TheStinkVerse

Theo walks in through the door of Liams living room with a massive grin and two fresh cups of water to see the young beta awake and moving at last. “So you can move again? Right as I show up?” Theo laughs before reaching a cup of water to Liam, adjusting the strand of thick black hair drooling ove his forehead, and sitting down beside him . Up until this morning Liam had essentially been unable to move more than a few feet at a time without assistance, but today he was almost fully recovered, almost. “I still can’t fully wolf out, or even get to my full strength!” Liam responds. “It’s probably the over kill of that wolfsbane and kanima venom combo, you took so much more than 99% of others could handle!” Theo reaches an arm around to cuddle into Liam but before he gets comfortable he hears a slight footstep upstairs. “Wait here!”

Slowly walking into the bedroom Theo scans his surroundings, lights were off, floor seemingly undisturbed, but the window was now open. Trying to be as cautious as possible after Liam's attack, Theo turns on the light to avoid surprises, then starts searching for a scent. The moment he tries to use his stronger wolf smelling he is hit with the lingering smell of gas, on the level of Liams but clearly not from him. "Enjoy the smell Theo?"

One of Warren's friends exits the ensuite behind Theo. The man launches himself at Theo at great speed, trying to get him onto the floor. "You realky think you can take me? You have no idea what I'm capable of!" Theo laughs, staring into the mans eyes with his shinering yellow irises before kicking at his ankles. Theo wastes no time in grappling his attacker, using the brief advantage to get behind and put him in a headlock. "Who are you and what do you want with Liam?" Theo applies more pressure, using his strength to drag the man backwards in a headlock towards the bed. As Theo gets comfortable sitting on the edge of the matress he gets tired of the silence and switches to a head scissor hold. "Better start talking! I've made people much bigger than you tap for mercy!" Theos roars. The minutes pass by, and the struggling gets weaker as the mans head gets redder, before finally he caves.

"It....it isn't Liam we want!" He croaks between Theos thick contracting thighs. "We?" Theo questions before feeling a grip on his shoulders. A confused look spreads across his face as he can't see anything but is slowly pulled down flat to lay against the matress. Once Theo is flat the second of Warren's goons, reveals himself, standing above a now laying down Theo. "See before Liam, we payed Corey a visit! His chameleon camouflage was too useful for us to not try to recreate it!" Theo panics a little but doesn't show it, instead he just squeezes his legs tighter and tighter, trying to eliminate one of the threats. That is until there is a sharp pain in his leg. "Time for you to see what WE can do!"

Theo looks down at his leg, a sharp blade now in it, coated with glistening kanima venom. Slowly his legs loosenand his body goes numb, but the worst was yet to come. As the first man weakly stood up from between Theo's thighs, the second slowly started to lower his ass onto Theos head. Instinctively Theo tries to reach up and stop his face being sat on but being paralyzed resulted in only an angry grunt and the shimmer of yellow in his eyes. "Don't bother resisting!" The goon says, quickly hooking his thumbs into his waistband band and pulling his sweat pants and underwear down, crashing onto Theos face bare assed. "Do you really need to do this? Can't you just get his blood sample and get out of here before McCall gets back?" The first man says, still rubbing his almost crushed neck. "This is more fun! Plus it lets us see if what we made from Liams sample works."

Theo starts twitching his fingers, pushing his claws out slowly as he tried to overpower the temporary paralysis and escape the stinking ass on his face. "Oh no you don't!" The man on his face says. He reaches down to his discsrded sweatpants, reaches into the pocket, and takes a small vial of purple liquid labeled "L1" and drinks it. A few moments later, just as Theo almost has full movement in one arm, a fart roars out onto his face. Theo has no choice but to inhale, having had his air cut off for almost 5 minutes at this point. Unfortunately this wasn't just any regular jock fart. "H...how...." Theo Gasps as the man lifts briefly to readjust then drop again directly onto Theos nose. The stench was too powerful for a human, it was on par with Liams worst, a fact that worried Theo. "Lets just say we didn't just take Liams dignity that night last week!" Another fart blasts into Theos helpless nostrils as he lays sinking into the matress, paralyzed and mentally unable to fight it anymore, destroyed by the juiced up farts. He feels a needle jag into his arm but can't even twitch to resist. "That's a good boy, stay still, oh wait you have no choice! Now that I have what Warren needs its time to put you to sleep!" The needle is pulled from Theo's arm and almost immediately the boom of a third and final fart knocks him unconscious with pure mind melting stench.

