Kneeling in the center of a modest single bedroom, between a messy bed and even messier desk, was Anya Melfissa. She was bound from neck to toe in a biting cage of intricately knotted rope that locked her wrists behind her back and ankles to one another like iron manacles. Two parallel lines of carefully placed rope snaked over and under the expanse of her chest, squashing and accentuating her generous rack. With little regard to her comfort, she was tipped backwards against a sturdy wooden chair and the back of her skull rested on the seat's insultingly thin leather cushion. All she could see was a pale white ceiling. All she could hear was the faintest rustle of summer wind beyond the two firmly shut windows.
“C'mon, c'mon...where are those idiots?” She wriggled uselessly against her restraints, more out of impatience than any genuine attempt to escape. It had been over thirty minutes since she was tied up and dumped here like a basket of laundry, and no one had shown up to explain what they were doing, ask if the restraints were too tight, or offer to turn on the damn A/C. August mid-day was bad enough without shutting off every modern convenience in the house. Just turning on a fan would be nice. Or at least cracking a window?
Beads of sweat trickled down her neck as a bubbly voice rang out from beyond her field of vision. “I'm going first, right? We agreed on this earlier!”
A chipper tone responded. “Mhmm, you can get your loss out of the way early.”
“Um...Ah...Let's just get started, okay? I-I don't know if...nghh...” Whined a third voice, her words peppered with various grunts and groans.
Were it not for the length of rope securing her neck in place, Anya could have looked down past her jiggling tits at the group of girls filing into the room. Ollie, Risu, and Reine were leading the way with Iofi a few paces behind.
“Geez, take your time guys.” Anya scoffed. ...Well, at least they can get this over with now. With the hour at hand, Anya tried to breathe the tension out of her body and ruminated on the events that brought her here in the first place.
It was an innocuous enough suggestion. Play a hotly anticipated FPS with some of her ID genmates over the weekend and choose a “punishment” for the loser. It had been a while since they all played together, so why not? Things were going pretty well until that play during the final match. She could still feel her hands slick with sweat fumbling a crucial shot that set off a series of events that eventually dumped her into last place. The audience went wild after witnessing the reversal of fortune and dozens of suggested punishments spammed the chat.
An embarrassing Twitter post!
Eating super spicy food!
Playing a scary game!
The tidal wave of suggestions rose and washed over Iofi, the winner, who payed them no mind. It was her sole privilege and immense pleasure to have the final say. Anya recalled with unwelcome clarity how Iofi had turned to her in the middle of breakfast the morning after the collab. With a coy smile and dangerous eyes, she had leaned in and flatly stated “I know exactly what we're going to do with you!”
Two weeks later, here they all were: packed into Iofi's sweltering bedroom. The owner now seated at her desk, chair spun around to face the main attraction. She produced a small stopwatch in her right hand and signaled for the other four girls to quiet down.
“Now that everything's set up, I can bring you up to speed, Anya.”
“Ah, finally. The anticipation was really getting to me. Is this one of those endurance challenges?”
Iofi twirled the stopwatch in hand. “Mmm, kinda. There were a lot of ideas to shift through but this seemed the most fun. And it's something the whole team can participate in!”
“Eh? Everyone? Are they gonna be strapped up like this too?”
“No, no, the other three girls are the contestants and you are the judge. I thought it'd be interesting for the 'punishment game' to be more of a 'competition'.” Iofi stood up and paced around her desk. Errant colored pencils and waxy sheets of drawing paper scattered on every step. “They'll be competing one at a time. Each of them will be given five minutes. In that time, they have to make you pass out. First one to do that wins! Simple, huh?”
Anya took a moment to process the last few sentences.
...seriously? That's a little intense for a punishment game, right? Is 'pass out' a euphemism or something? It was hard to know what was going on in that enigmatic alien girls head sometimes, but Anya didn't have the energy to press for more details. More than anything, she just wanted to get this over with.
“Ah, I see, I see. Amazing idea, Iofi. Can we get started now, my neck's killing me.”
“Of course, dear Anya-chan. But before that...” Iofi got up and crouched beside her, cryptically loosening the rope around her neck a bit. “...why don't you take a good look at the contestants?”
A small ball of tension appeared in Anya's stomach. Wait, what was that supposed to mean?
She had to be missing something. This challenge was just too weird. And why did it take two weeks for this contest to be set up? Surely strapping someone to a chair doesn't require that much prep time.
A sudden creeping stench invaded Anya's nostrils and her train of thought screeched to an emergency stop. With the newfound slack around her neck, she was able to slowly crane her head upward, heartbeat drumming in her ears, and drink in the sights Iofi had prepared for her. That small ball of tension burst into liquid panic.
