Closet Fetishist's Stories
Closet Fetishist's Stories
Author: Closet Fetishist
Written: December 18th, 2025
Darkness enveloped Lucas completely as consciousness slowly returned to him. His body was cramped within the confines of what felt like a wooden box, barely large enough to accommodate his sitting form. Thick ropes bound his wrists and ankles, while a cloth gag prevented him from calling out. Panic surged through him as he struggled against his restraints, his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage.
Suddenly, blinding light poured in from above as the lid of the box was lifted away. Before Lucas's eyes could adjust to the sudden brightness, two enormous round objects descended, blocking the light once more. Through his squinting gaze, he could make out a triangular piece of festive cloth stretched across them, emblazoned with the words 'hoe hoe hoe' in glittering script.
"Oh my! You're finally awake, sweetie," a melodious voice cooed from above, the tone warm and grandmotherly despite the alarming situation. "You must be wondering what's happening to you."
The voice belonged to an older woman with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes, her silver hair styled in a perfect bun. Despite her advanced years, there was something undeniably alluring about her voluptuous figure, particularly the massive posterior currently hovering just inches above Lucas's upturned face.
"I'm Mrs. Claus, dear. I'm sure you've heard of my husband," she continued cheerfully, adjusting her position slightly. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. You've been very naughty this year, and since coal doesn't seem to discourage you young people anymore, my hubby decided more... direct punishments were necessary."
Mrs. Claus shifted her weight, causing her enormous buttocks to descend slightly closer to Lucas's face. The red velvet of her dress stretched tightly across her generous curves, leaving little to the imagination.
"While checking the naughty and nice lists, we had the most wonderful idea!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Without warning, her body tensed slightly. PPRRRRRRPTPTPT!!!
A hot blast of gas erupted from beneath her dress, blasting directly into Lucas's face. The sulfuric, eggy stench immediately filled the confined space of the box, leaving him no escape from the noxious fumes. Mrs. Claus sighed contentedly, wiggling her enormous bottom slightly.
"Ahhh~ I was holding that in for so long waiting for you to wake up," she admitted with a girlish giggle that belied her matronly appearance. "Now, as I was saying, we found the perfect solution to your punishment. You see, a very nice lady asked for a rather... unique Christmas present this year."
Mrs. Claus leaned down closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper even as her buttocks remained perilously close to Lucas's face. "She wanted a submissive butt slave who loves her bottom and all the nasty farts that come with it. And since you need punishment, by training you to become exactly that, we solve both problems at once!" Her face lit up with genuine joy at the cleverness of the arrangement, as though she were discussing nothing more unusual than a cookie recipe.
Lucas chokes and gags audibly on the wretched stench filling his tiny box prison. Through tortured breath he begs, "No, please...I'm sorry! I'll be good from now on!"
Mrs. Claus's plump cheeks jiggled as she laughed at Lucas's desperate pleas, her eyes twinkling with mischievous delight. The noxious cloud of her flatulence continued to circulate in the confined space, giving him no respite from the putrid stench. She shifted her enormous bottom slightly, causing her dress to ride up and reveal more of her pale, dimpled thighs.
"Oh sweetie, it's far too late for apologies now," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Santa and I have already checked the list twice, and your name was right at the top of the naughty column. Tsk tsk tsk." She wagged a finger playfully before pressing her massive posterior down lower, allowing the full weight of one cheek to rest against Lucas's face, partially obstructing his breathing.
"Besides," Mrs. Claus continued, grinding her buttock against his cheek with surprising strength for an elderly woman, "this isn't just about punishment anymore. You're going to be someone's Christmas present! Isn't that exciting?" Her belly jiggled as she laughed, the movement causing another pocket of gas to shift within her bowels. PRRRRRRRRPPPPT! A longer, wetter blast erupted directly into Lucas's nostrils.
"Mmmmm, excuse me," she giggled, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "That's what happens when you eat too many of my special Christmas cookies. They're delicious going in, but goodness me, they make such a stink coming out!" Mrs. Claus lifted herself slightly, examining Lucas's reddened face with interest. "Your training begins immediately. The sooner you learn to appreciate a lady's natural scents, the sooner you'll make Evelyn happy. She's been so lonely since her husband passed, and all she wants is someone to worship her bottom like he used to do."
With surprising strength, Mrs. Claus hoisted Lucas from the box and carried him through what appeared to be a workshop filled with busy elves who barely glanced up from their tasks. They seemed completely unfazed by the sight of the jolly old woman carrying a bound man toward a door marked Special Training. She hummed a Christmas carol as she walked, occasionally letting out small puffs of gas that left a trail of foul odor behind them. "We're going to have so much fun together," she promised, her voice sweet as candy despite the cruelty of her words. "By Christmas Eve, you'll be begging to sniff farts and kiss bottoms. And won't Evelyn be pleased with her perfect gift!"
Lucas's eyes darted around the facility with terror. "Where are you taking me? What's going to happen to me?!" He whimpers as Mrs. Santa carried him with ease. "What's in there?!" His panic increased with each of her steps.
Mrs. Claus's plump body jiggled with each step as she carried Lucas down a long, candy-cane striped hallway. Her enormous buttocks swayed hypnotically behind her, occasionally brushing against the walls in the narrower sections. The scent of gingerbread and peppermint that permeated the air did little to mask the lingering aroma of her previous gaseous emissions that seemed to follow them like a noxious cloud. She hummed Jingle Bells cheerfully, completely unbothered by Lucas's increasing panic.
