When Meg Megalodon invited me to inhale his true stink I might have underestimated what I was in for. You’d think that, by now, I’d know what that shark can do. I’ve seen him give countless others a taste of similar things. But to end up as a micro in that situation just made it so much worse in the very best of ways.
My head started pressed against his cockhead, with his foreskin still rolled over the head. The smell was strong, yes, but absolutely nothing compared to what was to follow. As he pulled it back with two fingers—an act that I couldn’t hope to manage even with both arms and all of my strength — that glistening, grimy cockhead came into view. Every millimeter his foreskin rolled back made the stench intensify. It went from being a strong to overpowering. From musky to dirty as virility gave way to pure filth.
Even though my eyes were watering, the shark didn’t give a damn about how I felt about it. He wanted someone huffing his stink and the fact I was gagging just on the stench was irrelevant to him. He pressed his cock roughly against my face, smearing some of his smegma upon it. Some of his dick cheese ended up in my nose, making it even harder to breathe and ensuring that grime tainted every breath of air that I could snort through his smeg. That I felt nauseous just seemed to encourage Meg to continue abusing my poor sense of smell.
Once I was rendered defenseless just from the smell alone, Meg started rolling his foreskin back over his cockhead. I could see that thick flesh moving towards me, but my reactions were far too little, too late, and my head was caught beneath it, trapping me against his cock. His thumb pressed my head into his urethra, sealing me in its heat and wetness. There was just a few hints of light filtering through his skin. Just enough for me to appreciate the sights, were I to dare open my eyes.
With my face inside his dick, fresh precum washed some of the smeg off my face, while the smell of stale urine lingered from the last time he’d used the toilet. A mix of every single smell his dick could create was assaulting my nostrils. The pressure of his thumb on my head forced my tongue out as well, ensuring I could also get a taste of it, further intensifying the experience. I heaved, trying not to be sick, but also unable to pull my tongue back and spare myself from continuing to taste that overpowering concoction of bodily secretions.
“Inhale my true stink, you little bitch!” the male thundered down at me. The command was as if an edict from God himself. I had to breathe. I ended up breathing long and deep of his stench, and the smell only seemed to get worse the longer I had to suffer it. And yet, suffer it I did, as I was rock hard due to how utterly disgusting the whole experience was. Absolutely helpless to a shark’s body and words, like a mere plaything to an apex predator. Unable to budge his cock or fingers in the slightest and kept precisely where he wanted for as long as he wanted me there. I had no idea if this was heaven or hell, but I was condemned to this purgatory until I finally passed out.