Oliver didn’t know how much time had passed. All he knew was he was he had spent several hours surrounded by old nail clippings and an inescapable stench. He wasn’t sure if he’d prefer to continue enduring it, or face the next task. The only thing he did know was that he would die if he didn’t escape Michelle. He spent hours crying through the night thinking about his future.

Miraculously, Oliver had managed to catch some sleep. His weakened body had effectively forced him to rest whether he liked it or not. His much needed sleep unfortunately came to an abrupt, smelly end.

*SSPPPPLLLLURRRGGGHHHHHHMMMPPFFF*

Oliver was violently awoken by a loud, drawn-out sound and a nasty stench. He stood up in panic only to slip over again over the mountain of toenails that surrounded him in every direction. The sound seemed to be getting louder, and the stench was definitely getting worse. He didn’t know what was happening, or what to do. In a panic he stood up again only to run straight into the wet inner walls of the jar and fall back down again on his back. It was then he finally realized what the unwelcome alarm was. He was looking up at Michelle’s asshole as she let out a long, stinky fart.

Michelle was laughing her head off. She wasn’t looking at the jar, but the thumps of Oliver’s movements offered her imagination more than enough to chew on.

“Wake up, slave!” she exclaimed through laughs she could barely contain, “you have another long day of serving me ahead of you, so let’s not waste a second!”

Stuck in a jar as the oxygen content diminished and was replaced with the putrid stench of the fart, Oliver’s eyes stung as if exposed to tear gas, and he found himself vomiting the chunky remains of chewed-up food Michelle fed him. Before he could collect himself after this most unwelcome expulsion of his innards, Michelle pulled him out.

Holding Oliver in her palm and giving him a cheeky smile, she raised her other arm above her head.

“See this pet? I need you to clean it.”

Oliver wasn’t sure what she meant by clean it. Despite the thick clump of hair coated in sweat, it seemed like an otherwise normal armpit.

“With your tongue… just like you did my feet. And remember your lessons from before. I want it done properly.”

Without wasting a second more, Michelle dove to her bed, and placed both arms on the back of her head, leaving Oliver beside the first armpit with an unpleasant task ahead of him.

Oliver looked upon the hairy pit. Much of it was matted and appeared as though it hadn’t seen a shower in months. What made it worse were small pieces of foreign materials that he couldn’t identify. Oliver approached it cautiously while his owner relaxed, unsure it he was meant to organise the hair into something that might resemble a normal human’s armpit, remove the other substances, or clear it of sweat. He didn’t want anything to do with any of it. Regardless, he pushed ahead. As he pressed his face it, he noted the fuzzy sensations across his skin. This was short-lived, as the scent became the more prominent sensory experience. The smell of Michelle’s armpit was like a smack in the face. Musky and oily with a slight hint of old spice. It wasn’t nearly as bad as her feet or her breath and burps, but unwelcome all the same. He pushed ahead with the dreadful task, trying his best to separate the near-dreadlock-like hair without yanking pieces of it out and angering his captor. Please come save me, Oliver thought desperately.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

It was the door. Michelle stood up, clamping her arms down and trapping tiny Oliver beneath the shoulder and deep in her armpit. His face was pressed against the sweaty skin, giving him a most unwelcome nose full of her vile body odour. The knocking had alarmed Michelle. She wasn’t expecting any visitors.

“Coming!” Michelle loudly said, sounding mildly concerned before turning her attention back to her slave. She lifted her arm up and freed Oliver from his sweaty prison. “Now you listen here, you fucking worm. I don’t know who’s on the other side of that door, but they aren’t gonna know you’re here. Nobody will. And on the off chance you somehow get to reveal yourself know this, bitch. I’ll kill you. I’ll crush your little head under my feet like a grape. I’ll drown you in a jar of my urine. I’ll throw you off the balcony and you’ll get to contend with your coming death during your long fall. So don’t cross me. Are we clear?!”

Oliver meekly kept still, saying nothing. He didn’t like Michelle when she was angry.

“ARE WE FUCKING CLEAR?!”

“Yes! Yes, we’re clear, goddess. I’m sorry!” Oliver was shaking. Her voice left his ears ringing in pain.

“Good. Now I’m gonna hide you. Keep your butt quiet.”

Michelle clamped her fist shut, squeezing tiny Oliver into an uncomfortable position as she considered the possibilities available. She didn’t want whoever was on the other side of the door to get suspicious. Then the idea popped into her head. Michelle pulled the elastic on the rear-end of her underwear and dropped Oliver down into the crack of her ass, letting it go with finger with a light snap.

Oliver didn’t need a description of where he was, and it was far worse than he could have imagined. Michelle’s butt might have provided plenty for a gentleman to grab hold of and enjoy, but the inner world of her underpants were as unkempt as any part of her body and life. The heat was bordering on impossible to bare, and the sweat of her skin and the fact these panties were at least four days overdue for washing contributed to a putrid atmosphere. He was stuck, sandwiched between her thick cheeks and surrounded by the scent of her crack. He tried to move his arms, but he was wedged in deep. It was like a vice-grip in there.

