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eproctomaniac · 2 days ago

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hmmmmm, plotting and scemeing,,,,,

In my head, these four are brothers. Allow me to explain…

Tom:

Tom is the oldest of the bunch—the responsible one. An honest, well-mannered fellow, he’s spent his whole life having to look out for others, so he’s gotten pretty used to being the guy who speaks up and calls the shots. It doesn’t matter where he is, or who he’s with, he moves through life with a presentational sense of confidence and behaves as though he’s the top dog—in charge of everyone—which is something that stems from some deep-seeded childhood trauma. As far back as he can remember, he’s been second in command to his parents’ authority… the one that would handle his brothers’ petty disputes and emotional outbursts when his parents weren’t in the immediate vicinity. If something went wrong, he had to handle it… and when he couldn’t get things in order, he was the one who took the fall. Everything was his fault… and everything was his problem to fix. Each of his brothers’ actions were considered his actions, and every single one of his actions were seen an example… a precedent for his younger siblings. Somehow, the shame and paranoia that used to haunt him transformed into an unhealthy form of pride. These days, that natural tendency to overpower every other voice in a room tends to bite him in the butt… but it’s not totally a bad thing. With endless experience in being a mediator, Tom has grown to be an incredible problem solver and people-person, who values rationality and above all else, and possesses exceptional emotional intelligence. What’s right is right, and what’s wrong is wrong. There is no gray area or leeway… only reasonable explanations, that sway toward either side. These days, he’s still parenting his brothers in many ways—keeping them from making bad decisions, lending them money whenever they need it, and breaking up their petty fights. That’ll never change. He’s a successful author—who’s written several bestselling motivational, business, and self-help books in his career—the co-owner of a small chain of coffee shops on the west coast, and he’s invested in several local businesses all over the state. Even though that may sound like a lot… and it is… Tom isn’t exactly rolling around in millions—just one or two. Living by himself, in a big house by the beach, just a few hours away from his childhood home and immediate family, he’s pretty comfortable. He’s got no spouse to compromise with, no children to chastise, and nobody around to put any kind of pressure on him, and him feel like he’s doing something wrong. It’s just perfect.

Jordan:

Jordan is the second oldest—the bad boy. Growing up with Tom as his big brother, micromanaging his every move, and constantly filling his head with arbitrary concepts of right and wrong, Jordan has always enjoyed the thrill of breaking rules. Even as an adult, he hates having to answer to anyone, and will go out of his way to defy the wishes of any authority figures that he encounters. He’s not dangerous, by any means, but more of a petty pest—the kind of guy who pokes the bear for fun, until it mauls him to death. He doesn’t go overboard with the things that he does to spite people, or purposefully put anyone in danger… but he’s still an asshole. An asshole who, deep down, has a good heart… though he tries his best not to show it. Jordan flunked out of college because he stopped going to class, after spending an entire semester causing disruptions in lecture halls and cheating on assignments. He got kicked out of his parents’ house because he kept rigging all of the electronic appliances to shock whoever used them. He’s even been to jail a few times, for a handful of stupid non-violent crimes that he committed in his early twenties. Nothing serious. Jordan is such a dick, he can’t keep a job, or a partner, or even a roof over his head. He lives fast, breezes through his life like a speeding train—one thing after another, after another—and now he’s so far down the wrong path, he’s hit a dead end. In his late twenties, he wants nothing more than to get his life on track, and find some sense of stability… but old habits die hard, and abrasive personalities don’t change overnight. Having not spoken to his family for years, he’s recently reconnected with his brothers, CJ and Stephen, and is trying to make up for the lost time. As far as reconciling with Tom and their parents goes, it’s still a work in progress. Tom sends him money every now and then, and checks in on him from time to time, but they haven’t really spoken in ages. Aside from his brothers, Jordan has no other family to rely on—no serious partners, or any kids… that he knows of—so it’s important to him that he un-burns those bridges as soon as he can. These days, Jordan is either living out of his car or crashing at CJ’s apartment. He makes his money via Onlyfans, Fansly, and a wide selection of cam sites, just so he can get by. Seeing the wonders that it’s done for others—like CJ—and feeling as though he has no other legal options, he’s only testing the waters of the porn world while he waits for something better to come along, but the money is looking good, and the job prospects are thin. Maybe he’ll ride the wave a bit longer.

