Lucky was in dreamland… reliving his epic celebration of finally completing the near-impossible task of earning the title of Grandmaster.
He dreamed of the long, tedious hours he’d dedicated to his favorite video game, League of Legends—but most of all, to the art of the grind. He dreamed about the past and all the sacrifices he’d made, of both time and energy. But one stood out from all the rest, something he had sacrificed a long time ago… his hygiene.
Take the countless pairs of underwear whose sole purpose was catching all of the bottom-heavy femboy’s scorching-hot, reeking anxiety farts and raunchy sharts. They almost seemed like companions, aiding him in his conquest and his goal of mastering his playstyle.
At the end of every major game moment, he would find himself standing in front of his full-length mirror, admiring himself—his messy brown hair and green highlights.
Then he would gaze down at whatever underwear had been with him for that gaming session. Like all the rest, these had met the same fate: absolutely soaked in sweat from their own battle beneath his methane-combusting ass, showing off their shit-stain “scars” and oozing fumes from the back like a freshly fired cannon. It was tradition. He only ever retired a pair if he found himself on a losing streak, believing they had lost their luck.
The dream suddenly morphed around him. Now he was standing on a huge stage, lights shining down on him, as someone handed him a trophy with “Grandmaster” emblazoned across the base.
All he could hear and see was cheering and the flashing of cameras as he looked out at the crowd. Lucky recognized most of them as his peers—people who had doubted him in the past and said he couldn’t pull it off.
Looking away from the crowd, he saw himself projected on several giant screens, all from different camera angles, displaying Lucky in all his glory: his signature Twitch attire, the skunk ears pulled down over his head, and the black crop-top outfit.
The screen he couldn’t stop focusing on, though, was the one showing his plump backside, the black-and-white skunk tail hanging off his “Grandmaster”-winning underwear. They looked like they had seen hell itself… twice over, if that was even possible. The fabric had faded from its original black, and it was caked in green and brown sludge lines going every which way. His skid marks had skid marks!
On the adjacent screen, showing the front of his underwear, Lucky noticed he was sporting quite the boner. A grin crept across his face. And why shouldn’t he be aroused? This was his moment, and if he wanted to feel it on a sexual level, who was going to stop him? His eyes moved to the screen showing his face. His cheeks were flushed, his bangs hung down almost to his eyes, and his plush lips had a nice, shiny coat of green lipstick. He looked cu… scratch that. He looked hot!
Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he glanced back at his “ass-cam.” Something was moving in the middle of the back of his undies. Looking closer, he made out the outline of… a person? They seemed to be trying to push their way out of the confines of his “lucky” undies. The fabric contorted, taking on the features of a face, its mouth open in what could only be described as a silent scream…
Then a hand began to take shape, reaching out into a—thumbs up? That was when it dawned on Lucky: his last session had been different somehow. Like he was missing something. Like there had been something—or better yet, someone—else who had helped him get there. His ultimate good luck charm, supporting him through his trials.
Focusing so hard on who he was trying to remember set off a rumble in his intestines. A warm pressure began to build and build, moving down into his huge, chunky butt and making his asshole pucker, hot to the touch from holding back the gas flowing through his bowels and wanting nothing more than to be released… and then… Lucky opened his eyes.
BBBBBLLLLLLLLUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRTTTT!!
Back in the real world, Max had finally freed himself from Lucky’s mouth. He came loose with a resounding pop, free-fell backward, bounced off Lucky’s chin and landed with a wet splat right on the femboy’s chest, his face completely caked in slime. He wiped the thick fluid away.
Max gasped, taking his first breath in what felt like forever. His relief at being free of the giant femboy’s moist mouth was short-lived. A second later he was coughing violently: the huge fart that had erupted in Lucky’s dream had happened in reality, too. It had been trapped under the covers, but, finding the path of least resistance, it had flowed upward and seeped out the top of the blanket—exactly where the three-inch freshman was now sitting. The spicy aroma of old cheese, refried beans and bong water spilled out and invaded his whole body. Coughing uncontrollably and thrashing around, the tiny could only think that he should have taken his chances and kept up his makeshift sloppy make-out session with…
“Wha…? Lil dude? What… are you doing down there, bro?”
Max froze, then slowly looked up into Lucky’s sleepy but very much awake eyes. This was bad. Very bad. Here he was, naked and covered in a lube-like substance. He needed to play this cool so he didn’t raise any more suspicion.
“Uhh… h-hey… L-Lucky… um, it’s… it’s not what it looks like! You see, I couldn’t sleep, and then yo— whoa!” Lucky’s grimy fingers had closed around him. He was peeled slowly off Lucky’s chest, leaving a clump of slime behind, and brought up until he was eye-level with the giant femboy’s face.
Lucky’s eyes were heavy and half-closed. He probably wasn’t fully conscious yet, which worried Max.
“I can barely hear you, bro. You gotta speak up.” Lucky’s voice was a little deeper from just waking up. His eyes narrowed even further as he peered at Max and noticed that his pecker was hard. “Oh… I think I know what’s going on.” He brought Max a bit closer to his face, his familiar sour breath washing over the shrunken freshman. “Suffering from a case of blue balls? I’ve been there, man. It’s never a good time,” he slurred.
Max looked down. His rod was still at half-mast from his up-close encounter with Lucky’s lips, still coated in dried slobber, and his face went red with embarrassment. Lucky seemed to notice and quickly added, “Hey, it’s alright, dude. I’m not mad at you or nothin’.”
