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Before the Hotbox PART 1 From the very beginning I knew it was going to be one of those days. You don’t know why or how, but you just feel loaded, armed to the teeth and ready to blow and unfortunately for me, this was one of those days. BBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!! The sound began as a slight rumble underneath my covers before picking up in pitch, upping the bass it growled louder and louder until it sounded like a freight train running through my apartment. After a full eight seconds the beast had run its course and the air grew quietly, until I smelled it. God I had created death there underneath my covers. It took me only five seconds before I regretted every bit of what I had just created. I began to choke under the potent gas that I had just produced. It again smelled like burning shit with all the eye watering power that eating too many onions would do to me. This one fart had enough power to clear out my entire bedroom. I quickly threw my covers off of me and got up, scrunching my nose as I could feel the sheer heat and fogginess of the gas I had allowed to collect there in that room. “Jesus that reeks!” I say to myself as I stood up off of my bed. Wearing only a pair of white panties and a bra I must have looked rather beautiful despite my obvious morning hair, and my slight case of gas. I moved around my bedroom as I looked for the light switch to illuminate my room. Turning the lights on and giving my eyes a rude awakening I felt another bubble in my stomach. Might as well release it here. Ugg….these were terrible. I could almost feel the floor beneath me shake, these were not your everyday farts, these were gigantic farts, my morning farts. You know, the ones you form when you’ve been sleeping all night long, allowing for gas to form and continuously form and with my abnormal flatulence problem well, that’s only doubled. My morning thunder is notorious for being more like bombs coming out of my ass, all that pent up gas, I just blow it away through my underwear, there’s a reason I have my own bedroom in my own apartment. I could never survive being in a college dorm with the way my farts can be and even on team events I have to try my best to hold in my gas, lest I stink that up. Which I still do most of the time. The smell of these farts is basically what you’d expect from a super-gassy girl, bad. This morning’s blasts seem to have a strong meaty and oniony smell to them, probably due to the three Animal Style burgers from In-N-Out last night, that and the Animal Style fries, lots of onions and cheese. I step out of my bedroom and walk toward the bathroom, I’m feeling very bloated but to my surprise I did not have to take a crap. I sit down on the toilet seat and begin pissing away while blasting a couple of short farts into the toilet bowl. Even small farts like that pack a bad stink and soon the bathroom is filled with my putrid-smelling gas. After spending a couple of minutes on the john hoping that I could drop a deuce I sigh to myself and get up. I decide not to spray the bathroom, it stinks but it doesn’t stink that bad so I quickly wash myself, a quick shower, before heading out of the bathroom, it’s just after 6:00 but I have a busy day ahead of me. I walk into the kitchen and grab the box of Fiber One cereal and begin to prepare my breakfast. I look in my refrigerator to grab five hard boiled eggs that had been sitting on the shelf. Finally, I reach to the top of the fridge to get the MuscleMax protein shake; pouring it into a large glass I dissolve the chocolatey taste into the water to produce the thick shake, full of nutrients to help me form some better muscles for my volleyball. I take my body quite seriously as my roommate can unfortunately attest to. With my incredibly-gassy breakfast before me I turn on the flat screen TV in our kitchen and begin watching the news. Yes I watch the news, what’s wrong with me beautiful, gassy and well-informed. I also watch the news about celebrity gossip and stuff like that, anything with sports, anything involving the Bruins in action and the weather. Living only a few blocks away from campus does afford me to be in the rare spot that I don’t have to worry about traffic, usually. I watched the weather report and today was in to be a hot day. It was going to be almost 100 degrees, out here in the L.A. Basin, even hotter in the valleys and desert; it was going to be a scorcher to say the least. I burped a little as I took another swig of my shake. The hot and dry weather is nice I suppose if you’re coming from the north, but it can get quite tiresome. I did a run in a brief rain shower last week and it was the most refreshing thing I had done in a while, it also gave quite the wet-shirt effect with my nipples. I looked down at my 40D breasts protruding outward proudly from my bra. I had changed my clothes back into a white sports bra, specially designed to handle my chest while playing sports. Having these things can be a curse, but it also feels great to be well-endowed. I’m proud of it; I have everything perfect, even my farts. PPPPPHHHHHHHH-BBBBBBBBBBBB-PPPPRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!! I lean over and out comes something that resembles a large fart but with a sort of weird sensation to it. It comes out for a couple of seconds, a simple trumpet-like sound out of my panties and then cuts off briefly before picking up again with a little bit more bass action with the gas rushing out from between the cheeks, and then there’s a second lull. And then the fart comes out with a force that was quite strong even by my standards. It was about six seconds worth of what I would simply call “muscular farts,” flexing itself with an awe-inspiring force of power. If people were into that sort of thing, guys like a lot of things about me but as my experience has shown, farts aren’t one of them. This fart was like a deep growl from some ancient monster deep in my belly. The stench was satanic; it was more powerful, refueled by the eggs and fiber and protein, yeah I was ready to kill with my farts but I was about to go on a run so I thought I’d get rid of some of that gas. And then I smelled it in larger quantities, it was going to stink up the entire apartment. And to make things worse I could feel the gurgling within my stomach as I began to feel an infinite amount of toxic, infernal gas brewing within me. Looking around I leaned over and produced some more toxic thunder. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!! Whew! What a workload, it was practically a workout to release those farts. If my first fart ended in an explosion, then my others were just as fierce, if not even stronger. The protein was already doing its work, I had thoroughly stunk up that kitchen so severely that I was about to get sick myself just breathing in the gas. My last fart was nearly 14 seconds in length, quite a hefty payload. I had my hands pressed on the table as I produced these bombastic release from my ass. The force of my farts shook the walls of the kitchen harder and the window was producing an ample amount of condensation from all the humid, protein-powered gas that I was releasing. I started coughing as I smelled the corrosive farts through the room, these were real protein farts. An overload on the senses of putrid stink that could only be described as truckloads of sulfur and shit merged together to produce an odor that boggled your nose, made you think long and hard about taking your next breath as you knew that that aroma was only going to get stronger. My protein farts are beyond comparison, at my condition anyway. Any normal person with protein farts could do damage, but when you have abnormal flatulence, that effect is effectively tripled. The smell was wicked, I had to walk to the kitchen window to open it up and clear out the air, but it was already too late, I heard her, my roommate. “Becky?!” She cried out as she opened up her bedroom door. Yep she smelled it; of course she smelled it and if she was bringing my attention to it then that meant that it was even stronger than usual. And the bad part, I still had half my breakfast to go through. Gloria comes running down the hallway toward the kitchen where I’m sure her senses were on overload from the repugnant odor coming out of my butt. I stand there with my hands on my hips as I greet my roommate, my short roommate, she’s barely five feet tall, meaning that the top of her head only reaches my chin meaning that she gets a very nice eyeful of my large breasts. I’m laughing a bit as she looked visibly disturbed by my malodorous odor. She was gagging profoundly as she entered the kitchen, thinking that she had just stepped into some kind of chemical attack ongoing. “Do you just crap thunder into that toilet?” She asked me, I had to laugh over that remark as she had mistaken a couple of farts into the toilet for me taking a shit. “No.” “Well it fucking smells in there.” “And it’s about to get worse…” I said with a trail of snickers following me. I loved this, feeling armed and loaded with nothing anyone else could do. Gloria shook her head, she couldn’t imagine how the smell in that kitchen could get any worse, but then I dropped another bomb. Another proud and loud protein bomb fart escaped my panties and shook the walls as Gloria looked as if I had just murdered a baby in disgust. The gas was starting to take on a very moist quality. The enormous fart was so thick and putrid; it left her nose dripping with moisture. The fart went on for 15 seconds, it drained all her energy out as she started to look lightheaded, and wondering what on Earth could have compelled this rich girl to release such a demon. Even I could not believe how much of a fart this was, only a person like me with my size and muscles could have released such a massive fart at a consistent pitch. This beefy rip out of my butt was the most violet eruption to have ever escaped my backside, today. Potent would be an unfair word to use, it was worse than that, it was deadly. It had a concoction of the most sinister chemicals ever devised in the human body. I studied this kind of stuff, I knew what went into the stuff I was taking and what kind of chemical it would release. “Jesus Becky!” Gloria screamed as the fart had subsided leaving in the kitchen a residue of pure stink that made whatever she smelled in the bathroom seem like child’s play. My butt felt like it was on fire after I had released this powerful fart, my panties didn’t even try to absorb all of the fumes; this thing likely stunk up the rooms on either side of our apartments. It was a spacious apartment but still we had neighbors. Gloria ran back to her room and in less than 15 seconds she had gathered her belongings for the day, for classes and stuff at school and made a beeline back from her bedroom into the kitchen and out the door, complaining the whole way about how sick I am. The smell was a powerful monster that smelt like burnt cabbage on steroids in that room, along with anything else that could produce such a dreadful smell. It felt like the sun was positioned within my ass and for a few seconds it felt as if I was farting out the sun. It was far stronger than any of the other farts she had cut likely that morning and I was already hitting some fine altitude with my farts. Gloria was out of the apartment, disgusted over her nasty ass roommate, the same roommate who was one of the wealthiest 19-year olds in the world and the “supposedly” hottest girl on campus. If only they could see me here, standing in my bra and panties as I release these gigantically