Do You Smell That?
by Voidmasterdom

The silent, fetid air crept in towards her target. She had timed the SBD just right, letting go of the silent cloud as she bent over her bag, her butt, clad in leggings and a formal, bright dress, pressed out towards her younger co-worker, who worked alongside her in a tiny closet of an office. She had dropped her bag on the floor to hide the wisp of the SBD, in case he heard it. She wanted it to take him by surprise, to make sure he breathed it in naturally as if it was purest of alpine air.

She tried to hide her laughter as she saw from the corner of her eye the slow, subtle changes in his grimace. He took a small sniff of the air and his face wrinkled into an ugly grimace of disgust. She could smell it too, as it was quite potent, lingering like a thick smog in the air. She sniggered quietly, as he looked around him for a while, before he turned to her.

“Do you smell that?” He asked, shaking his head.

“Smell what?” She responded, her voice calm despite the growing excitement.

“It smells like something rotten, like rotten cheese.”

“Oh”, she held back a giggle, but smiled at him humorously, “that's probably me. I just trumped”.

“O-Oh”, he stammered, letting out a short, fake laugh, “that explains the bad smell, I guess.”

“Yeah, I mean, it is a trump. I've got bad wind today, I'll be farting a lot. Is that a problem?” she stared at him somewhat hostility, surprised that she could even maintain such a look under the hilarity of what she had just said. He couldn't meet her gaze and just looked towards the floor.

“No, not at all”, he murmured, clearly uncomfortable with the smell in the room. He tried to concentrate on his work, not to bring attention to his discomfort. Alicia slowly released a relieved exhale as she quickly realised her fantasy was closer to reality than it ever had before.

His face was somewhat red, and as the fart was purely his problem now, having wafted from her towards him, she couldn't exactly blame him. It was very smelly, after all, but it wouldn't be the last of her smells he would have to deal with.

“You'll soon find out that I fart a lot”, Alicia teased, giggling as she rubbed her belly, “I'm not going to hold back, so you'll have to put up with it. That's not a problem, is it?” She stared at him the same way as before, finding his intimidation easier than she could possibly have imagined.

“No”, he eventually said, gulping, “I mean, I guess you shouldn't have to hold back if it gives you stomach ache”.

“Exactly”, Alicia shifted her bottom on her sheet as she yawned, “I'd rather let them out here than in the toilet. Only you can hear and smell them in here, in the toilet anybody can hear you fart, and that would be very embarrassing. I really wish this office had a personal toilet so I could take a shit in peace.”

“Oh, I see”, he said, itching the back as his neck as he mindlessly tapped away at his keyboard, thinking of a normal thing to say despite the abnormality of the situation, “be careful through, I have a sensitive nose”, he half joked.

She laughed at the sheer desperation in his voice as he forced himself to hide what he really felt, “well, if you have a sensitive nose, I feel bad for you. I don't think you'll like working near me. Still, nothing you can do about it, these offices are permanent. It's just bad luck you ended up with such a gassy person”, she chuckled. She felt more confident in establishing her control over him.

“I guess”, he looked to the floor, obviously thinking about his abruptly desperate position.

Alicia could tell that the smell of her trump still lingered around him, because his nose often wrinkled in reaction to a thin haze of fart fume entering his nostrils and invading his lungs.

“What does my fart smell like?” She asked after a moment of silence. He shook his head, somewhat in disbelief, before facing her. His face was already red, but appeared to redden as he realized that she asked the question without irony. He looked lost for words, muttering something under his breath. This was what she was doing, pushing his boundaries, pushing his discomfort, constantly placing her own wants over his. This is what she got off on, making him deeply uncomfortable, not only with her smells, but with discussion of them.

“I'm not sure I know-”

She rolled her eyes and released a loud, mocking sigh, before itching her armpit and looking at him, this time with impatient hostility on her face, “it isn't an hard question, what does my fart smell like?”

“I don't know”, he stammered pathetically, “it smells like fart, I guess. It's quite strong.”

“Yeah, but what kind of smell? What kind of food does it smell like?”, she wiggled her ass on her chair impatiently. God, he was so easy to fuck with. She practically owned him already.

“Like cheese, I guess”, he said, looking at her, “rotten cheese”.

She giggled, but said nothing else.

Soon, as her soon-to-be bitch boy was getting on with his work, she begun to take out from under her desk a black shoe. It was a long trainer that was clad with dried dirt. She could smell a strong, vinegary smell of foot sweat emanating from deep inside it. She wasn't surprised, after all she did walk to work every day in them, but still the smell was worse than she remembered, being thick with pungent BO.

