	The King sat in his throne, slouching forward while gripping his sword in his paw. He was alone in his throne room like always; he preferred the royal guard to patrol the grounds instead.

        Being alone made the King’s Rot-corrupted mind wander. He brooded, unable to shake a deep-set paranoia that rested in the back of his mind. He knew that the clans of Armello plotted to dethrone him, but locking himself away in his ivory tower surrounded by soldiers would surely only work for so long. None had made a direct move against him yet, but between his Rot infection and potential usurpers, he felt he was living on borrowed time. His fears were realized one day, when the captain of the royal guard burst into his throne room.

        “Your majesty!” The guard yelled. He panted, clearly winded from running around. “Someone has broken into the palace grounds!”

        “What?!” The King roared. His eyes lit up with fury, but he also felt a pang of fear. “Who dares?!”

        “I’m not sure. None of the guards I’ve sent to arrest the invader have returned.” The captain admitted. “We’re mobilizing the entire garrison to conduct a manhunt now.”

        “Why are you just standing around, then? Go! Don’t come back until my palace is secure!” The King shouted. The guard winced at his harsh voice and left the room as quickly as he’d entered it.

        The King let out a low growl to himself. He tapped his foot impatiently while he awaited the news that the invader had been dealt with. Several long minutes went by, but still he heard nothing. He clutched his sword tight.

        It was about a half an hour later that the King heard shouting and weapons clashing just outside his throne room. He perked up and his eyes went wide with surprise, then he squinted and grit his teeth. He stood up from his throne, his eyes fixed on the entrance.

	Shortly afterwards the doors swung open and an injured royal guard flew through them, landing on the ground with a clatter. Thane walked in after him, panting in exertion and wielding a blood-covered sword.

        The King was filled with rage upon seeing that the invader was one of his own; a prominent hero from the Wolf Clan, no less. He let out a powerful roar that rattled the foundation of the palace and shook dust loose from the ceiling. “Traitor!” The King shouted. “I know why you’re here. I’ll have your head before you have my crown!”

        The wolf didn’t hesitate. He charged at the King with a snarl on his face, weapon raised. They met in the middle of the room where Thane sent a flurry of sword slashes at the King. Each was deflected by the lion’s larger weapon. The King had no trouble protecting himself from Thane’s attacks, as his form was sloppy and he was worn down from fighting all the way to the throne room.

        The moment Thane paused to regain his breath, the King retaliated with a blow of his own. He leveraged his greater size and strength, channeling it into an overhead swing. Thane noticed the sword in time to block it, saving his own life but stumbling backwards and nearly losing his footing as a result. He wobbled, then planted his feet in a wide stance to keep his balance.

	When the King sent a second swing his way, their blades met and they locked hilts. Thane gripped his sword with both hands, his arms trembling as he pushed back against the King’s weapon. The King visibly strained as well, and they struggled against each other’s raw strength for several moments.

        Thane could feel that he was losing the fight and was filled with fear, but also adrenaline. Using his newfound burst of strength, the wolf gradually gained leverage in their sword lock. The King snarled, refusing to be overpowered by such a contemptible enemy. The wolf was busy defending himself from the King’s sword above, so he was defenseless when he struck from below. The lion reared one of his legs back and bucked Thane in the chest.

        Thane’s hands were wrenched from his sword as he was sent flying to the ground. He grunted when he landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The King flung his attacker’s sword across the room and it clattered to the floor several yards away.

        Thane coughed several times, groaning in discomfort. Despite his pain and accumulating injuries, he struggled in an attempt to stand back up. When he failed, he looked around for his lost sword instead. Once he spotted it he frantically scrambled toward the weapon.

        Before the wolf could get his blade back, the King stomped on his back and he let out a yelp. He was slammed against the floor and pinned in place beneath the hulking lion’s weight, forcing a wheeze out of his lungs.

	Thane squirmed around beneath him, stubbornly trying to wiggle free. The King leaned forward in response, putting more of his body weight on the wolf’s back. He plunged his sword into the floor next to the wolf’s head with all his strength, embedding the blade several inches into solid stone.

