Human Butt Wipe

Tyler's bedroom door was never shut.

It was shut tonight.

He was currently riding Marla's face. He was humping her like a dog and he panted like one, tongue hanging out of his slack jaw. He moaned breathily, overcome with anticipation for the most intense orgasm of his life. He rammed his hips forward at a forceful and quick pace. He had a frightening stamina that took Marla off guard the first time they had sex.

The first time she got into bed with him, it was like Marla met a completely different person. Under the sheets Tyler was an animal. A mythical creature she couldn't prove existed. Marla would never admit how much he intrigued her.

She was fucking a stranger and she loved it. She wanted more immediately. Tyler was more than willing to oblige. Of course it only added onto his ego.

Marla groaned and whined, but wouldn't dream of asking him to go slower. She often wondered what was going on in his head, but Tyler never paid any mind to her point of view. He was too caught up in the act that he was performing for himself.

He was loud. And theatrical. He moaned like he wanted the entire house to hear him. Like he was on stage, entertaining a game show audience of perverts. At the very back seat, furthest away from the show, even those audience members were within earshot to hear Tyler calling Marla human butt wipe.

"Take it, human butt wipe"

"Do it, human butt wipe."

"Choke it down." Tyler would order. "Keep it down."

Tyler would say that line when Marla had his cock in her mouth. She didn't have his cock in her mouth tonight.

"Swallow all of it." Tyler, despite panting for breath earlier, spoke clear and calmly. As if he hadn't been brutally humping her face for the past hour. He was grinding his hairy anus all over her face. Rubbing it across her eyes, pressing it against her lips like a kiss, wedging her nose inside of it.

Her face was his butt wipe.

Her job was to lick him clean.

She would call him a human butt wipe right back at him. She was a literal one, he was a metaphorical one.

It originally started out as Marla giving him a rimjob.

But before that, it started with her beginning with cleaning his cock. She let her tongue travel from the tip of his shaft all the way to the bottom, burying her face in his jungle of pubic hair. Marla would suck on each of his testicles, stroking his cock mindlessly. Soon she would then marinade his taint with her tongue. Taking in the musky, earthy flavor of the sweatiest part of his body.

She'd then graduate all the way to his asshole. She placed her pouty pink lips against his wrinkled brown sphincter.

"Kiss it like it's our wedding day, butt wipe." Tyler ordered. "Use your tongue, give my asshole a passionate French kiss."

And so Marla gave Tyler's hole a passionate French kiss. She pushed her tongue in as far as she could. She tasted the bitter depths of Tyler's bowels. She could taste the bacteria and slime and sewage that Tyler had backed up inside of him. Her nose was barricaded on both sides by Tyler's cheeks. She didn't expect him to have such a muscular ass. Her whole face was being squeezed by him. He was using her as a human butt wipe and putting all his weight on her.

According to Marla she didn't have any limits. She's been through it all. There was nothing Tyler could do that would phase her. He challenged her and she gave him carte blanche to "Try whatever he wanted." and so far she agreed to everything.

The last thing she wanted was for Tyler to see her as weak or vulnerable, despite him dominating her in the most degrading ways possible. She seemed to think she had some power in it, granting Tyler the permission to do these things. But her snotty facade afterwards, the put on show of being unaffected, it riled Tyler up. It riled him up enough to want to find a way to break her on the outside instead of just being broken inside.

Tyler forgot what it was, but he felt like Marla had taken something from him. Like she had intruded on his territory He couldn't remember what it was; it was too blurry at the back of his mind. Regardless, he knew that he wanted to get some kind of revenge.

She was already at rock bottom, but Tyler viewed it as a challenge to continue digging and to drag Marla to new lows.

Tyler wanted to see how far he could push past the bedrock.

Naturally, one night after she finished swallowing his load with his cock halfway down her throat, Tyler asked her something.

"So, have you ever eaten ass?" Tyler questioned nonchalantly.

Marla leaned back, allowing his cock to slide out of her mouth. It landed on her small breasts with a wet thump.

"Only once. For drugs."

"Want to do it again for free?" Tyler offered.

"I'll think about it." Marla wiped fresh cum off her chin. "You'll have to clean your ass first."

