By: causticblast
PROLOGUE
“What about him? He seems nice.”
Peter stopped dead in his tracks, shaken out of the tired boredom of his walk home from closing up the shop. He definitely heard someone say those words. It would have been only slightly concerning if it weren’t for the fact that he was the only one on the street right now; a quick 360 look-around confirmed that.
“Dammit, Cath, I think he heard us.”
What the hell?
“Guess it’s him, then.”
“No, wait, don’t just—“
As Peter swiveled around in confusion and mounting anxiety, a figure suddenly dropped onto the sidewalk in front of him, seemingly out of the sky, landing with a striking pose. She slowly rose from her crouched landing position, giving Peter ample time to take in her appearance.
A skintight, full-body suit adorned with yellow-gold accents on a black and brown fabric showed virtually none of her dark skin, but left absolutely none of her curves to the imagination. Her lower body exuded power, with thick pillar-like legs supporting dangerously alluring hips. She must have been about Peter’s own height, but her build gave her a confident energy that made her seem taller. Above the waist, a stylized “BB” insignia sat in the middle of her chest, matching its yellow with the other accents on her suit. The insignia was nestled between her slightly flattened breasts, pressing into the outfit with a force that telegraphed their hefty volume underneath. Climbing his gaze higher, Peter saw a pointed chin framing a full pair of lips, colored a luxurious blue and curled in an irresistible smirk that agitated Peter’s thoughts. A domino mask covered most of the top half of her face, but as her eyes captured his, the sultry gaze she was holding was unmistakable.
What grabbed Peter’s attention the most, however, was the woman’s ample backside. It didn’t just grab his attention, it seized it and pinned it against the nearest wall, much as Peter began unconsciously wanting to happen to his face. As she stood up, her round buttocks almost seemed to expand: she slid her hips to one side, and a dramatic weight behind her shifted in the same direction. Even with her body facing Peter directly, her hips signaled the raw power in her booty.
While he took in the woman’s figure, he heard a second someone land behind him. Peter pieced things together, realizing that 1) these were probably superheroes of some sort, based on the outfit, and 2) they were probably camped out on the rooftop, which was why he couldn’t see them at first.
“Hi there.”
Turning around to meet the new voice, Peter was greeted by a woman of shorter stature in a tightly clinging outfit similar to her partner’s, but with a deep green shading and black highlights in place of brown and yellow, and a conspicuous lack of any symbol on her chest. Her curly red hair flowed back into a carefree wave, contrasting against her companion’s artfully crafted afro dome of kinky black hair. While the first woman had a powerfully sexy figure that practically compelled Peter to service her, this one captured his attention with her impossible body shape. A slender waist that any model would envy sat atop a thick set of hips that definitely bore a thick, sculpted bubble butt. Coupled with a chest that would have been impressive enough if not dwarfed by her hips, and a slim pair of legs that swayed her rear from side to side with each step she took towards him, she possessed a figure that would have made Peter immediately cry out “Photoshop!” if he saw a picture of her online…and “admire” the picture for a little longer.
But she wasn’t a picture. She was right in front of him, having knocked the air out of his lungs with a simple glance, and she was approaching him.
“How’re ya doin’?”
Peter, occupied with trying to maintain eye contact, struggled to find the right words to respond with—or any words, for that matter. “Uh?”
“Oh, we probably frightened him,” cooed the woman in brown.
“Well, you’re the one who decided to come down in front of him,” the woman in green retorted. Her voice felt oddly familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite figure out why.
Her partner gave a dismissive flick of her wrist. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Uhh, Peter?”
“Well, nice to meet you, Peter. Listen, we’re two supers who are new around here, and we’ve been a little too busy to realize we need a place to stay. Since the only hotel in town seems to be under remodeling, we were kinda hoping we could stay with you for a night.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” the woman in green quickly added.
Peter blinked. Is this real? His brain screamed at him to accept their request, but he had to pace himself. He willed his mind to slow down, still rushing from the sheer surprise of being face-to-face with not one, but two supers, for the first time in his life. Even if they weren’t in conspicuous superhero outfits, they were stunningly attractive. Peter needed to take a moment to bring himself back down to earth. Real life isn’t porn, he reminded himself. Just because they’re staying with you doesn’t mean anything interesting is going to happen.
“No worries, we don’t mean to pressure you. It’s no problem if you say no,” the one in green said, sensing his hesitation.
“Is it really though?” the woman in brown stage-whispered, earning herself an elbow to the side.
Peter decided he had to snap out of it and speak up. “Uh, y-yeah. No, that’s fine. You’re welcome to stay. Especially if it’s just one night.” He thought for a moment, weighing the potential risks, then quickly added: “Wait, I feel like I should at least know who you are. Why are you here without a place to stay? What are your powers? …You’re heroes, right? Like, good guys?”
