catchthatfart

[catchthatfart]

BULLYS OFFER PT.2 M/M

10 part series released weekly contains face farts and face sitting

The high school bathroom was a grimy, dank hole, the scent of disinfectant and stale urine clinging to the air like a damp cloak. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie, pulsating glow on the chipped and faded gray tiles, each one a testament to the countless feet that had trodden upon them. Graffiti, scrawled in black marker, adorned the walls like some twisted, perverse art exhibition, the crude phrases and images a stark contrast to the delicate lines and shades that Aj was accustomed to.

The cold, hard tiles pressed into his knees as he knelt before Michael, the weight of his backpack digging into his shoulders.

Michael's gaze flicked over Aj's body, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You look pathetic, Glasses. On your knees, begging for it."

Aj's face burned with humiliation, but he didn't move. He couldn't. His body was frozen, trapped in Michael's scrutiny." Turn around, Glasses. Let's make this quick," Michael ordered, his voice a low growl.

"Turn around and put your face on the toilet seat. I don't want to smell your fucking shit, but I'm sure you'll be happy to smell mine."

Aj's stomach churned at the thought, his body trembling with a mix of fear and revulsion. But he did as he was told, turning around and positioning his face on the cold, hard rim of the toilet seat. The seat was gritty with dust and God knows what else, and Aj tried not to think about what he was about to do.

Michael chuckled, a harsh, harsh sound. "Good boy, Glasses.

Now keep that pretty little face right there while I take care of business," Michael taunted, his voice dripping with venom. Aj felt a rush of humiliation and nausea as he heard the crinkle of Michael's pants and the unzipping of his fly. He tried to block out the reality of the situation, telling himself that it would be over soon. But the anticipation of what was to come was already making him sick.

Michael let out a low, groaning sigh of relief as he settled himself onto the toilet seat, his weight pressing down on Aj's face.

The cold porcelain bit into Aj's skin, the grittiness of it scraping against his cheek like sandpaper. He could feel the heat of Michael's body radiating through his pants, the scent of his musk filling his nostrils. He tried to hold his breath, but it was no use. The stench was overpowering, and he gagged, his stomach churning.

"Fuck, that's disgusting," Michael chuckled, his voice muffled as he shifted slightly. You can do better than that.

The fart that Michael releases is a noxious cloud of sulfur and decay, like a rotten egg left to fester in a damp, forgotten corner. It's a pungent, acrid smell that burns Aj's nostrils and stings his eyes, making them water involuntarily. The stench is so overpowering that it seems to cling to the back of Aj's throat, making him gag and retch as he tries to expel it from his lungs. It's a smell that's impossible to ignore, a putrid reminder of the humiliation he's enduring.

Aj tries to hold his breath, but it's no use. He's forced to inhale deeply, the stench filling his lungs like a poison. He gags, his body convulsing as he tries to expel the foul air. Don't be such a pussy," Michael taunts, his voice thick with amusement. "You said you'd do this, so do it right."

Aj's vision swims, tears stinging his eyes as he tries to keep his face planted firmly on the toilet seat. He can feel the sweat trickling down his back, his skin clammy and cold. The humiliation is a physical thing, a weight pressing down on him, smothering him. He wants to scream, to struggle, to fight back, but he can't. His body is frozen, trapped in a nightmare he can't wake up from.

Michael shifts again, his body settling more firmly on the seat. Aj can feel the heat of him, the weight, the pressure. He can feel the bulge of Michael's cock, hard and insistent, pressing against his cheek. He wants to recoil, to push away, but he can't. He's trapped, a prisoner to Michael's cruel whims.

Next part coming soon ....

[catchthatfart]

Bulllys offer PT.1 M/M

10 part series released weekly contains fart slavery.

The rustle of paper echoed through the empty art room as Aj flipped through the pages of his sketchbook, the worn edges of each page marked with charcoal and graphite remnants. The faint scent of pine from the window cleaner and the cool breeze from the open window lingered in the air. He was alone, as usual, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights that flickered overhead. The room was his sanctuary, a place where he could lose himself in the world of art and forget the harsh realities of high school life.