The three ID idols standing before her were completely drenched in sweat. Rivers of salty perspiration ran down their necks, armpits, and thighs, giving a glossy sheen to every inch of exposed skin. It pooled in their cleavage, the underside of their socks, and the bottom of their panties. Their clothes were soaked through, wetly clinging to their curves like they'd just walked out of a tropical monsoon and turning lighter colored fabrics almost translucent. Splotches of layered discoloration emanated from their pits and crotches. Every time they fanned their skirts or tugged their collars, steamy clouds of musk filtered into the air and wrapped around their bodies like a localized sauna.
Iofi leaned down and brought her lips to Anya's ear. “You see what you're dealing with now, hmm? That's why I gave them two weeks to “prepare” for today's competition. They've been marinating in their own filth the whooole time, skipping even the most basic hygienic routines. Just passing them in the hallway made me light-headed, so I can't imagine what it's gonna be like mashed against them. But hey, at least we saved a ton on water and electricity this month! ” She ruffled Anya's hair and yanked the rope back to its original tightness. Maybe a little tighter.
“T-this is insane!” Anya shouted. “My friends would never do something like this! Did you blackmail them or something?”
Iofi glanced back with a mad grin on her face. “Oh please, they were more than happy to participate. You must be pretty dense if you haven't noticed how degenerate these girls are. All of them have wanted to use your smug face as a sweat rag for a while.” She locked eyes with Reine who flashed red and quickly looked to the ground. “Well...most of them anyway. But even our peafowl princess came around with a little peer pressure. Honestly, I think she liked living like a disgusting slob.”
“It's not, urp, like that!” Reine blurted out, failing to stifle a burp. “I, um, just didn't want to be left out...” Eyes still at her feet, she turned to Anya. “Sorry, Anya...but we'll try to make it quick.”
A cold blanket of shock overtook Anya, silencing any further retorts.
Now back at her desk, Iofi hovered her thumb over the stopwatch and called out to the first player. “You're up, Ollie!”
The zombie idol sprang forward, twirling in the air before landing a few inches from Anya's knees in an amateurish ballerina stance. Her debut outfit had been modified with a few extra feet stitched onto the hem so that it was long enough to drag against the ground. “Ku-Ku-Kurejii Ollie, desu!” She sang out, bringing up a peace sign and winking at an invisible audience. She looked down at Anya's terrified features and put her hands on her hips. “Don't worry Anya-chan, I've been working super hard for today so it'll be over in no time.” Ollie reached down and lifted the tattered dress to her stomach, flashing her supple undead thighs, slim tummy, and black panties. Trickles of sweat ran down her inner thighs in slimy strands and the stench was immense after being trapped under so many layers of clothing for so long, wafting off her crotch like an indoor heater. Anya's eyes and nose twitched in protest.
“It wasn't easy, but I went fourteen whole days without showering or changing my clothes. I even slept with 'em on, under big fluffy piles of blankets and comforters!” Ollie was beaming at her accomplishments and started swaying her hips from side to side, dislodging a smattering of salty droplets from her thighs onto Anya's lips.
Indeed, Ollie had approached the last two weeks with the same overabundance of energy as every other self-imposed challenge. Her sole focus was to smell as bad as possible, and there were multiple casualties to her surroundings in that pursuit. Every morning, she woke up feeling sticky and smelly, and there were unnerving squishy sounds whenever she sat down or put her shoes on. The plants in her room turned brown and withered away just from being in the presence of her stomach-turning body odor. By far the greatest casualty was her streaming chair, now almost unrecognizable after being utterly abused by Ollie's offensively pungent swamp-ass. Gone was the chair's original design, the fun bright pink material was now a slimy, grease-streaked pile of soggy leather and the imprint of Ollie's butt was more or less permanently molded into the seat.
And for the next five minutes, poor Anya was about to take its place.
Confident in her victory, Ollie turned on her heels and flipped the back of her dress high into the air, spritzing the chair with a spray of stale sweat and giving Anya the briefest glimpse of the zombie's light gray bubble butt before slamming it down on her face.
“Ahhn...” Ollie blushed and squirmed on her seat, unprepared for the sensation of Anya's mouth and nose frantically trying to suck oxygen through her sweat-soaked panties. Her ashen dress fluttered down soon after, engulfing Anya's head and most of the chair in an conical chamber before settling on the floor. All Anya could see and feel was humid darkness.
