Boxed

Owen was very excited to participate in the camping event organized by the Youngsters Camping Club. It's a week to his 19th birthday and he couldn't imagine a better run-up to it than this. The participation fee was just $70, which his dad easily paid for him.

Waking up for camp is unlike waking up for school, which mostly has his mum, Carol, insisting he gets out of bed before he does. For this, he didn't need that help.

As early as 6 am, Owen was up for an event that wouldn't start until 10 am, and he wouldn't even need to be driven by his parent since the event planners have a dedicated bus that would pick all the kids attending the event from his neighbourhood. This left Owen with four hours of waiting in anticipation since Carol had already gotten his backpack ready since the night before, filled with everything he will need. In the letter written to the parents, there's a weight and size limit on what each camper can bring along since most of what they'd need will be provided by the club, it was suggested that things campers should come with should only include personal items like diary, books, clothes, etc.

At last, the long morning put him out of his misery when the long yellow school bus parked in front of their building, half of it filled with kids Owen's age.

Carol and Bernard walked their anxious son to the bus and they said goodbye to him as he happily climbed into the bus, and off it went.

Owen's heart rate spiked and he began to panic, finding out he cannot move his legs. They are rigid and stuck, but he cannot see what's holding them, except for a lemon-green mist fuming around his feet. It was simple curiosity that drew him away from the rest of his mates, wanting to find out where the beautiful smell he perceived was coming from. He remembered Carol warned him to be careful, and now he wished he listened and didn't wander off the camp. He tried to shout but no sound came out of his mouth.

Suddenly, he saw a purple ziggurat in the distance, and there's an old woman standing before it. He was very scared by what was happening to him, but it's even more worrisome that despite the distance, he can see the woman's face clearly, as though she was standing right in front of him. Her face is wrinkled and her grey hair shabbily tapers off on her shoulders. From the distance, she beckoned on him to come, and with the movement of her hand, Owen finds himself floating towards her, seemingly powered and driven by the mist around his feet. He tried to look back, but his head wouldn't turn. The only way was forward, and farther and farther he went until he found himself standing before the old woman. She turned around and instantly, a door that wasn't there before opened on the ziggurat and she walked in, magically bringing Owen in, along with her.

The ziggurat covered just a very small area, like the space of a standard room. Bottles, bottles, bowls. Potions everywhere. The mist on his feet has now disappeared and so did the door that led them in. Owen looked around; there's no window, no door, no opening of any kind. This place he finds himself in is completely sealed, and unknown to him, invisible from the outside.

The old woman opened a box on the floor and stared into Owen's eyes. "Child, get into the box."

That was all the woman said and Owen found himself tucked into the box, with his head completely tilted backwards so that his face was facing up. The old woman took her cloak off and stood facing away from him. Though tucked in the box, he didn't feel the discomfort of being cramped up into such a small space. The only part of his body which seemed to be alive, and of which he was conscious and could feel was his face. The black patch around the woman's asshole caught his attention, and while he was visually probing it, he saw the ass coming down on his face. The old woman sat her bare ass on his face, having her asshole directly on his nose.

Her big butt entirely covered his face and he tried to protest by speaking, but his mouth couldn't utter a word.

As the old woman began to mutter some incantations to herself, her asshole widened and shot a green cloud of stinking fart right up Owen's nose. The disease cloud burned his nose all the way down to his lungs and he began to panic. It felt like he would die. The witch readjusted her ass and now, Owen's nose slipped into her anus and his only source of air was whatever her rectum spared him. He survived on that poisonous fart for five minutes before he began to gasp for air. For the next five minutes, there was no fart for him to breathe and he suffocated, but no matter how starved of air he was, he wouldn't die. He began to shed tears while sniffing hard, and luckily, she ripped another fart.

This fart lasted twenty seconds and was even more poisonous than the first one. Owen hated it but was glad that he could respire again. He felt the heat and stink of the fart all over his chest cavity. It had an intense burning sensation.

He began to cry, seeing that he is trapped under this witch's ass and he can't call for help because the ability to do so has been taken away from him. All he could do was breathe in her farts and hear her mumbling incantations, plus sounds of vials being dropped on the floor and shifted from place to place.

The tone of her incantations got louder and darker, and at the same time her anus exploded in Owen's nose;

KRRRBBBOOOOOOOM!!

She released a deep, bass-sounding, dense fart into Owen's nose. His nose got choked and the sound of the fart caused temporary deafness. The more the woman got drawn into her incantations, the wider her anus got and the deeper Owen's nose dived in.

After one hour of chanting and farting, Owen's entire head had got sucked into the woman's anus and all he experienced in there was sadness, darkness and a terrible fetish odour. Only his neck remained outside.

KRR FRUUUBBBBBPP!!

KRUMMMPPPPSHH BRUMBBBBPP!!

Her farts grilled his head and he feared for his life. He had never experienced that kind of sorrow before in his life. He panicked in the darkness and continued inhaling the old woman's poisonous farts.

Finally, after two additional hours, she was done with the first part of the ritual. Her anus began to shrink back to the original size and at some point, it forcefully ejected Owen's head from her rectum. Then she stood up and looked at him. She shook her head and laughed at him, seeing how helpless and battered he looked.

For a moment, Owen put aside the near-death experience he just survived and had his eyes fixated on a perfect look-alike of him that stood beside the woman.

The witch placed her hand on the mirror image of him and stared at Owen. "I created him in your image and after your likeness. He will replace you."

The woman lifted her hand from the image and the door appeared again. The replica she created walked out through the door in the direction of the camp and the door disappeared.

"Child," she said to Owen, staring down at him, "You are not missing, and no one will look for you. That magical piece I created won't last forever though. In a few weeks, he will fall sick and die, and that energy will return to me, but you, child, the real you will remain trapped in this box forever. Your faith is sealed."

She spread her ass cheeks apart and sat on Owen's face for the second part of the ritual she's was performing. Her butthole shot another fart into Owen's nose and as he inhaled the poison, she heard her chanting loudly. This time, it took just two minutes for her anus to suck his head in. He drew in all the bad air he could find in there and resolved his fate to this now familiar darkness, knowing no one will look for him, neither will he be found.