        “It’s over. Stop resisting.” The King growled. “If you do not obey me, I will slay you here and be done with this whole affair.”

        Thane went still, staring with wide eyes at the sword that was only an inch away from his face. When the surprise wore off he wore a snarl of rage and frustration, doing as the lion asked and going limp beneath his weight. The King smiled and tore his sword out of the ground with ease.

	“Good. You may move.” The King said. He lifted his foot off of Thane’s back, finally allowing him to breathe properly. The wolf gasped and sputtered for air, filled with relief. He climbed to his knees and accepted defeat, giving up his attempts to escape. For the first time since he’d broken into the palace grounds, he spoke.

	“I am at your mercy…” Thane said. He had a resigned look on his face as he stared at the lion’s feet, expecting to receive only the harshest of punishments for his treason.

	“That you are, whelp.” The King said. He grinned to himself. “The first thing you will do as my prisoner is suffer.” He stated. Thane’s face sunk, and the King had a hearty chuckle.

	Thane’s gut twisted into knots. He rose to his feet, assuming he would be carried away to a dungeon or torture chamber somewhere deep underground. Before he could stand up, however, the King put a hand on his shoulder and forcefully shoved him back to his knees.

        “You’re already exactly where you need to be.” The King said. He lifted his paw from Thane’s shoulder and turned around so he was facing away from the wolf. This garnered a confused look from Thane, as he was left on eye-level with his butt. The King pushed his cloak to the side and lifted his armored skirt, taking a wide stance as he exposed his naked backside to the canine. His asscheeks were thickly furred and damp with sweat, which made them glisten in the sunlight. As soon as he uncovered himself the musky odor of his unwashed ass crack wafted into Thane’s nose, and he curled it.

        “Clean it off, whelp. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper cleaning.” The King ordered. Thane’s stomach sank, and he looked up at the lion with apprehension and outrage.

        “No…” Thane said. “Will you not treat your defeated foe with dignity? Kill me if you will, but don’t do this.” The King filled the throne room with thunderous laughter in response. Several moments passed before it occurred to him that the wolf was serious.

        “You fool. I am the king, what I say is law!” He declared. “I won’t ask again. Now get to it.” He said, raising a lip in a snarl as he looked at Thane over his shoulder. Thane hesitated still, filled with mixed feelings. “Well? What are you waiting for?!” The King roared, growing impatient.

        Filled with fear at the lion’s threatening words, Thane submitted and obeyed his command. He reluctantly leaned forward, hovering his shiny black nose in front of the lion’s butt. His nostrils flared as he took sniffs of the sour musk and winced, his sensitive canine nose burning. He allowed his tongue to loll out of his mouth, then lapped between the King’s ass cheeks with it. The flavor was as rancid as the smell, perhaps even more so, but Thane labored away regardless.

	The King let out a quiet purr as he felt the wolf’s warm, wet tongue cleaning within the crevice of his butt. Thane dutifully gathered his majesty’s sweat into his mouth, allowing it to pool beneath his tongue. After going up and down his crack several times it was more or less free of sweat, but it still reeked horribly of body odor. Thane pulled his face free and spit the sweat onto the ground, groaning in disgust.

        After Thane moved his face away the King let out a threatening growl, and he realized that he wasn’t yet satisfied. Fearful of punishment, he went back to worshiping with haste. He took one of the King’s ass cheeks into each of his hands and gently peeled them apart, exposing the depths of his crack as well as his pink-skinned butthole.

	The wolf stuffed his snout back into the King’s butt and started licking, going over his twitching hole several times. He whimpered at the nasty taste that lingered in his mouth, which faintly reminded him of brimstone. While there, Thane planted several wet smooches right on the male’s entrance, making the King’s fur stand on end. He gave a small shudder, enjoying the sensation. Though his prisoner couldn’t see it, the lion grew erect, his length straining against his decorated armor on the opposite side.

