By: AReturned
PART 1
Thorrin Garner trekked through the jungle wilderness, slicing through a tangle of vines with his shortsword. A great tree root snagged his foot and almost sent him sprawling. Looking up at the early morning sky, he checked the sun’s position and realised he’d somehow gotten turned around again.
He was, without a doubt, lost.
“Never buy a map off a goblin,” he muttered, pulling out the crude sketch again to see if he could make any more sense of it. If that squiggly line was intended to be the mountain he’d seen earlier, that would put him vaguely on the right track, he supposed… but it should also have put him, according to the drawing, in the middle of an enormous lake.
He cursed, tossing the useless parchment away. All he could do was march onward. If he kept heading north he had to reach civilization eventually; the danger was if he’d accidentally strayed too far west. Dark tales were told of the heart of the Nybian jungle, where wanderers were known to vanish without a trace, and unknown creatures left colossal footprints in the earth.
Thorrin pushed past a leaf near as big as he was and came to a sheltered clearing. Above the treeline, the summit of a distant mountain glinted. “There’s some progress,” he smiled, and stepped forward.
The ground gave way beneath him.
He barely had time to realise he was falling before he slammed into a hard-packed earthen floor. He grunted, winded, but luckily nothing seemed to be broken. Looking around he found himself in a small circular dirt hole about ten feet deep.
“This is a hunting pit,” he realised, horror-struck. And that wasn’t even the worst thing. He could already feel the ground tremble and hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The hunter was on their way.
In a panic, flashes of monsters from every childhood story flooded his brain. What was coming? A troll? An ogre? He clutched his sword and crouched low, defending himself as best he could.
But the figure that appeared above the rim of the pit wasn’t some grotesque beast. It was a woman – quite an attractive woman, in fact, if a little unwashed. She had green eyes, pouty lips, and a bone ornament woven into her dirty blonde hair. She wore only a few tattered rags to cover herself, putting most of her thick, muscular form (and enormous chest) on display. And she appeared to be about five times his size.
“An amazon!” Thorrin gasped.
“What? Tiny man?” The giantess scowled. She held a spear in one hand, a coil of rope in the other. “This boar pit. Why tiny man in boar pit?”
“I, uh, fell,” he shouted up. “Sorry.” His fear was fading now. This was no monster; he could talk to her, reason with her. She might even be able to help him with directions.
It had to be said though, the look on her face was worrying. “Can’t eat man,” she grumbled. “Have to fix trap again. Waste of time.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry.” He repeated lamely. “So... could you give me a hand getting out of here?”
For a few moments she just stood there staring at him. Then a nasty looking smile split her face. “No. Pit good place for tiny.”
“Huh? What are you doing?!” Thorrin cried, panicked, as the giantess began to squat above the pit.
When she sat down on the hole her ass completely sealed the opening, blocking out all light except a thin sliver between her thighs. If he squinted, he could look right up beneath her rags into the depths of her crack, and a thin fur strap that served as her underwear.
“Little man, time for punishment,” she grunted. He could hear a slight strain in her voice, and his eyes widened as he realised what was about to happen.
“Wait! Don’t!”
PPPHHHRRRAAPPPP
In an instant, the pit was transformed into a noxious, steaming hellhole. The amazon’s thick, hot fart swirled around him like a poison fog, stinging his eyes and clinging to his skin. The stink forced its way up his nostrils even without him trying to take a breath, and he choked immediately on the scent of rotting vegetation.
“Like smell?” The giantess laughed sadistically. “Got more!”
FFFFPPPPAAAARRRRPPP
Another thundering blast seemed to shake the very walls of the pit. This one was lower in pitch, and had a distinctly meaty aroma that brought Thorrin to the brink of vomiting.
He had to get out, he knew. He had to beg for mercy. The problem was, he wasn’t sure he could actually form a sentence – opening his mouth even for a second filled his lungs with a flood of her anal air and sent him into a coughing fit.
“Please, stop!” He finally managed to croak. “I’m very sorry, I – gag – just let me out! I’ll do anything!”
“What?” The thighs overhead parted, just enough to see the amazon’s face peering down at him. “Can’t hear, puny voice man. Want more farts?”
BARRRRRRFFFF
“Ahhh! More farts for tiny!” She laughed, slamming her legs shut as Thorrin began to scream.
She continued to torture him mercilessly for at least another hour. Short farts, long farts, whisper-quiet hissers and monstrous cannon-fire blasts, each added its own unique scent to the miasma of stink that surrounded him.
Thorrin had long since collapsed to the ground, huddled on the floor just to put an extra few inches between himself and the giantess’s rancid ass. It made no difference. The gas wafted around him lazily, waiting patiently for his inevitable inhale. With the only exit blocked, there was nowhere for it to go but his nose.
BOOOOOORRRPP
“Please…” he mumbled, barely coherent, as he inhaled her newest rotten release. It was difficult just to think straight. At this point, there was hardly any left in the pit that hadn’t first passed through her intestines.