"Oh, don't you worry your naughty little head about it, sweetie," Mrs. Claus replied, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that belied the cruelty of the situation. "We're just going to my special training room where I help prepare special gifts like you." She paused at a large red door adorned with mistletoe and what appeared to be air fresheners. "In there, we're going to work on your appreciation for the finer things in life... like the beautiful aroma and taste of a woman's posterior!" She giggled, the movement causing her enormous ass to jiggle mere inches from Lucas's face as she shifted him in her strong arms.
With a grunt of effort, Mrs. Claus pushed the door open with her hip, revealing a room that looked like a bizarre cross between a Christmas-themed bedroom and a dungeon. The walls were painted a festive red and green, but various restraints hung from hooks on the walls. A large bed dominated the center, covered in red velvet sheets and equipped with restraints at each corner. Various paddles, whips, and other implements hung from a rack shaped like a Christmas tree, while a shelf displayed an alarming collection of butt-shaped objects in various sizes.
PRRRRRRRRRRPPPPTTTTT! Mrs. Claus suddenly released another powerful blast of gas, this one directly into Lucas's face as she held him. The putrid stench of rotten eggs and spicy meat filled his nostrils, making his eyes water. "Oopsie! Excuse me, dear. Those reindeer sausages from breakfast are really working their magic!" She laughed heartily, her entire body shaking with mirth. "You know, that's actually a perfect way to start your training. How did that smell, sweetie? Be honest now, Mrs. Claus can tell when you're lying just like my husband can!" She winked playfully, but there was a steely determination behind her twinkling eyes.
"It smells bad!" Lucas frantically answered as the smell consumed his senses with it's noxious potency.
"Aww, well you'll get used to it, dear," Mrs. Claus dismissively replied. Setting Lucas down on the bed, Mrs. Claus began methodically securing his limbs to the four corners with festive red and green restraints. Her massive breasts and belly pressed against him as she worked, and the occasional small puff of gas escaped her as she bent and stretched. "You see, Lucas, by Christmas Eve, you're going to be begging to smell Evelyn's farts and kiss her ass. You'll worship her big beautiful butt like it's the greatest gift you've ever received—because it will be!" She finished securing him and stood back, admiring her handiwork. "And do you know how we're going to accomplish this miracle of Christmas?" Mrs. Claus slowly turned around and began lifting her dress, revealing enormous, pale buttocks covered only by a thin pair of red panties. "We're going to start with a little something I call 'face sitting therapy.' Ten hours a day under my big old butt should have you properly trained in no time at all! And if you're really good, I might even let you come up for air occasionally." She laughed again, the sound both jolly and terrifying as she prepared to begin Lucas's transformation into the perfect Christmas gift.
Mrs. Claus's plump body wobbled delightfully as she climbed onto the bed, the ancient springs creaking in protest beneath her substantial weight. Her rosy cheeks dimpled with a predatory smile as she crawled toward Lucas's restrained form, her movements surprisingly sensual for a woman of her advanced years. The massive globes of her buttocks swayed hypnotically with each movement, threatening to escape the confines of her stretched red panties. A faint but unmistakable odor wafted from beneath her dress—a preview of the olfactory assault to come.
Lucas's fearful eyes go wide with each inch she advances towards his head. "No...please no, you can't!" He pleads as his body shakes, horrified at the thought of what her butt sitting on his face would smell like given the stench he's already endured from her.
"Oh, sweetie," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sympathy as she positioned herself above his terrified face. "Of course I can! That's the whole point of your punishment and training." Her enormous thighs now straddled his head, casting his face in shadow as her massive posterior hovered mere inches above him. "Besides, how else will you learn to appreciate Evelyn's beautiful bottom if you don't get acquainted with mine first? Think of this as... Christmas bootcamp!" She giggled at her own pun, the movement causing another pocket of gas to shift audibly within her bowels.
Mrs. Claus reached back and patted her enormous behind affectionately. "You know, in all my centuries of marriage, my Nicholas has never once complained about my gassiness. He says it's part of my charm!" As if to demonstrate, she tensed slightly and released a silent but deadly emission directly above Lucas's face. The putrid stench of digested fruitcake and eggnog immediately engulfed him in an invisible cloud. PSSSSSSSSSSST! "Oopsie! That was just a little appetizer, dear. Wait until after I've had my bean casserole for lunch!" She wiggled her enormous buttocks playfully, lowering them until they were barely an inch from his nose.
"Now, I want you to take a nice, deep breath," Mrs. Claus instructed, her tone suddenly stern despite her cheerful expression. "The sooner you learn to love the smell and feel of a woman's posterior, the happier you'll be as Evelyn's gift. She's such a sweet lady, you know. Makes the most delicious baked mac and cheese but it gives her the most terrible gas. Her late husband used to worship her for hours after she'd eaten a whole tray. Such devotion!" She sighed wistfully, momentarily lost in thought before refocusing on the task at hand. BRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPT! Another explosive blast erupted from between her cheeks, this one warm and moist against Lucas's face, carrying notes of sulfur and spoiled milk.