“Perfect! Okay, here we go.” Ollie scooted forward a bit in her seat and lined up her asshole with Anya's mouth. Seconds later, ominous rumbles vibrated through Ollie's stomach and down through Anya's skull. She could feel the wrinkles of Ollie's grimy asshole twitching and pushing up against her lips. “I've...mmh....been saving these for a while...” Ollie said between strenuous grunts. “M-make sure you keep your mouth open!” Anya eyes went wide as she buckled beneath her captor. Her breathing was now rapid and panicked, on the verge hyperventilation. Huh? No wait, she's not seriously gonna--! A blast of rancid, sputtering farts erupted into Anya's mouth, the revolting vapor instantly saturating every bit of empty space between her lips and under her tongue, puffing her cheeks out like she'd just taken a much too large gulp of water. Ollie moaned in relief, gripping the edges of her dress in clammy hands.
The smell, the taste was absolutely retched! Like death and rotten vegetables! Whatever odor had singed Anya's nose a few seconds earlier was incomparable to the heavy, mind-melting stench now simmering across every taste bud. For better and worse, the back of Anya's throat had reflexively slammed shut, keeping all of Ollie's release in a warm muggy pocket in her mouth. The foul odor swirled and baked inside, growing thicker and hotter up as more sloppy blasts were piled on from above. It was dense enough that Anya could feel it resisting whenever she moved her tongue! Small dots of tears pricked the edges of Anya's eyes as she got more and more familiar with the flavor of Ollie's backed-up bowels.
Eventually the strain was too much, and Anya reluctantly swallowed the dense cloud straight down her throat. She could feel its mass bulging against her esophagus the entire journey and it took a full three swallows to clear out. The repulsive mass now coated the entry to her digestive tract in a fine, cloying film and her biological instincts threw her stomach in a circle, hoping to retch it out.
Ghhhlrk! Try as she might, Anya couldn't rid herself of the gaseous poison. It was too thick, too pervasive. The best she could hope for was an occasional spillage from the sides of her lips when Ollie leaned a bit too far to either side.
For the zombie idol above, Anya's violent gagging registered as nothing more than pleasantly erotic vibrations. She watched Anya's full body spasm against the constraints with glee, the smaller girls muscles and tendons all activating at once in a frenzied bid to escape the foul odor pumping down her throat. Her fingers were outstretched and grasping the open air, feet twitching and flailing against the carpet hard enough to instantly turn pink with rug burn.
Ollie wrung her dress once again and bit her lower lip, feeling another bout of pressure moving down her lower intestine. “Ugh...ah, I almost feel, nghh, sorry about this one...” She leaned to the right and raised a sweaty cheek just barely off Anya's mouth before splashing her face with a flurry of especially wet farts, noisily spraying ass sweat against inside of her dress.
To Iofi's disappointment, the sounds were heavily muffled below Ollie's dress. All she could discern were a few wet squeaks and the low gurgle of Anya's screams.
“Phew...that...is SO much better!” Ollie wiped her slick forehead with the back of her hand and settled back into an upright position. Hands innocently in her lap, she started bouncing up and down which prompted a series of pained groans from her chair. A few more rancid farts squeaked out between bounces. “How is it down there?” She adjusted her cheeks to make sure Anya was still wedged firmly in her crack and looked down with pride at Anya's twitching torso.
My plan's working! Ollie thought with visible smugness. A quick sniff confirmed that the air in front of her, aside from her cloying body odor, was relatively clear! As expected, her outfit modifications made for a terribly effective dutch oven. Almost every speck of Ollie's putrid release of the past three minutes was still trapped snugly beneath her, unable to escape the dress's confines. She could feel the temperature rising sharply within the dress, fresh droplets of sweat beading and dripping off her undead hips and thighs like she spent an afternoon under a kotatsu. With nowhere else to go, the rank, humid atmosphere filtered in and out of Anya's stinging nostrils, constantly refreshing her with Ollie's brand and growing more potent with every new sputtering addition.
The other girls watched the rest of the ordeal intensely. Occasionally Ollie would perk up, then relax her shoulders and let her face fall into a satisfied, almost stupid smile, triggering intense flailing from below. Iofi reasoned these were silent, unbelievably raunchy farts that Ollie was slowly seeping into Anya's mouth. One's that had been fermenting in her gut the longest. This happened at least eight more times before Iofi clicked the watch.
“Aaand time! Good try out there, Ollie!”
“Huh? Aww, already?” Ollie sighed and lifted herself off Anya's face, gooey strands of saliva and ass sweat still connecting her greasy rim to Anya's lips. Shortly after dismounting, the zombie's dress fluttered across the seat, dispelling an almost visible smog of muggy ass stench throughout the rest of the room. Risu, Reine, and Iofi immediately ducked their noses into the crook of their elbows. Even from this far away, dissipated across the the entirety of Iofi's bedroom, the residuals of Ollie's gas hit like a bio weapon. It must have been hell under there.