Above, meanwhile, his giantess captor was quietly astonished. The little human was still awake! Amazon gas was widely feared for its power and stink, with few able to take more than two or three direct farts without collapsing. Gorra was no slouch among her tribe, either; she was proud to boast that she had once knocked out a famed orc battle-chief with a single blast from her rear.
And yet, this puny little creature was still conscious after enduring half a hundred farts. He was weakened, of course. More than once he had gone so quiet she was sure he must finally be asleep, but when she spread her legs to check she would find him staring up at her pathetically, mumbling pleas for mercy.
It was impressive. In it’s own strange way, it was a kind of strength. And strength was something her tribe valued very highly.
She nodded, having reached her decision.
Thorrin was still crouched in the pit, praying to every god, demon and divine being in the sky to end his torture. He felt a rumble and winced, bracing himself for another stinking gale. But none came. Instead he looked up to see the opening of the pit clear again, the amazon standing above.
“Still awake, little man,” she remarked. “Not bad. Good sniffer, yes?”
He stared up at her blearily. The pit was still thick with her fumes, making it hard to concentrate.
“Good sniffer,” she repeated, and uncoiled the rope she had put to one side. Thorrin clung on with all his might as she lifted him up effortlessly and deposited him on the grass at her feet. He knelt there gasping for several minutes, relishing every blessedly fresh lungful of air.
Eventually he felt recovered enough for a conversation. “Thank you for letting me out of there,” he began cautiously. “I’m sorry I broke your trap.”
“Yes. Very stupid.” She pointed a thumb at herself. “Name Gorra.”
“Oh, um – my name is Thorrin. Thorrin Garner.”
She frowned at that. “No. Bad name, too long. Your new name... Thong.” She reached into her crack to pull out the tight fur strap, then let it snap back into place. “Like this. See?”
“...right.” Accepting his very insulting title without complaint, he got shakily to his feet. “Well, Gorra, I’m sorry again for wandering into your territory. I promise you I’ll never do that again. In fact I’m going to leave right now and never return, so I’ll just say goodbye and – “
“No.” Gorra interrupted.
“N-no?” Thorrin took a step back, fearful again. The sheer size difference between them was staggering; he wasn’t even eye level with her crotch. “What do you mean?”
“Thong only punished for breaking trap,” she explained. “Thong still guilty of trespassing. Need meet village chief for judgement.” She grinned, pointing west, deep into the heart of the jungle. “Thong come back to village now.”
Thorrin went pale. “No! Wait!” He protested, backing up further, waving his arms in terror. “Wait, wait, hold on! I can’t! I can’t go with you, because, uh – ” his mind raced. “Because I’m too tired! And tiny, and puny, remember? I’ll never make it that far!”
“Fine. Gorra will carry.”
She had him in her grip before he could even think to run. He half expected to be slung over her shoulder, but instead she shoved him to the ground and pinned him there with one colossal foot. Then with her hands free, she took the rope and wrapped it around her waist, fashioning a kind of makeshift belt.
It wasn’t until she began tying the other ends of the rope to Thorrin’s arms that he understood. “Oh, no,” he whimpered. “No. No! Wait! I’m fine, actually – I’ll just walk!”
Gorra ignored him. She stood straight, pulled the rope tight, and Thorrin was jerked upright, a few steps toward the amazon. Another pull yanked him between her legs. The next lifted him straight off his feet, dangling beneath her.
He struggled with all his might, but was powerless to stop the giantess as she shoved him up her hungry crack. The crushing weight of her warm, sweaty buttocks enveloped him. Her ass stank even worse than the pit – thick with the smell of her farts, but also something worse. It was clear her tribe wasn’t big on wiping.
“Fits good,” Gorra muttered as she finished securing him in place. She made additional knots tying his wrists to her hips and his ankles to her thighs, so there was no chance of him coming loose. Then, after a thought, she reached beneath her rags and pulled off her fur underwear, tossing them into the trees.
“Now Thong is Gorra’s thong!” She declared, laughing. “So? Comfy?”
Thorrin opened his mouth wide to scream. It proved to be bad timing.
PPPHHHHRRRRROOORRRRPP
The searing hot gas filled his mouth so quickly, he took three involuntary gulps before he even understood what was happening. Then, it was all he could do not to vomit. The flavour was beyond awful, by far the worst he’d ever tasted. It felt like his tongue had just been used as her personal toilet paper.
He wasn’t even close to recovering when his fleshy prison began to shift. The meaty buttocks on either side rubbed up and down, grinding his head between them, and through his tied hands he could feel the powerful muscles in Gorra’s thighs at work.
“Wait,” he croaked, still coughing up fart. “Wait! Please, stop!”
“Quiet now, Thong.” Gorra commanded. “Long walk ahead.”
With that, there was nothing else he could do. Thorrin hung limply and allowed himself to be carried off, to accept whatever fate had in store for him once they arrived at the amazon village. He could only pray it would not be too smelly.