"There we go! That was a good one!" Mrs. Claus exclaimed proudly, wiggling her enormous ass directly onto Lucas's face, completely covering his nose and mouth with her soft, warm flesh, with only a thin fart-marinated panty separating him from her anus. The weight was substantial, making breathing difficult as her buttocks enveloped his features. "Now, darling, I want you to give Mrs. Claus's bottom a nice kiss to show you're ready to begin your training properly. And remember—" her voice took on a sing-song quality as she ground her ass more firmly against his face, "—Santa knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake!" PRRRRRRRRRRRRPT! "Oh my, excuse me again! These Christmas preparations always get my tummy so worked up. Now pucker up and give my bottom the respect it deserves, or we'll be here all day. And trust me, sweetie, I've got plenty more gas where that came from!" Her laughter filled the room, jolly and terrifying all at once, as she settled in for what promised to be a long and productive training session.
There was little Lucas could do in this position, his body still struggled and squirmed for freedom but it was no use under Mrs. Claus's heavy bottom. Her gas was filling his nostrils entirely, making him woozy and lightheaded. He was starting to lose control of his mental faculties. He would do anything at this point to make this torture stop, even if only for a moment. Through heaving breath, he puckered his lips and gave as strong a smooch to her butt crack as he could muster.
Mrs. Claus's enormous buttocks quivered with delight as she felt Lucas's reluctant lips press against her crack through the thin fabric of her panties. A triumphant smile spread across her rosy cheeks, her eyes twinkling with mischievous glee. The moment his lips made contact with her posterior, she tensed her abdominal muscles deliberately, channeling the built-up pressure downward.
"Ohohoho! That's a good boy!" she cooed, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Your first kiss! I knew you had it in you—now I'll make sure you have something special in you too!" BRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT!
The explosive blast erupted with perfect timing, forcing its way past Lucas's puckered lips and directly down his throat. The gas was scorching hot and carried the putrid essence of Mrs. Claus's festive breakfast—scrambled cheesy eggs, reindeer sausage, and spiced eggnog all fermented together into a noxious cloud that invaded his lungs. The taste was indescribably foul, like rotten eggs mixed with sour milk and left to bake in the summer sun. Mrs. Claus wiggled her enormous bottom against his face, ensuring not a single molecule of her gaseous emission escaped his forced consumption.
"My goodness, that was a particularly juicy one!" Mrs. Claus exclaimed, grinding her buttocks more firmly against Lucas's sputtering face. "You should feel honored, dear. I've been saving that one up special just for you! The first of many Christmas presents you'll be receiving during your training!" She reached back and patted her jiggling posterior affectionately, the movement releasing several smaller puffs of gas directly into Lucas's nostrils. PFFT! PFFT! "Excuse me! Those little ones just slip out sometimes. They're like Christmas elves—small but mighty!" PRRRRRT!
As Lucas continued to choke and sputter beneath her substantial weight, Mrs. Claus shifted slightly, allowing him just enough air to prevent him from passing out completely. Her enormous thighs squeezed against the sides of his head, holding him firmly in place as she reached for a small bell on the bedside table. With a delicate jingle, she rang it three times, the sound echoing through the festively decorated dungeon. Within moments, the door opened to reveal a female elf carrying a tray loaded with steaming food—a massive bowl of what appeared to be bean stew, several hard-boiled eggs, and a large mug of fizzy soda.
"Ah, perfect timing, Jingles!" Mrs. Claus called out cheerfully, as though she weren't currently smothering a man with her posterior. "Just set my lunch there on the table. I'm in the middle of a very important training session." The elf nodded knowingly, setting down the tray before departing without so much as a glance at Lucas's predicament. Mrs. Claus turned her attention back to her captive, lifting her enormous bottom just enough to allow him to see her face as she smiled down at him wickedly. "Now, Lucas, I think we're making excellent progress already! You've given my bottom its first kiss, and you've tasted your first fart down your throat. But this is just the beginning, sweetie. After I eat this lovely lunch, we'll really get down to business. Evelyn is going to be so pleased with how thoroughly I'm training her Christmas present!" Mrs. Claus reached back and pulled her red panties aside, exposing her wrinkled, puckered anus directly to Lucas's face. The musky, unwashed scent hit him like a physical force, making his eyes water. She lowered her massive buttocks once more, completely engulfing his face in soft, warm flesh. "Now, be a good boy and give Mrs. Claus another kiss. This time, use your tongue!" PRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPTTTT!
Lucas whimpered weakly, nearly sobbing from his putrid predicament that seemed to have no end in sight and no one to save him from this vicious treatment. He extends his tongue into Mrs. Claus's butthole but it makes him gag and recoil in disgust as he makes contact.
"Now, now, sweetie," she admonished, her voice stern despite its sugary tone. "That's not how we worship a lady's bottom! You need to really get in there and show some enthusiasm! Try again, and this time, I want to feel that tongue DEEP in there, like you're French kissing my butthole!" PRRRRRRPT! A small, wet fart escaped her exposed hole, spraying directly onto his tongue with microscopic particles of fecal matter.
