Every time I dive into an intense ab workout at the gym, it leaves me with an unexpected and unwelcome side effect—explosive gas. And if my post-workout meal happens to be Chipotle, loaded with beans and rice, the aftermath is nothing short of volcanic. The potency is enough to singe nose hairs—his nose hairs, to be precise. The discomfort was unbearable, my stomach churning with cramps, and the stench so vile I couldn’t stand it myself. But that’s precisely why I have a partner in crime, isn’t it? Their role? To bear the brunt of my digestive misfires so I don’t have to. Returning home, I found them lounging on the couch, as usual. Without hesitation, I ushered them to the bench, strapping them in place. They tried to protest, but a reminder of the incriminating videos I’ve stored across multiple accounts quickly silenced them. Their mouth was about to become their worst enemy. Positioning my sweaty, post-workout posterior directly over their nose, I commanded them to inhale deeply while I settled into their Xbox, using the distraction to ignore their muffled whimpers beneath me. LOL. They obeyed, taking deep breaths as instructed, their groans punctuating each inhalation. To escalate the torment, I teased them with what awaited, gently pressing closer until I decided to remove my pink workout pants, ensuring their nose made full contact with my sweat-drenched core. The scent must have been overwhelming—they tried to escape, but the bench’s design held their head firmly in place, their nose trapped deep within my crevice. Attempting to relieve the pressure, I realized something more substantial was brewing. Only faint, fiery wisps escaped initially, but I wasn’t finished. Grabbing a plate, I prepared for what was to come, saving some for later. Lowering myself back onto their nose, I felt their struggle intensify. PFFFFTTT—a searing blast erupted, and my cramps began to ease. Still, I kept them submerged, allowing brief breaths between each new wave until something more substantial made its exit. OOPS! I repositioned, dragging my mess across their face, ensuring every trace was packed into their nostrils. How humiliating—this is what you get for arguing with me. A few more scorching bursts sealed the deal, their nose now fully loaded. Remembering the plate, I spread what remained over their lips, securing it with tights to ensure no escape. With my full weight, I ground my hips back and forth, amplifying their misery. Before concluding, I ensured their nose was utterly saturated, forcing every last bit into their airways. Now, their nose truly is FULL OF ASS.