"I think I can manage that."

~~~

And now here Marla was, on her back, lying down on Tyler's unwashed bed sheets. Grinding his unwashed ass against her unwashed face. He didn't want to sacrifice any soap. He had a deadline to make for the autumn collection at Nordstrom.

Besides, his natural musk would get the job done much better.

For Tyler, it was entirely primal in several ways.

He was marking his scent on her.

He was dominating her.

She was willingly submitting.

The natural order, for the chivalrous and law abiding male.

But a deeper part of Tyler's monkey brain longed for an even more debased primordial urge. An urge dating back to a millennia ago. When cavemen would club a pretty little thing and drag her unconscious back home to his earthly abode.

Marla didn't deserve that kind of treatment, Tyler would decide. It already happened to her.

Before he started humping her face he urinated on her chest. The warm yellow liquid pooled between her shallow breasts and dripped down her waist. Marla felt like she was reborn, baptized by Tyler. He sat on her vulva, toned butt applying pressure to her clit. He'd pass gas on her and let her shamefully enjoy the sensation.

Marla did it all without a fight, but he pondered the thought of forcing it onto an unwilling woman.

A corrupt female politician caught in a child trafficking scheme. A lady CEO supporting deforestation. An ultra rich housewife who never did a chore in her life and treats the help horribly.

Some hypothetical woman he'd have to make up in his mind.

Whoever she was, he'd love to crush her stuck up little nose between his asscheeks. Clench them together and form a hydraulic press. Asphyxiate her and let her last desperate gasp for air be nothing but his gas.

Tyler had a flashback to one night at the Pressman hotel.

In the kitchen, all alone. He had his head reeled back in relaxation, aiming his cock at a simmering pot of French Onion soup. He moaned with satisfaction as he unleashed the contents of his bladder.

"Fuck." He groaned, eyes rolled to the back of his head. He could hear the liquid sizzling as his urine made contact with the soup. The fluids blend together in culinary harmony.

He made sure to snack on some of the grilled asparagus that the chefs prepared earlier.

He'd been holding this in for a while. It was a really long piss. He had to go for an hour, but he had to wait til he had privacy. He couldn't go if he knew someone was watching. He relaxed himself so much that he passed gas several times. After each fart he felt a twinge of adrenaline in his cock.

He reached behind himself, grabbing a freshly baked loaf of bread. He placed it behind his ass and let loose all over it. Bread was his favorite thing to pass gas on- it was quite absorbent.

After relieving himself, he moved onto the soup of the day.

Cream of Mushroom.

He didn't bother pulling his pants up.

He began jerking off into it furiously, grunting like an ape. Tyler's movements were quick and erratic. He brought the big rubbery organ to full hardness and was hooting and hollering like an entire troop of monkeys.

Monkeys throw their own shit in defense. They threw their own shit to attack. Tyler decided he was just a monkey at the end of the day.

A stupid, loud, grunting monkey.

He didn't even care if he caught the attention of one of the other waitstaff at this point. If one of them caught him, he couldn't care less. He'd love to be caught in the act. Let the innocent waitress walk in on him and see him brazenly pleasuring himself and breaking numerous health code violations.

He got off to the idea of that. But if he wanted to reach orgasm quickly, he'd have to pull out the heavy duty fantasies.

He thought of all the things that typically aroused him. Visions of a rich, beautiful woman on her hands and knees, sucking on his asshole while stroking his cock. Some bored housewife he could seduce into doing whatever he wanted. The lonely 45 year old rusty trophy wife of a wealthy CEO. The thought of dominating a woman ten years older than him ran a chilling thrill down his spine. The elaborate fantasy he had planned out in his head was more than enough to pull him into full hardness.

Whoever that oh-so deserving woman was,

She'd willingly suck on his dangling balls. She'd grip his throbbing cock with her eager hands. She'd rub her palms against the bottom of his dick and use her fingers to caress the top. She'd drag her tongue from his testicles over his taint right towards his asshole. She'd kiss his stained bromine brown wrinkled hairy anus.