PART 2
The amazon village was as huge and intimidating as its inhabitants. Great huts of wood and woven straw lined the main pathway, each big enough to house twenty normal men. Mighty stone pillars and cavernous pits lay strewn amongst the buildings, and the angry face of some savage god had been carved into a cliff face that loomed over the village.
Thorrin gawped up at the enormous structures in amazement as he was led between them. Gorra, his giantess captor, had let him out of her butt a few minutes before arriving at the village so that he could walk in on his own two feet. His arms were still bound with rope, however, and she held the other end as a kind of leash. Now as they walked she gave it a sharp tug.
“Too slow, Thong,” the blonde warned. “Hurry up. Or going back in ass.”
Thorrin hurried forward again, jogging to keep pace just behind her bouncing buttocks.
As Gorra led him on toward the village centre, other amazons began to take notice of their rare visitor. They emerged from their huts to watch him pass, pointing, muttering and laughing. Some were taller than others, though none were less than three times his size. Some were rippling with muscle while others bulged with fat. Some wore rags like Gorra, or animal skins, or bone, and a few were entirely naked. All were staring at him with expressions of curiosity, or sadistic excitement.
Before long a crowd of over forty huge women were following them, and more joining them all the time. Thorrin nervously huddled closer to Gorra for protection, only to walk face-first into her ass when the amazon stopped suddenly. She went to one knee and bowed her head in respect.
“Greetings, Warrior Chief Vulgaar,” she declared.
Thorrin gawped. Sat in the middle of the village centre, using a great stone obelisk as her personal throne, was the chieftain of the amazons. Vulgaar was by far the largest of the tribe, both in height and muscle mass. Her arms and legs were as thick as tree trunks, her breasts like two fleshy mountains. She had bronze skin, wavy, dark red hair that came to her shoulders, and wore only a leopard-skin bra and panties. She was sat with one leg crossed over the other, using the tusk of some huge creature as a colossal toe-pick.
Vulgaar did not respond to Gorra’s greeting. She seemed to be more interested in the dirt beneath her feet.
“Chief Vulgaar,” Gorra repeated. “I bring prisoner. Name Thong. Tiny man, trespass on our lands.”
The glance the chieftain spared him lasted less than a second. “What of it? Kill him and be done.”
Thorrin almost fainted at that, but Gorra pressed on. “Yes. Tiny man pathetic and weak, but… good sniffer. I fart on him in hunting pit, many times, still awake. Even when shove him in ass, still awake. Screams like coward but, no sleep, always smelling.” She scratched her head. “Gorra think, maybe… little man face trials?”
A murmur ran through the crowd behind them. Vulgaar looked up slowly, first at the amazon, then at him. “Is that so?” Her voice was sultry, more intelligent than the other women.
The giantess reached down and snatched him off the ground, her hand easily big enough to wrap around his entire waist. She casually tore off his rope bindings as she lifted him to her face for a closer look.
Thorrin swallowed uneasily as the chieftain inspected him, poking and prodding at his body, squeezing what little muscles he had between her fingers. She licked her lips and opened her mouth wide, unleashing a wave of hot, humid air that washed over him; then, to his panic, she began to draw him closer!
“No, stop!” He shouted, squirming uselessly in her grip. “Don’t eat me!”
BUUUUUURRRRPPPPPPPPP
A colossal belch roared out from between the amazon’s lips. The warm, wet wind blasted Thorrin’s face, blowing his hair back and dotting his face in spittle. The smell was rancid – he could taste the acidity of half-digested meat – but compared to the farts he’d already endured, it was practically pleasant.
After a few seconds, Vulgaar held him out for another look. “Hmm.” She made a mildly impressed noise. “As Gorra claimed. Not bad, for such a tiny, pathetic worm-like creature.”
“Um… thank you?”
She grunted, lowering him slightly before dropping him to the ground, a distance that was still a good few metres. He lay on the earth beside the chieftain’s dirty feet and was instantly attacked by the cheesy stench wafting off of them, though he tried not to show his revulsion on his face.
“Very well. Thong, was it? I have made my decision.” Said Vulgaar. “You are an intruder upon our lands, a crime for which the punishment is death. However, you have shown surprising resilience for your size, so perhaps you are not as shamefully weak as you appear. I therefore offer you a chance to save your life.”
A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd behind him, although Thorrin was too anxious to look away from the chieftain.
“You will face the Trials of the Amazons,” Vulgaar declared. “Three challenges to test the strength of your body and your spirit. Pass, and you will earn your life back. Fail…” She smiled nastily. “...and I will shove you up my asshole, never again to see the light of day.”
Thorrin gulped. He’d never been the best at working under pressure, let alone with the prospect of such a grisly fate hanging over him. But if there was ever a time to rise to the occasion, this was it.
He made himself stand, puffing up his chest. “Bring it on!” He shouted. “I will conquer your challenges, and prove my worth as an adventurer!”
He’d meant it to sound heroic, but the response from the women behind him was mostly laughter and mockery.
