Stanky Leg Novels & Stories

Stacy replied as they walked towards the cabin. “It’s my fault too, I didn’t come to Dom’s ceremony and I didn’t offer help when your Packhouse was lost.” “Look, I need your help identifying a scent I have never smelt before.” Stacy added as the two sat in opposite chairs in the main living area of the cabin. “Sure, what was the combination?” Nikki asked as she leaned back in the leather recliner. “Asian, no Oriental, with nasty bite to it, like…” “Like decay.” Nikki finished, not as a question but stating a fact.

Marco strolled out of the room, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. Dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, his hair appeared ruffled but it only added to his irresistible charm. Stacy gulped, her mouth parched as she fixated on his toned legs, finally comprehending why guys were attracted to girls' legs.

Thank you all for reading my book. This is my second book on good novel and I hope you all enjoy it. 'Quagmire' is a romance novel which possesses a lot of twists, turns, complications but still enough romance to keep it interesting and thrilling. The book is an entire work of fiction and is not intended to make mockery or downgrade any kind of individual.

At least I had a pair of pants on this time. “I got impatient.” Stank explained, with a small bitter smile. His left arm had been bandaged, and now he was an ear short; I took pride in that at least. Many were scared of Stank, maybe it was due to his cruel nature of handling things or the fact that he was the founder of this… business. That’s what this was. He took us from our home and brought us here to fight each other. Our death was entertainment. Other rogues paid to watch each match, and that was how he made his money.

Chapter 28 Caleb’s POV In my previous life, the one where I didn't smell like yeast and desperation, I was a connoisseur of fine biological warfare. Not the kind involving anthrax, but the kind involving corporate boardrooms, high-fiber muffins, and strategic timing. But today, I had outdone myself. I had combined a triple-strength dose of industrial-grade laxatives with a proprietary blend of "Fart-Inducing Legume Extract" I’d sourced from a sketchy bodybuilder forum. I called it The Knight’s Gambit. Alaric called it delicious soup.

Just what I needed. "Thanks." I mouthed at him, gratefully. But he didn't respond to that. Instead he stared at me oddly and started backing away from me. "You know you stink a lot right?" He asked, staring at me, with his nose wrinkled in disgust. And I couldn't help but laugh. He was right, I stank so bad that I even wanted to run away from me. I stank of vomit, piss, dried sweat. And my breath was like like a dried dead mice, with the mixture of stale beer.

"Stay the fuck away from me." "Hai una bella boccata d'aria su di te, puttana." I was officially enraged. I knew puttana meant whore and I didn't want to believe that he just called me a whore. "Di chi cagna sei?" As if calling me a whore wasn't enough, he had to call me a bitch as well. I didn't think my decision through, but I definitely didn't regret it as I raised my knee and connected it with his groin.

I could see his muscles underneath, swarming with oozing black liquid. I tried not to breathe in the putrid smell, but it filled my lungs and festered the sides of my stomach. I gagged, trying not to bring up my stomach lining. “Sorry, Boss” Trauma grimaced “I’m trying to cover up the stink, but it just keeps getting worse.” Trauma pulled his leg back towards him. As he grabbed a handful of the skin, it came off in his hands. The people around him cried out on disgust. Neeb looked at it hungrily, his mouth now dribbling blood.

My hands… my legs… Heavy, cold chains are wrapped tightly around my wrists and ankles, locking me to the ground like an animal. For a second, my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing. It feels unreal, like my mind is protecting me from it. Then it hits me all at once, crashing through whatever denial I had left. The smell slams into me so hard my stomach twists violently…dirt, urine, blood, and rust. It clings to the air like it lives here. I gag, turning my head sharply to the side as my nose wrinkles in disgust.

I don't smell anything, whatever it is doesn't have any scent to it and I don't understand how this is supposed to help me. "There's no smell , how is it supposed to help me hide your stink on me?" I'm not happy at this moment and I don't care if he knows it. This is useless and I don't see the point in him doing this. This liquid is sticky too and I can feel it on my bare skin. Great, not only do I stink like sex funk but I'm sticky too.