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“Suicide Goddess”

The Goddess, switches on the light, closing her front door behind her. She’s a little startled when she sees a scrawny, naked young man on her floor; his penis tiny and his balls bulbous, dying for popping.

The Goddess smiles just a bit, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“I knew you would’t recognize me; it is I, Goddess; your most loyal and skilled writer.”

“Ah, well, this is a surprise; now what are you doing here?” The Goddess asks, a little irked.

“Goddess, I’ve done all you’ve asked, when you’ve asked. Please do me one favor?”

“What is it?”

“Kill me…with your booty.”

“What?! Don’t be absurd; I thought we discussed this.”

“I know Goddess but, I have nothing; without you, I am nothing. I’ve done nothing special with my life so, at the very least, going out, providing you pleasure; at least I’ll be somebody, to someone; especially someone as important as you. If I can’t have you, at least let me go out, by you.”

“Toilet…I…this;” the Goddess begins; she grabs my head and shoves it against her mighty booty. It rumbles as it blasts a giant, putrid fart.

I moan, paniked as I feel the air continually pour out her divine anus; it doesn’t stop by the time I feel unconsciousness take me.

I drop to the floor.

The Goddess takes a moment, sits on my body, to think.
I wake sometime later; the room is concrete all around.

“Toilet, I’m disappointed in you; you give up. I thought you were better than these other disposable toilets I toss around but no…” the Goddess emerged from the shadows; stark naked save for her long, black boots.

It was a heel to my groin I felt first; she giggled watching me writhe in pain.

“…You’re just as pathetic as any of them,” the Goddess says, swinger her massive booty over to my face. Inches away from it, it rumbles loudly; shakes violently, like a poorly aligned blender.

Immediately, the Goddess envelopes my head; my mouth makes a precession and deep connection to her anus as she wastes no time in dumping thick, long log after log down my throat until it can take no more and logs spill out over the sides; quickly filling my face with their putrid stink and unmmanagable girth as I choked down the foul waste.

The Goddess giggled evilly as sludge launched out the sides of the logs and blasted like a hydrant against my face with such force.

I felt myself, choking; sputtering on liquid shit and solid dumps down my throat, and even more piled high over my face; suffocating me deep, deep within the Goddess’ supreme waste.

She released me; I, a lightweight, was knocked out again. My body feel lifelessly and shit-filled to the floor.

Unconscious, piled high with logs and sludge; as I breathed I created audible bubbles that popped around my face. The Goddess watched me, in my slumber, react to the popping, stink filled bubbles with a wrinkling of my nose. She laughed. She leaned down, kissed the only dry spot on my forehead and walked to the door.

She switched off the light, “Silly toilet.” She walked out; locking the chamber door behind her. “I guess I have you now,” she giggled.

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“Goddess of Holland”

The plane begin to ascend; the female pilot, giving the Goddess a thumbs up from the cockpit as the Goddess hung her massive booty out the plane doors.

At about two hundred feet; the Goddess’ belly churned and rumbled loudly, she may have overdone it. Like unstoppable wildfire, the Goddess booty opens to car tunnel size and unleashes a hellish, drippy, putrid fury all over the green of Holland. The shit storm overshadowed homes and waves of the Goddess’ divine fluid ran through streets, down neighborhoods; commerce centers were literally washed away under the dam break like force of the Goddess’ unloading.

“Ooops,” she declared, giggling to herself. She clutched the door in pain; “Oh God…”

An ocean of thick, almost black sludge pours from the Goddess’ beautiful booty; the level of shit increases to a steady five feet; children drown in sludge, most adults are struggling to stay aloft; some clinging to humongous, tree-sized logs only to pass out onto of them from their noxious, persisting odor.

The Goddess, closes the door behind her. The toilets on the tiny plane look on in great fear, having watched oceansful of waste exit the plane from this one woman’s powerful behind.

She smiles cruelly and takes her seat, “Toilet, I’d like you to write about this; got it?!”