Rolling onto his side, Lucky set a confused Max down beside him on the pillow. “I just know some people find it a little rude to come onto someone while they’re still asleep… I like the initiative, though.” He shot Max a sleepy wink that sent shivers down the freshman’s spine. Max didn’t want to give Lucky the wrong impression. Sure, he wasn’t ugly or anything—Max actually thought he had a cute face—but he didn’t want to lead him on by making him think he was putting the moves on him. He decided to just try to defuse the situation he’d gotten himself into. “S-sorry about that, L-Lucky. If you want to go back to sleep… I won’t bother you anymore,” he said, unsuccessfully trying to cover his awakened manhood with his hands.
Lucky flashed a smile full of grimy yellow teeth, seeming to enjoy the miniguy’s struggle to hide his climbing arousal. Then he felt a twinge in his own underwear and noticed, curiously, that he was pretty hard as well. Right then, images from his dream came flooding back, and he remembered everything—how, before he woke up, he’d been trying to remember his “Lucky person.” He refocused on Max… and it all clicked.
How could he have missed it? His trusty costar was also his lucky charm! When Lucky had proposed his idea of going back in his ass, Max could have said no, after already experiencing what that big ol’ stinky booty could do. But he’d agreed. Sure, he’d done it for his own reasons, but they weren’t guaranteed—like Lucky had said, he’d never seen anyone grow back after getting dosed with shrinking serum. So he must have done it for the sake of the winning streak… he must have been too afraid to say how he really felt. Now that was dedication to the grind! Glancing at Max’s cock, Lucky knew they could both go for some release, and it would be the perfect way to give the little guy his “reward” for all his hard work.
Max was exhausted. He smelled terrible. He just wanted to go back to sleep, wake up, get taken to the health center, return to normal, and pretend that none of it—getting sat on, getting farted on, not to mention getting to first base—had ever happened. Instead, here he was, getting hard over this slobby femboy’s disgusting bodily functions and fluids. He was jolted out of his thoughts when Lucky started to move again.
Lucky sat up a little and propped his head on his hand. “Ya know, bro, maybe we can take care of each other. I’ve always lived by the rule that you shouldn’t go to bed angry, hungry, or—most importantly—horny.” He slipped a couple of fingers on his other hand into his mouth and pulled them out with a slurp. They were glistening with a fresh coat of spit.
Without warning, Lucky reached forward. Max flinched and covered his face, not knowing what was coming—then gasped in shock as he felt warm, wet pressure close around his dick.
Looking down, he saw that Lucky had gently pinched his dick between two wet fingers underneath and his thumb on top, making a sort of human-finger pocket pussy. Without missing a beat, he started gently moving back and forth, and Max let out a low moan. Fuuuuck, that feels good, he thought. His dick got harder under the expert pressure of those fingers as they coated his groin in a fresh layer of spit. “See? Doesn’t that feel better already?” Lucky said soothingly, as his other hand disappeared under the covers to service his own member. Up above, Lucky’s face took on a strained look, and then…
BBBBRRRRTTT!!!
“Oops! Sorry, lil guy, that one kinda snuck outta me. Sorry if it… well, well, what do we have here?” Lucky’s smile returned to his flushed, rosy-cheeked face. “Are you… getting harder?” He could feel Max’s member stiffen even further between his fingers.
Max was short of breath. In a matter of seconds he was already close to busting his nut. He tried to focus, to talk himself down from coming. Why am I so fucking hard? It’s not like I enjoy Lucky’s farts… right? Of course not! But every ragged breath brought in a fresh supply of Lucky’s signature stink—cheese, weed and swampy, sleep-warm ass. Breathing too fast to even cough, his eyes watering, he realized he wasn’t getting enough oxygen; he was basically suffocating on the thick fumes, and the adrenaline only pumped more blood into his raging boner. I can’t cum, he thought. If I cum, what will Lucky think? That I’m some kind of fart-huffing freak?
Which was exactly what Lucky thought. He was in shock: not only had his lil guy gotten harder from his farts, he seemed to be huffing them down like they were going out of style. It really turned Lucky on. No one had ever shown this much interest in his farts—at least, not in such a positive way. It almost made him feel powerful. Appreciated. He beamed at his squirming little costar. “I knew you were a little freak,” he whispered down to Max. Halting his mini handjob, he leaned back against the wall, pulling his knees up into what could only be described as a “giving birth” pose.
Max fell to his knees, finally able to slow his breathing. Lightheaded and dizzy from all the methane clogging his lungs, he couldn’t think straight. With that much stimulation coursing through his body, he couldn’t even form a sentence—only the all-purpose filler word “yeahh,” before he realized what he’d just agreed to. From above, the femboy’s hand wrapped around him. “I think it’s about time we swap. I don’t want you blowing your load too soon.” Lucky glanced at the clock on the nightstand: five in the morning. “We’ve got plenty of time to drag this out a little longer.” And he started bringing Max down.
Too overstimulated to say anything, or to ask what Lucky meant by “swap,” Max was plunged through the small opening under the covers into darkness. The first thing he noticed was the atmosphere under the canopy-like blanket: it was like the rainforest exhibit at a zoo. The humidity clung immediately to his already-damp body, but the smell stole the show. Max had been feeling confident that he was building up a tolerance to Lucky’s fumes, but that went out the window. He realized he’d only been getting the small doses that found their way out. In here, it was a concentrated gas chamber. Gagging hard, he noticed his member was still hard. What is wrong with me? he thought. Then his descent slowed until he stopped completely.
“Alright, dude. I started this off giving you some pleasure, so now I think it’s your turn to return the favor. And I think the best way you can help me is…”
Please someone choose the cock vore path