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Fuck.

Now that was...that was a night. Let me tell you.

All that...I still can't even remember all the fuckin' details. Jesus...all that mess... I always thought the cops would find out. I thought the janitor would come in and spoil it for us. I thought _something_would go wrong, but...well, no. Guess some shit did go wrong. I'm in a bathroom in a subway, and I can't seem to find my pants. And one of my teammates is right next to me, and he's completely naked.

Heh. Man. Fuckin' night of the century, that's for damn sure. It wasn't enough that we won the Super Bowl. Nah. We couldn't stop there. It wasn't enough that we all got together and mooned the Panthers as they drove away on their bus in shame. Uh-uh--that wasn't enough. We all planned it out weeks--no, months in advance. So what did we do after we won the game? We got shit-faced, of course. We all got together and ate out, traveling from restaurant to restaurant--a steak house, a crab shop, even some family-run Mexican shop that makes better enchiladas than the shit those five-star hotels try to give you when you order room service. And we all drank beer. And wine. And champagne. And a few teammates had their own stash of bourbon, so...well, you get the idea. I remember...I remember heading back to the stadium. Then everything became blurry--I couldn't focus. Think I was too busy trying not to puke all over myself. I remember going into the locker room, but it all went blurry again. After that, I can't remember what happened--it's all only faint images, little pieces of a puzzle I can't put back together.

But god_damn_! Such a fun night it was! It-it really was! Shit, if only I could remember it all...I dunno how it started, unfortunately. I just remember going into the Panthers' locker room after it was already abandoned, then everything went black. When I woke back up, I was seconds away from blowing chunks on the floor. All these noises were bombarding me from all over. So much din...all these giant horses, as loud as they could ever be. Several gruff stallions, all muscular or fat--or both in my case--were trapped in the locker room, doing whatever the fuck they wanted. But see, those damn Panthers were the ones who stayed in there. This is our stadium. This stadium belongs to us Stallions, not those filthy Panthers. So we made sure we took that locker room back. I thought we were just going to vandalize the place, maybe spray-paint here, pee in a corner there. But when I woke up, the noise wasn't what hit me first. The stench did. Now, the locker room still stank of the Panthers--that's for damn sure. But when you group a bunch of stallions together while they are still wearing their football clothes and trap 'em in a locker room, you're gonna create a heady funk.

It started off innocently at first. Everyone was wearing their orange jerseys with their numbers and names on them and their tight-ass white pants that showed off our buttocks and packages well. Some of us took off our shoes though--which explained the sweaty sock odor in the room. I remember waking up, and right in front of me was Joe's hot feet. I opened my eyes and saw Joe sitting down, the brown horse curling his toes as he chugged a can of beer in one gulp. He crushed the can and belched noisily, with some spittle flying out his mouth. A lot of other stallions were burping as well, getting into drunken, friendly contests to see who was the gassiest. I opened my mouth to vomit, but luckily for me, only gas came out. Joe laughed and waved a hand in front of his face while I tried to stand back up. I got to my feet, my vision blurred and my eyes red, when someone bumped into me from behind. I grunted and nearly fell over, then turned around and found myself looking at Maverick, a very tall, very fit black and gray horse.

"Haaaaaaaaaa, girra beer! Girra 'notha beer, Len!" he shouted in a slurred voice.

Christ, I thought I'd vomit right then and there. Maverick's breath hit me like a sledgehammer; I thought he was farting out of his fuckin' mouth. I retched and backed away from the stallion--mere seconds before he belched. Thankfully his burp didn't hit me, but nobody could avoid the new stench he was about to produce. Maverick walked over to two of the blue benches near the lockers and noticed all the panther fur on them. He looked down at the benches and scowled.

"Puh...pussy benches! Them fuckin' pussies sat 'ere! This 'ur fuckin' benches!"

Maverick pointed at the benches and laughed. He fondled with his white pants and quickly pulled them down low enough for his foot-long cock to flop out. Even with how inebriated I was, I couldn't help but stare at his thick member and his meaty balls. Maverick swayed as he stood near the benches, but he maintained his balance.

"These 'ur benches! Haaaaaaaaaa...haaaa. These my fuck benches!"