The two bodysuited women glanced at each other, as if to show they had expected these sorts of questions. “That’s fair,” the one in green admitted, tilting her head. “It’s only fair you get to know that sort of thing. BB, you want to go first?”
Her partner gave a look of slight distaste. “Why me?”
“Because your story is more straightforward than mine.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m here mostly because you’re here.”
“Right, but—agh, fine.” The green woman gave in, meeting Peter’s quizzical expression. “So. I don’t have a super alias right now, so let’s just call me Helen.” She faltered for an instant at that. It made Peter wonder if that was her real name. Why does her voice sound so familiar?
“It’s a bit of a long story, but I think I may be developing new powers,” she continued. “Emphasis on think. My partner here is helping me figure some of that out.”
“Name’s Catherine, by the way. Hi.” The woman in brown gave a quick wave.
Peter didn’t really follow, and needed a second to take that in. “Uh, okay. Is that a common thing? To develop new powers later?” Having lived his entire life in the small, tight-knit town of Dorfield, anything related to supers was a little removed from his life. That was all big-city stuff, most of the action concentrated in places like Metroville or New Urbem. Even occasional scuffles around the suburbs caught a lot of attention for being remarkably unusual. Villains never bothered to pay attention to anything less dramatic than a metropolis, which meant superheroes didn’t spend their time outside those cities, either.
“Can we talk while we walk?” the woman in brown interjected (Catherine, Peter thought). “I’m exhausted.” Helen rolled her eyes.
“Sure, why not.” Peter had a suspicion that, regardless of what their story was, he’d end up letting them stay. As they started trudging along the sidewalk, the corner of his eye caught the bounces of both of their bubbly butts. He couldn’t exactly get in a good look, but he figured that was for the best, for fear of popping a major erection that would be impossible to hide while they walked.
“To answer your question,” Helen said, “we’re not sure how much precedent there is for developing powers so late. With all the weirdness surrounding legal status of superheroes, there aren’t a lot of good records. So we kind of have to work it out on our own.”
“Which is also why we’re all the way out here in the middle of nowhere,” Catherine said. Helen shot her a glare. “What?”
Peter tried a nervous laugh. “It’s fine. It’s the truth, so.”
“See, Helen? He’s cool. But anyways, we’ve heard that Dorfield used to house one of the government’s secret sites for experimenting on supers back in the 60s, and there’s an old archive of info documents that someone squirreled away. A few of us supers decided that these archives should stay under wraps, in case the government wants to get back on its shady business against us. So we’re working on tracking them down first and retrieving them for safekeeping.”
All of this was news to Peter, who found it hard to believe that such volatile secrets lurked in the city he had spent his life in. It was like a whole new world was just opening up to him, hinting at the fact that maybe the reality of superheroes was a lot more intricate than people in spandex beating each other up. “So this was like, a secret assignment?”
“Secret, yes. So keep that to yourself, please. You seem trustworthy, and it’s not like we have a lot of alternatives right now, but for your sake I’d suggest you don’t do anything foolish.” Catherine bared her shining teeth in a cheshire grin. Was that a threat? Peter didn’t really have any intent to do so, but the subtle domineering energy underlying Catherine’s body language was enough to seal the deal on that.
“As for ‘assignment’—well, no,” Helen said, her tight expression contrasting against her partner’s. “We’re not working with any central agency, which is part of why we couldn’t secure a place to stay. We each chose teams to recover the caches at different locations, and Dorfield was my choice.”
“Because it gave you an excuse to get away,” Catherine snorted.
“And because it’s an important mission!” Helen shot back.
“Right, and that has nothing to do with the fact that your family can’t handle you in your…current state.”
“Is this something I should know about?” Peter raised an eyebrow.
“You asked about our powers, right?” Catherine said. “Well, the ‘BB’ here”—she pointed at the letters on her chest—“stands for ‘Booty Bomber.’”
Peter’s eyebrows rose even higher, with a general sense of what she meant. “So…”
“Super-farts!” She beamed.
He blinked, and turned to Helen. “And that makes you…?”
“Her farts have been getting insanely bad lately,” Catherine explained, reaching over and rubbing Helen’s stomach dramatically. “No, really. It’s impressive. Both smell and volume. Like, more than what is normally human. Now, we’re just still not sure whether they count as super-farts—whether they match up to mine, basically.” She flared her chest out a little after adding that last remark.
Peter was busy trying to process the strangeness of it all to notice. He pressed a finger to the crease between his brows. “Are you guys serious right now?”
“I know it might be…unusual, but trust me, all of that is true,” Helen nodded, though Peter noticed her giving her partner an aggressive side-eye. “Like I said, we’re still working it out.”
“Okay. You…okay.” With his head full of these new oddities to process, Peter stopped walking, prompting the two ladies to stop after another step.
