By: WhatIsYourDesire666
"F"
The scarlet letter, encircled in ink and positioned at the top of Morgan's control sheet, seemed to mock her. The result of her latest math assignment... a synonym for an additional one due tomorrow. She held the paper in both hands before her, head resting on her school desk, sighing.
"It'll take me at least 2 hours" she thought. Her only solace was the bell that signaled the end of classes. Morgan picked up her bag and walked past her math teacher who wished her a good rest of the day. In response, she offered only a grimacing smile. The situation didn't inspire her to reciprocate the kindness. Plus, the taco from lunch wasn't sitting well, and she had stomach pains all afternoon. But it was a necessary evil. She headed straight home. At least one good piece of news awaited her there... Her slave. And she had planned something truly special for him tonight.
The day before, an odd dream had brightened Morgan's day, and she had spent most of the time tormenting her boyfriend: attached to her buttocks, he had spent the afternoon trying not to suffocate while she napped. It was entertaining, but Morgan knew it wasn't enough to win this strange tournament. "Show your cruelest side," the angel had said... And that's exactly what she intended to do tonight.
Long before this dream, Morgan had already thought of a way to spice up her "couple" life. She'd found something that initially repelled her, but the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it was the logical next step for asserting her total dominance.
She had the house to herself tonight: her parents were on vacation for several weeks, and her whale of a sister Abby was out at a bar. Probably traumatizing another soul... But whatever, it wasn't Morgan's problem. She remembered seeing Abby yesterday, who seemed unusually cheerful... odd. No matter; an angel had given her a mission, and it certainly didn't concern her sister. This thought lifted her spirits as she climbed the stairs to her room. She threw open the door, hoping to startle her captive with a fright: "I'm back, slave!"
No one.
There was no one in her room. Where on earth had that worm hidden himself? Morgan frowned in frustration. Another stomach cramp wrenched her face into a grimace, and she rubbed her belly with one hand. That taco really wasn't the best idea. A dull thud caught her attention, drawing her gaze towards her wardrobe. A dark smile played on her lips as she approached the furniture. Opening the doors with both hands, her eyes fell upon her bound and gagged slave. How could she have forgotten? Knowing she was going to have a bad day, Morgan had decided that her slave should suffer too (logical). Eight hours tied up in the wardrobe, gagged with one of her dirty panties would do just fine. And there he was, savoring the last remnants of her underwear (she'd had to choose a particularly filthy one for it to last all day) in the darkness. Perfect.
"Slave, break's over," she announced, pulling him out of the wardrobe. "You have no idea what an awful day I've had while you were lounging around." The boy offered only a weak protest, exhausted from hours of suffering. His joints ached from lack of movement, his eyes stung with the change in light, and his mouth was dry. The only liquid he'd ingested was that contained within Morgan's panties... And he preferred not to think about it...
Dragging him across her bedroom floor, Morgan continued, "Tonight: special program. We're going to push boundaries and try something new. You're gonna love it... Or not, actually... Stay there while I grab the gear." She left him in the middle of the room and returned to the wardrobe. The young man turned to see what she was plotting... And widened his eyes when he saw what Morgan had retrieved.
The crate.
Morgan arrived with the large wooden box. Her slave tried his luck: using his last ounce of strength, he attempted a swift escape towards the door. Unfortunately, his bonds held him back, and Morgan jumped on him with all her weight to stop him.
The tied-up boy let go a "Ouuummffff" when Morgan's weight crushed him to the ground.
"Where do you think you're going, dog?" she asked in a dark voice. "You haven't even seen the latest improvement I've made to your favorite den." Risking a glance over his shoulder, the boy noticed a change: a hole had been drilled into the lid of the box. Probably for air circulation. He sighed in relief. At least this time he wouldn't suffocate in this evil box. But Morgan's smirking smile didn't bode well... Still, maybe she was starting to change and had a heart.
"Come on, get inside already, I can't hold any longer," the goth girl ordered.
What was she talking about?
Without waiting any further, Morgan picked him up, pushed him into the box and immediately closed the lid. He landed heavily with his hands bound, nothing to soften the fall. He barely had time to regain his balance before Morgan slammed the lid shut. He managed to sit up and noticed that indeed, the hole on top allowed light (and air) to pass through. He could see the ceiling and Morgan's head looking down at him with a smirk. She didn't seem concerned about his (relative) comfort and turned around. Her enormous behind filled more and more of his field of vision as she lowered herself. The light grew weaker... before going out completely.
Morgan adjusted her position, ensuring that her ass was protruding from every side of the opening. It wasn't uncomfortable; on the contrary, it allowed her butt to... breathe a little. "Comfortable in there?" she asked, giggling. "I am..."
