Becky, the colossal queen of the farm, weighing in at six hundred pounds, sat atop her throne of lard, surveying the dusty horizon. Her farm, a sprawling acreage in the vast expanse of Texas, had been bequeathed by her parents, who had long ago succumbed to the gravity of their own excesses. She was a woman of simple needs, but they were not easily met. Becky could barely waddle from one room to another, her corpulent bulk a prison that confined her to a solitary existence. The only freedom she enjoyed was the boundless vastness of her imagination, where she was the most desirable woman in the world, and men worshiped at the altar of her engorged flesh.

Her eyes fell upon the latest copy of Dimensions magazine, a tome of the bizarre and the kinky, which had arrived with the morning's mail. As she leafed through the pages, her mind drifted to the ad she had placed in the back, a cry for help disguised as a domineering demand: "Submissive male needed for service and companionship. Must be willing to perform personal tasks for an enormously obese woman." The words stared back at her, taunting and tempting.

Days turned to weeks, and the responses trickled in. One stood out among the many: a young man named David from the barren lands of New Mexico. His letters were filled with the kind of desperation that Becky had been craving. He was eager to serve her, to tend to her every need, to worship her immense frame with the fervor of a starving man before a banquet. They exchanged photographs and Becky was satisfied. David would be the one.

The day of their meeting approached and with it, a cacophony of emotions. Becky felt a peculiar mix of excitement and fear. Would he be repulsed by her stench, her immobility? Would he recoil from the task she had in mind?

The doorbell rang, echoing through the cavernous farmhouse. Becky's heart skipped a beat. She huffed and puffed her way to the door, her breasts swaying like two overripe melons in a hammock. Opening the door, she beheld a slip of a man, no more than twenty-two, with a look of eager anticipation in his eyes.

"Welcome, David," she rumbled, her voice deep and resonant.

"Thank you, Mistress Becky," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

Their first meal together was a trial by fire. Becky ordered him into the kitchen and instructed him to prepare her favorite dish: a mountain of fried chicken and mashed potatoes drenched in gravy, with a side of collard greens. As he worked, she could not help but eye him like a hungry predator, sizing up her prey. The sweat on his brow was like a sweet perfume to her, a scent of submission and desire.

As they sat opposite one another at the table, the air grew thick with the scent of Becky's unwashed body. She had not seen the inside of a shower stall in days, her pores releasing a bouquet of funk that filled the room. She knew the effect it had on David; his pupils dilated, his breath quickened. It was a power she had wielded over men before, and she reveled in it.

"How do you like your meal?" she asked, her voice thick with the promise of what was to come.

"It's... it's delicious, Mistress," he stuttered, his eyes flicking down to the plate before returning to hers.

Her gaze remained on him, challenging, as she released a string of wet, resonant farts. The smell was overwhelming, a declaration of her dominance. And yet, David's cock stirred in his pants, his erection a silent testament to his arousal.

"You know, David," Becky began, her voice low and sultry, "I have certain needs. Needs that my former... servant was quite adept at fulfilling."

David's eyes widened, his cock throbbing with anticipation. "What... what kind of needs, Mistress?"

Becky leaned back in her chair, her breasts threatening to spill over the top. "Let's just say, I require some... special attention."

The tension in the room was palpable, a thick fog of lust and dominance that neither could ignore. Becky decided it was time. She stood, her joints creaking like the floorboards of an old house, and waddled into the bathroom. David followed like a loyal puppy, his heart racing.

The sight of Becky on the toilet was a revelation. Her ass was like two large pillows, one atop the other, separated by a deep valley of flesh. She grunted and strained, her cheeks quivering as she evacuated herself. David was mesmerized, his cock now painfully hard.

"Wipe me," she growled, without a hint of shyness.

He stepped forward, his hand trembling with excitement as he took a wad of toilet paper. He gently began to clean her, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the harshness of the task. But it wasn't enough. Becky had to be sure.

"Lick me clean," she commanded. "Every inch of my ass must be pristine."

With a look of pure devotion, David dropped to his knees and buried his face in Becky's cleft. His tongue danced over her skin, savoring the salty taste of her sweat, the bitter tang of her shit. It was a symphony of flavors and textures that he had never before experienced.

Becky felt a surge of pleasure unlike any she had known. The humiliation of her size, the shame of her stench, all of it washed away by the warmth of David's mouth. She moaned with every stroke, her body coming alive.

As she led him to the bedroom, her mind raced with memories of Darrell, her first and only true love. He had adored her ass, worshipped it with every breath. The thought of David doing the same filled her with a sense of power she hadn't felt in years.

The bed was an island in a sea of discarded clothes and fast food wrappers. Becky climbed in, her stomach rolling over the side, and pulled David in after her. She attached a collar and lead around his neck and passed the lead through her legs, forcing him to lay face down beside her.

"This is where you'll sleep," she whispered, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Tucked into my little Dutch oven."

The sheet was a prison for David, but it was also a cocoon. He nestled his face into Becky's ass cheeks, his nose buried in her scent. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac that coursed through his veins, making him feel alive.

Over the next few days, Becky and David's relationship grew, bound by their shared love of ass worship. The farmhouse was their playground, a place where the most depraved and intimate acts were committed with passion and adoration. Becky's ass was a treasure trove, a source of never-ending fascination for David, and a balm for Becky's bruised ego.

Each fart was a gift, a declaration of David's love and devotion. He inhaled them as if they were the sweetest of perfumes, his body quivering with desire. And with each one, Becky felt a rush of power, a reminder that she was still desirable, still a woman who could control a man with the mere release of gas.

Their days were a blur of feeding and cleaning, of Becky's farts and David's eager tongue. It was a cycle that Becky never wanted to end, for it meant that she was loved, that she was not alone. And for David, it was an addiction, a craving that consumed him, making him feel needed and whole.

But as with all addictions, there was a price to pay. Becky grew lazier, more demanding, her ass more and more the center of their universe. David became lost in the role of ass worshipper, his own needs and desires forgotten in the face of Becky's insatiable hunger for power.

And yet, in the dark confines of that stinking room, wrapped in the embrace of her voluminous flesh, David felt more alive than he ever had. The intimacy of his face pressed into Becky's ass was a connection he had never felt before, a bond that transcended the boundaries of the physical world.

For Becky, the experience was a double-edged sword. Her power over David was intoxicating, but it also filled her with a deep sadness. She knew that she was using him, that she was a parasite feeding off his love. But she was too far gone to stop, too addicted to the feeling of being wanted.

Together, they lived in a twisted bubble of obsession and love, two lost souls finding solace in the most unlikely of places. And as the sun set over the Texas prairie, the farmhouse echoed with the sounds of Becky's farts and David's passionate kisses, a testament to the strange and powerful force that bound them together.