“Yuhh…yes, yes, Goddess.” I reply, frightened; having seen what transpired on a webcam from the Goddess computer.

She bends her fine, magnifient, naked booty to the camera and farts for twenty seconds straight; giggling intermittently I hear moans and screams of protests from the other passengers.

Suddenly, I clasp my own face in disgust. The smell had permeated through the internet and made it to my home. Oh God! No!!

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“Boss Goddess”

I sat at my desk and contemplated the world’s problems when the buzzer sounded loudly; the intercom.

It was the Goddess, “I need you here, immediately; come see me.”

“Okay,” I replied.

I head to the Goddess’ office and knock.

“Come in,” she says.

I open the door to a rather large, spacious office; the Goddess is sitting with smug smile on her face near the other end of the room. She watched me intently, as if calculating my value in dollars and it was changing by the second.

The Goddess wore long, silke white opera gloves; she removed her Gucci sunglasses to show her deep, piecing green eyes. She work a black business blouse that hung tightly on her shapely frame and a low cut top that showed just enough to be boss you’d get fired just to fuck. Her hair tied up in a tight bun.

Her legs, formerly crossed, now drop to the ground; she walked to the front of her desk, revealing her tan miniskirt and her long black boots with four inch heels.

Her face is stern, with a slight smirk on her plump, red lips. “Sit down,” she commands politely. She motions to the chair in front of her desk. “Timmy, do you know why I called you in here?”

“No Goddess,” I said; I really didn’t.

“Heres the deal. You’re performance sucks; to be frank. I can fire you right here and now, no pay, no benefits, no pension Or you can work for me, personally.”

“Oh, I need this job Goddess,” I was somewhat excited about her offer; it seemed very Penthousy, I went along with it. “What would I be doing for you? Am I qualified?”

She smirks, “Oh, you’re finely qualified, no worries there.” She pats my shoulder reassuringly. “That’s a good choice sweetie; for me anyways.”

The Goddess stands and struts her beautiful booty towards me; she lowers her fine face an inch away from mine and whispers sadistically “You’re going to be my toilet, toilet.” She giggles cutely, then her booty rumbles loudly.

“Go to my bathroom,” she says sternly, pointing her gloved finger at a private bathroom in her office.

“What do you mean?! WHAT does that even mean?! You can’t be serious, you can’t do this!” She nudges m in that direction, rubbing her booty against my face aggressively. I recoil in terror, smacking it.

“I really don’t have time for this toilet,” she says; she bends her knees a little and rips a giant, putrid fart in my face; it robs me of breath as I choke and cough on the noxious gas.

“Now move toilet!” The Goddess demands.

I move to the bathroom; “Now put your face where it belongs.”

I plead, claw, and beg. She responds with a light squeezing of my balls with her long boot heels. “Your face in the toilet now!”

My balls shrivel under the pressure of her booty; my head backs up, obediently to the toilet but I plead all the way for this to end.

“Please, I’ll do anything else; not this. I’ll sell more! I have leads, please, give me another chance. Please! No no!”

Her eyes piercing my soul; she raises her skirt and looks over her shoulder. “There is something you can do toilet”

I look up in hopeful desperation.

She smiles, “Open wide, this load is gonna be huge!”
Her booty rumbles as it descends to my face; sealing the toilet bowl. My head hits the water; her booty splits and her hole begins to winden. Gas escapes profusely and openly; filling the tiny bowl with the foulest stench on Earth.

I gag on the noxious fumes that blast through my face; squeezing past a giant, visible log that slowly chugs along though the Goddess’ anus. Her cries are nearly euphoric as the monster log pushes with just a little effort and, at terrible last, made contact with my face as my head submerged beneath the toilet-fart water.

It fired out like a log at a lumber mill unstoppable as the pressed and pounded against my face with unbreakable force. My mouth quickly filled with gooey sludgey shit. The massive log, now coiling around the bowl soaked all the water making it a soft mass of shitty proportions.

