"I've been holding this in all day, kid, and I'm in the mood to feel the great feeling of letting out a great fart" The dragon's looming rear falls back onto you abruptly, giving little time for reaction as you find yourself directly in the dragon's butt crack. Remnants of the dragon's dung is pressed into your clothes, likely ruining them for life. Years of washing could not remove such filthy pigments and putrid fragrance from the threads, but you are relieved that only your clothes fall victim to this dragon's "scent-marking", or so you thought. The dragon proceeds to grind his pungent posterior onto you, and the stench intensifies as you feel some of his feces rub past your clothes and onto your very body. You're unsure how many showers it would take to neutralize such an odor, but you try to stay calm. The dragon's head turns back to look at you and enthusiastically asks, "Are you ready for my scent-marking?"
Your blood runs cold as you realize that this dragon means much more business than you had expected. You reluctantly nod, not knowing what he might do, but knowing that your situation is nevertheless impossible to escape. The dragon's teeth are revealed in a wide grin as he exclaims, "Alright! Bombs away!"
A deep, sickening rumbling from the dragon's bowels is heard, and suddenly a warm, moist wind blows past you and greets your nostrils with the horrid, unmistakable aroma of a fart. However, this was is in no way like the common flatulence you were accustomed with from your friends. This fart's stench was defined by its nauseating stench and potency akin to skunk spray, with a small hint of rotten eggs. You gag and your eyes cross in disgust while you attempt to hold your breath, but the fart's duration seemed to outmatch your lung capacity. You exhale, take a big breath of the ripe stench, and try to keep from vomiting over yourself.
Meanwhile, the dragon continues to expel his disgusting gas over you until you become completely engulfed in a thick, wet cloud of his scent. Your garments, hair, and the pores of your skin absorb the foul sulfuric compounds lacing the gas, ensuring the dragon that his scent will be spread via your reeking body. The dragon then yawns and turns back to check his work. He takes a deep whiff of you and sighs in content.
"I'm trying to push it for a perfume line, and I'm really happy that you could be able to test it for me. Soon, the whole world will know of 'Sensuous, but Brash'!", the dragon jokes sarcastically.
But at the same time, he's right. Your newfound aroma will certainly evoke disgust from anyone around you, especially your girlfriend. The dragon lifts his buttocks, gives you one more spritzing puff of gas, and turns you loose. You sprint out of sight back home, and ponder the first step to getting rid of your stink.
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