Looking over at her colleague, she noticed that he still looked perturbed from how brazen she had been with her fart. She was taking things quickly, but he seemed so incapable of standing up for himself that she doubt he would do anything if she was to spit directly into his face whilst she kicked him in the balls. Clearly it was time to test the waters a little more.

“My feet also stink”, she looked over at him, screwing her face up with mock disgust as she placed her shoe onto the desk, looking into it.

“Oh”, he mumbled, refusing to look at her but stopping what it was doing, “how bad?”

What a perfect question to ask, she thought as she grinned.

“I'll show you”, she said, quickly pushing away the chair, before she approached him, shoe in hand. He turned quickly but said and did nothing in protest as she tapped the shoe, thick with the smell of her stinky feet, and stopped in front of him.

“No, it's oka-”

“No it's not okay”, she looked at him with a stern grimace, “I want you to smell it, to experience it in person.”

He said nothing as she quickly pressed the shoe under his nose, and as the smell hit him, he turned his head to one side and unleashed an involuntary gag. He shuddered, and released another gag, the shoe still in smelling range as Alicia giggled incessantly.

“They stink”, he said, shaking his with his eyes clamped shut. Alicia giggled as she waved the shoe under his nose again. This time, she left it under there, and he barely moved at first, partially out of fear of reprisal, but also out of general meekness. Soon, however, the smell was clearly getting to him, and he moved his head and gasped.

"You just smelled my shoe, that's hilarious", she smiled.

Then, as she stood there, a fart suddenly escaped, a small audible toot which sounded loud in the sudden silence of the room. It was partially an accident, but as she gasped, a welcome one. She wasn't embarrassed, only pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt to fart by him.

“Gross”, she said, still laughing, “I'll leave that one with you.”

“Thanks, Alicia”, he said in disgust, shaking his head a little before his eyes widened. The smell had hit him. It wasn't particularly bad, but having the smell of somebody else's fart invade your space so openly had certain emotional connotations that only enraged his reaction to it.

In an attempt to avoid appearing rude, and to act nonchalantly, he attempted to return to his work, but Alicia was pleased to see how red his face after she farted next to him. It did smell a little, she could detect the excess fumes from where she was, and that made her feel great. Soon, all of Alicia's smells would be his problem, so this would good practice, she told herself, giggling silently into her hand.

“I'm going to be trumping all day”, Alicia finally spoke after the lingering fart had moulded into the air, becoming stale, “just thought I'd let you know. This room is going to smell like my trumps.”

He sighed but said nothing, other than a quick mumble which came out as a whisper.

“What was that?”

“Nothing”, he looked at the floor, half in shame, half in embarrassment. He clearly did not like confrontation. It was time to exploit this.

“No, go on, tell me what you said. Do you have a problem with me farting?”

“No”, he shook his head, his eyes widening, “I guess I'll just have to get used to the smell, or get an air freshener.”

Alicia shook her head, “No, we won't be having air fresheners in here, they hurt my nose. You're not a child, you can put up with some bad smells for a few hours a day, can't you?”

“Yeah, I'm not complaining”, he looked up at the ceiling as he messed with his hands, “it just smells a little, that's all”.

Alicia rolled her eyes. Clearly, he needed to learn his place, “well, what do you expect? I did just fart. Farts smell”, she slapped the table and sighed, “that one was pretty mild, anyway, so stop complaining.”

“I'm not”, he whined, but said no more. Clearly, he didn't have the confidence to question her. She could smell his weakness as much as he could smell her fart, and it's why she had decided to accelerate his transformation. His unwillingness to stand up for himself was just the catalyst that allowed her to place her smells in his presence.

Alicia had thought about this for a while. Since he had started all those years ago, the quiet scrawny guy who lurched in the corner, she imagined making him bathe in her smells, imagined his face near the smellier parts of her body. It was his anxious reluctance, mixed with his cowardice, that made the fantasy so potent. She had done little to fuel this fantasy directly, other than brushing past him a few times, rubbing her perky arse against his leg as she bent down to pick something up. Subtle gestures that foreshadowed a fantasy conclusion of his subservience to the smell of her gas, a conclusion that Alicia was now, for the first time, trying to make reality.

Whenever she let rip, she imagined him there, forced to smell it. Whenever she belched or noticed the rank smell of her feet, she imagined him there, his nose pressed in on the smell as he had no choice to draw it into his lungs. It was sick, she knew it, but the longer she thought about it, the moor she had engaged in his imagined humiliation, the more she realized how much she wanted to transform his nose and lungs into processing systems for her bad smells, particularly her rank farts. She used to feel ashamed of these feelings, feelings she had held for other men before, albeit in a much less focused fashion, but now that she was actually working towards his transformation, she felt nothing but elation at the prospect of him suffering through her smells.