toxic-smelling farts that could make the gassiest guy blush. “I better finish up, I gotta run.” And with that I sat back down like a trooper and finished the other half of my meal, adding twice if not more fuel to my arsenal. I did open up the windows and such and left them that way as I quickly got into some running clothes, a blue UCLA T-shirt and a pair of short black shorts. With the size of my butt there wasn’t much to hide its vastness other than by wearing a large skirt or a dress and I couldn’t wear one of those things running around campus. I took a look at my phone and examined my schedule, a morning run, a couple of classes, a little time for me in the library, lunch, another class and volleyball practice. A busy day for an extremely gassy girl. I slip my small iPhone into my shorts as I get my earbuds ready for my run, getting a soundtrack ready. I walk onto the elevator of the apartment building where I’m at when it hits me. I get onboard at the 15th floor and begin my descent down and without no warning at all I feel the gas bubble, what a perfect spot for a fart. PPPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!! Luckily it was a quiet fart, and luckily no one else was on board, though I was now worried that someone would stop the elevator just before it reached the ground floor. But the smell coming out of this fart sure made up for the lack of length, it was brutal! This was a textbook elevator fart; it was silent and heavy on the smell. I could have easily cleared out an auditorium with this one; it was far stronger than I thought it would be. It was a silent protein fart in an elevator; I was quite amazed with myself. I stood at roughly the center of the elevator and the smell was the strongest right there. It smelled like manure, some kind of gas collected by cow dung in a factory farm, left to simmer and stew in a rich environment such as the enclosure of this elevator. Upon release the gas had some time to concentrate within the elevator car as I continued descending toward the ground floor. The hot air warmed my shorts even more as I grimaced a little bit from the increasing decline in air quality. My nostrils were flaring as I soon realized that this was going to be a behemoth of a fart. My eyes were tearing up as I smelled more and more of the rotten odor, God this stunk so bad my fart was fucking horrible. I was starting to feel sorry for whoever would come on board. DING-DING “Hey Becky!” A guy greeted me as the door opened. “Hey Josh.” I replied without skipping a beat, and then it hit me, he was walking on board. Into my fart, he was going to die. Luckily we were only greeting each other, he saw me and knew that I was heading out just by the way I looked, no time for chitchat but I didn’t want to be any closer to him as I saw his fate. He was a hunk, a stud, a beautiful man, and he was walking on board an elevator with a nasty fart left there for him, oh that fart could hang around for a full hour with the lack of windows and minimal door opening to let some of the smell out. I took a quick glance back to him with a smile as I saw him walk on board. He was looking back at me, perhaps at my butt and then the smell got to him, the door closed before I got to see anymore of him, his fate was sealed, he was trapped in my own personally created elevator gas chamber. But enough of that, it was time for my morning run. My morning jog took me through the campus of my university generally takes me along the western edge of campus past some of the sports facilities. For part of my run I’m jogging along sidewalks and for others along pathways through the campus. I must me quite a sight to those who are seeing me as I run past them. My ass stands out nice and proud, round and firm; it danced as I jogged, my muscles visible through my tight spandex shorts. Beneath that perfect ass of mine was a pair of legs that were long, sculpted and muscled. I am a sexy little thing and I know it, blessed with the best genetics money could buy, well generally speaking anyway, my features are natural thank you very much. The problem with running is that it also gets my stomach churning and I’m cutting tiny farts as I run, with my soundtrack running through my head I can’t hear any of the farts, but they feel to have some sound with them. Still, the walkways are still fairly quiet at this hour of the day with the general rush of students not coming in for another hour or so and so my run is peaceful, which is good become I’m releasing some nuclear-grade flatulence out of my bubbly behind. As I near the end of my run I see them loom ahead of me, the Janss Steps, an iconic staircase on campus and perfect for exercising my legs a little bit more. And just like Rocky I run up the steps, skipping over the sixth one of course, as I make it toward the top of the staircase. With each step my stomach is working overtime, trying to produce something as my body is making it harder for it to keep up its shape, working out makes me fart a ton and this run is no different. Even at this hour, it’s already getting warm with sweat wrapping over me as I run up the brown steps with the American and California flag looming ahead at the top. The whole action takes me no more than 15 seconds but it seems a bit longer when you are hulling your body uphill while jogging. When I reach the top I stop for a moment. I bend my upper part of the body down as I put my hands on my knees, breathing with exhaustion as I take a short break from that endurance test up the steps. As my body is leaning forward my butt is sticking out and I fart again. I noticed an odd sound in the background of my music as I push out this fart. With the music out I cannot hear the full thing at its majesty but I can feel the fart leave my behind, it’s epic. Although it was nowhere as bad as this I feel as almost I’m creating a shockwave of fart power outwards some 20 feet from my ass, the smell certainly went that far but the sound was more of a muffled bass than anything else, loads and loads of gas trying to leave the confines of my smelly behind as I smile to myself, happy to have released that bomb and a quick sensory glance as I made it to the top indicated that no one was within that radius of me, yet. Which was good because the smell to leave this nasty fart was exactly what you’d expect from a nasty fart. My shorts were on fire, nearly anyway with the added heat from my fart. I could feel a cloud of steam pouring through my shorts as I spewed out something that was quite diabolical, a mixture of repugnant and toxic that made for the perfect smelling fart. The smell was barf-inducing, a ghastly smell that could kill small animals and eliminate most plants that had formed in a spot, if it weren’t for my knowledge that farts contained oxygen I could have almost imagined a small splotch of brown forming on the grass, not that we needed given the dry conditions. After the nearly 15-second long release of my putrid gas I had ceased farting. Removing my earbuds I turn my music off for a moment as I stand there with my hands on my hips, admiring my proud odor. It was another true Becky Firestone fart, the best of the best. There was something about me, a very rich girl who can drop very rich farts. It was nasty, but then I heard a voice come from along the steps as I quickly look back. “…these steps were named for the Janss brothers who donated the land here for the campus…” it was from a tour guide, they were doing campus tours at this hour? Sure enough, he had a group with him of about 20 prospective students and their parents, all walking up the steps right to my location. They were going to walk into the dome of my hot smelling gas when they reached the top. And with that thought I resumed my run and left the scene of the crime, but I felt bad for them, this was an awful stinking fart. Thinking about where to go, I ended up heading back toward my apartment to quickly change before heading out to class. I made my way back up to my apartment, walking toward the elevator I was reminded once more of the power of my farts. I walked right up toward the elevator door and smelled a small lingering aroma of my gas. When the elevator came down, the door opened up and there he was once again, Josh. “Hey Becky.” He said, his voice much less enthusiastic than last time. “Hey Josh.” I said to him, smiling as we traded positions so that I can ride the elevator up to my floor. “I don’t know what happened in there, but it stinks…” He said nodding his head with a kind of look on his face. I smiled back at him and told him that I wasn’t worried about. Entering the elevator I rode it upward and noticed that my handwork was amazingly still there. It was much more bearable but still, the elevator was still stinking of my fart nearly a solid hour after I had left. And I felt more gas brewing right now, God I could make this thing stink for the rest of the day, but I was merciful and waited until I got back into my room. Closing the door I pressed my hands up against the door as I pressed forth three gigantic blasts out of my spandex-covered ass. BBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!! PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!! Jesus Christ this was fucking rich! I sure hope Gloria had left the apartment after this because these were three ginormous stink bombs. The farts shook everything in the living room, the walls, the windows, the floor; it came out as flapping ear-piercing noise that could have been heard during a basketball game with the crowd cheering. Anyone with their ear right next to my ass would have probably gone deaf after hearing the blaring loudness of these powerful farts. I was panting to myself as I felt this gas bubble leave my ass, it was more than a mere bubble though, three farts like this were horrific to come out of my gas. No one who would have cast their eyes on me as I ran around campus with my bubbly butt swaying in my shorts could have imagined that I could cut thunder like this. I began to giggle like a madwoman as I slowly turned my body back around from the door, feeling the ripe air in the living room. The room looked the same as it had done before, but the air quality was a whole different matter. “What did I eat?” I cry out to myself, knowing very well the answer. The smell was even gaggier than before; it was enough to make me barf, almost anyway. I could smell more of my skunky and shit smell flies around as the yellow haze continued to expand throughout the large apartment. Spacious or not the luxury apartment was going to be reeking of rotten eggs for quite some time. It was starting to smell like the insides of a porta-potty, which was becoming more inviting as my stomach continued to gurgle. The smell of sulfur and methane continued to dominate as the gas was condensing on the TV screen as the puke-inducing odor hung around. Still I had to get ready for school for real so I made it over to my bedroom to change into something a little less athletic. A white tank top with a cleavage cut and a pair of short blue denim shorts. Alright, not exactly the most professional outfit out there, but it was going to be a hot day and I was not going to sweat any more than I normally would. I grabbed my black backpack and threw in one of my volleyball uniforms and a pair of blue shorts. There would be a short practice session after my last class so I might as well have all that ready for me. Grabbing my phone and my other belongings I left the smoldering gas compartment of my apartment to head off for school. I checked the time on my phone; it was nearly 8:00 and about time for my first class