“If this makes you change your mind about us staying with you, I totally get it,” Helen said, though her facial expression held more uncertainty than her voice.
“No—no, trust me, it’s totally fine. It’s just—we don’t see supers around here, so I’m just—I’d love to have you stay, trust me,” Peter stammered. Shit, was that too eager? “I’m just having a hard time believing that you can have super-farts as a power.”
Helen laughed. “Sure. I thought the same. But honestly, if you knew…“ A glance at her partner cut her off. “Cath, do you really have to—“
“What? I just thought maybe a demonstration would help,” Catherine said, hands on her hips.
It took Peter a few more seconds before he realized what was happening. A thin plume of what looked like smoke rose from somewhere behind Catherine, its color the same dark brown of her suit’s primary coloring. His first thought was that her suit was catching fire, but given the recent context in conversation, he came to a more realistic conclusion. The smell confirmed it once it hit him.
It first reminded him of overcooked vegetables left out for too long, with dense fumes of stale shit that sunk deep into his lungs and fought against his regular breathing. As his lungs wrestled with the density of Catherine’s butt fog, a second wave of stench hit him, this time forcing his hand to his nose. Over the undertones of the extremely heavy, methane-suffused heat was an intense stink of nasty rotting meat that attacked his nose incessantly.
Because it wasn’t a stereotypical fart blast that exploded out of her, Peter figured there was less of the smell to reach him. Just by the looks of the thin brown stream from behind her, a relatively small amount was being released every second. The volume of gas escaping from between Catherine’s buttocks was somewhat underwhelming. However, the double blow of suffocating thickness and ripe stench was still overwhelming and impressive.
After Peter realized this was a fart, the second thing to strike him was that this was an incredibly long fart. There was no sound, but the wispy brown gas floating up from Catherine’s backside seemed like it would never end. It must have been fifteen, twenty seconds since Peter first even noticed she was farting, and that wasn’t even when she actually started. He swapped between looking at Catherine, who gave him a proud grin with two full rows of teeth, and at Helen, who seemed to be masking her amusement with exaggerated annoyance.
“Gaah!” Catherine finally sighed after about forty seconds by Peter’s count, signaling the end of her toxic release. “Yep. That’s a certified Booty Bomb, alright.” She took a deep breath through her nose, and smacked her butt.
Peter still held his hand over his nose, breathing carefully. “Wow.”
“So? Does that feel like a superpower to you?”
Peter thought for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected when he heard the idea of “super-farts” from someone who claimed that was her whole gimmick, but it felt like this wasn’t it. “Okay, no offense, but aside from the fact that I could see the brown, and the fact that it was…insanely long, it didn’t feel very super.”
“What!”
“I don’t know, you’re a superhero that fights crime, right? Shouldn’t I be choking and writhing right now?” Oh god, what am I saying? Why am I saying these things?
Helen snickered. “So much for a demonstration, O great Booty Bomber.”
“Ahh, shut up.” Catherine playfully swung at Helen, then turned to Peter, eyes narrowing. “Trust me, if I unloaded even a single one of my best farts right now, you’d be lying unconscious here on the pavement. I’m just being merciful, is all.”
“She’s not lying,” Helen admitted. “Trust me, she’s holding back, and you do not want to get her going.”
Peter wasn’t sure about that. A terrible curiosity was beginning to overtake him, and he suddenly really wanted to experience their farts at their full potential. Maybe it was the idea that their flawlessly round and bubbly butts, which he hadn’t even had a good chance to admire yet, also held a potent danger to them. Practically suffocating under a gorgeous woman’s perfect booty was already a huge sexual fantasy for Peter. If that woman happened to be horrendously gassy, would that make his fantasy better, or worse…?
Blinking, he willed himself to snap out of it, and turned to Helen in an attempt to move the conversation along.
“Right, right. I’ll, uh, take your word for it. Just curious, does this mean that your farts also have color?”
“Oh, that’s another thing. Not since I last checked, no.”
“Which was?”
“About three days ago, before we left to come here.”
That caught Peter off guard again. “I thought you two got here, like, earlier today.”
“Oh, no,” Catherine replied. “We arrived yesterday morning, did a broad sweep of the town to assess the place, scouting around. Love your shop, by the way.”
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Peter thought for a moment. “I thought you didn’t have lodging here. Where did you stay last night, then?”
“We broke into an abandoned house up by the railway to sleep there yesterday. It wasn’t that bad.” Catherine shrugged. “Worst part was Helen making us hold in our farts all night.”
Helen scoffed. “Right, and I’m the bad guy for worrying about our safety?”
“Pfft.” Another dismissive hand wave. “It would have been fine.”
“Wait.” Peter stopped, new information still coming at him for him to keep up with. “Hang on. It’s like 10pm. You’ve been holding in your gas for two days?”
“Almost.”
