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stinkfacestories · 2 years

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Something Awful

When you had won that radio contest, you had no idea the time you were in for.

The reward was straight forward: corner side seats for an Impact show, and a back stage tour after the show with one of the wrestler. Just your luck, you got Jake Something.

He was lively for having just done a fifteen minute match.

"And here are the lockers and benches. Don't mind the smell, that's just Jonah here." He slapped the ass of Jonah, who had been bending down in his equipment bag at the time.

"the hell man?" He said back.

"Your right. My bad. Go on bro, get revenge" Jake turned and thrust out his ass for Jonah to slap, but the big man just shook his head at Jake and left.

"Aw, don't leave me hanging. Come on. You finish it" Jake said.

He turned and aimed his ass at you. He was the only one who had yet to change out of his ring gear. He was glistening with cold sweat, and his shorts were so tight he must have been poured into them. He was still standing there waiting. You reached out and gave his cheek a light tap. It was like slapping a sponge. It was wet, and jell-o like.

"Weak," he said. "Keep the sweat. It's a souvenir"

The tour continued.

It ended with him showing you the tiny, talent bathroom. "We get the finest of facilities. Tiny sink, cracked mirror, and the piece du resistance, the toilet yours truly here took a monster shit in two minutes before his match" he looked at you, gauging your response. Not to his liking he kept going a step more. "We're talking a pipe clogging, king kong gorilla finger, mirror steaming dump."

That one did it. He saw you cringe a little. He smiled wide. He liked it.

"Where did they put you up. The contest I mean?" He asked.

You had been given a cheap motel room a few miles from the show.

"What? Shit. Fuck that place. Come back to my room. It's three blocks away and in a ..." He trailed off, absentmindedly pulling his shorts from his crack. "Well this hotel is also a shit hole, but it's a nicer shit hole than where they shoved you. Come on"

You thought about it

"come aaaawn" Jake said. "I got a boring night ahead of me. We can change that. You want me to beg?" He looked at the ground. The floor was wet. The sink, you noted, was dry. Eagerly, Jake dropped to the ground, his hands and knees splashing in. "Come on, be my roomie for the night" he brought his soaked hands up, begging you.

What could you say? You agreed.

"Fuck yeah!" He said. He sniffed his hands as he stood up. He put a heavy hand on your shoulder, gleefully wiping it on your shirt. "Good news bad news: good news is we're gonna have a great night. Bad news: I don't think that water on the floor"

You could tell his hotel room was going to be a mess as soon as the door opened. It was a suite with a kitchenette. Cans lay open and dripping on the counter: refried beans, spam, Manwich mix, black beans, red beans, and kidney beans. Three cans of jalapeno and cheese flavored slime rounded it out.

"Help yourself to some leftovers if you want, I gotta piss real quick" he said before turning into the bathroom.

You moved to the stove. There was a pot of brown and vaguely yellow sludge on the stove. It was ice cold and congealed, with large chunk of spam floating around in it.

"Trust me, it taste just as good as it looks" Jake says from the bathroom. He had left the door wide open. Just seconds later you hear a thunking splash as he lets out an exaggerated moan. "Augh, that's the stuff." He says. There was no way that was real. It sounded like someone has turned a hose on and was filling a pickle bucket from forty feet in the air. "Wait, wait, wait, wait" Jake spurted out. Suddenly the bathroom rang out with a short, deep, growler of a fart. "There it is. Can't have a rainstorm without a little thunder, right?"

He came out. No sounds of washing, no flush. He went straight for the slop on the stove.

"Not hungry? Eh, more for me then" He grabbed a tub of sour cream that had been sitting on the counter for who knows how long. He dumped it in. He mixed it in and the slop took on a softer brown color. Without hesitation he grabbed a spoon and began to shovel it in his mouth, not caring how badly it was smearing around his face. "This is my go to road meal. Just dump it all in a pot and you can eat for three days"

Suddenly how he smelled made sense. He still hadn't changed. His sweat had dried into a crusty salty layer.

"I like to watch some anime when I get back. Lets see what's on" He said. He punched you in the shoulder and lead you over to the small couch. It was a three seater, but the far side was taken up by a small punching bag. Jake told you he travels with it wherever he goes, so he can get some workouts in whenever he wants. He sat you down in the middle seat. There you were, a punching bag on one side, and a reeking Jake Something on the other. He put his arm around the back of the couch like he was your date at the movies. Only he looked like he did it just to expose his sloppy, hairy pits. He had to be doing this on purpose. How could he not know what this smelled like. His pit was right at your head level too. If you leaned to the side your head was likely to get stuck under his arm.

he turned on the tv. Old School, original Dragonball had been cued up. Specifically the section where Krillin fought against Bacterian. On the screen, a big, fat, hairy fighter who delighted in using his stench to win his matches. To your left, a big, hairy, wrestler, who was giving off a smell that could wilt fake flowers. It was like looking into an animated mirror.

"Fuck yeah, I love this part" He hit play and you watched him gleefully fidget as the larger fighter punished the smaller, he was particularly fond of when this big man sat on the smaller and farted. "Slick fucking move, right?" He rewound the scene and played it again.

"I've always wanted to do that, but I can't find anyone willing to take the bait." He took two beers from behind the couch. He cracked one open, took a sip, then handed it to you before opening the other for himself.

You weren't too sure what he was talking about.

"I'll play it out for you. So it's near the end of the match. I slam my opponent down, face up, on the mat. I go to drop on them but plot twist: they catch my ass and hold me off. I call out to the crowd. Maybe a fan or a plant. I hold out my finger and ask them to pull it. Then I make this face." He grunted, then made an over exaggerated sigh. "You know, so the crowd knows I just cut a beefer. The guy underneath me faulters, then boom. My ass drops on his face".

