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Play Prisoner
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: November 7th, 2013

"John!" The director screams. "Where the fuck is John?!"

"I'm here, I'm here!" John yells as he scampers towards the director; the distinct smell of pot hanging on his peasant garb.

"You reek man,"

John shrugs with a half sincere, "Well, yeah..."

"Just get out there in the stocks. We'll talk after!"

"Come on Mark, I'm fucking here aren't I?! Who cares if I..."

"Just...stop! I don't have time for this."

"You know I don't have any fucking lines right; I'm just in the back, looking at everyone's butt the whole play!"

"Just go!"

"My job could have been done by a mannequin!" John whispers angrily as Mark pushes him out onto the stage.

John begrudgingly enters the medieval prisoner stocks and hangs there, lifeless. He wished the pot would make him tired; maybe sleep through this shit but it didn't. It just made him tolerate it, which was just okay; but better than nothing.

The curtain goes up and the audience claps for the start of the show. A few players come out to begin, a man in a suit of armor and a regal king; they talk for far too long. John's head droops wearily; it was going to be a long night.

Waiting in the wings, off-stage, was Anastasia who gripped her stomach painfully, "Oh...God, that egg salad was a mistake..."

A stage hand rushes over, Ana immediately composing herself to presentable, "Five minutes, Ana."

"Thanks Freddy," she replies sweetly.

He nods and darts off to another cast member.

Ana, with difficulty, stands; there's a sharp pain in her stomach. She shuffles towards the stage; she breathes in once heavily, the pain subsides and she walks out onto the stage.

"I am here!" Ana shouts out her line.

"Back woman!" The king orders.

Ana's face cowers for the audience as she drops back towards the prisoner stocks. She bends over slightly and releases a long but silent gush of air from her butt. It's such relief but she hides it on her face; inside she's smiling wide.

John, head still drooped down, gets a scent of something. Then a big whiff and his head recoils back; he audibly gags. His shaking and commotion rattles the stocks loudly. Everyone on stage stops and looks for a half moment before returning to the play.

John recomposes himself, taking great pains to breathe through his mouth. He looks towards Ana and tries to whisper but he chokes on the rancid gas in his face, stopping himself each time her tries to open his mouth to speak.

Ana hadn't noticed, her attention was still focused on the king; remaining in the moment, like the good actress she was.

The toxic gas began to subside around John relaxed and settled back into his terrible position.

The king began to get rowdy, yelling; all part of the act.

"This is my command, it must be done!"


John heard those! Two loud enough farts flapped from Ana's ass while the king yelled at the other end of the stage.

Ana was in heaven, feeling the pressure quickly relieved off her stomach.

John, ironically, was in hell; practically watching the thick gas float towards him. It hit him and he coughed violently, almost like a smoker's cough; and he gagged. Ana noticed, now, everyone did.

The king ad-libbed, "You!" Pointing to Ana; "Gag the prisoner! He's disturbing the peace in addition to his long list of other crimes."

"No, no, please...," he whispered to Ana.

"I'm soo sorry John, " Ana whispered back as she tore a shred from her garment, unfortunately a shred near her butt, and shoved it into John's mouth.

Then, Ana maintained her mark, face towards the audience; but her butt was less than a foot from John's face now.


John smelled it several seconds later, a gassy, eggy blast that smelled rank; he moaned loudly at first. Everyone in the audience and the cast looked at each other, confused; unaware of what was happening to poor John.

He subtly sobbed so as to not disturb the audience or cast.

Ana almost cried but she didn't want to break character.

The play ended about a half-hour later; Ana immediately ran off stage, face buried in her hands as she sobbed openly. She did not even return for the final bow.

John removed himself from the stocks and went to the dressing room. The smell of egg farts still filled his nose; he crashed on the couch, tossing the blanket over his head.

Ana, sniffling, talked on the phone as she walked into the dressing room.

"I know, it's just so embarrassing and I really kind a..." Ana says as she takes a seat on the couch; unknowingly sitting on John's head.


"God, I can't stop..."

John, finally feeling the weight on his face, wakes and is immediately hit by a terrible aroma. He tries to breathe but the crushing force on his head makes it difficult as the gas just floats, wafting terribly in and out of his nostrils. John convulsed his body and flailed his arms; Ana rose up, terrified. She dropped her cell phone.

John emerged ripping the blanket from his face; the fart permitted through the material but clung there against his face like an 'infused' Dutch oven.

"Oh my God!" Ana yelled.

"What the fuck!?" John yelled, involuntarily, uncontrollably.

"I'," Ana couldn't continue; she sobbed and then cried profusely. She clearly looked like she wanted to die.

John sighed long and loudly, clearly upset, "'s...stop; it's fine."

"No, it's not! You're mad at and you'll never get over it!"

"I will, just...take it easy okay."

"I don't believe you."

"'t that...bad."


"No, I'm lying; it was pretty fucking awful but, whatever...natural right. Eggs, eggs, the more you...whatever..."

"I'm sorry John,"

"It's okay. Just...get checked out or something."

"Thanks." Ana said, hiding her insulted sarcasm.

Ana stood and they remained in place, in silence for a moment.

John began to walk towards the door, leaving the dressing room; he rubbed his head wearily and smelling something terrible of Ana's farts.

"Hey John?!"

"Yes?" John returned, peering around the corner.

"Do you...maybe, wanna go...out sometime?" She smiled innocently, as if nothing had transpired between them.

"No. Thank you but no," John said, immediately disappearing again.

Ana stood there, shocked and broken. A tiny squeaker escaped her.

John's face popped back in, "You know what, okay; sure, let's...oh God..."

"I'm sorry..." Ana said, rushing to John.

John pushes her away and heads back for the hall.

Ana pokes her head into the hall, "Are we still on for tonight?!"

He didn't respond right then; but by text, ten minutes later, saying: "Yeah we are."

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