Aj's fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, feeling the familiar wrinkle of fabric where his sketchbook was tucked away, hidden from the prying eyes of his classmates.The sound of the bell echoed down the hallway, signaling the end of lunch and the start of the next period. Aj sighed, his shoulders slumping as he closed his sketchbook and tucked it into his backpack, the weight of it a comfort against his spine. He pushed open the door to the art room, stepping out into the bustling hallway, the noise level instantly rising like a tidal wave.

Students rushed past him, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Aj kept his head down, his glasses slipping slightly on his nose as he adjusted them. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his chest as he collided with something solid and immovable. He stumbled back, nearly dropping his backpack. "Watch where the fuck you're going, Glasses!"

Aj looked up, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw Michael standing in front of him, a cruel smirk on his face. Michael was a towering figure, his muscular frame dwarfing Aj's scrawny build.His eyes, cold and unyielding, narrowed as he looked down at Aj's paint-stained shirt. A slow grin spread across his face, his teeth flashing white against his tanned skin.

"Looks like someone spilled their fucking paint," he taunted, his voice low and threatening. "Or did you just shit yourself, Glasses?"

The hallway fell silent around them, students turning to stare. Aj's face burned with humiliation, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He wanted to lash out, to scream at Michael, but he knew it would only make things worse.

Instead, he whispered, "It was an accident."Michael leaned in closer, his breath hot on Aj's face, his voice little more than a growl. "Accidents can be fixed, Glasses. Let's make a deal."

Aj hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "What kind of deal?"

Michael glanced around, a sly grin spreading across his face. "I bet you I can make everyone laugh at you again. But this time, you'll do something for me in return."Aj's eyes widened, his gut churning with a mix of fear and disgust.

Michael's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I mean, I want you to let me use your face as a fucking chair. And I want you to smell my fucking farts."

Aj's face paled, the very thought of Michael's proposal making him want to vomit. But he knew Michael was serious. He always was. And the alternative was worse. Much worse.

He hesitated, his breath hitching in his throat. "And if I do...?"

Michael shrugged, his voice dripping with indifference. "I'll leave you alone.For a week. No more bullshit, no more harassment. You'll be free," Michael offered, his voice acidic with false sincerity.

Aj's mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. He could taste the bile rising in his throat, but he knew he had no choice. A week of peace was worth the humiliation. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper, "Okay."

Next part out now....

[catchthatfart]

CHAPTER 1

The Bully's Slave

 Michael  Austin

A desperate homeless man, Austin, is lured into a twisted arrangement with his former bully, Michael. What begins as a promise of shelter turns into a nightmare of degradation, as Austin is forced into becoming Michael's 'fart slave' and 'toilet slave,' enduring unimaginable humiliation.

Austin shuffled down the dimly lit alley, his shoulders hunched against the biting wind. At 25, he felt older than his years, the weight of homelessness pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. His once-pristine clothes were now threadbare and stained, a stark reminder of how far he’d fallen. Skinny and frail, he clutched his tattered backpack close, the only possession he had left in the world. The city’s neon lights flickered above, casting eerie shadows on the grimy walls. He was desperate, his stomach growling with hunger, his mind fogged with exhaustion.

As he turned a corner, a familiar voice sliced through the night air. “Well, well, if it isn’t little Austin,” Michael drawled, his deep, mocking tone sending a shiver down Austin’s spine. Michael stood leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, his muscular frame filling the space with an intimidating presence. At 25, he hadn’t changed much since high school—still the same jock with broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw, and a smirk that promised trouble. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned Austin from head to toe, taking in his disheveled state with undisguised amusement.

“M-Michael,” Austin stammered, his voice trembling. The memories of high school flooded back—the taunts, the shoves, the humiliation. Michael had been his tormentor, the homophobic bully who’d made his life a living hell. Yet, here he was, standing before him like a ghost from the past.

