A sly smirk makes its way across Wayne's obnoxious face as he reaches down and wraps his digits around you. "All those times you complained about my farting in the living room.. I'm gonna make you eat every word. You're gonna sniff my farts for as long as I tell you too -- and with that chilli burrito I ate for lunch, who knows how long that's going to be.." Wayne pats his stomach, which grumbles from beneath a faded old Metallica shirt. "..and you're going to tell me how good it smells, until I'm all outta gas and you've truly learnt to accept just how GOOD your big bro's farts smell."
You want to beg for mercy as Wayne dumps you on your bed and squats over you, but you know there's no point. His huge, denim-clad butt casts an ominous shadow over you. You hear a deep grunt issued from above, and seconds later, a warm wind starts to hiss out onto you. The wind gets hotter, louder, and the unimaginably horrible stench of your big brother's bowels envelops you. You gag, your eyes watering, your throat closing, and Wayne turns his head to make sure you're obeying his orders.
"Sniff it, runt!! I told you to sniff my fuckin' farts!! Do it now or I'll make your life even more miserable!!"
You can barely percieve what your tyrranicla big brother's saying to you, so strong is the hold his gas has over your mind. You choke like a bug being exterminated, the slimey, raunchy scent of Wayne's fart finding its way into your nostrils and throat in every second.
You'd better pull it together and make Wayne happy, if you don't want that extra punishment..
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