of the day. I jogged down another walkway as I continued my work out for another few minutes before filing into one of the school buildings toward an auditorium that held about 200 seats inside of it. It was a communications class, which I was forced to take due to my being a freshman student. You had these annoying prerequisite classes that everyone had to take regardless of what their major was actually going to be. I was in one of these at the moment and yes I did actually attend the classes. It was always a good image for a student athlete to be giving a damn about her education even if her own body was worth more than what most of these students could make in a year. That’s a joke….mostly. And while communications was a bore to go through it gave me time to go on my computer and check things. Yes, I was that kind of student, on her laptop “pretending” to pay attention to things while browsing Facebook and other sites. And with half the class missing that morning it hardly mattered to the prof how much attention was being given, even he admitted at the beginning of the school year how stupid the class was. The bigger problem though right at the moment wasn’t me admitting that he was right about that, but about the pain in my bowels. Miraculously I had gone through nearly 45 minutes without farting, those three big farts I was sure had cleared out my system. I was wrong. It started 15 minutes into class and continued, a pain, a gas pain. It was like I was having a stomach ache, which was making this already dreadful lecture seem more infuriating. At first I thought that it would just be a small surge, I’d let it out after class and be done with it, but it was consistent, annoyingly consistent. I could feel it almost on a microscopic level, a small something form in my stomach and travel down through my intestines. Like the traffic here in L.A. it would move slowly through the intestines, picking up more of the chemicals that would help mold it into a fine specimen of a fart and at my current power even a small one like this one could have major impacts. I could end class right now if I wanted too, I so wanted to but I was also aware of a concept like self-control. And to add onto to everything else, I got the message from my parents, they needed me home this weekend. Which would be fine and all except for one thing, my car was in the shop. As if there wasn’t enough shit to get me going, and then the gas pang upped itself a tick and I was near a breaking point. I had a rather unique ability, at least I thought so, and that was the ability to basically control the kind of fart I release. Loud ones were always done in places with few or little people, like my apartment, silent farts could be done in the presence of others. I have gotten away with many, many SBDs in my life because of this ability. Scores of men have taken the fall for my butt’s emissions, a point of pride I do like but this one felt as if it was going to be rotten. I can picture the scene, I lean very subtly to the right, not as if anyone else was paying attention; they were all on their laptops too. And then I release it, not the whole fart naturally, I want to relieve myself of this pressure, not kill anyone. A small burst of gas, just enough to relieve me of the pain, like putting a Band-Aid on a paper cut, to stop the bleeding but not get rid of the hurt. And I would watch the gas travel throughout the auditorium. The gothic kid in front of me would smell it first; he’d either do nothing or look around. He’d see me but I’m smelling of some perfume I had splashed on before class, no way it could be me. He’d look around, there’s a nerdy-like kid toward my right, it could be him. There’s a group of boys who were all busy looking at some video on YouTube in their little corner, they could be playing a trick and someone decided to let on rip. To the goth kid’s left was another smattering of guys, all trying to pay attention, all numerous candidates. But the fart would have come out of my butt and that carried a different set of consequences. Being rich has it’s privileges, no doubt about that, one being everyone trying to please you, be on your good side and ignoring the possibility that you may have been the one that had cut the cheese. In my lifetime, my abnormal flatulence had delivered over 100 silent farts into a classroom and/or auditorium with the capacity to stink up the entire space. Not tiny farts that only I can smell, no siree, we’re talking big wafting fumes of hot eggy gas filling up the room with all those smelling it pointing fingers, coughing or just saying nothing at all, waiting for the first person to speak up about the fart. And I was never accused of anything, not once at all. A few other farts in classes had carried some noise but my friends were quick to insulate me from any accusation, guys would still be accused instead for the smell and even a couple of my friends took the fall for my own farts. But right now wasn’t the time for now. This fart would have ended class in a heartbeat, a hiss of foul wind several seconds long that would carry a particularly dangerous brand of protein fart into a room half-full of people not suspecting it. People could become sick from having to smell this, at the rate I was going I wouldn’t be surprised and it was Friday. There was no reason to make people ill just before the weekend; I’m not a bitch as it were. So when my stomach turned another knot of gas in my bowels and delivered even more toxic gas into my intestines I knew there was only one course of action, leave. No one said anything about my departure, which was good to say the least because I was only ten feet away from the door to the auditorium when I had to stop. Looking around the hallway, the coast was clear. I stood there, lifted my right volleyball-crafted leg up in the air and began to cut the fart. The change-of-venue from the occupied auditorium to the empty hallway had changed the composition of the fart and how it was going to be unloaded. And because of that change, instead of being a small release to momentarily help me, I threw the gauntlet and dropped the whole thing. Ahhh….and that’s what it feels like to release some gas after letting it build up during class. In short, the fart was a giant. The walls nearest to me shook as the fart roared like a lion out from my ass, burning out with a great fury and power, this one was horrific to hear, could they have heard it from the auditorium, I was not sure. My eyes were fogging up from the aroma of the fart, smelling like burning death and only being amplified as finished up this massive release with a big smile on my face. The hallway was still clear, the benefit of it being still too early on a Friday morning. My ears were humming with the sound of this loud explosion, rocking my eardrums with the fury of two buttocks getting a solid workout from boatloads of gas being released during the duration of the fart. Echoing off the walls of the hallway though were what sold it, making it even louder. But it wasn’t the sound that made this fart maddening; it was the appalling smell that came after it. Now I was positive that I did not want to release this fart in the auditorium. This fart was rank, really rank. It smelled some kind of greasy shit that was the byproduct of some sort of chemistry experiment gone wrong. It festered in a sea of flames before releasing itself upon the world. Smelling this fart would cause someone to have to quickly move away as inhalation of the fumes was a little too much for the mere human to smell. My farts were even richer than me and that was saying a lot. Needless to say, I left that hallway as soon as I could. If only that were so. “Miss Firestone.” I heard a voice come from ahead of me as another professor rounded a corner to enter the hallway where I had just released a massive amount of ungodly-smelling gas. I was mortified, most people and I do mean that sincerely, weren’t aware of my overactive sphincter, and Mr. Wu was among them. He was a professor for one of my humanities classes that I had on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He came walking up with hit white button-up shirt and khaki pants, about as professional as a professor could look on a Friday. He was also short, not an Asian joke I promise, but he was only 5’4 and at my height his head was, well he got a very nice view of my cleavage I’ll say that. I can’t say that didn’t turn him on, but at the moment my looks wasn’t the big concern I had, it was the devastating release of killer gas that I had just deposited there in the hallway, my ears still ringing with the loudness of that blast. “Yes Mr. Wu?” I walked up to him as calmly as I could. “I’m glad I caught you, is there a way to discuss your upcoming schedule.” “Right here?” “I don’t see why not.” He was a bit misinformed that I wasn’t saying that as a statement but more as a question, I was just far enough away from the brutal epicenter of the fart but my gas travels. To have him smell it, given that I was the only other person in the hallway. Adjusting his glasses he pulled out his phone to consult with me as I had some upcoming travel dates as a part of my participation with the volleyball team. My heart started pounding as I had only a short amount of time before the wave of my fart would reach him and there was always the possibility that the students from my class would be released early. “Now you are traveling up to Oregon next weekend correct, so next Thursday you won’t be able to….” “Um right. I can get the work done before then.” “Okay, as long as you are able to….” The professor trails off for a moment as he continues going on about how I can do my work before the class was to take place. It was some assignment that he had given us a couple of weeks to work on due next week. I was almost finished as it were, I did not need this discussion and the smell of my fart was now reaching my nose, again. After releasing a hefty gaseous load like that I rather not have to smell it again. “Look, can we discuss this later in your office.” “I suppose so, now the following week you are playing at USC, right?” “Yeah, but that’s in town, it’ll be no problem….I’m sorry, I really have to go….” I told him as he took a quick glance of the phone….oh God there’s the smell, it had traveled the length of the hallway with relative ease. I think he began noticing it too, but not ready to point a finger in my direction. He finally looked up and agreed that I had to go and with that the door to the lecture hall opened up and out came a sea of students into my nasty sea of gas. I said a quick good bye and walked away around the corner, within just enough earshot to hear students cough as they smelled the brunt of my nastiness. Unfortunately, I had set the professor up as he stood there in the hallway, as perplexed by the smell as the other students, as the likely perpetrator of that fart. Meanwhile, I was running up the steps toward the highest floor in that building, the one with mostly offices and a couple of classrooms toward a women’s restroom to use the facilities there. I tended to use these bathrooms as upper floors had fewer students in general due to their laziness to climb to the higher floors and to actually visit their teachers. I had the bathroom alone to do my damage as I sat on the toilet and farted a few times, loud and echoing off the toilet bowl I was hoping to take a small crap but the shit was being lazy as well and would not come out. Still, my bowels were relieved at the moment. Now it was time to look into more desperate matters. I had to go home, or at least that was what my