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Xefros blinked awake, the heavy weight of sleep dragging sluggishly off his mind—then his nose betrayed him.
A thick, choking stench was already clawing at his nostrils, sharp and sour and wrong. He scrunched his nose instinctively, a dry gag threatening to break free. His hand flew up, slapping hard against his mouth in a desperate attempt to block the putrid air from flooding in. Where is that smell coming from? He glanced down. His shirt clung to his skin like a second layer of slime—wet, slick, and oily. The fabric glistened under the weak morning light filtering through his window. His hands moved to his arms, tracing the slick, sticky residue that coated him.
I didn’t go to bed like this.
Confusion twisted with nausea. The sticky substance smelled like... rot and sweat mixed with something sour and rancid. Xefros gagged again, the stench clawing deeper into his throat. His eyes flicked around the room—and then the slow dread settled in. The walls had shifted colors overnight, the once pale paint now smeared with sickly shades of green and yellow, as if a fog had seeped into the very fibers. A faint, bubbling hiss leaked from under his bedroom door—a low hiss of gas. Heart pounding, Xefros staggered upright and crept to the door. The air grew thicker, heavier, sticky with the smell that clawed at his lungs. He hesitated, hand trembling as he reached for the handle.
The moment he twisted it open, the hallway hit him like a wall of stink so thick he could barely see. A choking, yellow-green fog rolled along the floor and swirled in lazy eddies, filling every corner and creeping up the walls. The air was so viscous it felt like he was breathing through molasses made of decay. His eyes burned and watered instantly, and mucus dripped from his nostrils despite himself. Xefros forced one foot forward, then another. Each step was a battle—his throat scraping with every breath, his stomach twisting. The familiar hallway was warped, twisted by the haze into something alien and hostile. He descended the stairs, the sickly smell intensifying with every creaking step. At last, he reached the kitchen. The fog was thickest here—a choking cloud that made his vision swim.
And then, amidst the choking stink and swirling haze, he saw it.
Two massive, oily cheeks, slick with sweat and gleaming under the flickering fluorescent light. Acne-pocked and glistening, they trembled with a slow, menacing rumble. Xefros froze, eyes wide, stomach roiling. “No... it can’t be...” he gasped, voice cracked and raw.
As the glistening fissure widened, it released another thunderous rumble — one that vibrated deep in Xefros’s chest and cracked faint hairline fractures in the hallway plaster. Then came the pop — a stomach-turning suction pop like a void unsealing itself, followed by a wet, guttural splorch as a wave of chunky, bile-colored sludge spat forth in a burst. It struck him across the chest and neck, reeking of rot and sulfur, soaking through his already damp clothes with a nauseating squelch. Xefros barely had time to cover his face before the air thickened, vibrating as the cheeks rumbled with seismic intensity, rattling the floor beneath his feet and groaning through the walls. From the dark, moist hole emerged a thunderous blast of noxious gas—thick, pungent, and suffocating. It rolled over Xefros like a tidal wave of pure, sticky stink, coating his skin and searing his lungs.
Was that... Taco Bell?
The gaping orifice pulsed wetly, inhaling the dense air in rhythmic, slurping gusts. The walls and floor had begun to ripple with every breath the massive grotesque anal hole took — as though reality itself were pulsing in sync with its foul appetite. The opening yawned wider, gurgling, pulling at the air with a damp, sucking force. Xefros staggered back, but the overpowering stench pressed into his lungs like wet cement. His legs trembled, vision swimming, breath coming short and sharp. The darkness seemed to reach for him, dragging him closer inch by inch—its humid breath wrapping around his limbs, urging him toward its steaming core.
It wants to suck me in.. Dammek's butt is going to swallow me whole! I'll suffocate in his poop!
Pressure gripped him from all sides, dragging him closer toward the gaping pit. His limbs felt like they were moving through tar, his head light from lack of clean air. The reeking humidity wrapped around his throat like a noose, tugging him down into the slick abyss. He gasped, eyes wide, lungs burning as the edges of the fleshy maw folded inward. His vision tunneled. His final thoughts were scrambled panic and the sting of acid stench behind his eyes. The last thing he saw was the undulating edge of the slimey wet cave, closing in like a putrid unkept hairy mouth.
Then — shhlrp!
A loud, slopping pop sealed the aperture.
A long silence hung. And finally, from deep within the glistening mass… a tiny, pleased-sounding burp— a tiny, ironic punctuation as the rear maw of Tetrarch sealed shut once more.