Glossy lipstick pigmented by endangered insects would coat his ass crack. Ideally, he'd shit out a diabolical diarrhea powered by the lunch that she treated Tyler to earlier.

A cosmic payback.

That was the last straw for Tyler. Just that one thought alone was enough to bring him to orgasm. He finished himself off into the pot, shaking off any remaining cum. He dipped his cock into the soup, using it as a ladle to stir it around. He mixed his seed in with the broth, blending it all together.

The soup was burning hot but it felt good on Tyler's dick. He shook the cream off back into the pot. He reached for a cloth napkin and wiped himself. He neatly folded the napkin back to its original shape, setting it back to the side for the next waiter to leave it out on a table.

This was just one of many of Tyler's unhygienic crimes against humanity. But just simply tainting meals wasn't enough.

It got to the point where doing it to food wasn't doing it for him anymore. Tyler wanted to inflict his bodily fluids on rich and affluent women up close. Not just indirectly.

He wanted her beetle red lips to suck on his hairy anus. He wanted her to swallow his farts whole and beg for more. She'd be mind broken and dependent on him. Driven to insanity and given a craving for dick and degradation. He'd slap the foundation off of her cheek with his veiny shaft and she would thank him for it.

The queen is his slave.

He always wanted to do all of this to an upper class woman. He supposed Marla would have to do for now.

Instead of ruining the silk bedsheets of a materialistic capitalist, he was staining his own.

Tyler groaned, relaxing his sphincter and letting out a bubbly set of alcohol induced farts. His stomach rumbled, liquor sloshing around in his stomach.

Tyler's tolerance of alcohol depended on the time of day and how tired he was.

Every expulsion of gas rumbled against Marla's sweating face. It created a wet, rubbery sound that reverberated throughout the room and traveled throughout the rest of the decrepit house.

The gas traveled through the paper thin walls, the smell settling in the ancient wallpaper. The scent was strong enough to overpower the presence of mold that resided in the nooks and crannies.

Marla was on her knees, hunched over as she spread Tyler's ass cheeks apart.

Tyler was on his knees too. His torso was laid out lazily on the bed, letting Marla take control as she pleasured his asshole. Tyler was in Zen mode.

He considered going the extra mile, actually shitting in her mouth. He crossed it off the list, not wanting to risk the reaction. If it wasn't something he would do to the food at the Pressman hotel, then he wouldn't do it in bed. Marla was too volatile and more prone to retaliation than the ultra rich patrons who unknowingly consumed his bodily fluids.

He would have put shit in their food if he could have gotten away with it. He really wanted to, but it was too obvious and not worth the risk. A step too far that he longed to take, but never managed to.

He had another memory of the Pressman hotel resurface.

Sunday evening dinner. A private banquet for a megachurch. Tyler spent a total of eight minutes blowing rancid gas at the meringue cart. He changed positions every two minutes to adequately spray all four sides of the cart.

He turned his diet into a science, dedicating it to turning out a maximum flatulence outcome. He even timed himself once, keeping track of how many seconds long each fart was. In a single session of steaming some salmon, Tyler hit his record of twelve minutes worth of purely passing gas.

He apologized for the long wait. The chef wanted to wait for the shipment to arrive from the docks. He only insisted on the freshest catch for the president of the country club.

Some of Tyler's coworkers knew of how he'd spit in the occasional drink, or yank his hind leg up to let loose a tornado of farts on an innocent Caesar salad. They never found out what he did to the soup, how he'd jizz in it and use his limp cock to stir it in.

No one ever saw him teabag the teabags. Or how he placed a garlic knot inside his 6 hour shift sweaty swamp ass like a butt plug and walked around with it for an additional hour.

He'd put that in the bread basket of the last guest of the night. The one who came in 20 minutes from closing and ordered a filet mignon and soufflé for dessert.

She couldn't finish it all, she filled up on bread after all.

That woman wasn't Marla.

Marla wasn't that woman.

Marla was the garlic knot crammed inside of Tyler's ass.