parents were telling me. Problem was, my car was in the shop and they promised that it would be done by earlier in the week. Although I could have just called them and asked about it, I wanted to be certain so I had to get over to the shop and ask about it. But I was without a car, and in Los Angeles that was a bit of the problem. That and the dealership was out over in Beverly Hills which was a bit of a hike from where I was at. So I decided that I might as well call a car sharing service and utilize their services over to the shop. Sure, I have access to limousine, but they are stationed out in downtown and back in Laguna Beach and having to call one over, even at my command to take me one town over would have been seen as wasting resources. The fact that my car was being worked on, my expensive car, was bad enough. So I went cheap and called Uber. Now about 9:20 in the morning and I agreed to meet the ride in Westwood Village and I could immediately tell that the driver was going to be some sort of douche. It was a fancy black sports car, not exactly as high as my income level but pretty swank for most commoners. And no, don’t think this is me insulting those who aren’t rich, non-rich people in my opinion have much more class than the rich; this guy was just trying to fucking hard and sucking at it. He pulls up and sees me and must have thought that he just scored big. His name was Josh and he began by greeting me with “Hey Babe.” Yeah, not a good start. He was roughly my age, dressed in a black button-up shirt with white pants and smelling of boatloads of cologne. Driving in this part of the city, he was dressed and smelled to impress. What he lacked was common etiquette, such as asking me how rich I was. “Richer than you…now go.” I told him as I tried to indicate to him that I was not interested in talking. I’ve seen men like him before, he started driving his car, reeving up his engine as if he were a professional racer. Dude I drive a Ferrari California T; you don’t have to be giving me lectures about cars and shit. It did give me some delight in knowing that the seat in my car that I regularly fart into is worth more than what this dude makes in a week or two. The drive down Wilshire Boulevard this early morning was a long slog, probably a good 25 minutes just to get to the office for Ferrari. They were working on it in some shop very close to the main office, out of prying eyes from those who get hard-ons for cars. I was never one to give a shit about how a car runs, yeah I guess I’m your typical girl in that regard, but I was more focused on sports than anything else. Guys like cars, I like volleyball….and farting as has been the case today. “So what do you do Miss Firestone, I mean, you involved in anything big, the way you’re looking, you gotta be involved in something?” He asked. Dear God why the hell does he think I’m involved with the damn movie business. I a college student for fuck’s sake. But I had to mess around with him. “Oh yeah, I’m involved in something, something hot, something….a bit nasty I’ll admit…” I said with a slight snicker. Looking at my phone we were ten minutes away from the dealership, I hope. “Porn?” “Oh no, it’s with a major group. The deal’s been bubbling up for quite sometime, a little bit of this and that, but we think we have the perfect kind of show, just what people want. Something that will blow you away!” “No shit…with you babe, what’s it called?” “You know I can’t divulge into that…contract and stuff, you understand.” “Sure, but any kinds of hints?” “Let’s just say it’s something you’d remember me by.” I said as I felt it arrive, a new gas bubble. And just the right spot too. The guy continued rabbling for another couple of minutes, talking about his connections. He was all hot air, but luckily for him I was creating some real hot air just for him. I kept my gas pain quiet to him, there was no rumbling or anything, this was going to be silent alright, just the right kind of mix, I had to time it as we got into Beverly Hills. I must have looked smoking to him; he couldn’t keep his eye off my cleavage, man what class this dude. I gave him instructions to meet me back at my location in five minutes as we got near the location. He continued bragging about his skills as a car driver. We arrived at the curb, I told him the information as I delivered my payload. Ten seconds worth of noxious, pungent and devastating flatulence right into his precious car seat. Yes I’ve been waiting for this. It was going to stink, a silent and deadly protein fart right for his asshole to whiff up. I felt no remorse for him for the gastric destruction I was about to cause. I told him good bye and gave him a smile as I awaited his return, this was going to be a quick meeting nothing more. I almost felt bad leaving since I was going to miss the true power of this stinker, but I had business to attend to. I stepped out the car and had him drive off down the street. I looked eastward as he continued and saw a slight swerve in the car, dude’s noticed my fart by now, I was kind of hoping he’d crash, but he didn’t. Alright, I guess that’s a little mean to think. I walked into the fancy showroom, all dressed like a typical college student, with everyone else dressed in more professional outfits. As soon as I had reached the desk another guy came in to address me, already knowing who I was and what my problem was. I mean, I did message them about it beforehand so it wasn’t a surprise. Speaking with some kind of accent, no not Italian, he came to deliver me the bad news. “We regret to tell you that the California T won’t be available today, it is still in shop.” “Over seats?” “These weren’t just normal seats; this leather came from all the way in Italy. We don’t bother in simple fabrics like they do on most vehicles; we are distinct for a reason miss.” “No ma’am, there’s nowhere to sit, the entire seat had to be replaced, there’s just the body casing down there where you would sit. The seat should be in today and we’ll have it installed by Monday.” “Alright, alright. I just had to make sure; I need to get to Laguna today.” “Well, we can hook you up with some exclusive services to take you down there.” “I’ll think it over.” I told him. I really didn’t want to give him any more money, but if I had exhausted all options I could consider it. I was hoping I could convince my parents to allow me to stay this weekend. And with that I turned around and walked toward the exit, with that sales person eyeing my ass as I walked by, I could tell these things. He asked one more thing before I left. “I’m curious….what happened to the seat, I mean, what caused that to happen, for the seat to become as damaged as it was?” “Taco Bell.” I smiled at him as I left the building. It was one of those perfect one-liners that probably had him scratching his head. How could food cause havoc to a seat, well, it was what happened to that food. Like an idiot, I will admit, I ate some Taco Bell after just getting the car, and my car farts were horrendous that day, like toxic and thunderous. We had to upgrade to some higher intensity fabric for the refit, which hopefully would be able to take the pressure of my farts. And speaking of taking in my gas, here comes windbag once more. I noticed his car now had the windows down as I came back. I stepped into the car and immediately felt it, my gas had matured. “Um, sorry miss about the smell.” And like that, the dude was fucking apologizing to me, about the smell I had created. I should be apologizing to him, but this was too good to see. The look on his face, he was sweaty, his face looked a different color, he looked as if he were sick and upon a quick inspection of my delightful flatulence I could see what might have caused that feeling in him. From when I was last inside that car, only four and a half minutes ago actually, the temperature felt a bit warmer. Maybe it was the sun and maybe it was getting warmer outside, or maybe it was because my fart was hot. Most farts are over by four minutes after their initial release, science is to blame for that, but this was a silent but deadly protein fart out of my ass, four minutes was just the initial phase. Like any proud parent, I had just given birth and now I was stepping in to see my fart mature into something bigger. Josh had all the windows in his car open, fresh air was coming in, but it wasn’t coming in enough to combat the thick and musky potency of my fart. The car smelled absolutely horrible, a cornucopia of the raunchiest foods one can find, weeks-old cheese and hard boiled eggs, on top of a thick fermented brew of something I can only describe as female musk, the smell of our underparts, an additional female statement that I’ve noticed in some of my fart smells. It mixes the other components quite well to add an extra oomph to the expansive aroma of my gas. In any case, the air inside the vehicle was rotten beyond anything even I had expected, it was killer, and Josh was apologizing to me about the smell. He looked as if he were about to let it all out, built up puke ready to burst over just how vile the aroma was. Smelling the bottoms of my feet or my own armpits after a volleyball match would be several times better than what was currently wafting around inside the dude’s vehicle. I told him that I was alright with it and to simply return me to campus. The talkative guy I got on the way to the office was not the same guy on the way back. He was subdued, embarrassed, quiet; he could not believe that his car stunk of funky gas while he was transporting his hottest and richest client yet. He tried his best to keep up with his watering eyes and stuffy nose, that one fart really did a number on him and I could tell that it was quite a beast. The air quality did go down, but slowly, very slowly. By the time we had neared Westwood the car only smelled like a normal person’s fart, strong but bearable. He kept his mouth shut the whole way too, a lot more professional than before. Sometime it just takes a good female fart to shut people up. And the best part was that he convinced that he was the one who had farted, like it just happened and he didn’t even notice. The shock of smelling my fart must have convinced him that it was really me, some sort of mental response in his head that he was actually the one who had farted. I do have that way with people, they will blame my farts on them own selves all the time around me to impress me, I like it a lot. We arrived back at the spot where he had picked me up, now about 10:00 in the morning. He apologized again for the smell. “That’s okay; just warn me the next time, that was very bad, but no harm, thanks again.” I sat there for a moment as I slowly took my seatbelt off, watching him ogle over my body one last time. “Oh….I’m really sorry.” I said with a smile as I closed the door. I looked inside and blew him a kiss as he suddenly began smelling it, another gassy deposit in his seat, I had farted one last time and unfortunately for him, I think it was stronger. He gagged profoundly, even with the windows open as the foulness of my gas was too much for him, chunks of his breakfast few across the passenger side seat. Even I caught a wind of my creation and knew that I had to leave immediately to leave Josh in his gassy hotbox of a car. And there I am walking away in my short shorts and tank top with my big booty bouncy on my tall frame, leaving one last small fart out of my behind as a guy now suffers the consequences of my unfortunate choice of breakfast foods. PART 2 I took a look at my schedule coming up; I had just enough time for a little bit of time at the library, lunch