“Jeez. Seems like that’d be…really irritating. And also probably painful.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “It’s part of the powers—we’re doing okay. It doesn’t feel great, but it’s alright.”
“Speak for yourself, Cath.”
She turned to Helen. “What! What about your stretchy powers? Like, can’t you expand your gut to hold more or something?”
“Well, you don’t see me expanding like a balloon, do you? I’m keeping the pressure locked up in the same body frame, and boy is it taking a toll.”
One last realization clicked into place for Peter as Catherine mentioned stretchiness. The masked face, the impossible yet oh-so-jaw-dropping curves, the distinctive voice…
“You’re—“
Helen found Peter’s next words as she saw his eyes. “Oh, sorry, right—“
“Elastigirl,” he breathed.
“No, no. Not right now I’m not.”
“But it is you. Right?” Helen’s lips creased into a flat smile as she gave a single nod. “Oh wow, you’re like, one of the five superheroes I actually used to follow when I was younger. Oh gosh, I—“
By chance, Peter’s eyes wandered to her curvaceous figure. Her hips were accentuated in this outfit by the black accents covering her nether regions like a pair of panties, making her thighs look stunningly thick. Peter suddenly remembered that his “following” of Helen was largely inspired by the huge posters of her and her gorgeous body, which definitely awakened something in his younger self. He felt his face brighten with embarrassment as he stared at the woman in front of him, who he had jerked off to countless times.
Helen, however, didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she wasn’t acknowledging it. “Listen, I really appreciate you saying that, and I usually love meeting fans. But like we said, we’re kind of trying to lay low right now. Plus, I don’t think my new power really meshes well with the whole Elastigirl theme, so as far as you’re concerned today: I am not Elastigirl. Understand?”
Peter nodded, still trying to shake vivid memories from his youth of searching for nude pictures of this bombshell superheroine, faked or otherwise. Hell, he’d probably still search for them these days, if he had remembered she existed.
“Good.” Helen thankfully seemed to remain oblivious. She turned to Catherine, who on the other hand was eyeing Peter quite strangely. Oh god. She knows.
“As for you, sweetie, you gotta stop subjecting innocent people to your farts.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Ugh. It was just a little one!”
“It was almost a minute long!”
“Yeah, but I was holding back. Super slow release. It dissipates real quick.”
“Fine, but still. As much as I want to let loose all the pressure in my gut, too, I’m going to keep my farting at Peter’s place to a minimum. And I think—”
“Look, uh, I don’t want to be a bad host,” Peter interjected. “So if you’ve got to let go of some farts while you’re at my place, don’t hesitate. I’ll be fine. We’ll just open a window if it gets bad.”
Oh boy. Why did I say that?
Helen turned to face him again, and shook her head. “That’s nice of you, but I really think—“
“Oh, it’ll get bad.” Catherine cut her off, chuckling. “But thank you. We’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
Oh, boy.
For the rest of the walk, Peter kept occupied answering questions from the two supers, both conversational pleasantries about his personal life and more important questions about Dorfield’s history. Catherine thankfully refrained from ripping any forty-second farts, but both he and Helen definitely caught whiffs of that same rancid meat and boiled vegetables smell every once in awhile.
Ten-ish minutes passed, and they arrived at their destination. Peter’s condo wasn’t anything fancy; hell, in Dorfield, there wasn’t much fancy to go around, and Peter preferred it that way. It was a two-floor building, and Peter lived on the ground floor. The upstairs unit had been vacant for about a year now, after the last resident got married and moved into the city. The place wasn’t huge, but he didn’t care. The solitude got to him a few times, but overall he was content with the simple slow-lane lifestyle his home afforded him.
In contrast, it was clear to him that Catherine was used to something nicer.
“You live here?” Catherine asked, earning another glare from Helen.
He shrugged. “Yeah. I spend most of my time back at the shop, anyway.” As he reached for his keys, he stopped. “Ah, shit. I just realized I only have one spare guest room. Uhh, that’s gonna be a problem, isn’t it?”
Catherine paused for a moment, then collected herself. “Eh. Can’t be worse than last night, so I’m fine.”
“I was about to say the same. Please don’t worry too much, Peter. We’ll be fine. We’re grateful enough as it is.”
PART 1
Helen removed her mask and set it on the counter as she entered. No sense in keeping that on in here anymore, she thought.
“I’ll just be in my room real quick to change and stuff,” Peter said. “Make yourselves at home.”
“Thanks again for being so kind,” Helen caught him as he was about to leave them in his living room. “I know this is honestly such a weird thing to ambush you with, but there weren’t many options and we couldn’t exactly go around knocking on every door.”
“Hey, no problem,” Peter replied before slinking behind the door.
“Well, what a relief.” Helen heaved a sigh, stretching before sinking her sculpted booty into the couch. After a long day, and especially after a rough night of sleeping without a decent bed, even her elastic body was feeling strained.