“We’ll see. Whatever happens, I expect it will be very entertaining.” The chieftain chuckled. “Listen well, Thong! Your first challenge, the Trial of Strength, begins now. This introductory task is a simple one. All you need to do is fetch my boot from my house on the other side of the village.”
He blinked. “That’s it? Just bring your boot back here?”
“That’s it. My house is at the end of the main path, a straight line from here. There is no time limit, but you cannot leave the path, nor may you faint, collapse or otherwise succumb to exhaustion.” She waved a hand. “Go on, then. Prove yourself.”
Thorrin almost laughed aloud. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe he’d been worrying over nothing. Maybe these “trials” would be a breeze!
When he turned around, his confidence died inside him.
In front of him, the amazons of the village were gathering in two rows lining the main road. Each were facing outward – or rather, pointing their rears in. In other words, the path to the chieftain’s house would effectively take him through a tunnel of countless humongous asses, all aimed at his eye-level.
“This trial is also called ‘The Journey of a Thousand Winds’.” Came Vulgaar’s voice, behind him. “Is there a problem? You were a lot more optimistic a minute ago.”
“No... it’s nothing.” It was his own fault. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Still, it didn’t change what he had to do; the only path forward was the one straight ahead, no matter how vile.
He took a breath to steady himself, then began.
Thorrin rushed at the first pair of amazons, sprinting as fast as he could. If every second on this road was going to be hell, then it only made sense to get through it as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it became immediately obvious that this strategy wasn’t going to work.
FFFPPPPAAAAAARRRTTTTTTTTT
The moment he set foot on the path, the amazon to his left – scarred and raven-haired, with a firm, muscular ass – cut a monstrous, bassy fart in his face. The sheer force of it knocked him sideways, and he staggered, gagging on the scent of sulfur, only to run straight into the other fat buttocks waiting on his right.
“Bug man like Chal’s ass!” The bronze, thick-thighed woman laughed, squeezing her cheeks around his head. “Reward for bug man!”
BBRRRRUUUUMMMMMMFFFF
Thorrin was blasted back out again, now smelling strongly of spoiled milk. Head spinning, he took a moment to focus before attempting to sprint past the next pair of amazons. This time he was ready, determined not to be knocked off course by their gas.
Instead, the amazons slammed their asses together the instant he passed between them.
PAAAARRRPPPPP
BLLOOOOOORRRRRRFFFFF
Twin farts exploded on either side of his head like two deafening, wet trumpets. The warm, soft flesh of the giantess’ asses crushed his body, but left his head in a pocket between their cracks, trapped with the ripe stench of their gas. Thorrin moaned, cooking in the scent of their bowels.
When they finally released him, Thorrin was too woozy to see straight. He took a few weakened steps, and heard laughter.
“Wrong way, puny!” Someone shouted. “Unless want more stink?”
Thorrin gritted his teeth, turned around, and continued his journey.
It was clear now that blind speed wasn’t the way to go. Too much haste and he risked losing control, being blown about more easily by farts. The trick was to move quickly but carefully, at a steady pace that allowed him to keep his balance and dodge some of the amazon’s attempts to smother him.
That said, it was by no means easy. With every step he was assailed by wind so rancid that just breathing sapped the energy out of him. The constant taunts and threats, plus the sight of dozens of jiggling booties surrounding him all served to shake his concentration, and if he lost focus for even a second –
SLAM
A chubby amazon with dark-brown skin and possibly the largest ass in the entire village crashed down on top of him, pinning his legs beneath one cheek. Thorrin pushed desperately at the ass-meat, trying to dig himself free, but it was no use. He wasn’t going anywhere until she let him.
SSSSBBBLLUUURRRRRFFFFF
A greasy fart rippled angrily through her crack and seeped up right in his face. His pathetic groans only seemed to excite the amazon, who began bouncing up and down on his trapped legs.
“Nice wiggle, tiny! Keep tickling Mishe’s ass!”
The journey went on for what felt like hours, even though the path couldn’t have been more than half a mile long. But eventually, somehow, Thorrin found himself nearing the end.
He staggered up towards Vulgaar’s house. This was no straw hut, like the other amazon dwellings, but a massive stone temple with tribal patterns carved into the walls, and oil fires burning to either side of the entrance. At the base of the main steps a familiar face was waiting for him.
“Good job, Thong.” Gorra grinned as he approached. “But only halfway done. Hard part now.”
“I know,” he panted, wiping sweat off his brow. “Just give me a second before I…”
“No resting. Or Gorra give gas.” The blonde giantess reached over and dropped something heavy beside him. “Here, for trial.”
Thorrin paled. “This – this is Vulgaar’s boot?” The thing was as big as he was! It was made of fur and leather, caked in dirt, and the stench of sweat leaking out from the opening was indescribable. Which made sense, as it was likely the only footwear the chieftain owned.
“Hurry up now, Thong. Bring back to Warrior Chief. No breaks,” Gorra reminded him.
