The Living Car Seat
by Voidmasterdom

It was no use trying to hold any of it in. I felt it kicking and screaming inside me. Gaseous, putrid intestinal smog brewed from the breakdown of cheap roadside egg and sausage sandwiches, petrol station pastries, and grease ridden kebab meat from the kinds of town that serve only artificial representations of food. Upon the long stretches of featureless highway between forgotten, forlorn towns, there was only one diet available, and the types of foods I had been forced by convenience to consume were returning to me with a vengeance, ready to escape violently into Mr Andrew's car, ready to replace the mint freshness of the air with the wretched stench of burning sulfer.

Usually, I wouldn't mind tainting the air of a car with my gas, it only takes one whiff of the warm atmosphere of my own cheap banger to confirm that, but Mr Andrew's was famously meticulous, and the slightest hint of rotten egg, or decomposed meat, and it would look very badly on me indeed. Mr Andrew's was a prick, but I relied on his satisfaction for the progression of my career, so the last thing I wanted was for the seat of his car, that he has allowed me to use for this week's errands, to have the stench of a billion farts etched permanently into it's fabric. It would be preferable if I destroyed his car, rather than forever taint it with the hauntings of my wayward gut.

I tried to contemplate a solution, but each one posed a disadvantage so obvious that it was pointless even attempting it. Drop off at a roadside eatery that would never remember me and let out some toxic clouds of meaty air in their bathrooms? Not a good idea, I would have to stop far too often and I would be late for my errands. Wear thick pants, sit on a cushion, or leave the windows constantly open? No, prior experience told me that such efforts would only diminish the settling stench of my ass, not remove it entirely. No, what I needed was something that could take in, store, and process my gas without secreting it back out. What was I supposed to do, sit on a hoover that's constantly on?

The thought hit me as I was stopping for fuel at an old, rusted station that had settled into the overgrown foliage that was eating away at it. What item, object, or thing can satisfy the necessary requirements to take in and absorb my smell? There was only one viable answer, and whilst it made me feel nauseous with nervous excitement, it was staring me right in the face. The answer was a nose, placed directly underneath the source of the out pour of gas.

He was younger than me, just by a bit, and shorter. In fact, he was, fortunately, very short indeed, short enough for me to be able to pull my chair down and back, place him where he needed to be, and drive the car for the rest of the day. I could sustain such a position for the next few hours, I just needed a way to secure him in place. My mind wandered to the handcuffs I had in my purse. They were tools I used in bed with my boyfriend, and it gave me a certain surge of energy to carry them publicly without anybody knowing of their existence.

The fortunate coincidences fell into place, and I formulated a quick plan. I looked out to make sure it would work. He didn't look like the type of guy that had somebody waiting at home, so even if he was waiting to go home at the bus stop next to the station, I'm sure nobody would miss him for the next few hours.

I parked near the treeline, away from sight of the road and the entrance to the station. I perfected the limp, grabbed an almost empty box from the boot of my car, and raised it, before faking my fall. I yelped, and looked towards him. His eyes shifted towards me for a second as he realized that had occurred, or at least what he thought had occurred, before he rushed towards me.

“Are you okay?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and kneeling down with an extended hand.

“Yeah, I'm okay. I just hurt my leg a few days ago and fell on it again. Damn, I hope I haven't broken anything, in the box, I mean. Could you help me up?” I said this despite his already extended arm. I grabbed hold of it and pulled myself up, satisfied by his weakness.

“Thank you so much”, I giggled.

“What's that smell?” He asked, his face screwed up in disgust. It was that point when I realized that a small gust of silent air must have escaped my ass when I fell. The air was particularly foul, even from such a small air biscuit. I tried not to stammer as I blamed the bins near the station, but he just looked at me in confusion and gave a suspicious “right, must be”, trying not to look as disgusted as he obviously was. God, what had that food done to my gut?

“I think I hurt my back a little. Could you reach in and grab the box from the passenger seat? I'm afraid you'll have to reach in through the driver's door, the passenger's door is broken.”

“Of course”, he smiled awkwardly, moving towards the door. As he did so I carefully placed my hand in the bag and released the pair of handcuffs. He didn't notice, as he was too busy trying to search for the box that didn't exist. I tried not to chuckle out loud, everything was falling into place. I had to admit, engineering this evil ingenuity made me feel real good inside.

