Scott Lang, also known as the hero Ant-Man, sat back on a sofa in the Avengers facility to catch his breath. Having just returned from a successful mission with his other teammates, he felt he deserved a break. As well as the tasty taco he had just made for himself.

Before he took a bite, however, a thought occurred to him. “Hey, wait… right now this is just your ordinary, garden variety average size-taco. But if I shrink down, to me it’ll be like, a gigantic super-taco!” Amazed by his own genius, he pressed a button on the belt of his suit and felt his size diminish until he was standing on the sofa cushion at a mere 1 inch tall.

Only after shrinking down did he realize there were a couple of flaws in his rushed plan. Number one: 1 inch tall was way too small to be able to actually eat anything. And number two: he had left the plate, and his food, on the table to the side of the couch.

“Oops. Ok, let’s try this again,” he muttered to himself as he looked down and fumbled with his belt. As he examined it, however, he failed to notice somebody walking into the room and over toward him. Only when a large shadow passed overhead did he glance up in surprise.

“Hey – mmphh!” Suddenly a huge weight crashed down on top of him, squashing him and burying him in the sofa cushion. He squirmed and wriggled under the enormous pressure, eventually managing to worm his way to the centre and relieving some of the weight. Only then did he stop to observe his surroundings, and came to an embarrassing realization. He recognized this shapely ass, these tight-fitting black leather pants… He was being sat on by Black Widow!

Natasha Romanoff relaxed into the seat, feeling drained after an intense mission. She was surprised to find the lounge empty, since she thought she’d seen Scott entering before. But she was glad for the privacy; her gut was making ominous noises, and she was far too classy to break wind in company.

Her eyes lit up as she noticed the taco sitting unattended next to her. “Awesome, I’m starving.” She picked it up and began to eat hungrily. She paused halfway through, thinking about her stomach and the reputation of Mexican food for causing gas. “Is this a good idea?..” she thought, then shrugged. “Ah screw it, there’s nobody around to hear.”

Scott, meanwhile, was cursing his luck beneath her. If it had been one of the guys, he could just return to full size and pretend this was a prank or something. But since it was a girl, she would definitely think he was trying to feel her up! “She’d probably kick my ass with some crazy martial art moves!” he thought. There was no choice; he just had to wait until she got up.

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a worrying gurgle from above. He gazed up into the dark abyss, feeling uneasy. “Wait a sec… she isn’t going to – “

Pffffffffft!

A gust of hot air blasted his body, blowing his hair back and causing his eyes to water. A second later, the smell hit; a devastating, sulphuric odour that had him rolling around gasping for breath. “Oh my god, she just – she farted on me!” he choked out.

Natasha crossed her legs nonchalantly as she browsed her phone. “Ugh, that’s bad,” she thought, wrinkling her nose as the smell wafted up. It was making her tummy feel much better, though. Her gut rumbled again and she strained to push out another fart.

Pfffffffffffffrrt!

“Not again!” Scott cried as he was blasted once more. These were true silent but deadly’s, quiet even at this point-blank range but carrying with them an indescribable stink. He started to seriously consider just revealing himself and accepting whatever punishment came, but decided to hold out. “I’ve made it this far,” he gritted his teeth. “Surely she’ll get up soon…”

She continued to sit and fart for another 15 minutes, pumping out gas relentlessly and all the while unknowingly torturing her colleague. Even she was surprised by how gassy she was, as she ripped yet another monster into the cushion. “I think I’m paying for that taco now,” she smiled to herself, rubbing her ass into the seat.

Scott was beginning to panic. He felt himself growing dizzy as the oxygen around him was slowly replaced by methane, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this stink. He inhaled her latest release and noticed the farts were starting to smell oddly familiar. “She ate my taco!” he realized, outraged. “That does it, I’m getting out of here.” He began to wriggle, but stopped suddenly as the weight above him shifted. “She’s moving,” he noticed. “Is she finally getting up?”

Natasha bent over slightly, holding her stomach as it growled menacingly. “Oh man, this one’s gonna be bad,” she muttered to herself, double checking the room was empty. She strained, needing the relief her farts provided. “Sorry about this, couch cushion!”

Bbbbbbrrrrrrpppppppppppppttttttttttttt!

A storm of wind battered Scott’s miniature body as he was deafened by a thunderous roar. Unlike her other farts, this one was long and loud, and was accompanied by a stench so foul he felt bile rise in his throat. He managed to avoid vomiting, but knew he couldn’t stay in this stinky cave a second longer. He thrashed around desperately, no longer caring if his struggles attracted her attention.

Natasha’s cheeks turned slightly pink, and she glanced left and right to reassure herself. That last release was a lot louder than she’d intended, and a little too funky even for her. Plus, her crack was feeling itchy all of a sudden; she wiggled her ass into the sofa until it stopped, but still wasn’t quite satisfied. This would need further attention. Paranoid somebody could walk in at any time, she decided to head to her bedroom, to let out the rest of her wind with increased privacy.

Scott almost cried with relief as the pressure on his body decreased, and the weight of Natasha’s butt lifted away from him. But his relief quickly turned to horror, as he realised he’d made a fatal error. In his panicked thrashings enduring her last bomb, and her consequential rubbing, he’d managed to somehow entangle his arms and legs in the tiny fibres of her suit! He was completely stuck!

He tugged and jerked his limbs, but it was no use; he was hopelessly plastered to Black Widow’s booty. Her cheeks jiggled and ground him between them as she walked, and the stench of her most recent emission was still baked into the seat of her suit. He moaned quietly as he was carried away to her room, wondering when he would be free of her torturous poots.