you unpacked in your bedroom”. Surprisingly, Brogan grabbed both of my suitcases for me and carried them back towards my bedroom for me. I sheepishly followed behind him.
“See ya in a few fart face” Trevor called behind me.
Arriving in my room Brogan had already begun to unpack my clothes for me. He did so carelessly. Mixing underwear with shirts and jeans with socks. I’d have to reorganize later. Brogan glanced at me continuing to unpack my bags with a speed. “Close the door and make your bed.” He demanded. And I obeyed.
I hated letting him boss me around. I thought I was better than this and yet…
I pulled my sheets from my bag and started making my bed. By the time I finished Brogan had also ‘unpacked’ the rest of my clothing. No quicker than I tucked in my last blanket Brogan had pinned me on my bed. His massive chubby body squishing me into the mattress with ease. Our faces were inches apart and he stared at me with that disgusting sadistic lust. Brogan leaned in slightly closer and then belched right into my face. It was wet and sounded horrible so close up. And the stench was rotten.
Our eyes remained locked and I whimpered at Brogan. He responded by lightly blowing his burp air into my face. And I sniffed! Oh fuck I sniffed so deeply. It smelled so nasty! I gagged under his body weight. How could someone’s burp smell so badly!? Does he ever brush his teeth?!
Brogan chuckled at me. “Good Fart Hoover”. Brogan then lifted himself off my body but pinned my wrists with his hands and slid his crotch directly over my face. Brogan then began to lightly hump and tea bag my face. His navy blue mesh gym shorts were so musky and provided little barrier. “I’ve missed you Hoover” Brogan said softly as he continued to thrust on my face. He then slid forward so his butt was on my face. “Please, you’re so disgusting!” I cried beneath him.
“I’m disgusting?!” Brogan sounded offended. “Nah I think you’ve got us mixed up bud” And I heard a hot silent fart hiss from his cheeks. It burned so badly. The stench was of eggs hot boiled stinky eggs. I sniffed it all. I sniffed it all with a gusto. Brogan laughed at my inhales. “You’re disgusting Hoover”.
Brogan then readjusted himself so he was facing my feet. “Case in point. You missed me too huh?” Brogan said as he flicked my rock hard dick that was nearly sticking out of my khaki shorts. That’s right…. There’s a part of me I’ve been keeping secret.
After Brogan had first farted on me back in the day it turned into a regular thing. He farted on me so much, every day multiple times a day, that I started to find him and his farts arousing. I think it was a defense mechanism. Brogan had literally conditioned me to fall in love with his stinky ass and nasty farts. No matter how much I told myself I hated farts they’d still turn me on.
And Brogan knew what he did to me too. When we were in public or with his friends his bullying was cruel but in private, just the two of us, he got erotic. There were times when he’d make me touch myself while forcing me to sniff his farts. A part of me even believed for a bit that Brogan liked me and farting on me in the same way I liked him. But that was all too good to be true right? Brogan had numerous girlfriends over the years. And yet even when he was in a relationship he’d send me snaps of himself farting with captions like “go jerk off to this Hoover”.
I spent my formative years obsessing and fearing Brogan. But after spending the last three years apart and getting some therapy I thought I’d finally moved on from him and his farts. I hadn’t even jerked off to anything fart related in over a year! I was so proud of myself for finally making a man of myself. All for it to crumble beneath Brogan’s swampy ass.
A deep gurgly fart grumbled from Brogan’s butt. It vibrated my entire face. “Fuck, Hoover. Sniff that shit” Brogan moaned and began to lightly bounce on my face. I’d missed this so much. I inhaled with all my might which caused me to gag aggressively.
Brogan hopped off my face and the bed. Once standing he yanked his shorts and boxers down. I looked over at him, now just wearing his stained tank top. Brogan’s massive thick hairy thighs and beefy butt in full view and I was in love again. But of more important note Brogan’s dick was standing at full mast.
Brogan looked down at me and licked his lips and then began to rub his cock. “You’re gonna sniff mine, Greg and Trev’s farts every day Hoover. You’re going to suck them all up like the good Fart Hoover you are.” Brogan squeezed his dick and his eyes rolled back. “I’m going to make you eat my farts every day and you’re going to thank me for it”. I couldn’t believe Brogan was jerking off in front of me. He’d never gone this far before.
I couldn’t resist any longer, my hand slipped into my shorts and I began to rub my dick as well. Brogan continued. “I’m gonna fuck so many chicks on campus and afterwards you’ll be here to sniff my sweaty ass and farts. That’s all you’re good for!”
We were both jerking off with a ferocity now. Brogan is perfect. I love his chubby belly. i love how much he stinks. I love how mean he is to me. “And you’re not allowed to have sex Hoover. Not that you could get anyone in the first place. But you belong to me. My farts are your sex”
This made me cum in my shorts. Brogan was right his farts are my sex and they always have been. I’ve never been with a girl or a guy. And despite trying to find new sexual interests this last year the truth I’ve always known is that nothing turns me on like farts, like Brogan’s farts.
“Your farts are my sex!” I moaned out like a pathetic bitch. It was the loudest I’d been since entering my new home. I seemed to surprise Brogan but excite him. His cock now slurping as he slid up and down it. And then he came. Shooting cum all over my bed. He continued to jerk himself off until his dick deflated. And then he wiped his slimy hand on one of my pillows.
Brogan leaned over my face, his balls grazing me until he settled his bare ass on my nose. His butt was sweaty and he slowly moved it around on my face. Almost like he was trying to pet my nose with his butt crack hair. “I’m happy you’re here Hoover.”
I was mortified and disgusted with both myself and the state of Brogan’s nasty butt which he was smearing on my face. But more importantly I couldn’t have been happier. And I was looking forward to however Brogan would humiliate me next!
Tags/Warnings: Face Farting, Gay Face Farting, Willing Victim, Underwear Farting, Semi-Public
You lay across the counter, another boring day at the pharmacy. You’re scrolling through Instagram when you have to stop and stare at a picture your high school crush, Vinnie, posted. It’s a side view of him lifting a barbell and it highlights his arms, and that ass that you always wanted to be near in high school. The caption read, “It looks like leg day has been really paying off.” You, of course, double tap the photo.
“Yeah, that was a pretty good photo.” You look up to see Vinnie standing in front of you giving you his signature smile. All of your high school memories come rushing back and you quickly remember why he was your crush. 6’3”, charming smile, hot body, and he was honestly one of the nicest guys in town. “Not to brag or anything.” His smile disarms any awkwardness you might have felt.
“What brings you in?” You ask putting your phone away, giving him your full attention.
“I’m here for a prescription.”
“Gotcha.” You go ahead and enter his name into the system and quickly grab his prescription. “So how’s life going?” You make small talk as you scan the barcode of the prescription bag.
“Oh you know, just trying to survive the end of the world.” You both chuckle. “But my girlfriend broke up with me so... trying to get over that.”
“Sorry to hear it man. It’s $15.12.”
“Yeah, she said I was going to the gym too much. And she said I was too gassy for her.” He pulls out a credit card and hands it to you.
“Gassy?” You raise your eyebrow as you take his card.
“Yeah. It’s probably the protein shakes because they go right through me. But imagine being broken up with because you’re too gassy.” You shake your head, not able to imagine it.
“Sounds like to me you need someone who’d appreciate your gassiness.” You give him a wink as you hand him his card back and prescription. You then go back to leaning onto the counter, elbows on the counter with your head being cradled by your heads.
“Is that so?” He looks you up and down briefly before leaning onto the counter himself. “Do you know anyone, within a, oh I don’t know, one minute radius because I got some big ones brewing.”
“Hmm,” You pretend to think about it. “Carla I’m going on break!” You yell to the pharmacist on duty. You walk out from the employee section and gesture towards Vinnie to follow you into the exam room.
He doesn’t miss a beat, he follows and you close the door and lock it. Before he even says anything you are on your knees pulling at his gym shorts. His boxer briefs are a bit sweaty, most likely he came straight from the gym.It doesn’t stop you from smashing your nose into his musky crack and taking a deep whiff. It’s intoxicating, and you let out this small moan that just makes Vinnie laugh.
“I haven’t even farted yet.” He jokes as he lets you inhale his scent.
“Sorry, sorry, you just smell…”
PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT
He lets a harsh fart that interrupts your sentence. You don’t even try to finish the sentence, instead you just focus your energy on inhaling the toxic air. It’s bad, and you kind of understand why his girlfriend broke up with him.The smell reminds you of a skunk and it’s just pure rotten ass fumes. You can’t help the fact that you’re so painfully erect.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Vinnie chuckles. “I just couldn’t hol’ it in anymore.”
“It’s good.” Your voice is strained but you give him a thumbs up.
“Man, you must of inhaled all of it, because I didn’t get a whiff of it up here.” He wiggles his body a little bit bouncing you in between his butt cheeks. “Shit I just may need to keep you around as my fart vacuum.”
“No complaints here.” You pull your nose out his ass and begin to stand up causing him to push you back down.
“I didn’t say I was finished.” He wraps his hand in your hair before pulling you back against his sweaty undies.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT
This one was even worse than the previous. It was horrid and you honestly kind of wanted to pull your face away. But before you even get a chance to appreciate that last bomb, he’s hitting you with more gas.
He wasn’t joking when his girlfriend said he was gassy. You did your best to keep up with his butt bombs, but you feel yourself starting to get dizzy from only being able to breathe in his rotten egg smelling farts. You forcibly pull away from his ass and take a deep breath in before you push your nose back in against his clothed hole.
PFFFFFFFF PFFFFFTT
He lifts his leg as two squeakers expel from his nasty ass. “Fuck.” You groan as you keep taking loud huffs. “Jesus christ, how do you have so much gas?” You pant as you pull away from his ass again.
“I’m telling ya, it’s gotta be the protein shakes.” You try to catch your breath.
“Fuck man.” You wipe your forehead where there’s sweat beading on your face.
“You want more?” He’s biting his lip like he’s holding a big one in.
“Hell yeah!” You don’t waste any time getting back into position.
“It’s a big one, do you think you can take it?” He warns.
“Take your best shot, big guy.” You give a playful smack against his ass.
“Your funeral.” He starts grunting, and for a moment you’re honestly worried that he’s about to shit himself.
He lets out the loudest and nastiest fart you’ve ever heard. And the smell is god awful. Somehow mixing all sorts of horrid scents that you didn’t think were possible. At first you smelled rotten eggs, but then somewhere around the 5 second mark it went to old garbage, and then another few seconds and it was sewage. There wasn’t any way you couldn’t pull away from that.
You are hacking up a lung as Vinnie laughs at you. “I warned you man.”
“Fuck. I didn’t know you were that brutal.” You gag, somehow getting a taste of his nasty brew. “I-I don’t think I can take anymore.”
“That’s fine.” He reaches down and pulls his shorts up. “It’s not every day I get to bomb someone.”
“Well if you were dating me, that wouldn’t be a problem.” You try to turn the situation in your favor, but you’re still trying to catch your breath.
“Hm, how bout we get coffee first.”
“Deal.” You say as he helps you get back on your feet.
“You think you can go back to work?” You give a thumbs up as he helps walk back to the employee area.
“What did you do to him?” Clara takes you from Vinnie and then scrunches her face. “God you stink.” She moves her face as far away as she can. “God, that’s awful, you need to go home.” She kind of pushes you away and Vinnie catches you again. You both kind of laugh before Vinnie helps you out to your car.
“You free tomorrow?” You ask nervously.
“Yeah, meet me at the Piñata Cafe at 10:00.”
“Cool.” You give him a small wave.
When your door is closed and his back is to you, you start dancing. You’ve got a date with Vinnie, your high school dream almost fulfilled.
With me being 25 and bi, I quickly noticed my next-door neighbors after moving into my new apartment. First, there is the curvy, beautiful woman with nice tits. Then there’s the six-foot-four guy who looks like he bench presses city buses. The most noticeable thing about him is his fat bubble butt. It’s like he’s always carrying around two basketballs in the back of his pants wherever he goes. They bounce and jiggle as he walks.
The guy’s name is Randy, and the woman’s name is Sarah. Both of them are hot.
It's obvious to me now that they are a couple, but an hour ago, Sarah easily convinced me that they were only siblings.
Sarah and I are now naked in her bed, and feeling good after doing the deed. She’s resting her head on my chest, and I have an arm wrapped around her.
We’re enjoying the quiet moment when suddenly, the bedroom door is kicked open. Randy is standing in the doorway, huffing in rage like a bull ready to charge. He’s wearing a dirty tank top, jeans, and brown steel-toe boots.
If looks could kill, Sarah and I would be six feet under right now.
I open my mouth, hoping to de-escalate the situation, but Sarah acts first.
She jumps out of the bed, screaming bloody murder, leaving me alone on the bed in only my boxers. She’s shaking and crying.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Randy! I just realized he’s been gaslighting me. He manipulated me into sleeping with him. I’m the victim!”
I’m shocked into silence. That’s the dumbest defense for cheating that I’ve ever heard.
I guess Randy must be dumb as hell because he’s staring daggers at me.
Sarah runs out of the room, with fake tears streaming down her face, leaving me alone with a pissed off monster.
“You done fucked with the wrong woman, bitch” he growls. His gravely voice has me going pale.
I can’t speak; I never thought I’d be in a situation like this. I guess he’s taking my silence as an admission of guilt.
He pulls off his sweaty tank and tosses it to the side. He kicks off his boots before he starts walking towards me, still on the bed. When he reaches the foot of the bed, he undoes his jeans, letting them drop and pool at his feet. He’s wearing a tight pair of grey boxer briefs that are drenched with sweat.
He climbs onto the bed and crawls up my body. The rage in his eyes has me paralyzed and unable to speak.
“You’re about to smell why the boys call me Rancid Randy.”
Next thing I know, he turns around and his fat ass is hovering right over my face. The sweaty fabric of his underwear is clinging to his round, meaty globes.
The last thing I see before everything goes dark is the large sweat patch running down the crack of his ass.
WHAM
He drops his bulbous, sweaty rump, taking a seat on my face. My face is being smothered under an over-encumbering amount of ass fat.
The musky smell coming from his swamp ass is tear-inducing.
I groan from the scent.
I both feel and hear him darkly snickering above me. “Oh, you wanna cry? Rancid Randy will give you something to cry about.”
At first, I don’t know what he’s going on about, until:
RRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT
The guy rips a thunderous, 5-second fart, point-blank in my face. It’s strong enough to rattle my skull.
Rancid Randy is a fitting name–his fart stinks of rancid meat and rotten eggs. The smell is atrocious. It has me coughing and gagging.
“Ah, damn, that felt good. I’m glad I had Mexican for lunch with extra beans. Doubt you agree… GGH”
MMMMMMMMMHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUFFFFFFFFF
He vents out another rancid-smelling fart in my face, and that’s when I try to struggle.
I try to buck him off me, but he shimmies his hips, bearing his ass down harder onto my face. I bring up my hands trying to push him off, but it does little more than massage his doughy globes.
“Haha, that’s it, keep on uselessly struggling. All it will earn you is more of my Rancid Rockets… HGH”
MMMMMBBBBBAAAAAAPPPPPPP
My voice is muffled beneath his meaty posterior, but I get out, “You got it all wrong, man. Your girlfriend came up to me and said she was single and you were her brother.” It’s hard to speak when every time I part my lips, his ass fat tries to pour into my open mouth.
My explanation only angers him.
“What? You're calling my girl a liar? Suck on this, fart-bitch!”
BBBBBBBRRRRRRRRVVVVVVVVTTTTTTTTT
FFFFFFFLLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPP
DDDDDDOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAAABBBBBBB
Randy pushes out three consecutive farts that wreck me. He aggressively grinds his butt on my face, as if he’s trying to ingrain his ass musk into my pores.
Out of desperation, I punch him in the side of his stomach, but all that does is help him dislodge a big fart.
BBBBBBBRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOHHHHHHHTTTTTTTTTT
He rips a 12-second fart right in my face that reeks of raw sewage. It has me coughing and my eyes stinging.
He sighs and laughs, “Ah, haha, don’t blame me for that one. That was all you, unlike this… FGH”
VVVVVVVVBBBBBBBLLLLLLPPPPPPP
Another wave of his nauseating fumes washes over my face. It puts me in a coughing fit, weakening me. Randy uses the opportunity to trap my arms by my sides, between his knees, as he straddles my chest.
I now feel completely helpless.
“Ah, you’ll be lucky if I let you leave here alive and don’t kill you with my farts after what you did to my girl!”
He grounds his titanic rear end harder down on me, working my face in between his cheeks. Through the material of his sweaty briefs, I feel my nose pressing against his hole.
It’s silent, but I feel his pucker open and his warm, intestinal wind heating my nose.
The smell is horrendous–like rancid meat swimming in raw sewage.
“Haha, ah yeah, breathe it in bitch, breathe in Rancid Randy. Every time you even think of my girl, you’re gonna remember my rank ass and my butt bombs.”
I ironically find my second wind and flail harder beneath him. This seems to amuse Randy.
“Oh, still struggling, I see. Seems like Rancid Randy’s gonna have to break you like a wild bronco. Thankfully, I have the ass and farts for the job.”
I think it’s over when he rises off my face. But soon enough, his big ass comes crashing back down on my face like a meteor, making me groan. And the impact is accompanied by…
RRRRRRRRPPPPPPPMMMMMMMDDDDDDD
He isn’t done.
He lifts his ass off my face.
“Yeah, take it bitch.”
He slams his ass back down and…
VVVVVVVLLLLLLLLOOOOOPPPPPPPPP
My tormentor repeats this torturous cycle.
Up.
“This ain’t my first rodeo. Rancid Randy has broken down plenty of assholes, and you won’t be the last.”
Wham
RRRRRRHHHHHHHBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT
Up.
“Choke on my nasty farts.”
Wham
PPPPPPPRRRRRRRRWWWWWWFFFFFFF
Up.
“Get crushed by my big, heavy booty.”
Wham
MMMMMMMUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPPP
Up.
“Anyone who messes with my girl has to deal with my swamp ass. Now Suffer!”
The noxious smell has my eyes and nose running. Randy’s repeated butt-drops have my face feeling like it’s been Mike Tyson’s personal punching bag.
I aggressively thrash my head from side to side, trying to get my face out of his ass. I turn my head to the left, finally escaping, getting a few breaths of cool, semi-fresh air.
I take the opportunity to shout, “Get off of me, you psycho!”
I didn’t think it was possible, but he somehow became even more agitated.
“Psycho! Psycho! You fucked with my girl’s head, and you’re calling me a psycho.”
He lifts his ass off my face again. And then to my horror, he peels down the back of his briefs. His fleshy, bare moons, glistening with sweat, pour out of their confines and wobble ominously above my face.
“You’ve done it now. Now I’m really ticked off!”
Randy reaches down with both hands, spreading his cheeks. I’ve never seen anything more revolting. Hovering a foot over my face is his open crack. Inside is all sweaty and hairy, and dead center is his wrinkled pucker.
I start shaking my head. “No. No. You can’t do this to me. Help!”
He immediately shuts me up by dropping down, entombing my face in his sweaty and musky canyon of a crack.
The douche bag laughs, making his meaty orbs jiggle around my clamped face. “Don’t waste your breath; no one can hear you. No one can ever hear you in between Rancid Randy’s fat moons.”
PPPPPPWWWWWFFFFFFFFFDDDDDDDDD
MMMMMMLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP
RRRRRRRHHHHHHHHHHHDDDDDDFFFFFFF
He unleashes a barrage of trumpeting farts, point-blank in my face, putting me into another coughing fit. His ass and booming farts drown out my cries for help.
I try to struggle, but I can barely move my head anymore. There’s more than just fat in his brawny slabs. It feels like my head is caught in the jaws of life.
He rocks his ass on my face, getting comfortable. I give a muffled cry when it ends with my lips pressed against his asshole.
“You wanna kiss someone? Then kiss this big, nasty fella; he loves the attention.”
RRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLMMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBB
He pushes out a 6-second rumbly fart that has my lips vibrating. Some of his toxic fumes seep into my mouth, making me feel sick to my stomach.
He presses down harder and roughly gyrates his ass on my face, forcing my lips open with his hole.
“Hehe, oh yeah fart-bitch, things are about to get a lot worse for you. Eat my farts!... NGH”
BBBBBBBBVVVVVVVVVVVWWWWWWWDDDDDD
FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLMMMMMMMM
My cheeks and lungs inflate with his hellish ass gas. I’m choking and gagging on his noxious, intestinal vapors.
“Fuck man, how are those extra beans I had for lunch treating ya? Do you like it? Recycled through my booty?... GGH”
MMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBRRRRRRRR
PPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHDDDDDDDD
“Ah, good luck fucker, your face is going to be reeking of Rancid Randy’s swamp ass for weeks. You’re probably gonna have to wash your face thoroughly and daily for a month to get rid of my butt stank. You’re welcome… HGGH”
Who farts so much? It feels like it's been days, but it's only been a couple of minutes. This beast keeps rocketing one monstrous fart after another down my gullet. The final one is the longest, lasting well over 4 minutes alone.
My lungs feel like they will be forever tainted with his vile butt stink.
He rises off my face with a wet squelch. My face is drenched with his ass sweat, my tears, and my snot.
Next thing I know, I’m being pulled off the bed and onto my feet. He shoves my strewn-around clothes into my hands. He then grabs me by the back of the neck and practically drags me towards the front door.
He opens the door and tosses me out, on my knees. He towers over me, pointing an accusing finger at my face. “Let this be a warning: if you so much as eye my girl a little too long for my liking, you and my swampy ass are gonna spend a lot more personal time together.”
Randy wheels around. The back of his briefs is still pulled down, so he’s basically mooning me. His bare, sweaty cheeks are only a few feet away from my face.
I notice his hands curling at his sides, and I hear him taking a deep breath.
BBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPPPPP
Randy blasts me in the face with a 10-second-long, airy fart. It stinks of digested meat and garlic. And it has enough force to cause his pillowy mounds to ripple and blow my hair back.
I’m left coughing on my knees as he slams the door in my face. Thankfully, the hallway is empty, so no one sees me at my lowest point.
I stand and hobble to my door. I pull my key out of my jeans and retreat inside my apartment.
Things don’t end here, though. For the next few days, the couple fucks with me.
Whenever I pass Sarah alone in the hall, she shoots me a superior smirk, silently declaring she’s won. When I pass Randy, he glares at me, and without stopping, he swivels his hips and farts on me.
What the two don’t know is that I’m an investigative journalist. It was child's play to find Sarah’s multiple cheating partners over social media and take screenshots of them kissing.
I created a burner account and sent the pics to them and their mutual friends. Sarah’s now seen as a slut, and Randy is seen as a simp.
I sit back and enjoy the fireworks.
Every day, I hear them constantly screaming at each other through the walls, and I love it.
However, I’ve been dealing with a slight dilemma. In my head, I keep replaying Randy’s assault on me; the humiliation, his bare ass, and his farts. Every time I do, I feel a stirring in my crotch.
Maybe if I ignore it, it won’t mean anything.
Things come to a head two weeks later. I’m coming home from work and find the couple arguing outside their apartment. Randy is standing in the doorway of their apartment, and Sarah’s standing in the hallway. A box of stuff is separating the two.
“Are you seriously kicking me out for a few hook-ups? You’re so insecure.” Sarah cries.
“We’re done, leave.” Randy barks in return, but then a cruel smirk forms on his lips.
“But before you go, take this with ya.”
Randy turns around and squats, bringing his ass down just above the opening of the box filled with most likely Sarah’s things.
RRRRRRRRRWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAFFFFFFFFF
Randy drops a 6-second wet fart into the box.
Sarah looks disgusted, “You can keep this cheap junk you bought for me. My friends were right: you were never good enough for me.” She turns on her heels and storms off.
“I’ll send my brother to collect my clothes and the TV, since I bought it, I can’t stomach seeing you anymore.” She snarks over her shoulder.
“Yeah, well, he'd better take only what’s yours or he’ll be Rancid Randy’s next fart-bitch.” He calls out to her. To punctuate his threat, Randy hikes his right leg and farts.
FFFFFFFHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP
Sarah rolls her eyes.
As Sarah walks past me, she gives me a suspicious side glance. Did they know it was me?
My question is answered when Randy notices me.
“You!” Randy stomps up to me, his anger nearly palpable. “I don’t know how, but I know you’re responsible for all this. You’re a dead man!”
I whip out my phone and start recording. “Mind repeating that, friend. I’d also love to record you physically attacking me.”
My words have Randy coming to an immediate halt right in front of me. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are alight with fury. He knows he can’t act.
He turns around, but instead of walking away, he leans forward, jutting out his twin moons that are barely being contained by his jeans.
RRRRRRRWWWWWWWUUUUUUUPPPPPPPP
He envelopes me in an eggy fart cloud.
He mutters, “Fart-bitch,” before walking back into his apartment.
Joke's on him, I’ll be jerking off to this recording for a while.
I guess when it comes to men, I’m into big, brawny, sweaty guys who fart a lot and are assholes.
At this point, I thought the chapter of my life involving Sarah and Randy was over. But I was wrong, at least with Randy.
A few weeks later, on a Saturday morning, I’m awoken by heavy knocking on my door. It’s like six in the morning.
With me being half-asleep, I made the mistake of unlocking the door before looking through the peephole.
As soon as I start opening the door, it is kicked open, making me stumble back. Randy walks in like he owns the place. He shuts the door behind him, trapping me with him in my apartment.
The guy’s wearing a black tank top and black basketball shorts, and he’s practically dripping with sweat. I'm pretty sure he just had a grueling workout and came straight here. What the fuck?
He flashes me a devilish, toothy grin as he lets his shorts drop, revealing that he’s wearing a sweaty, dingy, used-to-be white jockstrap.
Before my still-waking-up mind can process anything, Randy charges at me and tackles me to the carpeted ground of my sparse living room.
We wrestle on the floor, well, more like he manhandles me with ease. I’m five-foot-ten and weigh only 150 pounds.
I wind up trapped between his powerful quads in a reverse headscissors. His mountainous, sweaty, and bare cheeks are only inches away from my face. The musk emitting from his crack is eye-burning.
“Surprise, fart-bitch, I work out early every morning, and it’s my neighborly duty to share my hard work and dedication with you.”
Randy reaches back and grips the back of my head. I try to resist, but he easily overpowers me, shoving my face against his sweaty, fuzzy crack.
PPPPPPPLLLLLLLLAAAAAATTTTTTT
He unleashes a raunchy eruption, point-blank in my face. Along with his venting fumes, my face is sprayed with beads of ass sweat.
He starts rolling his hips, wiping his grimy crack from side to side, and up and down, all over my face as he farts non-stop.
“You thought you’d make Rancid Randy look like a fool and get away scot free.” FART “Naw, buddy,” FART “You gotta pay the price,” FART “When I’m done with you, the scent of my big musky ass will be a permanent addition to your face.”
FFFFFAAAAARRRRRTTTTT
He rips a torrent of butt rockets in my face that stinks of rancid meat and broccoli, making me cough–though it’s muffled with me being smothered by his bubbly orbs.
I shouldn’t, but I’m becoming aroused.
Still gripping the back of my head, he pulls my face away from his ass. I look up over his fleshy hillsides, which he calls butt cheeks, meeting his steely grey eyes.
“Tongue my hole. Now!” He growls through clenched teeth.
Things go dark again as I’m roughly shoved in between his boulder-sized cheeks.
My brain short-circuits as I feel my lips press against the fleshy, puckered, balloon-knot. This guy–who has anger issues and who I thought was straight–wants me, a man, to eat him out?
My mental conundrum is ended by Randy flexing his meaty thighs around my head and putting on the pressure.
“That wasn’t a request. Now get to tonguing,” he practically snarls.
Rational thinking takes a backseat to self-preservation. I extend my tongue and start licking his sweaty, wrinkly hole. I circle it with the tip of my tongue, tasting him, and I love it. It tastes salty, a bit spicy, and undeniably masculine.
His quads, wrapped around my head, relax a bit–his grip on the back of my head remains firm, holding my face in place–and I feel his big body shudder, and he lets out a quiet, pleasure-filled moan.
I flatten my tongue, licking broad strips against the pucker, wanting him to relax so it will open for me.
Randy’s completely here for it. “Fuck yeah, fart-bitch, taste me, inside and out. GGH… Emphasis on inside… NGH”
I feel his asshole lips open and push outward.
MMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRVVVVVVPPPPPPP
He pushes out a 5-second fart that warms the surface of my tongue and rockets down my throat.
I break, I’m no longer doing this out of fear, I’m doing this out of sexual desire.
I start tonguing his hole with more enthusiasm. I dig the tip of my tongue in the knotted button of tissue and start wriggling it open slowly and pleasurably.
Randy gives a deep, wild moan. “That’s it, you nasty fart-bitch, eat my shit-chute. I’m a real man. I deserve this.”
He releases me from his headscissors. While keeping my face buried in his ass, he rolls us over with me lying on my back and him sitting on my face. It’s like what he did a few weeks ago, but gone is the hostility and rage. Both of us are swept up in primal lust.
I start probing my tongue deeper and deeper into him. I can tell he’s enjoying this by the sounds he is making.
He tastes so good; so masculine and addictive.
“Fucking right, fart-bitch, eat me! Eat all that I give you… HGH”
PPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRWWWWWWDDDDDDDDD
“Mmm, bet that had a kick to it. That was the spicy burrito I had before I hit the gym. Oh, hold on, FGH… here comes the chocolate protein shake I chugged it down with… RGH”
FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUU-MMMMMMMMTTTTTTTT
His nauseating butt wind inflates my cheeks and lungs like party balloons.
While still tonguing him, I grunt when I feel Randy flick the tent popping from the crotch of my shorts.
“Well, well, well, looks like you really are a fart-bitch. Keep tonguing my fart-spewing hole and I’ll keep gassing you, that’s a promise. Heh, Rancid Randy’s fart tank is never empty.”
I start pistoning my tongue into him deeper and with more fervor.
Randy’s practically roaring and snarling like a wild animal.
He’s rocking his hips, undulating his fat, blubbery rump seated on my face.
“Fuck, you definitely want my farts, you desperate fart-bitch.” PPPBBBTTT “Fine! Take it! Take it all!” RRRWWWDDD “I'm gonna fucking drown you with my farts!”
FFFFFFFFFWWWWWWWWWUUUUUUUUUVVVVVVVVV
While enduring Randy’s endless, flatulent rampage, I feel him rocking back and forth. I also hear a faint and repetitive, wet slapping sound. It’s not difficult for me to figure out what he’s doing.
The fact that this sweaty, massive man is sitting and farting on my face while getting himself off has me throbbing in my shorts.
