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Hot Seat
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: November 26th, 2010

"Alright class, welcome back. I'm sure you're stomachs are nice and full after lunch; I know mine is," the sexy, middle-aged teacher says, "I had a nice meal of chili dogs with ground cabbage and sauerkraut."

Ms. Douglas moans and bites her lip softly as her students exchange glances of terror.

"So, who's turn is it in the hot seat?"

No one speaks; even with all their snooty, bitchy, whiny, nerdy, jocky personalities clashing not one could sell out another in such a fate. It would be the teacher's list that would decide.

"Ah, Douglas; please join me up here."

Douglas whispers to Henry, his friend, "Dude, I didn't do the reading at all. I'm totally boned."

"Just try to fake it."

"I can't dude; it's all historical and shit."

"Douglas! Now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Douglas approaches the teacher's sitting box and lies down on his back. Ms. Wilson closes the box, sealing the young boys head in the box. Then she sits, her crack consuming the boys nose the allowable amount to avoid sexual harassment charges; the rules being very specific.

"I took the liberty of not wearing panties today," she says, laughing. "How does my ass smell, Douglas?"

She rises off the boys face for a moment so he can respond coherently, "It smells like rotten eggs."

"That's incorrect," she declares as she grabs her leg, splitting her cheeks and letting fly a rude, airy fart.

Then, with her evil smile she sits and smothers the boy under her ass and putrid fart. The boy twitches to try to escape but the prison holds him as he rattles violently against the little box before his fight slowing and stopping.

Ms. Douglas removes the unconscious boy and places him on his desk. Around him, his classmates gag on the second hand smell and think about the horrors of facing it head on.

"Okay, I see that Martin is next."

Martin rose from his seat confidently but not with pride; this, like any other day, was a fight to stay conscious. The horrors of remaining unconscious at the end of class are unfathomable; all the students fight to avoid it but it's every student for themselves at the end of the period.

Martin lies down and closes the box himself; he gags a bit on the remainder of the last bomb the teacher dropped. Then her ass came; it reeked of the fresh monster.

"Okay Martin, let's see if you can do better. How's my ass smell?"

" fine perfume," he said, dryly.

"Good, that's  a good answer. Now, let's see, the reading...okay, an easy one; who kills Hamlet's father?"

"His brother, Claudius."

"Right. Okay," her stomach, gurgles loudly, "I need a tough one...quickly...oh, okay, try this one on for size: who's bones did Hamlet and Horatio stumble upon in the bone yard?"

" Uh...Hamlet's father?"

The teacher smiles as she sits down, encasing Martin's look of terror behind her sizeable ass.


Martin starts screaming.

Ms. Wilson punches him in the stomach.


The poor boy, robbed of oxygen must breathe in pure poisonous methane as he passes on to dreamland.

She puts the boy back, the room is practically choking of fart air now.

"I think we have time for one more," Ms. Wilson declares, not checking the clock but feeling her stomach and laughing. The cruel bitch.

"Roger, you're up."

I get up and take the long walk to the front of the room; it seems like ages as I got closer and closer to the epicenter of the toxic waste.

She stops me before I get in, " got a nice big nose don't you; and big nostrils." She takes a finger from her butt and sticks it in my nostril; it smells like shit but then, that's obvious that it would.

I get in the box and watch her perfect, sexy, naked ass coming down on me. I gag on the smell of putrid vegetables as my nose goes up her crack.

"It's in there nice and good," she says, giggling. "Okay now; I want you to tell me what I had for breakfast."

"How would I know?"

"Well, an educated guess; you nose is in my bum, sniff around and see what you smell," she says with a chuckle.

Stupidly, unthinking, I sniff hard and choke on the rancidity of her asshole.

"Come on you big baby, it doesn't smell that bad! Guess!" She says in a bitchy, commanding tone.


"Good. I love eggs, they give me big, eggy farts. Do you like eggy farts Roger?"


"Would you like me to give you a big, eggy fart for your good work?"

I don't know what the right answer was; I'm guessing it is a rhetorical question.

She seals the hole in the top of the seat, my nose buried in her cheeks.


"Ahhhh, breathe in your reward Roger, breathe it in."

I twitch under my teacher as I watch the visible green gas come at me and disappear into my sinuses, choking me from the inside of precious oxygen and filling me with rancid farts from a sadistic woman. She laughs evilly as the bell rings, ending class. I fall unconscious in the darkness and dankness of her caverns as I hear my classmate's footsteps running for fresher air. I would be Ms. Wilson's tonight.

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