She glanced over at Catherine. Helen felt a little sorry for dragging her into this. She had originally told herself it would be a nice super-to-super bonding experience for the two of them. But taking her all the way out here, with just the two of them? Helen really felt like Catherine wasn’t really ready to take on this sort of responsibility. The way she was so nonchalant about spilling critical secrets, and how little she paid mind to potential risks in their mission, was disconcerting (to put it mildly).
Still, it was exciting and promising that she managed to find a superhero that could give her valuable insight into her newfound gassy abilities. Helen knew her farts were getting incredibly fierce as of late, ranging from eye-watering to vomit-inducing, and constantly being produced in volumes that could clear a room once every few minutes. At first, she figured her kids were just exaggerating when she let a few fly in the house. Bob only complained once or twice—though, in hindsight, the fact that he had a super-enhanced constitution slipped her mind. But when Bob jokingly asked if her colon was developing a new power, she started having stronger suspicions.
If this was a new power, first of all, she’d have to figure out how to piece that in with her Elastigirl theme, or maybe separate them entirely. But more importantly, she’d need more information about why it was developing and how to control or exploit it. And if Catherine had been working with her own super-gas for several years, she’d be the best person to have by her side.
“See? He is nice. I told you I had an eye for people,” Catherine said, interrupting her musings.
“I never doubted that, Cath. All I said was we should be careful about who we show ourselves to.”
“Relax,” Catherine said, leaning into Helen and encroaching on her side of the couch. “Dorfield has no love for the government after what they did here. I’m sure no one here is a snitch, even if they did see us. Besides…”
FFSSSSssssssssssssssssss
Without warning, Catherine leaned further into Helen and spread her enormous buttcheeks apart, opening up her hole away from her companion. With a near-silent hiss, a violent plume of brown gas shot out of her butt, lasting several seconds.
“It feels nice to let loose indoors for once,” she said nonchalantly as the brown haze blew out her backside. “No sense letting the wind take that away.”
“Catherine!” Helen groaned.
“What? He said we could,” she defended herself. “And I’m tired of holding it in.”
FRRSsssshhhhhhh
Another brown jet rocketed out, shorter this time. A near-invisible blanket of brown already began to cover the air around Catherine’s massive rear, like an atmosphere forming around a planet. These were the kind of silent but deadly farts that warned of a damn-near lethal stench to come, but in the still air of the living room, Helen would be spared for at least a few more seconds.
“Aaahhhh…” An exaggerated moan of relief slipped out of her. “Your turn, sweetie.”
“I told you, I really don’t think we should,” Helen maintained, though her resolve was already weakening. “This is a pretty small space, and I’d rather not suffocate the man who’s offered us a place to stay.”
“We’ll crack a window,” Catherine insisted.
“We both know our farts are strong enough that a window won’t matter.”
“Come on, Helen, he’s fine with it. You saw him earlier! I mean, just take a big whiff of this…”
PRRROOooooommmppt
Another burning fart blasted out of Catherine’s skintight-clad booty, where the brown and gold super suit rounded her stunningly large globes. The soft smack of Catherine’s hand against her butt punctuated the end of her fart, which this time started loud before plunging into a deep, bassy ringer.
“…and think, just how much stink is swirling around in your gut right now. Wouldn’t it feel so great to let it all out, instead of letting it fester inside?”
The brown fumes were now starting to reach Helen, and though she had smelled Catherine’s farts before, she was never quite prepared. The first wave that entered her lungs forced a choke-like response, but the ensuing breaths were much smoother. Her farts were horrid, yes, but there was a certain allure to them. Perhaps it was the danger factor involved with being so close to such toxicity, or maybe weak mind control was a part of her power that neither of them knew about. Whatever the case, even as she took in lungfuls of threateningly thick stink, she was almost drawn to it.
The idea of farting herself was already enticing enough to Helen; she didn’t need to be teased any further. As she had confessed earlier, the building pressure was almost painful by now, and a growing pressure at her backdoor suggested an absolute maelstrom of gas was waiting to flow out of her. Her super-elastic body meant that she could control and seal her anus pretty tightly, so it was essentially a matter of willpower. But she knew she couldn’t hold back indefinitely.
One more little fart in the air couldn’t hurt…right?
“Okay, Cath, you wanted it.” Before her partner could react, Helen stretched one of her arms to wrap once around Catherine’s arms and torso like a rope, keeping her spooned up right against Helen and her voluptuous butt. She felt the gas swirling and agitating, as if her gut was sensing that sweet, sweet release, and she closed her eyes to envision the imminent relief. “Ooh…”
ffffffsssssssssssshhhhhhHHHRRRRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMPPPPRRTT
Helen’s backside erupted like a volcano, with Catherine’s hips at point-blank range. An almost comical volume of gas was jettisoned from between her curvy, plump buttcheeks. The sensation was incredible. She at first still half-tried to keep to her word, slipping out a quiet hiss to keep a minimal rate of gas flowing out of her; but as her stomach churned, she let go of her restraint completely, and allowed the fart to rush into a violent, bassy tuba-like noise. Helen had no shame, no reason to hold back, and this was the consequence.