“Hang on, fart-bitch, here comes my post-workout, morning butt-thunder; right on time. It always smells god-awful and is a real doozy. See you on the other side. Ohh… Ohhh… UGH”
3 minutes of toxic ass thunder explodes out of his hole, blasting my tongue and into my open mouth. His fumes taste bitter and stink of rancid eggs and onions.
As his fart continues, my tongue sensually slithers and dances inside Randy’s warm and velvety internal canal.
“Mhmmmmm!” My shout is muffled thanks to my face being submerged between his ample mounds.
Without touching myself, I shoot in my sleeping shorts.
Randy follows suit. I hear him growling as he thrusts into his grip while remaining seated on my face.
My shirt rode up to my chest during this intense ordeal. I feel several volleys of his essence hitting and warming my stomach.
At last, Randy rises. He pauses when his ass is hovering a few inches above my face and lets off a few purposeful poots in my face.
Pbbt, Rrvp, Fwdd
I’m caught between coughing and gagging. My entire apartment is filled with Randy’s raunchy ass musk. I doubt the smell will ever go away, and I’m not mad.
After cooling down, I sit up and watch Randy hesitantly, worried he might break into a straight crisis rage.
But Randy seems calm as he walks over to his discarded shorts and steps into them.
With his back towards me, he says, “The way I see things, you’re the reason I’ve been suffering from a serious case of blueballs for the last several weeks. Sarah may have been a lying bitch, but she knew how to suck me off. You caused this mess, and you’re gonna fix it.”
Randy comes to a complete stop when the waistband of his shorts is just below his protruding ass slabs. He looks back at me, over his shoulder. I’m surprised to see desire and interest in his expression.
He gives a nod like he’s figured it all out. “Yeah, so since you're the one responsible for getting me into this mess, you’re gonna be my solution for the foreseeable future. Around this time, every day, excluding Sundays, I’ll stop by after I work out at the gym, and you’ll eat my fat, sweaty ass and farts.”
His brow furrows in irritation. “And you better let me in when I come. Don’t think I won’t break down your door.”
This has gone from like 0 to 100.
“This is my apartment, and I’m my own person. Don’t I get a say in the matter?” I point out.
He shoots me a threatening, impish smirk. “Deal with it, this is how things are gonna go down. If you got a problem, take it up with the big guy.” Randy says before tossing a thumb over his shoulder. He then arches his back, making his meaty orbs stick out even further.
MMMMMMMFFFFFFFFVVVVVVVPPPPPPPP
Randy rips a 5-second, quack-sounding fart, refreshing the room with his rancid-egg butt scent.
I must’ve given something away because Randy looks so cocky now.
“If you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or some sort of friends-with-benefits situation going on, you'd better bring it to a hard end now. You’ve learned all too well that Rancid Randy doesn’t share what’s his.” Want and possessiveness are gleaming in his eyes, which has my breath catching.
While I’m still sitting on the floor, Randy takes several steps back, bringing his bare, fat ass right in my face. I’m immediately met with an eggy-
PPPPBBBBRRRRTTTT
He then starts slowly and sensually swaying his hips from side to side, making his basketball-sized globes wobble and jiggle from left to right. He blasts my face with a string of poots as he continues to shake his butt in my face.
Ppft, Rhhv, Mtbb
“You don’t want to feel guilty about my swampy ass claiming another victim because of you? Do you, fart-bitch?” He murmurs, looking down at me over his shoulder, that possessive gleam still alight in his eyes.
It sounds like he’s teasing, but we both know he’d do it. I was his swampy ass’ victim a few weeks ago.
My mouth feels dry. I shake my head for no.
Randy’s lips stretch into a sharkish, victorious grin, like he’s the cat who swallowed the canary, while continuing to roll his hips and poot in my face.
Fffp, Bbrp, Vvud
How do I even label this? Fart-master and slave? Fart-dom and sub? Or maybe it’s simply Rancid Randy and his fart-bitch? Whatever the title, there’s no hiding Randy’s possessive words and expressions. Could this be the starting foundation of something more meaningful in the future? Or maybe this is just about convenience until he finds a new girl. I’m not sure. What I am sure of is that Randy is an unstable and dangerous wildcard, so anything is possible.
Randy stops rocking his hips, bringing his bubbly rump to a complete stop, right in my face.
He bends forward, extending all that backside even closer to my face. He reaches back with both hands and spreads his cheeks, exposing the insides of his sweaty and hairy cheeks and his musky hole.
“Kiss it goodbye for now. It’s looking forward to feeding you breakfast tomorrow morning.”
I lean forward, burying my face in his toxic canyon. When my lips meet his ass lips, I feel them twitch before opening.
Would love to see a mini follow up to your sleepwalking uncle caption. I’m imagining an “unintentional” dutch oven…
A follow on from this caption
Finally it's the last night of my uncle staying with us. This hell of breathing in his nightly emissions, that follow his sleep walking ritual of raiding the fridge of the food that upsets his stomach, will come to an end. I've had to keep the window open through the day to air out the room enough to sleep in it come the night, and the bedding has needed to be washed almost daily from his rotten gas stench that's clung to it. My pillowcase in particular, it's almost as if he's been coming in and sitting on the pillow and farting while I'm asleep, though I push that thought out of my mind as surely I'd have known if he was regularly farting in my face while I slept. There was only that one time, when I woke up, so unless while asleep he learned to be more stealthy it's impossible.
As I go to bed that night I'm excited that it's almost over, but a little apprehensive. My mom cooked a huge farewell meal. I'm bloated and stuffed from it myself, and my uncle ate more than twice as much as me. I dread to think what it'll be doing to his stomach. But try not to think about it and go to sleep. Drifting off to the peaceful thought of a better smelling tomorrow.
I'm woken by a bright light. Standing in my open bedroom door, hall light illuminating from behind his bulky frame, my uncle stood. I quietly slide a little down and pull the quilt over my head. I'll wait out his farts protected from the smell beneath the cover.
I can hear him step in to the room. The shuffle of his feet on the carpet. But no farts erupt. Silence. Then light blinds me again as my quilt is lifted up. From my position I can only see my uncles big, hairy, belly and his tattered old underwear stretched tight. He lifts his leg and at first I thought he was going to start farting, the quilt held up to expose me, but then he crouched down and got in to the bed. Without me being there on the bed for him to see he must have confused it for his room and thought it was his bed. With it up against the wall I had little room, to avoid being sat on I backed up as far as I could go, which pinned the quilt between me and the wall. Before I had chance to move and free myself he was sat in the bed, his thick legs pressing me more against the wall, his arms on top weighing me down. Almost pressing me down.
Trapped under the quilt I waited. Hoping he'd get up again. But instead he began to fart. Under the covers a foot from his ass I was hit by the smell. His wet lactose farts, sulphurous eggy farts, eye watering farts. They erupted from his ass and the temperature around me went up several degrees. I couldn't breathe anything but his gas. No matter which way I tried to move I was blocked, held or pushed. The only way I could potentially go was to climb over my uncle. I went to climb over him, but as I got half way there his arm moved and I was forced face down between his open legs. I couldn't see anything in the pitch black, but I could feel his bulge against my cheek. His sweaty balls. My nose was an inch from his ass and I could smell the farts on the sheets and his underwear.
PPPPPRRRRRBBBB
PPPPRRRBBBBPPPTTR
BBBPPPTTT
As the three farts hit me I pulled myself back violently, wanting to get away as quick as possible. Pressed back up against the wall as much as I could, I inhaled the shit filled air. My uncle began to roll. In the darkness I could see nothing, but from the movement I knew his ass was coming round my way. I could smell it. It must have been just in front of me, I could feel the warm air emanating from it, the smell of stale farts and ass sweat. Another fart blew at my face. Before I could even react another movement and the ass was pressed back, straight on my face. Stuck now between the wall and my uncles ass.
The barrage of farts continued and no matter what I did I couldn't get free. I daren't not cry out as I'd have to open my mouth! But I hammed against him with my fists despite the warnings I'd been told of waking a sleepwalker, but it was to no avail. Fart after fart rippled across my face, the smell burning my nose hair as my lungs burned trying to find oxygen. I could feel the temperature getting unbearably hot. I was dehydrating from this dutch oven of my sleeping uncles making.
I don't know how long I was there pressed in to his ass, breathing in his farts. After around the thirtieth I think I passed out. The next thing I new I was waking up, under the quilt still, but no uncle. It was morning. The only sign he'd been there and it wasn't a horrible nightmare was the lingering smell that surrounded me. Feeling sick I threw the cover off me and fled my room.
At the breakfast table my uncle was sat there talking to my parents. He was dressed, and his bags packed next to him, ready to go. When I walked in he saw me and smiled.
"Morning! I was just telling your folks what an amazing night sleep I had last night. I feel so refreshed, I guess I must not have sleep walked at all last night. Probably the stress finally being over for me now I can move in to my own place again! Tell you what, once I'm all set up you'll have to come visit me there. It only has the one bed for now, but you don't mind sharing with your uncle for a night, do you?"
Come on, don’t be shy. Stick your little nose straight into my sweaty ass cheeks. Show me how badly you’ve wanted to feel my ass hairs tickling your face. Now sniff. Sniff so hard that you sound like a pathetic little pig.
Stick your tongue out and go as deep into my asshole as possible. My asshole is your boyfriend. Now give him a kiss. My puckered asshole is my new lips. That is the only way we will kiss from now on.
Me and my boyfriend Dean were driving to my aunt’s house. My Aunt was hosting a christmas party instead of dinner just to enjoy time with family until the holiday season was over since it was christmas eve.I couldn’t wait to see my Aunt Nancy but I was eager to avoid her son Chase. Chase was one of the worst people who you could meet he was a terror when we were younger. He was always gassy and made a habit on farting in my face whenever he got the chance no matter where we were. The worst part was noone cared they thought it was cute that Chase did that they would always say it brought us together but it just drove us apart as I spent my life avoiding him and that lethal ass of his. Well as we got older we saw eachother less really only during holidays and family vacations and over the gassy years I have learned Chase’s holiday routine he stuffs himself during the afternoon,let loose a few smelly ones and go to his room to jerk off then sleep so I just needed to avoid him until he went to his room, I use to have a list of this schedule written down but I lost it after our family vacation I was just lucky that I pretty much studied and memorized it. When we pulled up into the driveway I was amazed by the incredible Christmas decorations with a giant inflatiable snowman and colorful lights all around and the fake snow, this was arizona so it barely got cold so fake snow kinda help give it that christmas feel.My Boyfriend Dean and I get out of my car and grab some boxes from the back of my car. They were just some small gifts for my little cousins. I felt happy being able to see my cousins again since I didn’t live anywhere nearby so I tried my best to come during holidays. I walk in as I see all of my family members sitting around all smiling with the kids playing near the tree shaking there presents and my dad was watching football with my uncles and cousins. I see my aunt walk up to me. “Hello Arnie,Hello Dean How have you been?” I hear my Aunt Nancy say. “I am fine, and you?” I say.“I’m good.” Dean says “I am good as always, let me take those for you.” She says as I hand her the presents. “You can just get some food anytime you want.” She said as she goes to put the presents under the well decorated tree. I walk pass the kitchen and towards the dinner table as Dean heads to the bathroom he had been complaining about needing to piss for the whole ride. Actually Dean was the only reason I even came now, he always got distant with me when we were visiting family to spend time with them I just assumed he was trying to make a good impression but he would get stone cold barely talking to me or at all. Once I get to the table I whip out my phone and headphones so I could listen to music in peace until Dean got back. My Cousin Simon pats my back to get my attention. “You not gonna talk to anyone Arnie, I mean some people are outside playing games or you can get some food, I am pretty sure everyone has eaten already.” Simon says kindly. “I’m good” I say. “You sure?” Simon says. As I notice Chase walking behind him shirtless exposing his six pack maybe he was going to bed from his usual routine he should already have hit the hey by now. To say the least a lot of the family just tolerated Chase the only people who could say they liked Chase was his girlfriend and his mother everyone else could agree he was annoying. I got nervous that he is going to humiliate me but no he just walks pass. “Calm down Simon he said he’s good no need to be a nagging bitch all the time.” Chase says as he walks into the kitchen and puts his plate on the counter. “Hey be nice to your brother.” Aunt Nancy says from the christmas tree. “I just thought he would want some of the food since he and Dean missed dinner.” Simon says as he starts to runs off almost like he was scared of Chase and I would be too after all Chase put us through Simon had it bad since he lived with Chase I just got hit with Chase’s gas but Simon had to deal with all types of humilliation like when we were at an assembly and Chase gave Simon an atomic wedgie infront of the whole school I just felt bad for him. With Chase’s track record I was surprised he didn’t do anything other than a bit of name calling. I was more interested in the fact that Chase didn’t make fun of me in the slightest, to say the least I was surprised I maybe he got tired of making fun of Simon but me and Chase barely saw eachother so I doubt he was tired in the slightest. I wanted to push my luck and try talking to him so I get up from the table and walk into the kitchen as I see him pouring himself eggnog and then taking a big gulp. “Hey Chase?” I say. “Hey Arnie! how’s it been.” Chase says as he puts down his eggnog and gives me a big hug. “It’s so good to see you.” I say as we stop hugging. “Why are you so late Arnie? Simon is kinda right you did miss out on dinner any reason why.” Chase says. “Well yeah it was kinda because of you, you use to be a dick to me and Simon . But you seemed to have changed guess I missed dinner for nothing.” I say as Chase seems to get a odd smirk. “Yeah I guess you’re right that shit is still pretty funny.” Chase says while he starts laughing. I felt a bit embarrassed so I tried picking up the conversation. “So what do you do?” I say. “Oh well I got into construction.” He says as he takes another sip of eggnog.“And you.” Chase says.“Actually just got off not to long ago thats why I am shirtless it was a real hard day, but Simon helped me relax he even made me lunch” Chase says while Simon was passing by Chase sorta stares him down as I notied when Simon passes by he smells like Chase’s signature rotten eggs sent but I just assumed the two were enjoying a bit of brotherly bonding. I try to say something but a kid hits me in the leg as I look down and I see a bunch of kids running around us. “Hey Arnie you wanna go in my room to finish this conversation.” Chase says as he picks back up his cup of eggnog.“Sure” I say as we make it pass our family and head to the upstairs to his room. I sit on his bed and he stands infront of me “Well Chase I am going to college I’m a senior now I am planing on being a teacher or something.” I say as Chase stands infront of me directly I never really before noticed our height difference until now he was a broad 5'10 and I was a meekly 5'7. “Oh, So you’re an educated fag.” Chase blurts as I look up at him, as I feel butterflies in my stomach.“wh-what do you mean” I say stuttering. “Cut the shit Arnie” Chase says with a stern tone as I was in pure shock from the complete 180. “what” I say confused. “I found your little list in our hotel room.” Chase says with a big smirk on his face.“Trying to avoid me and the bonding time we spend together, well that plan flopped.” Chase says as I shake my head in disagreement. “How could you try something like this even though I have been nothing but kind to you blessing you with my manly gas.” Chase says. “Well I am sorry. But you are a dick so could you blame me.” I say mumbling. “Well you just ended up on Santa’s naughty list.” Chase says I was confused and still shocked but I quickly caught on to what he meant. I try to escape as he grabs me and throws me onto his bed. I land on the bed, my head at the end of bed as he lides off his sweatpants only leaving his briefs as I start to sream he sits his ass on my open mouth his legs off of the bed. As his ass was on my face, I breathe in the musk from his dirty ass. I starts screaming again as he releases a 5 second wet fart right down my throat. The fart tasted like shit. The fart has me coughing a bit as Chase start rubbing his ass in my face. “Stop bitching fag, you should know I have more than enough gas to make you throw up or have you forgotten your 13th birthday.” Chase says while he squeezes my head between his toned thighs. I start feeling butterflies in my stomach just remembering my 13th birthday like it was yesterday it was one of the worst times Chase ever farted on me. We went to a bowling alley and not only did he eat 9 slices of pizza but he ate half of my ice cream cake and washed it down with a 2 liter bottle of soda due to a combination of all of the foods he was incredile gassy so when we got home that was when the terror started as he sat on my face for 3 hours straight until I passed out and by time as I came to he still had gas as he continued for another 3 hours it was what nightmares were made of.
Now my mouth was still pressed against his dirty hole and my nose nested under his sweaty dick and balls , his musk being the only thing I could breathe.As I was breathing in the sweaty musk from Chase’s ass made me want to throw up. “Come on little cousin, we got some catching up to do.” Chase says as I try fighting to get free. I still try to fight as Chase releases his second fart. It was a wet farts that sputtered out of his ass for 9 seconds the broccoli fart made me cough as I tried fighting again but to no avail. As the fart goes down my mouth it became the only thing I could breathe. What made it worse was that the smell lingered and even started to get to my nose. “Was that good fag? All thanks to a new diet I am trying and don’t worry I got more where that came from.” Chase said as he released a 6 second fart that reeked of rotten eggs and hot garbage that rumbled in my throat. The fart was hot and barely audible coming from Chase’s smelly hole. As I am still coughing I see Chase looking down at me. “You haven’t thrown up yet, You must be tougher than I thought little cousin but don’t worry I know what will do the trick.” I try fighting again but I felt weak. He pressed his hole in my mouth. I try banging on his musular thighs as he squeezes my head between his thighs again. “Hitting me Arnie? Now I got to make this even worse as I see Chase drop his briefs resting his bare ass on my mouth again lining his hole with my mouth. As he put his full weight on me. His musk got stronger since he removed his briefs. I tried screaming but it was still muffled by his ass. As someone opened the door. It was my boyfriend Dean. "Uh I am sorry, am I interrupting? I was just looking for Arnie.” Dean says.
Dean’s POV
I walk in seeing a naked Chase sitting on Arnie. Even though I should worry about Arnie I couldn’t help but admire Chase’s muscular toned body. Chase was always hot I always dreamed of dumping Arnie for Chase but I wasn’t sure if Chase was gay so I just continued dating Arnie just to see Chase. “Hey Dean you mind doing something for me.” Chase says with a smirk, I knew where this was going while we were on vacation with the family me and Chase made a stupid bet where I beame his servant I ofcource lost on purpose but even if he didn’t bet I would still have done anything for Alpha Chase. “Please, I will do anything.” I blurt out. Arnie always omplained about Chase’s behavior but to me I would do anything for Chase even if I only saw him ever so often. I stared at his cock while I was awaiting a command. He noticed me and he got a bit of a smirk on his face as I look at Arnie screaming helpless under his ass. Arnie was so lucky I wish it was me there. “If you worship my feet, I might let you suck me off.” Chase says as he grabs his cock and starts jerking off and lifts his feet off of the ground exposing his big, slightly dirty feet. I drop to my knees quickly dreaming about swallowing his cum as I sniff and lick the bottom of his feet and suck his toes. As Chase lets out a big sigh, this is the dream, 2 fags serving me at the same time maybe I could even text Simon so he can worship these pits.“ Chase said as I continued worshipping his feet. "You know what I will, It could be like a faggy trinity.” Chase says as he grabbed his phone to text Simon. While texting Simon Chase released a 8 second fart that echoed in Arnie’s throat as Arnie started screaming. “Come one Arnie you should know this won’t be over soon just be like your boyfriend and do what I say, and what I say is put that clean tounge of yours in my dirty hole, maybe you could like my ass clean to make this easy on yourself.” Chase says as I get angry at Arnie for making Chase angry. "Arnie you heard Master Chase, get to licking.“ I say as I get back to sucking Chase’s toes. "See even your boyfriend agree’s with just do it or not you’ll be eating these farts either way.” Chase says as I notice his cheeks clench a it, they relax after a whole 12 seconds as Chase releases a big sigh of relief. As Arnie starts screaming again which upset me, Didn’t he know how lucky he was no matter how much I tried I couldn’t get Chase to fart on me I would always have to sniff silently whenever he let one loose, the closes I got was him dutch ovening me on that summer vacation but he thought I was Arnie so I don’t count it plus his gas wasn’t half as strong as it was now. Some of the farts even hit me. Like the SBD he had just released I started taking whiffs. “You like that.” Chase looking at me obviously noticing me take whiffs. I simply nod my head yes. As Master Chase began to smirk. “That’s what beans,broccoli,brussel sprouts,boiled cabbage and a shit ton of cauliflower can do to your guts, this diet I am on is intense. I also indulged in some hard-boiled eggs for breakfast. Plus I had to wash it down with a gallon of eggnog. I fed my younger brother his daily dose of my morning farts and then sent him to the store for protein food because I wasn’t sure when my mom was gonna finish with the food. I made him cook it, Then I made him sniff it if you know what I mean. Little fag didn’t even see it coming. Then Arnie came late so I just decided to gas out Simon until Arnie got here so Simon would know to behave.” Chase says while I start to touch my member just imagining Chase using me like that. “Master Chase can I sniff your farts if Arnie won’t I would be good at it.” I say as I stop worshipping his feet. “Oh no, I want to break Arnie you see, I didn’t see him much as a kid and not much as an adult so I want to break him, I mean Simon will pretty much do whatever I say and you’re not to far off, Just Arnie now.” Chase says. “Now less talk and more suck.” Chase says as I get back to worshipping his feet. As a very bassy 10 second fart booms out of Chase’s backside and into Arnie’s mouth as I go onto worshipping Chase’s other foot. Feeling how rugged and tough it felt, licking the dirt off of the bottom. I was still jealous of Arnie getting the fun part and not even being grateful to be under Chase’s ass.
Arnie’s POV
I was still trapped under Chase’s ass and my boyfriend telling Chase he want’s to smell his farts didn’t make the situation better. As another fart rumbles out of Chase’s ass lasting for a good 15 seconds as it smells rancid like rotten vegetables and hot trash and like all of his other farts it tasted horrible going down my throat. “You know Arnie this could all be over once my ass is cleans and kissed, or you could just stay under their but that broccoli and cauliflower aren’t sitting right with me. I might even need to shit in your mouth if you don’t move this along.” Chase says as he continues to stroke his cock as it starts to stiffen up being a whole 9 inches in size. As I feel nervous I wanted to think that it was just an empty threat but nothing was really stopping him if he was willing to fart down my mouth what would stop him from shitting. So I just relunctantly lick the inside of his dirty ass as I hear him moan above me. “That’s the christmas spirit.” Chase says as he moans again and cums some of it getting on my face on the floor. I stop licking thinking it’s over but he just releases another fart this one a wet farts that just taste like shit I start screaming again. “I didn’t tell you to stop.” Chase says as my eyes start watering as I stick my tounge back to lick the sweat and shit from his swamp ass getting some of the hairs from his ass on my tounge. While licking I feel his hole pucker against my tounge as another SBD almost melts my tounge off due to the heat of the fart as I feel like throwing up from the smell of the rotten trash that was then left in the sun for 2 weeks. “Come on Arnie you can’t be acting like this when dinner hasn’t even hit me yet.” Chase says as I get a sense of fear I try to break out but I was just met with and other fart which just made me sick as I start coughing as I hear the door open. “Finally you’re here fag now get here and worship these pits. What took you so long if Arnie wasn’t so good to sit on I would have let loose a couple right on the fae of your bitch. Now get over here and shove you nose into these pits faggot.” Chase says . “Yes Chase” Simon replied drab sounding almost like he was defeated should I just give up to?
Simon’s POV
I stared at my brother as he was flexing his muscles, then I stared at Dean looking like he was massaging Chase’s feet and Arnie under Chase’s ass still fighting. I wonder when Arnie will just give up that’s what I did and life has been easier as Chase’s bitch, he doesnt tackle me to the ground anymore I know when to get on my knees, he doesn’t have to force me to do anything or duct tape me to his ass because I do what I am told, he doesn’t steal my wallet anymore because I just give him my money. Life has just been easier me and Chase haven’t been Closer then we are now. I walk up to him and shove my nose into the deep and sweaty forest that is Chase’s armpit. I breathe in the manly musk it was nothing I wasn’t use to as I start licking the sweat off of the pit. “Finally all the fags in place, Arnie I am still waiting for that ass cleaning I also expect a cleaning for my dick and balls. I think Sarah (Chase’s girlfriend) is gonna be here soon and she wants me to freshen up for her.” Chase says. “I also want you to clean my dick after I fuck her. Also Simon her little brother Vince Might becoming so if he does you will service him okay he seems to like that tounge of yours and he wants to fuck your guts out you better not make any noise.” Chase says in a stern tone as I continue licking down his armpit. “Yes Chase” I reply as I switch and go to lick Chase’s other armpit. Once I am finished leaning my brother’s armpits with my tounge I stand infront of me awaiting my reward. “Since you did a good here you go.” Chase says as throws me a pair of sweaty white briefs that are stained with sweat,skidmarks and piss. I put it up to his nose and takes a big whiff of it. “Thank you.” I say as I leave.
Arnie’s POV
After seeing Simon I realized that the only way out of this was to obey so he would take it easy on me. So I stick my tounge and start licking the inside of his ass trying to ignore the taste of the ass, the smell of the musk and his rancid protein farts. After around 15 minutes of straight lick he told me to stop. “Thats a good boy Arnie that is enough I think Sarah may be here soon anyway. Here is a gift from me to you since I am feeling generous. As Chase is final fart was oming I could since it would be a big one as a 36 second massive fart booms out of Chase’s ass as it smelled rotten eggs and trash. He sits there for a bit to let it linger as he then gets up squeezing out a small fart and wafting it to me. "Have that too” He says as he starts putting back on his briefs and going he walks passed Dean as he stops grabs the back of Dean’s head and brings his head close to his face as he rips a 7 second farts that reeked of shit as he continues walk Dean sniffs it up. Chase then goes out of the door and goes to the bathroom across the hall where we releases a thick and long stream of piss and then two 1 second farts during it. As I laid on the bed not even having the strength to move as Dean got up. “I am going to check out the party downstairs.” Dean goes out of the door quickly as he passes by the bathroom door which Chase left open. As I see Chase walk back in the room with a big smirk on his face. “Change of plans Sarah’s not feeling to well so we got a ton more time together.” Chase says as I try to move but I don’t even have the strength to roll over. He sits right ontop of my face and since I don’t have the energy to fight him I just brace myself. “This just feels right you, a faggy bitch doing what I say being trapped down there with my farts instead of oxygen since why should a fag need air.” Chase says ontop of me as I just groan so he can get this over with. "How about we return to our roots fart-sucker.“ Chase says which I don’t completely understand but I know could be no good. "EVERYONE GET UP HERE AND BRING A CAMERA ME AND ARNIE AND HAVING SOME FUN!!!” Chase shouts from ontop of me which is when I caught on to what he was doing. I try to break free but to no avail as I hear what hhas to be my whole family rushing upstairs. Once a crowd forms with a camera as requested Chase starts to release a load of farts right there infront of our family as I started feeling embarrassed. Even after they left after recording 23 minutes of me eating farts Chase continued to let loose a barrage of man gas until I could handle it any more and told him I need to throw up. I ran to the bathroom as he sat there with a smile impressed with himself on ruining another family event for me.
Sorry if this story is to long I was really feeling this one though anyway happy holidays and stay safe.
WESTFORK - WHERE KINK HAPPENS
An unnecessarily long, slow-burn fart fetish story that takes too long to get to the point, just like this intro.
Meet Jeff, the newest archivist in the renowed study-center known as Westfork.
He's a nice guy, and gets the job done, sometimes a bit too well, so much so that he may even end up having some unexpected kinky good time because of it.
Other than the kink content, make sure to endure the obvious breaks from reality when it comes to job-related story beats and whatnot.
Premise and vibes are similar to my DaveFarts series, but I wanted to experiment with something longer (cue the obvious jokes).
May turn into a proper story series in the future.
Most importantly, hope you enjoy!
----------------------------------------
TUESDAY
The more I walked around this place, the more it felt like I stepped back a couple of years: Westfork operated as a proper University for almost a century before being repurposed as a study center. It retained the picturesque charm of its Georgian-styled brick buildings and courtyards -though a small part of the campus is basically empty and closed due to budget cuts, and it wasn’t all as well-preserved as it may look.
Despite not being a University anymore, Westfork is still a reverenced name in academic environments, and it’s nowdays a renowned study center specializing in history research and education.
For personal reasons I fell behind schedule… a bit, but I managed to get my B.A. History degree, because the idea of being unemployed was amazing to me. Luckily enough (and that’s an euphemism), they needed a bookworm who hates sunlight to sort through a messy bunch of uncatalogued documents and books in their archives, so I just hopped on the next plane and came here.
It’s around 6:00 PM, the warm colors of the sunset highlights the warm autumnal hues of the trees around me. The evening was cold but my jacket was enough to keep me warm. I’m starting this new job tomorrow, but first I’m supposed to meet with an old acquaintance from college, Ted, so he can show me around.
He’s a bit of a… stickler, but he usually means well.
Usually.
It’s also hopefully an excuse to have a quick beer or coffee, which is fine to me.
I sat on a bench just outside of a Cafe, parking my rolling bag in front of me (it’s not much, but I’m planning to leave this weekend to fetch more stuff from home). The atmosphere is great and nostalgic, almost romantic I’d say.
Westfork is pretty lively, despite hosting merely a hundred people compared to the thousands it was originally built for. I saw some guys walking past me, some couples, all around 26 or older (so around my age), people like me who were lucky enough to end up working here at Westie, and maybe their friends/significant others from outside visiting. I’ve been told the institution doesn’t really care who visits, as long as they don’t burn the place down. Plus, we’re basically working adults here, not college students throwing parties (I know because I was one of them -especially the party part, no regrets).
“Jeff Park” I turned around and saw Ted holding a cup of coffee, while adjusting his big round glasses. “I didn’t recognize you without a microphone.”
My parties usually involved karaoke contests.
I stood up and stepped towards him, shaking his hand.
“Good to see you too, Ted.”
Ted and I are not exactly close friends, but we get along just fine. When he found out I was coming here, he surprisingly texted me to offer me a guided tour, which I gladly accepted. This also apparently was some kind of “official” task, as he just handed me the keys to my apartment in the campus.
We got another cup of coffee, for me this time (I paid), and he started showing me around. I tried to listen, though the taste of the coffee was… distracting.
“Westfork may just be a study center nowdays, but as you can see it still has that college soul going.” he commented, looking at some guys jogging. “That building right there, the one with the white dome, is the President’s office basically. The library is right next to it.”
“I assume the library is where you guys also keep your archives?”
“Yeah -well, it’s actually in the building literally behind it, we can’t see it from here though.”
Ted kept describing the place, explaining some bits of history as well, which I found interesting, but I’m biased because of my degree. I truly enjoyed the place so far, both in aesthetics and whatnot.
