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Stepmother
Author: Closet FetishistWritten: May 20th, 2015
I race back home as fast as I can. I have no idea what's going on but the sooner I can get back, the sooner I'll know.
I rush through the door and yell out, "Dad?!"
"Daniel? In here, hun." I hear my step-mother's voice from the other room.
In the living room, Monica sits, laid out on the couch, clearly relaxed; it pisses me off, where's my dad?!
"Hi Monica...you said there was something going on with dad?"
"Oh...no, I just said that to get you home."
I'm stunned and furious, "What? Why would you do that, I was really worried something had happened," I do my best to hide my anger.
"Yeah, well, you'll get over it," she says, sitting up finally.
I growl a little under my breath, "So what did you want so badly?"
She takes a dramatic moment, "I wanted to talk; sit down," she pats the couch in a spot next to her.
I take a seat.
"I know you and I haven't gotten along since your dad and I got married. I wanted to change that."
"I don't know if this was a good first step."
"Maybe not. Maybe I have some things to learn but, then again, so do you."
"How so?"
"Well, see, you...as my step-son, or son if I prefer, you need to learn your place."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Don't use that kind of language to me," she snaps. "Now, bring your head down here," she says as she puts her hand on the back of my neck and pulls me down to the seat of the couch. "Now breathe; what does it smell like?"
I can't help but take a big whiff as she forces my nose up against the fabric of the couch; it smells rotten, like expired milk or something.
"I asked you what it smelled like, Daniel."
Struggling, I answer, "It smells like shit, what do you mean?!"
"No, that's not good enough; describe it."
"Let me the fuck go!"
She releases my head and I fall back towards the arm of the couch.
"You've got a long way to go."
"Stay the fuck away from me; I'm telling my dad." I start to scramble off the couch.
"Are you? Because who do you think he'll believe? He's misbehaved son? Or a hot young thing like me? What do you think?" She says, smiling now.
"I don't think..."
"Oh, but I do...I think you're dad will do anything I tell him to. If I tell him to give me a couple thousand dollars, he'll do it without blinking an eye. And if I tell him his bratty little son needs to go to a boarding school, he'll do it. And I know just the one too; it's all girls but I think I can get you in as their live in servant, how would you like that?"
"You're fucking nuts."
"Perhaps. But the fact still remains that you have two choices here. You do what I ask or you do what sixty other girls ask; what's your choice?"
I seriously consider it for a moment but maybe if I stuck around, dad would eventually see her for the bitch she is. I could only hope.
"What do you want me to do, Monica?" I ask, deflated.
She smirks but it's short lived, "Okay, well lets start with how you address me. I think you'll call me mom from now on, understand?"
I get a little upset, "You can't make me call you that."
"Oh, I think I can; it's what I want after all. Let's try it, say 'Yes, mom.'"
I stare at her with angry eyes.
She smiles back, "Say, 'Yes, Mom,'" she says like talking to a new baby.
"Yes, mom," I die a little inside as the words leave my lips.
"That's fantastic! I may change it later but you'll call me mom for now. Okay, now, back to the couch; you can crawl there."
I roll my eyes and get on my hands and knees, crawling to the couch; Monica takes a seat while I stay on the floor on my hands and knees.
"Now, the whole point of you smelling the seat was for you to tell me it smelled like farts or eggs. See, because mostly, you're going to be my fart slave."
What? The words struck me. But what the fuck even is that?
She pats the couch next her; I assume for me to sit down.
I rise to sit but she pushes on my shoulders and just lays my head back on the couch, right near the crease between two cushions. She brushes the hair from my face as she stands, then turns revealing no underwear under her long dress.
My eyes widen with fear as her butt, bigger from this angle, descends upon my face, burying my nose between her cheeks.
She sighs, relaxing, "I've thought about this for so long, it's exhilarating to finally be doing it."
Below her, I repeatedly inhale the musky, warm air between her cheeks; moaning softly from the lingering smell of what must have been a nasty shit.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrraaaaauuuuuuuuupppppp!
Suddenly, it's like I'm paralyzed, my mouth hangs open but not inhaling; my body practically frozen until forced to breathe in the noxious gas from point blank range. Immediately I couch and choke the potent fumes.
"Awww, that's a good boy, take all of mommy's gas," she snickers.