        Thane’s eyes snapped open when he heard his captor growling again. The true panic set in, though, when he realized the sound wasn’t coming from the lion’s throat, but from his stomach. The King’s belly rumbled loudly as he cooked up a large amount of toxic-smelling flatulence, which created an urgent pressure as it rushed through his intestines. Without giving his subject any warning, the King ripped ass right into his face, spewing a dark purple gas from his anus.

        Thane coughed violently, his eyes going bloodshot from the intensity of the stench. The force of the foul gust blew his fur back and filled his nose with the smell of rotting food and death. The wolf was stunned for several moments as he endured the harsh winds point-blank, holding his breath in an attempt to keep the smell out, but failing horribly. The odor of decaying meat made his stomach churn, and within an instant his appetite was erased. The fart finally ended after about ten or fifteen seconds, and the King sighed in pleasure.

        “Clean those fumes up with your nose.” He ordered, fanning a paw behind his ass to waft away some of the purplish fart gas. Thane heaved and coughed, looking miserable as tears formed in his eyes and his nose dribbled. The lion’s flatulence was so spicy and pungent that his throat closed up every time he tried to take in a breath. Eventually the lack of oxygen made his body relent, allowing him to huff in some of the fart despite the burning sensation it brought to his lungs. He moved his face away from the male’s butt and held his paws over his snout, trying to block out the odor in direct defiance of the King’s will.

        The King grew impatient. Instead of repeating himself, though, he reached back and grabbed Thane by his head. He slammed his face back into his ass, wedging his snout deep into his crack. The wolf struggled against the King, flailing his arms around as the male grunted and released a similarly smelly fart against his nose. The Rot-tainted flatulence rippled out of him, vibrating Thane’s face and adding a second dose of his paint-peeling stench to the atmosphere. The wolf felt weak and light headed as the fart rumbled on for as long as the first, his eyes going unfocused while the rancid methane was injected into his nose. Though he retched, it was inaudible over the blaring trumpet-like sound of the King’s unusually noisy fart.

        Once the fart was over and he felt he had made his point, the King pulled Thane out of his ass again. His face was drenched with sweat, and several thick strands of the sticky liquid connected him to the lion’s crack. The wolf groaned in disgust and exhaustion, still finding no escape from the smell as it lingered indefinitely in the air. The King released him and he fell flat on his back, collapsing into a pile on the floor.

        Just as Thane fell to the ground the doors of the throne room opened and a dozen royal guards rushed inside, ready for a fight. They stopped abruptly when they realized the invader had already been defeated. The King allowed his robe and armor to fall back into place, then turned around to face his guards.

        “You took your time, didn’t you?” The King remarked. He turned his attention back to Thane, who laid on the ground before him. “Shackle this traitor. Then bring him to my throne.” He said, pointing a clawed finger at the wolf. The guards did as he asked, and within a few moments Thane’s wrists and ankles were anchored to each other with iron cuffs. Thane squirmed as he was dragged to the King’s seat, then winced as he was thrown to the ground at the base of it. After carrying out their majesty’s command, the guards posted themselves around the throne room and on either side of the entrance for added security.

        The King returned to his throne and grabbed Thane’s snout. He craned his neck back and rested his head on the seat, leaving his face helpless and unprotected. He then unceremoniously plopped his butt down on the throne, wedging the wolf’s face between his furred butt cheeks and smothering him beneath his weight. The lion wore a sadistic grin on his face as Thane struggled beneath him.

        The King released a crude, wet fart into the wolf’s face. The emission echoed loudly, and Thane’s nose was assaulted with a wave of hot gas that smelled like burning garbage. He gagged and retched audibly, thrashing around in his chains while kicking his legs and letting out muffled cries for mercy.

