There’s a knock at your door.
You open it and there stands an unrecognizable young man who looks at you as if he believes he knows you well.
“Rosemary?”
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I’m sorry, I should have said, Goddess.”
You smile slyly, “Interesting dear, tell me, where do I know you from?”
“Goddess I am your favorite writer.”
“Of course you are toilet, I just wanted you to say it. Now what are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Goddess, I didn’t mean to intrude I just…I just couldn’t bear the confusion anymore; I had to know about this fetish.”
“Did I not tell you to seek out a professional domme dear?”
“Yuh..yes, yes you did, but, it seemed silly when I know the best domme in the world who gets an incredible amount of enjoyment in using young toilets like me.”
“Mmmmm, this is true; you are making me a little excited toilet but I fear you won’t be able to take it and what will I do without my favorite writer?”
“I beg of you, don’t worry I can take it.”
“I don’t know sweetie, you’ve mentioned hesitance in the past and once I get started there is no stopping me; I could demolish you in a few seconds and not even make a dent in my booty contents.”
“Goddess, this is a mutual arrangement we can work out here; surely this can only make my writing better and I will remain here, for you to use always and write on demand; describing the smells, the taste, the feel of humiliation filling my soul.”
“Why do you want this dear? Why do you want to give your life to me?”
“Because I have little hope of doing something more important than serving you; at least I can know I’ve brought pleasure to one, especially one as important and…well sexy as you Goddess.”
The Goddess’ stomach rumbles; she stares at me, perhaps through me, in thought.
“Toilet, I am going to fart; you must press your head against my magnificent booty and hold it there until I am satisfied; then I will consider taking you on as my toilet.”
She turns her comfy pj-ed bottoms towards me, they appeared to be near bursting under the enormous size of her butt. You stick your head against her cheeks, your nose just slightly inside her crack, getting a subtle hint of potent, strong gas hanging around from past blowouts. Then, like a windstorm, she hits me with a twenty second explosion of loud, noxious gas.
My head begs for relief but I hold fast to realize my purpose and fulfill it. She farts again, shorter but far more killer in stench as your eyes water. A subtle giggling is heard from the Goddess as she watches your head dart from side to side but you hold your face fast within her cheeks; she is pleased.
“Okay, toilet; how did it smell?”
You recoil in relief and take deep gasps at the air around your head; kids that had stopped on the sidewalk to figure out what had happened now dart away as the Goddess glances at them, evilly.
“Terrible Goddess! Wretched.”
“Good word toilet but that’s insufficient,” she got down low, meeting me face to face and whispers, “Describe it.”
Fear sets in as my body involuntarily shudders, “It’s, uh…thick, deep, far reaching; a strong prominent smell of rancid cheese and beans; perhaps fermented chili dog relieving itself from your magnificently round, firm, unmarred ass.”
The Goddess grabs me by the neck, subtly pulling me into her dark home. “Use booty dear; I like it much better.”
She closes the door behind him.