I then heard a noise coming from behind, the sound of tiny wheels to be more precise, which I recognized to be a group of people skateboarding in our direction. I noticed Ted rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Here comes the bullies.”
“Here comes the what-now?” I asked.
Indeed, two guys on their skateboards rode past us, one of them casually (and jokingly, I assumed) slapping Ted’s back, clearly to annoy him. As they rode away, they gave one last amused look to my guide, before disappearing behind a brick building.
“…Bullies?” I asked, rather sarcastically.
Ted's acted calm and in oddly overly-refined manners until this moment, when I could see him not just annoyed, but almost disgusted by those guys’ presence.
“That’s the soul I was talking about.” he explained. “The rotten, immature soul of the worst college you can think of.”
I was quite surprised by his reaction. “They were just goofing around.” I tried to calm him down, without success.
“Those are Brad’s goons. They don’t look the part, yet they too work here for some reason.” he said. “They’re basically the bullies around here, immature hogs acting like a toxic fraternity, tarnishing the already tarnished name of Westfork.”
This was turning into a petty monologue pretty fast for my taste.
I know him, I know no one’s tarnishing anything.
“Always bullying hard-workers like us while they fuck around on their stupid skateboards.”
I decided to step in. “I see.” I said. “Any other 90s stereotype I should be concerned about?”
“They’re also homophobes.”
Ok, ouch. “Well that’s the first actually bad thing about them, if it’s true.”
“Just stay away from them. They’re like a disease.”
Ted seemed pretty sure about them; I could tell there was something else going on, but I didn’t want to get my ass involved into some Westie drama before even starting to work. Sure, some comments he made sounded very superficial (skateboarders = bad bullies? in 2025? really?), but I doubt he’d call anyone a homophobe if he wasn’t sure about it -that’s a pretty bad thing to say about anyone.
I didn’t 100% believe everything he said, but I was gonna keep my guard up just in case.
My angry guide and I kept chatting while walking apparently aimlessly, as he was still riled up about those… “bullies”, and even implied that he and his ex girlfriend broke up because of them, though the timing seems far-fetched. Anyway, we ended the tour about 30 minutes later, stopping in front of a big brick building with many windows, clearly a residential one that once hosted students attending the courses here.
“That’s my stop. Sorry, it’s been a long day for me.”
“It’s fine. I’m staying across the street, right?” I said, pointing at what was basically this building’s twin, on the other side of a small square.
“Yep. If you need anything… good luck.”
I let Ted go get some rest while I walked towards the other building. It wasn’t late, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything tonight, plus I was tired for the trip: top priority is unpack some stuff and throw them into place. There’s this history paper I’ve been reading, focusing on the language of architecture in Middle Age Europe (creatively titled “Architecture and Power”), which is porn to my brain. Can’t find any info on the guy who wrote it -some dude called “L. Evans”. I just have a printed copy -hope it didn’t get too wrinkled in my roll- FUCK.
I think I skipped a few metaphorical frames of animation for how fast I turned around and started running. Neither me or Ted noticed that I left my roller back at the bench by the Cafe. I’m the King of idiots, they’re gonna write dozens of papers about Jeff Park, the fooliest among the fools.
I rushed back as fast as I could, but it was too late: my apparently really captivating suitcase was gone. Luckily I have my wallet, ID and the apartment’s keys in my pockets, but I can’t start my job by showing up with the same clothes every day (not because of some innate fashion sense -which I have, thanks for asking, I’m talking about basic hygiene). While I stood there like the idiot I am trying to come up with a solution, I heard some people acknowledging my presence.
“Is that our guy?” someone said.
I turned to the Cafe, noticing three guys -two of them being the skateboarders from before- having either coffee or beer sitting outside, their ‘boards parked by their stools under their feet, one displaying a simple drawing of a lightning.
It’s those… “bullies”. What I also noticed, however, was my rolling bag. Before I could say anything, one of them stood up and walked towards me, with my suitcase in tow.
“Hey is this yours?” the man said, handing me the long handle of the suitcase, as he scratched the small black stud on his left ear.
“Yes… thanks.”
“No problem.” the man simply said, before turning around and walking back to the Cafe. “Yep, that was our guy.” he then said to his friends.
I was going to step closer, maybe pay a round of drinks to thank them, then I heard something that made me remember why Ted said what he said.
“Yeah he looked pretty nervous. They usually do that ya know.”
“They?” I mouthed, in silence.
I’m out of here.
I didn’t even know that being nervous was a gay stereotype. Everyone’s nervous, in this economy! Thanks for keeping my suitcase safe, but no, I’m not getting dragged into this. And for a moment I even thought that the guy who handed me the suitcase was cute; I gotta stop being so basic.
“Slow down with the beer dude, have mercy for our noses.” one of them said, laughing.
I pretended I didn’t hear that.
— — —
Despite my sudden amnesia, I managed to properly unpack my stuff. The dorm-room felt quite nostalgic, though to be fair most rooms here at Westie were recently renovated into small apartments. Nothing huge, but it didn’t cost much, and so far I do like it here, so I got nothing to complain about.
I collapsed on my bed, staring at the so far empty walls, and wondered how I struggled so much with college… only to end up in another college… sort of; by now you know Westfork is not a University per se, but still, Ted wasn’t lying: the vibes are still there, the soul he mentioned still lives on, for better or for worse.
Oh well.
I reached for the L. Evans paper, re-reading some parts I highlighted the other day, a paragraph introducing the concept of the lasting presence of buildings, looming like silent watchers of the History unfolding before them.
“Yeah… I wonder how much sex those walls witnessed.” I thought, looking around me.
— — —
WEDNESDAY
The best thing about this job, skipping the parts you’d find boring at least, is that my morning commute is just a couple of minutes of walking through a beautiful campus. I woke up well-rested, had a relaxing shower, grabbed a small backpack, then went to the Cafe from yesterday to grab a cup of -you guessed it- coffee before heading to the library and its archive. I managed to exchange a few messages with some friends in the process, who for some reason always assume that I got myself into some kind of trouble (…I refused to tell them about the suitcase), which they find hilarious of course.
I also got an e-mail from Westie’s President, welcoming me aboard officially, hoping I enjoy my stay and implying that I should get the job done properly. He didn’t get to the “unless you want to get fired” part, but that was heavily implied anyway.
I left the Cafe… then came back a few seconds later because I obviously forgot my backpack by the counter, then went to my actual workplace, where Ted was waiting for me. It took me a couple of minutes to find him, because he was at the Archives already, in a building behind the library. It’s fine, I’m not even late for once, and Ted seemed almost grateful to see me.
Straight to the point, he guided me through the surprisingly bleak archives, the scaffoldings full of dusty, old, uncatalogued documents, books and manuscripts, some looking very old; it was like Christmas to me, and I honestly couldn’t wait to get started.
“It’s pretty straightforward to be honest.” Ted admitted. “You can start from there, the stuff filed under the letter A, obviously.”
I obeyed, even though Ted wasn’t my boss or anything.
“Remember the archival standards-“
“Yes, no worries, this is like Heaven to me.” I reassured him, perhaps sounding more cocky than I wanted to.
Tracing back to a document’s origin or author is like a murder mystery: you have evidence to arrange, logical steps to follow, deduction, and suspects. However, sadly, you don’t always get to the smoking gun, but you do get closer than anyone else… which is why this paper by L. Evans is lowkey driving me crazy. It was written like… last year, yet I can’t find any info on the author. The Internet has failed me! I’d love to read more of his stuff, if he has written any to begin with. I don’t even know if he’s still alive! Does he even exist? Maybe that’s not his real name?
Nice, it’s my first day and I’m already getting distracted by my train of thoughts, still most of these documents look well-preserved and most importantly clearly signed and with a clear date: good for all of us and for the importance of long-term preservation, bad for the me who was looking for a challenge.
A few hours went by, me and Ted occasionally exchanging opinions or documents based on what we were looking for. I like being social, as my karaoke skills imply, but I do like the atmosphere of an old, dark, dusty archive with no sunlight. And Ted is like… really boring, a perfect teammate for me then, in this context.
More hours flew by, it was late afternoon already; I even forgot to do a lunch break. Not a fan of me forgetting things so much lately, but it’s on me, I was just really into those old files this time. I’m far from being a workaholic, but I do enjoy this stuff.
“Weird.” I said, arranging a couple of old books on the well-lit desk in front of me. “They’re in perfect state, they’ve been catalogued already apparently, but you’re missing one.” I checked the side of the books. “The third one.”
“Well, that’s our job, isn’t it?” Ted replied, not really listening to what I was trying to say.
“Yes, but Westie does own it, it’s been digitized, it’s listed on your website, even.” sometimes work is as simple as that.
“Oh yeah, now I get it.” Ted admitted. “Beyond the Horizon: A Captain's Memoirs, vol. III. I know where it is.”
Ted seemed hesitant, and also annoyed.
“It’s not urgent or anything, but we can simply place this series in the library if we have them all…” this is more of my perfectionist side taking the wheel. The ship’s wheel.
“I think either Brad Larrying or Tyler Landoon have it, those jerks.”
“Let me guess, they’re the super scary skateboarders from yesterday, right?” I said, with a hint of sarcasm. Just a hint, really.
“Hey, I told you. They’re not worthy of this institution, so you getting the book back from them is basically your duty.”
I rolled my eyes behind his back. I reached for one of the tomes and put it in my backpack.
“And they’re also homophob-“
I cut him off, maybe raising my voice a bit too much at first. “I… I’m going to decide if that’s true, with all due respect.”
Ted scoffed at me. “Why would I make it up?”
“I’m… I’m not saying you made it up, I’m just doing my job, not jumping to conclusions.” even though they did make a weird comment yesterday, after handing me the suitcase.
“Whatever.” he simply said. “It’s past 6:00 PM, they’re probably hanging out at their Frat House not far from here, by the Old Birch.”
“Frat House? Really?”
“I mean it does feel like one you know…” he said, concerned.
“I kind of hope it does now.” I said, amused instead.
The outside greeted me with beautiful warm autumnal colors again, like the evening before. The Sun was still setting, and people leaving work walked around the campus as if it was a lively city. But my work wasn’t done yet, I’m gonna Indiana Jones this shit if I have to.
Once I got familiar with Westfork’s layout I realized that the campus wasn’t nearly as big -or fancy- as it looked -don’t get me wrong, it’s a small town basically, but everything is conveniently close. And that includes the so-called “Frat House” mentioned by Ted, a small red brick building with a… quirky (and rather cheap-looking if you ask me) neoclassical façade, the pediment displaying a big “Ω” in the middle. Yep, once again, the soul’s still there. Unlike the Old Birch, which is only a stump (by the looks of it, it probably got cut down mere days before I got this job -and judging by the damaged roof of the Frat House, I can probably see why).
I walked through the short front-yard and knocked on the red door in front of me, before noticing the door-bell at least. I could hear some muffled rock music coming from the inside (Whispering Ostriches, I kind of like that band), followed by some voices, probably people complaining about someone showing up at their doorstep on a Wednesday evening.
I don’t blame them.
Maybe Ted’s stereotyping wasn’t so off after all, as the person who opened the door was your textbook jock-looking pri- I mean person. Tall, big, fit… kind of intimidating?
Before I could say anything, the guy smiled and went “You’re the rolling bag-guy!”.
I was famous!
“You remembering me tells me that Westfork must be very boring.”
He laughed and let me in. “That’s what all workplaces are.”
“I’m looking for either Brad Larrying or Tyler Landoon.” straight to the point, more or less.
“Nice to meet you -I’m Brad.” he promptly said.
I followed him into a charming, wood-paneled living room, lots of books, maps and documents scattered around (with a couple of skateboards thrown into the mix). On a table there was also a scale model of an historical US building -it looked like the Old State House in Boston. Westfork’s historical soul was mostly intact here, if you don’t count the empty chips bag.
“And that goblin there is Tyler.” he said, pointing at a guy chilling on an armchair, his face partially hidden under a black hoodie, too focused on reading something on his laptop to notice a guest, yet I could tell he’s the same guy who handed me the suitcase yesterday, in front of the Cafe.
I heard another voice coming from another room, followed by some noises, as if they were setting something up.
“Brad.” another guy showed up. “The game starts in 20 minutes. Did you check the subscription?”
“And that’s Mark.” Brad commented, visibly annoyed -clearly this wasn’t the first time Mark asked this.
Mark quickly nodded at me, acknowledging my existence, before disappearing in the other room again to, I assume, mess with the TV in anticipation of the game. Funny because there was another TV in this room, but I assume it was mostly used for gaming or other stuff.
“If this is a bad time I can-“
“It’s fine.” Brad cut me off. “Whenever the Lobsters play, Mark goes DEFCON 1. YOU’RE GONNA LOSE ANYWAY.”
“Fuck you and your Wasps!” a muffled response from the other room. “What’s wrong with this TV?!”
Brad pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, sort of embarrassed by the situation. “Hard to believe everyone in here is a published historian, huh?”
Honestly, that was hilarious. This is the right mix of “academic environment” and “chill” for me, maybe with a bit less screaming at the TV (but that happens to me when gaming, so I get it).
“Do… do you mind if I help?” I dared to ask, hearing more angry comments. “From what I… barely heard I had a similar problem with my TV last week.”
“Of course. Thanks.” Brad said, eagerly pushing me in the lion’s den. “Be my guest.”
Mark was almost punching the TV, something we’ve all did but rarely works, come on. I simply tapped on his shoulder and silently asked him for the remote.
“I got the same model. They’re like the printers of TVs: they stop working whenever you actually need them.”
I messed with the settings a bit, doing things in a precise order, then turned it OFF and ON again. Now it works, for some magical reason.
“Who are you again?” Mark asked, after taking a good look at the crisp, perfect image on the screen.
“I’m Jeff, I’m the new archivist. I got he-“
“Stop talking, you’ll tell us everything about you tomorrow night. Beer’s on us.” he said, with a firm handshake.
“Gladly.” I simply said. “I mean I didn’t do mu-“.
“If you don’t wanna come, don’t. If you want, there’s only one Cafe in this husk of a University, so you’ll know where to find us.”
Ted’s words echoed in my head as these guys kept being just casually… nice.
Again, not jumping to conclusions.
I thanked Mark for the invitation and walked back to the main living room, but I slowed down once I heard a rather animated conversation between Brad and Tyler.
“The President won’t kick you out, Tyler. You’re the most valid asset in our team.”
“Read the e-mail. If it happens again, I’m out. I fucked up too many times.”
“You had a couple of beers…”
“I was drunk, passed out, and he was the one who found me — right in the middle of the night, in the middle of the campus, during one of his late-night jogging sessions.”
“…no one got hurt?”
“He literally tripped over me!”
I decided to step in, hopefully not making things too awkward or embarrassing, pretending I didn’t hear a thing.
“The TV is fixed.”
“Awesome dude.” Brad said.
“Who’s the IT guy?” Tyler said, before correcting himself (and rushing to change the subject). “Oh right, you’re the rolling bag-guy!”
“My reputation precedes me I see.”
Tyler was too focused on reading that e-mail to notice me earlier, and given what I’ve heard, I don’t blame him. Hope things get better for him.
“Look, Brad.” I said. “Seriously, I can come back anoth-“
“No no, sorry about Mark. What do you need?” he asked.
“Alright… I’ve been told you guys have the third volum-“
“Beyond the Horizon: A Captain's Memoirs.” Tyler cut me off. “It’s somewhere in my room, follow me.”
“I thought you’d returned it.” Brad commented.
“I was going to.” Tyler replied, almost clenching his teeth. “Then… something happened.” clearly he didn’t want to address the jogging accident in front of me, understandably.
Brad mockingly clapped his hands once, as if he was so done with his friend and co-worker’s shenanigans. Tyler shook his head, then resumed talking.
“Let’s just be quick.” he jokingly smiled. “You know they can get all… you know.” he then did some weird panicked gestures or something that looked like that.
“They?” I asked, my tone getting a bit more defensive. The two guys noticed my tonal shift, but still looked pretty relaxed. “What do you mean with they, exactly?”
A few seconds of awkward -for me- silence, then all three of them said “Westie archivists.” at the same time, even Mark from the other room.
“Of course.” I said, realizing I’m an idiot.
“I smell Ted.” Brad said, the other two echoing his words.
They didn’t look angry or offended, just amused. I have the feeling this is not the first time this happens, in a way or another.
“Jeff, right?” Brad spoke first. “Ted’s not a bad person, but he’s a bit of a… you know… sort of a classist, I might say?” he indeed said, Tyler nodding.
I’d lie if I say that Ted didn’t sometimes act… “weird”, to put it charitably, but that’s why I don’t consider him a close friend. I’m glad he’s been my guide here, but he’s not exactly my cup of tea.
“You don’t get to nod.” Brad turned to Tyler, trying not to laugh. “He does have a valid reason to dislike you.”
“Is it because of my long, flowing golden locks?” he said, pulling his hood back, revealing a shaved head with very short dark hair.
“No that’s becau-“ Brad turned to me. “It’s nothing. They have a history. Tyler messed up, but yeah Ted was a bit too spiteful.”
“If we were like half of the bad things he says about us we’d be in jail.” Tyler said. “And also if we were homophobes we’d have to kick this hot beefcake out.” Tyler patted his bigger friend’s back, who was very annoyed by him talking too much.
“I’m bi.” Brad simply said, after taking a deep breath.
“And the B stands for BOOOORING!” Tyler kept making fun of him.
That jab clearly had nothing to do with Brad’s sexuality, but rather him being the most serious one of the trio so far. Those guys are not homophobes in the slightest -they actually seem all super chill with each other, and with me.
As Tyler maturely kept making fun of his friend for being, ironically enough, the so-called “straight man”, Brad just looked at me with a tired expression, reading me like an open book, fully knowing that I’m gay, hoping to find some support.
“Do you have any straight friends?” he asked, sarcastically.
“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.” I simply replied, amused by this whole situation.
— — —
Tyler’s bedroom was upstairs, a modest room, and a messy one nonetheless. Not judging, plus I’m a mess myself. Like the living room, there were documents, books and papers scattered around the floor, and another -smaller- scale model on a desk, this time of the Independence Hall from Philadelphia. I turned to the owner of all that, Tyler, this tall guy, shaved head, wearing a black hoodie, shabby grey sweatpants, and a pair of… random pink flip-flops.
Yeah, those guys are cool, I don’t care.
I put my backpack on a surprisingly empty chair so I could take the book out and show it to him, even though he already knew what we were looking for.
“Like I told Brad, if you have to watch the game, I can come back tomorrow.” I insisted, rummaging through my backpack.
“It’s fine, we got a couple of minutes.” Tyler stated, as he started looking. “Though a couple of seconds will do.”
I didn’t even have the time to take the book out that he already handed me the third volume. That was fast.
“Thanks.” I said, reaching for the tome, letting my backpack fall on the floor in the process, because that’s what I do apparently.
The moment it touched the floor, the backpack belched out the book I wanted to show him, a couple of snacks, an empty water bottle, an old keychain, the country of Germany, and the L. Evans paper I’m re-reading.
“Sorry. Let me grab all of this real quick.” I said, as Tyler crouched to help.
“Architecture and Power.” he reached for the paper first, intrigued. “Hope it’s a good read.” he snorted, as he handed it to me.
“It’s a really interesting take on Middle Age Europe. Very creative, very informative, a bit verbose at times, and uses ‘literally’ a bit too much.” I explained, half serious.
“I literally told the editor but he didn’t care.” Tyler stated.
“Yeah.” it took me a few seconds to fully realize what he said. “What the fuck.” I turned to him as if I saw a ghost. “Are you L. Evans?”
“Nope. I’m Tyler Landoon Evans.” he said, spelling his full name loud and clear. “For SOME reason they thought my name was Landon and… well, you know the rest… or rather, you don’t. I’m basically a ghost.”
“This can’t be real.” I said. “Who’d make such a stupid mistake?”
“It just happens. That’s fine. I like living in the shadows.” he chuckled.
“No no, you don’t understand. This is my job.” I insisted. “This is what I do. I can fix this.”
“It’s okay dude. You don’t wanna get involved into this.”
I’m totally going to get involved into this.
I said I was gonna Indiana Jones this shit, that’s what I’m still planning to do.
“Well, either way… big fan of your work.”
“Thanks man.” he then gave a quick look to my black and yellow backpack. “Big fan of your Wasp bag there.”
“Don’t tell Mark.” I quickly replied.
Brad stepped into the room to tell us that the game was starting and even went as far as inviting me to stay, if I wanted to watch the first half of the game, but I had to be somewhere else.
“Say ‘hi’ to Ted for us.” Brad joked, walking me to the door.
“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”
This is why I don’t jump to conclusions.
I left the place with a heavier backpack and more info that I could ever imagine. I met the elusive author out of nowhere, in the last place a Ted would have told me to look.
So far so good, but damn, Westfork is… weird, yet I wanna help. Just today I met people who were mislabeled: fixing Tyler’s paper will be a piece of cake.
— — —
THURSDAY
The moment I woke up I was greeted with good news: my flight for the weekend (Saturday afternoon) was cancelled. I got mad at first, because money… but it’s ok, there was no rush to fill my wardrobe here, I got enough clothes and underwear to survive a full month, as long as the washing machine keeps working and Summer doesn’t decide to come back for revenge without warning.
Just like the day before, I had my morning routine, and even managed to exercise a bit, then went to the Archives after a quick cup of coffee, Ted waiting for me outside, his big round glasses looking like two headlights.
“I see you survived the encounter.” he said, as he walked me inside. “Do they eat raw meat? Did the concept of fire reach them? Should we be the ones teaching them?”
“Calm down, Prometheus.” I replied. “They’re fine.”
“Fine?” he seemed genuinely incredulous. “They’re hogs, Jeff.”
“Okay, you can turn your 90s stereotype goggles OFF for a second. And those are pretty big goggles. I said they’re fine.”
“Did you get the book?” he bluntly asked.
“It’s in my backpack.”
“Good. I’m sure you’ll do a great job without my supervision.”
I didn’t like his tone. “First of all, you’re not my supervisor.” he narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “Second, you’re leaving?”
We reached our workstation, the dark, dusty room full of wonders to discover and cry over when we can’t find any cross-reference.
“This archive is not really my department, so to speak. I mostly work really close to the higher-ups you know. I was tasked to literally guide you.”
“Thanks for being my guiding moonlight.” I said, half-serious.
“Not to brag, but the President really appreciates my work. Sometimes I even get to review graduates’ papers and…”
Oh come on, this can’t be going where I think it’s going. Ignoring my “jumping to conclusions” rule for a moment, I reached for Tyler’s paper in my backpack and almost shoved it in Ted’s face.
“Do you recognize this, by any chance?”
Ted remained silent.
That was a rhetorical question.
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“That was a weirdly high-pitched response from you.”
“I don’t know who this L. Evans is.”
“I never told you the author’s name.”
Ted scoffed in frustration, as I pointed one of the lights to his face. Sorry Indy, looks like I’m going full Colombo for this stupid ass case instead.
“You know, until this morning I thought that an editor getting an author’s name wrong was a silly mistake… except that you guys don’t make mistakes like this. In fact, you correct mistakes like this… which means that you… did this on purpose.”
“This is literally insane.” Ted commented, adding more smoke to the already smoking gun.
“Pettiness aside, this could get you fired, man.”
“No one cares about this paper, why would anyone. It’s a piece of trash, I could write this blindfolded.”
Looks like I’m not getting any actual work done for a couple of more minutes.
“Why do you hate this guy so much?”
“Why do you care so much?” Ted replied, a smirk appearing on his face. “Got a little crush on Tyler, perhaps?”
I took a deep breath, ignoring the obvious taunt, then handed a copy of the paper to him, making sure to shove it on his chest as hard as I could without starting an actual fight.
“Fix this.”
“♫ He’s never gonna love you. ♫” he mocked me.
“I’m just doing my job. Fix this. Talk to the higher-ups or whatever you do, and give Tyler the credit he deserves.”
Ted’s eyes behind his big round glasses inspected the paper, without really reading it. In fact, he almost seemed disgusted he was even holding it.
“What’s in there for me?” he then asked.
“I won’t tell anyone that you’re a petty jerk.”
“Not helping.” Ted insisted.
“I won’t tell anyone that you’re a classist petty jerk, is that better?”
He slammed the paper on the desk, visibly offended by that last statement. “I’m not any -ist you stupid know-it-all. I studied hard and I’m working hard, and you can’t blame me for disliking someone who GPT-ed his way up here.”
Clearly this was escalating into an actual, animated, verbal fight, but to be honest I did want to hear Ted’s side of the story… blind accusations aside.
“Do you have any proof that those guys GPT-ed their way up to the top?”
“No.” he admitted. “But I do have proof that Tyler flirted with my girlfriend last year.”
This seems like a big accusation, and it would be, but there’s a small detail that Ted is omitting, and if his “attack pattern” is always the same, I simply need one question to get to the truth.
“Ted, did this happen before or after you two broke up?”
Lucky for me, Ted is a bad liar, so he remained silent.
“I can’t believe it. You were doing this again. You were gaslighting me, you prick!”
“I dislike those guys, OK?! I didn’t know it was illegal!”
“No one said you have to like them. Feel free to burn with hatred for the rest of your life.” I was tired of this conversation. I reached for the paper on the desk and handed them to him again. “I just want us to do our fucking job without being petty bastards, is that clear?”
Ted took a deep breath and regained his composure. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” I simply said.
“But you take the credit. I don’t want that hog to get any close to me.”
“OK… fine?”
“Literally fine. See you tomorrow night then, if you’re still up for it.” he put Tyler’s paper under his coat and buttoned it up. “Have a good day.”
“You too. And yeah, see you tomorrow.” I said, finally getting to work for real.
And just like that, I was alone at last in that dusty old place, surrounded by more nameless History waiting to be recognized.
— — —
Sunlight again, the thing I pretend to hate to act dark and mysterious. I worked a bit more than I had to, as I got lost reading an old legal document.
Another day went by, another autumnal evening greeting me as I stepped out of the Archives. I’d like to go to my apartment to rest a bit, maybe get rid of this dusty checkered shirt, but yesterday Mark invited me for a beer. Since I’m passing by anyway, I’ll check if the so-called “bullies” are at the Cafe already.
As I got there, I looked for them from a distance, only to get ambushed from behind before I could even recognize the sound of their skateboards -Mark’s and Tyler’s at least; Brad was right behind them, walking. He’s the biggest of the three, didn’t even need to run to keep the pace.
They greeted me as if I was an old friend and then walked together towards the Cafe, sitting on some stools by a sunset-lit table outside.
“I had to convince them of course.” Mark said, jokingly, talking about me joining them for a beer.
“Yeah, because we hate gay people apparently.” Brad added.
“No worries, you’ll learn to hate me for who I am, not because of my sexuality.” I played along.
We ordered a round of beers and, as promised, Mark paid for them -but I decided I was gonna pay the second round, no matter what. Those are very easygoing dudes; they actually remind me of my buds back home.
We started chatting about our backgrounds and how we got into this study center, discovering surprisingly common experiences in our stories, such as having been behind schedule.
“We’ve been here since last year. This place is more in shambles than it looks, but it pays the bills.” Brad explained.
“Well the Archives are holding up, I can tell you that.” I said. “They’re a bit dusty and dark, but hey, it’s the Archives. I’d be disappointed if they didn’t seem haunted.”
“Only thing missing in this husk of a campus is a poison swamp.” Tyler joked.
“We’re historical geographers by the way. Tyler’s a specialised architectural historian instead.” Brad said.
“I could tell, I’ve read his paper.”
“Yeah he’s actually one of the 4 people who did.” Tyler joked. “Including us of course.”
“You’re way too hard on yourself.” Brad stated. “You got skills, man.”
“Pull my finger and I’ll show you how skilled I am.” he kept joking.
That earned some immature laughs from us.
I do wonder if Ted is actually gonna fix it…
“Once again…” Brad turned to me. “I can assure you we’re all published historians here.”
Tyler pinched the small black stud glinted on his left ear -something that I’ve just noticed he does often apparently- and just stared funny at Brad in response to his sarcastic remark.
“Just Wasps acting like the smartasses they think they are.” Mark commented.
“Still mad about yesterday I see.” I observed.
“Don’t you dare.” he pointed at me. “Beers are on me as promised, but I know you’re one of… them.” he said, giving Tyler and Brad a disappointed glare. “That’s the only reason a gay man would every buy an ugly-ass backpack like that.” he added, referring to my Wasp-branded bag.
I laughed… it is kind of ugly. “Hey, we won fair and square.” I replied, knowing very well how annoying that will sound to certain supporters.
“Ohhh he’s going there.” Tyler whispered, taking a sip of his beer, noticing Mark playing along, but becoming visibly annoyed, not by me, but rather by the Lobsters getting their ass kicked the day before.
I didn’t want to get too bold so soon though.
As the evening slowly turned into a night, we ordered a second round of beers and kept chatting about our jobs and backgrounds. While Brad is very sporty (he truly is a jock), he’s as of now almost completely focusing on his academic life. Mark and Tyler are kinda the same when it comes to research, but also occasionally still compete in skate contests.
“I’m the best one.” Mark bragged.
“I can totally kick your ass.” Tyler said.
“Oh you got the best tricks, huh?”
“Sigh Pull my finger and I’ll show you my best trick.” Tyler said, repeating that same silly joke from before with a concerning amount of self-awareness.
“Slow down, Thunder Tyler, we have guests.” Brad said.
“Well you gotta show us some tricks then.” I commented. “With the skateboard I mean.” I quickly added.
“Are you sure?” Tyler asked. “Because… I feel a big one coming…” he pulled a face, pretending to push one out, bending sideways on his stool, before his friends stopped him.
More immature laughs. “You’re desecrating this great institution.” Brad cried.
And here I feared that I was getting too bold.
More beers arrived, in the meantime.
“I just realized…” I said, as I took a sip. “Is it just me… or does this beer suck?”
They laughed, as if they were waiting for me to finally notice it.
“Westfork is in shambles my dude.” Mark said.
“This place’s unofficial motto is basically Count Your Blessings.” Tyler remarked.
“Yeah that’s why we’re gonna fly South for the weekend.” Brad said.
I got curious. “Huh, where are you three going?”
“Oh no, better dead than having those idiots at my place.” Mark said, referring to his two friends and co-workers here at the table.
“We’re going home for the weekend.” Brad clarified. “Tyler’s staying because he’s got a date, for reasons no one can fathom.”
“Westfork sucks ass but you can still find someone throwing a decent party on Fridays.” he explained.
As he said that, his phone on the table notified a couple of messages.