"That's it, good boy," Mrs. Claus cooed as she felt Lucas's tongue reluctantly press against her anus once more. She began to bounce gently on his face, her enormous ass cheeks jiggling and slapping against his cheeks with each movement. The weight was suffocating, each bounce driving what little air remained from his lungs. "Mmmmm, that's much better! Evelyn is going to be so pleased with her gift. She has such a beautiful bottom too—not quite as experienced as mine, of course, but just as gassy!" BRRRRRAAAAPPPPPT! Another explosive blast erupted directly into Lucas's mouth as his tongue remained pressed against her hole, the hot gas forcing its way past his lips and filling his mouth with its putrid taste.
Mrs. Claus reached for her steaming bowl of bean stew, continuing to bounce on Lucas's face as she began to eat. Between mouthfuls, she spoke cheerfully, "You know, Lucas, I've been training naughty boys and girls for centuries, but you're picking this up remarkably quickly! Most take at least a day before they're willing to tongue my butthole so obediently." PSSSSSSSSST! A long, silent emission seeped directly onto his tongue, the taste so foul it made his stomach heave. "Oopsie! That one snuck out! But a good butt slave learns to savor every flavor his Mistress produces, doesn't he? Keep licking, sweetie. I want to feel that tongue massage my special Christmas star!"
After several more minutes of bouncing on his face, Mrs. Claus suddenly lifted herself up slightly, allowing Lucas a precious moment to gasp for air. Her buttocks hovered just inches above his face, her puckered hole still exposed and glistening with his saliva. "Now, Lucas, I think you're ready for the next step in your training." BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTT! The longest, loudest fart yet exploded from her anus, the force of it actually causing her buttocks to vibrate against his face. The stench was apocalyptic, like rotting meat and sulfur combined. "Oh my! That bean stew works quickly! Now, sweetie, I want you to thank me for that wonderful gift I just gave you. Thank Mrs. Claus for her delicious Christmas gas, and beg for more like a good little butt slave. If you're convincing enough, I might let you have a sip of water before we continue your training. If not..." She let the threat hang in the air as she lowered her enormous ass once more, completely covering his face with fart-tainted flesh. "Well, let's just say I've got plenty more gas brewing, and I'm a very patient woman." PFFT! PFFT! PRRRRRRPT! "Oh my, excuse me! Those beans are really dancing in my tummy now! Better get used to the taste, sweetie—you'll be having it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until Christmas Eve!"
Mrs. Claus made Lucas savor the flavors a second or two more before her enormous buttocks lifted just enough to allow him a precious gasp of fresh air, her plump thighs still bracketing his head like fleshy prison walls. Her rosy face peered down at him from above, silver hair slightly disheveled from her enthusiastic bouncing.
Lucas wasn't particularly thirsty but any momentary break in inhaling her gas was worth it. Though exhausted and tormented, he sincerely groans, "Tha...thank you Mrs. Claus for your wonderful fa...fart and please gi...give me more." Lucas cringed saying the words as they came out of his mouth, more farts was the very last thing he wanted but he had very little choice other than to obey his captor.
A delighted smile spread across her lips as she heard his reluctant words of gratitude and submission. Her eyes twinkled with mischievous glee, reminiscent of her husband's famous sparkle, though hers held a decidedly more sinister quality.
"Ohohoho! What a good little butt slave you're becoming!" she cooed, reaching for the glass of water on the nearby table. "Here's your reward, sweetie. Can't have Evelyn's Christmas present dying of thirst before the big day, can we?" She held the glass to his lips, allowing him just enough to wet his throat before setting it aside. As she shifted her weight, her enormous posterior jiggled hypnotically, a subtle warning of what was to come. "You know, I'm so proud of your progress already. Most naughty boys and girls take days before they're begging for my gas!" PRRRT! A small, teasing fart escaped her as she spoke, the scent wafting toward his face like an appetizer before the main course.
"Since you asked so nicely for more," Mrs. Claus continued, reaching for another spoonful of her bean stew, "I simply must oblige! Christmas is all about giving, after all!" She shoveled the steaming food into her mouth with gusto, chewing loudly before swallowing. "Mmm, delicious! And just think—in a few hours, all of this will be transformed into the most wonderful Christmas gas, just for you!" She patted her round belly affectionately, the contents audibly gurgling in anticipation. "But why wait? I think I feel another gift coming right now!" BRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT! The explosive blast erupted from between her cheeks, the force actually lifting her slightly off his face for a split second before she settled back down, grinding her enormous buttocks against him to ensure he received every molecule of her putrid emission.
"Oh my, that was a juicy one!" Mrs. Claus giggled, her entire body jiggling with mirth. "Did you taste the cinnamon and nutmeg from my morning pastries? Santa always says my Christmas farts have the most festive flavors!" She reached back and spread her cheeks wider, her puckered hole now pressed directly against Lucas's nose. "Now, be a good boy and give Mrs. Claus's butthole a nice, deep sniff. I want you to really appreciate the bouquet, like a fine wine!" PSSSSSSSSSSST! A long, silent emission seeped directly into his nostrils, the stench so powerful it made his eyes water and his head spin. "That's it, breathe it all in! Soon you'll be doing this for Evelyn, and I want her to be absolutely delighted with how thoroughly I've trained her gift. Now tell me, sweetie—are you starting to enjoy the taste and smell of my gas yet? Be honest now." PFFT! PFFT! PRRRRRRPT! "Goodness me, those little ones just keep slipping out! Must be the extra beans I added to the stew this morning. Special recipe just for your training!"