I screamed, it echoed deafeningly in the bowl. Airtight. I was choking.

“Whoops, guess my booty really has to unload.” She says cutely as she pushes and grunts. Her hole widens and a large gush of brown spray explodes in my face.

I panicked as the diarrhea rained down upon me with the force of a fire sprinkler. The contents slowly drip out around my face and join the sludge log that fills the toilet. Shit drips through my sealed lips, hitting my tongue with its terrible sour taste; I swallow it painfully; a moan and sob as it hits my stomach, I feel ill.

There’s a knock on the door, “Goddess, it’s me Bridgett.”

The Goddess sighs in great relief, “Yes hon, what do you need?”

I shake and caw, splashing around in shit-filled water. You’re amused as you bring a stiff, hard boot heel to my balls again; I squeal inaudibly. My balls shrivel like punished dogs; you scrape your heel painfully forward on my ballsac; it’s pain and pleasure of an indescribable proportion. A fart rings out and breaks me from the spell.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to tell you about current projections on one of our subsidies; they are vastly lower than their year-end estimates, I’m wondering what can be done.”

“Unfortunately, at this point…erh…” the Goddess says, as another log beings to drop and inject my face with new, fresh logs; each bubbling with vibrant gassy pockets that repeatedly barraged me as I hung my head, severely weak and beaten, lying on my liquidly shit pillow. “…yeah, so that’s fine.”

“Okay, I’ll draw up the paperwork.”

“That you dear,” The Goddess says, farting loudly, it echoing endlessly in the bowl. I moaned as the gas seeped it’s way into my shit fort.

“Also, I noticed Timmy isn’t at his desk…”

The Goddess laughs, “Yes, I…gave him an alternate assignment; I think it’s going to work out so you may not see him for some time. Perhaps the Christmas party.”

Bridget walks off to her duties.

The Goddess sighs in great, exasperating relief. She lifts her booty from my face and watches my pained, weakened head emerge from the shit piles of her creation.

She bends over, her booty opens widely and releases a long, refreshing shart all over my face. I recoil, over-odored; my head falls back into the toilet.

The Goddess recomposes her panties and skirt, “Now toilet, report back to me immediately after my meeting, got it? I think they are serving burritos.”

The Goddess struts away leaving me to grieve for my death; the death of my self. I lived for the Goddess now.

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“Impossible to Overshadow”

“So Hare-Bear,” the Goddess asks, chuckling. “Why are you so fucking ugly?”

She smiles then spins to her backside, shaking her profound booty at my face before lowering her skirted booty onto my face.


The Goddess farts profoundly, deeply, strongly, a potent, ungodly gas that chokes me; I sputter and fight for oxygen by the Goddess holds my face deep within her booty and refuses to let go.

“Well,” she asks, releasing my head.

Out of breath, I reply, “So as to not overshadow you Goddess.” I crumble into the corner, recoil there.

The Goddess smiles, looking at me, cornered as she approaches; idiot, she thinks. “Oh please, as if you could.” She scoffs.

She looks back and wiggles her booty side to side; my head casually darting with it.


The Goddess is overjoyed, “So hun, can you guess what I ate today,” she blows even more gas in my face, perhaps providing an adequate sample. It was surely generous and heaping if measured.

My eyes tear up and wince at the attricious, eggy smell; I gasp and sputter out, “Omlette?!”

The Goddess tosses her blonde hair, annoyed; she bends over and releases a torrent storm of gassy emissions; at least ten farts, most longer than five seconds. Perhaps it was my punishment for being incorrect.

Panicked and choking, I screamed, “Burrutios!”

“Ooooh, very good,” the Goddess replies, giddy. “How’d you guess that, my little ass filter?” She farts again, loudly, deeply.

“With you glory Goddess.”

She farts again, loudly like a jackhammer with a chainsaw; “What was that sweetie,” she asks cutely.