Still, she thought, small steps. She didn't want to take it too far too quickly. So, for the next few days, she sat in that room with him, occasionally letting out an hot SBD or a ghastly ripple, much to her colleagues discomfort.

The next day, she had left him a little “gift” at his desk when he went to go pee. She had quickly skipped over, pressed out her bottom, and let out a long, hot SBD which formed a thick cloud of cheesy smell around his chair. She made sure to position her bottom slightly below where his face was, so that the methane would rise slightly and linger around the area of his nose. She wasn't particularly worried about the smell wilting away before he came back, her smells were known to last.

She took a quick whiff of the thick Stilton stink, shook her head in disgust, and rushed back to her desk. She wanted to leave the smell as a surprise, for him to sit down into her expunged gut smog without realizing what was going to hit him.

The plan worked perfectly. He came in, sighed, and before he knew it he plunged himself onto the chair, where her thick cloud of ass stink was awaiting him. It took him a mere second or two to notice the smell, and soon his eyes widened as the coil of my cheesy rip was invading his lungs.

“Oh my god”, he said, wafting the air as she begun to laugh, “did you fart near my desk?”

After she finished chuckling incessantly, her face as red as his, she pulled back a long strand of hair behind her ears and smiled towards him, “that was a bad one, huh? Good job I let it rip near your desk, isn't it? I don't want to smell that at my side of the office.”

He sighed and sat down, clearly unhappy by the new scent of his breathing space.

“Does it smell?” she asked, grinning.

“Yes, it smells of fart”, he shakes his head, his face reddening again. She burst into giggles once more as he attempted to ignore her, clearly unhappy with her behaviour towards him as she mocked him with her laughter. She shook myself from the throws of her chuckles before she sighed and leaned over towards her computer, staring at him as he attempted to work through the smell.

“You can expect to deal with more of them in the future.”

He bit his lip and lowered his gaze to the floor but said nothing. He needed to learn not to ignore her.

“I said”, she raised herself, “you can't expect to deal with more of my farts in the future. Do you understand?”.

His face become swollen with embarrassment as he sunk in his chair and inhaled through his mouth, “yes, I understood.”

“Good”, she sniffed, straightening her posture, “I'm going to get some lunch.”

* * * * *

She stocked her gut up, ready for this afternoon. She sat on the plastic cafeteria seat, consuming her huge plate of cauliflower cheese with Stilton sauce. She could already feel her bowels bloat as her body began to digest the meal. This is the circle of gas now: She ate something that made her gassy, her body processed it, and she released it in the breathing space of her colleague. She only needed to expand upon that last step to expand upon his new role beneath her.

It didn't take long for her to need to loosen some wind from her gut. She did so in the lift, thankful that none of her more respectable colleagues came in with her, for if they did they would've been blasted with the scent of her half-digested cheese fart. A lady came in at once and looked disgusted as her nose wrinkled in the air.

“Do you smell that?” She asked in a rough, harsh voice.

“Yeah, it's awful”, She hid a smile, “must've been that woman who got out on floor 6.”

She said nothing but screwed her face up as she looked at Alicia. Alicia thought that she knew it was her who had made that smell, but either way, she was too polite to say anything else and rushed out of the lift when the doors opened. If her gas really was that bad today, her colleague was going to be in for a rough afternoon. That thought conveniently allayed through her mind as a rush of bloated wind began to expand inside of her belly.

She walked into the room casually, trying not to widen her stride too much as to allow the built up gas inside her to sneak out and ruin the moment. After shutting the door carefully, she slowly took off her coat and placed it on the hook. As she did, she subtly shifted over to where her colleague was sat, typing away, clearly busy enough with some work or another to not notice Alicia's position. With her thin skirt pressing against her outstretched bottom, she took a few steps towards him, aiming her lethal weapon at it's intended target.

He noticed too late, Alicia's dreaded ass already close enough to do some damage. She took one step backwards, almost grinding her ass onto him, and aimed her bottom directly at his face. She released pressure on her insides by letting out a long, thick, deep fart which rattled against his face. He soon shot back as the hot air blew back his fringe comically. Coughing and gagging, he rolled backwards, his face purple as he almost choked to death on Alicia's rank cheese fart.

Alicia, of course, was laughing incessantly. Not only was it funny driving him to such a reaction, but she had drawn him so close to where she wanted him to be, and had forced him to endure her personal smell. She was laughing from the combined hilarity and joy of the situation, and when she began to relax, she was still red in the face.

“That was nasty ”, he said in an hoarse voice, exasperated, “that was right on my face.”

“Guess what I had for dinner”, she gleamed at him, still slightly bent down from her reliving fart just a moment ago.