“One second!” Michelle said approaching the door. She opened it feeling mildly anxious. Unexpected visitors weren’t her favourite thing.

It was the police.

There were two officers. One of them in his 50s and sporting a thick moustache gave Michelle a welcoming smile.

“Excuse us for showing up like this, but is your name Michelle?”

Michelle’s heart started beating fast, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. “Y-yes I am. What can I do for you?”

“We received a missing person’s report. Your landlord Oliver hasn’t been seen for over 24 hours. Now we don’t wanna jump to conclusions, but we wanted to trace his last known movements. He sent his partner a text saying he was checking up on a tenant at this address. Would you be able to confirm this, Michelle.”

“Uh, yeah, Oliver did come by. I think that was around 11am? Maybe 12? To be honest I wasn’t really paying attention to the time. Oliver’s kind of a dick, you know?” Michelle laughed nervously. The officers were not so enthusiastic. “He, umm, he came by for a routine check on the apartment. He’s kinda nosey like that.

The officer took note of the disorderly state of the apartment. “Did he have anything to say about it?”

Oliver could hear the exchange from within the cheeks. He tried to pound his arms against Michelle’s fleshy butt in angry, desperately wanting for her to tell the truth but knowing well she never would. He wanted to shout with all his might, but his face was pressed against the inner wall of her crack and provided no avenue to make a sound. Here his potential rescuers were, and they had no idea he was crammed inside the butt of this vile, disgusting woman.

Michelle replied. “He said what he always says. To keep it clean, to not let dishes pile up, throw out my trash. He’s like a nagging father. I can clean this shit up when I move out. I’m living here, so I can live how I want.”

The officer nodded. “What happened after that?”

“He finished his usual lecture about paying the rent on time and then he left. He slammed the door behind him and left with a hush. He really upset me, officer. He made me cry. So if you see him could you please hit him with that?” Michelle motioned toward the officer’s truncheon.

The officer gave her a mildly sympathetic look. He wasn’t the kind of person that took kindly to arrogant people either, especially when they were the cause of his doing additional work. “I can’t promise that, but if we find him we’ll give him an earful too. A lot of people are worried about him.”

Michelle felt pressure building up in her belly. Still focused on the police, she remembered when Oliver was hidden. An opportunity presented itself. A very disgusting opportunity. Oliver could hear a rumble, but put it down to simply a hunger pang. And then…

*SSSSSPPPPPPLLLLGGGGHHHHFFFFFFFMMM*

Oliver was hit with the worst thing yet. Michelle’s slimy fart delivered straight from the source, with no distance at all between her anus and his helpless body. He felt himself coated in slimy moisture, and the gap between Michelle’s cheeks became mildly slippery with the lubrication. That said nothing of the smell however. Like anyone else, Oliver had been exposed to natural gas before, but never like this. He was convinced that the awfulness had reached a threshold of his sensory capability that couldn’t possibly be crossed. The smell was like being stuck in bog filled with manure, sulfur, and decomposing roadkill for 100 miles in every direction. His eyes teared up rivers. His natural instinct to start running away kicked in as he hopeless waved his limbs around as much (or as little) as he could aimlessly. Within seconds of exposure to the noxious fume, Oliver vomited up what little food was in his belly. There was no question. This was HELL.

“Oh, excuse me officers!” Michelle said with embarrassment. The two policemen couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in bewilderment. Michelle continued. “I’ve eaten something that hasn’t agreed with my belly. I really shouldn’t, but I just LOOOOVE the latest BBQ chicken special at Domino’s! I’ve had it 3 times this week.”

The two policemen were noticeably uncomfortable. “We’ll let you take care of yourself, miss. Thanks for your assistance.”

Michelle closed the door on the police, getting the feeling they had more questions, but excused themselves out of their own discomfort. The smell of the fart lingered within Michelle’s underpants. Oliver had heard the police leave, but could barely focus his attention on his would-be saviours leaving him. The sensory overload he was still experiencing was too much.

“I hope you liked that, slave!” Michelle teased. “Looks like someone is worried about you too! Don’t know why. I don’t take an interest in pathetic people myself! In fact, I’d kick them out of their apartments if it were up to me!”

Oliver couldn’t help but be reminded of the regret he was feeling. If only he just let Michelle’s not paying the rent on time slide. If only…

“So… I’m thinking of ordering Taco Bell for brunch. What do you think of that, toy? You’re gonna so much more than you bargained for!”

Michelle’s greasy Taco Bell farts. The thought horrified him, but he didn’t believe it possibly could be worse than what he was just hit with. Michelle had set an expectation of grossness so high that he didn’t think there was any way to surpass it. If there was any lesson to take home from any of this, it was that it could ALWAYS be worse. Oliver, still trapped in Michelle’s sweaty buttcrack, could do nothing more than cry in his own disgust and hope that the smell of the fart would leave soon. Though he had the feeling he’d get no such relief, especially an hour or so after Michelle finished her Taco Bell. He heard her making the call to get it delivered, and prepared himself as much as he could, but no amount of preparation would ever be enough for the horrors ahead.