“You!” I scream out desperately; “Because of you, your greatness Goddess!” I’m crying, pleading the answer. “Please, no more!”

The Goddess’ eyes pierce my soul as her long heels do the same to my tender balls, “Don’t raise your voice to me shitface!” She’s enraged.

She releases my face, quickly raises her skirt. My eyes go wide; her smile follows suit.

“Uh oh, shit face, guess what?” She says, sitting her bare booty on my face; you can hear the sadistic pleasure in her voice.

“No…no, no no, please!”

The Goddess releases a long gassy blast, practically paralyzing my face; her heel digs deeper into my balls. “What did you say to me!?” She groans as her hole expands.

I shake my head, one final ditch effort at freedom; it’s futile as the log quickly hits then strongly presses against my face; pushing it away had it not been held fast by the Great Goddess.

Down my mouth the mighty, large log snakes; it hits my stomach, filling my body with a certain feeling of poison and sickness.

I gurgle and yell for it to end; for it to stop but it’s useless.

The first log gone, another juts out; then retreats, then juts more; retreats again; it’s a horrifying game until, like a missile it launches and plasters itself deep within my upturned nose; the pain is felt deep within my brain; shit likely having making it’s way deep in there.

Like a chain, smelly log after drippy log came pouring seemingly easily out of the Goddess’ beautiful booty and I choked them down without choice; my face quickly filled with the Goddess’ most perfect and profound dumps. For all of which, I should be most thankful.

Finally, the Goddess stands, releasing my head; I am weak, near to tipping to the floor. The Goddess bends over a full 45 degrees and sharts for a full thirty seconds, cleaning herself in the process; my body sliding and banging against the wall from the force. The Goddess giggled at the sight; continuing to unload.

She turns, and looks at my pathetic, shit composed body. I pathetically wipe my face with a nearby tissue.

The Goddess, brings her face close to mine; she inhales just slightly. She’s gorgeous, even after all this.

She reels back, in a split second she sneezes a lake full of snot and phlegm all over my face. My face drips with her green, gooey slime; combined with her dark, brown shits; I was her toilet.

I watched her jiggle her booty in my face once more; a drying but relatively odorless gas puffed my face. She strutted away.

I looked down at my pants; boner large as ever. “Fuck!” I pound the ground and then smile at her; she doesn’t look back and the door locks.


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“Mother Goddess”

I’d been in my room, playing on the floor when the Goddess stormed in.

“Mom!” I scurried back in astonishment; her storming meant I was in trouble.

“It’s Mother you little brat!” She said angrily. Then a smile quickly filled her beautiful face, “But why don’t you get used to calling me Goddess sweetie.”

“No… please.”

“Sylvia said you have this coming; why would she say that?”

“Because she hates me mo…Mother.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the Goddess says, sensually walking to her son; the fear in his eyes so evident. It excited her. “She’s your sister, she…loves you.”

The delay was a bit of a push; as her magnificent booty crossed my face, a flapping, squeaking, forceful gust blew back my hair and I immediately choked on the beany gas that assaulted my nose and clung like it clawed it’s way into my skin.

“I’m positive she only wants the best for you,” the Goddess says, grabbing my arm and dragging me, coughing and gagging to the bathroom.

The Goddess’ stomach rumbled so loudly, it was inhuman.

She looked sadistic as she positioned my head in the toilet; she clutched her stomach.

I was spared not even another glance as she rushed to place her big, naked booty on my face, it slipped deep within her profound crack.

Immediately, I was assaulted by a deep, penetrating, flappy, wet fart directly in my face. I trashed and fought as Mother giggled; then pushed.

Suddenly, I stopped, my body froze as a gargantuan, ten foot wide shit came plowing out of my Mother’s backside. Like a spear it force it’s way into my mouth, nearly dislocating my jaw; it filled my stomach and quickly overflowed my face with it’s juicy, drippy solid waste.

The Goddess floated on a pile of dumps as I kicked and trashed, buried deep within a smelly prison of old tacos, cheap burritos and undercooked beaned.