“Let me guess, Grace? The archeologist?” Mark asked.
Tyler simply snapped his fingers and nodded in response, eyes glued on his phone.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” Brad said, with a defeated tone.
A couple of more hours and beers went by, and I ended up paying -gladly- all the rounds except the first one, much to those “bullies”’ dismay, who swore they’ll never make me pay for anything else for the next month -should we keep hanging out.
We parted ways, not before them telling me to say ‘Hi’ to Ted on their behalf. 1:00 AM, I forgot it was still Thursday, I gotta work tomorrow morning. I rushed back, well, home, exhausted, slipped into something more comfortable, before finally collapsing on my bed.
A party, huh?
I guess the soul is still going strong then.
— — —
FRIDAY
I was alone in the Archive today, closely inspecting some mislabelled books from the 1800s. It’s like the guy who worked here before me didn’t even try. It’s English, goddammit!
The otherwise silent (and peaceful) day was interrupted by my phone getting a couple of messages from Ted, reminding me that we have to attend to an aperitif tonight, at the Conference Hall. I don’t mind this kind of formal events from time to time, and even though I sort of had a fight with Ted… he can be… decent I guess… sometimes… rarely? I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.
As I wrote a few texts back, with my other hand I tried to reach for another book without looking… only to have it handed to me.
The scream I let out was remarkably high-pitched, not proud of it, and my racing heart almost got stuck into my own throat. It took me a few blurry seconds to recognize the tall silhouette of the man visiting my dark lair.
“Whoa. Whoa!” Tyler laughed, understandably amused by my reaction, stretching his arms forward. “Are you ok?”
I stared at him, his face half-hidden in the shadows, while I patted my own chest as if I wanted to make sure my heart was still there.
“No.” an answer that promptly made him laugh more.
“Well Jeff, if you die in front of me right now, I’ll make sure to get you the best flowers.” he stated. “What the fuck did you do, man?” he then asked, visibly excited, happy even.
I guess Ted kept the promise.
“It’s nothing, really. I just talked with-“ but he cut me off.
“I already got like a dozen of emails of people praising my paper. Dude… this is awesome.”
“Ted did most of the work. You should thank him.” I explained.
He snorted. “Pfft, he’d rather drink bleach than talk to me… so I guess you’re getting a double-sized thank you.”
Well, Ted did say that he didn’t want to take any credit, so I’m not gonna insist, and by doing this I’m keeping my promise instead.
“I… I literally don’t know what to say, really.” Tyler sounded extremely grateful, but also a bit confused, considering that we basically just met.
“Let’s just say… you owe me a beer, and we’re even.”
“Not Westie’s disgusting piss-beer that’s for sure.” he replied.
He stared at his phone, pinching the black stud on his left ear, as he -I assume- read another e-mail regarding his paper -I could tell he was smiling despite being so dark.
“Why did you help me…?” he asked, eyes still on the phone.
“Oh… you know, just because.” I simply said.
“Pfft. Weirdo.” he replied. I deserved that.
My heart was still racing fast… but not because I got startled, not anymore.
“I… I gotta get back to work.” I then stated. “And you’re not allowed to be here.” trying to sound as polite as possible.
“Oh yeah of course.” Tyler said. “I know you archivists get all… ya know.” he then proceeded to do an impression of my manly scream.
“It’s like looking into a much taller mirror.” I replied, unimpressed.
“Thanks again, Jeff. I’ll see you around.” he said, as he disappeared into the darkness of the Archive -the sound of a door opening confirming that he managed to find the exit.
Well, that’s one case closed I guess.
Back to work, back to cursing my predecessor.
— — —
“I’m surprised he came to say thanks.”
Unsurprisingly, Ted wasn’t exactly cheering at the idea of having helped Tyler, but he was taking it much better than I expected. At least he wasn’t monologuing about him and his friends being hogs or bullies this time.
“He was happy, if that makes you feel better. Which it won’t, which in turn amuses me.”
He rolled his eyes, unamused.
The aperitif went well, I got to meet some of the so-called higher ups, and some of them seemed already quite happy with how I’m handling things at the Archive -but nothing screams “promotion” yet, it’s been barely 3 days, after all.
Ass-kissing aside, the night was going well, with the event ending at around 1:00 AM, which was honestly good for my social batteries.
Ted and I were taking a walk around campus, just randomly chatting about work and the people we met tonight -and the disgusting wine they served us (when it comes to beverage in Westfork, this seems to be the norm). It was very cold and dark tonight, the lamps in this part of the campus not working properly, but we could tell we were close to our residential buildings -which are in front of each other.
“Well, Ted. It sure was nice hanging out with you as if you were a human being for once.” I joked.
“Don’t get too used to it.” he replied.
I was gonna make fun of him a bit more, but we both tripped over something.
While Ted grumbled around, slowly getting back up, I quickly extracted my phone and turned the flashlight ON, so I could properly see what (…or who) made us fall.
“I guess the party went well.” I commented, Tyler’s shaved head reflecting back much of the light coming out of my phone’s flashlight.
I stood up, staring down at him; he was only wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, snoring loudly, occasionally mumbling something. Yeah, he’s totally drunk, full hangover.
Good thing we weren’t jogging.
“Heh!” Ted said, gleefully enjoying Tyler being wasted. “Now this makes me feel better.”
“Come on.” I stated. “Give me a hand. We can’t leave him here.”
“Yes we can.”
“No we can’t.” I snapped back, getting riled up, as I tried to haul him up by myself, rather unsuccessfully.
Reluctantly, but still showing some surprising glimpses of humanity, Ted gave me a hand.
“Just to be clear: I’m only doing this because I find Tyler being a waste of oxygen rather amusing.” he said.
“How generous.” I replied. “Where do we park him?”
“Well, the city dump is not far from Westfork.”
“Ted.”
Tyler was by now sleeping while standing, muttering something intelligible from time to time, if not communicating with a mix of sounds and belches, the idea of collaborating completely out of what-was-left of his mind.
We slowly made it to the front door of Ted’s building, an impressive feat considering we were basically dragging a human-sized heavy sack of potatoes.
“Can’t we just call his hog-friends?”
“They’re out for the weekend.” I explained, breathing heavily. “Let him crash at your place for tonight.”
“Absolutely not.” Ted yelled, letting Tyler drop on the floor -the sudden weight almost making me fall with him.
I ignored the loud thud he made, completely unfazed, as he heavily face-planted the floor, focusing on Ted instead.
“We’re literally in front of your house.” I whispered in frustration -I didn’t want to draw attention to us.
“First you want me to like him… then you want me to help him… and now you want me to sleep with him?!” he hissed.
“Of course, Ted. Make sure to send me pictures once you’re done, hashtag #aftersex, ok?” I said, then slapped his chest. “Stop acting like a bitch and help me drag him inside! My ass is freezing!”
“Oh I’ll drag him alright, but not into my house.”
Ted displayed an impressive amount of strength as he hauled Tyler up on his own (before letting me help), powered by the sheer force of anger and spite alone.
Very slowly, we took the longer route, as we had to reach the other residential building across the small square, where my apartment was instead.
“This guy’s your problem, not mine.” he muttered, as we got to the front door.
“Yes yes, thanks Ted. I’ll send you some flowers.” I hastily said, reaching for the keys in my pocket, Tyler’s weight getting worse somehow.
Once we got inside, we managed to climb a couple of flight of stairs, almost doing an impression of Sisyphus, before finally getting to my apartment on the 2nd floor. Westfork being mostly empty was a blessing, since we were just the three of us messing around in the middle of the night -which, considering the situation, is a great thing. Basically, no witnesses.
We dropped Tyler rather unceremoniously on a small couch near the entrance, in what was essentially my living room with a small kitchen area in a corner. Ted called it a day.
“Well, I got my hands dirty enough for tonight.”
He was remarkably annoying… but in the end he did help me all the way up here. “Sure, thanks.”
“Normally I’d say no problem, but I hate this guy, so fuck you.”
I just casually patted his shoulder in response. “Whatever you say man.”
“See you tomorrow.” Ted said, adjusting his glasses, before walking out of my apartment, closing the door behind him.
And there I was, alone, staring down at this messy, snoring guy who barely fits into this small couch, his legs hanging off the edge. I wondered whether I should wake him up to explain what the fuck was going on… but I was exhausted, so I too called it a day.
“Whatever.” I scoffed, and went to my bedroom.
— — —
SATURDAY
My alarm-clock did its job a bit too well by waking me up… after a couple of snoozes, at around 9:00 AM. I can handle beer, but there was something in that wine last night that made me dizzy quite fast, though those hours of sleep made me anew, and the light stomach-ache I feel could very well be related to the fact that I’m starving -Aperitif are terrible if you want to have a proper dinner.
Still lying in bed, wearing only a white t-shirt and a pair of shorts, I silenced my phone to check some messages and e-mail, though I don’t have to work neither today nor tomorrow. I was supposed to be at home for the weekend, but seeing what’s Westfork is up to on my first weekend kinda made me curious. Whether it was parties or some cultural conventions, I was up to it. Or you know, even just resting seems fine, considering I’m a lazy ass.
I kept lying in bed, relaxing while listening to the muffled chill lo-fi music coming from the living roo- why is there music coming from the living room?
It then hit me like a train: I have a guest.
I wish I could blame the wine for me not remembering this, but you know I just woke up, please understand.
Tyler probably made himself at home, as I heard some noises of him probably messing around the kitchen, and indeed a faint smell of fried eggs reached my nostrils. Is he cooking breakfast?
I got up, held my head in its place, then went to the other room. As I opened my bedroom’s door, the music got louder and I indeed saw Tyler cooking, the pleasant smell greeting me first. Kind of like me, my temporary roommate was only wearing a blue t-shirt and a pair of shorts, which I then realized those were a pair of boxer briefs sporting a peculiar star-themed pattern: his grey sweater and blue jeans were dumped on the couch he slept on.
“Morning.” Tyler turned to me, hands still focusing on the meal.
“Morning.” I mumbled, as my brain took his time to properly boot up.
“Hope you don’t mind the music. I used your laptop by the way, checked for some e-mails.” he casually said, pointing at small table in the middle of the room, where my laptop was.
I rushed to it, since me forgetting things is the norm lately, making sure I didn’t leave any… weird tab open in the last few days, but luckily there was nothing. Besides this, I didn’t mind at all, and the playlist he chose was, well, chill.
“It’s fine.” I finally said, sounding a bit more… alive.
As my brain finally booted up completely, I sat by the table, pushing my laptop aside.
“Are you actually cooking breakfast?” I asked, as if I’ve been blind the whole time.
“Oh yeah. Least I can do, Jeff.” Tyler simply answered.
The guy seemed much more lively and upbeat than I expected.
“How are you… you know… doing things?” I asked, in the most confusing way possible. Luckily, he got the point.
“My head and stomach are a mess, thanks for asking.” he laughed. “But I got some more feedbacks for my paper, I don’t have time to suffer.”
He put two plates on the table, each containing a… very well-made croque-monsieur. He sat on the other side of the table and started by cutting it in half, letting the scorching inside get some air.
“I mean I kind of suffered -not telling from which end- in your bathroom like 1 hour ago. I’d stay away if I was you.” he joked.
“Exactly what I wanted to hear while eating breakfast, thanks.” I played along.
We took a couple of bites of our food, enjoying the meal.
“I was a mess, wasn’t I?” Tyler asked, with a smile that was a mix of embarrassment and pride.
“I’ve seen worse.” I said. “Ted and I were walk-“
“Ted?” Tyler replied.
“Yeah, he’s petty but he’s not a villain.”
“I did hear that you were the one insisting though.” Tyler said.
“It’s fine, don’t mention it.” I brushed it off.
“You heard me and Brad talking about the jogging accident, didn’t you?”
I did, but I wasn’t eavesdropping.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” I tried, very clumsily, to act smooth. Tyler chuckled and shook his head in response.
“Well, either way, thank you.” he let me have this one.
“This thing’s delicious by the way.” I said, my mouth stuffed.
Tyler laughed. “Can you tell that to Mark and Brad, please?”
“I’d rather not get involved.”
“Too late bro, you dragged me to your place while I was wasted, you’re in the team now.” he said. “Also, I owe you a big one.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No.” Tyler, suddenly turning somewhat a bit more serious. “You’ve known me for like 2 days and you helped me so much. I gotta do something in return.”
“Believe me, it’s fine. Plus, this breakfast is enough already.” I legit was really enjoying it.
“Are you really sure there’s nothing I could do for you?” Tyler insisted.
“Look.” I said. “Normally, I’d put here sexual joke, but I don’t wanna get too bold with someone I just met.” I joked.
“So, no sex? Bummer.” he played along. “Which is basically what happened with Grace last night by the way.”
I admit my gossip-loving ass was dying to know what happened exactly, yet I didn’t want to be, you know, nosy.
“It’s none of my business.” I’m such a fake bitch.
Tyler instead kept talking about the night before, much to my pleasure. Apparently, they were in the middle of a conversation (which he misinterpreted as reciprocal flirting), then she just casually introduced his boyfriend to him.
“Ouch.” I very deeply commented.
“Nah… it’s all my fault.” he admitted. “I totally misinterpreted how she acted around me. Turns out she’s just a really social person.” he took another bite of his breakfast. “She’s cool. She’s smart. We had fun. She didn’t stop being an interesting person because of this.”
“She’s an Archeologist if I recall correctly.”
“Yeah, pretty cool stuff.”
“I guess she’d like you more if you were a fossil.” I suggested.
Tyler chuckled. “I’m no fossil, but I’m certainly History to her. I guess I’m more of your type instead.”
How did I not blush to that remains a mystery to this day.
I didn’t want to ask for more details, so naturally I bluntly asked if this was the reason he got drunk, because I’m a clown. Tyler didn’t seem to mind and smiled politely.
“Nah, I got wasted because I’m an idiot, that’s it.”
“I’ve been an idiot multiple times myself, so no worries about it.”
“You basically saved me.” he said, then laughed. “I will find a way to return the favour. Trust me.” it almost sounded like a fun challenge to him.
I smiled and nodded at him. Seriously, I didn’t want anything in return, not because I have to act like some kind of Saint or anything -I’m sure lots of people would have done the same, I’m not special.
My temporary roommate finished his meal and stood up. “Coffee?” he asked.
I was in the mood for a coffee, but I didn’t even take a shower yet. Tyler sort of read my mind.
“And yes, I know I seriously need a shower, that’s why I’m leaving you alone after that.”
I just looked at him, this tall, slim guy acting like he made a blood oath to please my needs.
“A coffee’s fine. Let me put some actual clothes on.” I said.
“Same. I need to take a quick piss first, if you excuse me.” he replied, cautiously walking towards the bathroom, as if he was expecting my actual permission, which wasn’t needed of course.
On his way he also took his clothes off the couch.
In the meantime I went back into my bedroom to prepare myself -didn’t take long. As I stepped back into the living-room/kitchen, Tyler was still in the bathroom, door closed, but I could hear him, well, taking a piss (those thin doors aren’t exactly noise-canceling…). I silently waited, lo-fi chill music still softly playing, while I mindlessly browsed the web on my laptop. Then, among the various noises a man can make while using a restroom, I heard it loud and clear, despite being supposedly muffled: it was unmistakably a long, rumbly, deep-sounding fart, so loud, so distinctive, that it almost sounded like a fake stock sound you’d hear in comedies, its power easily surpassing the music playing from the laptop in front of me. I couldn’t ignore it, even if I wanted to -Tyler wasn’t kidding when he implied that he almost destroyed the place.
I tried to focus back on my inbox but the fart just wouldn’t stop, it was hard to not listen to. How long has it been? 15 seconds? 20 seconds? Why am I like this? But finally, after reaching a high note, it just stopped. Kinks aside, I almost bursted into laughter: that was insanely good.
A few moments later Tyler showed up in the living room, just casually glancing at me as to say that he was ready to leave whenever, as he pinched his left ear, where the small black stud is. Was he aware that I heard all of that? Or am I thinking too hard about this because I have this weird-ass kink? Let’s face it: it’s definitely the latter, so I just ignored it as much as he did.
— — —
Outside, Tyler and I were greeted by a pleasing, cold-ish breeze. We decided to have a coffee at the one and only Cafe this place has to offer (you love hating it!). I was surprised by how much more lively Westie was this morning: despite many people leaving for the weekend, it seemed much more crowded than the other days. We kept walking, Tyler occasionally greeting some acquaintances, and also kept chatting about what we do.
“Yeah that’s how it is for me.” the so-called “bully” explained. “The more I learn about the Past, the more I realize how trivial some of the shit you see today is.”
“We never truly changed.”
“Yes and no. We’re the same, we also got better, yet some things are never going away, don’t they? I mean, fucked up things aside, it’s all so tirin- hey dude!” Tyler casually bump-fisted a guy passing by, then resumed talking. “I hate sounding preachy, I myself hate people when they’re preachy, but come on, it’s 2025.”
Basically, Tyler seemed like a very open-minded guy who just doesn’t care.
“Take kinks, for example.” he suddenly said. I got startled for a millisecond. “They’re super weird, but that’s part of the fun. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The question kind of caught me off guard. “Sure. To each their own I guess.”
“Exactly. There are tons of kinky historical figures. Even Napoleon could get kinky, so why should you care.”
I know this is actually about History, but those things seemed a bit too… specific. I know I’m not the main character of the Universe, and I’m sure I’m reading too much into it, but still…
We finally reached the Cafe, not as crowded despite the rest of Westie having lots of people strolling around -further proof that his place probably served piss- and sat on a couple of stools outside. After we ordered some coffee, Tyler pulled out a tobacco pouch and put it on the table.
“I like elbows for example ahah.” he confessed, while rolling himself a cigarette. “It’s super weird, not obsessed or anything, but you’d agree it’s not something you’d normally look for in a woman.” he admitted.
“Who am I to judge?” I stated. No, seriously.
Tyler cackled at my response. “Elbow kink, not exactly the topic you’d expect a published historian to talk about, huh?”
“It’s fine, just don’t make fun of my scrawny elbows.” I joked.
“No worries, you’re not my type.” he finished rolling and casually handed me the cigarette.
“Thanks.” I said, gladly accepting the offer. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. I'm just trying to return the favor in small doses. Throwing stuff at the wall to see what sticks.” he explained. “Good thing you accepted it -that means I don’t have to unleash any crazy backup plan for now.”
“It’s fine Tyler.” I said, not addressing him mentioning a ‘backup plan’ at all. “I’m happy I could help, plus it was basically my job.”
“Oh so you always drag people around at night?”
“Only if Ted hates them.” I joked.
“Good luck dragging 8 billions of people around then.”
Two cup of coffees were placed in front of us -by the smell, I could tell it was going to be the worst one I had in years… but the company made it worth it. A fair trade I guess. Tyler seemed to think the same, about the beverage at least, judging by his facial expression after he took a scorching sip.
“I can’t believe my body ran on this shit last year -but that paper wouldn’t have written itself.”
“Sacrificing your stomach for the greater good. I’m sure it was worth it.”
He took a quick puff of his cigarette before speaking, and smiled at me. “Oh, it is now.”
“Are you planning to write anything else?” I was curious about this: I genuinely really liked his paper and take on the subject he chose.
“Probably. I’d like to delve deeper into Spain’s architecture over the centuries. It’s a fascinating mix of styles. It gets weird. I like weird.”
“Well, I’m hyped.” I said. “I’ll talk with Ted -might as well start warning him now.”
Tyler chuckled in response. “I already owe you enough.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
We eventually had to finish our disgusting coffee, so we got done with it in one big sip, right after taking one last puff of my cigarette.
“Well, that sucked.” I heard Tyler commenting, before he could even realize that I went inside to pay.
When I got back to the table, he almost looked mad. “Are you doing this on purpose? Do you enjoy making me mad?” he asked, sarcastically.
“It’s just coffee.” I simply said.
“By the way.” he said, changing the subject, as we walked away from the Cafe. “I got nothing to do today. Feel free to crash by the Old Birch later. I got beers -and not Westie’s piss-flavoured ones.”
“Sure, why not.” I accepted the invite. “If that’s okay of course.”
“No, I invited you because I expected you to refuse, obviously.” he amicably patted my shoulder then went on his way. “See you later, Jeff.”
I stood there for a couple of seconds, my eyes following him as he walked away, until he disappeared behind a building. Ted only said this to make fun of me, but he wasn’t wrong: I’m totally crushing on this guy, for fuck’s sake. He’s as cultured as he’s attractive, a deadly mix. But he’s straight, so I’m gonna respect the obvious boundaries while enjoying a good beer with him later.
I went back home, to my new home, and finally took a long overdue shower, and then spent the morning reading and resting like the sloth I aspire to be. So far so good I’d say, if I had to rate this first weekend at West-
I can’t stop thinking about Tyler, dammit.
Despite my best efforts at staring at the very interesting empty ceiling above me, my mind kept being elsewhere.
How hypocrite of me, to make fun of Ted’s 90s goggles, only to fall for the most basic tropes in the book: a tall, snarky, good-hearted, open-minded, bad boy-looking cultured man? Wow, my tastes are so out of this world.
He’s straight, I keep repeating over and over in my mind; not because I need to stop myself from doing anything weird or stupid, but just a reminder for my heart to not get disappointed by something I already know.
The guy’s cool, no doubts about it, and so are his “bully” friends. And he’s also the author of this paper you really like. No need to overthink: let’s hang out, you don’t have to prove anything.
It’s not like you never had a boyfriend anyway, you know how to handle those feelings. There’s nothing wrong about having feelings anyway, so you better put some clothes on, go to the Old Birch, and have a beer with your newest pal.
Stop being weird.
But he likes weird!
Just stop being stupid then.
Feelings are good, feelings make us human.
Hang out, have fun.
OK, but…
What if he finds out? He won’t.
What if he suspects it? Why would he?
I just know I left a tab open the other night on my laptop, curse me for forgetting things so easily lately. Of course he found about my kink.
No he didn’t. Yes he did.
He was just being nice to the weirdo who brought him somewhere safe while he was drunk. He probably doesn’t even want me by the Old Birch, once again he was just being nice.
Or maybe he is nice because you’ve been nice to him? People seem to get along when they’re nice to each other, what a concept.
Alright, enough overthinking for today.
I’m greatly making this far more complicated than it is.
Let’s have a beer.
— — —
I got to Old Birch (or what’s left of the stump, at least) around 6:30 PM, a fairly decent time. But first I stopped at a bar just outside Westfork to grab a few bottles of beer (didn’t take long, and anything beats the piss they serve in here). Tyler invited me with the promise of a few beers, so the least I can do is bring some myself.
Meanwhile, a cool autumn breeze picked up. I spotted dark clouds on the horizon let’s hope the weather doesn’t get worse. Either way, beers in hand, I walk up to the Frat House door and knock. Same as last time, I hear muffled rock music, low volume, but still audible from outside: Screaming Eagles, I know this band. Nice one, Tyler, good taste!
And Tyler himself didn’t take long to open up, greeting me quickly with a nod and silently waving me in, like I was an old friend he’d known forever.
“Make yourself at home” he said as I followed him into the living room, the same one where I’d first met Brad and Mark.
He seemed distant, if not cold, but then I noticed he had earbuds in -maybe listening to a podcast or a phone call. He motioned toward the couch, the part not buried under papers and chip bags at least, and I sat down. I pulled the beers out of my infamous, Wasp-themed backpack and set them on a low table in front of me. Beyond it, on the floor, sat a big TV with an old PlayStation 4 running (the console’s main menu on the screen). If he wants to play some Trekken, I’m ready to kick his ass.
“Hey.”
Tyler appeared in front of me, pulling out his earbuds and tossing them onto the couch. He absentmindedly moved some papers aside and sat down too, on the other end—not right next to me. He was wearing a dark blue sweater and jeans. No shoes, just some goofy socks with stars on them. He’s into star patterns I guess.
“You brought beer?!” he said, noticing after a few seconds. “Man, you’re just trying to bury me in debts with you!” he joked.
“Well, you got me: I’m the etiquette loan shark,” I joked.
I opened two bottles of stout (luckily I carry a little ring that doubles as a bottle opener) and of course handed him one. Tyler seemed to particularly enjoy the flavor I’d picked.
“Fan of stouts?”
“I prefer blonde light ones, but on the weekends I’m kind of a rascal.”
Against all odds, Tyler chuckled at my cheap humor, while absentmindedly moving his earbuds from the couch to the table.
“What were you listening to?” I asked, while the Screaming Eagles kept playing softly in the background.
“A podcast on architecture, obviously. Looking for ideas for my next paper.”
“No Spain?”
“Sì Spain, the podcast is in Spanish.”
I smiled at the twist. “You speak Spanish?”
“Unfortunately less than I’d like. But I can tell you, without a doubt, that contrafuerte is buttress.”
It was my turn to chuckle at something stupid.
“Ah yes, buttress, the most important term in the history of architecture.”
“I’m more of a boobtress guy.” Tyler casually commented, as he took a sip of beer. “But butts are fine too.”
“Already past your elbow phase?”
Tyler laughed at my daring joke. “Dude, kinkshaming, really? From you? Of all people?”
“That was a fair question.” I kept going.
“I’d rather answer questions about my next paper.” he said.
That was actually very interesting: mere days ago I had no idea of wrote that paper, and now I could ask for spoilers to the author himself.
“Well, in that case, are you gonna focus on Spain as a whole or just, for example, Andalusia?”
The so-called “bully” took another sip of his beer, eyes glued on me, smirking and studying me as if I was a flying buttress.
“I don’t wanna bore you with the details.”
“No!” I stated. “Please, bore me to death! Make me regret I came here!”
He laughed, but immediately kept his promise, diving straight into highly detailed discussions on the currents that influenced Iberian architecture, moving on to an analysis of the huge amount of ornamentation that defines churrigueresque buildings.
At first, as usual, I thought he was just being polite, but it didn’t take long to realize he genuinely loved talking about this stuff and was very proud of his studies. I haven’t known him long, yet I noticed his recurring gesture of scratching the small black stud on his left ear, a tic that, being a mess myself, I almost started finding endearing. Still, I didn’t indulge in interpretations -did he do it when was he nervous? happy? bored? or maybe the piercing simply itched, it happens.
Tyler overall gave me the impression of being one of those people who might seem a bit cold at first but, once they open up, they’re hard to close. And, I want to be clear, it’s a trait I really appreciate, as much as I appreciate his open mind, his chill vibes, and, of course, how cultured he is.
We continued sipping beer, commenting (sometimes jokingly) particularly divisive architectural styles, and we both agreed that yes, the neoclassical façade of the Frat House was nothing special.
“I thought we’d bond over, like, Screaming Eagles, not… spires!” Tyler remarked, noting that the Eagles playlist was still going.
I took another sip of beer, savoring the strong flavor. “No worries, once I kick your ass in Trekken, you’ll hate me like Ted hoped.”
“Dude, you’re challenging me to Trekken… seriously?”
Tyler didn’t need to be told twice, and, I swear, almost like a Jedi summoning a lightsaber, a gamepad appeared in his hand.
Our cultured discussion on Iberian architecture was followed by a fast, intense, and competitive fighting game session. I don’t brag about many things, and I’m not a pro-gamer by any means, but when it comes to Trekken, I’m the master. Back in college it was my comfort food basically, a great way to vent after a long day of studying (and my roommate still hates me for how much I wiped the floor with his in-game body).
That said, I have to admit, Tyler gave me a run for my money: sometimes I kicked his ass, other times he kicked mine, and we both seemed to enjoy having found a worthy opponent.
Final round of the tiebreaker, we open another beer, tension at its peak, while outside starts to rain (those clouds from before weren’t kidding). A kick, a punch, an easy block, I do my best, but the skater next to me has tricks I hadn’t expected.
I’d love to say that I let him win, but no, he won, fair and square, with a combo I never learned to block even back in prime days.
“Wooooo.” Tyler jumped up, cheering -I’d never seen him that energized.
“Fuck!” I simply remarked.
Brad’s words came to mind: this is a place of published historians, and yet we’re very maturely insulting each other over what is essentially a toy (worth every second).
He theatrically brought a hand near his ear (not to scratch it this time), as if eavesdropping on something; just a way to call me out on what I said moments before about me owning him.
“What was that, Jeff? I thought you were a pro…?” he said, standing near the TV. “And yet… I can’t hear anything now. Nothing. What happened? Too much archive dust on your tongue?”
Credits where its due. He was good, I accept my defeat, but not without a touch of my usual pettiness on my part. I stood up, rolling up my shirt sleeves.
“Alright, alright, I’ll let you admire my elbows, as promised.”
Tyler smirked and silently accepted my tease this time, no response.
Did I go too far? Did I hit too close to home? It wasn’t obviously my intention to embarrass him over something like this… I’m no pot and he’s no kettle.
He just stared at me for a few seconds, his tall figure easily towering over me.
“Are you familiar with glass architecture?” he casually asked, but I could tell there was a catch in that question.
“I don’t think I am…” I admitted.
Tyler stepped back to the couch and sat in his spot like before, reaching for the beer on the small table. After he took a sip, he resumed talking. I sat down again as well.
“Well you should be.” he stated. “Since you seem to live in a glass house.”
I pretended to have no idea where he was heading with this.
Maybe my overthinking side was onto something after all…
“And yet here you are, throwing stones as if your walls are made of concrete.”
The beer stopped having any taste, ‘cause my mouth got dried up. Needless to say, Tyler’s words made me very nervous. With the exception of like-minded people, no one knows about my kink, no one in my friend circle does. They all know I’m gay and I’m happy to share funny or weird stories about my experiences, and they’re all more than willing to listen, but this kink, like many other kinks… it’s just weird, gross, maybe hilarious to some people, but still something very personal.
The fact that a guy I just met was obviously teasing me about it was messing with my guts: I wanted to leave… and yet… Tyler didn’t look mad or weirded out, for now at least.
“What did you see on my laptop this morning…?” I sighed, no need to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about.
The skater laughed a bit. “I only saw a few frames but I believe it was a this big, tall stud destroying someone’s face with his farts in some kind of office.”
Yep, that’s the one. What’s funny is that I didn’t even cum to that fart video that night (another classic porn did the trick): I simply forgot I had that other video paused in another tab.
I never trained for this kind of scenario: a friend (at least, I assume I can call him a ‘friend’) just found out about my fart fetish, and he seems oddly chill about it. My heart was racing fast, I was terrified, but I didn’t feel in danger or anything like that. I turned red however, ‘cause the embarrassment was off the charts -something that Tyler noticed.
“Hey, you can relax.” he said. “I basically told you I don’t give a shit this morning, right before coffee.”