Lucas's head was spinning, both from the gaseous assault and about whether he should try to lie to Mrs. Claus or tell her the truth. "No, Mrs. Claus," he weakly wailed as if saying the truth was an admission of failure. He feared what punishment would come from his candid answer.
Mrs. Claus's plump face transformed instantly, her jolly expression hardening into something far more severe. Her eyes, normally twinkling with mischief, now narrowed dangerously as she processed Lucas's honest admission. The temperature in the festively decorated dungeon seemed to drop several degrees as she slowly straightened her back, her enormous buttocks still firmly planted on Lucas's chest, her puckered hole just inches from his face.
"No?" she repeated, her voice deceptively soft, like fresh snow concealing a deadly crevasse. "You don't enjoy the taste and smell of my gas yet?" She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, reaching back to stroke his cheek with surprising tenderness. "Oh, my poor, misguided little gift. I appreciate your honesty—truly, I do—but this simply won't do. Not at all." She shifted her weight, her massive thighs squeezing against the sides of his head as she reached for one of the hard boiled eggs and crumbled it like crackers into the bean stew. Then she grabbed the bowl and took another enormous spoonful, chewing it thoughtfully.
"You see, Lucas," Mrs. Claus continued after swallowing, her tone now educational, as though explaining a particularly complex Christmas recipe, "this isn't about what you want or enjoy. You were naughty, remember? And naughty boys don't get to decide their punishment." She patted her rumbling belly, the contents audibly sloshing and gurgling. "Besides, Evelyn needs a gift who LOVES the smell and taste of her gas. Her late husband used to beg for it, you know. Would follow her around the house with his nose practically glued to her bottom, just hoping for a little Christmas puff." BRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT! The explosive blast erupted directly into Lucas's face, the force of it causing her enormous buttocks to vibrate against his skin. The stench was apocalyptic—beans, eggs, and something distinctly dairy-based combined into a noxious cloud that engulfed his entire world.
"Now," Mrs. Claus said, her voice suddenly stern as she reached behind her and grabbed a fistful of Lucas's hair, forcing his face directly against her exposed anus, "I think we need to intensify your training. Clearly, the gentle approach isn't working quickly enough." She reached over to the bedside table and rang her little bell three times. The door opened immediately, and two female elves entered, carrying what appeared to be a complex apparatus of tubes and a small tank. "Jingles, Sparkles—please set up the gas infusion system. Our little gift here needs some more... immersive training." The elves nodded knowingly, moving to set up their equipment beside the bed as Mrs. Claus continued to hold Lucas's face firmly against her posterior.
"You see, sweetie," Mrs. Claus explained, her voice returning to its saccharine sweetness as the elves worked, "I've been doing this for centuries. I know exactly how to train reluctant gifts like you." PSSSSSSSSST! A long, silent emission seeped directly into his nostrils, the putrid stench making his eyes water uncontrollably. "This little device is something special we save for the particularly stubborn cases. It's collected my wonderful gas from the past few days—PFFT! PFFT!—and stored it in that tank. Then, while I take a little break to eat more of my special bean stew and hard-boiled eggs, you'll be breathing nothing but pure, concentrated Mrs. Claus gas through this little mask. By the time I return, your brain will be so saturated with my scent that you'll be begging for more!" She giggled, the sound incongruously cheerful given the torturous scenario she was describing. "And if that doesn't work... well, there's always the buttermilk enema followed by direct consumption. But let's hope it doesn't come to that, hmm?" BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTT! "Oh my, excuse me! Those beans are really dancing now! Consider that a little preview of what you'll be breathing for the next hour, sweetie. Now, be a good boy—Jingles needs to attach the breathing mask!"
Mrs. Claus slowly releases Lucas from her thigh grip and slides off the bed. The two elves move in quickly to strap the mask to Lucas's face, covering his mouth and nose. Mrs. Claus looks back at Evelyn's gift once more before leaving the Special Training room. The elves tighten the mask and Lucas tries pleading with the elves, "Please... can you help me get out of here? Please!" Once the mask is fully tightened, Sparkles looks at Lucas with a cruel smirk and switches the machine on. "No! No please!!" Lucas cries out.
The hissing of the gas infusion machine filled the festively decorated dungeon as it pumped concentrated flatulence directly into the mask strapped tightly to Lucas's face. The clear tube connecting the tank to the mask clouded with yellowish-brown vapor, delivering Mrs. Claus's collected emissions in concentrated form. Each mechanical whir pushed another pulse of the noxious gas into the sealed mask, forcing Lucas to inhale nothing but pure, undiluted anal vapors. The elves had departed, leaving him alone with only the rhythmic pumping of the machine and the increasingly putrid stench filling his every breath.
He gagged and sputtered but there's not a single bit of relief as the machine unloaded days worth of farts into Lucas's face without stopping. His body convulsed and his eyes slowly rolled back in his head as the gas consumed him entirely with no relief.
Hours passed in gaseous torment before the heavy wooden door finally creaked open. Mrs. Claus waddled in, her enormous posterior swaying with each step, a fresh bowl of steaming bean stew clutched in her plump hands. Her rosy cheeks lifted in a delighted smile as she observed Lucas's unconscious form, his chest rising and falling weakly as the machine continued to pump her collected flatulence into his mask. She set down her bowl and approached the bed, her eyes twinkling with mischievous satisfaction.