Ollie turned around, big red ribbon bouncing with anticipation, to admire her work. A smoldering, musky crater outlined in a heart-shaped ring of sweat surrounded Anya's head. Both the leather cushion and the wood itself were heavily discolored, some of the material rotting and peeling upwards like wilting flowers. Hazy waves of musk-laced heat still radiated off the seat. Despite being more or less immune to her personal stink at this point, Ollie suppressed a dry heave and held her nose.
“Ahaha, sorry Anya, I guess I went overboard, huh?” Yet from the faint heaving of Anya's chest and irregular sputtering from her mouth, it was clear that Ollie had not gone “overboard” enough. Anya was still conscious, Ollie had lost, and the contest would go on. “Dang it!” She crossed her arms and stomped back to the rest of girls in a huff.
Meanwhile, Iofi was still trying to wave away the fumes as she reset the stopwatch. “Okay, n-next is...ack...Risu!” She called out between coughs. The smell was really taking its time to clear out.
Risu strode forward to take Ollie's place and gave her a playful bump on the shoulder on the way. “Thanks for warming her up for me, Ollie-chan!” Hiding under her confident smirk was Risu's silent relief that the contest hadn't ended after the first round. What a waste it would have been to not show off the vile fruits of her labors.
Upon reaching the center of the room, Risu shrugged her woolly pink sweater off her shoulders. It fell to the ground with a wet slap, and a sinister odor seeped from below her newly exposed arms. “Hey, Anya! Before I get started, let's make sure Ollie didn't do too much damage to those tiny lungs of yours. Can you take a deep breath out, then a deep breath in?”
Under these circumstances, it was an obvious trap. Especially with Risu's wide-eyed, leering face looming overhead. But Anya couldn't pass up an opportunity for uninhibited breathing after serving as Ollie's fart cushion for the past five minutes, and so she played along.
Hoooahh! Anya's burning lungs deflated, harshly expelling carbon dioxide and a good amount of Ollie's lingering gas back into the air. It was a divine feeling, her airflow finally not impeded by her friend's big fat ass. A few seconds later, just when she was about to breath back in, Risu's eyes glinted like an owl spotting a lone field mouse. In one smooth movement, she raised her right arm high and slapped her hairy, stinking pit over Anya's face. With her brain already screaming for oxygen, Anya had no choice but to viciously snort whatever air she could get through Risu's sweaty forest.
Shhhrrlk! Deluges of stinging liquid were pulled from Risu's wiry armpit hair and barreled up Anya's nose before splashing down her throat. She gagged and sputtered flecks of saliva against her tormentors underarm, much to Risu's delight. “Wow, I'm glad you're so excited, Anya! I was really looking forward to using you as a living sweat rag. Here, there's a lot of tricky places to clean, so let me help you.” Risu smeared her reeking pit in circles across Anya's face, making sure she could lap up all the flavor in every crease. She then bore down with more of her weight, really giving Anya the full tour of her body odor as her rank pit juice was massaged into her lips and gum line, practically flossing Anya's teeth with her underarm hair.
Considering how visceral Anya's reaction was, Risu knew her natural talent was doing its job. Risu had an inherit edge in pheromone production; an animalistic musk that was strong enough to turn heads seeped out of her pores every minute of the day. It was a full time job to keep it in check, requiring multiple showers per day and layers of deodorant just to smell presentable. There were times when, after using up the third deodorant stick of the month, she wondered “What would it be like to spend a day without all this hassle?”
Iofi's contest had given her that green light. Suddenly, her odor was something to cultivate, not suppress. It was freeing. A return to the natural world. No longer bound to her overbearing hygienic routines, there was so much more time in the day to game, read, stuff her face, laze about, and masturbate. Her stink thrived in this new world of filthy hedonism, but it wasn't enough. Not if she wanted to win.
So Risu started throwing hoodies, jackets, and winter coats over her idol outfit whenever she was off camera to increase its production. Instead of simply turning the A/C off, she turned the heat on and blasted it from sunrise to sundown. What a heavenly feeling it was to have liquid musk slathered over every inch of her armpits and beading on her unshaven pussy like morning dew. Everything she touched, sat on, or feel asleep with was permanently marked with her heady scent.