“So you were talking about me when you said something about Napoleon’s being kinky.”
“Sort of. I wasn’t playing the part, I truly believe everything I said, so you can stop holding your breathe and relax.”
“And yet I feel like you want me to leave.” I had to make sure.
“Trust me: if I wanted you to leave, you’d have known.”
A few moments of silence followed, only broken by Screaming Eagles, well, screaming something about perseverance and determination… I don’t know this is one of their newer songs, which I’m not a big fan of to be honest.
We kept drinking a bit more, the silence leaving me alone with my thoughts: there has to be something fishy going on here. Tyler seems cool but I can’t expect a straight guy, or any guy I just met to be honest, to be just so casually chill about this.
“Look man…” I said. “I don’t want any trouble.”
Tyler looked a me, amused and puzzled. “What’s that supposed to me-“
I cut him off. “I can let you into the Archives, if there’s something you need for your paper. Just, please, don’t tell anyone…”
He laughed, mockingly. “What… what’s going on here… you think I’m blackmailing you?” he stood up, looking confused by what I just said. “Do you think I am some kind of creep?”
“What?! No!” I immediately responded, noticing his tone getting more serious. He almost sounded offended, even. “It’s just that… come on Tyler. No one’s that open minded.”
He took a sip of his beer, staring down at me. “So you think I’m like the King of open minded people simply because I didn’t kick you out of the house? Is the bar that low?”
The so-called “bully” seemed more puzzled than anything else.
“I do think it’s really gross and weird, if that makes you feel better, ok?” he said, but didn’t sound mean spirited. “But hey, I like weird, weird is fun, maybe not my kind of fun all the times… but what do I know, I’m just the elbow guy.” he joked.
I didn’t want my overthinking side to take the wheel, but I couldn’t stop being mildly suspicious. What if Ted… wasn’t right but… was onto something at least? No, this can’t be, Tyler has no reason to keep me guessing, he seems very direct when it comes to this stuff; then again I just met him basically, so perhaps he’s actually very different. Dammit, my head is exploding, I didn’t know I’d find myself in a situation like this… in Westfork of all places.
“So… that’s it? You just don’t care?” I simply asked.
“Are you disappointed that I don’t?” he laughed. “Come on Jeff, it’s 2025, open your mind.”
Something in me sparked a chain reaction that made me actually angry. I couldn’t help but thinking this guy was toying with me.
“And you-“ I stood up and stepped in front of him, with the intention of speaking face-to-face (literally). That was the intention at least. “-are a bit taller than I remember.”
Tyler was unfazed. I sat back down, no need to get aggressive. I didn’t drink much, but being nervous didn’t help to focus. The so-called bully was just smiling at me being awkward I guess, and sat on the couch again, this time a bit closer to me.
“Maybe another losing session in Trekken will clear your mind.” he teased.
I took a deep breath. Ironically enough, I was the only one in that room not accepting the situation, so I stopped overthinking things and just accepted that Tyler was just teasing me like any friend would do, no ulterior motives.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of mad at you.” I joked. “And I’m gonna channel that into my gaming skills.”
We resumed playing. Admittedly, this time it was a bit more awkward for me, I was distracted, but I was still holding my ground nicely, winning even easily sometimes. We kept chatting about our studies while throwing kicks and punches, or commenting at some obviously illegal move that the other pulled off.
“By the way…” Tyler said. “Told ya I’d find a way to return the favor…”
I was too focused on the screen and Jin getting his ass kicked to properly realize what he meant by that. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lean slightly forward, without stopping the game. At first I assumed he was simply doing that to focus more efficiently on the match, but the couch shaking told a different story.
Tyler was farting.
He was, without a doubt, ripping a big one.
At first I didn’t even hear it, due to the Eagles and the game especially being louder. However, the sound coming out of his ass soon took the stage over, despite being muffled.
The fart was long, meat-y, manly, rumbling nicely on the couch through his loose sagging denim. Needless to say, that totally distracted me from the game, and Tyler, while still roaring from his ass, took that to his advantage to deal the final, winning blow. As the match ended, so did his farts: he then turned to me, with a mischievous smile, knowing very well what just happened.
How long did that last? I believe around 13 seconds, an impressive feat. My pants efficiently hid my boner, but it wasn’t just the fart that made me hard: it was the the whole package. I loved Tyler’s chill, cocky, yet friendly attitude. He was pushing all the right buttons without even trying: I already found him attractive for many reasons, but this was basically the icing on the cake.
It’s not like I find any fart in any situation to be hot: yes I have a fart kink but it’s not always “active”, so to speak.
I couldn’t believe what just happened, to put it simply.
Not even in my wildest, gross fantasies I could imagine this happening.
“What the fuck.” I muttered.
Too much noise going on in my brain, this was the only sentence I managed to produce in the span of around 30 seconds of awkward silence. Once again, Tyler was unfazed, he truly didn’t seem to care.
“You have weird ways of returning a favor.” I observed.
“Says the fart fetishist.” he remarked. Once again, he didn’t see mean-spirited as he may sound.
“Touchè…”
We put our gamepads on the small table and opened two more beers, silently toasting to whatever the fuck was happening in that room.
“Then again… I told you, you don’t owe me anything, let alone this.”
Tyler was unaffected by my words, just a guy chilling on the couch, his eyes glued on me as he had his beer. A few moments of silence, then it was his turn to speak.
“Why did you help me?” he bluntly asked, again.
“Which time?” I smiled.
He smiled back. “Both.”
A few hours ago I probably would’ve just said, “Because it was the right thing to do.” Kind of cliché, yeah, but as true now as it was then. Still, I can’t really pretend that’s the whole story, or that I’m some kind of Saint.
“I really liked your paper. Fixing screw-ups like the one you ran into is literally my job, and hey, it gave me a solid excuse to mess with Ted.”
The skater snorted at that last remark, his beer almost shooting out of his nose.
“The second time it was more serendipity I guess. You seem cool, you got cool ideas…” Tyler was looking at me amused, fully aware that I was still omitting some details. “And since you already know my deep, dark, gross secret anyway, I suppose that telling you that I find you attractive is the least weird thing you’re gonna hear from me.”
Yeah I don’t care anymore either.
I don’t even feel embarrassed.
Tyler laughed. “Fuck off, man.”
“Excuse me?”
"Now I owe Mark and Brad ten bucks each!"
Okay, now I was confused.
What game are we even playing here?
"All this mess… just for a bet?" I asked, my tone turning more serious.
Tyler looked caught off guard, and for a moment he got serious too, realizing he may have made me upset.
"Oh no no, that’s just me being socially inept…” he explained, then smiled at me. "But yeah, Mark and Brad thought you might like me. I didn’t. Thanks for making me lose the bet."
I’m not a fan of messing with people’s feelings… but that wasn’t exactly what was happening here. It was clear this was more of a lighthearted bet, and the way Tyler reacted just now showed that the idea of making me unsettled made him just as uncomfortable.
"Don’t think badly of them…” he went on. "Brad and Mark are the best bros anyone could ask for. They already adore you, by the way," he added, laughing again. "If anything, blame me: first Grace, now you… I guess I’m just terrible at figuring out if someone’s into me or not!"
I stared at him for a few seconds, then I couldn’t help but laugh. This guy is weird, and I know that’s bold coming from me. And sadly, I too like weird. Of course he’ll never like me the way I like him, but to be honest, who cares? This has been such a rollercoaster for me so far, considering that he’s aware of my kink, that I almost forgot that just being, you know, friends, was even an option.
Tyler took a long sip of his beer, fully aware that he deserved to be laughed at.
“I’m glad you’re having fun.” he said, the sarcasm so sharp it could cut through the air.
“I’m sorry man. Weird is fun, you said that.” I recalled, wiping some tears off my eyes for how much that made me laugh.
“That’s bold coming from you.” he teased. Yep, that’s also what I thought.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.”
He scratched his left ear one more time, then smiled. He put the beer bottle down on the table and slowly stood up.
"Well then, from one weirdo to another…”
He just stood there, his eyes narrowing a bit. He pointed up to shush me before I could say anything. And just like that, a sudden thunderous fart echoed in the room, raw and manly just like the one before, incredibly loud and powerful. And long. As the fart kept going, his comically relieved face turned into a smirk, and then stared down at me, fully aware that the whole situation was doing numbers between my legs.
After 11 seconds, silence again (even the Screaming Eagles playlist got shush’d).
That was unironically one of the best farts I ever heard. It sounded… juicy, and given who the farter was, I’m surprised I wasn’t going crazy.
Tyler nodded at me after he was done, as if he just finished saying something very important (which was true, in a very gross way). The smell slowly reached my nose, but it wasn’t as bad as I expected.
“Still convinced you have to return the favor… like this?” I said.
“You’re absolutely right.” Tyler remarked… then stepped closer to me. “After what you did for me in the last few days, the least I could do is this.”
With a deft movement he grabbed my head and, as he turned around, he pulled it into his denim sagging ass. He lifted his left leg a bit, and another fart erupted.
What the fuck.
Of all the things I was expecting to happen in Westfork, this wasn’t even on my spare bingo card. I don’t think this would be on anyone’s bingo card, really.
How did I end up being face-farted by this man? By the author of my favorite paper? We were talking about spires and playing Trekken, and about 1 hour later I’m getting my nostrils destroyed by one of the loudest farts I ever heard -being so close to the source certainly helps.
Tyler was a skilled farter, no doubts about this, not anymore.
He just finished ripping a huge one, and mere seconds later here he is, roaring again, this time in my face, unleashing a fart that was just as powerful (if not more) as the previous one. I didn’t even oppose to him grabbing my head like that, and just enjoyed the show.
If I took this whole “returning the favor” thing as seriously as he did, then after this fart I’d be the one in debt. Beyond my wildest kinky dreams.
And.
It.
Was.
Still.
Going!
16 seconds perhaps?
And it’s not like it lost some power or anything like that: it was a continuous loud stream of gas, with Tyler stretching his left leg more and more to ease the fart out. Despite my face being glued to that ass, I managed to take a good look at the rough denim ticking my face, and the sagging black underwear which, funnily enough, displayed the same patterns of his socks. Great fashion sense!
Now the stench was up close and personal and I take back what I said before: it was raunchy. My nostrils were burning, my eyes watering again.
The tent I pitched between my legs got even sturdier.
I totally gotta update my mental bingo cards after this.
Finally, after 21 seconds (21!), the fart stopped.
Tyler pushed me away from his ass and, as if nothing happened, collapsed on the other side of the couch, smiling satisfied, amused by the whole situation, eyes glued on me, waiting for my reaction.
"Am I special, or is that how you welcome all archivists?"
That earned a good laugh from him.
“Can you imagine if I said yes?” he joked.
I didn’t need to imagine anything.
Not anymore.
— — —
We briefly thought about leaving Westfork and going somewhere else for the night, but the bad weather (and a certain laziness) quickly made us change plans. The earlier rain had turned into a full-blown storm, so we opted to just chill on that couch, talking. We both had no personal plans either, so we simply decided to spend the evening together, doing nothing.
I lost count of how many beers we drank (Tyler even brought out some of his own stouts).
Regardless of any feelings on my part, there was a certain understanding between the two of us (no I’m not biased). I enjoyed Tyler’s company, but Tyler himself, despite everything, seemed to genuinely enjoy mine too, even in silence.
I took a drag from the cigarette kindly offered by the bro chilling on the other side of the couch, his legs extended toward me, letting me admire the star pattern on his socks. He was rolling a cigarette for himself, the only background noise the rain outside.
And a thunder.
“Wasn’t me this time.” Tyler promptly joked, focusing on the rolling.
I coughed some smoke out because of that.
“Thunder Tyler… a well-deserved nickname.” I commented.
That’s the name I heard Brad use the other day at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if that sparked from his farting skills, but I’m sure there’s more about it.
“Not the whole story.” Tyler chuckled, lighting the fresh-made cigarette.
I adjusted my position on the couch, so I was sitting facing him now, ready to listen to his tragic backstory.
“Some years ago me and Mark were skating in a crowded park, we were just messing around, then all of the sudden I landed a trick by slamming the board hard on the asphalt, causing a loud boom that echoed for several seconds. I didn’t even do it on purpose, don’t even know how it happened, but the nickname stuck as you can tell.”
“Fascinating.” I commented, finishing my cig.
“But yeah, those idiots quickly found other uses for it.”
A quick, loud toot took over the silence, around 3 seconds long. Tyler pulled a face as he ripped it, and the sound, while not being wet, wasn’t pretty either.
“Fuck.” he whispered.
“That sounded painful.” I said. And the smell didn’t help.
The smell of tobacco mixed with the gas lingering in the room, creating a deadly combo for my lungs.
“Westie’s shitty coffee having unpredictable effects even hours later. You’d have loved hanging out with me when I was pulling all-nighters for my paper ahah.”
He also got wasted last night, can’t ignore that either.
I took a poof of my cigarette, bewildered by how chill Tyler was being about my kink. I didn’t feel derided or anything, quite the opposite actually. Plus, he was a human fart machine, each rip being loud and proud: can’t get any better than this.
“Did you ever have any experience with your kink?”
Tyler’s question was oddly more serious than it sounded, but I couldn’t blame him for being curious. He likes weird, and the person on his couch has a weird kink. I was more than happy to answer.
“A couple of times, yes. Last time with my ex, pretty chill guy.”
“So this is literally your first time with a straight guy.” he observed. “Scandalous.”
I laughed. “What about your kink instead?”
“No comment.” he said, finishing his cigarette, smoke surrounding his face.
“Hey, I answered your question!”
“No one forced you to answer.” he remarked.
“Fair point.” I admitted.
Tyler adjusted his position, pulling himself closer to me, repositioning his legs in the process. His left leg was now resting on the couch backseat, fully exposing sagging ass, the loose jeans almost looking like a wall of denim, dangerously close, and pointed towards me. Clearly he was going to fart again in a bit, and the fact that he did all of that so nonchalantly renewed my boner.
“But yeah, some girls thought it was odd, nothing to write home about.” he explained. “Your kink is much more peculiar.”
That last sentence was followed by a loud fart exploding inches from me. I got startled, even though I was expecting it. By the sound of it, I could tell this was gonna be one of the long ones. Tyler’s face was relaxed, eyes half closed, visibly pushing the gas out.
I wanted to bury my face in there as the fart erupted. I was so close to doing it, and considering that he already farted in my face anyway, he was probably expecting me to voluntarily glue my face to his ass… but I didn’t. As silly as it may sound, given the context, I didn’t want to cross any boundary… but the temptation was strong.
He’s such a hot man. Rough-looking, but extremely kind and gentle. Cultured, playful, open-minded. Hold on a second, I’m gonna put my clown make-up on for the next one: tall. As I said, the fact that he’s the fart master is a welcome addition to an already wonderful package. And do I love such addition.
This one fart lasted 12 seconds, the smell completely engulfing my side of the couch. That made me cough, which Tyler found amusing, so he didn’t move, letting the stench coming out of his ass torture me a bit more.
“I guess I should say ‘thanks’?” I asked.
“How polite.” he played along.
Another fart suddenly erupted, loud, proud, a bit more high-pitched than the previous deeper ones, and shorter, about 3 seconds.
“Unlike me.” he snorted.
I’m gonna plant my face down there, yep, I’m gonna do it. I can’t take it anymore. That ass is way too tempting.
No, I will respect boundaries, doesn’t matter how weird it gets.
Tyler seemed to read my mind however, not that he needed to given my idiotic facial expression as I stared at his ass; I felt his left leg push me down, using his foot to keep my face close to his sagging ass.
He wasn’t kidding when he said that he was gonna return the favor in small doses, ‘cause this time the fart was not a huge thunder, but rather a series of short, loud toots. He didn’t say a word as this happened, letting his ass do the talking apparently, and how talky it was being! That sounded more like a huge, long fart with many interruptions which, considering what Tyler is capable of, was probably exactly that.
At this point the stench reminded me of Westfork’s coffee, which indeed smelt as terrible as it tasted. But the real star of the show (besides the ones on his socks and underwear) was the sound, always roaring, always thunderous, always pleasing to my ears.
Both of his feet now kept my head in its place, as I endured all the farts being fired back-to-back like a pro. My glasses dampened for how hot, both literally and figuratively, that was. Just two bros spending some quality time together, nothing to see here.
What I assumed was the final toot of that series (the 16th one if I didn’t lost count) turned out to be a more “classic” fart, long and meat-y, lasting about 9 seconds and ending the parade.
Finally, I heard Tyler laugh a bit, his feet letting my head move again, so I sat back normally, even though there was nothing normal about this… and I was loving it.
Now that I could see him properly again, not just his ass, I noticed he was rolling himself another cigarette: did he face-fart me while he was doing that? I gotta say, pretty impressive multi-tasking.
And yet… I didn’t want him to be like my fart-dispenser. Yeah, kinky fun, but the idea of him feeling forced to do something as weird as this, not a fan of.
“Alright, even though you didn’t owe me anything, let alone this.”
“You mean this?”
Yet another quick, short toot.
Is there something in Westfork’s water?
No, we just said it was the coffee.
Though I’m sure this guy got talent either way.
“As I was saying.” I remarked, after his ass stopped interrupting me. “I hereby declare that we’re even, ok?”
Tyler was unfazed by my words and kept working on his cigarette.
“No, we’re not even, not yet.” he said, the most serious he ever looked. “Unless you want me to stop of course.”
Please don’t let me take such decisions: I was living in a dream, a dream which I never wanted to end, but everything has to end eventually, even gross, kinky dreams.
“Don’t tease me with a good time.”
Wait, did I say the quiet part out loud?
Judging by Tyler’s smirk, I guess so.
He put his cig on the small table and stood up, easily towering over me.
Didn’t say anything, and walked towards me.
Once again he reached for my head and gently planted it into his sagging ass, the smell from his previous rips greeting my nostrils as expected.
“Why are you doing this…” I quietly asked, expecting a different answer for some reason.
“Oh you know… just because.” he answered. “Also, I’m a bully I guess.”
I felt his buttcheeks relax and mere moments later yet another loud fart began. They were getting a bit more high-pitched, but otherwise it was still deep-sounding. If this was video, I would have said that the fart sounds were clearly fake, stock-sounding, but no, they were all real, all comically loud and chainsaw-sounding. Other than hot as fuck, of course. His firm grasp on my head made the whole thing even hotter: I’m not even that into dominant guys, but Tyler walking the thin line between being a bully and a good friend was driving me crazy, a farter that could bite as loud as he barked -this sentence was probably never meant to be said, but here we are.
The fart was still going, unsurprisingly. My nose was being forcibly rubbed between his jeans and his sagging underwear, meaning that most of the time the only thing between me and this man’s anus was a thin layer of starry cloth.
As he did before, he lifted his left leg up to ease the fart out, a simple movement that almost dampened the tent between my legs.
If like 3 days ago you told me that not only I was gonna find out who the author of my favorite paper was, but that this same guy was gonna also face-fart me, I would have wondered what kind of mushrooms were you on ‘cause you were not making any sense and also how do you know my secret fart kink, you weirdo? And now here I am, my face planted into this guy’s ass as he’s masterfully ripping a fart so loud, and so long, I’m surprised I didn’t go deaf yet.
Or cum on the spot.
Not only the farts were huge, but they were frequent.
Brad and Mark were probably used to him by far, and ironically enough it was me, the actual fart fetishist, that was beginning to struggle to keep up with this guy’s talent.
Where did he even store all this gas?
15 seconds, just a random fart from Tyler Landoon Evans, move along everyone.
And all of this because I, fundamentally speaking, did my job as an Archivist.
Can I ask my boss to get paid like this? With Tyler making sure I get paid?
Am I getting too thirsty?
No words from Tyler, as he kept my head planted into his ass even after the fart was over. At this point anything could happen in my book, so I just enjoyed the moment, didn’t ask any question, nor started to overthink everything.
I felt his asscheeks relax again, and another fart erupted.
Or rather, a new series of farts, a bit more deep sounding unlike the ones before. Another casual fart parade, as if it was perfectly normal to fart like this.
And in someone’s face.
Loud, 2-4 seconds toots, all ripped back-to-back.
And yet the idea that this was once again a huge, long fart disguised as a series of rips didn’t leave my mind.
Tyler pushed me deeper into his ass with each fart ripped.
I wondered if he was ever going to run out of gas at that point.
I’ve never seen anyone IRL blasting farts like this.
My glasses almost got crushed by his powerful ass, as my nose inched even deeper between his sagging cheeks, the scent of the farts now mixed not only with smoke, but with the musky, sweaty interior of his ass.
We smoked, and yet I was high on farts.
I lost count of how many times he was farting this time.
We’re way past 10, that’s for sure, and I forgot what clean air feels and tastes like. Didn’t miss it.
Oh, there it is again, the parade-closing longer fart.
I could tell those were getting harder to rip, and yet Tyler was pushing them out… just for me? Weirdo.
What a peculiar way to express gratitude.
In a twisted way, farts have been once again a great ice-breaker, regardless of any kink. I admit I was nervous before coming here, because of my attraction to Tyler… but as soon as he started farting I was like OK, we’re both weirdos I guess.
Couldn’t be happier.
The fart stopped after 17 seconds, followed by Tyler’s sigh of relief.
He pushed me away from his ass, put his hands in his pockets and turned around to stare down at his smelly victim. As soon as his eyes met my startled expression, he laughed.
“Are we even now?” I asked, one more time.
He smirked. “We’ll see in a bit. I’m brewing a big one.”
“A big one?” I asked. “Sure, because those were so sma-.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” he cut me off, whispering.
The stench lingered all around me. Well, us.
But I was so used to it I didn’t mind anymore, kink or not.
We had an undeclared staring contest in silence, complete silence, as the storm (the one outside I mean) stopped throwing a tantrum and gave room to what looked like a calm, cold night.
“Lay down.” he then commanded. “One final trick.”
He was being assertive, though it was clearly part of the “show”.
So I obeyed -or rather, played along.
The idea of him sitting full-weight on my face (which I assume is what he was planning to do) made my boner twitch dangerously: I was gonna explode.
And apparently, so was Tyler, in a different way.
I removed my glasses, putting them somewhere safer, and laid down on my back, a cue for him to step closer and just straight-up sit on my face, the view of his sagging jeans and underwear preceding complete darkness. Tyler was tall, quite slim, but still quite heavy. My face was being crushed under that smelly, warm ass, and now that I was one with his anus I almost feared for what was coming next.
“Thanks for everything, Jeff. I’m gonna miss you.” he laughed.
Yeah, this was going to be hard to endure.
And indeed it was already: the fart started loud and proud, nothing new so far (but not any less hot), but it immediately felt raunchier than the previous ones, if not a bit wet. My whole face, and probably the entire couch, was vibrating due to the sheer power of that incredible display of flatulence. Tyler adjusted his position as he farted, as if I was part of the cushion, the pitch changing accordingly as well.
My cock was reaching the event horizon: I couldn’t resist anymore.
I was gonna cum on the spot if I wasn’t careful, but feeling the fart-quake all over my body didn’t help.
10 seconds, the fart gave no signs of easing out. Instead, it got even louder and raunchier. What’s up with Tyler’s stomach. What’s going on in his guts. This is not just coffee, this is a man with incredible skills. And like coffee it smelt by the way, rancid, rotten coffee. For a moment I feared that… extra stuff was coming out but nope, just a raunchy anus doing its job perfectly, only pure, putrid gas.
Surprisingly enough, after around 8 more seconds, the sound got deeper and even more vibrating. I heard Tyler grunting, though it was hard to hear anything over that blast destroying my nostrils. The thunderstorm didn’t stop: it just moved into my new bro’s ass to assert dominance.
I laid down there, getting a face-full.
I once again wondered how I even got there.
How it was possible to fart like this.
How it was possible to be this chill and open-minded.
There was no way he did it “just because”.
And yet here I am, enjoying the most incredible fart session I ever experienced.
With a chill, no-strings-attached, straight man, of all things.
But most importantly, with a friend.
A friend who was going to murder me with his farts, but still a friend sure.
Though after 30 seconds of uninterrupted gas one has to wonder if the farter was indeed trying to kill me.
I felt dizzy, and not just for the gallons of beer we chugged.
The gas was inebriating, it made me high almost.
I closed my eyes and let Tyler “return the favor” as long as he wished.
He didn’t have to do it, but I’m glad he did.
I almost passed out, totally losing the grasp of how long this fart was lasting. 50 seconds? 60 seconds? This is my life now, bury me under this ass, it’s not like I’m going anywhere soon. My eardrums were being tested just as hard as my eyes and my nostrils, my poor, defenceless, burning nostrils.
Tyler moved a bit more, this time leaning forward, and the fart got even stronger with what was probably its last, roaring gasp. And after reaching 70 seconds in total, it stopped, silence again, a silence broken by Tyler snickering like a jerk.
The skater stood up and moved on the other side of the couch, finally letting me breathe in some fresh air… well, fresh air compared to that. The entire room smelt like smoke and ass anyway, but trust me it was an improvement.
I too sat back normally, and just looked at him, I didn’t even need to ask the question.
“Yeah, now we’re even I guess.” he simply said, scratching his left ear. “Even though, let’s face it, it will never be enough.”
“Dude.” I said. “I just did my job.”
“Whether you like it or not, I’ll always owe you one.”
“My pleasure.” poor choice of words, given my boner, but you get what I meant.
And luckily, so did Tyler.
“Okay, I hope you don’t mind but I gotta open the windows now.”
Can’t blame him. Even I was gasping to get some fresh air.
I can’t even imagine how it must feel for him: the living room was gas chamber.
“Oh not at all!” I replied. “I was gonna do the same believe me.”
Some actual, real, fresh, cold air got inside, and I remembered what autumn felt like. The calm after the storm.
“Pizza?” Tyler casually asked, as he opened another window.
I was so focused into not letting my cock blow up that I completely forgot that, as human beings, we’re supposed to eat something for dinner. Totally lost the track of time.
“How could you possibly want to eat after all of this? Also, your stomach is a mess!”
“I’m hungry.” he shrugged.
“Ok.” that was enough for me. Plus, I’d never say ‘no’ to pizza.
“Deal. There’s a place just outside Westie that makes very good pizza. Let’s go.”
I can’t leave the Old Birch like this. I’m rock hard and smell, well, like shit. You don’t get to smell nice after you got showered in farts by a talented man like him.
“There’s something I have to deal with first.”
Tyler smirked, knowingly. “Down on the right.”
I didn’t even say thanks and sprinted towards the bathroom.
He was totally aware of what I was gonna do, other than washing my face and drown in deodorant of course.
Truth to be told… I didn’t care.
He sure doesn’t, why should I?
The bathroom was surprisingly clean, considering how messy the rest of the house was, but I didn’t have time to properly admire the colorful tiles. I locked the door behind me, as I heard the muffled Screaming Eagles start singing again, and did what was long overdue.
I sat on the toilet, pulled my hard cock out… and I didn’t even need to touch it. It just exploded, believe me. It was like I was pissing cum. My eyes rolled back for the enjoyment. I felt dirty, I felt kinky. I felt good. That was an orgasm, a silent one fortunately, but holy shit, I couldn’t take it anymore I swear.
That guy in the living room listening to the Eagles while waiting for me is the whole package; a fantastic, cultured stud that could bully me with his farts forever.
But no, that wasn’t going to happen.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how nice he is, how kinky or weird things get: Tyler is not into me like that.
No need to overthink any of this.
The boundaries are there, and I’m gonna respect them.
A friend, however? Be my guest!
Kink or not, I’m glad I met him.
Well, them.
I splashed my face with water, the cold helping a lot to clear my head and make sense of what had just happened. I stared myself into the mirror, the image a bit blurry ‘cause I left my glasses into the other room, yet everything was clear, everything was good.
— — —
Didn’t take us long to reach Westfork gates.
It was around 10:00 PM, the post-storm humidity was cool and pleasant, and the clouds had cleared, leaving patches of starry sky. On the short walk on the wet, sometimes flooded streets, Tyler told me about the time Mark got his foot stuck in a manhole, ‘cause it felt relevant.
I spotted the pizzeria sign just across the street (good, that means I hadn’t forgotten my glasses at the Old Birch!), right across from one of the main entrances to our study center, perfectly visible from inside the campus.
“You weren’t kidding. It’s really close.”
“Yeah, the locals figured out Westies’s got awful products, so they all set up shop nearby.”
Flawless business logic.
“Pizza’s on me, by the way,” I said, picking up the pace.
Tyler smirked. “Trying to get me in your debt again?”
I turned towards him, walking backwards.
“And I haven’t even told you yet: Monday at lunch break I’ll be waiting for you at the Archives.” I added. “All the sources you need, right at your fingertips.”
I don’t know why I was doing this.
Maybe, unconsciously, I was matching Tyler’s whole “returning the favor” thing to the hot good time I had today. Or it was my turn to return the favor.
Or maybe -it can many things at once admittedly- this was just what a friend would do, right?
Tyler smiled at me, appreciating the gesture.
“Alright, Jeff. I’ll let you help, no strings attached.” He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. “But this pizza’s on me.”
He sped up too, passing me with ease.
Okay, now it had turned into a race… a very mature race.
I swear we’re all published historians here!
Not bad for my first few days on the job, huh.
And I’ll admit it, if Ted hadn’t helped me haul this huge weirdo into my apartment last night, none of this would’ve happened.
Who’d have thought… I actually owe him one!
The never-ending circle of debts keeps going!
And yeah, I guess Ted was right about at least one thing: maybe it’s a stereotype, maybe it’s not, but despite not being a proper University anymore, the college soul of this place was still alive and kicking, from the picturesque charm of its Georgian-styled brick buildings and libraries… to the immature, sometimes gross shit guys can do each other.
Welcome to Westfork, I guess.
Shit, I forgot my backpack.
The End
The story includes some AI-generated slop images. They're just for show, and any similarities to real life are purely coincidental.
Writing is all mine.