Just as the men are lifting Theo's unconscious body to lay him in the ensuite as a surprise, Scott bursts in the front door downstairs. "LIAM? THEO?" He roars. The men just throw Theo onto the floor and sneak out the window. Scott finds Liam sleeping on the couch, having taken a sleep tablet just before Theo had walked in esrlier. Following the subtle scent, Scott makes his way upstairs cautiously and finally reaches the bedroom. Kicking the door in results in a wave of the lingering mega farts rushing out. "Fu...fuck..." Even Scott struggled to handle them despite mostly being pumped up Theo's nose. Unable to track any sort of scent due to the farts, and seeing Theo unconscious, Scott decides to message everyone. "We've got a problem! Warren from Davenford lacrosse team is a Hunter, but somehow much more dangerous than the rest. Get to Liams as soon as possible!"

"You get it?" Warren's voice echoes in the abandoned basement as his accomplices return. "Easy boss! Juicing my farts up using the serum you made from Liams blood made Theo manageable!" "What do you plan on doing with Theo's?" The men talk, handing over the vial of Theo’s blood. Warren grabs it and walks in silence to the bench at the back wall of the run down basement, opening the damaged Dread Doctor book to the page on compound extraction. "With Theo's blood I can extract the hypnotic compound the Doctors pumped into Theo. You will test it against Jackson or Derek to make sure if works well. Then if it does I will move to using it on Scott."

Shohei’s eyes follow the movement of your phone, his gaze sharp and observant despite the celebratory haze of the alcohol. He doesn't look away or act offended; instead, a slow, knowing smirk begins to spread across his face. He leans in closer, the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint, masculine musk of a man who has just finished a high intensity game.

"Zack, right?" he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, losing that casual fan service tone and replacing it with something much more heavy and intentional. He notices how your muscular frame seems to tense up, your broad shoulders hunching slightly as you try to hide your embarrassment. To anyone else, you look like a formidable, intimidating man, but Shohei sees the way your eyes flicker nervously.

"You don't need an excuse," he chuckles, a low, vibrating sound in his chest. He reaches out, his hand landing firmly on your bicep, his thumb tracing the hard muscle there. "In fact, if you liked those photos so much, why don't we take a real one? One where you aren't just looking at a screen."

He leans in even closer, his lips brushing near your ear so only you can hear him over the bar's music. "You've got a great build, Zack. Big, strong... but you look like you're about to melt right here on the floor. Tell me... do you want to keep staring at the pictures, or do you want to see the real thing up close?"

He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze intense and predatory, yet still wrapped in that charming, friendly mask. He can feel the heat radiating off your massive frame, and the way your breath hitches tells him everything he needs to know. You might look like a powerhouse to the rest of the crowd, but under his scrutiny, you're practically vibrating with submissive energy.

"Don't look so scared," he teases, his hand sliding from your bicep down to your forearm, squeezing the thick muscle. "I don't mind a man with good taste. Actually, seeing how much you were admiring the view... it makes me want to show off a little more."

He stands up straight, adjusting his baseball pants, intentionally shifting his hips so the fabric stretches tight over his glutes the very thing you were just ogling on your phone. He watches your eyes instinctively dart down to his waist before snapping back up to his face in a panic. A triumphant grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"Tell you what, Zack. Let's get out of this crowd. It's getting a little too loud in here for a private viewing, don't you think?" He leans in one last time, his voice a commanding whisper that leaves no room for argument. "Come on. Follow me, and maybe you can show me exactly what part of those photos caught your eye." He grips your nervous sweaty hand and doesnt wait for an answer.

He leads you through the crowded bar, his grip on your hand firm and possessive, guiding your much larger frame through the sea of people with an ease that suggests he's used to being in control. You feel like a massive, hulking beast being led by a leash, your heart hammering against your ribs as you struggle to maintain your composure. Even though you tower over most people in the room, Shohei’s presence is overwhelming, his confidence acting like a gravitational pull that you can't resist.

He steers you toward the back exit, the cool night air hitting your face as you step into a dimly lit, private alleyway adjacent to the bar. The noise of the celebration muffles behind the heavy steel door, leaving the two of you in a sudden, charged silence. Shohei lets go of your hand, but he doesn't step away. Instead, he turns to face you, leaning back against the brick wall with a relaxed, predatory grace.