“No breaks,” Thorrin nodded wearily. He grabbed a fastening strap and yanked hard, barely shifting the boot. With both hands he tried again and, pulling with all his might, managed this time to drag it a few metres. He looked back up at the main path toward Vulgaar and the forest of booty waiting for him.
“Shit. I might be trouble here,” he muttered.
As hard as the first half of the trial had been, it was nothing compared to the return trip. Dragging the boot took every ounce of strength Thorrin had in him. After only a few minutes he was dripping in perspiration, and the muscles in his arms were screaming.
Worse, his agonisingly slow pace gave the amazons all the time they wanted to torture him. A single giantess could fart on him four or five times now before he finished crossing their path, and if any of them decided to sit on him, avoiding them was practically impossible.
One amazon, younger and more slender than the others and wearing a bone nose piercing, waved happily at him as he trudged past. “Got big gas coming, tiny! Get ready! Big sniffs!”
She turned and spread her cheeks wide, aiming her ass at him like a cannon. Her twin moons tracked his movement almost leisurely. Thorrin could only stare miserably into her crack as he went, knowing there was no chance of getting out of the way in time.
FFFFFFBBBBAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRFFFFF
The fart crashed over him like a wave, scorching hot, reeking of meat and something spicy. It stung his eyes and throat at the same time; he doubled over coughing as he tried to shield his face from the peppery stink.
When he opened his eyes, blinking tears out of the way, a vision of the long road ahead stretched before him. Far in the distance he could make out Vulgaar, waiting on her obelisk throne with a knowing grin on her face.
“I’m not going to make it,” Thorrin realised. With every passing second he was losing energy, forcing him to slow down. That meant inhaling more farts, which in turn made him even weaker. It was a vicious spiral with only one possible end – him, disappearing forever up Vulgaar’s booty.
If he could get a moment to catch his breath, just a moment, maybe he could recover enough to keep going. But he was forbidden to leave the main pathway. And there wasn’t a single square inch on it that wasn’t polluted by amazon gas.
Except…
Thorrin spun around, hurrying back toward his heavy cargo. With all his remaining strength he pulled the boot until it toppled over – then he got on his hands and knees, and wormed his way inside!
The inside of Vulgaar’s boot was dark, damp, and thick with the smell of cheesy, vinegary feet. The air in here was so humid, so saturated with sweat that he could taste it just opening his mouth. But as foul as it smelled, it was oxygen, not methane. “I can breathe.” He gulped down great lungfuls of foot-flavoured air, and gave a shaky laugh. “I can breathe!”
A few minutes later, Thorrin crawled back to face the outside world. He was met at once with a chorus of boos and jeers, but he paid the angry amazons no mind. He had all the energy he needed now. He was going to see this through to the end.
That was how, countless farts, butt-crushes and forced ass-kisses later, Thorrin shoved his way through the final pair of amazons. With a pained groan, he heaved the dirty footwear at the throne of its owner.
“One boot. Delivered as requested.” And at last he collapsed to the floor, exhausted.
Vulgaar stared down at him. Her smile was gone now, the expression on her face neutral. “That was an interesting display, little man.” She said. “I have never before heard of a challenger climbing inside an amazon’s footwear for respite.”
Thorrin shrugged. “But I didn’t leave the path, right? I didn’t break the rules.”
“Hm... I suppose not. Though now I think about it, it seems a strange condition for victory. I have two feet. What am I to do with only one boot?” She wiggled her enormous toes. “Maybe I should send you back again.”
He paled at that. There was no way he had a second trip in him.
But mercifully, the chieftain laughed. “No, I will not cheat you. You completed the task as was set out. Congratulations, Thong. You have passed the Trial of Strength!”
Thorrin sighed with relief. Behind him, the other amazons were gathering back in the village centre. A few of them cheered at his achievement, but more stayed silent, and some were visibly angrily.
“Little man used coward’s trick,” one giantess grunted.
“Hiding in boot not strength,” another agreed. “If tiny like feet so much, give to Mishe. Mishe will wear until tiny stomped flat as bug!”
“Silence!” Vulgaar shouted, rising furiously. “I say the human has passed his first trial. If any of you would deny my judgement, come and do so with spear in hand.”
No-one moved. The warrior chief continued to glare at them as she slowly sat back down.
“The human has passed his first trial,” she repeated, “but he has two more yet to face, and hiding will not save him next time. We will soon learn the true measure of his worth.”
Vulgaar looked down at him and smiled maliciously. A shiver ran down Thorrin’s spine.
“Prepare yourself, Thong. Your second trial begins soon.”
PART 3
Thorrin had hoped for a decent chance to rest after his ordeal in the Trial of Strength. Nothing much. Just a comfortable place to relax, a little food and water, maybe even an hour or two to sleep.
Unfortunately, he had made the mistake of expecting mercy from Vulgaar, warrior chieftain of the amazons. Who had responded to his request by picking him up, and clamping his face immediately under her armpit.