CJ:

Cj is the second youngest—the sexy himbo. He’s gone his whole life skating by on his looks alone, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. He first knew he was handsome when he was a little boy… when women at the grocery store would stop him and his mother in the aisles and gush over how cute they thought he was. They’d pinch his cheeks, ruffle his hair, and go on and on about how he was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up. Little did they know that they were creating a little monster. When he got to elementary school, and started to interact with other kids more frequently, he quickly noticed how all of the little girls in his class would fawn over him. They’d bat their little eyelashes and giggle like mice whenever he spoke… and, at first, it made him a bit uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to that kind of attention from kids his age. Most, if not all of his typical admirers were grown women, just being sweet… but, as the years went on, and the girls got more bold, he began to learn how to use his looks to his advantage, and get the better of his peers. CJ wasn’t good at long division in third grade, so he’d always ask the smart girls to do his math homework for him—bribe them with quick kisses, or by inviting them to play with him at recess, and use them like his own personal minions. They were so easy to trick. Middle school was just the same. He got taller, his voice dropped, his teenage features started to take shape, and his lean physique became more muscular… and from the time he entered the sixth grade, all the way up through the end of his eighth grade year, he hardly ever had to try academically. That’s how easy life was for him, up until he graduated high school. Instead of doing things himself, he’d just pass the buck to someone else and take the credit for what they did—whether it was a beautiful, naive girl, or his own brothers—and, by the time he was a legal adult, he had nothing to show for himself. He couldn’t do simple math, or read any books that didn’t have interesting pictures on them. He couldn’t cook for himself, do his own laundry, or drive a car. He could hardly even hold a conversation. Tom tried to help him learn, teaching him how to care for himself—past maintaining his appearance—but he quickly gave up the effort when his career started to take off. Left to his own devices, as an extremely late bloomer, CJ didn’t have any of the skills that it took to make it as an adult… but he did have his amazing body. Using what he had in order to get what he wanted, CJ dove headfirst into the porn industry, taking any job that came his way, and stacking up the money. He did both amateur and professional work—hardcore stuff, fetish stuff, taboo stuff, and vanilla. He slept with guys, girls, and everyone in between, all in an effort to make enough cash to move out of his parents’ house and live on his own… and it didn’t take long before he had the keys to his very own apartment. Now, he’s living by himself, pumping out NSFW content like a peon factory, making thousands of dollars a week, and showing Jordan how he can do the same. Having been in the business for a few years, CJ is a very successful entertainer… and, after years of being a lackluster student, he’s finally discovering the joys of teaching and mentoring someone else, for a change.

Stephen:

Stephen is the youngest—the kind-hearted, awkward geek, who’s just trying to start what will be the rest of his life on the right track. Having idolized his eldest brother, Tom, for pretty much all of his life, Stephen knows that it takes hard work, intelligence, and integrity to be successful in this world, and he wants to build a great foundation for the rest of his life to thrive on. He sees the things that his other brothers are doing, and he doesn’t judge them for it, or see them as any lesser, but he knows that he wants more for himself than what they have. He wants to be like Tom. His only problem is that he’s in his first semester of college, and he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life yet. There are so many possibilities, and so many paths that he could follow. He could be a doctor, or an engineer, or a writer. He always did have an interest in biology and anatomy, and he’s got his academic transcripts are outstanding. He could be an architect, or go into the business world. The choices are endless! Just barely nineteen, living under his parents’ roof, he’s a blank canvas with the world at his feet… and he has no idea what he wants to do with it yet.

Maybe I’ll end up writing some story with these characters soon… explore them some more.

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eproctomaniac · 3 days ago

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Alex Sampson | via Snapchat

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eproctomaniac · 3 days ago

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Superpowerd Stink part 2

Jayce POV

I’m startled awake not by my alarm, but by the familiar low rumble and pungent stench of my gigantic roommate’s morning gas. It’s been almost a month since Willis and I became dormmates at Ridgemore U, one of the top superhero colleges in the world. Some mornings, I question my decision to stick around.