And with increased pheromone production came an increased libido. A primal desire that soon overrode the priority of every other activity. But in lieu of asshole-gaping dildos or vibrators, Risu pursued means of masturbation that didn't require removing any clothes. This way, every last emission would be captured and preserved for the big day. Bedposts, the arms of her chair, the edge of her desk; every surface in her room fell victim to Risu's musk-addled hour-long masturbation sessions. She humped whatever she could find like a bitch in heat, leaving them slimy and shiny in the aftermath. The PVC figure of Korone was a particular favorite of hers, lying it face up on the edge of her desk and crushing it into her sex with needy thrusts. How satisfying it was to lean back and see her favorite idol's frozen face smiling through layers of sweat and dripping with pussy juice. It was a wonder her panties didn't melt away after catching so many loads of sticky girl cum. Though for all it's benefits, even Risu had her limits and the situation below the belt occasionally became too uncomfortable to ignore. Thankfully, standard streaming layouts only needed her top half, so she could freely air out her stuffy crotch with hundreds of viewers none the wiser and blame any suspect noises on “mic issues”.
Meanwhile, back in Iofi's room, Risu removed her armpit and launched into phase two. “Thanks, Anya! I'm feeling really refreshed.” She stood up and flashed her sodden cotton panties that were barely covering her snatch. “Next is this!” Anya was just about to protest when Risu's plump, unwashed pussy came crashing down over her mouth. Though technically covered by a pair of sheer white panties, the material was thin enough for Anya's small lips to feel the oily, unkempt mat of Risu's wiry pubic hair. Not two seconds later, Anya's eyes were watering and she gagged hard enough to lurch her entire torso skyward. It smells so fucking bad! Ugh, how could anyone let themselves get this disgusting?! A dozen more insults were fired upon the squirrel girl riding her face, but remained completely unintelligible when muzzled against Risu's smelly folds.
Already tasting victory, a heavy blush lit up Risu's cheeks as she started grinding her cooch further into Anya's face. Small, high-pitched moans escaped her lips whenever Anya's cute button nose provided extra stimulation.
“Hahh...Mmn...thanks so much for offering to do my laundry with your tongue! I made sure to wear the same panties this whole time and they've been really stuffy after spending so many summer days inside!” Anya glared up from between Risu's sweaty thighs that were squeezing her head. An acrid, tangy flavor she didn't want to identify was sloshing over her tongue. “Oh...and I kinda stopped wiping after the third day, so you're gonna have to work extra hard to suck that part clean!” Anya groaned. Sure enough, the front of her panties carried an dark yellow tinge, proudly displaying their owners abysmal hygiene. Musk, pussy juice, and stale, week-old piss filtered into Anya's mouth, drowning her taste-buds in a sour lake of Risu's liquid filth. Any attempt to retch the foul substance away simply shot up her nose and back onto her face until it was smeared into her skin by the next hip thrust.
Risu continued for another three minutes, grabbing the tiny side-tails atop Anya's head and humping her friends face in earnest like a disposal sex toy. Risu's ministrations had given her a deep wedgie, her scrunched up panties now barely covering one-fourth of her sweat-streaked ass. This, coupled with her ruffled skirt flapping violently in a whirlwind of powerful hip thrusts, meant she was essentially mooning the three onlookers behind her with every reverse thrust.
“Nghh...Ahh...hurry up and pass out!” Risu was almost cross-eyed in maniacal lust, teeth clenched and panting heavily. How long did she need to fuck this stupid girl's face before she stopped breathing? Was her scent not strong enough? Were the pools of piss and girl cum not thick enough to clog her sinuses? Her movements reached a fever pitch, strong enough to rock the chair and shift Anya's body a few inches towards the far wall. Risu's pussy worked up a frothy wake of girl-juice and stinking urine on each pass, whipping liquid sex across the carpet like flicking a paint roller.
She was getting frustrated. Lust aside, Risu had a contest to win! “Come on, just give up already!” She gripped Anya's head like she was trying to crush her skull and then, pouring every ounce of strength into her lower body, ground her hairy crotch into Anya's face for the last time. “I've been holding this in since last night just for you, so don't you dare spill any!” Risu then relaxed her bladder and felt sweet relief tingle all the way down to her toes. “Mmm, ahhh...” A spout of steamy piss gushed against her sodden panties, easily filtering through the thin fabric and splashing onto Anya's face. It was a messy, powerful release, like the bottom of a gutter after a torrential downpour. Gripped in the blind panic of possibly drowning under her friend's smelly crotch, Anya writhed violently from side to side, hoping to get find the smallest pocket of air. But she was locked tight in Risu's inner thighs, her inhalations only sucking Risu's soiled panties deeper across her tongue. And with no room left in her tiny mouth, she was forced to swallow Risu's liquid waste, chugging it down in long, noisy gulps like a beer bong. No matter how much sloshed into her stomach, there was always another mouthful of piss straining against the insides of her cheeks. She couldn't keep up. There was now so much foamy urine in Anya's mouth that any cries for help would only uselessly gargle it from the back of her throat until it overflowed and spilled down her tear-streaked cheeks.