Before the fart was even halfway over, she heard Catherine stammer with what she assumed was alarm. Bit off more than you can chew, eh?
“Helen…!”
“What? Was that too much?”
“Your…your gas!”
“What about i—oh!”
Helen turned around and opened her eyes to face her present victim when she was met with a green haze filtering between their faces. It had the exact kind of weight and thickness as when Catherine farted, except a little denser, and of course a different color.
“Wait, was that…was that me?”
“Oh my god, your super farts are kicking in! I’m so excited!” A smile lit up Catherine’s face, which was immediately replaced by a grimace. “Oh, holy fuck, that smells even worse than I remember it.”
Helen chuckled, still with her arm as a restraint against her unwilling test subject. “Oh? Wasn’t this your idea? I thought you wanted me to fart?”
“Yeah, but they’re usually…oh my god, they’re not usually anywhere near this bad,” Catherine said, trying to regulate her breath.
“Well, I guess that settles that, then.” Helen tightened her grip, this time stretching her arm even longer to make more loops around Catherine’s body and wind down to her waist. “Ugh…”
BBRRRRRROOOOOUUUUUMMMMFFFFFFT
Another bassy blast exploded out of her, sounding like it bellowed out of a horn. The floodgates were now open, and Helen wasn’t about to try and close them anytime soon. It felt absolutely amazing after almost two full days of no farting. She made a mental note to hold back her gas more often before letting loose in these supermassive eruptions. If she held in her farts for more days, perhaps even a week, would the pleasure be that much stronger?
“I guess this is a new power, after all. If my farts are worse than yours, Miss Booty Bomber...”
She felt Catherine bristle against her arm at that remark. “Hey, hey. I never said that. Don’t get any ideas. The Booty Bomber is still supreme.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really. I think you’ll find I have another trick up my sleeve,” Catherine said with an evil snicker.
Helen was about to ask, but she didn’t have to. Behind her, something felt like it was…inflating? She turned her head further to get a closer look, and seeing past Catherine’s wicked smile, she saw her hips and butt somehow appear to grow larger in size. Still in their half-sitting, half-spooning position, Catherine pulled back and thrust her hips against Helen.
“What the—!?” Helen was caught off-guard and off-balance as Catherine’s now even larger butt threw a powerful weight against her, and she fell out of the couch onto the floor. In a flash, Catherine tightened the muscles in her massive buttocks and slammed into Helen, the round cushiony cheeks covering most of her face and chest.
“Mmff mmf phmm—“ Helen meant to ask “since when do you have bodymorph powers,” but under Catherine’s doughy expanse, none of her words were going to get through.
“I’d save your breath if I were you,” Catherine taunted. “Hnngh…!”
BRRPPRPRAAAAAARRROOOOOMMMMPP
This one struggled to tear out of her now even thicker booty meat, but after a second it found its opening. A potent stream of brown shot out like a cannon with pent-up fury, with a hefty bass that seemed to vibrate the walls.
For Helen, who had most of her upper body squashed between this dense butt and the floor, this rattling explosion vibrated her entire body down to its core. The fart punched her square in the chest, creating a superheated sensation that felt like it was going to melt through her suit and spread outward all over her front. Helen’s vision, already engulfed by the strained Booty Bomber outfit, was smoked out by a thick wall of brown that matched the suit’s primary color. The gas cloud settled around them like smog, and in the tight space between booty and floor, it seemed much denser than her previous outward blasts.
“Mmm, that felt even better!” Catherine gave her butt a wiggle, which felt more like a deep-tissue massage for Helen. Her powerful buttocks took turns slamming her face and chest, forcing Helen to take deep gasps of the foul yet somehow alluring odor.
“Uh, what was—oh?”
The wiggling suddenly stopped as Peter’s voice returned to the room. Helen waited for Catherine to scramble off of her, but it didn’t happen.
“Oh, uh, hi?”
Real smooth, Cath.
“Uhh…” Peter’s voice, muffled through several inches of booty, appeared highly uncomfortable. “Never mind. I guess I was warned. Um, if you need the bathroom, it’s right here.”
“Thanks, Peter,” she heard Catherine say. “And sorry about the smell.”
“It’s, uh, it’s fine?” His voice rose a bit. “I’ll just, uh, I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” A few footsteps and a door closing.
Helen heard Catherine’s soft chuckles, still seated comfortably on top of her. Stretching one of her legs, she blindly aimed it where she thought Catherine’s head would be, and kicked.
