By: Vharala
PART 1
In her more than 30 years of life, Claire Redfield had seen and endured many horrors. From the Racoon City incident through to her time working for TerraSave, she had witnessed a lifetime's worth of trauma. Such experiences always leave marks, and though some of those ran deep, it was Claire's most recent excursion that was sticking with her the most.
Claire had woken up on Sushestvovanie Island, alone and in a cell. After adjusting to the dark, she searched around until she discovered that there was one other occupied cell; this one containing none other than Barry Burton's daughter, Moira. Neither of them had much an idea of how they got there, but they both in agreement that they had to escape.
The prison they found themselves in turned out to be deserted, at least of human life. Walking nightmares, the "Afflicted", stalked the halls and prowled the exits. That in itself wasn't a problem for someone as skilled as Claire, but complications arose when she and Moira discovered that they had been subjected to hypnotic suggestions before they had awoken. The idea that their will had been manipulated was stomach churning, though they'd quickly realize that the effects weren't limited to their minds, but of their bodies too.
Shotgun
Such a simple word, and a tool that had served Claire well whether she was fighting mutants or the living dead. The hypnosis implanted in her had turned it into a trigger word. Stage acts utilized such phrases to make willing participants cluck like a chicken or other means to make fools of themselves. For both Claire and Moira, however, the effect was far more embarrassing.
At hearing "shotgun", their gas production would go into overdrive. It was impossible for them to resist the instruction. No matter the peril, they'd immediately let out a loud and stinky fart.
Though they only had each other for company, the humiliation was profound. As the older of the two, Claire was supposed to be the responsible one. Instead, an unexpected -brrrpptt- from her ass had almost cost them their lives when they were mere inches away from freedom. Moira's retribution came in the form of a disgustingly mushy fart straight to Claire's face. The two of them laughed off the encounter after that, but Claire couldn't shake her guilt so easily.
Once they had secured a means off the island, they returned to TerraSave to be debriefed. It was even more embarrassing to relive their flatulent moments on file, but they had to be as accurate as possible to perhaps prevent this from happening to someone else. Life should have returned to normal after that, but Claire wasn't able to get away so cleanly.
Back on the island, the two of them had gone to great lengths to deprogram their hypnosis. It appeared to have worked, with the word "shotgun" losing it's power over them. Even so, they were extremely gassy for the remainder of their escape. They assumed that it was just the lingering effects, and that they'd be fine after having a few good farts. Unfortunately, they weren't so lucky.
Since returning to her day to day routine, Claire had been struggling with intense gas cramps. She managed to hold them in for the most part, but their successes at removing the hypnotic triggers had been greatly overestimated. They had been programmed with more trigger words than they knew, and every now and then one would come up in conversation and cause Claire to spontaneously rip ass. It never got easier. There were only so many times she could fart in front of colleagues and excuse herself. Even the people that knew of her condition had to stifle their laughter as Claire retreated, red faced, to find a quiet place that she could waft the stink away.
There were any number of experts that could potentially help her, many of which were on TerraSave's payroll. Claire could have made an appointment with any one of them, but something held her back. This was a very personal matter to her. All the confidentiality agreements in the world couldn't substitute for an honest friend to talk to. Those were in short supply these days, as most of Claire's contacts were scattered around the world on some sort of assignment. She really had to establish some sort of social life, but that would have to wait until after she stopped farting on command.
One afternoon, Claire was surprised to see an e-mail from Rebecca Chambers show up in her inbox. It had been a long time since they had seen each other last. In it, Rebecca explained that she had heard of Claire's troubles through the grapevine. As it turned out, she had taken up the study of hypnotism in recent years. Ostensibly it was to review whether the influence of companies like Umbrella were purely financial, or if there was something more nefarious going on subliminally. The e-mail's arrival was a stroke of luck, and when Rebecca reached out and asked if she'd like to meet and talk, Claire jumped at the opportunity.
After work, Claire drove to the address the Rebecca had provided. It was an unassuming apartment at a quick glance, but a closer look revealed that it was a private clinic. Where most of the doors inside the halls had the apartment number on them, this one had a golden plaque.
Rebecca Chambers
Hypnotherapy
In her e-mail, Rebecca had talked about her involvement in hypnotism as if it was a casual interest, but it looked like she may have been selling herself short. If nothing else, the sign was proof enough that Claire was in the right place. She felt the gurgles as she knocked on the door, but it wasn't so bad that she was in danger just yet. Rebecca answered on the second knock, opening the door looking just as nervous as Claire felt. Claire let out an exasperated sigh and smiled at her; it was good to see a friendly face.
The years had been kind to Rebecca. She still retained a youthful energy to her, but even a brief look at her showed that it was now backed with confidence and plenty of worldly experience. The tomboy had kept her dark hair cropped short and her make up was minimal. Perhaps to set Claire at ease, she was wearing a very low key white shirt with green sleeves. The relaxed neckline showed that she had a red undershirt on underneath. Combined with her simple pair of jeans, Rebecca gave no impression of how capable a woman she was.
"Hey, Claire." She greeted, offering a bashful smile. "It feels like it's been forever. Want to come inside?"
Rebecca held the door open as Claire entered. The room was just as small as it looked outside, with little in the way of furnishings. A comfy looking couch sat against one of the walls, while a chair was situated across from it. That was more or less it, aside from the water cooler and the small side table with a laptop on it. Dusk light was filtering in through the blinds, at least until Rebecca turned the ceiling light on.
"Make yourself comfortable." Rebecca insisted, gesturing to the couch.
Comfortable wasn't exactly what she was feeling, but Claire took a seat all the same. She had been so eager to see a friendly face when she agreed to meet, but now that she was here, the embarrassment of her situation was mounting again. She couldn't be the first one to say anything. To her credit, Rebecca picked up on these cues and took the lead.
"Do you just want to get straight to the point?" She asked, seating herself opposite Claire. "I don't have the clearance to get all of the details, but I've heard enough to be able to piece some things together. Something happened during the time you were abducted. TerraSave may have tried to keep it under wraps, but nothing can come between a girl and her social media presence. Moira Burton was with you, right? She's been posting some interesting things lately. If you both have the same problems, then maybe I can help?"