"Oh my, looks like someone couldn't handle their Christmas present!" Mrs. Claus giggled, reaching out to stroke Lucas's sweat-dampened hair with surprising tenderness. "Jingles! Sparkles! Come turn off the machine and wake our little gift up. We have much more training to do before he's ready for Evelyn!" The two elves scurried in, Jingles switching off the infusion device while Sparkles produced a vial of pungent smelling salts. As the mask was removed from Lucas's face, revealing red indentations where it had pressed against his skin, Sparkles waved the vial under his nose. The sharp ammonia scent cut through the lingering stench of Mrs. Claus's gas, jolting Lucas back to consciousness with a gasping cough.
"There he is!" Mrs. Claus exclaimed cheerfully, clapping her hands together as Lucas's eyes fluttered open, disoriented and watering. "How do you feel, sweetie? Did you enjoy your little gas nap?" PRRRRRT! A small fart escaped her as she spoke, as if to remind him of what he'd been breathing for hours. "I've been busy preparing more of my special bean stew and hard-boiled eggs. My tummy is absolutely BURSTING with gas now—I can feel it bubbling and churning, just waiting to be released into your eager little nostrils!" She patted her round belly, which audibly gurgled in response. "But first, I want to check on your progress. Tell me truthfully now—are you starting to appreciate the smell and taste of a woman's gas yet?"
The elves busied themselves removing the straps that bound Lucas to the bed, though they kept his hands secured behind his back. Mrs. Claus lowered her enormous posterior onto a nearby chair, which creaked ominously under her substantial weight. She spooned another mouthful of bean stew into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she awaited Lucas's response. The room fell silent except for the sound of her mastication and the occasional gurgle from her digestive system, processing the gas-producing foods she'd been consuming all day specifically for his training. After swallowing, she leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face for any sign of deception.
"You know," Mrs. Claus said softly, her voice taking on an almost maternal quality despite the torturous situation, "the sooner you learn to love it, the happier you'll be as Evelyn's gift. She's such a sweet woman—lonely since her husband passed. All she wants is someone to appreciate her beautiful bottom and the wonderful gas it produces." BRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT! As if to emphasize her point, an explosive blast erupted from between her cheeks, the force of it actually lifting her slightly off the chair. The stench quickly filled the room, inescapable even without the mask. "Oopsie! Excuse me! That one had quite a kick to it, didn't it? Must be the extra onions I added to the stew. Now, what do you say, Lucas? Has Mrs. Claus's special training helped you develop an appreciation for a lady's gas yet? Or do we need to try something more... intensive?" Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as she reached for the bell, ready to summon the elves for whatever horrific training method she had planned next.
Lucas's breathing was still heaving and his face was wet from tortured tears. He closed his eyes and searched inside himself for the answer, the truth. He took an unconscious whiff of the air around him, the smell was still putrid to him but there was now a certain familiarity and comfort to it too. "Yes, Mrs. Claus. It has," he answered.
Mrs. Claus's plump face lit up with genuine delight, her eyes widening as she processed Lucas's admission. The corners of her mouth curled upward into a smile that stretched from rosy cheek to rosy cheek, revealing perfect white teeth that seemed to sparkle in the warm light of the training room. She clapped her hands together excitedly, causing her ample bosom to bounce beneath her red velvet dress, the movement sending a fresh waft of her bodily scent toward Lucas's sensitized nostrils.
"Oh, how WONDERFUL!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with the same enthusiasm she might use when discovering a perfectly baked batch of Christmas cookies. "I just KNEW you had it in you, sweetie! Everyone has the capacity to appreciate a good, hearty gas cloud once they've been properly introduced to it!" She rose from her chair with surprising agility for a woman of her size, her enormous posterior swaying hypnotically as she approached Lucas. The floorboards creaked beneath her substantial weight as she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed beside him, reaching out to stroke his tear-stained cheek with surprising tenderness. "Tell me more, my little gift. What aspects of my gas are you beginning to appreciate? Is it the robust bouquet? The complex flavor notes? The intimate connection it creates between giver and receiver?" PRRRRRT! A small, wet fart escaped her as she spoke, as if to provide a fresh sample for his consideration.
"You know," Mrs. Claus continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned closer, her breath smelling of bean stew and cinnamon, "Evelyn is going to be so pleased. Her late husband was a connoisseur of feminine flatulence—could identify what she'd eaten just from a single whiff!" BRRRAAAAPPPT! Another blast erupted from between her cheeks, this one longer and more resonant than the last. "Oopsie! Excuse me! That one had quite a kick to it, didn't it?" She giggled, the sound incongruously girlish coming from such a matronly figure. Her enormous buttocks jiggled with her laughter, and she reached back to give one cheek an affectionate pat.