“I'm sorry, I can't see anything, is it-” He was interrupted as I swung at his legs whilst he leaned into the car. He fell into the small space beneath my seat, and tried to turn around. Quickly, I snapped both handcuffs around his hands and attached them to the hard, steel poles to the side of each seat, that allowed the seat to be adjusted. In silent shock, he braced to scream, but not before I inserted into his open mouth a used handkerchief. He tried to spit it out, but I quickly grabbed some masking tape that I had previously seen in the back of the door and taped his mouth down nice and careful. This would not only ensure that his screams could not be heard, but that he would be forced to vacuum up the smell of my farts as he inhaled. Fighting the urge to squeal in the success of my diabolical plan, I Climbed over him, hung my plump, smart skirt clad bottom over his face, and closed the door before adjusting myself so that his nose was deep in my crack, directly underneath my clothed anus.

The entire manoeuvrer felt like it lasted only a slick moment, but I imagined, as I turned on the ignition, humming and ignoring the newfound, muffled cries of the unfortunate gentleman beneath me, that it was longer and more awkward than that. Still, looking around the station, it appeared that nobody had noticed, and I was free to drive without the fear that my boss would be made aware of the foul concoctions I will produce in his beloved vehicle.

Not once did I feel pity for the man beneath me, he was just unlucky, here for my safety and not his desire. His lack of comfort didn't stir me from my position above him. It quickly became apparent that he must've now been made to perceive the already stale funk of my crack. His moans made this realization clear. Whether or not he could connect the dots and deduce that the previous smell he had complained about was in fact an escaped gust of anal wind from the bum that sat atop his nose, was not clear, but I imagined from the brief notes of disgust in his rushed, raspy complaints, that he did. Farts etch into the material of a tight, cotton skirt for some time, so I imagine it was a particularly unpleasant palette changer down there.

My belly was bloated with gas. I had enough of a build up to destroy my newfound seat. I would take my time at first, only because I didn't trust my ass not to turn a fart into something somehow less savoury, not for his sake, but for the sake of the car. Even his nose, as tight as it was against my asshole, would not be able to contain the smell of one of my sharts. Those things were lethal, and would bake into the very fabric of the car itself.

I felt a batch brew inside my gut, ready to soon be cut loose upon the face beneath me, who's struggles would soon be made to look trivial when he is forced to endure my pure methane fart from directly beneath my sweaty anus. I smirked just thinking about his reaction to what will come, again and again, and imagine his screams beneath me, baking in my foul gas. I turned on the heated seat. What's worse than a stinky fart? A hot stinky fart.

As it arrived, I held it hostage above him, allowing it to build up a little. I wanted my debut cheese cutting to be a nasty one, as I wanted him to fully appreciate my noxious scent. Even from a distance my gas was lethal when released, directly beneath? He was about to experience hell, and as I braced for release, I released a soft chuckle. God, I was an evil bitch.

I shuffled to make sure his nose was tight across my skirt. I then squeezed, my face, staring back at me in the car mirror, scrunched up in the small effort of loosening and squeezing my butthole. It escaped in a long, deep, foul rumble which shook both my cheeks and his face. Instantly, his moans became agonized, disgusted cries, his heavy breathing became violent heaves and gags as the hot air was vacuumed up his open nostrils. I loosened my body and sighed loudly, a sigh which was drowned out by the violent and desperate struggles of my car fart cushion. I was going nowhere, and he knew it. His screams became wheezy whines as his throat burned from his muffled pleads. My ass was as tight against him as it was before, and would be so when the next fart came. That realization must've hit him like a ton of bricks because his begs and pleads continued well after I ripped ass, although I was sure the smell was still present down there, stale and gross, driving his need for fresh air, a need I would not placate.

I said nothing through the process, for he was just a tool to absorb farts. The hilarity of the situation from my perspective, and the absolute disgust from his, was just an added bonus for me, although I must say I enjoyed that fart more than I expected. His cries, his desperate need to escape the clutches of my bum, and the gross smell of pure fart being masked by his face and nose gave me a sort of ecstasy similar to arousal. I won't lie, I'm going to enjoy these next few hours. He won't, he'll be in a stinking hell the entire time.

He stopped trying to escape in full and attempted now only to relieve himself of a portion of the burden of absorbing my gas. He attempted to move his nose away from my crack, so that while he will still be forced to sniff them up, the smell would be dulled as some would escape into the car. That was unacceptable. He was required to take on the full burden of the fart stench, and I will not be taking any of it. Whilst a portion escaping into the car likely won't do any permanent harm, it was the principle of him attempting to reduce his suffering that I am burdening him with him that led me to clamp down my weight, shifting my legs so that his nose would sink further into my crack and lock in place permanently. When he realized he was not getting out, he cried out in frustration, coughing loudly. Just in time for my next fart.