“I don't know”, he sighed, holding his mouth with his hand, “do I have to guess?”

“Hang on”, she held out her finger and, with her ass still close to him, let out three small airy toots, “that's better. Now guess.”

“Beans”, he said, shaking his head as her newest air wafted his way.

“No way”, she said, standing up straight, “lots of food gives people wind, not just beans. Although I might have some for tea tonight. Guess again.”

“I don't know”, he said dejectedly. Clearly she needed to engage his enthusiasm.

“Really? I guess I didn't give you a good enough sample.”

“Wait”, he said, in a near panic, “I'll guess.”

She crossed her arms and waited as he looked at the floor in defeated complementation. As she waited, she recalled how amazing it was to make him smell her trump. She was right, his face was where the smell of her wind belonged. When she had cut that one in his face, she felt so sure that she was disposing of her unfortunate scent into it's right place. Making him guess the smell was just further clarification that he should be endowed with the scent of her trumps as often as possible.

“Something cheesy”. His eyes turned to slits and he barred his teeth as he awaited her confirmation with an anxious expression.

“Close enough”, she said, “It was cauliflower cheese, one of my favourite meals. You might smell a lot of cheesy farts when you work across from me, they come with the meals I eat. I mean, is it really cheesy?”

“Yes”, he looked down at his keyboard, “it's a very strong smell”.

“I know, I mean, my farts are always pretty smelly”, she paused to let one go, a soft whisper that warmed her ass and the space between her ass and his nose, “I mean, take that one for example. It was quite small and quiet, but it stinks.”

As she said this the smell hit him and he rolled further back in his chair. She causally walked closer, and as she did he backed himself into the corner. She chuckled a little as she wafted the fart imbued air into the corner he was trapped in.

“We should call this the stink corner, huh? You're the fart sponge that lives on stink corner.”

He said nothing, but a quick, high pitched whine came from him. He was so pathetic that he couldn't even protest against his colleague boxing him in with her gas. She felt great, knowing that she had him exactly where she wanted him.

She let out a third fart, one much louder than the one before, the air around her arse quickly heating as the smell baked in the closed atmosphere of the room. As she did with the previous ones, she wafted this towards him.

“Take a whiff”, she demanded, smiling as she gave him a quick wink. She felt so aroused by his attempts to back away from the smell that she couldn't help but become desperate in her actions. She really wanted him to truly bake in her smell. No, she needed him to. She had made some good progress with him, and now it was time to take things to the next level.

“Come on, take a whiff of my bum. Just one deep sniff”.

His face twisted up in disgust, “I can't”.

She turned around and lowered herself a little, so that her butt was a little closer.

“Just take a small whiff of my ass. Put your nose near it and smell. Near the crack.”

“Please”, he said, he voice a pathetic whimper, “I'll be sick.”

“No, you won't, stop being a baby and smell my butt.”

There was a period of silence as his breathing quickened. For a while, she was disappointed, thinking that he was going to finally defend himself, and that she had miscalculated his pathetic submission to her, but soon he swallowed loudly and she felt him stir in his chair.

“Fine”, he said tearfully, “I'll sniff it.”

“Good boy”, she said, trying to hide the pure elation in her voice as he slowly drew his face towards her ass. She had promised him just one sniff, so maybe it was time to make this “one sniff” really count. All it required was good timing.

As she felt his wrinkled nose breath in the scent of her stale ass, his inhalation reaching it's peak suction, she let out a brewed up blast which was vacuumed directly up into his nose. Instantly, he shot back, choking and spluttering, clutching his nose as his face appeared red.

She wanted to mock him, to rub in her domination of him, but she couldn't stop chuckling. It was not just from the hilarity of the situation, but also from the joy that rocked through her. She had finally gotten him to take a full sniff of a fresh fart, and his reaction was completely priceless.

“Oh my god”, she finally said through bated laughter, “you really just sniffed my trump directly. I bet it stunk.”

“Why would you do that?” He whimpered, his eyes watering. She wasn't entirely sure if it was from the humiliation, the stink, or both. Still, his wretched appearance filled her with an elation that she hadn't felt in such a long time, not even during the drug fuelled party days of university.

“Because I wanted to”, she winked at him, returning to her desk, “stop being such a baby. It was just a fart.”

“I'm sorry”, he whimpered, “but it smelled really badly. I feel ill.”

She sighed and looked at him sternly, “don't worry, you'll get used to it.”

He looked at her in shock and horror but said nothing. It was at that time that she realized she had fully dominated him. He had just entered the world of fart sniffing, and she was not going to let him leave it ever again. Not now that she knew how good it felt to push out a stinker into his nose. He knew this, and it was only a matter of time before his true role in life would begin.