If there’s truth to the idea that businessmen can gain a psychological edge over others by being physically imposing, Joseph Bachmann was living proof of it. The Lucario stood comfortably north of seven feet tall, allowing him to loom over his employees and competitors like some fearsome colossus. But that would just make him a gangly beanpole if he didn’t have the physical heft to back it up-and he had it in spades.

Joseph was a textbook-perfect example of a musclegut. Long holding a distaste for the bloated, veiny monstrosities of quote-unquote “bodybuilders”, the Lucario made sure that he had a perfect mixture of muscle and fat. His belly was firm and a little jiggly, his thighs were marvelously thick, and his pecs tiptoed right up to the edge of being accurately called “moobs”. And yet, there was no doubting his strength-there were rumors that he was able to rip a door right off its hinges, or that he could comfortably bench-press up to the quadruple digits.

All of this was to say that it would not be terribly easy to be sat on full-weight by this titan of a Pokemon. And yet, that was the situation that Kyle found himself in today. The wolf’s first meeting with Joseph had gone wonderfully, so Kyle jumped at the chance to meet up with him again. “Just to warn you,” Joseph said, his deep German accent genial and teasing, “I won’t be so easy on you this time.” Kyle believed him.

But even with that in mind, this was a bit much. Not two minutes into this ordeal, and Kyle felt like his head was about to pop from the pressure. The hotel bed was soft and cushiony, but there was only so much it could help against the constant downward pressure of those smothering buns. The wolf’s hands pushed into the firm, hefty flab of Joseph’s massive blue ass cheeks, as though trying to lift them off of his face-not that he would have a remote chance of success.

Joseph, for his part, seemed like he didn’t notice Kyle’s existence. The Lucario was bottomless, wearing nothing but his white dress shirt and his navy blue socks as his bare ass swallowed Kyle’s face. His legs were stretched out, relaxed, feet crossed at the ankles. Icy blue eyes peered through wire frame reading glasses as his thumb flicked along his phone’s screen, checking emails and setting the following week’s schedule.

Only when he felt a small hand furiously tapping on his thigh did Joseph acknowledge the fact that there was someone beneath him. He lifted his hips up, silently smirking at the deep, ragged gasps for air that Kyle gave after being freed from the confines of his hot, heavy ass crack.

“Two minutes and thirty-three seconds,” Joseph remarked. “Not bad for your first time full-weight.” Kyle would have taken more pleasure in that if he wasn’t too busy gasping for air like a fish flopping forlornly about on a dock.

He had almost caught his breath when his face was swallowed up by the heft of Joseph’s ass once more. Mercifully, it wasn’t full-weight; the Lucario sat crouched above the wolf’s face, making sure that he applied enough pressure to smother but not enough to crush. Kyle could hear Joseph’s voice, garbled as though the wolf was listening from under water.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, boy,” Joseph said. “I’m going to fart in your face, nice and hard, for as many times as you can take it. Tap out when you feel like you’ll be sick.” Kyle just gave a woozy moan at that news, craning his head to the side to get just a few more gulps of fresh air before getting his face back into position.

He looked up at those twin blue moons with a mixture of awe and fear. He took another deep breath of its salty, leathery scent, shuddering in anticipation of what was to come. It was a wonderful ass to worship, but that didn’t make what was to come any easier on the wolf.

Brrrrrrrrrmmmpt. It was quiet to start out-a low, purring rumble, like distant thunder. But what it lacked in sound it made up for in smell. Fuck, Joseph had some potent gutgas; it was heavy on the nostrils, a dense, suffocating fog of digested meals and the earthy, lightly spicy depths of the Lucario’s bowels. Kyle jolted as though he was stuck in the side with a prod; still, his hand remained by his side.

“Good,” Joseph purred, pleased by his sub’s ability to take his ripe, eye-watering farts. He remembered last time, when Kyle was barely able to take one before coughing and retching; today was an improvement. He leaned his head back, sighing, and relaxed.

Without warning, his tight, wrinkled pucker blurted open and rasped another fart, right up Kyle’s nose. This one was deep and bassy, louder than the first one-PBBBBBLLLLLRRRT. The scent wasn’t any easier to take this time around; in fact, thanks to the lack of fresh air, it was even harder. Still, Kyle sniffed, face scrunching up with disgust as he snorted up that roiling, nasty gas. His eyes were red and watery, as though he rubbed them after handling hot peppers; his nostrils felt like they had been set alight. Nevertheless, he stayed still.

Joseph gave a deep, rich chuckle. “Good boy,” he murmured, condescendingly. Idly, he tugged at his thick, floppy dick, semi-hard (in his forties, it took longer for Joseph to get it going), as though waiting for the next round to come along and roar into Kyle’s waiting face.

When it did come, it was silent. In contrast to the previous one, it was nothing more than a soft, almost inaudible hiss-fssssssssshhhhh. And yet, it truly was silent but deadly-unbearably hot and spicy, it was less like a fart and more like a burst of Mace. It rushed into Kyle’s nostrils, into his eyes, and into his mouth-the wolf would later swear he heard his taste buds sizzling.

Joseph smirked as he heard a high-pitched, muffled squeal into his pillowy cheeks; it was always cute when his subs couldn’t do anything but scream into his ass. Kyle reached his hand up, hammering it against Joseph’s thigh, desperately hoping for fresh air.

As the Lucario lifted up and Kyle hacked and coughed as though he had just left a burning building, Joseph rolled his eyes.

“Only three? You’ll have to do better than that…”