"I think you deserve a reward for your progress," Mrs. Claus declared, rising from the bed and moving to the small table where a covered silver tray had been placed. She lifted the dome with a flourish, revealing a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. "These are my special Christmas cookies—made with love and just a hint of magic. They'll help settle your tummy after all that gas inhalation." She brought the tray over and set it beside Lucas, gesturing for the elves to free his hands so he could eat. As Jingles and Sparkles worked to unbind his wrists, Mrs. Claus continued speaking, her tone becoming more businesslike. "Now, we still have much training to do before Christmas Eve. Evelyn specifically requested a gift who would worship her posterior with enthusiasm and skill." PSSSSSSSSST! A long, silent emission seeped from between her cheeks, the stench quickly filling the small room. "So once you've had your snack, we'll move on to the next phase of your training—proper butt kissing technique! I have several positions I'd like to teach you, and we'll need to work on your tongue dexterity as well. Evelyn deserves nothing but the best, after all! Now eat up, sweetie—you'll need your strength for what comes next!" PFFT! PFFT! PRRRRRRPT! "Goodness me, those little ones just keep slipping out!"
As Lucas reached for a cookie with trembling hands, Mrs. Claus watched him with maternal satisfaction, her enormous body radiating heat and the distinctive scent of her gas. The elves exchanged knowing glances, clearly aware of what the next phase of training would entail. Outside the window, snow fell gently, covering the North Pole in a pristine blanket of white, while inside, the air was thick with the pungent aroma of Mrs. Claus's digestive processes and the promise of more intensive training to come. "That's it, eat up," she encouraged, patting her rumbling belly. "And when you're done, I want you to tell me exactly what you've learned to appreciate about a lady's gas. Be specific now—Mrs. Claus loves details!" BRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT! The explosive blast erupted from between her cheeks, the force of it causing the cookies on the plate to tremble.
Lucas gratefully devoured his reward, chomping down on the cookies and gulping down the milk like it was his last meal. A soft burp escaped him as he finished which made Mrs. Claus giggle delightedly. Then she stared at him intently with an expectant smile, waiting for his answer. "Um...I like the intimacy most of all, Mrs. Claus," Lucas begins to answer. "And the smell, it...uh...gives a sense of comfort and familiarity. Like a warm embrace," Lucas continued. He was almost surprised by the thoughts that were coming out of his mouth because they were clearly at odds with his harrowing experience but they felt no less true. Something was clearly changing inside of Lucas, whether he was fully able to admit it or not.
Mrs. Claus's eyes twinkled with delight, a genuine warmth replacing the clinical satisfaction of a trainer seeing progress in her subject. Her enormous posterior shifted against the bed as she repositioned herself, the movement releasing a small puff of gas that added to the already pungent atmosphere of the training room.
"Oh, my sweet boy!" Mrs. Claus exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion. "That's EXACTLY what makes it special! The intimacy... the sharing of something so personal..." PRRRRRT! Another small fart escaped her as she rolled onto her stomach. The bed creaked ominously beneath her substantial weight as she settled into position, her enormous buttocks rising like twin mountains draped in red velvet. "You've earned a little trust, Lucas. I won't have the elves bind you for this next part of your training." Her pudgy fingers reached back to grasp her dress, hiking it up to reveal her massive, pale buttocks, the skin dimpled with cellulite and marked with a few age spots. Between those enormous cheeks lay her wrinkled, puckered anus, surrounded by wisps of silver hair and visibly soiled with brown streaks and particles from her frequent gaseous emissions.
"Now," Mrs. Claus instructed, her voice taking on a more authoritative tone as she used both hands to spread her enormous cheeks wider, "I want you to put your face right in there and extend your tongue to my butthole. Don't be shy—Evelyn will expect enthusiasm!" The stench that wafted from between her spread cheeks was overwhelming—a potent mixture of fecal matter, sweat, and the lingering aroma of countless farts that had been brewing in the hot, moist environment of her crack all day. Small particles of brown matter clung to the wrinkled skin around her anus, evidence of her hurried bathroom habits and the explosive nature of her flatulence. "This is where the real intimacy happens, sweetie." PSSSSSSSST! A silent but deadly emission seeped from her exposed hole, the gas visibly distorting the air directly around her anus like heat waves rising from hot pavement.
Lucas gagged audibly at the sight and smell, but Mrs. Claus merely wiggled her enormous bottom impatiently. "Come now, don't keep an old lady waiting! This is an important skill you'll need for Evelyn. She loves a good tongue bath after a long day of baking and crafting." Her buttocks jiggled hypnotically as she adjusted her position, spreading her legs slightly wider to give him better access to her soiled crack. "Remember what you just told me about intimacy and comfort? This is the ultimate expression of that connection! Now get in there and show me what you've learned!" BRRRAAAAPPPT! Another explosive blast erupted from her exposed hole, the force of it causing her anus to visibly dilate and contract, expelling a small cloud of brown particles directly into the air where Lucas's face would soon be. "Now come on, sweetie—tongue out and get to work! Mrs. Claus has a busy schedule of Christmas preparations, and we need to make sure you're properly trained before the big day!"
As Lucas reluctantly obeyed, moving his face toward the soiled crevice between her enormous buttocks, Mrs. Claus let out a contented sigh. "That's it, sweetie... nice and close..." PFFT! PFFT! "Now remember, Evelyn will want you to really get in there with your tongue. Circle the rim, then push the tip right against the center. Her late husband was quite skilled at this—used to spend hours with his face buried between her cheeks. She misses that terribly, poor dear." PRRRRRRPT! "Oh my! Excuse me again! I can feel a big one building up deep inside—must be that third bowl of bean stew I had for lunch. Better take a deep breath while you can, sweetie!" BRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT! The explosive blast erupted directly against Lucas's face as he extended his tongue toward her filthy hole, the hot, wet gas carrying particles of fecal matter that coated his tongue with their bitter, pungent taste. Mrs. Claus moaned with relief, her enormous body shuddering with pleasure as she released the pent-up pressure. "Mmmmm, that felt divine! Now, be a good boy and clean up the mess you just caused with that talented tongue of yours. Christmas is all about giving, after all!"
