BRITNEY SHEERS
Neil Burns (Neilbon)

Neil watched from backstage, smiling, as pop sensation Britney
Spears performed songs from her new CD "Circus" and grinded
with her dancers. She wore a sequined bodysuit with pasties,
fishnets and black boots with a fedora to complete the look.
Judging by the dancers' pained expressions and Britney's smug
one, Neil gathered that the Lousiana native ripped a fart on
stage as she usually did during her two-plus hour shows. In
fact, her flatulence was as common knowledge as her supposed
bitchy attitude toward her fans. What was not well-known
was that her fetish for pantyhose. Whatever color. Whatever
brand. Whatever style. Britney loved the way the silky, soft
material hugged her body like a second skin. Her favorite
pastime was to encase herself and parade around or chill out
while farting up a storm, much to her staff's dismay. Neil and
the songbird were having a late dinner at the exclusive
ROSSELINI'S, which was empty because said songbird rented
out the place so she could fart without disturbing anyone.
She was clad in a red turtleneck, snug-fitting black shorts,
fishnets and flat-heeled boots. Britney noticed Neil smiling.

"What's so funny?" she asked while toeing off her boots and
rubbing one foot against his leg.

"Nothing," Neil replied. "I loved the show, especially the funky
odor the first twenty rows must've smelled. I'm just waiting for
the day when your dancers and band revolt."

"Hey." Britney casually ate some Chicken Parm. "I told them
upfront when I hired them. 'I fart. Get over it or get out.' They
chose to stay."

"Of course, a raise in salary and the occassional blowjob
are nice incentives. Anyway, the pantyhose. When did this
come about?"

"Five years ago," the songbird grinned as her fishnet-covered
foot rubbed his crotch, causing it to start stiffening. "I liked
dressing up in my mom's clothes and would wear her hose. Of
course, I've done shows and danced forever. The way the
pantyhose feels against my skin is heaven, especially when
I wear it all over my body and face. It feels so good!"

"Got a few pairs, I take it?"

"I have a penthouse in New York and homes in Miami, LA
and Kentwood. Each has a bedroom with a dressed filled with
just pantyhose. What do you think?"

"I think you have a few pairs."

"What about you?" A curious eyebrow raised to match a
wide-spreading grin. "You into pantyhose?"

"Well, I did try on my mother's nylons when I was younger.
Recently from time to time, I'd experiment with being encased.
Interesting, but not really my thing."

Neil ate some spaghetti and meatballs while enjoying a crotch
massage, courtesy of one Lousiana songbird.

"Give it a chance, Neil. Tell you what. I got a break from the
tour from tommorrow til next Wednesday. What do you say
you come over and I teach you the beauty of encasement."

"Got nothing going on. I suppose I could make it. If you'll
pardon me, the little boy's room is calling my name."

"Hurry back," Britney singsonged, rubbing Neil's leg a final
time before lowering her foot to the floor.

Neil got up and left, unaware that the pop star took a small
vial from her pocket and poured a white powder into his Sam
Adams, stirring it. A few minutes later, Neil returned and took
a few bites of meatball before drinking his beer. Suddenly,
he started to feel a bit light-headed.

"Something not agree with you?" Britney smiled while eating
some salad casually.

"I just feel a bit weird," Neil slurred.

Neil thought he heard the singer giggle as he faded into
darkness. The next morning, he came to and found himself
in a dance studio. Looking at the mirrored wall, he saw that
he was encased in pantyhose, strapped crucifix-style to a
vertically-standing torture table and gagged with duct tape.
'What the hell is this!' Neil fumed silently. He was willing to
try wearing pantyhose all over his body, but he never
agreed to bondage. Suddenly, he heard humming as the door
to the studio opened and a smugly grinning Britney Spears
entered, encased in tan sheer pantyhose and her eyes blazing
with lust.

"Hey, honey," she drawled as she sauntered over and pressed
tightly against him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders and
the other hand stroking his chest and playing with his crotch.
"Are we comfortable?"

Neil tried to protest, but the duct tape muffled his words.
Britney chuckled as he groaned, his member becoming rock-
hard.

"You don't like bondage. Well, tough shit. I told you that when
you dated me, I'm the one who decides what we should do,
not you. The constest's fine print is clear. I decided that I
want a pantyhose slave to help me relax until next Wednesday.
Guess who volunteered?"

Britney kissed his cheek before turning around and grinding
her sheer-covered bottom against his hard-on. Suddenly a
loud bass fart exploded followed by a foul odor.

"Oops I farted again," the singer chirped while ripping another
one. "I cut the cheese. Shit, it smells bad!"

She ground and gyrated her smelly rearend against Neil as she
continued her farting-accompanied "revision" of her hit "OOPS,
I DID IT AGAIN", the stench burning her date's nostrils. She
continued her "mini-concert" with "modified" versions of
"SLAVE 4 U", "DRIVE ME CRAZY" and her latest single "3" while
she slithered and shook against a bound and helpless
date who moaned in agony and ecstacy. Suddenly, Britney
pushed a button underneath the table and it slowly went
back until it was horizontal. The pop star giggled as she
mounted Neil as placed her hands on his chest as she began
to slowly rub her crotch against his, a loud baritone rip
assaulting his ears and nostrils. She reached under the table
and took out a strap-on. With a wink, she placed in over
the gag and strapped it to Neil's head.

"There," Britney purred as her hands ran up and down his
chest as she continued to torture his erection. "You love this,
right? You love my hot, smelly farts? You love being my slave?"

Neil moaned as for three hours the Louisana native continued
to torment him, first rubbing slowly and cruelly then going fast
and hard and back to slow. Back and forth. Back and forth.
All the while, he was bombarded by the foulest, most lethal
flatulence this side of the Mississippi River. He wondered how
much longer he had to endure when Britney ripped a hole in
his crotch, releasing his hardness, but clutching it tightly so
he could not come. She then stood and walked up to the
strap-on and ripped a hole in her own crotch. Inserting the
strap-on into her womanhood gently, she began to move
up and down, the hard plastic massaging her as she ground
her rancid-smelling bottom against Neil's face. Britney held
the two attached poles while she moved her farting ass up
and down the toy while she clutched Neil's member with her
feet and began stroking and pumping it.

"Oh, yeah!" the Lousiana native moaned as she felt herself
approaching orgasm. "Shit! Aren't you hot? Aren't you hot!
Oh, fuck!"

The torture continued until the odor filled the room and
became absolutely intolerable to the point where Neil almost
felt like he was about to vomit. Finally, after stroking his dick
with her feet for another hour or so, Britney released it,
allowing him to come. The erection exploded like a volcano
as Britney rubbed the milky substance all over the stiffness
and all over her feet and Neil panted heavily, relieved that it
was over. After a triple bass ass explosion, Britney slowly rose
and removed the strap-on from her lips. Patting Neil's cheek,
she bent over and blew in his ear.

"There now," she mused. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

'No,' Neil thought. 'Other than being farted on and tied up.
Let's not forget being forced to wear a sextoy. Other than
that, everything's ducky.'

"I decided to give you a respite. You have until five this
evening to rest. Jessica is coming over and you know how bad
her farts smell. They're even worse than mine."

'Oh, SHIT' Neil thought as he faced the prospect of dealing
with not one, but two singers notorious for their "bodily
functions". He prayed the Texas native would show more mercy
than the Lousiana songbird did.

THE END

ta-daa. first story, so be gentle. I have others formulating.
if anyone would like to illustrate this, be my guest. comments
are welcome and looking forward to weaving another tale.