You watch your mother and two younger sisters drive away from the window as you wish more than anything that you were there with them. You were dreading this weekend with your dad and his sadistic smelly schemes. What was it with him and making you suffer? He never lost a chance to torment you, especially since you turned 13. You knew it would only get worse with your mother gone. Suddenly, the all familiar smell hit you. It smelled of week-old sweat, and the odor of a silent fart. You slowly turn around and are terrified when you see your father standing right behind you, looking down at you, wearing nothing but white posers. Beyond his big, hairy pecs is his face, smiling down at you in a friendly manner, which you didn't trust at all.
"SO you ready for a fun packed week boy?!" Your father says as he performed a short pec dance.
"I've been waiting for this day, boy, I haven't showered in a while just for it?" your father then lifts his arm, smelling his armpit "Man, the smell of a real man after work!"
"Come on dad can we just hang out this week? Please! I don't wanna spend the next week smelling like your ass!" you say.
"Well this is going to be interesting isn't it?" said your father quite menacingly.
The next thing you know, your father lifts you up in a firemans carry and drops you on your bed. He gets on his knees, his ass filling your field of view, and lowers his ass until it is just a milimeter from your nose.
"A whole week, just me and you, boy!" He gladly gloats,
"Dad no! Please!" you beg,
He then lets out a long, powerful, and foul smelling fart right on your face. The hot wind eminating from his ass covers your face.
"S-stop it," you state very softly, the sound of your face barely making a sound over his fart.
As the foul gas continues to escape his manly rump, his ass lowers an inch, and the tip of your nose is now touching his butt crack as his gas walks right into your poor nostrils. As his ass begins to touch your lips, you moan in disgust, now tasting his gas as well.
He sighs with both relief and what seems to be pleasure, and gets off of you. You gasp for the clean oxygen, which still has some of your father's fart remnants lingering.
"Why do you always have to do that to me?!" you scream, "What did I do?"
Your father places a foot on you in a triumphant pose as you cough and cry from the stink and the embarrassment.
"Get used to it, boy, because now that those weak, crybaby females are gone, I've got a lot in store for you, your nose, your mouth, and every inch of skin on your pathetic body!" your father states as he laughs triumphantly while still stepping on you.
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