"All fours? Yeah right!" You laugh it off not expecting him to be serious. Immediately he rises with speed and showcases his strength, showing that resistance leads to punishment. Your laughter dies in your throat the moment Blake’s hand clamps onto your shoulder. It isn’t a friendly pat, it’s a heavy, inescapable weight. Before you can even process the shift in the room, his strength becomes apparent. He moves with a terrifying, practiced efficiency, manhandling your frame and forcing you backward until you’re sprawled unceremoniously across the leather couch.

The cool material presses against your back, but the heat radiating from Blake is all you can focus on. He looms over you, his massive frame casting a shadow that swallows you whole. That cocky smirk hasn't left his face, but his eyes have darkened, losing their playful glint and replacing it with a cold, dominant intensity. "You think this is a joke, Connor?" Blake asks, his voice dropping an octave. He leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your hips. "In this house, we don't 'laugh off' orders. We obey. Every single one."

He shifts his weight, and you feel the mass of his muscular thighs pressing against your sides, pinning you in place. He’s so close now that you can see the mischievous spark returning to his eyes as he realizes just how much he’s rattled you. "That little laugh was your first mistake," he whispers, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. "Now since you're so eager to be a part of the frat, let's start your real initiation. You wanted to be one of the pledges, right? Well, the pledges don't sit on the couch. They serve."

Without waiting for your permission, Blake shifts his massive weight, manoeuvring himself so he is straddling your midsection. The pressure of his heavy, muscular thighs pinning your hips to the leather makes it hard to draw a full breath. You can feel the heat of his body soaking through your clothes, and the tight grey fabric of his sweatpants pressing into your skin.

He leans down, his face inches from yours, a devious, knowing grin spreading across his lips. "First lesson: a pledge's nose belongs to his brothers. And right now, Connor, your nose is mine." He begins to turn his body, shifting his hips so that the enormous, rounded swell of his ass is hovering directly over your face. The musk in the air intensifies, becoming thick and suffocating as the scent of his hardworking body fills your senses. You realize with a jolt of panic that he isn't moving away, he's getting closer.

"Don't hold your breath, pledge," he chuckles, his voice dripping with cocky dominance. "You're gonna need all the air you can get for what's coming next." "Wait, what?" Your eyes widen as the massive, warm weight of his backside looms inches from your nose. "Wait, Blake you can't be serious!" You stutter, hands instinctively coming up to grasp his thick thighs to try and push him back, but they feel like solid pillars of granite. The realization that he isn't joking starts to sink in, sending a wave of heat and pure panic rushing through your chest. "Is this really how it starts? I don't want this!" You manage to gasp out, breath hitching as the musk of his sweatpants becomes almost overwhelming.

"Oh, you don't get a vote, Connor!" Blake barks, a sharp, commanding sound that cuts through your protests. As your hands scramble against his thighs, he doesn't budge; instead, he presses down harder, his massive weight effectively crushing your chest into the couch. "The more you struggle, the more it's gonna hurt. And trust me, you don't want to find out how much I can punish a stubborn pledge."

He lets out a low, triumphant chuckle, enjoying the way your eyes are darting around in sheer confusion and terror. The sheer scale of him is overwhelming; he feels less like a college student and more like an unstoppable force of nature. The grey fabric of his sweatpants is so thin and stretched tight over his massive, rounded cheeks that you can see the subtle texture of his skin underneath.

"You said you wanted to fit in, right?" Blake's voice is a silky, dangerous purr as he begins to roll backwards "Well, fitting in means getting comfortable with the scent of your betters. This is the smell of the brotherhood, kid. Get used to it." With a deliberate, slow motion, he shifts his weight back. The heavy, warm mass of his ass moves toward your face, your vision filled with nothing but the vast, intimidating expanse of his backside.

"Now," Blake commands, his voice muffled but stern as he settles his weight firmly against your nose and mouth, "Take a deep breath, stink piggie. It's time to start earning your place." Your world shrinks to the size of a grey cotton fabric. The sheer weight of him smothers your face, pressing your nose deep into the crevice where his massive glutes meet. The scent is overwhelming a concentrated, humid blast of masculine musk, stale sweat, and the trapped, pungent heat of his body. It’s thick enough to taste, coating your tongue and filling your lungs with every desperate, shallow gasp you take.