and then my English Lit class. Just another day in the life of a busy gassy girl. I had about 45 minutes to get a little reading and with my apartment probably still smelling like a pig farm I decided for a more quieter venue, the school’s main library. I went up toward the third floor of the building and toward what I believed to be a quiet spot of the library. Friday morning, the library was pretty busy, about norm for that time of day; I walked in with my backpack and pulled out a textbook. It was a short chapter for my English Lit class, something I was supposed to have read for today’s class discussion. I found a nice comfy chair to sit down, putting my feet up on a footrest as I began reading the story. For about ten minutes everything was going well, until I had to cut some cheese. I was sitting there, just trying my best to read my book when the gas bubble came to me. It was dialed up to be another silent fart. I push softly and out it comes of my butt into the seat cushion, nice and hot, a slow spread of gas onto the fabric of the chair. I had thought that the cushions of the chair would be enough to absorb the power of my fart, but I sometimes do not know my own strength, that and I underestimated how much a chair could take. It took about a minute as I tried to read my book before it came up to my face at full strength, oh fuck was it bad. I won’t give any intricate details about the smell, only it was as powerful as the ones I had released in Josh’s car. My eyes teared up as I took my book and positioned it so that it was over my legs. I moved my body around so that my legs were pressed up against each other and I was sitting as stern as possible against the chair. I looked down at my book as I began to take in the rotten egg aroma of my gas, it was continuing to gain strength, smellier and smellier, I could not believe its power, the chair must have taken in much of the gas, but here it was, strong and true. I could hear a few students walking by, getting something from a nearby bookshelf or passing by the area in general, and I could hear the sounds, coughs, half-gags, full gags, even one person who started hacking like he was about to puke. I don’t think it got that bad, but I counted at least seven different reactions from people, who must have felt that someone in that area had released the gas upon their lungs. No one, as usual, suspected it was me, but most didn’t see me sitting either, I was tucked in nicely in a corner, out of the public eye and away from most people, me the richest girl on campus releasing a diabolical silent fart to stink up nearly a quarter of the entire floor. It was about five minutes afterwards when I felt it again, another gas bubble. They just keep coming, at a frightening pace even for my standards, another gas bubble and seeing how immune I was to accusation by others, I pushed out another fart. Probably a little weaker than the last one…. “Shit….” I said in my quietest voice, a whisper only to me as I soon had to recall my words, this one was powerfully pungent. After a few days around her butt and to the exposure of the volcanic-strength gas she was passing, the underwear would look rather worn out. My underwear suddenly had the feeling that it had just gone through the dryer as the temperature of the fabric went up some 15 degrees from the sudden expulsion of silent and deadly air out of my butt. Smelling it again this one carried even more of a punch, it was a smell that could strip the paint off the walls of this library and eat the stitching out of my shorts. The smell of the fart too made that corner of the library reek of rotten eggs, dead vegetables and cheese, all mixed into something that seriously came from hell. But the most horrifying part was that I was feeling more of these farts coming, and with my breakfast I could still feel it forming, but before I had any chance of leaving, he arrived. Down the corridor of bookshelves straight to my location, an old boyfriend of mine, Lenny. He came walking right into the thickest part of my fart, but seeing me sit down gave him a good view. “Hey Becky…” He said before holding his nose in, breathing in the thick fumes of my gaseous stink, he knew immediately what had happened, he had smelled them before. “What’s up?” I asked him, softly, trying to tone down our voices so that they were acceptable for a library. “Not the air quality, that’s for sure…what did you eat Beck?” He asked with a soft voice, but with some sincere concern. “Breakfast.” “Of what…beans and more beans….with a side of beans?” He grabbed the footrest that I was no longer using and sat down next to me. Despite the tone of his voice, it was nice to see him again; he was one of the nicer guys I knew. “Not exactly.” “Thank God for that. So, what’s new with you?” “My parents need me to come home this weekend, and I don’t have an available ride.” “Well that sucks, too bad I’m staying put this weekend.” “Yeah.” “Well, you needn’t worry about it, I’m sure someone is willing to do the job for you. You just have to pay them well.” “If only it were that easy, it’s not paying people that’s the problem, it’s having a good person. I had this driver earlier who just wouldn’t shut up; trying to get me to share the good on some secret movie project I was a part of.” I began telling him as he broke into a short laughter. “I didn’t know you were in a movie?” “I’M NOT!” “I know, I know, just kidding with you Beck. They think you’re Hollywood material and to be completely honest, you are.” He said, trying to be sincerely nice to me. “Don’t remind me.” “Well there are other fish in the sea. For every jerk out there, there’s a nice man waiting who will be willing to do things for you and maybe….big maybe admittedly, will be able to handle all your little quirks.” “What happened between us?” “It would have never worked out, you know that, and no, it wasn’t because of that.” “You’re right. Too many differences, yet here we are talking to each other.” “I still consider you a friend. If things don’t work out and you can’t come home this weekend, maybe stop by my place, for a quiet Friday evening.” “Really?” “Sure. Nothing funny, just an evening of relaxing, taking your mind off all that there is and forgetting the world. We can watch a movie or something, nothing romantic Beck, just friends hanging out.” “That’s great.” I said, nearly ready to tear up over Lenny’s kind offer. As soon as I said that however it leaked out, another fart. It took only a few moments before it reached his nose, he was too close for comfort and it assaulted his face. Tears began to stream from his eyes, watering down his cheeks as he began to take a nice whiff of it, another hot and silent fart from my ass. It oozed from my ass, clinging to the seat and I clutched my legs together, trying not to torment him any further with the foulness. He had just offered himself to spend the evening with me the worst I could do now as gas him out and make him reconsider. The stench of my flatulence gagged him and he began to dry retch in reflex to the foul odor. I felt disgusted by the way my gas was sucking the life out of him. He was taking a big risk sitting there, but he was quick to come up. He stood there and I know he was thinking of something witty, something cute to say about my fart. Instead, he said some of the nicest words I had heard that day. “Good then, I look forward to seeing you.” He said as he quickly ran off. I don’t blame him; it was another vile smelling fart. I lowered my head to my crouch and gagged myself as the aroma. Was it as bad as my previous farts, I couldn’t even tell anymore, they all smelled bad. I sat there in the library for another half an hour as I farted a few more times. My corner of the building wasn’t visited much by anyone else, who knew there was a rotten aroma there, they just didn’t know the origin of that smell. As long as I kept these things silent they wouldn’t know it was me. After I was done with all that, I checked the time and knew that it was time for me to get up and head for an early lunch. It was now after 11:30 and I was feeling a little bit hungry. I swore to myself that I was not going to get anything that could induce my gas, not after the way I’ve been going all morning. But I had to break that promise when I saw it, sitting there in the window at one of the school’s cafeterias, something that looked amazing, yet very dangerous at my condition: black bean egg salad. I had never seen something so delicious in my life, and yet I knew it could carry serious consequences, I felt as if my gas wasn’t even done yet. In this concoction were a dozen hard cooked eggs, black beans, butter beans, avocados, mayonnaise, mustard, lemon zest, lettuce and salt and pepper, all scrambled up into a bowl of multiple colors and in a standard tray. I was originally going to have only one helping along with a glass of milk; I ended up eating four helpings. It was super-delicious, something that was very strange considering it came from a school dining facility. I mean, I could pay for anything I wanted and eat it and yet here it was, this common food item for all the normal students to eat and I was chewing through this stuff as if I were a kid in a candy store. I checked my phone and looked at my schedule as I ate my food, by myself. I got looks for guys who were always eying me for my looks but I’ve become impervious to their advances, I just ignore them. As I got ready to eat my last bowl of the black bean egg salad a couple of teammates came up to me as they had noticed me in the cafeteria. “Hey Becky, you got the message from coach didn’t you?” Audrey, a red-headed fellow player, in her second year of school, approached my table as her and Sandra, a blond player, sat down. “Yeah, no practice today.” I told her, pulling up the email. Friday practices were sometimes cancelled and in today’s case was done so because our coach was feeling ill. It may or may not have had something to do with my gassy outbursts last night. Something Sandra brought up. “You think it had anything to do with you last night?” “It wasn’t that bad.” “Fuck….you kidding….” Sandra continued as Audrey ordered her to lower her voice a bit. Of course my fellow players knew about my gas, it would be hard to miss. I had to recall the events of last night to see if there may have been an actual connection. I was convinced that he just had a cold, but maybe there was something in the gas too. I was farting up a storm during practice, but that happens from time to time. I don’t stink up the court most of the time, I have standards thank you very much, but last night was more brutal than normal. The bad part, I didn’t even eat anything that I would have considered to be gas-producing. But nonetheless, I cut silent fart after silent fart and eventually got the other teammates to vacate the court and leave practice a few minutes short. Coach was feeling a little woozy now that I thought about it, but most of these people were well aware of my gas. “The coach was coughing all day yesterday, maybe he was genuinely sick too.” Audrey added as Sandra nodded her head. “Well, gives us some time to work out this afternoon, you going to be there.” “I’ll think about it, I may have to head out of town this weekend, traffic will probably be a pain in the ass leaving here.” “Why can’t you just go at night?” “Dad wants me home as soon as possible, coming in after midnight and he’ll have to do….something, I don’t know.” “A little workout couldn’t be bad. Besides, Blake will be there….” She said trailing off as my eyes got bright. Blake was an odd specimen, he was a creep first and foremost, but he had the hots for me. He had approached me here and there throughout the past few weeks, really only wanting to fuck me I presume, but this gave me a wonderful idea as the gears started turning in my head. “Okay, I’ll be there, but it will have to wait until after class, I got English Lit this afternoon.” “Gah, you go to class on a Friday afternoon?” “Why not, besides, there’s someone there…someone I like.” “Have you told him?” “I’ve never spoke to him.” “Richest girl on campus and you’re scared of a boy.