Half of us stopped what we were doing just so we could stare. We share bathrooms all the time--we always see each other piss. But last night, there was something alluring about Maverick's fat cock and those luscious fluids that erupted from his shaft. I can still picture it clearly: a long, thick yellow stream that burst out of his cock and splattered all over the bench. The piss glistened in the light, shining brightly as it rained down upon the bench and started to spread in several directions. Even for Maverick, he managed to aim very well despite how drunk he was. The stallion sighed with a deep voice, his tongue hanging out his mouth as he started to move his cock left and right. The piss trickled off the edges and dripped onto the floor. Puddles began to form and spread around on the tiles. I watched as Maverick wiggled his socked toes and jerked his dick to the left so he could hose down an adjacent bench. The deep sound of his piss splashing titillated all of us. And that musky smell...I flared my wide nostrils and took in the manly odor, noticing how potent it was since it was laden with beer.

Maverick stopped pissing for a moment. I watched as his stream of urine waned and started to trickle on the floor. The giant horse mumbled as he dragged his fat feet across the floor, looking for another area to piss on. And then he collapsed and bashed his chin against one of the lockers, and groaned as he passed out on the floor. The other stallions didn't seem to care about Maverick--I sure as hell didn't. We all keep whooping with joy and went around belching and leaving our scent in the locker room. I started to regain my balance and joined in. Two stallions--a Clydesdale and a white and gray horse--were both pissing into the lockers. I wiggled my way in-between them and hurriedly pulled my pants down before I pissed myself. A third stream of yellow fluids started to hit the lockers. My piss was just as thick and yellow as the other horses. All three of us grinned and watched as the urine splashed inside the lockers and created a puddle on the bottom. The puddle quickly reached the floor and started to travel around the tiles. I watched as the urine eventually came our way and reached our feet. The white and gray horse moved away from the puddle while the Clydesdale and I stayed still and let the urine soak into our smelly feet.

"Whew! You stink, Len! Think you need a shower!"

I flinched and shouted when I felt the hot piss splashing all over my orange jersey. I turned and looked at the gray and white horse and realized he was pissing all over my body. He laughed at me for a moment just as I looked down at his socks.

"Oh yeah? Well, yer feet stink! Ain't that right, Goss?"

The brown Clydesdale looked at the other horse's feet and grinned. "PHEEEEEW! I can smell them shit's all the way 'ere! Lemme rinse 'em for ya!"

The gray and white horse shouted and started to jump around as we tried to urinate on his socks. He stopped pissing, but Goss and I were still going strong. We started to hose down the floor as we followed our teammate, determined to get his feet nice and soaked.

"Stop it, assholes! You fuckin' know I hate gettin' my socks wet!"

Goss laughed wildly when the other horse tripped and we proceeded to pee all over his socks. The yellow fluids splattered against his toes and soles, and the horse simply whined and swore as his socks were soaked in our piss. By the time our streams were gone, the horse's wet socks smelled more like stallion piss than foot sweat.

"Hahahaaaaaa, now your feet won't be stinkin' up the locker room like they always do, Gedge!"

Gedge stood up and quickly snorted at Goss. "You know what? Your breath stinks, Goss! Every day we gotta lissen to your big-ass mouth an' smell your hot, shitty breath whenever you get in our faces!"

I grinned and stared at Goss. "He's not lyin'."

Goss laughed nervously. "Hey, c'mon now--"

Goss shouted when I kneed him in the crotch and brought him to his knees. The large stallion coughed a few times after I subdued him, and then I grinned. I stood behind Goss and grabbed his head so I could pry his jaw open. The Clydesdale grunted and mumbled as he started to slobber all over my hands. Joe and another horse got off the floor and approached Goss, their pants already unzipped.

"They got a point there, Goss. You ain't--" Joe hiccupped. "You ain't know what mouthwash is, so we're gunna have to clean yer mouf out ourselves!"

I almost died of laughter right then and there. Joe and Mason--a beige-haired horse with a bloated gut--stood in front of me and Goss and pulled down their trousers and underwear. They aimed their cocks at Goss' muzzle; I kept a firm grip on the stallion's mouth. There was nothing Goss could do as Joe and Mason started to urinate all over Goss' face. I stared at the two horse dicks in front of me--one was two inches longer than the other. Both of their streams of piss weren't as yellow as I thought; their piss was half-clear, half-yellow. Goss started to choke and retch as the urine splashed all over his face, jaw and tongue. I turned Goss' head and shoved it forward, forcing Goss to try and drink the urine. But most of it spilled out of his maw and onto the floor. The fluids splattered onto his jersey and pants and continued to roll down the horse's thick body. I kept staring at the stallions' streams of piss and listened to everyone else in the locker room as they continued on with their raunchy fun. Most of the belching had stopped, but everyone's body heat and the musky odor of us all was starting to spread around the room. After I felt like Goss had enough, I removed my hands from his head, and the horse stood back up and started gagging.

