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Fartboarding: Classified WARNING. THIS STORY CONTAINS FART/BUTT DOMINATION, SCAT, AND SEXUAL ENCOUNTERS. READER DISCRETION ADVISED. The man tried to guard his face, forgetting his hands and feet were bound around the edges of the chamber. He simply shook as Emara Mambra slowly drifted his cheeks above his face. The man stared bug eyed into her cheeks. They were dark brown, not only from her Indian nationality, but a thick coating of shit where she had employed her fart boarding tactic in its extreme measures. Smooth cheeks led to a rugged, meaty asshole, where a gape had formed from the previous sludge dripping out. PPLLLLRRSSSSSSSSSSS! The man screamed; it wasn’t a fart, so much as an expulsion of her previous shit taste that wound him up. He’d already endured so much, tasted the fruity toots of Emara Mamba's labor. “Ready to talk?” she asked. Her voice was sweet, contrasting the sour booty taste. The man couldn’t escape it as her wide ass shook from side to side. He spilled everything against the side of her booty. Emara smiled, enjoying the light, hastened touch of his breath on her hole. She held in another nasty fart to let him speak. “...please, that’s all I know...I swear!” There was a large gurgle which could be heard in the room. “Please!” said the man, watching her asshole expand with a gape the size of a quarter. Emara laughed above him and moved down to the lower side of the tank. She dipped herself in the cool water, washing the shit chunks off her. The man’s penis was placed beneath her, a continued tactic of hers. “We’ll run by your info. With intelligence Nicholas. I sure hope you’re telling the truth.” BBBLLLRRRBBBLLBBB! The man shivered in the cold pool of water as her fart bubbles blew across his penis. “If you’re lying, I can be back in here in an hour...UGH-”. “No, please no!” The man moaned as he felt something snake along his thigh. Emara grunted again, less in effort, more in pleasure. The large turd released with another thunderous round of underwater applause. PPRRRLLLLLBBBBBBPPP! The man couldn’t lift his head, but he felt the turd run along the length of his ankle and past his foot. Miss Mamba lifted her booty back over the man’s face, spreading her asscheeks to let the water trapped inside her asshole drip gently on his face. “One hour. You better not be lying.” Her asshole simply winked, now expanded to the size of an orange. Emara left the man sniveling in his tank to give the information to her superiors. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another successful session. It always felt good to take off the swimsuit before the shit chunks got to flaky. Emara sighed; she hadn’t washed it all off in the tank. Some still clung to the corners of her bathing suit. She took it off and tossed it in a nearby laundry bin, heading into the showers. BBRRRLLAAAAABBBBBBTTTTT! A wet fart thundered against her asscheeks, louder than the spray of the shower head. “Ohhhhh,” said Emara. She had quite a high regard of her talents. First she was pretty, then she became shitty. The Agency recognized her talents early on, employing her fartboarding tactics in the late 90’s. She had a 100% effectiveness, which made her other colleagues jealous, disgusted, or even intrigued. FFFLLRRRBBBAAAATTTTT! Past the loud shower fart, Emara heard light coughing...one of her intrigued colleagues. “Swimsuit is in the hamper, Gregory, “ she called past the shower wall. Emara didn’t need to be a spy to hear the perverted old hermit listening to her showering. “Oh I gotcha,” he said, pretending to be friendly. “You got that one guy squealing like a pig in the other room...nice, uh-” PPLLLRROOOBBBBTT! “...nice one! Hehe!” Mambra sighed, holding in a larger fart till he left the room. Gregory had been a janitor for the Agency since...well forever. He knew full well he shouldn’t be in here. Emara was thinking of pulling him in the shower, give him a taste of her fartboarding unrestricted. Let’s see if he’d bother her then, see if he’d still be interested...nah, he’d probably like it, the sick old fucker. And it scared her, just a little. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In Mambra’s own home, she was off the clock. At least, in theory. Late night calls to the office were rare, but just in case, she stuck to resume her training until bedtime. And her training, strange as it sounded, mostly counted for relaxation. “Ohhhhh,” Mambra sighed as the horse dildo slid along her vagina lips. BBBTTLLRRRRRPPOOTTTTT! Her asshole opened up the floodgates, sending sour fart smell up to her nose. It was dry and arid, her normally farts at their best...or worse. FFRRRROOMMMPPBBTTT! Mambra bounced up and down along the dildo’s member, imaginning some poor soul beneath her. What would they say,( that is, if they could breath past the noxious, spicy air)? “Oh Mambra, please, just your plentiful booty is enough for me!” PPLLLLAAAAABBBBTTT! “Oh god, your farts are too plentiful...you're too gracious!” FFFLLAAAPPPRRRTTLLRRTT! BBRRROOOLLLLPPPTTT! Mambra pushed the sex rod in deeper as her fantasies flourished. She didn’t quite understand her sexuality. She wasn’t lesbian and for that matter hadn’t had a male partner in years, despite some brave advances from the men in her field. BBRRRRLLLLLTTOOOTT! Once they realized her stinky nature, most backed off, too intimidated by the large Indian woman with the power of a sewage tank between her legs. Which was geuss was how she liked it, raw and dominating. She let the dildo exit her pussy as a sloppy fart bubbled forth. PPLLLRRLLLOOBBPPTTTT! Her hole expanded to it’s maximum length and she sighed as the pleasurable expanse let loose. “Oh please...not in there,” Emara playfully whispered, personifying her sex toy. She moaned as the dildo was lost inside her asshole. Now she pretended a whole host of tiny men squirming against her insides. Despite being a sex toy to stimulate horses, it had disappeared inside her almost halfway. She could have gone further if the phone hadn’t rang. Mambra sighed. No one called her this time of night...except Director Staymund. And she could bet her fart filled ass that it was important. She lept out of bed, not even bothering to remove the toy from her asshole. It swayed hilariously across her cheeks as she moved to pick up the phone. “Emera here...are you sure? Yeah OK...give me an hour I can be ready.” She grunted and held the phone to the side. Within a few seconds, the large toy was propelled out her anus. PPRRROOLLBBBBBLTTT! “Ohhh...what’s his name?” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Emara Mamba hadn’t eaten her three course dinner yet and this was an excuse to do so. She had just finished slurping down the last of her ramen noodles,(in addition to three heated hot pockets, a slice of chocolate cake, and of course some devilled eggs she’d had sitting from her last meal) when the doorbell rang. She didn’t get up because Staymund and his crew barged in anyways. Staymund crossed the room with his team, who held a man with his face bagged off. “Is it set up?” he said. Mambra ignored the oogling eyes of the other agents to look at Staymund. He held the same unamused face he always held in her presence. She nodded. “Downstairs. Key’s under the couch, same setup.” Emara got up and allowed herself a quick swig of her milk carton as they strapped the man into the Gas Chamber. Staymund and his team greeted her at the bottom of her stairwell. “He’s a Russian polack we believe. Plans to bomb two squares in Israel with narcotic gas chambers.” “Wow,” said Mambra. “That’s ironic, humorous, even.” “I call it grim.” Mambra laughed. “Well yes, that too. Don’t worry. He’ll be getting his own gas bomb himself.” BBBLLLRRRRRBBBBTTT! The agents looked away as the gnarly fart blew her robe up. Staymund stayed deadpan, brushing his nose as he walked past her with the agents. “We’ll be listening upstairs. Get everything.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Emara looked down at the pathetic man strapped inside the clear glass box. He was naked, except for the bag they left on his head. Tasteless. She opened the box and reached down to take it off, revealing a chiseled middle aged man. Handsome even. Handsome, but unfortunate. He hadn’t even gotten off a grin before she shut the lid and covered his sight with her booty. BBBPPRRLLLAAPPLLTTRRRRRR! The fart sagged off the glass and shook the man’s borders. “Whoah...nasty!” he called. A Russian accent and good intel. “Indeed. It gets even more gross when you let in the stink.” said Mambra. She lifted the lid and herself; the fart air gently wafted around the opening. The man made a face, but seemed not too altered. “So, this is how we torture nowadays?” He asked. Mambra laughed, walking over with her equipment. “Torture? No my dear. This is just conversation.” Mambra let the full power of her milky toot inside the tube. BBBLLLRRRRRROOOPPPTTTT! 