A strong, penetrating fart ripped through the sludge and filled my senses with a fresh, hot hell.

The Goddess, uncharacteristically laughed out loud, as she watched my feet stiffen then kick frantically under a hundred pound pile of shit.

With a very satisfied sigh, the Goddess stands and struts, unseen by her buried son, and switches off the light.

He, unfortunately, clearly hears her say, “Clean up fast shit face because my booty is still backed up. Shouldn’t take more than, three minutes, right? I’ll go make some bean quesadillas.”

I gag, gargle, and swallow shit of every variety; each lap is worse than the last; somehow each log more potent than the last; each spray darker, smellier, and more putrid.

My mouth is tired, exhausted; with a giant log in my mouth, I pass out.

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The more I persist, the more I think on it, I have reached the feeling that I am merely drained of it.

Think about it, at a certain point, where do you go? Every combination, every possible smell, victim, ass assailant  it’s all been done and said before.

You can change the words and descriptions to infinite combinations but the content is limited in scope. The important aspect is the release and torture (or adoration) that follows; you can fluff it with all the story you want but it doesn’t really change the fact that an Aggressor is farting on a Victimat some distance, which is then offensive to the Victim’s olfactory senses.

You can exchange the underlined words for other words such as poopingexciting, and esophagusItalicized words could be replaced with Lover and Willing Participant.

The farter is fat, the farter is sexy hot; she likes farting, she’s hesitant, she’s sadistic. These are minor detail changes but the core; it’s all just the same story, retold over and over again.

A psychologist perhaps explained it to be best when asked about writing facesitting eroticism; he asked what is there after she sat on his face. Little did he know about the farts and shit that come out but, at the end of the day, the analysis seems correct.

I presume vanilla porn has the equal brick wall of bordom; perhaps only for those who have this mindset beyond or ‘above’ release. But even then, I don’t know what that is; I just assume it’s superior, perhaps it’s highly inferior; a relic.

Perhaps this dying hunger to be dominate is, subconsciously, at the helm; driving the desire into self-destruction if it is further suppressed from reality cum realization.

Perhaps it is just me who thinks the core is dried out; even if just by myself for myself. I’ve written many stories, perhaps the core is over-mined for me. I don’t know.

Maybe my life has drifted away from this; if not, I feel this is the crossroads. At one side stands a relatively asexual normalcy; at the other, a fear yet burning desire to fulfill something that my paranoia would not allow. I do not believe, when beginning one’s life, one can merely stick their face deep in a woman’s ass, be forcibly held to sniff a powerful, potent gassing, and then go about a life of normalcy.

Perhaps following through would kill this desire; even that change is scary. And even that, involves overcoming the paranoia of someone knowing.

What must be done?

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The Depreciation of Content

The main issue with producing (that is to say: writing, drawing, recording, etc.) content for this realm is that it depreciates in value very quickly. I’m not talking about a monetary value for which most are worthless/priceless; the exception being most video producers and some visual and traditional artists that take commissions.

It seems like those who like ‘regular,’ dick-into-vagina or -ass, porn aren’t particularly picky about it; it seems to just kind of be about the motions. I don’t quite understand it myself but there’s no denying ‘normal’ people’s attraction to it.

For fetish content, because it’s a whole package; the dialog (insults), the sounds, the prospective smells, the reaction of the victim, or willing participant, I guess, who you assume the position of. In my case, the victim, acting as if I’m dying under her; yelling how wrong this is for her to do but she pays little mind (I know she can’t hear me). All of these factors, come together and makes the, in this case, video, get dull very quickly.

You simply get tired of being that guy, pretending to breath in those farts, that sound exactly like that, with her saying the same thing. In some ways, it would be like that movie Groundhogs Day. What doesn’t make sense is why this isn’t true of vanilla porn but perhaps it’s merely the far vaster propensity of it all. Many more people are creating content or just simply filming (and sharing) themselves having vanilla sex.