Just when the merciful fuzzy darkness of unconsciousness crept in to claim her, a voice pierced the air.
“T-Time!” Iofi shouted. As much fun as it was watching Risu use Anya like a standing urinal, rules were rules.
Risu came to reluctant halt, still with a death grip on Anya's skull and still largely out of breath. “Ehh? No way!” Risu grimaced and squirted out the last few drops on Anya's tongue before sliding off. The instant Risu's dripping snatch was removed, an amber geyser of backwash came surging out of Anya's mouth as she desperately cleared her airways, soaking the chair entirely. The choking and retching continued for a few more seconds as precious oxygen re-entered her blood stream.
Surrounded by steamy puddles of piss and shiny strings of girl cum, Anya caught her breath and pleaded. “P-please, I'm sorry! We can do some other kind of punishment game but I can't do this anymore! Just let me go!” Her harrowed eyes peeked through a tangle of glossy, piss-soaked bangs plastered wildly across her face.
Iofi was unmoved. “Hey, you'll be fine! You've made it this far and there's only one round left!” She cleared the stopwatch and leaned back in her chair. “Reine, are you ready to go?”
“Y-yes! Coming!” Reine stumbled forward with a deep red blush glowing from beneath her silver bobcut. She moved quickly and diligently, a delicate pace between and walk and a jog that wouldn't upset her uneasy stomach too much. Even so, every step was accentuated with bubbly, churning groans from her belly.
“Ungh...finally!” She stopped at Anya's knees and turned around, presenting the widest backside in ID. For the third time today, Anya found herself in the shadow of a fellow genmate and let out a pathetic whimper.
Reine's stupidly fat ass hung overhead. Two massive cheeks were stuffed into a pair of white pants tight enough to perfectly outline the deep crease formed where her heavy ass meat met the back of her thighs, and they wobbled slightly as Reine adjusted her footing. From a distance, it was hard to tell if they'd been painted on. Contrasting harshly with the surrounding white material was a nauseating dark gray canyon of sweat that traced the entirety of her taint and ass crack.
Reine doubled-over and grasped her stomach, clenching her powerful cheeks as a fresh layer of sweat flashed over her body. Much to her own discomfort, she'd been “preparing” for today in the same fashion as Ollie and Risu. No baths, no A/C, no laundry. A far cry from the regal lifestyle she was used to as a student of magic back in her academy days and a heavy blow to the sophisticated persona she'd tried to establish as a streamer. Bits and pieces of her elegant, lady-like demeanor snapped off and shattered around her like dry clay as the days of debauchery went on. She could feel sweat pooling deep in the slippery cleavage of her enormous tits. The stench of her pits was mind-numbing even without raising her arms. She had ripped an uncountable number of messy farts into her streaming chair, toggling the mute button more often than the left click of her mouse. The smell after an endurance stream was enough to make anyone walking past her door dizzy.
To make matters worse, her snacking habits had kicked into overdrive lately in a misguided attempt to raise her spirits in these hellish times. A volatile concoction of greasy take-out, salty chips, and spicy meat dishes ravaged her digestive track, brewing unfathomably pungent gas as well as enhancing her already bodacious measurements. Hundreds of extra calories funneled straight into her hefty J-cups, thick thighs, and obscene shelf of an ass. Every time she bent over, she could feel the seams of her pants strain against her breedable hips and another splash of gas soak into her underwear. All that ass sweat and moisture accumulating in her crack made it incredibly itchy, and she found herself subconsciously rubbing it against whatever she sat on.
In all her life, she'd never known such embarrassment and the last thing she wanted to do was parade this disgusting body in front of her friends...yet something had brought her here. Maybe it was just the need to fit in with her genmates, or some long forgotten competitive streak. Or maybe Iofi was right. It wasn't everyday Reine got a chance to indulge herself like this and there was some perverse satisfaction in letting her body sink into depravity.
Reine sighed and looked through the small gap between her thighs, locking eyes with the tiny quivering girl below her. Self-reflection would have to wait. She put her hands on her knees and whispered a barely audible “...sorry.”
Reine then dropped into a deep squat, smashing Anya's face into her sweat-soaked crack and instantly burying her in a warm, musky avalanche of fat peafowl ass. The chair creaked violently on impact and its legs bowed out from the sudden strain. Reine's backside was wide enough to completely smother all sights and sounds from the smaller girl, and spilled over the sides of her skull like heavy wax. For Anya, the weight was unbearable. Not that the previous users had been light, but between Reine's height, matronly assets, and recent snack-fueled weight gain, she had a body heavy enough to flatten watermelons.