He strained his eyes trying to see something, but he could still make out Morgan's massive buttocks blocking the only escape from this cursed box. Her flesh spilled over the opening, invading what little space he had left. He didn't answer her stupid question. For one, she didn't care about the answer. And two, he couldn't speak... Gagged with her dirty panties, he could still taste the horrendous flavor in his mouth. How could a pair of underwear hold so much awfulness for so long? But his thoughts were elsewhere: why had Morgan bothered to drill a hole only to block it off again?
A heavy rumble above him answered his question.
"Oh god, this is going to be bad..." Morgan muttered to herself. She didn't sound too good.
"Not to worry," she added, "I won't suffer... alone..."
Pfffffffftt
A long hiss echoed through the box as Morgan let out a fart. He panicked even before he could smell it, realizing his situation was about to get much worse. Trapped and unable to escape, he took his first breath, instantly regretting it. Morgan had always had strong... digestive issues. She could fill an entire room with one fart. But he'd never been confined in such a small space to experience them firsthand.
I tried to scream, "HHHHMMMMMMFFFFF!" but Morgan laughed, "A problem, slave? Something not right down there?" she giggled mockingly. "That was just the first one..." she added, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.
Prpprrppttptt
Another fart joined the first. The stench was unbearable, and the fumes had nowhere to go. As Morgan laughed hysterically, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks, the horrible smell making me nauseous and burning my eyes.
"It's just incredible, I can't feel a thing: this box is much more airtight than I thought." she said satisfied.
I didn't hear the third one, a SBD she knew how to make all too well. It raised the temperature in the box drastically, the odors seeming to amplify each other like adding rotting fish juice to a pile of spoiled meat left in the sun. I felt my stomach lurch, trying not to imagine what would happen if I threw up while still gagged.
"I hope everything's okay in there, I've got a 2-hour assignment due tomorrow, and I don't plan on getting up until it's done", Morgan announced.
"HHHHMMMMMF!!" (Noooooo!!)
The only thing I understood was that I wasn't going to make it. How could anyone survive breathing only her emissions for 2 hours?
"Well, you seem a bit uptight... breathe slowly..." she added before laughing again. If hell existed, it must look like this. I tried to put some distance between myself and her bulbous buttocks that showed no signs of stopping their putrid emissions. But there was barely any space for me to move in.
PPPPPRRRRRTTTT
A violent fart joined the rest, a hot gust searching desperately for an escape but finding only my nose. My nostrils burned, and the smell seemed to linger at the back of my throat.
"hhhmmmmphhnnmmm," I begged, pleading for Morgan's mercy. But there was no response. Had she put on her headphones to work? Could she even hear me? Was she ignoring me?
Pffffffff...
Another SBD was her only reply. This one seemed even worse than the first. Whether it was real or hallucinations caused by lack of fresh air, I could swear I saw green, putrid smoke filling the box.
PPRRPPRPRRRPPTRR
A barrage of small farts accumulated on top of the rest. My head felt heavy, whether from lack of oxygen, overpowering smells, or heat... I couldn't think straight anymore. I noticed my head was leaning against one side of the box, and I couldn't move. I was exhausted.
PPPPPPPRRRRRRT
Another... One last breath sent me straight into unconsciousness
1 hour in. Morgan had completed half... this stupid math assignment... She noticed that it had been a while since she'd heard anything from her boyfriend. His initial pleas had amused her, but for work, she needed silence. After a few explosive releases, she got her wish. She remembered a time when she was shopping with Abby; they had to switch stores because Morgan let one rip, and the smell was unbearable...
She decided to take a break and stood up. A suction sound echoed as her ass lifted off the box. Turning around, she thought she saw greenish fumes escaping. She swiftly grabbed the remainder of the lid she'd cut out and slammed it back onto the box, catching a glimpse of her unconscious slave in the process. Ensuring the lid was secure (she wouldn't want to perfume her entire bedroom), she left and headed to the kitchen. In front of the opened fridge, she was thirsty and hungry. She decided to restock for the second hour that promised to be as long as the first.
Upon returning to her bedroom, she lifted the half-lid, revealing an absolutely revolting smell inside... And her slave wasn't even enjoying it.
Clearing her throat loudly, Morgan spat a thick, warm gob of saliva right onto his face. The sensation instantly woke him up. His eyes, reddened from the past hour's suffering, seemed to recall the recent events. He looked up at Morgan, begging for an end to this torment.
With a dark smile, Morgan turned around and sat heavily on the opening, once again cutting off the airflow and silencing his cries of agony. She had an assignment to finish, but more importantly, a tournament to win...
PPPRRRRRTTTTT.....