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah…now if you excuse me I got to finish this…” “Is that…egg salad?” Asked Sandra. “Loaded with beans.” I said with a smile on her face. “That’s one way of taking care of Blake.” Audrey said with another devious smirk of her own, already planting in my head the idea that I myself was just thinking of. It only took Sandra a couple of seconds for her to see it as well. Granted, I was planning nothing as far as I knew, I really just liked seeing this black bean egg salad coming in, I was not planning this at all. But I was already telling that I would immediately regret eating it. I was full, super full, loaded with this stuff it would take hours for me to digest and process as….well, you’ve guessed it. But with the news of Blake being there at the weight room I went toward a shop to get a protein smoothie just to wash down the rest of the food I was digesting. It was now after 1:00 and I had to get heading toward my next class. As I walked into the building I was distraught by the ever-present pain in my gut. Yeah, I knew this was coming but hey it was worth it, the food was good and Blake was going to be smelling it up in the weight room later on. I went into a side hallway away from the bulk of the students, what few there were at that time and found a place to rest, a bench that was located next to some plants. A quiet place to read or to look at your phone while waiting on something, it was located near a few classrooms that were already vacant for the weekend. I sat my ass down on the seat and felt the surge of new gas ready to burst. Looking around, I checked one more time before leaning over to the right and letting er rip. Like the sound of a loud whoopee cushion going off, I dropped a nice solid rotten-egg fart that was incredibly loud and shook the bench I was sitting on with a smell that was slowly increasing in strength. The fart went on for nearly 15 seconds, a long and bubbly release the fart was much louder than I had thought. And the smell, the smell of this fart was out of this world, it carried a strong rotten cheese and eggs component to it. Anyone with their nose right up to my ass would have blacked out from this ginormous fart. It was a great release, something that signaled the prospect of from dreadful flatulence to come out from my ass. As I felt the relief and began to smell the malodorous aroma of my gas I saw another freaking tour group of students, I could hear them anyway, heading toward my position. Why they would show them these classrooms is beyond me but in any case, I had to leave. Getting up a left behind a cloud of putrid fart stink, unknowingly leaving it for several strangers to get a nice whiff and cry themselves over its foulness. Still, it only helped me a little bit. Well, with all that done, it was time for English Lit. Unlike my morning class, this one was actually in a classroom, about 30 desks arranged in rows just like in high school. I located a spot near the back as the class was likely to be filled about halfway, again due to this being Friday. I got in early and checked my phone, as I did this, I saw him walk in, the brown-haired kid with the navy blue shirt on. He looked like your typical student, down to every mundane detail you can think of. I know his name was Mike and for some reason he caught my attention. He seemed nice, we smiled at each other and maybe it was just knowing that this guy was ordinary that made me think of hanging out with people who weren’t wealthy or special, maybe just an average guy was what I needed. In my experience, I can’t really do much with normal guys, but Mike was quite charming. But that thought went away as I started feeling more gurgling in my stomach. On top of all of that, the teacher walked in and started asking about our reading assignment; at least my time in the library was useful for something. As class went on, the stomach, well you can already guess what it was doing. No need rehashing all of that now, in any case, this was a bomb ready to explode, but I held it. Oddly though, that wasn’t the thing that was causing me the most problems though, it was the text message from my mom, I HAD to come home. They were making it mandatory, which was a problem with the whole not-having-a-car thing. They told me that I should just arrange a ride home, yeah they made it sound so easy and when they asked why I had to come home, it was for the stupidest reason ever: my brother’s choir performance. Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to hull my ass over from L.A. all the way back to Laguna just so I can hear that twerp sing? I’ve been to many of these things in the past, why the hell do I have to go to this one. I knew what it was, some kind of image thing, they thought it would look proper if the entire Firestone family, namely my parents and me, were there watching, all dressed up too I bet. This was one of my first good weekends in a long time and I’m going to have to spend it home, which wouldn’t be a problem if didn’t have a fucking car! Ugg…and this gas keeps giving me fits. Don’t get me wrong, I like this class, but my tummy’s doing summersaults right now and I now have even more shit to deal with. But that’s when I looked back in Mike’s direction. Wasn’t he from Orange County too, I thought he was, an idea hit me. My gas was on the verge of leaking, when our teacher ended the class a few minutes early. I had forgotten what the entire thing was, thinking about finding a way home and about this large ball of gas in my stomach, I couldn’t even pay attention. I walked out of the class and went for one more passionate talk with my parents over the issue. I won’t give you the specifics, but they were dead set, they wanted me to come home, end of story. Rich girl and I’m still tethered, I resigned myself with the fact that I had to come home, and that I was going to need a ride. There I saw him in the hallway, as he started walking away I ran up toward him, catching up with Mike, I might as well try this. “Hey Mike!” I tell him as he turns around, man I forgot how tall I am, my tits were almost right in his face. I quickly backed up a couple of inches. “You live down in Orange County, don’t ya?” I asked him as he started smiling a little bit. “Sure. San Juan Capistrano.” He replied. I was delighted to hear that. It was a little further down the road from Laguna Beach. So I swallowed my pride and asked the question. “Cool. I have a favor to ask of you. Are you going home this weekend?” I asked, with some tepid hope that maybe he’d respond. Having me ask him for a ride must have been a dream for him, and he really did seem nice. “Um…um…yeah, I guess I am. I probably wasn’t going to leave until tonight though.” I felt bad about that part, I had to leave as soon as my workout was done, and getting rid of this gas was going to be the top priority up to that point, I really did not want to be stinking up his car! We talked for another couple of minutes, going on about how this was a last minute thing and negotiating for him to offer me a ride home. I told him I’d pay him for it, which I very much was. “Cool! Cool! I’ll give you some gas….” God I have to stop it with these bad choice of words, “…er money for the ride home. Thank you so much!” And in an instant response I hugged, picking him up off the ground, accidently before putting him down on the ground. I’m sure it gave him the thrill of a life, smothered by my chest, I was very happy though. It didn’t take anything at all, he was easy to persuade. He then walked off as I was smiling for a bit. Finding a ride home, this easily, was looking far more daunting to me. Even if I were rich as hell, finding someone who could actually drive me home to my neck of the woods in that small class with roughly 15 students in the classroom was not as easy as it looked. I had hit a home run with this one; thank God he lived in the same area, with my luck he would have lived in the Valley. And there I go again. The hallway had just cleared and I was left alone to push out another fart. This was built up gas so you knew it was even more pungent than some of my past releases. The fart roared out between my buttocks, not of the bubbly variety but more of the dirty and thick smogginess that came from a bellowing fart that soon produced out a noxious odor. My colon was being filled with even more quantities of gas that were all needed release, hopefully a bowel movement would come soon, for once I was hoping on it. My stomach was aching as I felt the gas being forced through my intestines. This fart had made my underwear a tad damp from the incredible amount of stink I had just released. I cannot be letting out stuff like this in Mike’s car, I had to get to the weight room and let it all out there. Poor guys there, I was dropping my smelly and terrible farts as I ran off down the hallway and made my way to the training facilities. I used a locker room to change out of my clothes to my volleyball uniform, which was better to work out in than the jean shorts and tank top I had worn earlier. The UCLA weight room, a professional gym for the school’s best athletes was packed that Friday afternoon. The equipment inside was pretty high tech for a major university, just about everything your student-athlete could use for weightlifting in preparation for a meet. For me today, I was doing just some weights and some squats with maybe a quick turn on the treadmill. Just enough to get my muscles nice and firm for the weekend. As I entered the room though, well my stomach continued to turn on its own and I was beginning to think that being in here was a bad idea. With the warm weather, it was a bit humid inside, but sweaty guys and girls was nothing to take away the regular student athlete. I walked over toward a one of the exercise pads in one corner of the room where I looked around to make sure that there wasn’t anyone else around there. Dressed in my tight volleyball shorts and my uniform I sat my gym bag down and got onto the pad and started doing a round of pushups. Up and down I went, in rather quick order for about 20 sets. And as I did this, well you can already guess what was happening. And out it came, snaking upwards from my ass as I went up and down, the area around me, as far as I knew was cleared but this stuff coming out of me, I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. It was putrid, horrible beyond everything known to these students, that black bean egg salad and protein shake was going to make this stuff fetid as hell. Of course, students let er rip all the time inside the weight room; it smells like fart and sweat half the time anyway. Girls are trying their best to spray some kind of stuff around to make things smell better for themselves, but they are adding just as much to the foul aroma as the men are, you are far more willing to cut the left and right. After finishing my pushups I got up off the mat and my noise crinkled up immediately upon inspection of the aroma. Despite the small size, relatively speaking, the stink was as vile as the one I had released this morning that cleared out my apartment. It