"I was hoping you'd say something like that." Claire replied, speaking up for the first time. "What happened to me.... It's a little embarrassing. I don't know if I could talk about this with just anyone."
"I'm glad you feel that way." Rebecca said reassuringly. "I know we don't have any formal relationship, but I hope you can trust that I will treat whatever you say with the utmost confidentiality. Now tell me, it's about the farts, isn't it?"
Just hearing that word made the strong and capable Claire Redfield cringe. She twisted uncomfortably in her seat, fidgeting as she thought of what to say.
"It happened back on this island." Claire began. "It's no coincidence that the only hypnotherapy expert called me, so I'm guessing you know that much already. I have no idea why, but Moira and I were implanted with these ridiculous suggestions. You'd think somebody would take that opportunity to make me assassinate a target or leak secrets, but instead they just make it so that I fart in the most awkward situations."
Rebecca said nothing, though it was obvious that she was paying careful attention. She didn't break eye contact as she opened her laptop and navigated to a few prepared pages. She nodded, encouraging Claire to continue.
"I have no control over it." Claire went on, gaining confidence now that she was already talking. "It's triggered whenever I hear certain words. Sometimes I'm at the mall and I hear a song playing. A lyric comes up and the next thing I know everyone is staring at the grown woman that just ripped a big fart in the middle of a crowd. It happens when I'm watching TV, or when I'm attending an important meeting. I don't know how many words are affected, but it's enough that it's turning me into a laughing stock. It's pretty hard for anyone to take me seriously when I could fart at any time."
"We lie to ourselves, but the truth is that most of us don't grow out of toilet-humor." Rebecca replied. "Is there anything else you want me to know?"
"There is something else." Claire considered, deciding that she may as well go all in. "It's not just when I hear the trigger words. They make me fart, but I'm gassy all the time. My stomach hasn't been flat since I got back. It's always so bloated and tight. I can feel the gas inside me all the time. It might not be so bad if I could just let it out quietly, but I'm not so lucky. Every time I fart it's always so loud and attention grabbing. Even if they weren't, the smell would do it anyway. Speaking openly, I know how bad my farts should smell. Whatever suggestion is still inside me, it's making them stink way worse."
"I can see why that would be troublesome." Rebecca surmised. She closed whatever files she had open and turned her full attention to Claire. "Would you have a problem farting in front of me? On purpose, I mean."
"I'm barely holding one in right now." Claire admitted. "Why? What are you thinking?"
"I want to help you, but we need more information before I can advise any course of action." Rebecca explained. "It's necessary that I observe you as you pass wind. I might pick up on cues that you don't, and from there we can work on testing what triggers you. Think of it as giving me some first hand experience."
In recent days, Claire had broken wind in front of more than a few acquaintances. It was mortifying every single time, and it wasn't getting easier. She was naturally opposed to letting out more stink in any sort of company, but Rebecca was the first to seem comfortable with it. Oddly so, in fact. If nothing else Rebecca's logic was sound. How could Claire realistically expect her to help with nothing to go on?
"Fine." Claire agreed. "But be warned. I wasn't exaggerating when I said they smelled really bad. You might have to air out your office after this."
Now that Rebecca had been thoroughly cautioned, it was time for Claire to do the deed. She needed to fart so badly, but now that she was trying to force it, the gas just wouldn't come. It pained her to push from this position, so she hopped up onto the couch so that she could assume a deep squat. Claire knew that she looked ridiculous, but dignity was of little concern when she was trying to eek out a fart in front of her friend. Claire's face was getting red with effort. She was about to give up when something shifted inside her, like a valve opening up a chamber of gas. The dam had broken; she was about to blow.
FFFFFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!
Sweet relief consumed Claire. The cramp in her gut subsided, the tension on her nerves was gone. It was such a satisfying feeling, and one that she would have enjoyed if it wasn't for the fact that it came from her letting one go. The fart had been loud and booming, but that was nothing compared to the odor that escaped with it. The stink of rotted cabbage wafted up to Claire's nose. She almost gagged on the smell alone it was so bad. To Rebecca's credit, she tried not to react at all. Even so, Claire could see that her eyes were watering.
"It's bad, huh?" Claire asked, sitting back down and letting the couch absorb some of her stink. "Now imagine that twenty times a day, maybe more. People avoid me like a skunk, and they're right to do so. I could go off at any moment. My office is well ventilated so it's not so bad there, but I'm never going to be able to wash the stench out of my car seats."
"Yes, that's quite the smell you can produce." Rebecca said, weakly. Her eyes were red and puffy, with wet streaks running down her cheeks. You'd think she had been pepper sprayed, not smelled a fart from across the room.
"So, can you help me deal with it?" Claire asked, desperately hoping she hadn't just anally fumigated her friend's office for no reason.
"I might be the only one that can help." Rebecca answered, lifting her sweater up to cover her nose. "Why don't you come back tomorrow? We'll run a few tests on what triggers you."
"Are you serious?" Claire asked, incredulously. "You want me to fart in front of you more!? Even after you just smelled all of that?"
"It's the only way." Rebecca assured her. "Just.... try to go easy on the Mexican food tonight."
-----
After her shift the next day, Claire arrived back at Rebecca's office to find that a large air ventilation system had been fitted on one of the windows. It could have served a whole floor, but given how bad Claire's gas stunk, it probably wasn't overkill for their cramped quarters.
"I see you've taken some precautions." Claire observed.
"I didn't mean to offend you." Rebecca replied with an ashamed look. "But you know, I'd like to still be able to use this office when we're done."
"It's fine, really." Claire said. "I know how bad I smell."
Once that awkward introduction was out of the way, the two of them assumed they same positions as yesterday. Claire sat in anticipation of the hell she was about to unleash, while Rebecca looked remarkably calm given the circumstances.
"I expect you're pretty weary of hypnotism after what happened, Claire, but I'm going to have to put you into a trance to proceed. This time it will be entirely of your own volition." Rebecca promised her. "Are you OK with that?"