An angry rumble sounded again from Reine's stomach. Anya sobbed weakly, mentally preparing for the onslaught.
Even knowing how much suffering she was about to put her friend through, Reine kept her mind on the prize. It's okay Reine, just pretend she's your streaming chair. She's...she's just furniture. She leaned forward and clenched both hands into fists. After a sharp grunt of exertion, Reine closed her eyes and blasted a vile, bassy fart into her chair. It went on for almost five seconds, loud enough to drown out every other bit of ambient noise in the room, before tapering off with an disconcertingly wet gurgle.
“Ahhh...” A relieved smile crossed Reine's lips. Despite the stabbing embarrassment of gassing out the room in front of her friends, it felt so good to finally get that out! Anya's wrists slammed against the chairs legs, yelling desperate pleas into Reine's doughy backside that were almost inaudible after traveling through so much ass fat. “S-sorry...there's a lot more...” Reine muttered while wringing her hands and another rancid blast trumpeted out from under her. It was higher pitched and shorter, but carrying the powerful nose-searing stench of her spicy, heavily-processed diet. Reine could feel the moisture and heat building around her asshole after every release. She grunted and groaned, unloading another warm batch of farts in an effort to knock Anya into a muggy coma.
It wasn't enough. The little knife girl was still squirming, still shouting underneath her. Reine sighed and stood up, clenching her titanic cheeks to make sure nothing was wasted. The copper buttons of her pants snapped open and, with great effort, Reine started yanking down her bottoms. It was an arduous process as the pitiful waistband struggled to stretch around Reine's dumptruck ass. Below, Anya was treated to a spectacular show of Reine's fat, creamy cheeks slowly coming into view from behind the curvy white wall of overstretched material. With every frantic pull, more and more of her plump flesh spilled out, bouncing and wobbling, shaking off shining beads of musky sweat like raindrops onto the chair below.
“Ah! There we go!” There wasn't enough time to completely disrobe, but Reine had successfully pulled her pants down to about knee-height. A tiny t-back, as flimsy and ornate as the top half of Reine's vest, sat teasingly over her plump sex, accosted on all sides by the soft, pudgy landscape of her stomach and thighs. From behind, Anya couldn't even see the thong that was so swallowed up by Reine's obscene ass meat. At least not until Reine reached back and pulled her doughy cheeks apart, exposing the taunt black string that just barely covered the darker tone of her musky, slightly hairy asshole. There was so much to grab that Reine's cobalt painted fingernails sunk completely into the each cheek. Every inch of skin was slick and dripping with weeks of built up sweat and grime that Reine had never bothered to wipe off. Warm steamy waves of pent-up musk hung heavy in the air, tinging Anya's skin like she'd brought her face too close to an open oven. Murky strands of slimy ass sweat bridged between Reine's cheeks, glinting in the overhead light before slowly drooping under their own weight and snapping apart. Reine moaned as the relatively cool air brushed across her backside, the very first bit of ventilation and the slightest bit of relief from the repulsive, sweltering swamp ass she'd been stewing in for weeks.
Reine looked back over shoulder, unable to see Anya behind the horizon of her backside.“Please, Anya, just give up already! This...this is really embarrassing, you know?”
The scene before Anya had shocked her into silence. She could could only stare with her mouth agape as her brain tried once more, with futility, to convince her this wasn't happening.
“F-fine then...” Reine's blush deepened as she squeezed her eyes shut and dropped her hips. In her nervous haste, she sat a bit too far forward and mashed Anya's nose flat against her greasy, thong-covered anus.
Hrrrgh?! Anya looked down in panic, almost cross-eyed, at the perfect seal that had just been made with her upturned nose, her nostrils already flaring in response to the fourteen days of accumulated farts stored in Reine's thong. It was a new level of hell. An abhorrent stench surpassing even Ollie's deathly emissions and Risu's pheromone-laden musk bath.
Try as she might, there was no way to breath through her mouth anymore since her lips were smashed firmly shut against Reine's sweaty taint. It seemed this was the end of the line. Iofi would have her champion and Anya would endure another humiliating defeat.
No...not this time. An inner fire suddenly shot through Anya's body. It's the last round...I can do this! Iofi had said it herself; there was only one round to go. One more person in her way. The finish line was in sight and the only revenge Anya could have, the only saving grace from this afternoon of utter debauchery, would be winning Iofi's twisted game. Anya steeled her resolve and focused in on the task before her. Whatever it took, she would not pass out here!