~~~

Tyler had atypical stamina. It was almost disturbing.

He could hump her for ours. He didn't want to stop. But if he didn't give her a break, she could die for real this time. He realized how fragile he was when he manhandled her. She seemed so pointy and durable at first.

He was not out of breath. He spouted obnoxious pornified dialogue for his own amusement.

Like there was an audience of himself watching.

"Oh, yeah baby!" He sang out. Tyler was the pizza delivery man, railing the broke college student.

"Take it you little slut!" Tyler yanked her choppy dark hair. He was the domineering priest disciplining the catholic school girl.

"You're mine bitch." Tyler was the masked intruder pinning down the single mom.

"You're so fucking disgusting." Tyler spat. "You actually want this." Tyler was the pot calling the kettle black.

Tyler was the cock that was bursting at the seams with overactive blood flow.

Marla was the vagina aching desperately for the feeling of fullness Tyler offered.

She wanted Tyler to complete her like a puzzle piece. Their genitals permanently interlocked. But Tyler wasn't a singular piece. He was an entire jigsaw puzzle

Marla already came to terms that she'd never be on the same page as him. She coped with it like this.

She didn't like that he was effortlessly more mysterious. More slimy. More sleazy. There was no trace of the uncertainty she had expected from him.

"Take it, butt wipe." Tyler grunted. "Wipe my ass with your tongue. Clean me."

Marla's tongue felt heavy. She was too tired to keep servicing him.

"It's clean." Marla said. "I've been licking it for ten minutes straight."

"Not enough." Tyler grabbed the back of her head and forced her nose deeper inside his crevice. Her nose was suctioned against the crap caked walls and wiry anal hair. Marla was forced to endure a bout of flatulence straight from the source.

Her eyes watered, and her vulva throbbed as it leaked sticky fluid down her thighs. The rancid smell was turning her on and she was too weak and too unstable to be disgusted with herself.

Marla wasn't even conscious at this point. She was like a limp ragdoll underneath Tyler, a mere cushion for him to sit on. He decided that he liked the feeling of her underneath him. He knew she wasn't the type to walk away and forget about him. But now he could be completely sure that she wouldn't leave his side.

Even when she regained her strength and sobriety, can she really erase this all from her memory bank? Even when she isn't under the influence of whatever cocktail of drugs she was on now, she'll still be tethered by the knowledge that she encouraged and participated in this. There was no coming back from that.

I am Tyler Durden's toilet.

I am Tyler Durden's Human Butt Wipe.

I am proud.

Tyler predicted that was what she was thinking at this moment. His sweaty thighs rubbed against the sides of her head as he put more pressure on her from above.

Her nose was nuzzled snugly in between his cheeks, nostrils pressed against his sweating sphincter.

The opening of his anus fit right over her nostrils, forming an airtight pocket for gas to flow into her.

His stomach rumbled and Marla felt the impact. Her entire body felt the reverb. She was reminded how much smaller she was than him.

"You better not shit on me." Marla warned.

"Don't flatter yourself." Tyler quieted her by smashing her lips with his cheeks. He made himself comfortable, acting no different than he would be sitting in the chair of an office job.

There was another loud gurgle. This time deeper, coming right from the pits of Tyler's guts. He could feel acid turning in his stomach. Chemical bubbling rising to the top and sewage product thickening.

It was the most vile substance in the world.

It was a practice as old as the ancient Greeks. They'd use poisonous warfare by dipping the tips of their arrows in feces. The shit would enter the victims bloodstream and if they were lucky, they'd die immediately from the wound.

Guerrilla freedom fighters with limited resources would use dung to create explosives.

This was no different, Tyler decided.

"Ugh." Tyler sneered, disgusted with himself, but mostly Marla. "That coffee you made is wrecking my guts."

"Yoomafe if" Marla muffled from underneath.

"What?" Tyler lifted his ass up to free Marla's mouth from his anal cavity.

"You made it." Marla coughed.

Tyler sat himself down and released the hold he had on his sphincter. He allowed the wet fart to bubble out of his rippling ass. The dampness piled up on Marla's face.

"Tomorrow morning," Tyler said between farts. "I want you to remember this. Tomorrow morning I want you to put out a cigarette on your own arm. One of your clove ones. That will be the only thing that can get rid of the smell."

Marla nods her head and moans.

"Have you finally embraced your own corruption?" Tyler asked.

"Yes!" Marla sounded high pitched and hyper. The girlish whimpers and moans she emitted still didn't ready Tyler for the sudden shift in her cadence. Nothing at all like her usual disinterested tone of voice.

The next morning, Marla does as Tyler ordered her to.

"I embrace my own festering diseased corruption." Marla tells the cherry on the end of her cigarette. Marla twists the cigarette into the soft white underbelly of her arm. "Burn, witch, burn."

She didn't look up at him, but Marla still waited for a response. She wanted to hear him sing her praises peppered with his sardonic wit. But that morning, Tyler had changed personas again. He didn't have any other cosmic commentary to offer. Just a cold pot of coffee sitting on the rotting stovetop.

Marla forced down the bitter black drink and knew that last night she should have denied him the satisfaction. She left soon after.