"Mmm, yeah, just like that," Blake groans. He shifts his hips, grinding his weight down even harder to ensure there isn't a single millimeter of space between his ass and your face. "Feel that? That's the weight of a frat brothers ass pledge. You're gonna learn to love every inch of it." You try to turn your head, to find a pocket of fresh air, but he’s too heavy, too dominant. He’s a mountain of muscle and scent, and you are nothing but a cushion for his pleasure. Just as you think you can't take another second of the suffocating musk, you feel his muscles tense beneath the fabric.

"Hold tight, Connor," he chuckles, a devious, predatory tone entering his voice. "I've been holding this in all day just for you. Time to see if you can handle a real welcome!" Suddenly, a low, rumbling vibration builds deep within him, and before you can even process the warning, a hot, heavy gust of gas erupts directly against your lips.

"No….please…" The plea is barely a whisper, muffled instantly by the thick, warm cotton of his sweatpants and a heavy, hot blast of gas erupts from him, forced directly into your mouth and nose by the sheer pressure of his weight. It’s overwhelming, a sensory assault that makes your eyes water and your stomach lurch in a desperate attempt to reject it. "There it is!" Blake bellows, his voice booming with triumphant glee. He doesn't lift off. Instead, he grinds his massive cheeks down even harder, sealing your face into the crevice of his ass to ensure you inhale every single molecule of the cloud. "Don't you dare turn away! Take it all, you little piggie pledge!"

"Language, kid," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that smooth, dominant register that makes your stomach flip. "You should be more polite to your elders, especially when I'm about to give you exactly what you need." He shifts his weight, bracing his large, muscular hands on his knees to steady himself. The denim of his jeans is taut, stretched tight over the heavy, powerful curves of his muscular werewolf ass. It’s massive, looming right in front of your nose, blocking out the light from the glass on the front door.

He wiggles his hips just a fraction, a teasing gesture that brings the seam of his jeans even closer to your lips. "Now, don't just sit there gaping like a fish," he commands, his tone hardening with a playful authority. "Get in there. You’ve got a long day of service ahead of you, and we're just getting warmed up. Show me how much of a good little son you can be. Breathe it in."

"What do you think you are doing?" You complain still confused, starting to rise off your knees while getting a subtle hint of the ripe scent. Derek’s hand flashes around with supernatural speed, his large palm landing firmly on your shoulder to press you right back down to the floor. The strength in his grip is undeniable, it’s not meant to hurt, but it’s a clear command that you aren't going anywhere until he says so. He lets out another low, dark chuckle, clearly amused by your half hearted attempt at protest.

"I think you're unaware of your place, Connor," he says, his voice dropping an octave, sounding thick and hungry. "You were all ready to go out and play the perfect son, but you've got much more important work to do right here. You're going to learn exactly what it means to be a willing and obedient son!" As you're forced back down, that scent hits you again harder this time. It’s a heavy, concentrated aroma of musk, sweat, and the unmistakable, ripe funk of a man who’s been active. It’s thick enough to taste, swirling around your nostrils and making your head swim. It’s primal, earthy, and incredibly intoxicating, triggering a strange, submissive urge deep in your gut to just stop fighting and lean in.

Derek senses your hesitation and decides to reward your proximity. He shifts his hips, tilting his pelvis just enough to press the heavy, denim clad center of his ass almost directly against your nose. "Stop complaining and start inhaling," he growls, his tone turning commanding. "That scent? That's the smell of your new Daddy. Now take it like a good boy."

He gives his hips another deliberate, heavy shimmy, the thick rough denim of his jeans rubbing provocatively against your lips. The scent is overwhelming and now a dense, masculine cloud of heat and musk that seems to coat the back of your throat. It’s the smell of a dominant predator, raw and unfiltered, and it commands your total attention.

Suddenly he’s bracing himself, his large hands gripping his thighs as he prepares to deliver his first 'gift' of the day. You realize with a jolt of heat in your chest that he isn't just teasing you anymore; he's about to let loose, and he expects you to be right there to catch every single, ripe note of it.

A moment later, a hot, heavy gust of air forces its way through the thick denim, hitting your face with force. It’s a concentrated, sulfurous blast of the unmistakable scent of a werewolf's digestive system letting loose. It’s a dense cloud of musk and ripeness that makes your eyes water and your head spin. It’s overwhelming, a sensory overload that demands your total submission. "There we go," Derek rumbles, his voice vibrating through his entire frame as he feels the release. He doesn't pull away; instead, he presses his ass even firmer against your nose, trapping the warm, stinking air between his body and your face. "Take it all, Connor. Every bit of it. That's how a good son shows respect to his Daddy."