He grimaced and twisted his cramped body, trying to find a spot that didn’t leave his face pressed up against her sour, sweat-soaked skin. Not that it made much difference; the ripe stink of her body odour enveloped him from every angle. He might as well look for the driest part of a lake to go swimming in.
Thorrin sighed miserably, inhaling the aroma of a pit that had gone many years without the touch of clean water. A fat bead of sweat rolled down her skin and over his face, coating him in its sticky, salty flavour. “I suppose I should be grateful she isn’t sitting on me.”
When Vulgaar’s arm finally lifted, and he was pulled back out into the sunlight, Thorrin was almost excited for the next trial to begin.
The chieftain dumped him on the ground at her feet. She was still sat on her obelisk throne, and they were still surrounded by the rest of the village amazons, looking on from a respectful distance. The scene from the end of his first trial did not appear much different.
“Welcome back, Thong,” Vulgaar smiled down at him. “I trust you enjoyed your little break.”
He grit his teeth. Obviously he had not, but he didn’t want to provoke her. “I did. Thank you.”
“You still seem tired, though.” The chieftain observed. “Do you require more time before your next task? Somewhere clean, quiet, peaceful?”
“Well...” He replied, wary. “Yes, I do. Please.”
“That’s a shame.” She nodded at an attending amazon behind him.
Suddenly a colossal spear was stabbed into the ground, mere inches behind him. Thorrin’s wrists were tied behind his back, securing him to the shaft. Vulgaar then stood and spread her arms wide, facing the crowd of amazons.
“Our preparations are complete. The human’s second trial begins now!”
The tribe roared their excitement, shouting, laughing and stomping their feet. Thorrin, still too weak to stand, felt the very earth shake beneath his knees.
Vulgaar paced slowly before the crowd. “The first trial was a test of brawn,” she declared. “But a true warrior possesses cunning as well as strength of arm. Our guest must now face the Trial of the Mind.” She halted. “Rogues! Target! Step forward.”
A handful of women emerged from the crowd, joining Thorrin and Vulgaar in the village centre. A quick headcount revealed twenty giantesses; he recognised Gorra among them, as well as several women from the first trial whose names he didn’t recall.
“You’re a popular man, Thong. Nearly the entire tribe offered to participate in this task. I hand-picked this group myself, based on the stench of their gas.” Said Vulgaar. “Next, the blindfold!”
The same attendant now wrapped a rag over Thorrin’s eyes.
For a period after, nothing happened. Thorrin waited in his kneeling position, unable to see, with no idea what was going on.
He fidgeted. “Am I supposed to be doing something – ”
FFFBORRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFF
Thorrin was interrupted by a mighty fart to the face, ripped by someone apparently standing right in front of him. He shook his head, coughing and gagging, until the stench of the gas began to dissipate. Only then was the blindfold removed.
The view in front of him was unchanged. Vulgaar stood in front of the same group of twenty amazons, all grinning at his confusion.
“Your goal in this task is to identify which of these amazons just graced you with their scent. The one Target amongst nineteen Rogues. To aid your choosing, you may ask any of them to fart on you, as often as you like. But think carefully before giving your answer, Thong. You will have one attempt only, and should you declare incorrectly…” The chieftain traced a line over the curve of her enormous booty.
Thorrin felt ill. “I’m supposed to guess who just farted on me? By sniffing all of theirs?” He barely remembered what it had smelled like already!
“You may request to smell the Target’s fart, while blindfolded, three more times. I suggest you use those opportunities wisely.” Vulgaar stomped past him, seating herself on her throne to enjoy the show. “Now, little Thong, let us see if you have the intelligence to survive in my village. The Trial of the Mind is begun!”
*
“Alright,” Thorrin swallowed. “Uh. You, on the left. I’ll smell your fart first.”
“Name Kug,” the giantess grinned. She was tall, even for an amazon, and powerfully built, with blue hair styled in a mohawk. “Thong make good choice. Big fart brewing.”
He watched nervously as the colossal woman stomped toward him, reflexively straining his wrists despite the rope tying them behind his back. Once beside him, Kug turned and squat until her humongous cheeks hovered just above his head, her animal-print loincloth gently brushing the top of his hair.
BRRRRAAARRRRRRPPPP
The fart tore at him like a rancid hurricane, blasting his head back and stinging his eyes. It also stank, naturally, though Thorrin forced himself to sniff it anyway. But the scent left him disappointed as well as disgusted.
“Damn it.” He’d been hoping the odour would help jog his memory of what the Target’s had smelled like, give him something to compare it to. That plan was a failure. He couldn’t even be sure Kug wasn’t the Target herself. There was no point continuing without some idea of what to look out for.
“Okay. I want to use my first life-line.” He sighed.
“Already?” Vulgaar smirked. “This may be over sooner than I thought. I hope you’ll at least try to entertain us.” Still, she waved a hand to summon the attendant.
Soon Thorrin was blindfolded again. This time he knew what was coming, and made sure he was ready.
FFFBORRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFF
“Uhh,” he moaned, forcing himself to inhale as long and deep as possible. Even a faint whiff of amazon gas was stomach-churning; willingly filling your lungs with the stuff was another level of hell. But he had to familiarise himself with the aroma, carefully explore the depth of its flavour, each hint and tang of foulness. His life depended on it.
By the time the blindfold came off Thorrin was practically drunk on methane, but he had no time to recover. “Next, please,” he mumbled woozily. He had to keep going, while the scent was fresh in his mind.
Thorrin’s first strategy was simple. He just went down the line of amazons, from left to right, smelling a fart from each in turn.
BBBWWWUURRRRRFFFFF
“Ugghh. Okay, not her,” he gagged, wishing he could wave a hand in front of his face. The Target’s fart had smelled meaty, he recalled. He didn’t know what kind, but there had definitely been meat in there. Whereas this amazon’s gas stank purely of rotting vegetables.
The problem was, there were only a few amazons he could eliminate this way. Each giantess had their own unique scent, but in the end a fart was a fart. Most could be summed up as smelling ‘bad’. It was just too difficult to tell one from the other.
Of course, there were exceptions. “You, please,” he nodded at the next warrior in line.
Most of the women had some mocking comment to make when Thorrin addressed them. This one was silent, however. She was slender, pale as snow, with long, wavy hair so blonde it was almost white. She was beautiful – not just among the amazons, but one of the most lovely women Thorrin had ever seen. She was also entirely naked.
“Her name is Gost,” muttered Vulgaar, as the giantess approached. Gost came and stood directly over Thorrin, facing him, not turning as the others had done. Her bright blue eyes shone down into his over the curve of her breasts. Behind him, he noticed the attendant amazon backing away.
HHHFFFFFFFFPPAAAARRRRRRPPP
Thorrin’s eyes widened. “Oh, god!” He hacked and spat, wriggling frantically to get free of the ropes binding him to the spear. “Not her! It’s not her!”
This was by far the worst thing Thorrin had ever smelled – a stench so rank it was almost painful to inhale, burning his nose and tongue, filling him with the taste of pure, unfiltered shit. As he writhed Gost remained still, watching curiously at the little man struggling in her stink.
“Please! It’s not her!” He shouted again, desperate for her to leave and take her odour with her.
“That’s enough, Gost,” Vulgaar chuckled, waving the pale beauty away. Gost’s eyes lingered on Thorrin a moment longer, before she left without a word.
After that Thorrin continued his strategy without major incident. It wasn’t long before he’d smelled a fart from each of the twenty amazons… but unfortunately, he’d only been able to confidently eliminate five as being the Target.
“This method appears rather inefficient,” the chieftain behind him observed. “What now, little Thong?”
Thorrin bit his lip. He was wondering that himself. He could simply repeat the strategy, request another life-line and go through the girls again. But if he did that, he’d be lucky to eliminate another three or four Rogues total. It wouldn’t be enough.
“Shit!” He thought. This was impossible! There was no way he could pick the one correct stench out of an entire rancid line up by smell alone!
And then he realised something. “Wait. It’s not by smell alone.” This wasn’t the Trial of the Nose. It was a puzzle, designed to test his mind. He had to think. What else could he use to narrow down the Target?
He looked up suddenly, razor-focused. “I’d like to use my second lifeline!”
“As you wish,” the chieftain replied.
When the Target approached him this time, Thorrin sharpened all of his senses to their keenest edge. Not just smell – he honed in on what he could feel, hear, and touch, the stimuli heightened by the blindfold.
FFFBORRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFF
He also willed himself to inhale the Target’s gas even more deeply than before. He couldn’t avoid a few involuntary gags, but he felt afterwards that he was just a little more familiar with the mystery villager’s aroma.
When the blindfold came off again, Thorrin didn’t hesitate. “Gorra,” he called to the blonde amazon who had first captured him. “You next, please.”
“Thong want more?” Gorra laughed. “Cute. Must have crush!”
She stomped excitedly toward him. But by the time she arrived, he was already smiling.
“It’s not her,” he declared smugly. Thorrin had been listening carefully as the Target approached; there had been no noise other than the sound of her footsteps. Whereas Gorra’s bone hair ornaments rattled loudly with her every movement.
The blonde froze, scowling. “But Gorra not even farted!”
“It does seem rude of you to bring her out all this way, and not even sample what she has to offer,” Vulgaar agreed.
Thorrin blinked. “W-well, that’s not – ”
SSSSBBBBAAAAAAARRRRFFF
The blonde giantess cut him off with a huge, smelly blast that caught him in his open mouth. Not only that, she bent and planted her gargantuan cheeks in his face, shoving him back into the spear and grinding up and down to smear the scent in deeper.
“That teach you!” Gorra huffed, before marching off to join the other eliminated Rogues.