“Ow! Okay, I’ll let you up.” As she rose, her buttocks shrunk back down to their usual size—still like bubbly volleyballs on each side, plenty enough to make heads turn, but at least no longer an obviously super-enhanced size. “Okay, listen—“
“No, you first,” Helen interjected. “Any other powers I should know about?”
“Honest to God, nothing else,” Catherine smiled. “Just the power to make my bubble butt even bigger, and the hips to match. It’s great.”
“Right, and why didn’t this ever come up before?”
Catherine shrugged. “You only ever asked about my farts.”
“Look—“ Helen sighed. “If we’re going to be working together, we have to trust each other, right? And how—“
Catherine cut her off. “I know, I know. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up before. I swear I have nothing else. I just wanted to see the look on your face when I finally bust it out.”
Helen crossed her arms. “The look on my face? Sure, and that’s why you decided to bomb it with your booty without even glancing at it?”
“Hey, you started it. And, I think—“
“Technically, you started it.”
“Okay! Whatever. Now can I say something?” Catherine didn’t wait for her response. “Peter, he just came out and saw us, saw me sitting on you—“
“Uh-huh. I got that part.”
“And he—“ Catherine glanced at the door to his room. “He popped a massive boner while we were talking! I saw it right through his sweatpants!”
Helen sighed. “Right. Well, he’s a young man, and these superhero outfits have always been, well, ‘flattering’ to look at.”
“No-no, that’s not my point. Are you smelling this right now?”
Helen said nothing. Yes, the air was still thick with both of their putrid farts—though admittedly more brown than green. No way would it dissipate anytime soon. They knew that already.
“This stuff is fucking lethal, Helen! Most people would be on their knees after taking a whiff!”
“Well…”
“And he not only stood there taking it in, but got hard smelling it? Come on.” Catherine smirked. “I think we can afford to have a little fun with him.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Let’s check out his room. I want to see how airtight it is.”
“Cath, no. You’ll knock him out!“
Catherine gave another one of her dismissive hand-waves. “He’ll be fine. I’ve farted at people before. I know where their limits are, and frankly I’m pretty sure his limits are far above average.”
“Still, I’m not sure—“
“Loosen up, Helen! Besides, didn’t you used to say so yourself? ‘Relieving all that gas feels good, but what must feel even better is to have a face underneath you?’”
“I meant in the context of fighting evildoers,” Helen defended, although she wasn’t quite confident she believed it. “I’ve never farted on someone before, especially not since the new powers.”
“Well here’s your chance!” Helen stayed silent, still uncertain. “Pshh. Whatever. You can stay here if you want, ripping your super-farts for no one and polluting an innocent room, as always.” Catherine began taking steps out of the living room. “I’m going to go take my chances with what might be the first man who can actually appreciate my booty blasts.”
Helen was soon left alone to her own thoughts.
She wanted to fart. That much was absolutely certain. Almost two whole days of holding in her farts, for what she admitted was a bit paranoid, had taken its toll. At this point, there was nothing more that she wanted other than to evacuate her perpetually accumulating gas, preferably in supermassive blasts that would make her anal hole quake with relieved pleasure. What she had released just earlier at Catherine’s pestering was only a tiny fraction of what she felt inside, and now that she had ripped one blissful fart, she really, really wanted to let out even more gas. She knew she could keep going for hours with what she had saved up, just breaking foul wind endlessly, throwing out gallons and gallons of stinky air (with farts that definitely could beat Catherine’s, no doubt). She could make this room and this whole house so nasty, so foul…would being with Peter while I fart even make a difference when I’m done?
There was a twinge of shame as she re-evaluated what kind of sensual thoughts she was imagining at her farting, but she quickly waved it aside. It didn’t matter anymore. The buildup of pressure against the end of her bowels, combined with the knowledge that she was far from home and away from her reputation to maintain, made it so easy to slip into this new mindset—a mindset of a super-farter.
Hell, maybe she even had an obligation to go with her, make sure she wasn’t overdoing it with her gas. Or is that just an excuse I’m making up to justify what I’m about to…She shook her head. No, slow down, Helen.
He was pretty handsome, in a cute, deer-in-headlights kind of way. That wasn’t hard to admit, and she had no trouble with that. It wasn’t like she was planning on sleeping with him, after all. Sure, she’d be playing up the sexiness, but she was used to that. Part of superhero work was using charisma to appeal to the public, and she knew that sex appeal was one of her most well-versed assets in that regard. Changing body shape at will was a powerful gift…and she had certainly noticed Peter trying not to look at her scrumptious rear.
But sex appeal…in what comes out of it? Can I make my farts…sexy?
She grabbed her phone from one of the few functioning, sealable pockets in her suit, waited for it to find an Internet connection, and began searching.