"I'd be lying if I said yes." Claire answered. "But I trust you. I'll do whatever you think is best."
A calm fell upon the room as Rebecca began to ease Claire into a trance. It took time and patience. It was important that Claire relax and steady her thoughts; not something that came easily when she had a noxious bomb in her butt waiting to go off at any moment. Rebecca spoke in a soothing tone, uttering words of gentle persuasion. Claire closed her eyes a her instruction, clearing her head of nothing but her friend's voice. It took a few minutes for Claire to let her guard down, loosening up and sinking back into the couch. The tension left her muscles, rendering her in a tranquil state. She was under.
"Claire? Can you hear me?" Came Rebecca's voice, piercing through the void.
"Yes." Claire replied. She was only dimly aware of her mouth moving to form the words. Her expression was blank, and her voice was distant and feeble. She felt disconnected from her physical form, drifting to the tune of Rebecca's utterance.
"Good." Rebecca said. "Now, we need to test how receptive you are. Empty your thoughts and listen carefully to what I'm saying. You are alone, safe. Warm dirt rests beneath your feet. A cool and refreshing breeze ruffles your feathers. It's a strange feeling, but one that seems comfortable and welcoming. You aren't human anymore. The ground is close and the world looms large around you. The sun casts your shadow across the floor. You see short feet and a plump, bird-like body. You think that you're dreaming, but you can't wake up. A yellow beak protrudes from where your field of vision crosses. You hear a noise. You turn your neck to see a silhouette in the distance. You call out the only way you know how."
There was a long moment where it looked like Claire was going to reject the suggestion. Her face was scrunched up in deep confusion, but she didn't open her eyes or snap out of her trance. Claire raised up her arms to her sides, bending them at the elbow so that it looked like she had a pair of short, useless wings. She opened her mouth, letting out the least likely sound to ever come out of Claire Redfield.
"Bawk! Bawk, buck, bawk!" Claire clucked, shifting her "wings" as though she were in distress.
Rebecca couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, snapping Claire out of her delusion and making her uncomfortably aware of what she had been made to do. Her face reddened as she looked at her raised arms.
"Oh, very funny." She remarked, not sounding amused in the slightest. "Do you make fun of all your clients?"
"I'm sorry." Rebecca apologized, tears of laughter running down her face. "It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I never get to see you like that. You're always so serious all the time."
"Just tell me that you've gotten it out of your system and that you are actually going to help me now." Claire sighed. She was annoyed, but she was willing to let Rebecca's prank slide for now.
"Of course I'm going to help." Rebecca said. "Making you cluck wasn't just for my amusement, you know. It let me test how receptive you are to suggestion. Most people can shrug off any attempt at hypnotism if it's against their will. This demonstration proved that your resistances are far weaker than they should be."
"So we just need to restore my resistance to suggestion and I'll be fine?" Claire asked, not daring to hope that it would be that simple.
"Possibly, but first we'd need to pinpoint your most severe vulnerabilities." Rebecca explained. "I'm going to put you under again. This time I'm going to list off a number of phrases and see what causes you to react."
"You mean cause me to fart." Claire corrected her. "Fine, but no messing around this time."
Despite Claire's reservations, it was no more difficult for Rebecca to induce a trance a second time. It was genuinely worrying how vulnerable Claire was to suggestion. Such a weakness could be easily exploited, and was all the more reason to strengthen her defenses.
"You are in a safe place, Claire." Rebecca began again. "There is no one here you judge you. Only me, only you. Picture yourself in this room. Nothing lies beyond these walls. You have total freedom. Listen careful as I speak. I'm going to attempt to make you pass wind using one of the implanted suggestions. Do not be alarmed. Just relax and surrender yourself. Do you understand?"
"I do." Claire answered, dreamily.
"Excellent. Now here we go." Rebecca told her. "Pancreas, solomon, medieval, suture, lemongrass, current, abyssal, drain, mirth, evacuation, commendable, rotten, extinguish, virus, frozen, trampoline, leaf, burrower, fish, core, document, typewriter, reptile, chocolate, drill, bark, ear, down, look, cloud, sticky, forget, best, peel, worry, sink...."
Rebecca went on, rifling through a list of words that she had compiled. They weren't truly random, though neither did they necessarily have any deeper purpose behind them. So far Claire had reacted to none of them. It made for slow and tedious work, but it was still the most efficient method.
"Table, rosemary, eclipse, saxophone, discovery, spark, lost, recognize, bleed, heart...."
BLOOOOOORRRRPPPPPTTTTT!!!!!!
"Heart?" Rebecca wondered.
Claire let out another fart at the sound of the word, confirming without a doubt that they had discovered another buried trigger. There was no reaction on her face, but her passiveness was no measure of the stink of her gas. It was just as bad as last time, maybe even more so. Rebecca's disgust went unseen by her subject, with the redhead in a state of utmost contentment.
"Oh god, Claire...." Rebecca moaned, reeling from the fresh wave of stink. The ventilation was clearly not doing it's job fast enough. A funk hung in the air, Claire's fart having risen to head height. Rebecca had already inhaled quite a lot of it, and though she was struggling to breathe, she was determined to continue.
Claire sat there, farting away as Rebecca worked. Soon "key", "serum", "ideal" and "outcome" joined "heart" on the list of triggers that could make a survivor like Claire cut the cheese on demand. Each time she passed wind completely at peace. It was a mercy that a fully aware Claire would not be afforded. Eventually the potency of Claire's gas reached a point that Rebecca was actually gagging between her words. She was about to bring their session to a premature end when one final discovery brought about the wettest fart yet.
"....Relief."
The word was spoken, setting off a chain reaction that affect both Claire's mind and body. It was as though her brain had a dedicated "fart now" function. The production of gasses inside her overloaded, bringing about a speedy deliverance of flatulence that reeked as though it had been sitting in her bowels for weeks.
PPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rebecca's poor couch cushions took the hit point blank. The dreadful odor sank into them, as Claire absentmindedly shifted around to get more comfortable. Meanwhile, the budding hypnotherapist was at a loss for words. Claire's awful stench had stolen her vocabulary, and it wouldn't give it back until she took a long whiff. Rebecca breathed, or more accurately, choked. Her lungs were meant for oxygen, not whatever hellspawn had just been unearthed inside her friend's butt. It smelled so foul that Rebecca wretched and dry hurled. She was glad that hadn't eaten yet, or else her office would be even more soiled than it already was.
For Claire's part, she had just ripped an extreme amount of ass without even the slightest hint of a reaction. It must be nice, Rebecca thought, to be oblivious to her stench. Bad as it was, it was fair to say that they had discovered the worst of the triggers. This was an opportunity that they couldn't pass up so, slipping back into her professional guise, Rebecca regained her composure and proceeded.
"Claire, we've made some good progress. Tell me, how did that last one feel?"
Claire shifted around in her seat before answering, unknowingly spreading the damp that had now set in to her underwear. She was thinking, trying to recall her mental response to relief.
"It was nice." Claire replied honestly. "It felt warm, comforting. Like I was just given permission to let go of everything. I'd like to feel that way again."
Rebecca suspected that Claire would answer differently if she knew that she had ruined her undergarments with a thick helping of fart flavored butt sweat, not to mention Rebecca's couch. However, that response was as Rebecca had anticipated. This was all sounding so familiar; there had to be a link. She'd have to dig deeper, but for now she had learned all that she would today.
"Alright Claire, I'm going to bring you out of it now." Rebecca said, speaking softly as to ease her friend out of her trance. "You'll awake on the count of three. Are you ready? One, two.... three."
Claire's eyes snapped open and her nose wrinkled. She adjusted her seating lifting her ass up to confirm her suspicions. The wet patch had soaked through to her pants and left a stain on the cushion. The smell of her fart was carried by the damp, and she had the suspicion that she had come dangerously close to crapping herself.
"Oh god, Rebecca!" Claire cried. "You could have stopped me before I ruined my pants! What am I suppose to do now!? I can't go home like this!"
"Relax, Claire." Rebecca said, trying to keep her calm. "I don't have any control over your bowels. What I do have is a change of clothes. I might be a little smaller than you, but they should fit well enough."
Misgivings aside, Claire didn't see a choice in the matter. The sweat in her crack squished as she got up and moved around. It made for an awkward waddle to the bathroom back in the hall, trailing her stink behind her. She made a note to spray some air freshener around once she had changed into Rebecca's clothes. They were a tighter fit than she would have liked, but she was in no position to complain.
After she had freshened up, Claire returned to Rebecca's room to find that the couch cushions had been flipped over. Rebecca was already back in her chair and ready to continue despite how long they had been going so far.
"I thought we were done for the day?" Claire asked.
"We are." Rebecca replied. "I mean, there is one last thing. I'm sure you must have wondered why I've taken such an interest in your case?"
"I did." Claire answered. "Are you ready to tell me?"
"Have a seat; they're clean." Rebecca offered. "This could take a while."
Curiosity piqued, Claire sat on the couch again and winced when she heard the underside of the cushion squelch. She did her best to ignore it, giving Rebecca her full attention.
"So, this isn't the first time I've encountered a situation like yours." Rebecca began. She seemed to be uncomfortable talking about this, but her voice was resolute. "I've kept this a secret, but I once fell prey to the same effect. It happened all those years ago, back in the Spencer mansion....."
PART 2
1998 was the turning point for a lot of things. The use of bio-weaponry, the downfall of a major pharmaceutical corporation, and the year that two important women completely lost control of their gas.
It was a cold and dark night when Rebecca Chambers ventured into the Spencer Estate. She was joined by her assigned partner, Jill Valentine, a woman a few years her senior and with some experience under her belt. None of that would prepare her for what she would encounter on the Arklay Mountains. The risen dead, walking corpses that feasted on the flesh of the living. Neither of them had had ever seen anything like it before. They prowled the hallways of the mansion, turning what could have been a simple mission into the stuff of nightmares. The two of them had already had a few harrowing close calls with the flesh eaters, and as much as they wanted to, leaving wasn't an option.
The mansion was maze of hallways and sealed doors. The architect had obviously been a sadistic individual. Rebecca and Jill had been wandering around for at least an hour with nothing to show for it but their mounting frustration and much less ammo that when they had started. The dead didn't go down easily.
"This is taking too long." Jill complained. "At this rate it'll be dawn before we find what we're looking for. The trail will be long cold by then."
"Then what could we do?" Rebecca asked, deferring to her senior. "We haven't found anyone else and the radios have been dead since we got here."
"We'll have to split up and cover more ground." Jill suggested. She clearly wasn't happy that she was resorting to that option, but her face said that this was their only choice.
"But...." Rebecca protested.
"It's the only way." Jill said, clasping Rebecca's shoulder and squeezing in a manner she intended to be reassuring. "You can do this, Rebecca. I believe in you."
Rebecca didn't seem to agree, but she wasn't about to argue over this. Jill was right. If they didn't get the job done soon, then their mission would be a failure.
"We'll be out of contact because of the radios." Jill explained. "I'll take the East wing and the upper floor. You search around the West side and see what you can turn up. Come find me if you run into trouble, OK?"
"Right." Rebecca nodded, trying not to let her voice quiver.
They parted ways, with Jill heading for one corner of the estate while Rebecca took the other. Rebecca wasn't used to acting alone and yet, excluding the shambling corpses, that's exactly the situation she was in. She steeled her nerves and made her way West, clearing the dead in her way and avoiding that which she could. Ammo was scarce, and she really didn't want to have to get close enough to these things to use her knife. There was nothing that she ran into that she couldn't manage by herself, but at one point she was walking down a hall when one of the windows cracked and gave her quite a scare. Nothing more came of it, but she had to take a second to regain her composure after that.