The little human picked himself back up, spirits now slightly dampened. “Let’s keep going,” he mumbled, to no-one in particular. He had more giantesses to narrow down, and apparently, more gas to inhale, regardless.
Thorrin’s new strategy proved to be much more successful.
He was able to eliminate Kug, the blue mohawked warrior, based on the length of her animal-print panties – Kug’s clothing draped down to touch Thorrin’s hair as she gassed him, when he’d felt nothing from the unknown Target. Another three amazons wearing long grass-woven miniskirts were crossed out in the same way.
Two amazons were heavy enough to quake the very earth as they walked. Bomba, an enormously fat giantess whose stomach rolls alone could have swallowed Thorrin whole, and Agarr, a towering, heavily muscled warrior who always seemed to be scowling. The Target’s footsteps had been lighter than either, so both were discounted.
Sound was one of his best hints. The Target had been nearly silent save for her footsteps, so any amazon that made a noise – a rustle of clothing, the clinking of accessories, a grunt or giggle as they passed gas – were quickly eliminated.
Of course, his nose still played a major role.
BRRRRPPPPTTT
“It’s… not her.” Said Thorrin, after about a minute of delicate sniffing and careful consideration. This amazon – a younger girl with a bone nose piercing, whose name was Spukk – had a subtle tang of sweetness to her gas, distinct from the others. Spukk made a disappointed noise and moved to join the other eliminated warriors.
Thorrin’s efforts had bourne fruit. After all that sniffing, just two women remained on which he was undecided; Chal, the bronze-skinned giantess with ridiculously thick thighs, jet black hair and gold earrings, and Mishe, the chubby ebony amazon with an ass that stood out even in the village of enormous asses.
One of these women was his Target. But which one?
“You’ve done well.” Said Vulgaar, sincerely. “At this point you might take your chances and guess. Fifty-fifty is a lot better odds than you began with.”
Thorrin frowned. He could do better than guessing, surely. He still had one last life-life available, but how best to use it? The two women’s farts were similarly foul. Both were naked from the waist down. Neither made unnecessary noise in their movements, or physical contact with him when farting. What else was there?
“Thong.” The chieftain warned. “You are idling. Continue the trial, or be considered forfeit.”
“Oh, uh, sorry,” he stammered. “Then, Mishe? Can I have a fart, please?”
The giantess grinned. “Thong can have a hundred farts! As many as Thong want!”
Thorrin watched as she approached, her ominous shadow looming over him. All the while his mind was racing. What could he use? What else could he look for to eliminate one of them?
As Mishe squat above him, she spread her bulging cheeks wide. And when Thorrin gazed up into her filthy, unwashed crack, he saw hope staring back at him.
FFFBORRRRRRRRRRRRFFFFFFF
Thorrin grimaced beneath the hot, steamy wind, but was already calling for his next fart before Mishe had fully straightened. “Next, please! Chal!”
“Thong is eager. Must like Chal’s gas best,” she boasted, striding forward.
PAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRPPP
“Eat up, Thong! Very tasty!” Chal laughed, slapping her ass.
Thorrin ignored the comment, and did his best to ignore the noxious stench wafting around his face, too, though with less success. All he cared about was the grotesque view directly above him, in the shadowy space between her cheeks.
“I have it,” his heart soared. “I know how to differentiate them!” It was just a shame that to end the trial, he’d be required to perform his most disgusting act so far.
“Okay. I’m using my third life-line,” he declared.
And so Thorrin was blindfolded for the final time. He knelt in the dark, listening to the pounding of the Target’s impending footsteps, and of his own heart in his chest. He only had one chance here, otherwise he was back to guessing. First he needed to get closer.
He waited for the Target’s footsteps to reach him, then shouted up. “I just hope this one is a bit stronger. I barely smelled anything last time!”
There was a pause. Then, as he had hoped, an enormous, fleshy mass engulfed his face, forcing his head back until it hit the spear. The Target, successfully goaded, ground her butt up and down relentlessly, driving him deeper into her crack.
Instead of pulling away, however, Thorrin dove deeper. He wiggled his head forward until he felt the slimy, rubbery kiss of the giantess’ asshole on his forehead. Now it was the moment of truth.
Because what Thorrin had noticed, in the minutes before using his last life-line, was a marked difference in the level of cleanliness in the two amazon’s backdoors. Chal’s asshole was clean, thoroughly wiped. Mishe’s was not. To figure out who was currently wiping their ass with his face, all he needed to do was stick out his tongue and lick.
When he did, he was met with the disgusting, overpowering, bitter taste of victory.
“It’s Mishe!” He cried, before the blindfold was even off. “The Target is Mishe!”
The amazon above him gasped softly. The village surrounding them went silent. Thorrin waited anxiously, tasting shit on his tongue, wondering for a moment if he had made a horrible mistake.
Then he heard Vulgaar chuckle. “Congratulations, human.”
A roar went up from the crowd of spectating amazons. Meanwhile Thorrin, exhausted, slid slowly to the ground. He had successfully cleared two trials. “One to go.”