was practically at the quality of that of a skunk, an actual skunk, a funky mist of decaying vegetables and eggs merged to form a single fog of utter putridness hovering around me. And to make matters even worse, I heard him. “Hey babe.” It was Blake. Standing behind me, probably getting a nice view of my tight rear end. He was a hunk alright, but an annoying one. Still, I played it off and turned around to greet him. “Hey.” “I must say you are look mighty fine today, pushups eh? How many you do?” “Only 20.” “Pfff….20! That’s it; you can do better than that.” “How many can you do?” “More than that.” “Prove it.” And an idea suddenly occurred to me, I stepped away leaving him the same padded area where I had just done my pushups….and farted. Still, Blake was not one to remove himself from a challenge. He got himself on the pad and started doing his pushups, over and over again; he was like a machine, for about the first 15 sets. Then he slowed down, it took him some time but the smell finally got to him. It wasn’t like the fart wasn’t gone or anything, but he was pumped up with so much adrenaline that it wasn’t until he reached pushup number 15 that he finally noticed, the rotten odor of my fart, wafting over him. He was so overcome by it that he fell flat onto the pad and stayed there for a few seconds, while I “asked” him if something was wrong. “Yeah, it fucking stinks here….I’m sorry Becky, I had no idea.” “Guys do it.” “Yeah, but usually I feel it come out, it just came out by surprise, damn that’s foul, I’m terribly sorry.” “It’s alright; I thought you were going to show me something….” “Huh? Oh right….” He trailed off as he got into position; he was already to do another pushup when he got the second wave of the stink. He got off, gagging a little now as the smell of my fart was hanging strong, proud and stinky, a wafting concoction of stink too great for even him to handle. His head was in a phase as I looked at him with a neutral smirk on my face. He looked almost as if he were going to throw up. “I think I need to check my pants, I’ll get back to ya…” He said as I quickly threw myself back down onto the pad where he had been doing his pushups and did another ten consecutively in a row to his amazement. I told him that the smell wasn’t as bad as he was suggesting. He shook his head and figured I was just being nice to him, showing him that I was not offended by his farts. For the record, I had smelled his farts before; he couldn’t really compete with me on my weakest day honestly. Hell my roommate Gloria has had stronger farts that what would come out of his ass. Macho or not, farting was not something he did particularly well….unlike me. Even quieter and even deadlier I laid on my stomach as I finished the tenth pushup. Looking at him as he walked away I had my head rested on my arms as I smiled, pushing out a ten-second long outburst of something vile from my ass. Relieved too that he had walked away and I had the space to myself once more, I breathed in the potent musky smell of my fart. My shorts were soaked already in sweat and not helping was the extra heat from these last two silent farts. These burned their way out of my asscrack, in a way that I felt like my own personal heater. Lying there for the moment, I felt a gust of smelly air wash over me. The skunky smell from inside my ass was producing a noxious aroma that was, believe it or not, even richer in its foulness than my previous blasts earlier in the day. I had to get up off the mat as I was getting a little bit too close to comfort for passing out with the smell. “Perhaps I should do something else.” I said to myself as I looked over at the treadmills. The weight room, which was very large I might add, bigger than the size of most gyms you’d find on the street, was spacious enough that I had only stunk up the area. Grabbing my bag I vacated the scene of the crime, no one else was using it for the moment but I knew that’d change. I was hoping someone would see Blake walk right back there at the right time and accuse him of doing the crime. The further I got away from the area and the more the smells of everyone else got in the way, masking my own foul gas with the smell of sweat from a couple dozen people. I arrived at the treadmills to find that all but one were in use. Getting my iPhone out I went for another soundtrack as I began getting myself set up for a quick run. I set the controls to medium as I turned the only treadmill on, located right smack in the middle of a group of ten treadmills. I work out for about ten minutes or so, running as I watch a television screen up ahead, just showing the highlights of some games on ESPN from last night. My running is about ordinary for what I’m doing, I’m owning this treadmill as I train on it some more. Meanwhile, my stomach is focusing on the production of even more gas. I don’t think there is much harm in letting a little bit of it out as I continued running, so I open up my valves and release a small stream of gas out from my running. It takes another full minute for the brunt of the smell to reach my nostrils, it’s bad. A mad mix of eggs and sweat are floating through my nostrils as I take a quick drink from my water bottle. The person to my right gets a look on her face as she becomes a little overwhelmed from the stink of the fart and she soon starts coughing before turning the treadmill off. The person to my left, they just lose it and fall off the treadmill, only a second-long fall but enough for them to be thrown off by the pungency of the fart. I don’t even think it was even that bad, but the effect continues. Only they leave as the rest of the treadmill runners continue doing their thing. PPPPPPPhhhhhhhssssssssssss!!!! SSSSSSShhssssssssssssssss!!!! Ooohh, and there goes three more farts. The first fart was a test fart and seeing that everyone else was still running I thought that pushing out another three farts would have been enough to get me what I wanted, a bit more relief. Unfortunately, the gas was far more stinker than I expected too. The movement of my legs as my buttocks twerked back and forth with the moving of the treadmill allowed for a long stream of gassy air to blow between my crack and out my shorts. And this stuff coming out, breathtaking in a literal sense. Smelling it was similar to being in a landfill, an actual dump, smelling garbage and hot rotten eggs molting in the sun. Once I began smelling the effects of the first fart I knew that I was getting a little bit too much, this was the kind of fart that I would normally just release in a toilet so that no one else could smell, but here, it just expanded with the hot and sweaty air and formed a impregnable mass of ass gas that surrounded the rest of the area. With the next two smaller farts, the rest of the occupants of the treadmills took notice of the smell and got off their treadmills. Only three more minutes and I was the only one running along the treadmills. The timer finally ran out and my ten minutes were over. I grabbed my towel and looked back behind me; there wasn’t a soul in sight, at least around that area. The air was musky, filled with nothing but raw eggs and shit, a nice silent fart, but even I had had enough. I faked a disgust at the odor and went toward another part of the weight room. It was time for some squats. I grabbed some dumbbells and got myself into position on another set of exercise mats, again not particularly close to anyone. The number of people in the weight room had slowly gone down, probably as a result of my musky gas floating around the room. I took the dumbbells and stood up as I slowly lowered my body toward the mat, bending my knees and my waist as a part of the exercise. I did ten of these, one after another; I slowly bent down, doing long, drawn out squats with the dumbbells in my hands giving me extra weight onto my thighs. You could see the lean, jagged edges of my quadriceps jump out in sexy bold relief against my skin. My shorts would strain out to a very taunt position as my legs were rock hard, firm with the power of the weight on me. My ass hung out there, about a foot off the ground as it lobbed out there ready to get trained. After a few seconds down there I’d go back up and use my leg muscles to propel my body back upwards to end up fully erect in height. Not that I was the only one erect here, Blake was back as well. He watched from behind as I did a few more of these squats, one after another, my body sweating as I was adding on more and more muscle to my body. I had to remain fit to be the best volleyball player. “You mind if I do some of my own exercises here?” Blake asked as he “startled” me from behind. I told him he could go ahead; it wasn’t my weight room after all. But there was a more alterative motive behind what he was doing. By exercises what he meant was doing some crunches. There was reason he chose that particular kind of exercise, it got him on his back and where he was doing this was also important. He was doing not too far from where my ass was coming down as I did my crunches. Yep, this fuck was lying on his back on the mat so that he could get a nice view of my ass as I continued my squats. I did another seven one after another and I could notice that he wasn’t trying real hard to do his crunches, a few token ones where and there, but he was there mainly for the show. That’s when my stomach began protesting much more, a devious idea came to my mind and I decided that I was going to give him a show after all. I “move” my body a little bit closer to him and do a couple of more squats. He seems to have noticed and is trying is best to conceal the fact that he’s liking this. The gases swirl around in my stomach, the exercising is doing its toll on my bowels and I feel a nice big one about ready to blow. I move again with another two squats, moving backwards, I make it seem like I’m just moving out of habit but he’s in no mood to leave, he’s enjoying this, it’s what he wanted to do, get a nice good look at my rear end. People are noticing too, a couple of girls from my team were walking by when they noticed this, here I was just exercising and Blake was being a creep, but his time was about to come. I move backwards a bit more, even he’s about ready to get up as he notices that he is finally in my way, but the time for movement is too late, I lower my ass and suddenly find his face right beneath it. He must have died and gone to heaven as he looked up and saw the spandex of my two buttocks descend on his face. The whole thing was probably viewed to him as an “accident.” Except for the fart part, that was totally intentional. Jackpot! I begin to fart and this one….this one was a pure and utter gut bomb of sound, power and stink. As I pressed my ass down toward the ground I wasn’t sitting on the guy’s face, but I was a few inches away from it and I’m sure he regretted it as soon as I dropped the bomb. The fart rumbled out of my ass, produced quite a bit of sound, I’m sure most in the weight room were now hearing it. In this case, I was perfectly fine with everyone hearing this one. This thing was gaining strength as it continued erupting out of my ass. As for what it felt like for Blake underneath, I’ve never been at the receiving end of my ass’s farts, due to a lack of flexibility on my part, but from what I’ve heard from other boyfriends, it’s not a pleasant sight. They described it as being blinded by hot airy winds of utter stink. Like they were having a fire blow up in their faces, tears roaring down their cheeks as they hear the nastiest thing come out of the hottest piece of ass they’ve seen. Put your head in an oven