Eventually, Rebecca came to a room the purpose of which she couldn't begin to guess. She decided that it was the gallery, though there were no more portraits inside than there were decorating the rest of the building. The floor space was devoid of furniture save for a thick and expensive looking rug laid out across the ground and up a set of two steps. On the elevated section of the room was a mechanical device placed upon a marble plinth. The device's inner workings were on full display. It was all clockwork and gears, beautiful to those with an eye for craftwork. The shifting of the gears was operating a sort of pendulum that hung from a connected frame, and whose arc passed ever so slightly over the plinth itself. At the center of the device was a miniature crank. Rebecca twisted it, bringing the pendulum to a halt at it's lowest point.
Now that it was still, Rebecca could see that the pendulum ended in some sort of claw or hook. She wondered if something used to belong there, but before she could puzzle out what it could be the pendulum began to move again.
Rebecca moved beyond the oddity, walking over to the far wall where a large and imposing portrait was hung. It appeared to be of the Arklay Mountains, but more interesting was the draft coming it's edge. Rebecca cupped her hands around the side of her eyes, blocking out as much light as she could as she went in for a closer inspection. She saw something, a crack of light through a thin seam.
"A secret passageway?" Rebecca wondered aloud.
While she examined the crack, Rebecca was oblivious to the shuffling of dragged feet coming from behind her. By the time she heard it, a rotting body was already upon her. It grabbed her by the shoulders, lurching in to take a chunk out of her neck. She kicked at it's left knee, breaking the bone and sending the zombie stumbling. Rebecca sized the advantage and drew her pistol. She held it to the zombie's head and fired. Blood and shard of it's skull splattered across the carpet. It wasn't pretty, but Rebecca consoled herself that it wasn't a live target.
Rebecca took a deep breath and holstered her weapon. She was about to return to her investigation when she spotted something glinting from the zombie's pocket. After making sure that the corpse really was dead, she reached into it's pocket and pulled out a golden pocketwatch. It was in immaculate condition other than a slight smearing of blood. She quickly wiped that off and flipped the watch over in her hand.
"Could it be?"
Dangling the watch by it's chain, Rebecca returned to the plinth and deactivated the pendulum. She hooked the pocketwatch upon the claw-like tip and waited a few clicks for the gears to start turning again. The pendulum swung, this time in a far more limited arc. It kept the swaying of the watch centralized and controlled. Rebecca found it almost mesmerizing to follow it's movements. Her attention was beginning to drift, her goals lost amid a sea of fog. She heard a scratch of static from somewhere in the room. It reminded her of someone setting a needle upon an old record, but in place of music a voice was piped into the room.
"Listen....Do not look away....Stare directly in front of you....The watch is interesting, is it not?....It sways, back and forth....Now and then....Body and mind...."
It was a male voice. From the second it spoke, Rebecca became enraptured by the time-keeping device before her. It was comforting to watch it trace it's path through the air. She couldn't look away; she had no reason to.
"Relax your body....Ease your mind....Open yourself to me....Stare at the watch....See as it sways, always returning to the same position....There's comfort in the inevitable....Surrender to it....Surrender to me...."
As she continued to stare, Rebecca wasn't even aware that she was obeying the recorded voice. It was only a few seconds in reality, but to her it felt like an eternity. Anyone watching would have witnessed the young and intelligent Rebecca Chambers gazing at the watch, slack-jawed like an idiot. She didn't snap out of it until the recording came to an end, but by then the damage was done.
"Huh? That's weird." She said, shaking her head to clear it. The pendulum had come to a stop again, as had the gears in the mechanism. Rebecca thought that the little distraction was over, but the sound of static was still coming from an unseen set of speakers. The recording hadn't yet finished. It could just have been empty space left on the record, but when Rebecca went to leave the room, the voice spoke again.
"....Chamomile."
Rebecca doubled over, clutching her stomach as she was wracked with the most intense intestinal cramp of her life. It's onset was sudden, coming out of nowhere to incapacitate her. This was no mere ache. Something inside her was rotten and desperate to come out.
bbbbbbbbbbbLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!
An atrocious stench exploded out of Rebecca's ass, spraying her underwear with sweat and leaving her feeling empty, but relieved. The pressure inside her was gone, but in it's place was a God forsaken odor that she was embarrassed to admit had come from her. It's stink was thick enough to taste on her tongue. She gagged, the aroma of her previous dinner threatening to vomit up the rest.
"Oh God.... that really reeks!" She wheezed. "What did I eat?"
The gallery had been tainted by her posterior perfume. It lingered for ages, drifting in the stagnant air and fermenting into an even grosser stench. Rebecca had to get away, but the recording wasn't finished with her yet.
"....Faith."
Rebecca's empty innards immediately refilled with a swirling and highly pressurized gas. Bubbles of trapped flatulence clogged up her passageways and sent spikes of pain shivering through her. She just managed to keep herself from dropping to her kness, but what she couldn't control was the look of pure relief on her face when her asshole opened up and eased her discomfort in the form of a loud and incredibly satisfying fart.
PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It felt so good to get the gas out that she almost moaned. Rebecca's fart had been hot, sending ripples of crackling flatulence through the air. It was so intense that she had to catch her breath afterward, but that meant that she was swallowing quite a lot of her own hideous fart. She wouldn't soon forget the taste or smell, but the real question was why she had broken wind in the first place.
"The recording?" She considered. "Is it making me pass wind?"
The answer to that question came when the recording passed it's third instruction. Rebecca caught the word "sovereign", and as she suspected, it sent her reeling from another sudden influx on noxious fumes. Rebecca decided to leave, but not before "sovereign" caused her to deposit another stinking guff that would likely cling to the gallery's rugs for the next decade at least.
pppppppppppppplllllllllllllllrrrrrrrrppppppppttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Rebecca's butt cheeks wobbled from the force and vibrating note that she was eeking out. Her face was a bright shade of crimson, burning hot with the embarrassment of unintended farting. The sooner she left, the better, and so she retreated into the hall and beyond the reach of that fart-inducing record. Quite why she had reacted to it in this way was a mystery, but the more pressing matter was that she had potentially discovered a secret room. It could hold exactly what they were looking for. Jill had to be told, but with the radios down, Rebecca would have to report her findings in person. Jill was searching the West wing, so that's where Rebecca decided to head next.