Lucas could feel himself falling into a trance, his tongue lapping at Mrs. Claus's backside with mesmerizing rhythm that seemed to transcend the horrible stench and taste of her flatulent butt hole. As he continued to serve Mrs. Claus's anus with his tongue, Lucas either fell peacefully asleep or passed out because the next thing he knew was waking up in a dark, cramped space. His knees were tightly tucked against his chest and there was barely an inch to move. He wondered to himself, was that all a dream, a horrible nightmare?
Suddenly, rustling is heard outside his confines and movement above him that sounds like the ripping of paper. A second later, bright sunlight shines in from above and then a beautiful husky woman comes into view.
Evelyn's face beamed with pure joy as she gazed down at Lucas in the large gift box. Her plump cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with anticipation. She was exactly as Mrs. Claus had described—motherly yet sensual, with voluptuous curves straining against a festive green sweater adorned with snowflakes. Her chestnut hair, streaked with elegant silver strands, was pulled back in a loose bun, and her full lips were painted a cheerful red. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted from her warm skin as she leaned closer, her ample bosom nearly spilling from her sweater.
"Oh my goodness! You're absolutely perfect!" Evelyn exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. Her voice was melodious and warm, like honey drizzled over fresh bread. "I'm Evelyn, sweetheart, and you must be Lucas. Mrs. Claus told me all about you in her letter." She reached into the box with soft, manicured hands and gently stroked Lucas's cheek. "I've been so lonely since my Harold passed, especially during the holidays. But now I have you—my very own Christmas miracle!" As she spoke, she shifted her weight, causing the couch beneath her to creak slightly. The movement released a small, bubbling fart that she didn't even acknowledge, as if such emissions were simply a natural part of conversation. PRRRT! "I hope you're comfortable in there, but let's get you out so I can properly welcome you to your new home."
Evelyn helped Lucas out of the box, revealing that he was dressed only in red silk boxers with little mistletoe patterns—clearly Mrs. Claus's idea of appropriate gift wrapping. The living room around them was warm and cozy, decorated lavishly for Christmas with twinkling lights, garlands, and a massive tree surrounded by presents. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the air smelled of pine, cinnamon, and beneath it all, the unmistakable hint of Evelyn's personal scent—similar to Mrs. Claus's but uniquely her own. As Lucas stood somewhat unsteadily, Evelyn circled him appreciatively, her enormous ass swaying hypnotically beneath her festive skirt.
"Mrs. Claus's letter explained everything about your special training," Evelyn continued, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone as she ran her fingers along Lucas's shoulders. "How you've learned to appreciate the intimate connection that comes from worshipping a woman's posterior." BRRRAAAP! A louder fart escaped her as she completed her circle around him, the gas audibly rippling between her substantial buttocks. "Oh! Excuse me! The Christmas pudding always makes me so gassy. But that's part of why I needed you, isn't it?" She smiled warmly, not a hint of embarrassment on her face. "Harold used to say my gas was like fine wine—complex, robust, and meant to be savored. He'd spend hours with his face buried between my cheeks, breathing in every emission like it was precious perfume. I've missed that connection so much." Her eyes grew misty with emotion, and she dabbed at them with a tissue pulled from her sleeve. "I have so many plans for us, Lucas. We'll start slow today—just some light face-sitting while I watch my Christmas movies. But tomorrow, oh my! I've been saving up my gas all week by eating nothing but Brussels sprouts, beans, and cabbage." PSSSSST! Another silent but potent emission escaped her as she spoke, the smell quickly permeating the warm room. "That's just a little preview of what's to come. Now, would you like some hot chocolate before we get comfortable? I made it with extra whipped cream—you'll need your strength for what I have planned!"
Evelyn didn't wait for an answer before taking Lucas's hand and leading him toward the kitchen, her enormous posterior swaying with each step. The back of her festive skirt was slightly stained with brown marks, suggesting that, like Mrs. Claus, her personal hygiene took a backseat to convenience. "I've converted Harold's old study into a special room just for us," she chatted happily as she poured steaming hot chocolate into a mug shaped like Santa's head. "It has a special chair with an opening beneath the seat, so you can worship my bottom for hours while I read or knit." PFFT! PFFT! "The chair also has restraints—not that you'll need them after Mrs. Claus's thorough training, but I do enjoy the aesthetic." She handed Lucas the mug, her fingers lingering against his for a moment longer than necessary. "Drink up, my Christmas gift. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can get acquainted with your new home—right between these cheeks!" She turned and bent slightly, patting her enormous buttocks with obvious pride. The movement caused another explosive fart to erupt from between her cheeks, the force of it actually lifting her skirt slightly. BRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTT! "I think we're going to get along just wonderfully, don't you? Mrs. Claus certainly knows how to pick the perfect gift!"