“What are you doing out here, Austin?” Michael asked, his tone feigning concern. “You look like shit.”

Austin bit his lip, the words catching in his throat. “I… I’m just trying to get by,” he mumbled, avoiding Michael’s gaze.

Michael pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them. His cologne, a mix of sweat and expensive aftershave, invaded Austin’s senses. “Get by? You’re homeless, aren’t you?” he said, more of a statement than a question.

Austin nodded, his cheeks burning with shame. “I… I lost my job. I couldn’t pay rent.”

Michael’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with something dark and predatory. “Well, isn’t that just sad. Here I thought you’d have your life together by now. Guess some people never change.”

Austin flinched at the jab, but before he could respond, Michael clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Listen, I’ve got a place. You can crash there if you want. No strings attached.”

Austin’s heart raced. A roof over his head? It was too good to be true. But Michael’s offer felt laced with poison, a trap waiting to snap shut. “Why would you do that?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Michael shrugged, his gaze flicking away for a moment before locking back onto Austin. “Let’s just say I’ve got my reasons. Besides, it’s not like you’ve got many options, do you?”

Desperation clouded Austin’s judgment. He was tired, hungry, and alone. Michael’s offer, however dubious, was his only lifeline. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Michael’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk. “Great. Follow me.”

The apartment was a stark contrast to the squalor Austin had grown accustomed to. It was spacious, modern, and immaculate, with sleek furniture and walls adorned with sports memorabilia. Michael led him to a small spare room, the bed neatly made with crisp white sheets. “This is yours,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “But there are rules.”

Austin’s stomach churned. Rules. He should’ve known there’d be a catch. “What kind of rules?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning cold. “You’ll find out. For now, just be grateful I’m not leaving you on the streets.”

The first few days were uneventful. Michael was rarely home, and Austin spent most of his time alone, trying to piece his life back together. But on the fourth night, everything changed.

Michael returned late, his presence filling the apartment with an air of menace. He strode into the living room where Austin sat, his eyes glued to an old sitcom on TV. Without a word, Michael plopped down on the couch, his body invading Austin’s personal space. “You know, Austin,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ve been thinking. You owe me for letting you stay here.”

Austin’s heart pounded in his chest. “I… I can pay you back. I just need time to find a job.”

Michael laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. “Pay me back? Oh, sweetheart, it’s not about money.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against Austin’s ear. “You’re going to earn your keep. And I’ve got just the job for you.”

Before Austin could respond, Michael shifted, his muscular thigh pressing against Austin’s slender frame. “You see, Austin, I’ve got needs. And you’re going to help me with them.”

Austin’s eyes widened in horror as Michael’s hand snaked around his waist, pulling him closer. “W-what are you talking about?” he stammered, his voice shaking.

Michael’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into Austin’s skin. “I’m talking about you becoming my fart slave,” he whispered, his breath warm and foul against Austin’s neck. “You’re going to inhale every fart I produce. Every. Single. One.”

Austin’s stomach churned, a mix of disgust and fear overwhelming him. “What? No, I can’t—”

Michael cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Oh, you can and you will. Unless you’d rather be back on the streets, starving and alone.”

Tears welled in Austin’s eyes as Michael’s grip tightened further. “Please… I don’t want to do this,” he whimpered, his voice breaking.

Michael’s expression turned cruel, his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. “Too bad. You’re mine now, Austin. My little fart slave. And this is just the beginning.”

Without warning, Michael shifted his weight, his ass hovering inches from Austin’s face. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Austin froze, his mind racing. This couldn’t be happening. But Michael’s grip was like iron, and the threat of being thrown back onto the streets was too terrifying to ignore. With a trembling hand, he parted his lips, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Michael smirked, his eyes dark with dominance. “Good boy,” he purred, his voice dripping with condescension. And then, without warning, he let out a loud, wet fart, the noxious smell engulfing Austin’s senses.

Austin gagged, his eyes watering as the putrid odor invaded his nostrils. He tried to pull away, but Michael’s grip was unyielding, forcing him to inhale the foul emission. “Breathe it in, Austin,” Michael growled, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Smell my fart. Worship it.”