He drained his beer and crushed the can in his hand. He looked a bit sad. "No one's ever agreed to do it. Probably because I would" he let out a wet and sonorous belch. "I wouldn't fake the farting."

You choked on your beer.

"See you get it. Farting is awesome. Funny I mean. You know. It's funny. I fart all the time in the ring. Refs call me 'Jake Something—must have died in his ass because God damn that reeks'" he said.

The big greasy boy looked sad again. "I guess not letting me play out being bacterian is the price I have to pay for all those locker room farts, and ring farts, and hotel elevator farts..." He trailed off.

He looked to vulnerable. You reached out and put your hand on his shoulder. It was sticky. The sweat had cooled into a slime like coating. You assured him he'd find someone.

"Would you do it?" He said, looking down at you.

You were no pro wrestler. You doubted you could even pretend well enough to fool the crowd at a local show, let alone a packed impact event.

"No we can do it here. In the room. Right now. No need to worry about getting in the ring in front of anyone."

How could you say no to him. He was so genuinely begging you with those big, stinky, puppy dog eyes. No one had to know about it, and who would even believe you if you told them anyway.

"Fuck yeah let's do it" Jake said. He got up and began moving the junk to the edge of the room. He pulled the bed from the wall for easy access. He propped his phone up on the nightstand and stood before you.

"Don't worry, I'll try not to break you" he said

Before you could say anything it was on. Jake wrapped his arm around your head, specifically forcing your nose into his juicy pit. "Oh and Jake opens with a Pits of Hell, aw man I'd hate to be the guy trapped in there" Jake roared, playing the part of the color commentator. He whispered for you to pretend like it reeked.

You didn't have to pretend. His pits were like wet, aged blue cheese. Pungent and salty.

Your slammed down as Jake pins you to the bed. He grabs you by the hair and holds your face to his. He contorted, then let out a deep, slow belch onto your face. Your stomach turned. It was sour from the beer, but at the same time beefy from his homemade slop.

"How is he still standing after a blow like that. Jake's not gonna like this, he's gonna unleash his most potent weapon!" Jake slammed you to the bed again. This time on your back. You had just enough fight left in you to reach up and hold off Jake's ass from falling on your face. Your hands clutched his wet, sweaty cheeks. You could feel the heat radiating from them as your hands sunk in. For such an athletic guy his ass sure was supple. "What's this?" Jake said, continuing his color commentary. "He's holding his finger out to the fans. He's asking someone to pull it. My god, no, that poor man under him. Jake don't do it!" But he did. He pulled at his own finger.

Bellow you saw his shorts quiver as he cheeks flexed and belched forth the toxic miasma from with in. It sounded like a wet balloon blowing a raspberry in your face, but smelled like the inside of the only working portable toilet at a construction site on a ninety seven degree summer day. It would be over soon. Your arms buckled and Jake's screaming asshole fell towards you.

It stopped short.

Your arms had locked at the shoulders and were propping the foul haunches up just a few quarter inches from your face. Your nose delicately tickled the fabric that stretched across the valley of his ass— a valley now being forced apart by your own hands.

He was caught off guard. You were supposed to go weak and be smothered between his bulging man mounds. He growled happily. "Oh so that wasn't enough? Well if your asking for it, Jake's got a little something for you"

His filthy hand reached towards your face. His salty, and tangy two middle fingers found your lips and shoved there way to the back of your mouth. You felt like gagging, but that may have just been the smell. With his other hand he reached under your head and softly began rubbing your face across his crack. He gave a soft moan. "Yeah I bet you hate this. I don't care if you dont, it works better for me if you hate it"

You didn't love it, that's for sure.

Jake was quiver. His words were strained. Strained like a man who was holding back his lusty ardor for the sake of making it last longer. "You know I just to a... Oh God" he ground his as deeper into your face as he choked on his words. "I took a big. No huge — monstrous. King Kong sized shit right before we sat down. I didn't wipe. I didn't think your face would be. Fuck. Your face is right where my nasty hole is"

He choked on his own lust. "Wait wait. Here it comes. On my count start sniffing. If you don't, I swear by Rikishi and saint Big Show I will shove your head up my ass." You could hear him foaming at the mouth. He started to count down. With each number he called out he quivered a little more. When he reached zero he pressed your face deeper into his ass. "Now now now!" He shouted. He twitched one final time before his guts spasmed. His asshole opened up and let out a wet growl. It was a beastly fart. You could feel it rattling his insides as it slowly belched it's caustic brew over your face. It was so thick you could feel it washing over you. Fearing what he might do, you sniffed deeply. Oh how you wished you hadn't. It smelled like a dairy barn at the peek of summer. It was the type of foul that you could never get used to. It burned your nose and soured your stomach. You're eyes watered and rolled back into your head. For a moment you thought that this was it, death by fart.

But you lived.

Jake let go of your head and let you drop onto the bed. He fell backwards, spent, he lay looking up at the ceiling.

"Someone call the Ghostbusters because I think I slimed myself on that one"

You tried to breath, but the air was no less fresh in the room. You may never get the smell of Jake's ass out of your nose. This was your world now. "Your good." Jake said. "I'm gonna talk to some people and get you some season tickets. No, life time backstage passes. This is better than any massage i've had after a match. Total relaxation. I'm gonna introduce you to Big Show, Rikishi, Kevin Owens, Mark Henry Aw there gonna love you. "

This really was your world now. You couldn't escape. You were just going to be past between wrestlers one after another, sat on, gassed, and worse. All because you had to enter that radio contest. "There gonna fucking looooove you"

#something awful #Jake Something #Stinkface #Face Fart #stinkface #farting #stinkface stories #fart

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