        The King peppered the tortured wolf with short and airy farts, filling his nose with the smell of rotten cheese and drawing out a gag. While he shamelessly released his Rot-tainted flatulence, the resulting fumes gradually spread throughout the room and inevitably reached the noses of his guards. They were disciplined enough not to react at first, but at some point the stench became so rancid that one of them folded. The weak-willed guard coughed several times, drawing the attention of the others. The reeking methane seeped into his armor through the cracks, making the atmosphere inside of it humid and smelly. He coughed harder as the smell intensified, then broke into a fit of gagging. He frantically clawed at his armor in an attempt to get it off, feeling trapped and increasingly panicked. Finally, he collapsed forward onto the floor, unconscious.

	The King snickered as he watched his subordinate keel over from his stink, filled with pride. This was a regular occurrence, so he didn’t need to tell his men what to do. Two of the guards picked up the unconscious one and carried him out of the throne room, relieved that they themselves got a chance to escape the smell. The remaining guards kept in place, daring not to invoke their king’s wrath by fleeing his toxic gas cloud without reason.

	Thane groaned weakly, squirming beneath the lion to try and slip away. It felt hopeless to him, though; the King was much heavier and larger than he was, and he was already so worn down that his limbs felt like jelly. The King rubbed Thane’s defeat into his face by letting out a steamy fart against it, watching with amusement as he jerked his legs violently then went limp again. He bellowed out with laughter at the wolf’s tortured reactions, taking great pleasure in witnessing them.

	The King continued to rip ass on the failed usurper’s face throughout the day, forcing him to choke and wheeze on his gas whenever he pleased. When night came and it was time for the King to retire, Thane was dragged to the dungeons and given a cold cell to sleep in. He prayed that he would be spared from the King’s nauseating stench in the coming days, but his treatment thus far was only the beginning of what was to come.

	The wolf was mercilessly tortured beneath the lion’s ass, forced to lick and sniff it clean while being subject to his rancid farts. Day after day of being the plaything to a sadistic and stinky king wore down on Thane’s mind, and he soon found that it was difficult to keep his train of thought. He gradually became clueless about even the most simple of things, like what the date was. The only thing he could focus on for more than a few minutes was the next time he would be punished.

	The King’s Rot infection tainted every part of his body, even his digestive tract. With each fart, he released the Rot’s evil magic into his surroundings. It affected everything it touched, whether living or nonliving. Though its effects weren’t noticeable at first, with repeated exposure it would peel paint from walls and drain all the color from the palace banners. Thane was touched by the Rot as well, beginning with his very first whiff of the King’s gas. As he was forced to huff his farts over and over, the Rot accumulated in his body, and Thane too became infected.

	The Rot corrupted Thane in bizarre ways that he couldn’t understand. Though the King’s flatulence reeked just as badly as it did the first day he had arrived, he now reacted less violently to it. Soon enough, he stopped gagging and retching with every emission. From time to time he would even catch himself sniffing at the lion’s butt without thinking about it. He would curl his nose when this happened, disgusted by his own behavior.

	After being tortured for a week straight, the concept of ‘escape’ became meaningless to Thane. He could hardly remember what the outside world looked like, or how fresh air smelled. After another week, he lost all memories of his clan and his life outside the palace.

	The King’s ass vibrated, shaking Thane’s head in a forceful fart and prompting the wolf to sniff it all up. This response became habitual to him; when his master cut a fart on his face, he obediently breathed it in. There was nothing more to it than that, at least in his own thoughts. The King took notice of his cushion’s growing obedience, and observed his reactions with interest.

	Several weeks after his attempt at regicide, Thane was being walked from his dungeon cell to the throne room by an escort of guards. Just like every other day, they forced him to crawl to his destination on his hands and knees. It was a humiliating practice that he despised since his first trip to the dungeon. Normally he reacted with shame, hanging his head low and tucking his tail between his legs. Now, the defeated hero drooled over himself while being paraded around the palace, his eyes empty. He looked like a husk of his former self; his pride was shattered, and he had completely lost his ability to think.