I woke up next to Gabe, I kissed him on the cheek and went to shower and get dressed. I wore a red hoodie,black jeans and black sneakers. It was about 6:40 so I decided to make some cereal Gabe later walked out of my room and into the bathroom. “You know guys I’m tired of this waiting for the contest stuff, how about we handle this now” Roberto said while getting off of the couch. “ I second that vote, lets do right now” Alec said while laying down on the couch, I nearly choke on my cereal after hearing what they said.“ I don’t agree with that, plus we have classes in the morning” I said while wiping milk off of my face and the table. “We can do it this afternoon” Alec said while walking towards me. “ I’m busy this afternoon, I have plans for today” I said moving his hand off of my shoulder. “And what are those plans,we’re your only friends"Alec said while sitting down at the table. (The table we had was just a simple table with two chairs at it). "I was planning on rea-) which was all I was able to say before Roberto interrupted me . "Just face facts, we’re having this contest this afternoon at 7:30 straight into the night, so that I get the master bedroom” Roberto said while getting a glass of milk.I chime in “Actually 7 is more of into the evening ” I corrected Roberto as Alec then punches me on my shoulder “Afternoon, Evening who cares? I don’t. Because soon you will be eating my farts from my beautiful ass.” Roberto said he then pulled down his jeans and then pulled down his underwear a little bit and and released a 3 second fart that just smelt milky and it felt hot, he then pulled his underwear up and then his jeans but leaving his jeans sagged. I start fanning it away. and after what Roberto said I got nervous like butterflies in my stomach because I couldn’t even handle Gabe’s farts but now I had to get farted on by all of them just thinking about made me want to throw up. My train of thought stopped when I heard Roberto bang on the bathroom door. “HURRY UP IN THERE” Roberto said while trying to force the door open, I check my watch and notice that it was 7:10 and I was the only one ready. Gabe then walked out and as he came so did a rancid stench, “OH MY GOD! WHAT IS Th–” that was all could get out before I started gagging, it smelt like straight up shit the stench flowed through the apartment. “You guys can’t complain y'all rushed me before I could use any air freshener.” Gabe said with a big grin on his face almost looking proud of what he did. I go outside to escape the stench as Gabe follows behind me. “Sorry about that babe that food yesterday was not sitting right. Anyway you wanna go on a date tonight. "I cant really Alec and Roberto want to do that whole contest thing tonight” I said awkwardly, “Why can’t they just be patient, I didn’t even think we were taking that whole thing seriously.” Gabe said visibly annoyed. “But who wouldn’t take the opportunity to gas out those lungs of yours and fart on that cute face you have.” He said while he had his finger in my face he then planted a big kiss on my cheek.“Well maybe when we get can go somewhere at six and then get back in time at 7:30” he said smiling looking so optimistic “Yeah sounds like a plan” I said with a smile “You need to hurry off too your classes before you’re late” Gabe said motioning me to the stairs, he then slaps my butt as I start going towards the stairs. It always hurt when I he would do it not only was he strong but I was kinda flat but I always kinda liked it but it wasn’t enough for me to ignore this contest they want to do. “Wait Roman leave your keys so Alec can drive your car, I will give your a ride so we can discuss our date” Gabe said while grabbing me “ OH yeah , that’s kinda smart” I said while opening up the door as I opened it the smell hit me, it obviously didn’t fade yet, it was less powerful when we first opened the door but it was still a strong smell, I rest my car keys on the table on the side of the door, and close the door back. “Okay lets head out,before we end up late to classes” Gabe said while swinging his arm around me. We then walked down the stairs heading to his car. We got in and then he started driving. “So how about six tonight, since we’re in a rush we can just got too a bar or something, it;s Wednesday so I the bars might be empty. I nodded in agreement the rest of the ride was silent until we arrived at the university.” See ya later babe" Gabe said as we got out of his car. “See ya” I said walking in the direction of my class. " Also Roman don’t think to hard about the contest, they ’re probably not serious about that" He said noticing the obvious worry in my face. “Yeah,Yeah your right” I said while nodding.
5:40 pm
I waited outside the library for Gabe to pick me up. I waited around 10 minutes or so when he pulled up. I got in the passengers side seat and leaned over to kiss him. “ So you ready for this date, maybe a gay bar” Gabe said with a joyful look on his face. “I don’t know bars aren’t really my thing” I said nervously. “Well we don’t have to get drinks. How about burgers and then go to a park or somewhere fun.” he said grabbing my hand. “Sounds like a plan then but remember we need to get back by 7:30” I said while adjusting my glasses. “Can you got 5 minutes without mentioning that dumb competition your taking it too seriously, I don’t even remember the rules” He said looking annoyed and upset with me. “You’re right we should just enjoy right now” I said as he started driving off.around 20 minutes later we arrived at a five guys where we order some food. I order a bacon cheese burger with fries and a coco cola and Gabe orders 4 bacon cheese burgers 3 five guys fries and a milkshake. They serve us our food at 6:10 pm and we head out we walk to the car and eat our food while talking about stuff from childhood and other stuff like that. I watched as he scarfed down his food as usual. He then drove us home when we arrived I got out and made my way to the stairs. “Gabe, I had a good time today sorry if I bummed you out, I was just nervous about the contest."Babe you didn’t bum me out It was just a tad annoying but I love you regardless” He said while grabbing my hand as we walked up the stairs. We opened the door to the apartment we saw Roberto standing in the door. “Your 10 minutes late Roman, no problem lets just start now” Roberto said with a cocky grin on his face. “Oh so you guys were serious but why all of a sudden now” Gabe said walking in the door towards the kitchen chugging milk. “If I knew you guys were serious about this I would have eaten more.” Gabe chimed in from the kitchen. “Well you have been hogging the fart rag since we moved in so its only fair me and alec get turns plus we can just start this contest now and get our rooms” Roberto said while his taking off his shirt. “ And Roman I won’t go easy on you because your my friend. Roberto then pulled me from out of the doorway and into the apartment he then wrestles me to the ground and sits on my chest he then rises up and his ass down. he then rises up again but this time to pull down his jeans. only leaving his briefs. Roberto had more of a small bubble butt, he was still pretty strong though and unlike Gabe his ass was more soft he was sitting facing my legs and he just sat there until I heard his stomach growl loudly. He got up a little and tried to sit on my face but I kept moving my head to the side. "Hey one of you guys hold his head straight” Roberto yelled from on top of me.“The rules were who made him throw up first right?” Roberto said looking up at Gabe. “Yeah pretty much” Gabe responded. Roberto just nodded. Alec came up to me and held my head still no matter how much I fought he wouldn’t budge. “Now Roman, I want you to inhale all of my gas and breath in my ass musk” Roberto said as he lowered his ass onto my face: His ass came crashing down before I could even protest. I tried holding my breath but there was no use. he starts rubbing his ass on my face until the first fart came, he released a 6 second putrid cheesy fart. “Sniff” Roberto said with a stern tone. I didn’t sniff and tried holding my breath but it was still hot. “Not gonna behave okay I didn’t want to do this but you need to understand the consequences” Roberto said while bouncing his ass on my face. I then felt him stop bouncing and I can hear him grunt in pain his cheeks then clench around my nose he then stops clenching and releases a 20 second sputtering fart right into my face. it smelt like garbage and cabbage. “Now that you know the punishment, I hope you are on your best behavior” Roberto said while patting his stomach “Oh, and me and Alec stocked up on food while you two were God knows where, so we got enough gas” Roberto added. He the pushed out a 10 second loose airy fart that just smelt like his ass musk. I sniffed it scared of any other punishment. “Good too hear your enjoying that smell” Roberto said while rubbing his ass in my face. I sat shocked not even trying to protest because I was sacred of this new gas power Roberto got, he would fart a lot but they were small and barely smelt, but this was strong. He then cut a 7 second sputtering cheesy fart until I feel him get up and I quickly started breathing the fresh air as I saw Roberto make his was quickly to the bathroom. As I tried to get up Alec punched me in the stomach and then he picked me up off the floor and threw me on the couch. Alec was only wearing his favorite pair of boots, some socks and some briefs, He then plopped onto my stomach his feet near my head, he then takes off his boot and sniffs it. “Phew that is ripe” Alec said as he shoved his boot on my nose and since he had punched me and plopped his weight onto me I felt powerless and out of breath. The boot was big enough to go over my mouth and nose so I just started breathing in the fumes of sweat. He does this for about 15 minutes until he gets off. “Please let me go Alec, I will do whatever you want” I said trying to plead with my brother but just like in our childhood begging didn’t work as he took off one of his socks and stuffed it in my mouth and the got another one and tied it around my head effectively gagging me. as the sweat from his damp socks got in to my mouth it just tasted sour and salty. “That’s better look for you and now I don’t have to put up with that annoying voice of yours” Alec said said while standing above me then Alec squatted over me and held my arms down. He then pushed out a 8 second fart that just reeked of cabbage and I had to smell it since I was gagged. He then grabbed his cheeks and released a 13 second fart that started out silent but then got louder over time it just smelt like week old hard boiled eggs. Roberto then came out of the bathroom and got angry seeing Alec farting on me. “Come on Alec I need to win this, and you don’t have a chance.” Roberto said trying to push Alec off of me. while they were distracted I took the chance to run away into my bedroom but before I could lock the door Alec bust in I saw a blanket fort was set up. Alec locked the door as I ran inside the blanket fort. “Remember this Roman, we would build blanket forts growing up I did it for when you got home at six but your were late.” Alec said but I still didn’t trust him but his playful attitude was one of his redeeming qualities since as I tried to untie the sock he stopped me and started putting it in knots. which made it harder to get it undone he them. “I thought you were smarter then to walk into a trap Roman” Alec said while laughing as he held me down and as he let out a bubbly fart that lasted 10 seconds it smelt like putrid cheese and cabbage and since the fart had nowhere to go it just lingered in the blankets. He then wrestled me down and squatted over my nose holding my hands just like on the couch. He then released 4 farts that each lasted 3 seconds that made my eyes water and made me cough. I was able to hit his thigh and manage an escape but as I opened my door Roberto was there and he tackled me to the ground he then sat on my face not saying anything or evening looking at me I smelt his ass and could tell he didn’t wipe it just smelt like plain shit he then pulled his briefs down a bit and decided to fart bare ass. Just the smell made me sick. I hear him grunt above me obviously struggling to fart not like he had too the smell of his ass made want throw up. He then rubbed his ass on my face and then he pushed out a 1 second fart that just reeked of shit. he then pushed out a 3 second fart. As I could barely see Gabe just standing chugging down milk. I then got confused why he wasn’t trying wouldn’t he want the master? I didn’t have enough time to ponder it as another fart came rocketing out of Roberto’s ass it was 10 seconds long and just smelt like hot garbage and spoiled meat. He then pushed out a 7 second fart that just was cheesy. He then got up “I’m gonna get some more food, I got this in the bag” Roberto said while rubbing his stomach. “Oh, wait I got one more ” He said as he stood in front of me while raising his leg in the air and releasing a bassy fart that last for 5 seconds and then wafts it in my direction. he got up and walked out of my room. Alec then get out of the blanket fort “I am gonna get something to drink, I am little thirsty” Alec said while walking out of my room. Me and Gabe then sat on my bed he finally removed the gag from my mouth. “So today was a lot” I said trying lighten the situation. “You got that right, I’m not even sure what was happening most of the time” Gabe said putting his arm around me. “So why didn’t you try win” I asked as he look at me confused. He then get gets up and starts to strip. “That’s actually what I’m here to do now, those two buttered you up so making you throw up will be easy” Gabe said now completely naked. He laid me down and seated his moons onto my face. “Roman our date night today was ruined by this dumb contest so I am going to end it maybe go on a second date tomorrow” Gabe said in between grunts as h pushed out a 15 second fart that reeked it was hot and milky. He adjusted himself in a way that his asshole puckered the tip of my nose. “Can’t Believe Roberto thinks he has it in the bag when I have been drinking milk all day, Roman you have first hand knowledge about what milk does to me.” Gabe said still grunting to push out fart and I hate to admit it but I knew what milk did to him like. one time in high school he pushed me into a locker, then farted in it and closed it I only got out because I texted Alec and even when Alec came he laughed his ass off about what happen. Even after stuff like that I still had a crush. I then felt a gust of heat lightly brush my nose until I get hit by the smell of it, it smells like spoiled milk and cheese. “Did you like that Roman, I pretty much mastered the silent but deadly, some may say that SBD’s are my specialty” Gabe said , I then felt a simular brush but this time even hotter and smellier. My eyes start watering and I start gagging, He then adjust himself again but this time his asshole was in the direction of my open mouth. Since I understand what he’s doing I start to scream but its muffled by his ass. “Roman my ass loves your screams of excitement so much that wants to join you” Gabe said as he then pushed out a roaring 29 second long fart that reeked of spoiled meat. the fart goes both in my mouth and in my nose as I am subjected to a combo of smelling and tasting the fart I feel throw up. I tap violently on his side with that he lets me go as I run to the bathroom throwing up the bathroom still reeked of Roberto’s shit even though I could swear it was an eternity since that happened. Gabe started cheering in excitement that he won. “Roman you and me are going to share the master” Gabe said with glee, I was still busy throwing up to celebrate the win. “But Roman you got to keep your nerdy stuff in the average room I need room for my sport gear in the master” Gabe said condescendingly. Alec had brought me a cup of water and after rinsing my mouth with water and mouthwash I go to check out master it was my first time in there and it was bigger then my room but not huge. “Okay Roman, So you can keep your bookshelves, your books and all of your nerdy school stuff in your old room you’ll just be sleeping in here” Gabe said “I will need to keep my football stuff in here” Gabe said adding on to his first statement. I looked in the hallway as Alec and Roberto move into the small rooms but the rooms still looked decent. they weren’t small to the fact that they were unlivable in. “My girlfriend is coming over tomorrow, you want us sleep in this small ass room.” Roberto said while moving his stuff into the room. “Guess that’s why he was rushing” Gabe said with his arms crossed and with a thinking look on his face, I was more confused since I didn’t know he had a girlfriend but I didn’t have enough time to think about that.“Since I will be in here I can turn my old room into a kind of library, but I would need help moving stuff around” I said to Gabe. “Okay but you would have to do something for me” Gabe said while grabbing me and throwing me onto the bed he then closed locked the door and jumped into bed. “So I move the stuff around in your room and you do anything I want” Gabe said with a grin on his. “Deal” I say in response. “So what do you want me to do” I say in following up my last statement. “Uh,we can discuss that tomorrow its like 10 babe we got class tomorrow” Gabe said. “Yeah your right” I said as I put my glasses on the nightstand I felt so comfortable in the bed that I forgot he was completely naked well I did until we started spooning then it was all to apparent. I heard Gabe fall asleep immediately snoring loudly, but I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me only going asleep at around 3 am. But when I was awake I learned a valuable lesson, Gabe is a sleep farter.
Hope you guys enjoyed this part I made it a little longer then other parts, I was just trying to experiment with a longer format so let me know if you like longer stories or shorter ones and you can message me any criticism. Have a good day
James wakes up to being slapped in the face by one of the straight security guards. “Enjoy your last few whiffs of Ethan’s shit-air, homo.” The guard says, clearly enjoying the opportunity to torment James. He rips the mask off James’ face and forces him out of the bed. “Alpha will be giving all you fags a personal fart-sniffing lesson today, hope your nose is ready.” The guard says, laughing. “Report to the classroom ASAP.” The guard walks away to the next bed to wake up the next faggot. Across the room James notices the sight of an unlucky faggot getting his faces pissed on by snickering guards. “Ugh my makeup!” The faggot whined and squirmed in his tight rainbow shirt as his faggy eyeshadow is smudged as the straight boys piss runs all over his face. The straight boys laugh at the queer beneath them, one of them squats over the faggots face and rips a gnarly morning fart to pour salt on the wound of humiliation. The faggot whines like a girl as begins to protest, to shut it up the straight boy sits full weight on its face, muffling it’s blabber. James watches as the straight boy picks his nose and wipes his snot on the faggots gay clothes. He scratches his balls as he browses through his phone, paying no attention to the faggot squirming underneath his stinking ass. James sees the straight boy strain his face and close one eye, bad news for the faggot. The straight boy let’s out a tiny verbalization of pushing right before a 4 second muffled fart is blasted down the faggots mouth. The straight boy sighs in relief and laughs as he rises off the faggots face, “WHEW!” The straight boy exclaims, his friend waves his hand to avoid smelling the stench. “Get a whiff of that...queer” the straight boy sneers at the humiliated faggot. The straight boys leave, as they do one of them snot rockets onto the faggots forehead. old fashioned bullying, never gets old.
James and the other faggots arrive at their classroom. Alpha is there, looking as buff as usual, in his signature tight dress pants, highlighting his proudest asset, his enormous rear end. “Report to your assigned seats faggots!” Alpha orders, each desk has a faggot’s name on it and a security guard standing next to it. James finds his desk and sits in it, anxious for what is to come, he’s unsure of why there’s a security guard seemingly assigned to each queer. As James sits in his desk he notices there’s a face mask on his desk. He reaches to put it on as he assumes that’s what it’s there for, before he can grab it, Alpha yells at him “faggot! don’t touch that!” James jumps and yanks his hand away immediately. “We’ve got plans with those” alpha says ominously, “in fact let’s jump right into it, as you’ve been informed we plan to put as much straight boy stink in your noses as we can, we need you faggots acclimatized to heterosexual ass stink before we set you out in the world to be used. That’s why each of you have been assigned a guard and a mask. The guard assigned to you will be rubbing that mask all over his sweaty unwashed asscrack, and of course, letting a nasty one rip right on to it, said mask will then be placed directly on your face and you are to keep it on during the entirety of this class, no exceptions. Anyone who disobeys will be punished accordingly.”
James looks up at the security guard standing next to him, he’s a handsome young heterosexual male with dark hair, tan skin, and a buzzcut. James’ handsome tormentor is smirking at him, he’s clearly excited. James gulps nervously. James’ guard leans down and whispers in James’ ear, “I’m not much of a wiper, you’re in for a treat fag.” The handsome guard snickers and then stands back upright, waiting for Alpha to give the order. “Alright boys!” Alpha says speaking to the guards, “give these faggots something to huff!” All of the guards step in front of the desks and turn around, showcasing their firm asses hugged tightly by their uniforms. The guards grab the fags masks and then pull their pants and underwear down, revealing their bare asses. James’ guard has a round muscular ass, James noticed beads of sweats on the cheeks and is immediately assaulted by the stink of his ass, causing James to wince. The guard then proceeds to shove James mask into his ass crack and wipes it up and down his sweaty hairy crack. All of the guards begin to chuckle, and banter with each other, enjoying the fact that they get to put some stink in the fags’ noses. James’ guard is really rubbing that mask around his crack, trying his hardest to imprint his stink deeply into the faggots face masks. James guard pulls one of his cheeks slightly to the left, opening up his ass slightly, so that James mask can make direct contact with his rancid hole. The guard presses the mask hard against his hole, rubbing it aggressively against it, making sure to leave a stain right where James’ nose will be. The guard pauses rubbing the mask on his hole for a moment, but makes sure that the mask is still pressed against his hole.the guard turns around to look at James, “I’ve been holding this in all morning”, the guard says with a cheeky grin. He shuts one eye and grunts as he pushes out an obnoxiously loud and bassy fart, right on to the mask James was going to be wearing for the next several hours. He sighs in relief and resumes rubbing the mask on his asshole and crack.
“Alright boys that’s enough” alpha commands the guards, they all obey immediately. “Oh and fags just so you know, I ordered all of these boys here not to shower or wipe this morning.” Alpha and all of the guards burst out laughing and high five each other. “Go ahead and put the masks on your assigned faggot, boys” James’ alpha excitedly shoves the mask directly on to James’ face, positioning the mask so that the brownish-stain left from his ass is pressing right on to James’ nostrils. James gags immediately and begins coughing. James looks around the room and notices all the other faggots squirming in their seats as their ass-masks are placed on their noses by their corresponding guards. The guards all laugh in the faggots faces, “Good work, boys!” Alpha commends his subordinates on their successful stink job. The stink inside James’ nose is almost too much to handle, he can’t believe such a handsome guy was capable of producing such a revolting stench. However, James was terrified about what punishment Alpha would dole out so he wouldn’t dare take the mask off, despite suffocating on the stink produced by his assigned security guard.
Alpha’s lesson today was about the various positions for fart sniffing. He taught the faggots about the best positions for boosting testosterone in their heterosexual superior. Alpha was particularly fond of having faggots on their hands and knees behind a straight man. A faggot on his knees grovelling at a straight man’s ass is the natural order of things. Throughout the years society had moved away from this and Alpha has made it his personal goal to return things to the way they need to be. Halfway through the lesson, one of the faggots simply cannot bear to inhale another second of the rank stink that’s being inhaled straight into his nostrils, and makes the stupid mistake of ripping his mask off and gasping for air. The large audible gasp causes everyone in the room to look towards the faggot. Alpha pauses his lesson and stares at the faggot.
“A-alpha please forgive me, I was about to be sick” the faggot pleads to alpha with tears in his eyes. Alpha says nothing and marches towards the trembling faggot. Alpha roughly grabs the faggot by the collar of his shirt and pins him to the front wall of the classroom in front of everyone. Alpha lifts the faggot up so that they are at face level. Alpha presses his enormous muscular body against the tiny frail frame of the faggot, his ripped masculine body completely dwarfs the faggots entire body, their noses are almost touching. “Please sir! I’m so sorry I won’t do it again!” The faggots begs Alpha, knowing that whatever punishment he was about to receive would be unbearable. “Oh it’s too late for that you whiny faggot” Alpha says sneering at the annoying fag in front of him, “you’ve made your bed, and now you get to lie in it.” the faggot heard a gurgling in Alpha’s stomach and complete terror shoots through his body. “OH GOD NO! PLEASE!” The faggot protests to no avail. Alpha brings his mouth right up to the faggots nose and unleashed a monstrous belch, a loud rippling burp that sounds like it was coming from a dinosaur. Speckles of alpha’s spit splatter across the faggots face as the seemingly never ending belch continues to eviscerare the faggots nose. The faggot squirms and squeals as the foul stench is inhaled directly into its nostrils.
Finally the belch reaches its end and the faggot goes limp, still being hoisted into the air effortlessly by Alpha. “P-please let me go, I’ve learned my lesson sir…” the faggot says weakly. “Oh you’re not done you dumb faggot, I got more for you” alpha says with a sneer. Alpha reaches back and shoves his hand down the back of his pants. He takes his index finger and runs it between his huge sweaty ass cheeks. “Gonna make sure I get a real good stink on this finger for you fag” alpha says as he aggressively rubs his finger on his asscrack and hole. When alpha pulls his finger out of his pants there’s a layer of slime coating the entire thing. “Oh look at that, queer! it’s your lucky day! Haven’t showered in 4 days, I’ve been cooking this up just for you!” The faggot pinned to the wall begins to cry and sob. “Oh shut up you pussy, you should be thanking me.” Alpha takes the disgusting finger and slowly swipes it right underneath the faggots nose, the faggot’s eyes roll back in its head and it whimpers as a stench comparable to hell is smeared on its face. Alpha swipes his finger back and forth under the fags nose, leaving a layer of ass slime under the fags nose, ensuring that the faggot would be smelling Alpha’s disgusting ass for at least a week after this.
The faggot goes unconscious from the revolting stink. Alpha drops the faggot on to the ground like a piece of trash. For further insult Alpha squats over the faggots head, his dress pants being pushed to their absolute limit trying to contain his massive ass. Alpha shuts one eye and grunts as a short but powerful fart loudly blows out of his ass and into the unconscious faggot’s face, blowing its hair. Alpha and the other heterosexual superiors have a good laugh at Alpha’s shit-air having enough force to blow the faggots hair. The unlucky faggot breathes in the nasty fart as he lays on the ground unconscious. “Take this as a lesson faggots! This is the treatment you can expect if you disobey me or any of your heterosexual superiors!” Even though James is sat in the back of the room he can still strongly smell Alphas pungent fart. He can’t imagine taking one of those straight to the face. He makes a mental note to never, ever disappoint or disobey Alpha. James secures his disgusting mask on even tighter, even though wearing this ass-mask is disgustingly and humiliating, it would still be 10x easier than taking one of Alpha’s ass-blasts point blank.
This story is set in an alternate universe in which upon reaching the age of 18, in all boys schools, the boys are separated from the fags. The boys begin their journey into manhood. They are taught about faggots and how to use them to maximize their own masculinity. The straight boys are taught that the primary purpose of a faggots existence is to inhale straight men’s farts. Faggots are fake men; sissies, homos, and queers. They are beneath straight men and are to be used only to serve the straight man. Heterosexual men are taught that farting in a faggots face is a way to boost testosterone and to assert masculine dominance. Besides that, straight guys have come to use faggots for entertainment purposes as well, such as having a fart sniffer for a farting contest on a boys night out. All straight men can agree that no matter how progressive society gets on LGBT issues, there’s nothing funnier and more masculine than a straight man blasting a faggots nostrils with a rippling fart. While the straight guys are being taught how to properly dominate faggots with their stink and farts, the faggots will be taught how to be effective fart slaves by a merciless headmaster known only as Alpha. Alpha is a hyper-masculine heterosexual man with homophobic tendencies and bad gas, a former pro-athlete who is notorious for his fart-based bullying.
The protagonist of this story is James. He is an 18 year old faggot who is, unbeknownst to him, about to begin his fart-sniffing orientation.
As James arrives to his all-boys school, he is swiftly whisked off to the basement of the school and thrown into a large empty room with all the other faggots in the school. The only noticeable feature about the room is that there are multiple air vents in every corner of the room. James and the other faggots were locked in this room by two male security guards. The male security guards order James and the others to get on their hands and knees and wait for their new headmaster to arrive. The only information they were given was that their lives were about to change forever and that the headmaster will arrive shortly to explain everything. James and the others pace around anxiously as they await to see what is about to happen to them. Suddenly the door to the room bursts open, and a very large man dressed formally enters the room. Immediately he is emanating an aura of dominance, masculinity, and intimidation. He is absolutely shredded, with his large muscles nearly popping out of his buttoned up dress shirt, which is tucked into a pair of black dress pants. James can’t help but notice the size of his ass. It’s the biggest ass he’s ever seen, his two round ass cheeks barely contained by his pants. Two muscular security guards follow behind the intimidating man. The ridiculously buff man scans the room, observing all of the fragile feminine young men on their hands and knees before him. James and all the others wait anxiously for the man to speak.
“Alright faggots!”” The man’s deep booming voice startles James as he jumps. “Let’s make one thing clear right off the bat” the intimidating man address to the classroom full of faggots before him “You exist only to serve MEN, as in red blooded pussy-loving, STRAIGHT MEN, you are FAGGOTS not men. That means you’ll be sniffing our farts and burps, used as a rag for our sweaty armpits and asscracks, and overall doing whatever the fuck we tell you to do” James’ jaw drops at the man’s blatant display of homophobia and the insane things he is saying. This can’t be happening.
“You may be shocked to hear this, but this school is funded by the government and they believe that keeping fags like you all in line and teaching you your place in society is necessary for maintaining social order. Do not try to resist. This is your biological purpose on this earth. My job here is to whip you faggots into proper shape to become effective fart slaves. You will address me only as Alpha. And you will obey me.”
James is shell shocked. He looks around the room to see everyone else has a similar expression on their face. He notices one boy raise his hand. “This is insane!! You can’t do this!!” The brave faggot protests. Alpha begins approaching the faggot without responding.
The faggot continues blabbing it’s mouth, “We have rights you know! LGBT rights are acknowledged around th-“ The faggot’s annoying preaching is cut short when Alpha large masculine hand grapples the faggots entire head. He swivels his hips slightly, pointing his ass towards the faggot’s face and cocked his leg in preparation. mercilessly, the queer’s face is shoved directly into his huge muscled straight-man butt. Alpha doesn’t hold back as he drills a short but potent “wet n’ bubbly” directly into the homo’s nostrils. “That’s what I think about your LXQRT rights” Alpha says mockingly as he looks down at the faggots face squirming in his putrid smelling ass, his thin muscle-less arms pathetically flailing and trying to fight back to no avail. Alpha releases the faggot from his ass, it dry heaves. “And that was with pants on” Alpha chuckles and grins with pride at the faggot gagging from the stench unleashed straight up his nose. “Speak when spoken too, faggot!” Alpha yells at the teary-eyed homo. Alpha was chosen as instructor for this crucial process due to his renowned noxious farts and strong masculine energy capable of dominating multiple faggots at a time.
“Let this be a lesson to the rest of you worthless faggots!” Alpha addresses the room of fart-sniffers. “Know your place or there will be punishments” Alpha continues while walking down the aisle of faggots on all fours, leaving them at eye-level with Alpha’s thick masculine ass, the faggots could smell his ass-musk as he walked by them, leaving a few “presents” for the queers as he walked by. Usually silent but deadly so the faggots behind him would gag and sometimes fall as he walked past them. “Any questions?” Alpha asks the class. A twiggy fag to the right of Alpha raises its hand, Alpha quickly points his ass in the defenceless queer’s face and blasts an obnoxiously loud fart that blows the faggots hair back. “Great” Alpha concludes, not bothering to look back at the faggot he just ass-blasted to see if it was okay as he walks to the front of the classroom.
“Each of you will be assigned a heterosexual to serve, later this week, your heterosexual superiors will arrive to try you out, blast a few farts up your pathetic noses and see which faggots they prefer...then a decision is made by the council and you are to serve your heterosexual superior until further notice.” Tears begin to well up in James’ eyes as he realizes this is legit and there’s nothing he can do about it. Alpha and all of his security guards dwarf James and all the others in size, they could easily overpower every faggot in the room and do god knows what to them. “You will remain in this room for the next several hours as we prepare your sleeping situation.” Alpha informs the devastated queers on the knees in front of him. “Guards! Open up the vents” Alpha turns around and begins to exit the room. His enormous ass jiggling slightly with each step. The security guards move to the corners of the room and open up the vents and quickly step back and exit the room immediately. James notices a very faint greenish/brownish haze seeping out of the vents. James’ nose has a few seconds of peace before it hits him. An extremely strong stench hits James like a truck. James and the other faggots almost immediately realize what’s happening. Their heterosexual peer’s farts are being ventilated through an air system into the sealed room containing the faggots. James and other faggots gag on the repulsive eggy stench penetrating their sinuses, as they are forced to inhale nothing but rank straight boy ass fumes. Their eyes well up as they all begin to cough and panic, banging on the door to no avail. This process is done to prepare the faggots for what is to come and to acclimatize them into their inevitable futures, also just for shits and gigs, nothing like watching faggots squirm and squeal as their noses are pounded with straight dude farts.
After hours marinating in the stink, the security guards enter the room again in gas masks. They head straight to the vents and close them, then removing their masks now that it’s safe for them. James and the others are so weak from inhaling straight boy gas for hours that they have no energy to resist or fight back. One of the security guards addresses the queers, “alright faggots, we’ve graciously set up your sleeping areas, we will now be escorting you there, don’t bother fighting back, you’re all to weak compared to us anyways.” The security guards aggressively herd up the faggots and escort them out of the stench-filled room and towards where they will be sleeping for the foreseeable future. As the security guards escort them they shameless blow farts into their faces, it’s completely normal to them.