Still groggy, I glance at the clock. Nearly 7:30 a.m. I might as well get up and start getting ready for my eight o'clock class.

As I stretch out of bed, my eyes land on the gas giant himself. Willis is passed out in his massive custom bed, made longer and wider to support his nine-foot-something frame. He’s wearing nothing but clingy boxer shorts and a tank top that barely manages to stretch over his chest. His snoring is deep and irregular, frequently interrupted by loud bursts of gas that shake the air like thunder. The worst part is the smell—thick, warm, and impossible to ignore. I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve been forced into a hazy state by the noxious air in our room.

But I stick around. Despite his intimidating height of 9 and a half feet (yes, you read that correctly) and his proportionally muscular body, most people who meet him think he’s the stereotypical jock bully. But he’s actually a really nice guy albeit a tad airheaded in that typical jockish way. I find myself liking him more and more as the semester continues.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I get dressed and brush my teeth. The dorms at Ridgemore are surprisingly nice spacious, modern, well-kept. At least, they start that way. Ours used to be clean. Not anymore. Willis isn’t a total slob, but he definitely lives like no one’s ever told him to pick up after himself. His clothes are always scattered across the floor. Sometimes it’s a sock so rank it could qualify as a biohazard. Other times, it’s a sweat-drenched t-shirt hanging over the back of a chair, heavy with the scent of his body odor and long enough to reach my ankles.

Before leaving, I glance back at him one more time. He’s still out cold, just barely the right size to fit onto his extended mattress. Another deep, vibrating fart leaks out of him and fills the air. I’ve bought three different air purifiers since week one. They help a little, but it’s like trying to filter smoke with a paper towel.

Since I’m ahead of schedule, I decide to stop by a nearby café for breakfast and coffee before heading to class. I make my way through campus, taking in the early morning quiet. The crisp fall air is refreshing after being at ground zero with my gas bag of a roommate. It’s peaceful. For a moment, I feel like I can breathe again literally and metaphorically.

Then I see him.

My steps stop short.

Standing just a few feet ahead of me is someone I hoped I’d never see again. Mitchell.

I double-check, but there’s no mistaking that square-jawed smirk and smug body language. He’s laughing, talking to some other guy like nothing in the world has ever bothered him. But all I can think about is the past. The way he used to humiliate me in high school. His powers—super strength and flight gave him the freedom to pick on whoever he wanted, and I was always an easy target. I still remember the way he’d grab me by the ankles and fly loops around the schoolyard, dangling me like a toy until a supervisor stepped in. When you take hormonal teenagers with emerging and often dangerous supernatural abilities and throw them into a boarding school together, bullies and a natural hierarchy are bound to form, and he was at the top.

For a second, I hope he doesn’t notice me.

But he does.

His eyes lock onto mine with the same cruel recognition I remember too well. My stomach turns. Just like that, the peace of the morning is gone.

“Hey, is that Jayce?”

He snickers under his breath, waving off his friend like he’s dismissing a waiter.

“Long time no see, man,” he says, like we’re supposed to be all buddy-buddy.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice already shaking a little. I try to play it cool, like I’m not thrown off. “Didn’t know you were going here.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know you were either,” he says, glancing me up and down with that smirk I remember way too well. He’s tall not as much as Willis, but definitely 6'4", maybe more. Still broad, still annoyingly perfect-looking.

“So what are you majoring in?” he asks, folding his arms like he’s genuinely interested.

“Hero Psychology,” I say, nearly mumbling and instantly regretting how lame it sounds coming out of my mouth.

He pauses for just a second, then lets out a little laugh through his nose.

“Wow. That’s... something,” he says. “I guess it makes sense. You always were more of a thinker than a doer.” He says it like it’s a compliment, but I know it isn’t.

I force a chuckle like I didn’t catch the tone, even though I did.

He keeps going.

“I’m doing Hero Tactics and Urban Response. My advisor actually pulled me aside the other day, said I’m on track for great things.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can see the pride practically steaming off him. “I guess they keep track of a few of us for apprenticeships. Seems like they like hands-on types, y’know?”