"Awwww, stop complaining, Goss! It ain't breath mints, but it's still an improvement!"

I was in the middle of laughing when the beer started acting up again. Maybe I was tired from the game, or maybe my body just couldn't handle all the alcohol. Perhaps the stench of the locker room was messing with my brain. I drowned out some of the dialogue and struggled to stay on my feet. But then that's when all the "fun" started.

"Fine, fair enough! My breath does stink!" Goss admitted.

I blinked and watched as the Clydesdale started to grin. "You wanna know what else stinks?"

I should've seen it coming. Everyone's stomachs had been growling all night. Half of us had mentioned that our asses felt like they were about to burst--a few of us already cut one or two the moment we went inside the locker room. So I shouldn't have been surprised when Goss jumped and turned around with his ass pointed at Joe and Mason. He blurted it out immediately; everyone in the locker room stopped doing what they were doing after they heard the immense sputtering and hissing. His farts crackled against his tight pants, and the hot gas started to spread around the room. Goss exhaled after farting deeply; I turned my head after catching wind of his breath again. The Clydesdale wiggled his toes before he let out a high-pitched fart that squeaked out of his rump. Goss snickered as he wagged his tail, spreading his gas all around the room.

"My ass does!" the horse said with pride.

Joe stared at Goss, as if the Clydesdale just challenged him. "Yeah? Well, guess what? Mine does too!"

Joe lifted his right foot off the floor and leaned over. Then he let out a giant burst of gas as well. My ears were filled with a disgusting noise that reminded me of a motorboat failing to start. It only lasted for a moment, but Joe got his point across. He sighed and put his foot down, and Goss started to plug his nose. I held mine too--I already knew what was gonna happen. Everytime we ate a huge dinner, we'd usually spend our ride home on our plane or bus blowing ass until one of us (or all of us) shat ourselves. And I knew this wouldn't be any different. Unsurprisingly, everyone around the locker room started to join in. Maverick woke up from his drunken stupor and started to fart right off the bat. The giant black horse lifted his tail while he was still on the floor and stuck his fat ass out. As he let out a lengthy, squishy fart, I heard Goss and Joe getting into their own personal contest. Both stallions kept aiming their asses at each other and passed so much gas that I thought they'd blow holes into their trousers. Mason and I backed away from the two horses and started to laugh as we plugged our noses.

"Shit, Len...think them tacos are doin' me in!"

Mason grabbed his stomach and started to bend over. He ripped a large one too--real long, deep-toned fart that created a major "BRRRRRNNT" sound and echoed throughout the locker room. Even Mason was surprised at how violent it was; he quickly waved a hand behind his ass to try and fan the stink away. And for some reason or another, I started laughing my ass off. I couldn't understand it. I _still_don't understand it. Here we were, sneaking into a locker room like juvenile foals, burping, pissing, and farting like we were still in high school and trying to cause some form of debauchery. There were at least a dozen of us in that locker room last night, and all of us participated in stinking up the room. Even I started to join in when I felt my lower intestines burning. Gedge was sitting on the bench taking off his soaked socks when I casually walked in front of him and let off a huge one. It came out fast, but I wagged my tail so the other stallion would catch wind of it quickly. Gedge coughed and dropped his wet socks while I laughed at him and hiccupped. The gray and white stallion scowled at me, but I made sure I trounced him before he got the upper hand.

So I grabbed the stallion's head and slammed him to the floor, making sure his face and big muzzle was pointing upwards. Then I quickly sat on his face and smirked, my warm ass all up on his big nose. I hadn't taken a shower in the past three days; I could tell from Gedge's protests that he could smell my funk. Heh, and I didn't even lower my pants--I still wore 'em when I sat on his nose. I moved my greasy ass back and forth, feeling my balls hang and my cock slowly elongate as I played around with Gedge. He tried to shove my fat ass off, but I was too big for him. So I quickly made an example of the horse by ripping a hot one right on his nose. The flatulence popped against my pants and echoed around the room. Even with all the din around me, I could identify which fart was mine and how heated it was. It was another short one that didn't have much of a scent to it, but I felt my colon heating up. I curled my toes and shut my eyes as my tailhole bulged outwards. But I didn't hear a damn thing, not even a hiss. Sure as shit felt it though--and smelled it very quickly. I groaned and covered my nose with both hands while Gedge started shouting beneath me. You always gotta be careful with them silent ones. Sometimes they leave a tiny mark--sometimes they tear the paint off the walls!