Tears streamed down Austin’s cheeks as he obeyed, his lungs filling with the rank scent. Michael’s laughter echoed in his ears, a cruel soundtrack to his humiliation. “That’s it,” Michael taunted. “Take it all in. You’re my fart slave now, and this is your purpose.”

As the days turned into weeks, Michael’s demands escalated. What started as forced fart inhalation soon morphed into something far more degrading. One evening, as Austin sat on the couch, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in his stomach, Michael emerged from the bathroom, a sinister smirk playing on his lips.

“Austin,” he called, his voice laced with mock sweetness. “I need you in here.”

Austin’s heart sank as he followed Michael into the bathroom. The room was spotless, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne. But it was the toilet that caught Austin’s attention—the lid was up, and Michael was standing beside it, his expression unreadable.

“What is it?” Austin asked, his voice trembling.

Michael’s smirk widened. “I need to take a shit. And you’re going to eat it.”

The words hit Austin like a physical blow. “What? No, I can’t—”

Michael’s hand shot out, grabbing Austin by the jaw. “You will,” he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury. “You’re my toilet slave now, Austin. And you’ll do whatever I say.” ’t argue, his body trembling with revulsion.

Michael’s eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure as he positioned himself over the toilet, his muscular legs bracketing Austin’s frail form. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice brooking no disobedience.

Austin’s tears fell freely as he obeyed, his lips parting slightly. The bathroom was eerily silent except for Michael’s heavy breathing and the soft whimpers escaping Austin’s throat. Michael grunted, his face contorting with effort as he began to defecate, the vile sounds filling the room.

A thick, steaming turd slid from Michael’s anus, landing with a wet plop into the toilet water. Austin gagged, his stomach churning violently, but Michael’s grip on his jaw tightened, forcing his mouth open wider. “You’re going to eat it,” Michael growled, his voice laced with dominance. “Every last bit.”

With a cruel smirk, Michael reached into the toilet, his fingers closing around the warm, shit-covered log. Austin’s eyes widened in horror as Michael pulled it out, holding it inches from his face. “Open wider,” Michael commanded, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

Austin’s sobs turned into desperate whimpers as he complied, his mouth stretching unnaturally wide. Michael didn’t hesitate, shoving the feces-coated turd between Austin’s lips. The putrid taste exploded on Austin’s tongue, the bitter, earthy flavor overwhelming his senses. He tried to close his mouth, to push it out, but Michael’s fingers pressed against his cheeks, forcing him to take it all.

“Chew,” Michael ordered, his voice cold and detached.

Austin’s tears mixed with the saliva and shit in his mouth as he obeyed, his jaw working mechanically. The texture was disgusting—soft yet fibrous, warm and slick. He wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but Michael’s grip was unyielding, his eyes daring Austin to defy him.

“Swallow,” Michael commanded, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Austin’s throat constricted, his gag reflex threatening to betray him. But Michael’s fingers dug into his jaw, forcing the shit down his throat. With a guttural cry, Austin swallowed, the vile mass sliding into his stomach.

Michael’s laughter echoed in the bathroom, cold and mocking. “Good boy,” he purred, his hand stroking Austin’s tear-streaked cheek. “You’re learning your place.”

As the weeks turned into months, Austin’s life became a never-ending cycle of degradation. He was Michael’s fart slave, his toilet slave, his personal plaything. Michael’s demands grew more extreme, his cruelty knowing no bounds. Austin was forced to worship Michael’s body, to kiss his feet, to lick his ass clean after every bowel movement. He was made to wear a collar, a constant reminder of his submission.

But through it all, Austin remained trapped, his spirit broken but not yet extinguished. Michael’s dominance was absolute, his power over Austin undeniable. And as Austin lay on the floor, his face pressed into the carpet, inhaling Michael’s latest fart, he knew there was no escape. He was Michael’s slave, body and soul, and his humiliation was only just beginning.