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The Employee
Author: Closet Fetishist

Written: July 14th, 2015

In a dark room, we all sit, on the floor. It's cold, moisture in the air; a dank, dilapidated cell.

Suddenly light, it burns at first, so bright, so foreign; in the center, silhouetted in the light, our boss. She stands for a moment then takes deliberate, heeled steps forward and towards me. Lights flicker on like a medical room and the cell in disrepair is revealed; my coworkers, my colleagues, chained to the wall, each in tatters for clothing and looking barren, starved.

Immediately, the boss is upon me, I look up but still can't see her shadowed face. Her ass met me next, I didn't need to see it, I knew it by smell; terrible, toxic smell.


Horribly, I breathe deep in a startled panic, assured to take in the very worst of boss' gas as she caressed the top of my head; her aids remove the shackles from my hands, wrists finally free of scraping metal.

Her butt leaves my face after what feels like an eternity; I gasp and pant for the fresher air around me as her aids lift me. I'm expected to walk, close behind the boss, recovering on the way. Her aids followed.


Finally, at my cubicle, my home. The only one in an otherwise empty room. It's pristine, clean, ordered; not one thing out of place and free of distractions of the individual. These ideas are as important to me as is the success of our company.

I don't know where the other's worked when they were called by the boss; I don't know which cubicle they used the times when I was to remain in The Break Room but I knew this was mine and I felt comfortable here.

I'm handed a paper, on it is printed a single sentence; my assignment:

Write a press release addressing and dismissing the many frivolous and absurd crimes this company has been accused while maintaining a relative distance to all issues and non-denial denial.

I reach over to pull it closer but an aid takes it and tosses it into the incinerating trash can.
The boss stands there, a few feet behind me, aids at her side; she waits for me to start.

I, nervously, turn back to the computer. I begin to type.


I work and type, furiously, for what must have been forty minutes straight. I hear the boss' heels approaching but I don't look over, I keep working until she forcibly grabs my head, turning it to the side to face her butt before pushing it inside.


She sighs with great relief as I struggle against her holding me in her ass, forced to smell the wretchedness of her terrible gas. I sputter and cough, trying to exhale deeply and inhale sharply but each inhale is worse and more potent than the last; my throat dry and filled up with her shit odor.

Finally, she releases me and I recover as quick as I can, wheezing heavily as my fingers reach the home row and I try to pick up the last thought I was typing on before I was gassed.


Another forty minutes and I turn, cautiously, carefully, to show I am finished.

The boss and aids approach. I'm pushed down until my head reaches the seat of the chair and the boss comes and sits down, hard, on my face; my nose deep up her putrid anus. I try to shake my head, or maybe it's just convulsions, but my face can't move deeply wedged up boss' butt.

She leans to the side...PPRRRRRRRrrrrruuuuuuuuupppp!

I stifle deep, phlegm-filled coughs to avoid disturbing her as she reads silently; I pray my work pleases her.

She sits back at another point....BRRRRRRRRRRRRrrraaaaaappppppp! I hear her pat her stomach after that blast that felt like it would blow out all my insides and then leaving a long, lingering stink like a sulfur pit. I moan softly, struggling under the boss but desperate not to show it.

Finally, she rises and I take desperate, quick breaths of oxygen while I massage my sore neck; my eyes blurred and watery from the assault.

But soon I'm on the ground, a clear box over my head...oh, god no...

Boss' ass comes over the top quickly and, as my vision clears, I watch her perfect anus pulse outward in a large push. BBFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRrrrruuuuppppttttt!

Her ass bellowed loudly, unapologetically with a thick spraying of wet shit over my face, courtesy of my boss. I shook and rattled my head to the sides, trying to shake it off and avoid the noxious stink that followed but there was no where to go.

Then, horrifyingly, I watch her butthole open wide, crackling loudly as a dark brown dot in the center, which quickly grew and pushed further like a spear, began to coil around over my face and around me; the warm waste solid but mushy once pressed against my skin, pushing and rubbing against it; stuffing itself up my exposed nostrils and trying to press into my mouth.

I scream but it just echoes in the box and only allows the shit to drop down my throat, practically choking me as I hack to bring it back up or slide it down, anything at this point!


I wake up when I feel the rough towel scrapped against my face, it removes the solid matter, leaving only the boss' shit smears across my face. I'm lifted back to my seat, in front of the computer. A blank document before me.

Okay, starting over; the boss looks on, I feel her gaze on the back of my head as I bring my fingers to the keys and start to type.


The boss didn't enforce Break Time and let me work through until I turned in my chair, finally proud of what I wrote and expected she would be too.

I was dropped, my head to the seat again for the boss to sit on. Dark and toxic, I couldn't see a thing but I felt her anus pulsing wildly against my nose.

I waited for a long time it seemed, no gas; just reading, I suppose. Maybe she did like it.

Then she lifted up, and I felt the cold floor again; wet, likely from her last dump. I scream for mercy, begging to no go under again but it falls on deaf ears as the box is put over my head again, the boss sits; her pulsing butt wasting no time to shower me with a dense, thick spray of shit that collected around my head after it sprayed like a fire sprinkler over my face. FFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRrrrrruuuuuuuuurrrrrrttttt!

I tried my best to avoid the spray but it was hopeless in this box.


She sprays me again with a putrid, sewer-like spray of her waste as her butt jiggles with delight or discomfort; her shit spraying, burning my eyes as I take long, shallow, painful breaths of her wet wind.

I start to shiver, the pool of liquid growing quickly cold; I don't even feel my eyes roll back.


I awake again to the force of a rough towel on my face, lifted again, placed in front of a blank document.

I'm gonna die here. I bring my finger to keys, and begin to type.


I don't know how long I've worked for, my fingers are sore; I crack them, each making a sound like snapping a carrot. Finally, it's done, I gently, weakly, turn to the boss.

She approaches and, for once, I am lifted from the chair, onto my feet. I watch the boss, smile to me, as she sits down on the chair. The aids stand on either side of me, very closely.

The boss reads, scanning quickly. She turns, then nods, smiling. The aids grab me by the arms and drag me away, presumably back to The Break Room.

As I'm dragged, a smile crosses my shit stained face.

I did it. I saved the company.

Our company.

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