I heard a few stallions complaining that the whole room stank of baked beans and horse shit; someone jokingly said that they probably shit themselves. I lifted my ass off Gedge for a moment and groped my bottom, then sighed when I noticed it was just my ass sweat bleeding into my trousers. I was in the middle of torturing Gedge when Goss grabbed me by the throat and hauled me off the gray and white horse. He slammed me against a locker and opened his mouth wide, exhaling. I turned away and coughed after smelling his rank breath while Goss proceeded to punch me in the groin. I groaned and collapsed on all fours whilst the Clydesdale crouched down and got in my face again. He belched deeply, causing me to hack after I was bombarded with his beer and garlic breath. I fell down on my stomach, and Goss made sure he quickly sat on my back so I couldn't get up. Goss whistled shrilly, and I heard a deep growl from the other section of the locker room. I heard fat footsteps thumping against the floor and frowned.

"Oh no," I moaned.

"Hehehe, hey, Moss! Len wants ta say hi to ya!"

Everything around me was background noise compared to the giant hunk who was inches from me. A blue roan Clydesdale was in front of me with a similar build to Goss. His big belly bulged outwards beneath his bulk, and his legs and arms were brimming with power. The blue roan horse growled as he looked down at me--which wouldn't have made me so anxious, if the horse was wearing more than just his sweaty socks. I could still feel Goss' fat ass pinning me down as Moss walked closer to me. I could smell his musky crotch and sweaty ass where I laid; Moss wasn't a fan of showering either. I looked up and watched as Moss scratched his tender testicles and stroked his cock for a moment. Goss snorted as he wiggled his ass.

"Better close dat mouf, Len! Heard Moss' fluids were acidic! Wouldn't want ya to burn alive from the inside-out!"

Obviously his piss ain't acidic (which I know from experience now) but rumors always swirled about how potent it was. Moss laughed at me, his giant stomach jiggling and his cock moving as he chortled. Then the horse pointed his dick at me and started to flood my orifices. The second the piss hit my face, I was nearly blinded. The hot fluids splashed all over my eyes and made them sting for a moment. His trail of urine wasn't a trickle--it was a goddamn river. I thought the horse was trying to drown me in his musky waste. I spluttered and coughed, only to feel more of the hot urine getting all over my face and jersey. A pool formed around me and started to spread; the urine began to soak into my clothing. I shut my eyes and shook my head, but there was no point in shaking off the urine; another torrent of it splashed all over me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think properly. All my senses were bombarded with Moss' dick and the fluids pouring out of it. I enjoyed how warm it felt against my body, but knew damn well the smell would linger for at least a week, maybe longer. Some of the piss even got into my mouth; I quickly spat it out, but the taste remained. Shit...I can still taste it now even. Or is that someone's cock? Hmm...probably best not to ponder.

That's when everything got hazy again. I don't know if it was the smell of Moss' piss or the stench of all us horses crowding the locker room. Maybe it was all the alcohol--I still felt like throwing up. Hell...still feel kinda nauseous now. But as Moss pissed on me, the noises in the locker started to fade, and I had a hard time remembering certain bits of what happened last night. More farting and belching ensued, that's for damn sure. I could still see all the large, barefooted or socked stallions around me. At some point I even saw Joe torturing one horse by making him sniff his big feet. My head was drenched with Moss' piss, and I can't remember if he was still pissing on me, or if he had finally stopped. But the musk...it was too strong--too alluring. I exhaled as I smelled horse piss all around me. Beer, musk, bourbon, coffee, energy drinks--there were faint traces of it all in the various puddles around the locker room. And at this point, we had farted so much that I could've sworn there was a faint haze in the air, like mustard gas was flooding the room.

I finally came to my senses and discovered the main problem was in front of me again. Someone else was sitting on my back, and in front of me were two giant sets of asses. Moss was still naked, and his bluish-gray bottom was pointed at me; the other ass was still clad in the tight white football pants. But I could tell by the body structure that the other horse was Goss. Both of them were only inches from my face and were on all fours. They didn't say anything, didn't even jokingly give me a heads up. They just lifted their tails and started blasting ass. A cacophonous BRRRRRRRNNNT and FRRRRRNT sound came out of both asses simultaneously. I watched as Moss' ass cheeks vibrated slightly while Goss stuck his ass out so much I could practically see his tailhole bulging against the seat of his pants. Their farts went on for several seconds straight, and all I could do was lie there as I was hit with the foul stench of the horses' ass sweat and baked beans. The duo laughed and kept their tails raised as they continued to fart at me. They tagged-teamed me, going back and forth.