It seems like porn would be greatly hurt by piracy but perhaps even they are beaten out by people who just ‘give it away.’ I don’t know anything about the porn business; ‘people’ say it’s lucrative. I’ve heard nothing else really.

Fart video producers seem very damaged by piracy and there’s far more content on lockdown then there is available free in comparison to vanilla porn. But don’t get me wrong, what fart content is available for free is also plentiful; the ratio is merely tilted in monetary’s favor.

I guess this can be no better than a rant; I realize this only after deciding I could not wrap this up with a point or goal. It’s really merely an observation of the differences; a comment on how quickly our content fades. But then, this is pornography, who expected to mean anything? And fetish pornography? It’s foolish to even dream.

Only now do I realize, yes, indeed, what I write looses it’s luster. For me, my stories are no longer exciting after their completion. Going back, perhaps even waiting years to open up and look at a story again; that might re-ignite the flame but it’s a dull burn that will die out quickly.

Some of my favorite stories, from some of my favorite writers, even they are no longer what they used to be to me. It saddens me, perhaps this problem is only mine; perhaps merely I am some horny, insatiable beast, always seeking more. I didn’t think so.

Perhaps repression of this from the public can do that.


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I spend much of my time, waiting.

I don’t always understand it.

It used to be always anxiety, fear.

Now there is, anticipation?

How is it that, this that I abhor.

Suddenly, I adore?


What has she done?

How can this be?

My soul is filled now, with gas?

My heart excited, by you ass?

How have you turned one to your ways?

How have I been beaten without a war?


I hear her, steps down the hall.

The click of a lock and I whimper, eagerly

Like a dog. Her smile wide, my tongue extended.


Her butt came close, its odor unmistakable.

Then she farted, its thickness unbreakable.


I noted that before, I had tried to run.

Now, I inhale; as if this were fun.

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“I am the toilet”

I see little from my little hovel. I know little of the outside world. I’ve known this hole for as long as I’ve lived but I know not how much longer I’ll live.

Here it is, it’s happening again. A bright light, creamy skin, round, perfect orbs then darkness.

A ripper from above, the putrid smell drifts down and chokes me. Laughs from above as gas blasts once again.

I call for help but it’s just inhuman mumbles; I know not how to speak.

The first splash of creamy dumps startles me as it coats and seeps into my skin; the warm diarrhea baking on me like batter.

Then, a loud squelch fires out a flood of shit, contented sighs of relief as my mouth gargles chunky shit, spitting out what I can like a doomed vessel bailing endlessly as the ocean pours in.

I only catch a glimpse  buried under thick, sticky shit; the woman above, wide, relived smile on her face winks right at me and darkness reigns again, and shit.

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Writing for a Goddess

Most of you should or may know that, from time to time, especially during my heavy scat ‘phase,’ I wrote a lot about a Goddess named Rosemary.

This is a real Goddess I speak to regularly and like any good toy, I attempt to please her by regaling her of tales of her travels.

It’s interesting writing for a Goddess; demands are not to be taken lightly and when you’re new, sometimes the timetable for assignments are fierce  But, you get it done; you finish your work and present it with a pathetic smile to the glory and power that is the Supreme Goddess. I am a lucky slave indeed to be in her roster.

It is no simple task. Taking on the needs of a Goddess will forever change your thoughts; alter your thinking of what’s importance. You find the yourself you once knew quickly, rapidly fading away; absorbed into the greatness of the Goddess. So in some small, insignificant, and whiny way you can say you exist as part of that greatness but you must understand that you merely exist as a simple bolt. You hold up the Goddess, you uplift her on your puny shoulders and hold her for all the world to applaud and adore; but your important role is insignificant and highly replaceable. Any brainless peon can do what you do.

You simply have the luck of the draw to pretend to be important, simply by being near an awesome greatness that is the Goddess Rosemary.

Read a few of my favorite Goddess stories:






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