5 seconds of milk fart traveled from the hose around her anus into the man’s box. It was his fifth minute of box farting and he was doing exceedingly well. Mambra looked back at the box; it was steaming with her ass juice and she could just make out the man’s face in the fog. He was staring at her big beautiful ass poking out her robe...no doubt aroused as she looked down at his hips. “How’d a beauty like you end up working for these shlucks?” FFFFFLLLLTTRRAAAATTTTT! The man’s compliments stopped after the beefy fart. “Well actually I came to them, my dear. But please, let’s focus on you for a second.” Mambra turned back to her desk where she read aloud his case file. “Marcus Ferninshlav, age 35, no immediate family contacts.” BBBLLLLAAAAAAPPBBTT! “Russian mob ties, two years service in the KGB, discharged for misorderly conduct. Care to enlighten me?” “I took off to...meet a young girl friend of mine. Got into a lot of weird stuff.” FFLLLOOPPPPOOTTT! The man’s breathing faltered, then quickened again. Emeara was confused; at this point she would hear plenty of moaning and disgraceful sounds. This man was trying to inhale normally-although failing, he seemed to be making his best effort. PPLLLRRROOAAABBOOOTTTT! “Ohhhhh,” she sighed; that was a strong eggy fart, with a potency unmatched by the night. The man gagged as it’s sour contents poured in for 10 seconds...then, he tried his hardest to inhale. “You know, you won’t be able to suck it all out the box,” said Mamba. She shook her booty with her hands for intimidation. “Even if you do, I have plenty more where that came from.” FFFLLLRRRAABBBTTT! “I’m...counting on it...read on.” Emara did, making sure to fill his box with plenty more ass rippers. She only stopped when his criminal records came up, which she read silently. “Arrested for stalking women...breaking and entering, sexual tendency involved...sniffing panties and stealing underwear…” No way! Looking back, the man still had his erection. “Well I’ll be damned,” said Emara. “They gave me a gas bomber, who’s also a fart fetishist.” She stood up and walked over to the box; Marcus was smiling inside, teary eyed. “Strange world.” She watched him suffer as she her unannounced SBD entered his fart cage. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The hose was removed and Emara sat upon the cage, lid open and asshole hanging over the man’s face. PLLLRRRAAAAABBBBBTT! The effect was the same, if not amplified. Her giant ass secured any fart air trying to escape and her asshole pumped directly into his nose. Emara could feel Marcus's tounge and breath as he giggled and choked. They were playing a neat little game with each other. FFLLOOBBBBPPOOOOOOOTTT! Marcus swallowed another fart willingly; Emera talked with composure, although she looked at his lengthened penis with disgust. “You know I can take care of your little problem down south...that is, if you give me the locations of your bombs.” PPLLLRRRRPPPPTTT! A smaller fart, to seduce and reason with him. “Ohh your ass is so lovely, Emara! So wide and so deep...and you fart like a damn elephant, hah! Nothing like these skinny broads I see on the runways.” PPLLSSSHHOOOPPPBBBTTT! Emara let him choke on a slimy, sulfur filled toot. She was getting annoyed; time was running out and she hadn’t gotten far on any fronts. To make matters worse, this man somehow knew her name. “You know my name. What a clever little man.” “Oh I know more than just your name Mamba. I know everything about you. You're my muse...my stinky….oh god,” PPPTTRRRAAAARRTTT!... “Ah, my smelly muse!” He defiantly took a deep whiff before coughing. Emara wasn’t getting anywhere with the bad cop tactic and she was on the clock. “Well maybe we can work something out? How can I deny my biggest fan? Can you give me just one site?” PLLLRRRRRSSSSSSSSSLLLRSSSS! I hope this gives you brain damage you son of a bitch...was what she thought, irrational as that reality would be. She needed those bomb sites but hated to hear the man making smooching noises directed at her purring asshole. “Okay..COUGH...okay...I’ll give you one site...but you have to do one thing for me.” “Yes?” “Step it up!” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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