Desperately I try to free my head from under her but either she keeps moving or I'm just stuck as I take strained breaths of unrelenting fart smell; I whimper, practically crying.
She laughs, "Oh god, this is exactly as much fun as I thought it would be." She leans forward, sticking her butt out further into my face.
PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAaaaaaapppppp!
My head shakes wildly, trying eagerly to get away somehow, or maybe just fan away the smell with my head but it was no help as the gas quickly rushes up my nostrils, filling my brain and making me lightheaded and nauseous; I barely have the energy to gag though I definitely want to.
Finally, she gets up, keeping her butt in my face for as long as possible; she has a wide smile on her face as she looks down at me. "That's enough for now; your dad will be home soon, I should probably cook him a nice dinner. You go get washed up," she practically skips away with glee.
Bitch. Slowly, weakly, I rise from between the two couch cushions, my head still dizzy from the gas. I stand and slump my way upstairs, into the shower.
Of course Monica doesn't make dinner, I don't think she knows how to cook. The delivery guy comes and I pay him. As I close the door, Monica is practically right behind me.
She takes the food bag from me and sets it on the small table nearby; I start to head back for the stairs to my room but she grabs me by the hair and pulls me down to my knees. She stuffs my face up her rank backside, thankfully though the dress this time; I only get the strongest of the terrible smell. God I already feel dizzy.
"You're going to tell your dad I made this, understand? You're going to tell him it's delicious and you're going to call me mom in front of him, got it?" She demands; as she speaks she releases a long, silent but deadly fart which blows my senses haywire but somehow I manage to understand what she says and nod.
She grabs my hair tighter, rubbing my face against her butt hole before releasing me again to fall to the ground; desperately trying to catch my breath.
At dinner, I'm very quiet. Dad seems happy as usual, making the occasional joke which Monica pretends to get.
"This food is really delicious, is this that diner place?"
Monica kicks me under the table.
"Urm...uh, dad, did you know that Monica made the dinner," I say, as robotically as I can; fuck this bitch.
Dad doesn't take the bait, "Wow, really? This is delicious; I didn't know you cooked."
"Oh yeah, absolutely I cook; I'm like the greatest cook."
I interject, "Yes, it is delicious; thank you...urm...mom."
My dad seems flabbergasted, why couldn't he just get it... "Daniel, that's, I'm very proud of you son; that's very respectful to address Monica as your mom. I know that's something that she was hoping you'd come around to; I told her you'd do it on your time." Dad smiles proudly, almost looking like he's going to cry.
"Yeah." I practically whisper under my breath.
I see Monica smile wide as she looks down into her salad, obviously enjoying her wins.
That night, Monica and dad's sex is overly loud; I hear Monica repeatedly moaning, almost like she's yelling to me on purpose. Fucking bitch.
It's a struggle to get to sleep but at some point I finally nod off.
Then I feel a rough force against my face; a slap!
My eyes fly open and are immediately greeted by an unfortunately familiar sight.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAaaaaauuuuuuuuuuupppp!
Monica's ass bellows out a massive ripper over my face as she sits down and seals it in with me; she sighs, "That's much better; I knew I had a big fart and I didn't want to waste it and disturb your dad."
Under her, I'm desperately trying to claw out from under the putrid vegan diet farts she pumps out; coughing and gagging all at once as she assaults my nose with pure methane.
Maybe if I yell out, dad will hear me! I scream muffled screams under her; I hear her strain and...
FFFFFFRRRRRrrruuuussssssspppppp!
Everything stops as mom sprays my mouth with...oh, god...I think it's shit; I think she just shit in my mouth!
BRRRRRRRRrrrrrpppp!
She farts again as she lifts her butt from my face and gets off my bed but grabs me by the neck, choking me.
"If you try to scream again, it's going to be more than a little diarrhea down your throat; understand?" She squeezes harder.
I desperately nod.
She pulls my head down to lay sideways and sits on it.
PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrruuuupppp!
I moan out, too loud at first, then more softly as her hot gas spreads over my face like a hot, disgusting wind; my neck strained in this position until she finally gets up, heading for the door.
Near the door, her hand on the switch she looks to me and smiles, "Good night, sweetie," she laughs to herself as she turns off the light.
The moonlight shines in my otherwise dark room. I'm fucked.