I nod slowly.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.” He draws it out, like he’s savoring how awkward I feel. “But hey, it’s good you’re here. Psychology’s important too. Every team needs someone to take notes and stuff or whatever it is you guys do.”

I want to say something back, anything, but nothing useful comes out. Just more small talk, more fake smiles. He clearly doesn’t care about catching up. He’s just waiting for the chance to brag about how amazing he thinks he is.

Eventually, he turns and waves his friend back over like a master calling his dog. They walk off, and just before they disappear into the crowd, Mitchell glances back over his shoulder and smirks again like he’s already told his buddy what a joke I am.

Red-faced and pissed off, I storm off toward class, completely losing my appetite.

Why couldn’t I say something? Why did I just stand there and let it happen again?

Did he really think I forgot what he did back then?

Or worse does he not even remember?

Those thoughts swirl around in my head the rest of the day.

When I return to the dorm, I plop down onto my bed still a bit stressed, but on the bright side, it’s Friday and the weekend’s a long one. I grab some food and bring it back to the room to chill for the rest of the night.

While I’m eating, the door slides open and Willis ducks in.

“What’s good, bro?” he says as he sees me.

He’s wearing his ill-fitting school training uniform, clearly just back from one of those hands-on Hero Training classes. He reeks of B.O., and the massive, now-empty protein shake bottle in his hand tells me exactly what kind of night it’s going to be.

“Dude, you wouldn’t believe the practice I just had,” he says, kicking off his massive sneakers.

I brace myself, but it doesn’t help the sour smell of his feet hits fast and hard, mixing with his already thick body odor.

“Some girl with fire powers got mad about her ranking at the end of the session. She burned a big-ass hole in the field.”

He looks over at me with a goofy grin, clearly expecting a reaction. I manage a chuckle, but he must sense something’s off.

“You alright, bro?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

He pauses, squints a little. “Nah, man. I’ve seen you tired. This is different.”

I sigh internally. For as clueless as he can be sometimes, Willis is surprisingly good at reading people.

“It’s nothing, really,” I say. “Just ran into some jerk from high school, that’s all.”

His face shifts more serious now.

“Jerk like what, like a bully?”

“Yeah. I guess like that.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Who is he? I’m just curious.”

There’s something particularly menacing about an angry giant, and I suddenly feel bad for even bringing it up. Still, he presses gently.

“Mitchell O’Donnell,” I say.

He repeats it under his breath, brow still furrowed. “Mitchell O’Donnell...”

He looks like he’s thinking hard.

“I know that name. I think he’s in my Defense and Rescue Training course.”

“Look, just leave it alone,” I tell him. “It’s water under the bridge.”

He stares at me for a moment.

“I just don’t like when people mess with my friends, that’s all. Look, I’ll just let him know we’re buddies and that’ll be the end of it, okay?”

I weigh the pros and cons in my head and eventually agree.

It would be nice for him to know that my roommate is the biggest man on campus, and as long as it’s just a simple name-drop and he’s not full-on threatening Mitch, there shouldn’t be any problems.

I sleep that night better than I would’ve if I hadn’t spoken to Willis. He’s oddly a good listener when he wants to be.

I sleep in the next morning, and when I wake up, Willis is gone which is odd, since he usually also takes the weekends to sleep in.

I check my phone and see a message from him:

Getting an early morning lift 🏋‍♂️ see ya afterwards and we’ll grab lunch.

Something’s definitely off, but I put my thoughts aside and reply before getting ready for the morning. Even in his absence, his scent is heavy in the air. Whatever was in the shake from yesterday did a number on him. The rotten haze in the room makes me woozy, but I manage to get ready to meet Willis.

I grab my food and wait in our usual spot. Soon, in comes Willis. He must’ve showered after the gym because miraculously he actually smells pleasant, for now at least.

When I ask him how his workout went, he lets out a chuckle.

“Let’s just say little Mitchell won’t be picking on you anymore.”

As much as I beg to know what happened, he won’t tell me.

Willis POV

I wake up the morning after Jayce tells me about his high school bully making trouble for him again. My plan for revenge is already in place. Now all I have to do is prepare.