and watch as that oven explodes around you, it’s like that but without the scattered pieces of metal that a destroyed oven would incur. As for how Blake was actually feeling, well I can’t tell you that. Only that I was holding my form down there, bent over with my ass over his face as I felt the fart erupt its way out of my ass with a relief of pressure that was unparalleled to anything I’ve done previously that day. This was a textbook definition of one of those muscular farts I talked about earlier and I was wailing it all out on Blake. Oh my God this thing was coming out even stronger and even longer. The thing that surprised me most about this fart was its length; it was a fucking long and extended release of my gassy air and right onto his face. While it was poetic justice to see that little pervert be on the receiving end of what this juicy rear end of mine can do, I was hoping for only a small poot. Even that would have been embarrassing. But no, this one just had to be a monstrous release. The fart continued as I looked over at a few of my friends who were looking at me as if they had just witnessed someone get killed. The look on my face though, I was quite happy with this one. There was something about this feeling, Blake was a looker, he had seen me in this room one too many times and always ogled over my body, and that of the other girls in the room. We knew he was this creep, interested in sports only because of the other girls who played. Well he was now getting more than he could probably handle out of this sporty ass of mine. I was strong and I was gassy and he now understood that. His body never moved, he was locked in a hypnotic and likely comatose state there as he looked up at Becky Firestone’s ass and imagined what kind of punishment this was, the gas that erupted out of this fine piece of ass. This poot was growling, howling at its victim as I continued to onslaught of powerful butt wind on his face. This was one moment where I was showcasing what a rich girl’s body could do. But unlike most rich girls who flaunt their wealth, I was flaunting my gas, showcasing to everyone just what the right kind of diet could do to a powerful woman, releasing her toxic winds on someone’s face and branding them as theirs’s. I was farting on his face and no one could stop me. Which meant that no one could avoid the smell that was coming out of this fart. On top of all the power with the sound and the length of this overextended release of flatus, there was the raunchy aroma coming out too. This one was beyond stinking, it if were silent the fart probably could have killed everyone in that weight room, but here, it was merely a tick or two above death, I think. Blake’s head was shaking from the thunderous fury of the fart and his nostrils being assaulted with a fiery stench that smelled to a never-ending scent of raw shit, eggs and garbage. Even I, and my friends, were being assaulted by the toxic stench emitting out of my ass, I was clearing out the weight room and then some. Except this was a very real power, a heated fart that burned his face and merged my fart particles with those on his face, he was being coated in the residue of my fart. He moaned and complained, but he knew that any false movement and I would lower my ass even lower and trap him there to endure the rest; at least there was a minuscular chance that some of the air coming to his nostrils would not have been tainted by my own brand of nastiness. But then the smell increased and with it was a puke-inducing fouler than anything that even I have smelled. Nothing could prepare him for the smell, the smell of a landfill that contained nothing but eggs being allowed to heat up in the hot sun. In many ways, it was like smelling the sun, or at least a sun that consisted of nothing but sulfur. But if he thought that he had it rough, I was getting sick too of my own strong fart smell, but this was what that black bean egg salad was doing to me, giving me a stinky kind of wind that would bring nations to their knees at first whiff. The fart finally wrapped up, maybe a minute or so after release, I wasn’t sure on that part, only that it was way too fucking long. And way to smell, Blake was out cold, eyes closed on the mat as I finally raised my body back up to its full position. I placed the dumbbells on a rack nearby, looked over at my friends and other observers as they looked at me in horror. “I’m sorry.” I said as I fanned the vicious ass vapors from my ass. The room smelled incredible, filled with the absolute worse, the most dreadful, most pungent fart perhaps in its history. The air around the entire facility was reeking of what had just come out of my ass. Beyond a rich and attractive girl, I could take the hit in popularity. I was letting people know that I had a weapon and that I wasn’t afraid to use it, if anything it gave me more confidence heading forwards. Which was good, because people needed confidence just to leave the weight room without throwing up. Several had already gone off to the bathrooms to prove how weak they were in that account. Christ, it was only one of my big farts….but boy how bad was it? It smelled like dead animals decomposing in her ass on top of a whole bunch of rotten eggs and garbage. There was an awful lot of hydrogen sulfide bound within the blinding winds of the rotten gas that I had been releasing. The smell wafted itself around the room as I grabbed my belongings and headed outside, some of my fellow teammates left with me as the guys were still hovering over Blake’s knocked-out body, wondering if they should touch it or not. He was alive, but he would regret for the rest of his life the time he got a little bit too close to my beautiful tush. What I found out though, after leaving the locker room was that I was due for a trip to the bathroom myself. I made sure that the toilet was in a fairly secluded part of the facility so that I wouldn’t disturb anyone. After making sure the entire room was cleared I sat down and began dumping into the toilet. There were a couple of deep and wet pre-poop farts into the toilet before I began with the release of mostly liquid poop out of my butt. This first release, much to my embarrassment, was accompanied by a loud fart that nearly shook the toilet itself, much to my surprise. The smell rushing upwards from the bowl was something fierce too, nasty and shitty, the aftermath of some rather potent gas. While on the john I pulled out my phone and checked the time, I still had some time before I had to meet up with Mike and so my bottom remained glued to the seat. There'd be five minute intervals where I thought everything had gotten out, periods where I was only able to fart. They all ended in further torrents of liquid poop. Solid logs of crap were mixed in between too, this was more of a burning liquid kind of dump though, and I would have been so embarrassed if this was what would come out of my butt as Blake laid there beneath it. The smell was unreal and the farts seemed to get louder the longer I sat. My cheeks, that is, the ones on my face, were burning and there were tears in my eyes from the putridness attacking my face, that and the sweat, this was a long lasting dump. There would be a minute or two of nothing, then another onslaught but I really wanted to get this shit out of my system before I’d have to share the car with a complete stranger, so taking my time was of the essence. It was more of the watery shit for the duration of the crap, again, some logs but this wasn’t one of my heftier loads, which was a shame since the gas I was pushing out was kind of epic by itself. I likely spent over half an hour on the john releasing my shit and farting up a storm, oh yeah I was farting a lot here which probably lead to the near fatal level of stink in the bathroom. At long last, I whipped my ass and stood up. Inside the toilet bowl was a murky looking soup, all brown with bits of green inside, all mushed up with small balls of crap floating around. It was a horrendous looking scene and even worse coming out of my own tush. One quick push of the handle and that problem becomes someone else’s. I pulled up my shorts and washed my hands. I checked my phone and saw that I was already 4:20 and I told Mike I’d meet him outside Pauley Pavilion five minutes ago, so I made a quick dash of it. Thankfully I had planned ahead and brought my essentials with me in my backpack as I left the smoldering gas in the bathroom and ran out of the building and down the series of walkways that directed me to my rendezvous point. As I ran, I was wondering how this trip would go. Driving to Orange County on a Friday afternoon was going to be a madhouse. I somehow liked Mike, or the ordinariness I saw from him, but would we even talk. He’d probably think that I was a little too high maintenance for him. Still, he did offer to take me, so I had to be thankful for his help in the first place and hope that the whole thing went well. My run soon became a jog and finally a short walk as I was nearly the rendezvous. There I saw him, no not Mike, damn parking services guy. He was walking toward the dark blue four-door car, which I assume was Mike. I felt bad as my dump had kept Mike waiting a few more minutes, the parking services people here were super strict on the parking, but I had it all worked out. I addressed him about him writing up that car for a parking citation, stating that they were simply waiting for me. The officer wouldn’t hear it; the car was illegally parked in a fire lane. Like there was any fire going on at that time. I walked a little faster so that I could intercept him, the parking services guy was shorter than even I had though, I had to back away a slight so that I could see him beneath my breasts. With all that had happened I was still wearing my outfit, oh well, at least it was something for Mike to look at. “I said you don’t want to write that guy up.” “Out of my way ma’am, you can’t be parked there…..” The guy began speaking, only to be cut off; the smell was greater than anything he was expecting. Oh baby yes, a silent but deadly fart that was demonic had quickly caught his attention. Pre-poop farts are considered to be quite vile, as Blake can attest too, but post-poop farts shouldn’t be this bad, but here it was. The fart came at him with full force and power and in only a couple of seconds after my sphincter had opened, he smelled more fart gas than he probably had ever experienced. The strong, hot winds that blew from my ass were so intense that my face had become a bit red from the embarrassment, and then the smell. Like raw eggs, beans, spices and spoiled milk, multiplied a hundred times over, which was about as much as he could get out of this silent the monster of a fart. Still, he knew that it was too much for him to take, it was a sheer force of hot egginess that now filled up the space we were in. The official had to be thanking God that we were outside, as an enclosed space would have likely knocked him out by smelling this fart. Gagging, he spoke again. “I…I….I think I better be going.” He said, stuttering a little bit as the smell of my nasty SBD continued to make his eyes water. A couple of more coughs and he walked the opposite way away from Mike’s car. It was the least I could do for Mike since he was waiting for me patiently. Then my stomach gurgled again, a three-second long gurgling that made me a bit worried now. I looked over at Mike’s car with a half-smile on my face. Still smelling the ghastly aroma of my silent fart I had one thought in my head. “I hope your windows work.” |
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