Like a sow at a feeding trough, Anya buried her nose deep inside Reine's musky rim and snorted against her fart-soaked thong with bestial fervor. The sudden messy cacophony of Anya's desperation shocked the entire room, especially Reine who was personally experiencing the indescribable sensation of her unwashed anus being sucked into the smaller girl's nostrils. Anya was driven, almost mad in her efforts, and huffed Reine's thong like she was trying to snort every speck of greasy residue and anal juice right off the fabric. Nngh, God it smells so bad, but I won't lose! The combination of foul flavors tossed Anya's stomach like a ragdoll and she could feel her bile churning, but she wasn't going to give in!
This last minute resistance plucked a particular nerve for Reine, and her embarrassment started to give way to irritation. “I-If you want to be that stubborn, then fine! I'll just have to...mmn...!” Reine straightened back up, brow furrowed and ground her ass even further into Anya's obstinate little face. From the loud grumbling, she could tell this was going to be a big one. With sweat pouring down her strained features, Reine clenched her teeth and unloaded a series of sloppy farts directly up Anya's nose, practically splashing out of her asshole with enough force to send tiny vibrations through the chair. Her heavy cheeks clapped together as the blast tore out, blowing Anya's fluffy bangs past her forehead in a musky slipstream. Tears were streaming down Anya's eyes, desperately gagging and retching as her nasal cavity brimmed with burning gas while her nose continued plugging Reine's asshole.
From the sidelines, Iofi's pupils were bouncing between all manner of erotic imagery. How Anya thrashed against her rope prison like a freshly caught fish, her tits smacking against Reine's inner thighs on every wriggle. How, despite sitting on another girls face, Reine's thong-clad ass was large enough to almost touch the seat cushion. How veritable streams of sticky, well-aged sweat poured down Reine's pits, over her generous hips, and down her thick cheeks, washing over Anya's face like a bucket of upturned water.
At this point Reine was using Anya like a common toilet. Any semblance of modesty or decency long forgotten as she mashed her sweaty asshole into Anya's nose.
A terse breath hissed from Reine's pursed lips as she felt her groaning stomach reach it's limit. Something in the back of her mind warned her the next release would be a gamble, but she didn't care anymore. All the adrenaline and dopamine were obscuring any rationale thought. Reine ground her hips into the chair, nearly swallowing Anya's nose within her grimy anus, and pushed as hard as she could. A loud, wet blast thundered out of her asshole that instantly breached Anya's nostrils and soaked the back of her throat in rancid, semi-liquid vapor. The seal was perfect, making sure not a single particle of putrid gas seeped out on the way from Reine's ass to Anya's sinuses. The sound wavered in pitch as her sweaty cheeks slapped haphazardly against one another, growing sloppier and louder the longer it drew on, forming small bubbles of fermented anal juice that danced along the seal of Anya's nostrils. Every last bit of discomfort in Reine's guts was being emptied into Anya, unloading wave after wave of farts thick and wet enough to drink down. Reine strained and writhed on her makeshift toilet, her eruption stopping just short of messing herself.
The smell exploded across Anya's olfactories like a fission bomb and overloaded her neurons into a festival of electric fireworks. In that one horrific moment, all of Anya's other senses vaporized to nothingness. Her only tether to this reality was the hyper-sensitivity of her burning nose so thoroughly drenched in Reine's foul stench that Anya was convinced she would never smell anything else. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she hacked a final spurt of saliva into Reine's dominating backside before fading into hazy darkness.
Then, silence. For the first time since she sat down, the only sound was the winded gasping of Reine. “Hahh, hahh...that felt so good.” She reached down and grabbed the only thing in a one foot radius not soaked in sweat, the ends of Anya's hair, to wipe her face. “Ah, hold on...” As one last humiliation, she massaged her pudgy belly to push out the lingering dregs of intestinal discomfort. A low, droning hum sounded from deep between her damp cheeks, vibrating them softly and prompting a final twitch from Anya's hands before they slumped motionless against the restraints.
Iofi's clammy hand was frozen over the stopwatch, it's timer ticking carelessly past the five minute mark. Beet red in an instant, Reine realized what she'd just done and jumped to her feet, stumbling over her pants in an awkward half-jump. “Oh, ah, um, I'm so sorry, Anya! A-Are you okay? ...Anya?!”
Three weeks later things had more or less returned to normal (aside from Anya giving Iofi the coldest of shoulders whenever they crossed paths). Anya's nose was stinging with the persisting effects of Reine's rancid fumes and she could still smell her if she took too deep a breath, but it was over now and she could return to her usual schedule.
Understandably, that experience had a way of sticking with her and it was a long time before Anya agreed to another collab.