Between them lay a series of hallways. Rebecca had already cleared them of threats on the way to the gallery, but on her return she found them populated by the shambling dead once more. She had to be more careful now. Not only was she running low on ammo, but her continued intestinal distress was making her aim shaky at best. The discomfort still plagued her, though she had mercifully not farted again since leaving the recorded messages behind. Such a profound physical reaction would warrant further investigation, but that would have to wait for now. She was here on a mission. Even if she was reduced to a stinking windbag, she knew what had to come first.
A few more zombies lay dead in her wake as she approached the hallway that ran passed the outside gardens. There were no obvious threats on front of her, but she opted to take things slowly. The heavy patter of rain hitting the roof above was making her tension rise. She was on edge, a feeling not helped by the hollow ache of her intestines.
SMASH!
The nearby window erupted into a thousand shards of glass as a rotting, long dead dog bounded through it. The canine corpse landed in the hallway and turned to stare at her, growling. Rebecca stumbled backwards in fright, losing her footing and falling onto her ass at the precise moment that her bowels gave in.
bbbbbbbbbbbbbllllllllllllrrrrrrrrPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The airiness of the fart was quickly replaced with the squishing sound of sweat being blown from around her anus. It spattered the back of her underwear and stained the white fabric with a wet, brown smear. She clenched with all of her will power, halting the course of nature just before she embarrassed herself further. It took a great deal of effort to control herself, but there were bigger things to worry about right now. Namely, the issue of man's no-longer-best-friend prowling towards her, ready to tear her apart.
The dog stared at her. It looked hungry, despite that fact that half of it's face was missing and one of it's eyes was dangling loose in it's socket. Rebecca pushed herself backwards along the floor, smearing foul sweat across her ass in her attempt to get away. She fumbled for her pistol, readyimg it just as the dog lurched for her. Rebecca fired three rounds. Those were the last she had, but fortunately they were just enough to put the dog down for good.
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief and, unfortunately, an inhale of the horrendous stench coming from her ass. It was so much worse than a simple fart. She got up to inspect the damage, using the intact window to catch her reflection. It wasn't good. A dark stain was covering the entire seat of her pants. She had come so close to shitting herself. It was so gross to have such a swampy ass, but there was nothing for it. She couldn't exactly stop in the middle of a zombie-infested mansion to wipe herself off.
"I'm never going to live this down." She whimpered. Rebecca was already the rookie on the team. To be the one that had been almost scared shitless was an unbearable humiliation, but bear it she did. Whatever had happened to her back in the gallery must have been worse than she thought. There was no way that she'd so easily let her bowels go under normal circumstances. She'd have to report to the medic as soon as the mission was complete, but first she needed to find her partner.
The return to the main entrance was otherwise uneventful. Rebecca took it slow and steady. Partially as a measure of caution, but also because the accumulated sweat in the back of her pants made it awkward to to do anything faster than a walk. She thought about dumping her dirty underwear somewhere, but going commando didn't seem like the best idea right now. The last thing she needed was for one of the undead to catch her with her pants down.
Rebecca arrived to find Jill already waiting for her. Evidently, the senior agent had completed the search of the East wing. Jill gave Rebecca a curious glance as she approached, noting the blood spatter of her bare arms and her awkward gait.
"Are you hurt?" Jill asked.
"No, I'm fine." Rebecca answered, hastily. "Just ran into a few of those things, that's all."
"But the way you were walking....?" Jill said, clearly concerned for the girl under her charge.
"I almost shit myself, OK?" Rebecca admitted, her face growing red hot at her sudden outburst. "It wasn't my fault, so there's no need to rub it in."
"No." Jill said with a smirk, looking at brown smear on the back of Rebecca's pants. "I'd say you've done that already."
"You're unbelievable...." Rebecca sighed, hearing her wealth of butt sweat squelch as her posture relaxed. "Look, I found something back there. I think it was in the gallery, a secret passageway. I was trying to open it up when this happened."
Rebecca gestured embarrassingly to the brown stain upon her rear. It smelled so bad that Jill choked on her next breath even though she was a good few feet away.
"Must have been some scare." Jill laughed.
Rebecca scowled and started to lead the way back West, explaining what had happened as they walked. Jill's laughter died as she became curious as to the recording that Rebecca described, but that didn't stop her from gagging on her partner's stink. As she was the one following, Jill had the misfortune of walking through Rebecca's odorous trail. It was all that she could taste or smell as they walked, but soon enough they arrived at the gallery and she was spared the worst of the stench.
"This is it?" Jill asked, her voice high as she was pinching her nose tightly.
"Yes." Rebecca replied. "It's the mechanism over there. It might still be the key to opening up the passage behind that portrait on the far wall, but all I could get it to do was play an old recording that made me start.... you know...."
"Right...." Jill said, not entirely convinced of Rebecca's story. "Well then, let me see what I can do."
While Rebecca stayed back to cover the door, Jill climbed the steps and approached the plinth. The recording that Rebecca had mentioned was no longer playing, and both the device and the pendulum had fallen still. Jill wasn't sure what would happen when she turned the tiny lever, but before she got the chance there was a great thud behind her as a glass wall fell from the ceiling, parting the room in two.
"Jill!" Rebecca cried, running up to the new wall and pounding on the glass. Both her voice and the slams of her fist were dulled through the glass, reaching Jill muffled and dampened.
Jill may not have been able to hear much of Rebecca's attempt to get to her, but the same couldn't be said for the dead that were roaming the Spencer Estate. As Rebecca tried to find a way through the glass wall, the first of the decayed corpses made it's way behind her.
"Rebecca, look out!" Jill screamed to her partner. Rebecca turned to face the incoming danger and readied her knife. Against one she would be fine, but unfortunately the racket they had been making was turning the gallery into most popular attraction in the house.
As Jill looked on, Rebecca backed herself up to the glass and stared in terror at the horde of bodies creeping towards her. She was trembling, both because she had farted again and also at the very real prospect of death that was swarming into the room.