Last night, while Jayce was distracted watching some movie on his laptop, I was laying the foundation. I found Mitchell’s socials easily. From there, I shot him a text:

Willis: Yo, you’re Mitchell O'Donnell right? I'm Willis Miller I'm in the same D.R.T course as you. Wanna work out early tomorrow morning at the west campus gym? It's super low-key.

Mitchell: Wait, Willis Miller? You’re that big guy, right? Your stats say you’re 9'5" is that true??

Willis: Yup.

Mitchell: Bro, you’re fucking massive. Hell yeah, I wanna work out with you.

Willis: Cool. See you 7:30 a.m.?

Mitchell: Yeah, that’s great, big man. Nice n' early see you then.

Early that morning, I load up on all the junk I know gives me wicked gas some chocolate bars, a huge protein shake, and a few breakfast sandwiches from the dining hall. After an hour, I’m ready.

I head to the gym, my stomach already protesting my less-than-ideal breakfast. When I see Mitchell, I recognize him instantly from his profile. Honestly, he looks kind of disappointing. He must barely scrape 6'5". For a normal person, that's fine but I’m not exactly normal.

We chat a bit and start hitting the weights. As we begin, I ask him how his roommate is, and he tells me about some buddy named Liam with shapeshifting powers. “Comes in handy when we need to buy alcohol,” he says with a smug grin.

Then he falls into my trap and asks about mine.

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty cool. Name’s Jayce.”

He nearly jumps. “Jayce? Like Jayce Peterson?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. You know him?”

“Haha, do I know him? We went to high school together. He was a friend of mine.”

“Really?” I say, skeptically. “That’s not what I heard. In fact, I heard you were quite the bully.”

His face drops. He looks slightly nervous. “Oh, come on, man not bullying, just uh… boying around. Nothing serious.”

I place a hand on my stomach and glance at him like I’m about to say something then let rip a lengthy fart that vibrates the floor beneath us.

“Whoops. That one slipped out,” I chuckle.

His face turns pale. He chuckles nervously too.

I motion to a bench on the far side of the gym. “C’mon, let’s finish this up. I’ve got somewhere to be in a bit.”

He stumbles over, and I load up 3,000 pounds—my max on a lazy day. I motion for him to try, and even with me spotting him, he can barely lift it.

When we rack the weight, he’s exhausted from the effort and probably from the lingering stink in the air.

“You know, Mitch, there’s nothing I hate more than a bully. Us big guys? We’re supposed to stand up for the little guynot push them around.”

Before he can respond, I sit on his face, muffling his groans with my massive, sweat-soaked cheeks.

“The next time you think about talking down to someone like you’re some hotshot,” I growl, “remember this moment.”

And with that, I let loose the beast I’d been holding in all morning.

The bench quakes beneath us. The room fills with a hot, dense stench that smells like sewage mixed with rotting meat. I catch a whiff and nod in approval it’s foul.

Mitchell’s unconscious body slumps to the floor.

With a satisfied breath, I head to the showers to clean up and get ready for lunch with Jayce.

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eproctomaniac · 3 days ago

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Superpowerd Stink: Part 1

Jayce (top image)

Willis (bottom image)

Like many others in my world, I manifested my powers during puberty. The first time it happened, I accidentally broke a vase with my mind during an argument. From that point on, life at home got... complicated. My emerging telekinetic abilities made day-to-day living unpredictable and tense, barley 1% of humans have supernatural abilities, and my parents, being your run of the mill powerless humans didn’t make things any better.

So, like most teenagers with supernatural abilities, I was sent off to a private academy to hone my powers. After high school, I enrolled at one of the most prestigious hero colleges in the U.S.—Ridgemore U. Becoming an actual superhero had never really interested me, but I figured there had to be other ways I could use my abilities to help people.

The dorms on campus were large and surprisingly spacious, with sleek, futuristic sliding doors that had to be at least nine feet tall, clearly built to accommodate a wide variety of students with unique traits. As I stepped into my room and began unpacking, I found myself wondering, What kind of freak needs doors that tall?

That’s when my roommate arrived.

A towering, muscular young man ducked slightly under the doorframe to enter the room. My jaw nearly dropped. He introduced himself as Willis Miller, and his enormous hand completely engulfed mine in a handshake.

"Uh... Jayce, nice to meet you," I answered awkwardly.