The room they’re sleeping in is filled with bunk beds, and large speakers in each corner of the room. James notices each bed has a gas mask next to it with a tube that connects to the ceiling. One of the security guard explains what the mask is for. “Alright faggots, you’re gonna be wearing these masks all night while you sleep, and what is being pumped through those tubes you ask? A constant stream of straight dude gas.” The guard laughs gleefully. “Our goal is to have you inhale as much heterosexual gas as you possibly can during your time here. These masks will be secured to your face so that you cannot remove them. Each mask corresponds to one of your heterosexual superiors, you can see whose farts you’ll be inhaling on the label of the mask. The speakers in the corner will be playing an audio recording of Alpha proving you queers with some psychological conditioning. Now let’s get you fags in bed.”
The guards guide each queer to their respective bed. James is roughly grabbed by the back of his neck and shoved into his bed. James looks at his gas mask and notices his label says “ETHAN.” James knows who Ethan is. He was an immature homophobic bully in James’ class, he loved to pick on James in the most childish ways. The guard aggressively straps the mask on to James face. “Enjoy, faggot” the guard whispers in James’ ear. Immediately James’ sinuses are flooded with a cheesy stench, james can tell exactly what Ethan ate today...a egg sandwich for breakfast...beans for lunch...and cabbage rolls for dinner, he must’ve known James had his mask tonight, he’s farting like a beast. The overhead speakers turn on for their nightly psychological conditioning. The faggots drift off to sleep to the sound of verbal degradation. “This is where you belong, faggot” James listens to the overhead announcements as Ethan’s farts continue to wreck havoc on James’ nostrils. “Youre nothing but a worthless fart-sniffer” One of Ethan’s farts is particularly potent and burns James’s nostril hair and eyelashes with its reek of rotten eggs and spoiled milk. James groans in humiliation, he can just imagine Ethan,laughing at him now as he gags of his straight-boy gas.
Several months ago I found an app called ‘Smelly love’. It’s a gay dating app for guys with a farting fetish. There’s only a couple hundred active users but I found someone who’s incredibly near. In fact he attends the same college as me.
His username is ‘Romeo Skunk’ and his profile pic is just like mine, of his midsection, from the neck down. Though, while I have a swimmer-build, he’s ripped, rocking a chiseled 8-pack.
We've been chatting daily for several months now. It all started within the first hour of me downloading the app. He slid into my DMs.
Hot user pic. Just the kinda body I wanna rip ass on
He ended it with a mushroom cloud emoji, turning me on. And we’ve been in touch, getting closer and closer, ever since.
We’ve finally decided to meet up in my small studio apartment since he lives in a frat house. We want some privacy. It's wild we’re doing this today with it being Valentine’s day.
I nervously wait for the knock on my door. This’ll be the first time I’ve ever been farted on.
Finally, someone knocks. I wipe the sweat off my forehead before opening the door.
I find a guy, my age, on the other side. As shown in his pic, he’s muscular. He’s wearing a backwards black cap, a white sleeveless muscle-shirt, and a pair of green basketball shorts. The guy’s also incredibly handsome.
Wait, I know him. He’s on the tennis team. I see him practicing when I walk by the tennis court to get to my class. I can't help but watch him as I walk past. He has an insanely big bubble butt. Watching his fat cakes bouncing around in his shorts as he runs around the court is the hottest thing I've ever seen.
He drinks me in as well. A sly grin forms on his lips. “Damn, I’m looking forward to farting on you.” He bluntly states, making me hot.
“P-please, come in.” I let him inside and close the door. My eyes widen as he walks past me, watching his mountainous globes wobble with his every step.
As if he senses it, his head whirls around, catching me leering at his ass. Cheekily grinning, he puts his hands on his knees and twerks for me, making his big buns clap against each other.
I look down, trying to hide my embarrassment. I hear him laugh, softly.
“Haha, come on, don’t hide that pretty face from me. I wanna look at what I’ll be farting on soon.” He teases. But he isn’t done yet.
BBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRVVVVVVVVVVVPPPPPPPPPPPPP
An 8 second explosion booms throughout my apartment. I look up, eyes wide, finding Skunk Romeo standing there with his leg raised. He's shooting me a sexy and mischievous little smirk.
The stench of rotten eggs and cabbage reaches my nose. The atrocious smell is turning me on.
“Ah, there you are, dollface. I’m Scott but please call me Skunk. Everyone who knows me does. I’m not sure why.” He jokingly says as he waves his hand behind his ass.
“I-I’m Jack. I don’t h-have a nickname.” I stutter out, completely flustered.
Scott's grin widens, “How about fart-face” If he doesn’t stop I’m gonna shoot a load in my boxers.
“Would you like a soda? I’m k-kinda thirsty.” I say, hoping to cool myself down. I lead us to the kitchen area, getting two cans of soda out of the fridge.
I place them on the miniature kitchen counter. I come to a complete halt when I feel something big, warm, and rotund pressing against my lower back. “Heh, oh I know what you’re thirsting for.”
I look back, seeing Scott has spun around, and is pressing his bubble butt against me. He's looking back at me, over his shoulder, with a lopsided smirk.
My mouth goes dry. Is this it? Am I about to be farted on for the first time?
“So, were you being truthful in our messages? You’ve never been farted on?”
I can't speak. All I can do is nod.
His smirk turns into a wolfish grin. “Well you're trapped with the right guy. I think it's funny as hell to rip ass on my bros and hot as hell to rip ass on cute guys. Guess which camp you’re in. Here, I’ll give you a big clue… UGH”
Scott rips a long, sputtering fart, on my back, that has my entire body shaking to it's core. Even with the layers of clothes in the way, I feel the hot air streaming out of his hole and warming my lower back.
My small kitchen area quickly fills with the stink of rotten fish and garlic.
“Ah, there you go, dollface. Always be prepared. With me being the Skunk, I'm always ready to spray ya.” Skunk teases as he wipes his ass from left to right on my lower back, rubbing his butt stink in.
“So, how was the first time being farted on?”
“F-fucking hot.” I state truthfully. I’m hard as steel.
Skunk laughs, “Hehe, that’s just a beginner's technique for farting on someone. Let's try something more advanced.”
Our sodas forgotten, Skunk takes me by the hand and leads us to my second hand love-couch.
He makes me sit on the couch and then spins around, aiming his fat bulbous backside right at my face. Skunk takes two steps back, standing on the couch, above me with his feet planted on either side of my legs. He then squats down, planting his bubbly ass on my crotch. I’m sure his pillowy cheeks can feel my hard-on from the way he’s snickering to himself.
"Alright dollface, wanna experience a technique I call 'up, up, and away'?” Skunk asks with a cheeky grin as he looks back at me.
“Please” I practically beg.
Skunk rewards my good manners with a fart on my crotch that makes me moan.
He then slides his big ass upward until it's pressed against my stomach.
“Up… GGH” BBBBBBBBWWWWWWWHHHHHTTTTTTT
He slides his big ass further up until it’s pressed against my chest,
“Up… HGH” MMMMMMMMRRRRRRRDDDDDDPPPPPPP
He then lifts off of me and rises up until his voluptuous ass is aligned with my face. Before I can react, he thrusts his ass back, smothering my face with his blubbery mounds.
A 30 second hurricane of ass gas explodes out of his bum and pointblank into my face. The sulfuric stench singes my nose hairs and has my eyes burning.
When his monstrous fart finally comes to an end, Skunk starts rocking his ass on my face, grinding his fumes into my pores. I don’t mind it, in fact I'm loving all of this.
Skunk finally pulls his ass a few inches away from my face. He peers back at me, inquisitively. “Was that too much or do you want more?” He asks.
It takes a few seconds for my coughing to subside.
“If you have more then please keep going.” I plead.
He shoots me a toothy grin. “Dollface, you’re dealing with the Skunk. My fart tank is never empty. I’m about to spray… FGH”
RRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFHHHHHHHHHHHHPPPPPPPPPPPP
Skunk rips a 9 second, eggy, trumpeting fart right in my face. It’s so powerful that it blows back my hair and has the seat of his mesh shorts billowing.
His butt vapors put me in another coughing fit but it is quickly muffled as he throws his ass back, recovering my face with his pillowy ass-slabs.
Skunk proceeds to fart like mad up my nose as he talks.
“It’s a travesty that you had to wait so long to be farted on, dollface” FART “Let me tell you, it’d be a different story if you went to highschool with me” FART “Especially with me being in denial of my own sexuality back then” FART “I’d be farting on you whenever I could to prove to myself that I wasn’t attracted to you” FART “When in truth, I'd be desperate to pound your hot ass” FART “Hate to admit it but I was pretty much a bully back then” FART “Whenever I passed you in the hall I’d make sure to fart on you” FART “I’d make sure to walk by you during lunch, and when you’d open your mouth to take a bite, I’d rip a fart in your mouth” FART “And I’d make sure to lock you in a supply closet or locker for a few minutes, but not before farting in it” FART “And that, dollface is called hot-boxing” FART “Don’t worry, I’ll do it to you sometime” FART “But back on track” FART “Wouldn’t you have enjoyed that during highschool?” FART “Being the Skunk’s favorite target… GHH”
DDDDDDDDDDBBBBBBBBBBBBVVVVVVVVVVPPPPPPPPP
Skunk’s farts and words are too much, I convulse as I unload in my boxers.
Skunk gets off of my face and sits down next to me, letting me catch my breath. Once I gain my bearings, I notice him looking at the wet spot on my jeans with a cocky smirk.
“Damn, this is embarrassing.” I mutter.
Skunk laughs, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
I nod, not really buying it. “Can you wait here for a minute? I'm gonna change in the bathroom real fast.” I explain before getting up and getting some pants and boxers out of my nearby dresser.
I step into the bathroom. A hand stops the door as I try to close it. Skunk stands in the doorway with a sly grin. “Now’s as good a time as any.” He says, confusing me.
Skunk turns around and extends his ass out, into the bathroom.
With a straining voice he says, “Why waste a perfect opportunity - NGH… I’m gonna fartbox ya… GGH”
BBBBBBBBBBDDDDDDDDDDDDHHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFFFF
Skunk blasts me with a chainsaw-sounding fart. He gives me a wink before slamming the door shut.
My small bathroom quickly fills with the stench of rotten eggs and rancid meat. I’m hardening again which is uncomfortable with my soiled boxers.
I take off my boxers and pants, and quickly clean myself with a loofah and soap before putting on a new pair of boxers and jeans.
I open the bathroom door to find Skunk standing by my open dresser, holding the collar of one of my shirts against the seat of his shorts. He doesn't look bothered about being caught. In fact he gives me a cheeky grin before scrunching up his face in concentration.
FFFFFFFFWWWWWWW-PPPPPPMMMMMM
“Ah, I thought I'd have more time. I was planning to fart on all of your clothes so you'd get whiffs of my butt stink during the coming weeks, getting turned on in public.” He shrugs before continuing. “Oh well, not like you can stop the Skunk. I gotta spray.” He proceeds to pull out several more of my clothes and farts on them. I’m fully hard, watching Skunk fart on my stuff.
“By the way, I call this technique: 'territory marking'. The Skunk’s very possessive.” He states just before farting on my favorite shirt.
Our fun is ended by some aggressive knocking on my door.
I open it, finding that it's my nextdoor neighbor. He’s a football jock from our college. He’s much bigger than me and slightly bigger than Skunk. At the moment he can’t see Skunk who’s deeper in my place.
He looks angry. “Dude, I have a girl over and your loud tv is interrupting us.” He says, making my brow furrow in confusion.
He makes an annoyed sound and adds, “You’re watching some sort of action movie and we can hear all the explosions through the thin walls.”
My eyes widen, realizing he’s referring to Skunk’s butt bombs.
Skunk comes up from behind, grabs me by the back of the neck, and pulls me behind him so he can step in front of the jock.
The jock goes pale.
“Shit, uh, hey Skunk.”
Skunk grins. “Hey DJ. About those explosions, they're coming from me, not his tv. And you shouldn’t be complaining, you know I can rip ass much louder than that. Here let me show you.” Skunk turns around and arches his back, pointing his bubble butt at DJ who’s only a few feet away.
DJ looks panicked, “Please, no Skunk! Last time you farted on me I smelled like your ass for an entire week. Please, I got my girl over.” He pleads.
Skunk ignores his words. Instead, he quickly pulls down the back of his shorts, mooning DJ, before widening his stance and leaning forward, causing his cheeks to spread open.
Damn, I wish I was on the receiving-end to see Skunk's hole.
A 25 second juggernaut-of-a-fart roars out of Skunk’s ass and washes over DJ. DJ’s hair wildly whips around thanks to Skunk’s nasty and powerful butt wind. I’m pretty sure the whole building can hear and feel this monster. DJ looks like he’s gonna be sick. The sight of Skunk defeating a guy bigger than either of us is pretty hot.
Skunk pulls his shorts back up and slams the door in DJ’s sickened face. We hear him coughing and dry-heaving as he stumbles back to his apartment.
“I call that technique: 'tagging'. When I brew a nasty one and spray someone, bare-ass, it lingers on them for days. You’ll find that out soon enough.” Skunk teases with a shit-eating grin.
I’m about to say something but am stopped by Skunk as he pulls me into his arms, and then rests his back against my front door. “Shh, listen.” He orders.
I hear my neighboring door open and a girl say, “Ew, you smell gross Darrell. I’m leaving.” That's followed by the rapid sound of clicking heels.
We hear DJ pursue her. “Please baby, just give me 30 minutes to take a long shower and I promise the smell will be bearable.” he begs.
Still grinning, Skunk shakes his head and mouths ‘No it won’t’.
“Ugh, stay away! You smell so bad Darrell!” She returns as we hear her stomp off with DJ following.
When we hear DJ passing by, Skunk farts loudly on the door, making it rumble.
DJ cries in fear from the sound but then we hear him resume chasing his girlfriend.
“Damn, you’re amazing.” I compliment Skunk, pleasing him.
“You ain’t even seen half of my farting playbook.” he brags.
Skunk’s mischievous grin tells me he’s got something planned.
“Skunky carry.” He calls before bending down, pressing his shoulder against my midsection, and then straightening up, carrying me over his shoulder. My upside-down face is inches from his shorts-clad, fat booty.
Skunk makes his way to the couch, pooting in my face with every step. PPFF, RRMM, VVBB, DDRR.
When we reach the couch, he pushes his ass out, covering my face with his meaty globes.
BBBBBBWWWWWWW-FFFFFFTTTTTTT
He rips a 5 second eggy fart in my face that makes me gag. Skunk lays me out on the couch before laying himself on top of me so we’re face-to-face.
For the first time, he looks serious.
“Look, I know we just met, but I’m not crazy right? You feel the connection we have too?”
I nod, “I do. It feels like we just click.” My response has him boyishly grinning.
“Hell yeah! So instead of this being a simple hook-up, be my Valentine, let’s go on a date.”
I smile. “That sounds nice but with it being Valentine’s day I doubt any restaurant won't be packed.”
Skunk shrugs with a sly grin as he gets up. “We don’t need to go to a restaurant. Let’s have a picnic at the nearby park. We have everything we need in your fridge.”
Next thing I know, while I’m still lying on the couch, Skunk squats his big ass over my face. “Here dollface, have a taste of what you’ll be having for dessert.”
PPPPPPPMMMMMMMMBBBBBBBRRRRRRRR
Skunk sprays my face with 5 seconds of his skunky wind. He snickers at my coughing.
“So what’s with you calling me dollface?” I ask as we walk to my fridge.
“Well one, you're cute. But also, when I call you dollface, what I actually mean is fart-face. I just don’t wanna accidentally call you that in public. So, whenever I call you dollface, you know what I really mean.” He explains and then gives me a wink. How can someone be gross and sexy at the same time?
We take out lunch meat and bread, and start making sandwiches side-by-side at my small counter.
As we work, Skunk hip-checks me, gaining my attention. I brace myself, noticing him shooting me a cheeky grin.
“Hey dollface, I call this ‘Skunky seasoning’. I love doing this to my frat-bros all the time. They never learn not to leave their food unattended when I’m around.”
Skunk picks up one of the sandwiches and brings it down, in front of his butt. He closes one eye and takes a deep breath.
BBBBBRRRR-TTTTTTTPPPPPPPP
He rips two short, trumpeting farts on the sandwich. Then slides it into a ziploc bag.
“Ah, there you go dollface, I booty toasted your sandwich. You’re welcome.” He teases, and then snickers at my visible hard-on.
We pack drinks, chips, and the sandwiches into an old dufflebag of mine, and leave. Once we’re out of the building, Skunk walks ahead of me. He looks back at me with an impish grin and says, “Crop-dust.”
Skunk releases a long, raunchy fart as he continues to walk ahead of me. Thanks to his fat cakes bouncing against each other, his fart sounds choppy. My eyes sting as I’m forced to walk through his hellish fart cloud; it's so hot.
It takes us only a few minutes to reach the park. All the while he crop-dusts me and farts against my hip several times.
The sun’s out but it’s kinda cold so not too many people are at the park. We find a nice secluded place beneath a tree. I lay out a beach towel that we can sit on. As soon as we’re sitting down, Skunk leans away from me, lifting his left cheek up, and aiming his crack my way.
“Hope you got a strong stomach, dollface, because all through this romantic picnic I’m gonna be spraying ya with sbds. Ngh… Ah, smell my Valentine's.”
Skunk says and then starts wafting his butt vapors towards my face. The sickening stench of rotten fish and onions poisons my lungs and instantly has me gagging. He wears a cocky grin, knowing that he’s turning me on.
True to his word, he keeps launching sbds my way, but we still can talk and eat, like a real date. As we’re nearly finishing, two guys walk up to us.
Skunk’s grin tells me they’re his friends. They’re probably from his frat. They’re both ripped like Skunk.
When they reach us, they kneel down to be on level with us. The shorter one says, “What’s this Skunk? Don’t tell me you got a date. Who the hell would wanna be with your gassy ass?" He ribs.
The taller one raises an eyebrow at me, “You know he's nicknamed Skunk right? This guy farts a lot and they're brutal. No joke, he’s cleared out buildings and auditoriums.” He warns.
I shrug, “I know he’s gassy. I don’t mind.”
The shorter one chuckles, “Heh, well it's your funeral.”
Skunk finally chimes in, “Wrong, it's your funeral. Especially with the terrible position you put yourselves in."
Before they can react, Skunk grabs the both of them by the top of their heads and pulls them down and forward. Skunk spreads his legs wide and they fall face-first near his crotch. Skunk quickly wraps his muscular thighs around both of their heads. He’s headscissoring two dudes at once.
Skunk shoots me a sinister grin, “This is called the ‘Skunk lock’. Trust me, you don’t wanna find yourself in their position.”
Skunk grits his teeth and starts grunting and straining.
"HGH… Hang on gentlemen, the floodgates are opening… UGH”
BBBBBBBBWWWWWWWMMMMMMPPPPPPP
RRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDD
FFFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM
DDDDDDDDDDBBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWTTTTTTTT
A series of massive farts thunders out of Skunk’s ass and right into his two victims' side-by-side, trapped faces.
The two are struggling wildly to escape but are getting nowhere, while Skunk’s cackling like a super-villain. Luckily no one’s nearby to see or hear this. I’m sure if they were they’d be calling the police.
In an effort to escape, the two rise onto their knees, lifting the lower half of Skunk’s body along with them, making him laugh.
“Haha, sorry bros no escape for you. This Skunk's gonna spray the fight out of ya… GGH”
MMMMMMMMFFFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRR
DDDDDDDDBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLVVVVVVVVVVV
PPPPPPPPPUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBB
After another barrage of monstrous farts, they fall back to the ground with their faces still in Skunk’s crotch.
“Nice try fellas but still no use. Better luck next time… NGGH”
I stare slack-jawed as a 40 second, noxious hurricane, roars out of Skunk’s ass and pointblank into the two’s faces. Their struggling becomes weaker and weaker all throughout his fart. Their bodies go completely limp as Skunk's butt-bomb comes to a sputtering end.
Skunk sighs in relief as he unclamps his legs, revealing his bros’ unconscious faces.
Skunk grins at me. “What I said earlier was a lie, dollface. It may not be today, but one day I’ll trap you in the Skunk lock when you least expect it.” He teases.
With almost preternatural speed he hops into a crouched position with his bubbly rump pointed in my face.
RRRRRRFFFFFFFFFWWWWWWWDDDDDDD
I get a noseful of his eggy fumes causing me to shiver.
We pack our stuff back into my duffle-bag, since we’re finished. All that’s left is Skunk’s two buds, unconscious on the grass.
"What should we do about them?" I ask. Skunk’s already on it, flipping them both onto their backs.
“No worries dollface, I know how to wake these two up. I've tons of experience knocking guys out with my farts. And soon you’ll be another notch on my belt.” He taunts, wearing a lopsided grin and shooting me a wink.
Skunk squats down, lowering his bubble butt inches above the taller guy's face.
“‘Skunking salt’ can wake anyone up.” He says before pressing down on his stomach and narrowing his eyes.
PPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRHHHHHHHMMMMMMM
He rips a 4 second fart into the guy’s face. The guy groans and starts to stir.
Skunk repeats the same process over the shorter guy’s face.
BBBBBBBWWWWWWWLLLLLLPPPPPPPP
Once he’s done he takes my hand. “Come on, let's get outta here.” He leads us off. Just before we disappear around the corner, I see his two victims getting to their feet. Good, I didn’t want to leave those two alone while they’re unconscious.
We make it back to my apartment and I’m nervous. I’m hoping this impromptu Valentine's date isn’t over yet.
I open my door. “You wanna come in?” I ask hopefully.
With a sly grin, Skunk complies. He turns sideways to slide past me. When his ass is pressed against my hip he pauses and…
FFFFFFWWWWWWW-RRRRRRRRPPPPPPP
He rips two consecutive, squeaky farts on me. I have to stifle a moan as his noxious vapors surround me.
“Ah, sorry about that, but what do you expect when you’re on a date with the Skunk? You better realize that I’ll be spraying you a lot if you agree to go on another date with me.”
“There's no if’s, I definitely want a second date.” I state, making him grin.
“My booty's happy to hear that.” He teases.
Skunk leads us to my bed. “Lie face up, on the bed.” He orders, and I quickly do. Skunk steps onto my bed and walks up it. When he reaches my shoulders, he spins around, facing away from me, with his feet planted on either side of my shoulders.
I longingly stare up at his huge, protruding, mountainous globes, lording high above me. The back seam of his shorts is dug into his crack, further accentuating the size of his blubbery mounds.
Skunk suddenly drops his ass down towards my face, making me gasp. He stops his rapid descent when his ass is only a foot above my face. I hear him snickering, causing his meaty slabs to jiggle.
“Dick.” I call him, making him laugh harder.
“Haha, sorry dollface, I’m just fuckin’ with ya. Here, let me make it up to ya with a faceful of Skunk cakes.”
Skunk eases his bum down. His ass fat spills over my entire face, smothering and dominating me.
“Big whiffs dollface, smell my apology… HGGH”
BBBBBBBBBBWWWWWWWWWDDDDDDDDDFFFFFFFFF
Skunk blasts me with a loud, rumbling, 8 second fart that has my face and his bulbous cheeks shaking. The stench of rotten eggs and spice has nowhere to go but up my nose and into my lungs. It has me coughing and gagging, muffled beneath his fat ass.
Skunk works his ass up and down, and from left to right, rubbing his stink in.
Skunk rises a foot off of my face. I blink a few times, readjusting to the light. I watch Skunk grab the waistband of his shorts, from the back, and pull them down. His furry, meaty, bronze moons spill out of his shorts and wobble above my face.
Using his hands, Skunk reaches down and spreads his cheeks, letting me see his sweaty, winking pucker surrounded by black hair.
“Deep breath, dollface. This technique, I call: ‘spelunking in the Skunk cavern.’”
With that, Skunk brings his ass back down, my face easily being swallowed in between his gargantuan cheeks. His doughy mounds pour over the side of my face, making contact with the bed, sealing my entire head within his enormous ass. All I can breathe in is his hot, sweaty musk, and my nose is being kissed by his winking pucker.
FFFFFFFDDDDDDDDDDDDRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP
"Ah, I really needed that, haha. But it's Valentine's day, we need to make our first kiss something special. Lips on hole, dollface."
Skunk starts wiping his grimy corn-hole all over my face. He only stops when his pucker is on top of my lips.
"Feel privileged, dollface. You're the first person I'm trying this technique out on. I call it: 'Skunkily-ever-after'."
I hear Skunk's guts gurgling above me.
"Uh-oh, you hear that, dollface? This kiss is definitely gonna knock you out. But I got good news: when you wake up, I'll send you back to dreamland with a classic dutch-oven. I know, I know, the Skunk loves to spoil his Valentine.
RGH... And speaking of spoiled, smell this... UGH"
Sounds of greetings came muffled through the closed door. They were there for a minute or two, taking off shoes and jackets, the odd sound of cans and bottles clinking. The sound grew a little louder and then there was a tap on the door of the Fart Room; the cupboard under the stairs where you were knelt chained to the wall.
A round of laughter from guests who arrived that trailed off as they went through to start the party. You heard music playing in another room but otherwise you were left to your silent solitude. Your thoughts of utter humiliation, of shame and embarrassment. With each passing moment the dread built inside of you, knowing at any minute someone might come in and put you to work as the party's fart filter. But for a while nothing happened, your silence only interrupted by the odd knock at the front door or ring of the doorbell. The sound of the arrivals greeting the host, and the repeated tap at your door followed by cheers, laughs or applause. You imagined each time the host was informing the guests of your attendance. That their farts would be taken care of tonight.
Your phone had been taken from you so you weren't sure how much time had passed. But you thought it may have been at most half an hour. The newcomers seemed to have stopped, everyone coming was here and the party was in full swing out there. Over the music now was the general loud murmur of conversations. Each time a voice would get louder you froze, expecting the door to open, but then the voice would trail off as they went to another room.
At one point you heard someone walking up the stairs, and you had a moment of realisation. What if one of them went to the toilet, took a shit, and then later came to visit you! The host had pulled his pants down to give you his farts without a barrier, was that what they'd all do?! You started counting the seconds between people going upstairs and back down. So far everyone seemed quick, just a piss you hoped. The last guy went up the stairs and about half way up started jumping up and down on them, right above your head giving you an awful fright that caused you to hit your head on the low ceiling. He carried on, laughing as he went.
Eventually though, your luck ran out. The door opened and a man walked in. He was huge. He reminded you of those who'd compete on World's Strongest Man. You knew he'd be incredibly strong but the body gave a more chubby aesthetic. He struggled to manoeuvre in the room.
"Evening". He said but didn't wait for a response as he pivoted on the spot. His large ass coming round to your face.
BBRRPPPBBB
BBBRRRRPPPP
PPPPBBBBPPP
The farts came out thick and fast. They still made you jump each time, causing you another bump to the head since you'd been leaning so far back to avoid having to get close to the man. He looked like a slob in his joggers and faded vest. You assumed he struggled to find clothes to fit his frame.
"Oi!" he barked.
Bringing you back to attention. Before you could even respond or react he backed up. Your head crushed against the ceiling, the sides of your face engulfed by his large cheeks. The light was blocked out.
He held you there. Your nose pressed up against his hole. You could barely breathe. Each inhalation filled your lungs with his gas. The smell of day long sweat absorbed in to the joggers mixed in with the rank shitty smell of his farts.
"There we go". He cooed above. Slowly rocking his ass side to side, taking your face with it.
"Breathe it in and I'll report back you're doing a good job. Apparently I'm the first guest of the night to use you. Not surprising as I usually can't go long without letting rip"
Bbbbrrrrrpppppp
"Oh, right on cue"
Again he rolled his ass across your face. "Breathe it in".
After each subsequent fart he let the silence of the room hang, only disturbed by the desperate breathing attempts you made from beneath his ass. The weight was crushing you nose and your skull, you fought back the desperate need to push him off you. Fearing what would happen if you tried. Instead you let his rolling ass take your head without resistance, it helped spread the pressure and on each end the of the arc you got a bit more room to inhale the noxious air.
"Good job, see you later". With that he stepped away. The light blinding you. Out through the door he went, leaving you alone again. The room had the remnants of his farts. A sulphurous smell. Having been struggling to breathe for so long you took in deep lungfuls. The smell soon vanished, the next person would be grateful of that.
From outside there was a moment and then a crowd of cheers. He must have been telling the room you had done a good job, you were performing in your role as the party fart filter.
(Had to sadly lose the original reblog with the GIF as it was being flagged by Tumblr)
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This was ridiculous, you'd been waiting 15mins for your order now. You went through the drive through to make it quicker. Only to be told to pull in to the waiting area and they'd bring it over.
You get out your car and head inside, this wasn't on. They might not have important jobs, but you certainly did and you were going to be late because of them. You explained this to the girl behind the counter. She of course was useless, trying to fob you off with apologies and assuring you it would be out soon. Psh, you'd heard that before. Only when she confirmed the order would be bought out by the manager did you finally drop the matter and return to the car. Ready to prepare your speech for the manager when he came out, you'd give him a piece of your mind then drive off without another word. That would certainly put him in his place.
A couple minutes went by and you saw out the door open. Out walked a young, muscular guy with a cocky grin. Appropriate since you could see his fat cock showing through the tight trousers as he got closer, not that he needed to be close to see it as it was that girthy.
He got to your car but rather than come to the open window that you stared out of, silenced by his dominating swagger, he walked around to the passenger side door, opened it, and sat down. His large frame filled his side of the car and then some of yours. You leant back, too intimated to go into your planned speech.
Without word he opened the bag and started to take handfuls of fries, eating them in front of you. Every now and then giving you a smirk.
"Close the window" he finally said, his mouth full of a bite of your burger. You did so. "I don't like the way you spoke to my employee back there". He takes a sip of your drink.
Buurrrppp
"I thought I'd come out personally and tell you I think you're a piece of shit" Another bite of burger.
Ppprrrppp
"I don't think you deserve our service". Handful of fries.
Bbbbbrrrrpppp
"If you're going to act like a piece of shit, you should therefore smell like one so people know to avoid you"
BBBBRRRRPPPBBB
He finishes the burger and with his hand covered in sauce reaches across and grabs the back of your head. With little effort he pulls you down across the car, your nose passing through the fart cloud, your face coming to rest pressed into his lap, the thick cock flexing against your cheek. A unspoken show of superiority.
Pprrrbbb
PBBTTT
BBRRrrrBbb
Unable to hold your breath or escape you froze held in place by his hand, as you inhaled fart after fart. The only break being a fleeting moment when he would take another swig of drink and belch loudly.