	The party arrived at the throne room and, like usual, the guards dragged Thane to the King. They threw him down at his feet, the wolf’s chains rattling as they did so. Rather than fighting back, though, Thane kept still. He knelt before his king and stared at the ground, silent. The King raised an eyebrow as he watched him, surprised at his compliance. Rather than ordering his guards to shove the wolf’s face beneath his butt, the King rose from his throne and grabbed Thane’s chin. He tilted his head upwards and forced him to meet his gaze, then closely examined his face. He saw nothing behind his eyes.

	“What is your name?” The King asked. Thane was silent as the gears turned in his brain. The lion waited, but still he said nothing. “Listen to me, slave.” The King said, speaking again. “What. Is. Your. Name?”

	“Name…?” Thane slurred out. He wracked his brain as he tried to remember, but he simply couldn’t. He swayed side to side, looking dizzy from the effort he put into thinking. “My name is… my name is…” Thane murmured, his voice trailing off. The King wore a wide grin. He interrupted the wolf, changing the topic before he hurt his broken little brain trying to remember.

	“I have a special treat for you today.” The King said, talking down to Thane like he was a house pet. “I had a delightful breakfast with lots of eggs, meat, and cheese. It made me quite gassy, though. Would you like a taste?” He asked, grinning.

	Thane looked conflicted. He was quiet for a few moments, fighting with the Rot over control of his body. Though he struggled as hard as he could, the dark influence of his infection overpowered him. He looked up at the lion and nodded slowly in affirmation.

	“Good.” The King whispered. He smirked, realizing it was no longer necessary to force Thane to be his fart slave. The lion let go of his face and stepped to the side, gesturing to his throne. Thane crawled toward it and got into position, resting the back of his head on his master’s seat. He opened his maw wide and allowed his tongue to flop out to the side in preparation for his treat. The lion seated himself on Thane’s open mouth, smothering it against his hole.

	“Wrap your lips around it.” The King ordered. Thane did as he asked, sealing his puckered lips against the lion’s butthole. The wolf knew what was coming, and he salivated in anticipation of it.

	A powerful fart rumbled from the King’s ass, filling Thane’s mouth with methane. His cheeks puffed out with its volume, filling to the brim with the flavorful gas. He gulped it down hungrily, growing more eager after getting a taste. Despite his newly acquired lust for the eggy emissions, the stench was so intense that his body reacted in revulsion. His eyes went pink and tears streamed from them, while his fart chugging was occasionally interrupted by a guttural retch or dry heave. The burning gas was torturous to ingest and smell, yet he couldn’t shake his craving for more. 

	After pumping his slave’s stomach full of farts, the King shifted his butt up to Thane’s nose. The wolf’s mouth was freed and he began gasping for air while belching up some of the gas he had swallowed. To help him regain his breath the King released a wet fart against his nostrils, and Thane breathed it in with bliss. The sound of the canine sniffing and huffing were clearly audible between each ear-rattling fart, which pleased the King greatly.


* * *


	Thane lived the rest of his days as the King’s obedient drone. After the Rot infected him and caused him to mellow out, the King allowed him to move out of the dungeon and into his living quarters, where he was available to huff his farts any time of the day.

	Thane was almost always beneath the King’s ass, whether he was servicing him on his throne or being dutch ovened in his bed overnight. Any time he didn’t spend doing these things he spent following him around the palace on all fours. Wherever the King went his fart slave followed close behind, hovering around his backside to sniff up any emissions he happened to release.

	Thane’s presence was especially appreciated at feasts, during which he would swallow or sniff the King’s rancid butt belches before any of the guests had time to smell them. Thane himself was excited for these occasions as well, as his master’s flatulence was often more smelly and flavorful than usual; the food served was hand-selected by the King himself to be as gas-inducing as possible.

	Over time, word of Thane’s defeat and humiliation spread throughout the realm of Armello. For many moons the Wolf Clan became the laughing stock of its neighboring clans, who would make fun of their shameful defeat behind their backs. According to their rumors, the once-proud hero had been enslaved and forced to partake in degrading and unclean rituals. The specifics were debated, but those sparse few who visited the palace for themselves learned the sickening truth…