Moss stuck out his fat ass first and let loose a few quick bursts of gas. Then a noisy squeaker emerged from his behind, sounding like a balloon deflating. After that, Moss sighed and eased his bowels, and a rumbling, sputtering gas bubble exploded from his backside for at least five seconds before it ended. As soon as he finished, Goss backed up and pushed out a fart so wet that I thought he just shit himself. I gagged and tried to cover my nose as the stench of hot horse shit flowed into my lungs. Goss exhaled and continued to push. A series of low, squishy farts came out of the beast's big ass; I'm sure it left his anus feeling wet and moist, and the stench only got stronger. But Goss didn't stop himself. On and on he pushed, blasting me with moist, vile-sounding farts that sounded like Goss was trying to squeeze too much ketchup out of a bottle. He wiggled his fat ass at me and smacked it, then pushed hard. Another giant burst of fetid gas erupted from his colon, and I found myself nearly choking on all the fumes. Whoever was sitting on my back was so grossed out that he got off me and moved away from the Clydesdales.

"Damn, you two need to calm the fuck down!" he shouted. "At the rate you're going, you're gonna shit all over the place!"

I heard Goss snicker. "Yes, yes. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

I started to black out again. Between the two giant, flatulent asses in front of me and the rest of the stink in the locker room, I couldn't keep it together. I panted and tried to stand up, but Moss' dirty ass knocked me back down when more gas was blown my way. Goss stood up and approached me. He jerked my head upwards and pried my mouth open with no effort. And then Moss decided to rub it in my face--well, his ass anyway. He backed up and crouched down, and Goss shoved my face into the blue roan horse's rump. My eyes grew wide as Moss farted. I could actually taste and feel his fart inside my mouth. My fuckin' mouth. There's a big fucking difference between someone farting on your face and someone farting in your mouth, let me tell ya. I thought Moss' farts were bad, but tasting hot air that's riddled with sweat and tiny shit particles is enough to make someone vomit. I didn't, somehow, but the flavor was retched. He passed more gas, and the flatulence felt like it was vibrating within my huge mouth. I could feel the hot wind against my tongue; my cheeks bloated slightly as the gas spread around with no room to escape. Then Moss finished it off with a short, but fat wet fart that tasted like all the digested food the horse had consumed.

Moss moved away from my mouth, and Goss let go of my head. I coughed and retched, the flatus flowing from my mouth immediately. I collapsed onto the floor, my vision blurring as the sounds around me faded. Someone grabbed me from behind again--I didn't know who this time. But as the stallion lifted my head, I could just make out Goss' wide posterior as he crouched down with his ass all up in my face. And then...

Well, shit. That's the problem. I can't fuckin' remember what happened afterwards. I know Goss farted in my face a bunch of times. I can still faintly remember smelling those ripe, shit-stinking farts with hints of musk to them. I can faintly remember Goss grinding his buttocks on my face with his pants still on. And I remember that damn funk...damn it. What the fuck happened? Why can't I remember what happened after Goss and Moss tortured me with their dirty asses?

And where the fuck are my pants?!

Seriously, I'm just--this shit is irritating. It's like I went to Disney World for a week, but all I remember is the first fuckin' day. I mean it's one thing to get shit-faced, but-but I'm naked from the waist-down. Joe is naked. And my ass hurts. Either I took a giant shit last night, or me an' the stallions had a lot more fun than I originally imagined. And I can't remember it happening. At all.

Fuck.

...Well...s'a new day now. Suppose I should try to clean myself up before the paparazzi finds us. I exhale and start to get to my feet when I hear Joe mumbling beside me. Damn. He looks worse than I do. And from the look of his tailhole, it looks--and smells--like Joe took a shit last night and didn't wipe. ...Although he smells a lot like jizz too. Or maybe that's me. I don't know.

Fuck! This shit keeps bothering me! How the fuck--

"H-hey..." Joe mumbles as he raises his head and opens his eyes. He looks around the bathroom before he grunts and sits up. And then he looks down at his body with wide eyes.

"Um...h-how did we get here?"

I look at the stallion and nod.

"That's a good question."