Finally you heard the sound of the last bit of coke being slurped through the straw. The fries finished. The bag crinkled above you.
PPPPPPRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBB
The fart echoed on. He held your head tight. It was the worst one so far. The smell of a man who eats constantly greasy fast food.
He opened the door and fresh air rushed in. He still held your head as he stepped out the car. Then your face was pushed down in to the passenger seat where his ass had just been assaulting it. You could feel how warm it was. Smell each and every fart that had been absorbed in to the fibres.
"I do hope you enjoyed your visit to Arby's today", and he walked away, leaving the door open for all to see you.
It had started out like any other quiet night at home. Ben Larsen and his husband, Tyler Grant, were celebrating their anniversary—seven years together. The evening had been simple, cozy: takeout containers littered the coffee table, and soft music played in the background. The small apartment they shared was warm and lived-in, with framed photos of vacations, friends, and family smiling down from the walls.
“C’mon, Ty. Let’s grab a pic for Insta,” Ben said, leaning over and slinging an arm around his husband. His brown hair was still damp from a shower, his clean-shaven face pressed close to Tyler’s cheek.
Tyler chuckled, brushing his blonde bangs out of his eyes. “Alright, alright. Just one, though. No filters, promise.”
They propped the phone up against a beer bottle, leaned in, and snapped the photo—a simple shot of two lean, boyish men in their late twenties, smiling wide with love.
Ben tapped at his screen, typing up a sweet caption: Lucky to have this man by my side for seven years. Here’s to many more. ❤️ He hit post.
But something went wrong.
The app refreshed, and both men froze.
“Uh, Ben… what the fuck is that?” Tyler’s voice was tight, confused.
Ben blinked at the screen. The photo was not the one they’d just taken. No, this was two massive, thickly-built men, shirtless, both with heavy tattoos curling across their chests and shoulders. One had a broad, hairy chest and a thick black beard that covered half his face, framed by a black cowboy hat. The other was bald under a straw hat, his reddish-brown beard full and wild, a glint in his eye as he leaned close to his buddy.
But it was the caption that made Ben’s blood run cold: WRECKED that hungry hole tonight—hot collab with my boy BUCK KELLER. Three loads and the fucker was still beggin’. 🔥💦🐻 Full vid up now—link in bio, don’t miss this bear meat show. It was on the profile of the black-bearded man—the account was named BEARBRUTE69.
And beneath that caption, a preview video had auto-played.
“Oh my god,” Tyler whispered.
There they were—those two men—grinding, rutting, gasping. The black-bearded brute pounding into his partner, sweaty bodies slapping, their guttural moans filling the room. Tyler’s face went pale, but before either could react, it began.
Ben felt it first. His skin itched and burned as dark hair began sprouting along his chest, then thicker, denser, as if years of testosterone flooded his veins all at once. His smooth face tingled, and red-brown stubble exploded into a full, wild beard, wiry and coarse, spreading up his cheeks and down his throat. His jaw widened, nose broadening, eyes deepening under heavy brows. His lean arms swelled with muscle and fat, thick veins rising along his biceps. His soft belly firmed up just enough to form a solid gut, framed by heavy pecs dusted with hair and tattoos curling across his shoulders—tribal patterns, skulls, barbed wire. His age advanced—he looked mid-40s now, roughened by hard years, his voice a gruff baritone with a lazy southern drawl he hadn’t had before.
Tyler tried to speak, but his voice cracked, shifting lower as his throat thickened. His clean face bristled with black stubble that darkened and spread in seconds, forming a dense, square-cut beard that framed his jaw like a pelt. His brown hair darkened to black, receding just slightly under his black cowboy hat as if it had always been there. His frame widened, arms bulging with thick muscle padded by a layer of bulk. Chest hair erupted, curling dense and sweaty across massive pecs, the same sunburst tattoo from the video branding his shoulder. He aged too—pushing past 50, with lines at the corners of his eyes, a nose broken once or twice in bar fights. His voice rumbled deep, with a slow, cocky Texan accent. His name wasn’t Tyler anymore—it was Hank Slade. Owner of this house. The black-bearded bearpig who just wrecked his buddy’s ass on camera.
And Ben? He wasn’t Ben Larsen now. He was Buck Keller, forty-six, a traveling content creator who lived for collabs like this, for the raw, nasty sex his subscribers craved.
Their apartment morphed around them. Gone were the photos, the cozy couch, the bookshelves. The walls became wood-paneled, adorned with leather straps, cowboy hats, and a giant mounted bull skull. The air smelled of sweat, cum, leather polish. A camera sat on a tripod in the corner, a lube bottle next to it, and used towels strewn across a battered leather couch. A jockstrap lay discarded on the floor. Hank’s house. Always Hank’s house.
The men sat, sweaty and sated, reality fully rewritten.
Buck scratched his beard, smirking as he looked at the post on Hank’s phone. “Fuck, man, didn’t realize you was gonna post that clip so fast. You’re gettin’ your subs worked up already, huh?”
Hank chuckled, voice deep and slow. “Hell yeah. My boys been waitin’ for this collab. They love seein’ me split some hole, ‘specially when the fucker’s beggin’ for more. You took that bear cock like a fuckin’ champ, Keller.”
Buck laughed, taking a long swig from a beer he didn’t remember grabbing. “Damn right I did. Shit, Hank, you sure know how to break a man in. My hole’s gonna be singin’ for a week.”
Hank leaned back, pulling out a fresh cigar and lighting it, the smoke curling around his thick beard. “That vid’s gonna make a killin’. Might hafta get you back here next month. Thinkin’ we do somethin’ in the barn. Got a few toys out there my subs been wantin’ to see me put to work.”
Buck licked his lips, his thick fingers stroking along his beard. “Hell, man, you just say when. I’ll be here. Ain’t nothin’ I like more than helpin’ a buddy get his nut on cam. ‘Sides, you wreck me real good. Feels fuckin’ right.”
Hank grinned, eyes glinting under his hat. “Bet your subs are lovin’ it too. They like seein’ that hole get opened up proper, seein’ a real man get bred.”
Buck’s cock stirred again in his worn jeans, the massive bulge straining the zipper. “Shit, Hank, you’re gettin’ me hard again talkin’ like that.”
“Yeah?” Hank drawled, leaning in close, his cigar clenched between his teeth, his breath hot with whiskey and smoke. “Might hafta fire up that camera again. Give ‘em a lil’ bonus.”
Buck chuckled, voice low and raunchy. “Fuck yeah. Let’s give the boys what they want.”
And that was all they knew, all they’d ever been—two filthy bear pigs, living for the next collab, the next video, the next load. The sweet anniversary, the apartment, their old names—all gone, as if they’d never existed.
Carlos ambled into my office, a vision in corporate attire that somehow made him even more devastatingly attractive. His striped button-up was stretched taut across a chest that clearly hadn’t forgotten its military training, and his trousers… God, his trousers were waging a losing battle against the sheer, magnificent expanse of his glutes. We’re the same age, but his stint in the army after university meant he was junior to me here at the company. I was the one who’d pulled him in, hoping against hope that proximity would reignite the spark we’d briefly shared back in the day. Nothing serious, just a few drunk stolen kisses and some heavy petting, but it had been enough to permanently etch his image into my fantasies.
I’d known Carlos since our first year of university. We’d had a few classes together, and even back then, he had this quiet intensity that drew me in. While I was focused on internships and getting my foot in the door of the corporate world, he was talking about joining the army. It always seemed so far removed from my own life, but I admired his conviction. When he finally came back, a few years older, harder, and with a body that could stop traffic, I was already established in my career. We reconnected at a mutual friend’s barbecue, and I knew, instantly, that the old spark was still there, only now it was a raging inferno. I subtly offered to put in a good word for him at my company, a move I told myself was purely professional; I wanted that referral bonus after all, but deep down, it was a calculated risk. I wanted him close.
He leaned against my desk, facing away from me, a picture of nonchalant confidence, and I found myself utterly captivated. Looking down at his laptop, he was talking about…something, but I wasn’t mentally present. My eyes traced the taut fabric clinging to his thighs, the way his muscles flexed even when he was just casually shifting his weight. His ass, always a marvel, seemed to have expanded since we last properly… interacted. It was a perfect, sculpted orb of pure temptation. I was completely immersed, mesmerised by it.
Then, a soft, almost polite PPPPPPFFFFFTTT rippled through the air.
It was enough to jolt me out of my trance. I scrunched my nose, feigning annoyance as the odour wafted in my direction. But inside, a little tremor of excitement shot through me. "Carlos!" I exclaimed, trying to sound put out.
He just chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made my insides clench.
"What, not paying attention, boss?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. He knew, or at least suspected, the effect he had on me. He always had.
"I am paying attention," I countered, my voice a little too strained. "It's just… a little hard to focus when your ass is trying to escape your pants." I winced internally at the bluntness, but once the words were out, there was no taking them back.
His grin widened, and he actually flexed his glutes, a deliberate, slow movement that made the fabric groan. "Oh yeah?" he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You think it's gotten bigger?" Looking down at the fruit of his hard work in the gym.
My cheeks felt hot. "It's… impressive," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. The truth was, it was more than impressive. It was an utter masterpiece.
He laughed again, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down my spine.
“It is pretty big, isn’t it?” Then, with a playful wiggle and a deliberate squeeze of his magnificent ass, another sound escaped him. This one was richer, deeper, a resonant BBBBBRRRRTTT that vibrated subtly through the air.
I groaned, a genuine sound of helpless surrender. It wasn't just the sound; it was the way the scent, subtle yet undeniably musky, began to waft towards me.
"See?" he said, fanning the air dramatically with his hand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "That wasn't even a bad one. I can go to the bathroom if you want."
My throat felt dry, my voice caught somewhere between a stammer and a plea. "No, no, you're fine," I mumbled, trying to project an air of nonchalance I was far from feeling. "Just… surprised."
He chuckled, that rich, deep sound that always sent a shiver down my spine. "Surprised, huh? You've always been so easily flustered by me, haven't you?" His eyes, dark and knowing, held mine, pulling me back to those heady days right after university. He remembered. He remembered the way I reacted to him, the way he could always fluster me.
He pushed off my desk then, the slight movement making his trousers pull even tighter across his magnificent ass. I watched, mesmerised, as he walked around to the side of my desk, his movements fluid and powerful. He came to a stop right beside me, his hip brushing against my shoulder as he leaned down, ostensibly to look at something on my computer screen.
His scent, a mix of clean laundry, a faint hint of his cologne, and now, the subtle, musky undertone of his farts, enveloped me. It was intoxicating, a dangerous cocktail that made my head spin. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet hum of the office. He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the sheer bulk of his body a powerful presence beside me.
"So," he murmured, his voice low, "what were you actually working on? Or were you just admiring the view?" He straightened up then, turning to face me fully, a smirk playing on his lips. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, drawing attention to the way his button-up stretched taut across his pecs. The fabric of his trousers pulled even tighter across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. "I was… preparing for the quarterly review," I stammered, gesturing vaguely at my monitor. It felt like a pathetic lie even as I said it. How could I focus on quarterly reviews when every fibre of my being was screaming about the man standing beside me, the subtle, lingering aroma of his flatulence filling my senses?
He just laughed, a low, knowing sound. "Right. The quarterly review. And I suppose that's why your face is the colour of a ripe tomato?" His eyes dropped to my lips for a fleeting second, and I felt a jolt go through me.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken desires and the lingering scent of him. I wanted him to stay, to keep farting. I wanted to smell it. Feel it. But I was trapped, held captive by my own embarrassment and the professional facade I desperately tried to maintain. He was teasing me, playing with me, and I was utterly at his mercy. And in a twisted way, I loved it. I loved the way he made me feel, the illicit thrill of this secret obsession.
——————————-
The hum of the projector was a dull thrum against the excited buzz of the shareholders. Carlos stood at the front of the room, effortlessly commanding attention. He was in that perfectly tailored suit, a beautiful grey that only accentuated the raw power of his physique. But it was the back of his trousers that held me utterly captive. They hugged his enormous glutes like a second skin, each ripple of muscle visible, flexing subtly with every shift of his weight. It was a struggle to keep my eyes on the financial projections on the screen. My gaze, and I noticed, a few other pairs of eyes in the room, kept drifting to that magnificent, tightly encased ass.
He was a natural up there, confident and articulate, a far cry from the slightly awkward kid I'd known in university. He answered questions with ease, his military training clearly having sharpened his focus and delivery. He did well, exceptionally well, and I felt a surge of pride, mixed with that familiar, unwelcome ache of desire.
After the meeting, the room gradually emptied. I waited for Carlos, watching him exchange pleasantries with a few of the lingering shareholders. When he finally made his way over to me, a broad, triumphant smile on his face, I felt my own lips curve in response.
"Carlos, that was brilliant," I said, extending my hand for a congratulatory shake. His grip was firm, warm. "Seriously, you nailed it."
"Thanks," he beamed, his eyes sparkling. "Glad it's over, though. Public speaking still gets the nerves going, even after all that army stuff." He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping slightly.
"Actually, I'm just glad I got those farts out in the bathroom beforehand." He chuckled, a deep, easy sound. "Totally blew up that bathroom. God, it'll probably stink for hours in there." He shook his head, still grinning. "But damn, imagine letting rip during that. I'd be embarrassed forever."
My heart gave a lurch. My mind, unbidden, conjured an immediate, vivid image: Carlos, in the pristine executive bathroom, hunched over the toilet. His face scrunched in effort, a low moan escaping his lips as the sound of powerful, rumbling farts – a series of deep BBBBBFFFRRRRMMMMPPPPPP followed by a sharp PHHHHHWAAATTTTT – reverberated off the tiled walls.
The air was thick and pungent, hanging heavy around him.
A sheepish, almost breathless laugh escaped me. "Haha… yeah…" was all I could manage. My dick gave an undeniable twitch. He had no idea the landscape of my inner world, the private, intoxicating fantasy he'd just unwittingly painted for me. The idea of him, alone in that bathroom, letting go, uninhibited and powerful, was almost too much to bear. The scent, the sound, the sheer primal force of it… I wanted to be there. I wanted to witness it. I wanted to smell it.
He pushed a hand through his hair, still oblivious to the silent battle raging within me. "Anyway," he said, pulling me back to the present, "fancy grabbing a drink to celebrate?"
My mind raced, the image of him in the bathroom lingering, the scent now an imagined reality. "Yeah," I managed, my voice a little husky. "Yeah, I'd like that." Maybe, just maybe, I could devise a situation where he'd be less discreet.
Due to his great performance, the company decided to put Carlos with me on the business trip to Spain. The airport lounge buzzed with the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses. Carlos and I were settled into a couple of plush chairs, side by side. I was nursing a soft drink, trying to stay hydrated, while he was absolutely demolishing a plate of what looked like a full English breakfast.
"You know they serve food on the plane, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He just shrugged, already halfway through a sausage. "Gotta fuel the muscles, always," he mumbled around a mouthful, unapologetically. That was Carlos – always practical, always hungry.
A few minutes later, our gate was called. We both started to stand, but Carlos suddenly plopped back down, a mischievous glint in his eye. A soft, warm MMMMMPPPPPHHHHFFFT emanated from the cushion beneath him, muffled but undeniably present. It was deep, resonating, and God, it was hot. He giggled, a boyish sound that sent a familiar tremor through me. "Some poor soul's going to wonder why their seat's so warm and smells faintly of victory," he whispered, clearly amused by his own prank.
I chuckled, trying to mask the surge of heat that spread through my own body. He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, the movement pulling his shirt taut across his impressive torso.
"Gosh, I'm so gonna be farting on that plane," he announced, as if it were a casual weather report.
"Don't you wanna do that before we board?!" I asked, feigning concern.
He waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, don't worry. The plane engines are so loud, they won't hear it. Plus, doesn't the air get changed or something?" He grinned, then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "Besides, I'm next to you, so I'm sure you won't mind."
I let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Oh, really?" I replied, but inside, I was practically jumping with joy. The thought of being trapped in a metal tube for hours with him, knowing he was going to be letting loose… it was almost too good to be true.
True to his word, once we were settled in our seats on the plane and the roar of the engines filled the cabin, Carlos began his personal performance. Every now and then, I’d catch his eye. He’d scrunch his face ever so slightly, a tiny tremor would go through his body, and then I’d just know. Due to the overwhelming engine noise, I could barely discern the sound, but I could always tell it was a nice, big one, a satisfying release for him. He’d offer a small, smug smile in my direction, and I’d just roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, all the while trying to subtly adjust myself to hide the growing tent in my trousers. This trip was going to be an experience.
We disembarked into the warm Spanish air, the lingering scent of plane farts a distant memory, at least for me. Carlos, however, was already in his element. He hailed a taxi with a confident flick of his wrist, and then, to my utter delight, began rattling off directions in fluent, rapid-fire Spanish.
"¿Al Hotel Cervantes, por favor?" he asked the driver, his voice a smooth, deep rumble. ("To the Hotel Cervantes, please?")
The driver nodded, "Claro, suban." ("Of course, get in.")
His voice, already deep and resonant, took on a new, incredibly alluring quality as he conversed with the driver. Each rolled ‘r’ and crisp consonant sent a shiver down my spine. It was unexpectedly, ridiculously hot. He glanced back at me, a small smile playing on his lips, as if knowing the effect his linguistic prowess was having.
"¿Todo bien?" the driver asked. ("Everything okay?")
"Sí, perfecto. Gracias," Carlos replied, his smile widening. ("Yes, perfect. Thank you.")
The taxi pulled up to our hotel, a grand, old building with a stately facade. Company policy had us in separate rooms, but as luck would have it, we were next-door neighbours. Carlos, with his usual ease, rolled his suitcase into his room, flashing me a quick, "Buenas noches," before disappearing behind his door. I wished him a good night in return, trying to sound as nonchalant as he did, and then stepped into my own room.
It was a beautiful space, almost too big for one person. A king-sized bed dominated the centre, draped in crisp, white sheets, and a plush armchair sat invitingly in the corner. "It could totally fit a shorter, stockier, gassy man in here with me as well," I thought, the idea forming in my mind.
And then the fantasy began to unfold. I pictured us, coming back from a long, gruelling day of meetings, him in his tight suit pants, stretched to their absolute limit. He'd collapse onto the bed, utterly exhausted, and with a soft BBBBLAAAARRRRPPP or a deep PPPPHHHHWWWUMMMPP, he'd let out a substantial fart, the warm gas caressing the fresh sheets. Then, we’d cuddle. I’d spoon him, my front pressed against his incredibly firm ass, and he’d fart again, PPPPAAARRRRRRRPPPP the warm air hitting my lap, a low rumble against my stomach. The sheer intimacy of it, the raw, uninhibited release, sent a jolt of pure desire through me. The thought was so incredibly hot that I found myself jerking off alone in that luxurious, empty bed, the fantasy of Carlos and his glorious farts my sole focus. The intense rush of pleasure, combined with the exhaustion of the journey, quickly caught up to me, and I drifted off to sleep, his imagined scent still lingering in my mind.
I woke up the next day, the Spanish sun streaming through my window, and the haze of my solitary fantasy slowly dissipated. The day of meetings went smoothly. Carlos, once again, charmed everyone, flashing his fluent Spanish like a secret weapon. It was undeniably attractive, watching him effortlessly navigate conversations, his voice a rich baritone even when discussing quarterly projections.
The day was drawing to a close, and we decided on dinner at a local spot. Paella, rich with seafood and saffron, filled the air with its delicious aroma. We talked about the day, our lives, our work. It was surprisingly easy, just sitting and chatting with him like old friends. And wow, he looked good. The dim lighting of the restaurant softened the edges of his sharp features, making his eyes seem even darker, more inviting.
After dinner, we decided to take a walk through the plaza. Dusk was settling, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. As we ambled along, a loud catcall echoed from a group of men leaning against a fountain.
"¡Qué paquete!" one of them whistled, eyes clearly on Carlos's rear. ("What a package!")
Carlos, slightly tipsy from the local wine, just joyfully jeered back in Spanish, a wide grin on his face. "¡Gracias, guapo!" he called out, a playful retort. ("Thanks, handsome!")
"What was that about?" I asked, feigning ignorance, though a part of me already knew.
He chuckled, "Oh, he's just interested in my ass." He turned his head to look at me, that mischievous glint in his eye.
"I'm sure many men are." I say.
He paused, then added, "Yeah, well, not many can handle the full thing."
"It is pretty huge," I said, the alcohol giving me a sudden burst of courage. I reached out, my hand finding its way to that magnificent curve. I cupped a feel, marvelling at the firm, sculpted muscle beneath the fabric. "Damn, congrats, man," I added, giving it a light squeeze.
He looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and glee. My heart hammered. I stuttered, "We… we should probably call a cab back to the hotel. It's getting late."
Before I could pull out my phone, he walked a few steps ahead of me, his back to me. He shifted his weight, pushed his butt out just a little, and let out a resounding BBBRRRRAAPPPPHHHHTT, FFFMMMMMMMMPPPPTTT, FFFFRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT that seemed to vibrate through the dusky air. He jiggled his butt playfully. "See? This is what I meant by saying most men can't handle it," he said, turning back to me, a proud smirk on his face. "Had to let that one out before the cab, otherwise we'd be kicked out."
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "So," I ventured, trying to sound casual, "does the man you want to date… need to be able to handle your farts?"
He met my gaze, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "Well, it is a part of me, so yes. Not many can." He paused, then his eyes flickered down to my midsection, a knowing glint returning. "You seem to be able to, though."
A brief, charged silence descended between us. We drew closer, the distance between us shrinking with every breath. "Well," I began, my voice barely a whisper, "they don't smell that bad…"
His eyes lit up. With a mischievous grin, he cupped a hand by his crack, pushed his butt out slightly, and released another low, wet PPPPPFFFOOOOTTT. He then brought his hand up to my nose. I inhaled a deep, deliberate sniff, taking in the warm, musky scent that smelled like what we had just eaten. My tent, which had been valiantly trying to stay hidden, now poked undeniably against his leg. He felt it, looked down, then slowly, provocatively, looked up at my face. His smirk returned, wider now, laced with triumph.
"Maybe you should call that cab," he murmured, his voice laced with invitation.
The ride back to the hotel was a blur of electric anticipation. The cab wasn't even a long drive, but you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Every bump in the road, every slight swerve, brought our bodies just a little closer, and I could feel the heat radiating off Carlos beside me. He somehow managed to hold his gas in the entire journey, a feat of self-control that only heightened the suspense.
We finally reached our floor, and I fumbled with my key card, my hands trembling slightly. The door to my room buzzed open, revealing the spacious interior. "Wow, your room is huge! I guess that means I need to work harder," Carlos commented, his eyes scanning the room.
"Well, in a couple of years you'll probably be promoted, so you—" I started, but he interrupted me with a deep, hungry kiss. My hands instinctively went to his ass, gripping the firm, muscular cheeks. He broke the kiss, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I meant that this bigger room will take longer to fully saturate with my stink."
With surprising strength, he forced my back against the wall, then began to grind his hips against my lap. I was quite a bit taller than him, so I had to bend my knees to feel the full, glorious pressure exactly where I wanted it.
His hips rolled slow, purposeful, grinding his ass back into me, his thick, meaty glutes swallowing the bulge in my trousers whole.
Then…
BBRRRRMMMMPHHHFFFTTT.
A wet, heavy blast rumbled straight through those tight khaki shorts, bubbling over my lap like lava down a mountain. My dick jumped, twitching hard against his crack. I gasped into his neck. He chuckled darkly. “Mmm, you felt that, huh?” I could barely answer. He ground in again.
“Enjoy your dessert,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder, “and this cake.”
God, I was already leaking. I could feel the wetness building in my boxers. The fabric stuck to me, damp with need. Every time he shifted, I felt the heat from him wafting back. His scent was already creeping into my brain, fuzzing everything over. A low moan escaped my lips, and I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, suddenly acutely aware of how thin hotel walls could be.
He kept going, his movements slow and deliberate, each grind stoking the fire building within me, punctuated with
BBBBBMMMMPPPPPPFFFFF
FFFFRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT
BBBBRRRRRROOOOORRRPPPPPP
I kept moaning, muffled by my hand, as a wild idea sparked in my mind. "Hey," I whispered, pulling my hand away. "Could you… Could you like, sit on the desk, facing me?"
He looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Like… how you were that morning of the shareholders meeting," I clarified, my voice a little breathless.
It clicked in his mind. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He moved to the sturdy desk, his tight purple khaki shorts straining as they were filled with his gassy, bubble butt. He assumed the position, facing me, his legs dangling slightly.
Then he began to fart, just like he had in my office. A deep, resonant PPPPPPPAAAAAARRRRRRPPPP— started, building in intensity. I couldn't contain myself. Mid-fart, I dove forward, burying my face eagerly into the plump valley between his ass cheeks, changing the sound of the fart to a delightful, muffled THWUMPPP. With both hands, I gave his cheeks a firm, appreciative jiggle. I pulled my face out briefly, gasping, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do this!" Then, without waiting for a response, I went back in, inhaling deeply, eagerly sniffing the warm, musky scent.
He looked at me, his eyes wide, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "I think I did," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
We then moved to the perfectly made king-sized bed. He straddled me slow, swinging one thick leg over until I was pinned beneath him, throbbing. He stared down, lip bitten, hunger in his eyes. My hands found his ass again and that’s when he struck.
FFFFFFFFBBBBAAAAAAAAAARRRRRTTTTTTTT
A gassy blast erupted, hitting both my hand and my dick simultaneously. The heat….fuck…the heat rushed over my tip, soaked into my palm. I groaned, eyes rolling back, twitching beneath him.
“Enjoy that,” he growled, voice low and sinful.
I brought my hand to my nose, fingers still warm from the blast. I sniffed deep. And my dick twitched again, painfully.
I wasn’t gonna last much longer.
Soon after, our lips collided, hot, sloppy, desperate. Carlos’s hands cupped the sides of my face, pulling me in deeper, our mouths dancing somewhere between lust and raw need. His tongue slid against mine while his hips kept rolling, ass grinding hard against my dick like he wanted to break me.
Then…
BBBBBBRRRRPPPPPPPPPLLRRT.
A juicy one, thick and low, puffing out right between kisses. He didn’t even pause. He just moaned into my mouth, letting it roll out like a sigh of pleasure.
“Fffuck, I need to cum,” I gasped against his lips, eyes fluttering.
He pulled back, a wicked grin curling up one corner of his mouth. “Do you now?”
I nodded, almost pleading.
He turned, slow, teasing. The weight shifted off my crotch and suddenly I was staring up at it, his full, powerful ass lowering down like a goddamn throne. My mouth opened instinctively.
He straddled my face fully, his cheeks spreading warm over me, his crack nestling against my lips. I felt his eyes on me, could feel the heat of his stare even through the thickness of him.
Looking down at my leaking, twitching cock, he muttered:
“Alright boss… cum for me.”
PPPPPFFFFRRRRAAAAAAARRRTTTTT.
BBBBBPPPPPPPRRRRRRTTTTTTT.
FFFFFFFHHHHHHBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAPPPPP.
They rolled out in waves, each one hotter, muskier, wetter than the last. I licked. I devoured, my tongue working over his hole, feeling every little tremble, every flutter of gas vibrating through me. The taste was vile and perfect.
My cock jerked. Balls tight. Then….white ropes shot out of me.
I came hard. My hips lifted, toes curling as I shot stream after stream across my own stomach, gasping against his gassy ass.
And above me, Carlos moaned, loud, feral, his whole body trembling.
“Fuuuckkkk,” he groaned.
He came too, the sensation of my tongue teasing his farting hole too much for even him to bear.
We stayed like that, me panting into his crack, him pulsing above me, both of us stinking, sticky, and so blissfully, utterly wrecked.
I woke to the insistent buzz of my early morning alarm, my hand blindly swatting at it until silence reigned again. I turned back, and there it was: the magnificent, undeniable view of Carlos’s huge ass, framed perfectly against the white hotel sheets. I couldn't resist. I leaned in, burying my face deep into the soft, warm curve, inhaling deeply. That faint, musky stench from the night before still lingered, a private perfume.
He grunted softly, shifting in his sleep, and then a deep, resonant BBBMMMMPPPPMMMM escaped him, the smell intensifying, filling my nostrils with his unique scent.
"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Enjoying the pillows?"
"Mmm-hmm," I hummed in response, my nose still firmly planted in his ass.
"As much as I enjoy you smelling my morning farts," he said, his voice now more awake, "We gotta get up, heading to the airport soon."
I reluctantly sat up, the scent of him still thick in the air. "Fuck, it stinks," I grumbled, a smile playing on my lips.
"Guilty," he chuckled, stretching languidly. The whole room, despite its size, certainly stunk of him.
I dashed into the bathroom and grabbed the air freshener, spraying it generously around the room. As I did, he started pulling on his clothes, his muscles flexing under the fabric. That’s when the conversation turned, shifting from the lighthearted to something deeper, something we’d both been circling since he walked back into my life.
"So," I began, my voice a little softer than usual, watching him as he buttoned his shirt, "about… this. Us."
He paused, his fingers still on a button, and met my gaze. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, were serious now. "Yeah. Us."
"I… I don't know what to call it," I admitted, my heart thudding a little harder against my ribs. "Back in uni, it was just… messing around, right? And then you left for the army, and I thought that was it. But then you came back, and then you’re here, at my company, and… last night." I gestured vaguely around the room, the faint lingering smell still a testament to our intimate hours. "It feels different now, Carlos. Like… more."
He finished buttoning his shirt, then walked over to me, closing the small distance between us. He took my hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "It is more," he said, his voice low, earnest. "I always had a thing for you, even back then. But I had to go. Had things to figure out. And now that I'm back, and we're… here," he squeezed my hands gently, "I don't want it to be just messing around anymore. I want it to be… whatever you want it to be. Something real."
My throat tightened. Hearing him say it out loud, admitting to feelings that mirrored my own, was overwhelming. "Something real," I repeated, the words feeling precious on my tongue. "Yeah. Me too." I looked up at him, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "Definitely more."
"Does that mean I can come and fart in your office more?" he asked, a playful glint returning to his eyes, breaking the intensity just enough.
"Well… probably not," I said, a chuckle escaping me. "That might inconvenience others that walk in. And probably violate a few HR policies." I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close, my hands naturally finding their familiar spot on his magnificent ass, gently squeezing. "But… say if you want to come over to mine after work, I'll cook for you." I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his neck, then whispered, my voice thick with promise, "And then you can fart my face into the pillow all night." I hugged him tighter, groaning contentedly as I groped his firm ass. He let out a soft PPFFFFFFTTTT against my thigh, a warm, unmistakable sound of agreement.
