Closet Fetishist's Stories


Check Out the
Fart Fetish Podcast

Join Our Community

Click Here for

Click Here for


The Writing on the Wall (Abandoned)
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: 2007(?)

"Cheryl please...I just cannot do it. I don't want to be blamed for someone else to be subjected to this." "But John, honey, if you don't I will just do it myself and you will not get your freedom. At least if you do this, you will win somewhat." "Some win...," John muttered under his breath. "What was that?" Cheryl asked, the anger apparent in her tone. "Nothing." John walked into the bathroom and did what was required of him. He turned around and found Cheryl standing right behind him. "Oh SHIT! scared the hell out of me." She didn't say anything. She peered over his shoulder to see what he had done. "Good work John." John nodded and headed for the door but Cheryl intercepted him and stood between him and door. "Where do you think you are going?" "Wherever I said I am free remember?" "Yea, about that...." "Cheryl, you had promised!" "Oh and you will get it," Cheryl replied, with an evil look on her face and a smile to match. ", no please you can't! You said I would be free!" "You will be free, death is freedom isn't it?" She replied looking more evil, more scheming then she had ever looked before. John screamed out for help as Cheryl grabbed him but no one could hear his cries for help that were suddenly silenced. "Well it seems you are awfully insolent, calling me Cheryl, disobeying my commands, talking back; you asked for this end John. Enjoy it!"

Tim woke up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What day was it," he wondered and after some brief thinking he came to realize it was Sunday, his one and only day off every week. He showered, dressed, and prepared for a nice day of relaxing. He walked to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and then returned to the couch and turned on the TV. "...Tonight's top story, the body of a local man, John Diaggo, was found dead in the bathroom of a local bar..." "Sheesh...what is the world coming to," Tim interjected to the TV reporter. "...oddly no wounds or blood was found on the victim so police have yet to determine cause of death but it is assumed to be heart attack induced by alcohol consumption. We will have more on this case as it develops. Tina? Thanks Fred, in today's weather..." Tim tuned out and walked to get his coffee and start some breakfast.

It was about 2:00 p.m. when Tim got a call. "Hey's Phil." "Ah hey Phil, how have you been? Haven't seen you in a while." "I've been good, doing real good awfully busy with work but you know all about that don't you." "Ha ha...yea I sure do. So what's up man?" "Well, I was gonna head to Johnny's this evening for some drinks and just you know, hanging out, and I was wondering if you wanted to join me." "Johnny's Bar?" "That's the one." "I don't know, hanging out in a bar seems like it could get a little crazy." "Nah, I doubt it man. What have you got to do besides any ways?" Tim thought for just a moment. "Alright man, I'll go." "Sweet, see ya there!" "Yea, see ya man." Tim hung up the phone and danced around the kitchen, no lonely Sunday night tonight. Tonight he was going out.

Tim arrived at Johnny's at 6:30 p.m. only to meet Phil just outside, arriving at just the same moment. They both entered and took a seat at the bar. "What'll you boys have?" "I'll take a scotch," Phil said. "And for you?" "Just a Coke, please." Phil laughed, "Not much of a drinker are you Tim?" "No, never have been. Just never appealed to me ya know?" "No I don't actually." Tim laughed a little. For the next hour the two talked of the old days remembering the good times, old friends, and such. It was about 8:00 when Tim excused himself to the bathroom. He walked down the small corridor and entered the men's bathroom. It was not very clean but everything worked. As he washed his hands he noticed writing on the wall near him: "For a good time call Cheryl 555-555-0123" It was followed by three stars. He thought to himself, he had not had sex for quite while perhaps he should take a chance on this Cheryl I mean...she was clearly a good time, it was written on the bathroom wall. He memorized the number and went back to Phil at the bar. After 10 minutes of talking he pulled some nonsense excuse and left. In his car he dialed the number to this Cheryl. "Hello, Cheryl speaking." The voice on the other end was sexy and endearing. "Uh...yea, hi this is Tim and I was wondering if...." "Sure, Tim. Come on over and we'll have a grand old time." The woman gave him the address and hung up. Wow, that was almost too easy. Maybe I should be worried about this, Tim thought but he shrugged off the doubt and drove to the address.

He walked to the door and knocked. The door was answered by a beautiful woman wearing only a short skirt and tight shirt. "Come in, you must be Tom?" "Yes, thank you. I suppose you would be Cheryl?" "That would be correct." She shut the door behind him. "Please have a seat," Cheryl said, gesturing to the nearby couch. "Oh thank you." "Can I get you something to drink?" "No, no, I'm fine, thanks though." "Well I usually don't go right to business so let's talk a bit, fine?" "Oh yea, sure, yea no problem," Tim said, nervous as hell. He had done this kind of thing before but it never got any more comfortable. Any ways, the two talked for about a half an hour about each other, what they did for a living, you know...common stuff. It was a little later that Tim began to notice a stench around him that was making it difficult for him to breathe. He did not want to be rude but the smell was becoming more than he could handle. He assumed it was something she had on the stove. After planning it out in his head, he finally asked, "Do you smell something?" Cheryl sniffed the air and then recoiled her face; she must have smelled it too. "Whooo! Yes I do. I wonder what that is." She got up and as she passed in front of Tim but instead of walking by she 'accidentally' tripped placing her sizable ass right in his face and, as if it had been planned, she farted a loud, stinky fart right into Tim's face. He tried to escape the scent but it was too late, he was out like a light.

© The Fart Closet, All Rights Reserved.