Jill drew her pistol and unloaded three rounds into the glass. Cracks appeared where each bullet impacted, but the 9mm rounds hadn't come close to penetrating the wall.
"Damn!" She cursed. "It's bulletproof."
There was nothing in the room she could throw, leaving Jill with only one option. It was a long shot, but as she heard Rebecca whimper and saw the girl backing up against the glass wall in fear, Jill knew it was a chance she had to take.
She reached for the small crank and turned it, bringing life back to the pendulum. Jill knew not to look at the watch after what Rebecca had said, but it wasn't so easy in practice. The time keeping device had a way of drawing her attention, forcing her to look it's way no matter how hard she resisted. The crackle or the recording returned to the room once Jill had been ensnared, pouring it's poison into her ear. The message was the same as with Rebecca, but something was different. That something would become evident soon enough.
It took Jill a few moments to clear her thoughts after the initial part of the recording had finished, by which time the swarm of zombies was almost upon Rebecca. For one horrible second, Jill thought they her gamble had been for nothing. She was readying herself to break the entire machine when the wall raised and Rebecca tumbled through.
The sound of gunshots echoed through the mansion as Jill efficiently dispatched the oncoming horde, firing a bullet clean through the skulls of each advancing threat. The bodies fell one by one, littering the floor but leaving the two women completely unscathed.
"Oh Jill, you had to listen to the recording." Rebecca cried, blaming herself for what Jill had put herself through. Despite her best efforts, she had become the burden that she had tried so hard not to be. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I feel fine." Jill replied, though truthfully her head was still a little fuzzy. "I heard the recording, but it doesn't seem to have affected me much. Maybe I'm just immu-PPPPPPPHHHHHRRRPPPPTTTT!!!"
After Jill had made fun of her bathroom accident, it was hard for Rebecca to hold back a smile as her partner let rip mid-sentence. The fart was both loud and concussive, sounding like a depth charge had detonated up Jill's ass and was emerging as a dense, sense-corroding plume of stinking gas. Even compared to the mess in Rebecca's pants, Jill's odor was impressively foul.
"-cough!- -cough!-" Rebecca sputtered, taking a few steps back to increase the distance between her flatulent partner and herself. "Fuck! Is that what I must smell like to you!? It's awful!"
Jill's face had turned an impressive shade of crimson, lighting up and glowing hot from her backside emission. Rebecca wasn't exaggerating to humiliate her, it really did stink that bad. The invisible cloud of funk had dispersed behind her, rising with every second and bringing yet more smell to her nostrils.
"Why did I do that?" She asked, partially to divert attention from her smell, but also because it was an important question. "I didn't feel that coming on at all. Is it because I said immune?"
PPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Confirming her suspicions, Jill's butt answered with a bellowing round of hot and stinky gas. Her rounded cheeks rumbled as the flow passed through them, really driving the point that she had just let one go. The stink hit her as before, burning her nostrils and sticking to her skin. She'd need a long shower after this was all over.
"I'm sorry for doubting you, Rebecca, and for making light of your situation." Jill apologized, still waving her stink away as to not get any in her mouth. "I can hardly make fun of you when my own farts reek just as bad. We don't mention this to anyone, right?"
"Right." Rebecca agreed, glad that Jill suggested it first. "So, what do two gassy girls like us do now?"
"We should see if that passage had opened up, but first we have to deal with this recording." Jill said. "It could prove to be useful, and we can't just leave a trap like that for someone else to stumble into."
On cue, the cracking of the recording came through the speakers yet again. Jill and Rebecca rushed to find the source before it could utter another word, but before they could, the voice spoke the word "immune", verifying the trigger phrase and causing Jill to push out another embarrassing toot.
PPPPPPPPLLLLLLLLLLRRRRPPPPPTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!
It was one thing to be forced to fart, but it didn't necessarily come easily. Jill had to lean in to her fart, raising a leg to make the passing a little less difficult. From Rebecca's point of view it looked like Jill was enjoying it, and the long sigh afterward did nothing to dispel that impression.
"Nice one." Rebecca said dryly, not sure if she should be complimenting her superior's gas.
Jill ignored her, and the continuing fumes erupting from her bottom. She busied herself with testing the walls, tapping each wooden panel with her pistol until she found one that rang hollow. She pressed her hands against it, enlisting Rebecca's help to slide the panel open and reveal a small compartment hidden in the wall. Inside was an old gramophone, hooked up to an odd device that ran into a small seam with it's circuitry. On the gramophone itself was an old record. It was well worn and still spinning, sending it's crackling messages to whomever fell prey to it's trap. Jill made short work of disabling it, though she preserved the record and handed it to Rebecca for safe keeping.
"One less thing to deal with." Jill said. "At least now we won't be farting all of the time."
"Uh... I don't think it's going to be that simple." Rebecca replied, stowing the record in her backpack. "I was.... farting.... even without the recording playing. I think it's the words, they've somehow been tied to our gas. We're not out of this yet, Jill."
PPPPPPPHHHHHHLLLLLLLLOOOOOORRRRRRPPPPPTTTTTTT!!!!!!!
Jill was taken by surprise as another gust of gas shot out of her rear. It was likely the most rotten batch yet, bringing forth the stink of decayed eggs and digested vegetables.
"Jill?" Rebecca said, cautiously.
Another blaring -BBBRRRRAAAAPPPTTTT!!!- wafted out of Jill's bum, coalescing with her earlier stink clouds to form a potent fume that could have killed the dead. Jill was ground zero, but it was Rebecca that got the worst of it. Her eyes unfocused as she accidentally breathed Jill's farts in, leaving her in a haze that she didn't recover from until she had had coughed up all of her friend's awful farts.
"Oh God, you fart when I say your name!?" Rebecca choked. Neither of them dared to test it, but there was enough evidence to indicate that it was true. It was a cruel punishment for Jill, but she opted to endure it with as much dignity as she had left.