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh, his body relaxing slightly as the pressure subsides, but he keeps you pinned there, making sure you're forced to breathe in the lingering, heavy aroma. The scent hangs in the air, thick and intoxicating, a silent command for you to sink deeper into your role. You can feel his gaze over his shoulder, intense and expectant, waiting to see if you'll fight the scent or if you'll finally succumb to the delicious, stinking reality of your new life.

”Before I do this the hard way Liam, I’m going to give you a chance to save yourself so much trouble and humiliation. See after Brett left Davenford, I was voted captain and made it my mission to remove any werewolf from Lacrosse Teams. I don’t care if your kind doesn’t use you strength or speed to the advantage of your team, we will never be able to fully trust you won’t. So I ask you this….Will you step down as Captain and remove yourself from Beacon Hills Lacrosse team?” Warren monologues with hint of joy and pride in his deep voice as he washes his beefy body without ever looking at Liam. “Go to hell Warren, I will ne….” Liam doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before the jocks shove him forward, smashing his face into Warrens crack. Each jock uses their free hand to grip the back of liams head and force his head at an angle at which his nose is right against the sticky hole. “I tried to warn you….well let’s be honest…I knew you’d resist!” Warren wiggles his hips side to side a little to tease his victim before grunting and letting out a protein fart that he had been holding back all night. Liams body shakes violently as he tries to free himself from the manure like smell, going as far as letting his claws slip out and try cut the men holding him. “You’re so cute Liam, and I’m not just talking about that face! Your struggle is so cute because as you raged out at my strong scent, inhaling rapidly and getting angry, you were too unfocused to smell what was hidden deep in that glorious fart!” Liam panics, being slowly pulled back out of Warrens ass while also noticing how his claws retract by themselves. The little gas that remains floating in the vicinity of the muscle ass is shimmering with a purple tinge. “Wolf….Wolfsbane?” Liam weakly asks, head starting to hand as his energy depletes, nose and nostrils coated in the purple substance. “Indeed you little fart sniffing loser!” Warren laughs, reversing back as his goons hold Liams head up in place resulting in another wolfsbane laced fart being pumped into him.

The coughs and gags of Liam echo in the room as Warren finally turns the shower off. “Now I ask for more since you think you are in a position to say no. Remove yourself as Captain and a member of Beacon Hills Lacrosse team AND before you do so I want you to remove Scott McCall and Jackson!” Liam tries to work up the energy to fight back, slowly waiting for his moment to strike. “And if I say no?” He replies, throwing his head back to look up Warren. “We both know what happened!” The man replies, cupping his cheeks and pulling them apart to show his hole, puckering in and out with some wolfsbane dust being pushed out each time, having been pushed in hours ago to make sure each fart pushes more out. “I guess I do, too bad I’ve never really listened!” Liams eyes glint yellow as he uses his claws to slash each of the masked jocks. Kicking the one on his right to the ground, he pounces on the left and knocks him down too before swiftly positioning on the masked face and letting out a massive fart. “You aren’t the only one that can play dirty!” Liam says with a cocky look before darting to the second jock. Warren looked down to realise Liams fart had almost knocked his man out, and now the powerful beta was about to do the same to the second. “Liam…wait…you don’t want to do that!” Warren says as he slowly walks over to Liam. “Oh yeah why’s that?”

Warren runs at Liam and turns around at the last second, presenting his ass ready to fart again. Liam makes an impulsive decision to try push him away, but as he rises up, the jock below him slices him with a Kanima venom laced blade. Warren lets out a ten second Wolf bane fart right in line with Liams face and the beta slowly falls flat on the ground, paralysed and almost unable to breathe. “No point fighting now Liams, just lay still and allow me to destroy that cute face of yours!” Warren grunts, sitting square on Liams face and kicking his hand away from his pocket, the weak beta trying his best to reach for his phone to warn Scott of the new threat. “Give me vial!” Warren demands with a fart on Liams nose. His goon reaches a vial and needle out of his pocket to Warren, the evil dom reaching around and pricking it into Liams glute to extract sample of his blood.