Willis was a miniature giant among men. His presence alone filled the room. As we both unpacked our things, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him when he wasn’t looking. Beyond his height, he was honestly kind of stunning dark brown hair almost black, a strong jawline, a thick, athletic linebacker build, and a slight red flush on his cheeks. His school-logo t-shirt was drenched at the armpits and stretched over his torso, showcasing his broad shoulders, solid pecs, and huge arm muscles. But the part that really drew my attention was his ass perfectly round and far too tempting not to notice. Every time he bent down to dig something out of his duffel bag, my eyes drifted back to it.

As we got settled, we started talking and getting to know each other. Eventually, we revealed our powers. Willis shared that he was the son of the former hero ,Titus." Suddenly, his size made a lot more sense. Titus had been a popular, though somewhat niche, hero back in the '90s. He was famous for his staggering height 8 feet 5 inches, which made him one of the world’s tallest heroes. Along with his super strength and durability, he was a fan favorite.

Now I was sharing a room with his son, who had inherited his abilities and then some. I resisted the urge to ask, but he had to be at least 9 feet tall.

Willis had a chill, easygoing jock energy to him the type of guy who’d probably been popular in high school without even trying. His voice was deep, and his sentences had a charming slowness to them. He was like an oversized himbo. That kind of relaxed confidence helped put me at ease, at least a little.

After we finished unpacking, our stomachs started to grumble, so we decided to check out the cafeteria. As Willis led the way, I trailed a step behind, trying not to stare. His basketball shorts clung tightly to his huge glutes, each step sending a hypnotic bounce through that massive bubble butt. It was like watching a work of art move in slow motion. I had to literally shake my head to snap myself out of it.

Once we got to the cafeteria, my first-day nerves limited me to just a small sandwich. Willis, on the other hand, put away a borderline ridiculous amount of food four double cheeseburgers with fries, a personal pan pizza, two large chocolate milkshakes, and for dessert, a giant cookie and soft serve. It was like watching a human garbage disposal in action. He didn’t even look remotely full afterward. Casually, he let out a deep 10-second belch and blew it to the side. But for the next few minutes, I could smell the meaty stench of it in the air.

As we were tossing out our trays, I caught a strange look on his face. It was subtle, like he was trying to suppress something, but I didn’t think much of it. We decided to head back to the dorm to charge our phones before heading out to explore campus some more.

Walking back, Willis led the way again, his long legs carrying him smoothly down the hall. Suddenly, he stopped short, and I nearly bumped into him. Before I could ask what was wrong, he lifted one leg slightly and let out a massive fart.

It was thunderous. Easily 20 seconds long. Loud enough to echo down the hallway and rattle the nearby windows like a mini-earthquake. Then the smell hit me.

A wave of hot, putrid air slammed into my face like a wall. It was awful a sickening mix of rotten eggs, spoiled milk, and sewage. I felt my face heat up and the bile rise in my throat, but I forced it back down, swallowing hard.

Willis turned around, face flushed but with a mischievous smirk.

“Phew,” he said, fanning the air behind him. “Guess two milkshakes and ice cream was overkill. Dairy’s tearing me up.”

I tried to laugh, to keep it light, but I was genuinely getting dizzy from the lingering stench. Willis’s smile faltered slightly, replaced with concern as he looked me over.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you some fresh air,” he said, guiding me gently with his huge hand on my back.

He led me far enough down the hall that the air was clean again free from the noxious cloud he’d unleashed and I started to feel a bit better. My head was still spinning slightly, but at least I could breathe again.

Dazed, I looked up at Willis. He wore a lopsided expression part guilty, part amused.

“Sorry about that, bro,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should’ve warned you before I let one rip. You okay though? You were looking a little lightheaded back there. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s passed out, I’ll tell you that much.”

I blinked at him, trying to gauge whether he was joking or being serious.

“Yeah... I’m fine, don’t worry,” I said, unsure if I should laugh or be concerned.

He grinned wide, clearly enjoying my reaction, but there was a flicker of sincerity behind his eyes like he genuinely hoped I was okay, even if he thought it was kind of funny.