"We'll take care of this later." Jill said hurriedly, wanted to get away from the fart cloud she had made just as much as Rebecca. She walked over to the large portrait that concealed the passageway, finding it no longer sealed but still not easy to budge. "Take the side. I've got the bottom."
Working together, the two of them managed to pry the portrait from the wall, swinging it open and unearthing a long staircase that descended into a dark abyss.
"It's been a rough night already." Rebecca commented, sounding tired and defeated. "Do you think we'll find what we're looking for down there?"
Jill didn't answer right away. She was staring down the secret staircase, contemplating what horrors still lay before them. One hand was gripped tightly around her 9mm, while the other was resting upon her belly. A disturbed writhing of gasses was upsetting her stomach and making her grimace. Rebecca saw her distress and moved to comfort her, wrapping her arms around her partner and pulling her into a sweet embrace. Hugs were supposed to be warm and affectionate, but this one was warm for all of the wrong reasons.
BBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPBBBBBBTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What was intended to be a tender moment was ruined as Jill began to fill her pants. Rebecca awkwardly didn't know when to let go, so she kept tightly hugging Jill as she defecating against her will. The fart had been bad, but it was the mound of crap plopping into her underwear that was the real reason that Jill's face was as red as a rose. She made an even bigger bulge than the one currently sagging from Rebecca's rear, and the stink from this one was fresh in all of the most foul ways.
"Did I just....?" Jill trembled.
"Shit your pants?" Rebecca offered. "Yeah, you did."
Jill tentatively moved her hand to her butt, giving her newly poop-padded rear a feel. There were a few solid logs occupying her pants, though they were soft enough the she could squish them with a poke. She hadn't soiled herself since she had moved out of wearing a diaper, and yet here she was. Jill Valentine and Rebecca Chambers, two grown women that had been robbed of the ability to fart for themselves and now reeked more than the most potent skunk spray.
"Let's just get this over with." Jill suggested, cringing at the mess she had made. "Do you want me to head down first?"
"And get caught downwind of your ass?" Rebecca answered. "No thanks. I'll take the lead on this one."
And so Rebecca took point, descending into the subterranean level of the Spencer Estate with Jill following at a distance that spared her the worst of their shared stench. This was merely the beginning of a night that neither of them would forget, much as they wished they could.
-----
"What did you find down there?" Claire asked.
"A lot of things I can't talk about." Rebecca sighed. "Nothing related to our issues, at least. The best that I can come up with is that I was subjected to an early form of the hypnosis you suffered, though I didn't put those pieces together until recently. As for motive? It's even harder to say. Maybe it was just a prank? Or perhaps it's just the start of a more sinister form of influence and control?"
"Wait.... That's all you have?" Claire said, getting to her feet and starting to pace. "I thought that when you asked me to meet, that you might have some sort of a solution to all of this."
"I asked you here so that I could save you all of the trouble that I went through." Rebecca explained. "There's no fix for this, at least not yet. You can have some luck at easing the symptoms, but it never truly leaves. I felt it was important that you understand that, and to know that you can get by even with our little problem."
This wasn't what Claire had expected. She could feel the frustrations starting to boil over, but letting them out now wasn't going to do anything. Rebecca was just trying to help. She had suffered from this far longer than Claire had, and she was doing fine. Maybe she was right?
"The tell me, Rebecca. How do I face my co-workers, knowing that I could blow at any second?" Claire asked.
"You accept it." Rebecca said, calmly. "It's not ideal, but it's how I've made peace with it. Sure, I still get embarrassed when I let one rip unexpectedly, but it's not as bad as it used to be. I've found that it's important to be comfortable with the things you have no power over. Here, let me show you."
Rebecca went over to one her row of filing cabinets and pulled out an old record from one of the drawers. She held it up for Claire to see, though it's surface was plain and unremarkable.
"This is the recording I found at the Spence Estate." Rebecca continued. "I listen to it from time to time, letting myself fart when no one is around. It feels kinda good sometimes, but I know that's not our real problem."
As Claire watched on, Rebecca got to her feet again and performed an exaggerated lean forwards, bending at her waist. A warm and bassy crackle came from the petite girl's ass, a warning call before her underwear filled in front of Claire's eyes. It started as just a small lump, but soon Rebecca's pants were overstuffed with the contents of her bowels. Not content with just soiling herself, Rebecca then went on to wave her stinky backside in Claire's face.
"What's gotten into you, Rebecca!?" Claire exclaimed, trying to avoid her friend's awful stink.
"Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away there." Rebecca said, apologizing and calming down. She returned to her seat, setting her poop-covered ass down. "Bending over is one of my physical triggers, and one of the ones that make me defecate."
Claire was surprised to see that Rebecca's pants held her waste so well. She had needed to change after just a small accident, but Rebecca was able to sit just fine even with the extra cargo she was lugging around.
"They're a special design." Rebecca said, answering Claire's unasked question. "I don't like to think of it as a diaper, but it does the same sort of job. This way I can go about my day without having to change three or four times."
"Is it really going to get that bad for me?" Claire questioned.
"I don't know." Rebecca said, honestly. "You and Moira are two of the only cases I've heard of in years, so I don't have a great sample size to draw any conclusions. In any case, I have a couple more of these pants if you want them. I can also give you the contact details of the place that designs them?"
Claire was still recovering from having her hopes crushed. She was convinced that Rebecca had a cure or something, but now that prospect had been dashed. The idea that she might be shitting herself so often that she might need pants like hers wasn't something she liked to think about, but she wasn't going to turn down a kind offer like that.
"Thanks, Rebecca." She said. "I don't know yet, but I think talking to you has been a big help."
"I'm glad to hear it." Rebecca replied, cheerfully. "Same time next week?"
Claire agreed to further appointments, hoping that she and Rebecca could forward this investigation and eventually puzzle out why this had happened to them, and more importantly, how to stop it. It would likely be a long and embarrassing road ahead of them, but Rebecca's recounting of what had happened to her was enough to give Claire the strength to face down her friends and co-workers whenever she broke wind. Maybe in time she would be free of this affliction.
Until then, Claire would just have to get used to her farts.