Because his nose was stretched out across my ass crack, deeply penetrating my rank cavern, the fart expanded in my anus until the large bubble exploded in a deep rumble, the hot gas forcing its way up the tortured nostrils of my human car seat. He thrashed uselessly against his binds and his muffled shriek and loud gags gave way to throaty dry heaves as the smell invaded his nostrils. That one sounded damp, so I'm guessing it wasn't very pleasant to endure. Those kinds of farts have smells that linger for some time, so he better get used to smelling that one.

After that he was forced to deal with, over the course of the next few hours, a barrage of nasty farts which sent him into a fit of screams each time. I did nothing to relieve his pain and disgust, rather my skirt, etched with at least 40 farts, was harder and more gross to breath through each time I let loose.

One fart was particularly abhorrent. It was quite wet, and rippled loudly forever out of my anus. It lasted so long that his screams echoed through the burst of gas as it was still coming out, causing him to panic and inhale deeply the flowing trump. He dry heaved so hard for so long after that one that I thought he would go mute from the trauma caused in his throat. After that fart he cried the rest of the time.

I said nothing to him as I was utilizing his face as my stink sponge. He was just furniture in my eyes, and you don't talk to furniture. However, during the last hour I knew I was building up something really nasty. I let loose two airy SBD's that must've smelled of pure shit because he cried louder than ever. I knew that soon his nose could not contain the smell. I knew what I had to do.

The manoeuvre was more slick and easy than I had imagined. I stopped on a lay-by and lifted myself, unbuttoning my skirt a little at the front.

“P-Please”, he managed to say as I shifted my skirt, pulling it down until my bare ass was hovering above his tear soaked face.

“God no, oh my god, please, no”, he managed to shriek as I stretched out my bare cheeks. With an hard punch to his gut, he opened his mouth to yelp in pain, and when he did I crashed my open crack over his mouth, leaving it wide open beneath my puckering anus. Sighing, I started the car, feeling the smooth vibrations of his shocked screams in my crack when he realized he could not close his mouth. The seal was tight, and this was about to get real messy.

I let forth a large shart as I was crossing an intersection. It was a wet, greasy explosion of gas (and a bit more than that) that echoed in his open mouth. His screams were inhuman, and I don't blame him, the sound alone of it rippling into his open mouth was sickening. I couldn't help but release a minx little giggle as he screamed into my asshole.

The next shart came instantly after his screams began to die down, a large explosion of swamp gas which caused his cheeks to violently expand as it burned out of my anus. I even gagged at this one, it sounded revolting. Somehow, his screams renewed, and as he swallowed my liquid fart, he convulsed, his body shaking from the sheer intense disgust of what he was forced to consume. I would have very wet panties right now if my ass wasn't bare. I imagine he's going to wash his mouth with soap when he is released from this hell.

Fortunately for him, I was almost finished at this point. Unfortunately for him, I knew I had one last rank release, a final liquid fart to force into the mouth of the shart eater beneath my sweaty arse. From the sensation and growling in my gut, it was going to be really fucking nasty.

As I parked up on some abandoned estate full of run down factories, I shut the engine off, and waited. It didn't take long for my anus to began to bulge with the violent force of what was about to be released. Something I had eaten had definitely not agreed with my stomach.

Then, I squeezed tight, and gave birth to the deepest, longest shart I had ever heard. It was so long and foul that it was almost comical. I'm sure I must've broken a few records with this one. I gasped as the force of it leaving me took toll on my stomach, reliving me of the full extent of pent up gas inside of me. Below, the inhuman, animalistic shrieks,gags and convulsed heaves vibrated my cheeks as the last of the shart ended in a sort, liquid trumpet.

I waited for 5 minutes after, for the smell to die and for him to swallow the full extent of the shart. It was very damp and sweaty down there, but I would hope that I was clean now. First, I undid the door, scooted up my skirt, and then undid his bounds. He writhed under me until I scooted up and pushed him out onto the grass.

Moaning, he crawled away, unable to stand. He began to puke violently all over the grass. Shaking my head, I slammed the door shit, turned on the engine, and left him to throw up his insides.

He would remember that for the rest of his life, but he was lucky it was only a few hours. If I ever see him again, I meed need to use him for a bit longer.