The clock on the wall ticked ominously as 17-year-old Mason stood in the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The countertops were cluttered with plates of deviled eggs, tuna fish sandwiches, and a pot of beans still simmering on the stove. In the freezer, an extra-large Reese’s ice cream cake was waiting for its moment. Mason’s little brother, 14-year-old Ethan, had snitched on him last week for trying to sneak out late at night, and now it was payback time.Mason glanced at the clock again. 3:15 PM. “Time to pick up the little rat,” he muttered to himself, grabbing his car keys. He had it all planned out—Ethan would come home, Mason would offer him all this food, and then, once the gas started brewing in his brother’s gut, he’d strap that gas mask on him and let nature take its course. The mask, with its twin tubes snaking out like some kind of sci-fi torture device, sat on the kitchen table, ready for action.But when Mason pulled up to Ethan’s middle school, he realized something was off. The parking lot was nearly empty. He checked his phone and saw a text from his brother: “Hey, forgot to tell you. Sleepover at Jake’s tonight. Don’t wait up!” Mason groaned. “Are you kidding me?” He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. All that food, all that planning—wasted. Or was it?He drove back home, the wheels of his car crunching on the gravel driveway of their Houston suburb. As he walked inside, he froze. His dad, a burly man with a receding hairline, and his dad’s gym buddy, a guy named Tony who resembled a slightly shorter version of The Rock, were in the kitchen. And they were… eating. Everything.“Dad?! Tony?! What the hell?!” Mason shouted, his voice cracking. His dad looked up, a half-eaten deviled egg in one hand and a tuna sandwich in the other. “Hey, champ. This food’s amazing. You’re really stepping up your cooking game.” Tony nodded, his mouth full of beans. “Yeah, kid. Killer spread. Your dad’s lucky to have you.”Mason’s jaw dropped. “That wasn’t for you! That was for—never mind.” He stomped into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. His revenge plot was ruined. But then he heard it. A low, gurgling sound. Followed by another. And another. He peered into the kitchen and saw his dad and Tony leaning against the counter, their hands on their stomachs. “Oh… oh no,” his dad groaned. “Tony, I think we messed up.”Tony winced, his face pale. “Man, I haven’t felt like this since that chili cook-off in ‘09.”Mason’s eyes widened as he watched their stomachs visibly distend, their belts loosening by the second. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice trembling.“We… we ate it all,” his dad said, his voice strained. “Every last bite. And now… now it’s… moving.”Tony clutched his gut, his face scrunched in pain. “I think I need to… you know… let it out.”“Same,” Mason’s dad said, his voice tinged with panic. “But… we can’t just… not here. Not now.”Mason’s brain started to whir. The gas mask. It was still on the table. His eyes darted to it, then back to his dad and Tony. “Wait… wait a second. I’ve got an idea.”He sprinted into the kitchen, grabbing the mask. His dad and Tony stared at him, confused. “What the hell is that?” Tony asked, his voice tight.“It’s… it’s a gas mask,” Mason said, holding it up. “Look, I was going to use it on my brother, but… this is better. Way better.”“Better how?” his dad asked, his face turning red as he fought the pressure building inside him.“Just trust me,” Mason said, his voice steady. “Put it on. Both of you. And then… just let it out. All of it.”Tony’s eyes widened. “Kid, you don’t understand. This isn’t some little toot. This is… this is a weapon of mass destruction.”“Exactly,” Mason said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Now, put it on.”His dad hesitated, but the pain in his gut was too much. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”Mason helped him strap the mask on, then did the same for Tony. The two men sat side by side on the kitchen floor, their massive stomachs heaving with every breath. “Ready?” Mason asked.They nodded, their faces grim. “Go.”The sound was unholy. A deep, rumbling roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house. The mask’s tubes hissed as the gas flowed through them, filling the room with an invisible cloud of pure, unrelenting stench. Mason gagged, his eyes watering, but he didn’t back down. He watched as his dad and Tony’s stomachs slowly deflated, their faces shifting from pain to relief.“That’s it,” Mason said, his voice muffled by the smell. “Keep going. Don’t hold back.”The two men obliged, their bodies convulsing as they expelled every last ounce of gas. The air in the kitchen grew thick, almost tangible. Mason’s vision started to blur, his knees buckling. He fell to the floor, his head spinning. “Mason? Mason, you okay?” his dad’s voice sounded distant, muffled by the mask. Mason tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. His eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was Tony’s voice, faint but unmistakably amused. “Kid’s got guts. I’ll give him that.”

The clock on the wall ticked ominously as 17-year-old Mason stood in the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The countertops were cluttered with plates of deviled eggs, tuna fish sandwiches, and a pot of beans still simmering on the stove. In the freezer, an extra-large Reese’s ice cream cake was waiting for its moment. Mason’s little brother, 14-year-old Ethan, had snitched on him last week for trying to sneak out late at night, and now it was payback time.