When we arrived back at the dorm, Willis pulled out the bed extender he was provided for his size accommodations and snapped it into place before collapsing onto his mattress. He kicked off his sneakers with a heavy thud and laid back, scrolling through his phone for a bit.

That’s when I caught a glance that made me whip my head around in awe. I hadn’t really noticed before, but his feet and his shoes were massive. Possibly bigger than my entire lower arm. If I had to guess just from looking…

Then, just as suddenly, that same lightheaded feeling from earlier returned. The sharp stench of his foot odor began to fill the room like an invisible gas bomb. It was like he marinated old cheese in warm vinegar and let his feet soak in it overnight. My nose wrinkled, and I tried not to gag.

Willis glanced over and caught me staring. He grinned.

“Yeah, they’re huge, right?”

I tried to play it cool, pretending I wasn’t looking but he saw right through me.

“Nah, bro, no shame in it. I’m a big guy. I get that you’re probably curious. Size 34, before you ask. And I’m a tad over 9’5 nowadays.”

My mouth nearly dropped open.

“Thirty-four?? I—I didn’t even know they made shoes that big,” I stammered.

“They don’t,” he laughed. “But it helps that my dad was famous in his glory days and can pay for custom pairs whenever I need ’em. The money from his merch loyalties alone is enough to keep our family comfortable.”

“Uh—royalties,” I corrected.

“Yeah, those things,” he said.

Then he nodded toward the corner where I left my shoes. “What about you, big man?”

Something about the way he called me big man, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth, made my heart skip a beat.

“Size 10,” I said, suddenly a little self-conscious of my completely normal feet.

Willis looked like he was doing the math in his head, then chuckled. “Damn… I haven’t worn shoes that small since I was a kid.”

He stared at me for a beat, then noticed my discomfort and the lightheadedness from the stink still encircling the room.

“Oh shit, my bad, bro,” he said, quickly getting up and sliding the window open. “I forget how bad these dogs can reek after being cooped up all day.”

Cool air rushed in, and the worst of the smell began to slowly disperse. He glanced back at me.

“You good?”

Snapping out of my daze, I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said with a relieved sigh, though the air still hung heavy with the scent of foot funk. It was the second time this giant of a man had nearly rendered me unconscious with his stink.

And if I’m being completely honest with myself... it was a little bit attractive.

As I was lost in thought, trying not to look visibly overwhelmed, he caught the expression on my face and decided to come clean.

“This might sound weird,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck, “but it’s kind of part of my powers, well.. kinda. I mean, I’m obviously way bigger and stronger than the average human... but I’m also, like, ten times as smelly.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “Big man, big stink. Kinda like an extra power if you wanna look at it that way.”

I blinked at him, stunned.

“All my life I’ve had issues keeping my odor in check,” he continued. “Especially when it comes to gas. It’s bad, man. Like, hazardous levels of bad. That earlier comment I made? About people passing out? I wasn’t joking. I’ve knocked out more folks than I can count.”

He was so casual about it, so matter-of-fact, that I had to strain not to get turned on. I tried not to think too hard about it, but his lingering foot odor still in the air only made the task more difficult.

When he finished explaining, his expression turned a little guilty.

“I should’ve said something earlier. You totally have the right to talk to the housing office if you want a new roommate. I’d get it, seriously.”

But I surprised him and maybe even myself when I shook my head.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll stick around.”

His eyes lit up. A wide, grateful grin spread across his face.

“I knew you were cool, bro,” he said, walking over and picking me up in a hug that was just a bit too tight. “We’re gonna be best buds. Trust me you’ll get used to it in no time.”

“Mmmhh...” I muttered, my face sandwiched between his meaty pecs.

Then, just as I was starting to feel a little more grounded, that mischievous glint returned to his eyes. He put me down.

“Speaking of…”

He suddenly spun around, and before I could react, he let loose another fart in my direction one somehow louder and longer than the first. The force shook the dorm room like a subwoofer at full volume, vibrating the walls and floor and blowing back my hair.

Then the smell hit, even more terrible than before. The heat was like standing in front of an open oven.

Before I could even fully process what just happened, my vision started to blur.

This is gonna be a long semester, I thought to myself as everything faded to black.

(End of part 1)

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