Mason glanced at the clock again. *3:15 PM.* __“Time to pick up the little rat,”__ he muttered to himself, grabbing his car keys. He had it all planned out—Ethan would come home, Mason would offer him all this food, and then, once the gas started brewing in his brother’s gut, he’d strap that gas mask on him and let nature take its course. The mask, with its twin tubes snaking out like some kind of sci-fi torture device, sat on the kitchen table, ready for action.

But when Mason pulled up to Ethan’s middle school, he realized something was off. The parking lot was nearly empty. He checked his phone and saw a text from his brother: **“Hey, forgot to tell you. Sleepover at Jake’s tonight. Don’t wait up!”** Mason groaned. __“Are you kidding me?”__ He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. All that food, all that planning—wasted. Or was it?

He drove back home, the wheels of his car crunching on the gravel driveway of their Houston suburb. As he walked inside, he froze. His dad, a burly man with a receding hairline, and his dad’s gym buddy, a guy named Tony who resembled a slightly shorter version of The Rock, were in the kitchen. And they were… eating. __Everything.__

__“Dad?! Tony?! What the hell?!”__ Mason shouted, his voice cracking. 

His dad looked up, a half-eaten deviled egg in one hand and a tuna sandwich in the other. __“Hey, champ. This food’s amazing. You’re really stepping up your cooking game.”__ 

Tony nodded, his mouth full of beans. __“Yeah, kid. Killer spread. Your dad’s lucky to have you.”__

Mason’s jaw dropped. __“That wasn’t for you! That was for—never mind.”__ He stomped into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. His revenge plot was ruined. But then he heard it. A low, gurgling sound. Followed by another. And another. He peered into the kitchen and saw his dad and Tony leaning against the counter, their hands on their stomachs. 

__“Oh… oh no,”__ his dad groaned. __“Tony, I think we messed up.”__

Tony winced, his face pale. __“Man, I haven’t felt like this since that chili cook-off in ‘09.”__

Mason’s eyes widened as he watched their stomachs visibly distend, their belts loosening by the second. __“What did you do?”__ he asked, his voice trembling.

__“We… we ate it all,”__ his dad said, his voice strained. __“Every last bite. And now… now it’s… moving.”__

Tony clutched his gut, his face scrunched in pain. __“I think I need to… you know… let it out.”__

__“Same,”__ Mason’s dad said, his voice tinged with panic. __“But… we can’t just… not here. Not now.”__

Mason’s brain started to whir. The gas mask. It was still on the table. His eyes darted to it, then back to his dad and Tony. __“Wait… wait a second. I’ve got an idea.”__

He sprinted into the kitchen, grabbing the mask. His dad and Tony stared at him, confused. __“What the hell is that?”__ Tony asked, his voice tight.

__“It’s… it’s a gas mask,”__ Mason said, holding it up. __“Look, I was going to use it on my brother, but… this is better. Way better.”__

__“Better how?”__ his dad asked, his face turning red as he fought the pressure building inside him.

__“Just trust me,”__ Mason said, his voice steady. __“Put it on. Both of you. And then… just let it out. All of it.”__

Tony’s eyes widened. __“Kid, you don’t understand. This isn’t some little toot. This is… this is a weapon of mass destruction.”__

__“Exactly,”__ Mason said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. __“Now, put it on.”__

His dad hesitated, but the pain in his gut was too much. __“Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”__

Mason helped him strap the mask on, then did the same for Tony. The two men sat side by side on the kitchen floor, their massive stomachs heaving with every breath. __“Ready?”__ Mason asked.

They nodded, their faces grim. 

__“Go.”__

The sound was unholy. A deep, rumbling roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house. The mask’s tubes hissed as the gas flowed through them, filling the room with an invisible cloud of pure, unrelenting stench. Mason gagged, his eyes watering, but he didn’t back down. He watched as his dad and Tony’s stomachs slowly deflated, their faces shifting from pain to relief.

__“That’s it,”__ Mason said, his voice muffled by the smell. __“Keep going. Don’t hold back.”__

The two men obliged, their bodies convulsing as they expelled every last ounce of gas. The air in the kitchen grew thick, almost tangible. Mason’s vision started to blur, his knees buckling. He fell to the floor, his head spinning. 

__“Mason? Mason, you okay?”__ his dad’s voice sounded distant, muffled by the mask. 

Mason tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. His eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing he heard before everything went black was Tony’s voice, faint but unmistakably amused. __“Kid’s got guts. I’ll give him that.”__

A vengeful older brother plans to exact revenge on his younger sibling by feeding him a plethora of gassy foods and using a gas mask to trap the resulting fumes.

The plot takes a hilarious turn when the brother's father and his friend inadvertently consume all the prepared food, leading to an explosive situation that leaves the house filled with an overwhelming stench and the brother passing out from the fumes.

Brothers in Gas Mask Revenge

0 words