“Oh. Oh. Huh.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peter sat at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He felt the pulsating sensation between his thighs, his heartbeat in his member as he desperately tried to rid himself of unspeakable levels of arousal. He was going to drive himself crazy if this kept up.
As much as he tried, the image of what he just witnessed in his own house was stuck in his memory. Part of him wanted to take a picture of the scene, but he also knew that he’d be unlikely to forget it anytime soon. His face still burned red from the encounter: the incredible, round, toned yet fleshy cheeks, covered in an eye-catching bodysuit with a gold wedgie, smothering a face with all their doughy glory. It was like they had plucked a scene out of his fantasies.
One aspect still was just a bit off-putting. The odor, admittedly, was horrendous. He had gotten only a small sample of it when Catherine first revealed her ability, but he had underestimated how strong it would be indoors. The rotten meat and veggie smell hung in the room like brown mist and viciously snuck into his nostrils. Even with his door closed, he couldn’t escape it. The stench leaked in, and he caught small whiffs. It was still surprisingly strong, curling his nose hairs and filling his mouth with a stale aftertaste.
Yet there was something bizarrely attractive about it all, and again he felt a desire to embrace Catherine’s nasty buns and their full potential. He couldn’t shake the idea of being right between her buttocks, feeling them caressing his face and rubbing their heat all over him. Her gas would be an added sensory thrill, a physical manifestation of the sheer power of her butt forcing their way into him. And Helen? Well, even when he was young, the way she dripped sex appeal was enough to drive his imagination wild. Her backside was just as formidable, and of course with her power, she could change her body shape at will. Using her power to make her round booty even more irresistible might seem too simple of an idea, but well, Peter was a simple man. Having his face sat on by Elastigirl was an idea that excited him, despite knowing that her farts were apparently so brutal that she was considering them a new superpower. But if Catherine already had super-farts, then Helen’s farts must be at least more bearable to take head-on, right? Maybe he could withstand it. He just wanted an excuse to try it, to be drowning in buttock meat as he—
“Hey.”
Peter jumped. Catherine was standing at the door. He hadn’t even heard it open.
“Uh, hi!” He heard his voice come out with too much force. Reflexively, he clenched his legs and put his hands in his lap to cover his raging erection. “What’s up?”
“Not much.” She casually turned around to push the door shut, and Peter got another look at her stunning backside. He could’ve sworn it looked much more massive when she was sitting on Helen a few minutes ago. Not that it mattered, anyway: even in this view, her two round globes were like a pair of bowling balls advertising their weight and power. Each cheek was definitely bigger than his head. His dick twitched just a bit, already hard from his overactive mind, as he was unconsciously drawn to what was the most amazing pair of buttocks he had ever seen. He felt an overwhelming urge to run over and thrust his face as deep as it could go into the crevasse between them, sniffing out the feminine musk no doubt ingrained into the suit after days of wearing it.
He brought his gaze to her face, where he found an amused smirk that told him he had been caught staring. Still, Catherine remained with her hands against the closed door, and possibly her back arched to show off her butt—though it might have just been her natural figure. It was hard to tell.
As he watched in guilty pleasure, he saw another billowing plume of brown smoke begin to leave her rear, its origin somewhere buried deep between the mounds of flesh he was being presented with. The Booty Bomber was farting again, and in his bedroom with no open doors or windows. Peter braced himself, but at the same time, found himself oddly drawn to it. His attraction to her backside was barely lessened at all.
“Can you hear that?” Catherine asked.
Peter shook his head no. He realized this was another dead-silent fart. He continued watching, eyes glued to the stunning display. Five, six seconds since she started. How long was she planning on making this one?
She chuckled. “But you can see it, right?” Peter nodded. “And you can sure as hell smell it. Right?”
Peter had been keeping his breaths shallow, not out of fear of breathing it in, but simply from the shock of having this stunning bombshell in his room. The moment Catherine said “smell,” however, he took the cue, emptied out his lungs, and took a deep inhalation through his nose.
The smell was more of the same. The first reaction was to take deeper breaths to counteract the thick mustiness of digested vegetables sinking into his airways and beating the oxygen out of him. Then the second reaction was to stop that immediately, as the overwhelming stink of rotten meat took its hold on his nose and mouth, leaving an acrid mark that made him immediately thirsty for a glass of water. He put his hands over his nose to abate the assault on his senses, but then cupped them gently to let a controlled amount of the foul air in. It was certainly a foul smell, but still bearable. He could get used to it.
Catherine chuckled again, the brown plume of nasty gas still plunging out of her backside. She was throwing her head back now in silent pleasure. The air around her near the door was already turning a darker shade, and he could see the cloud slowly expand towards him. Fifteen seconds now? Twenty?
“You know, that was real bold of you to call this ‘not super’ earlier. Because now we’re in your home, and you’ve got nowhere to run.” She reached one hand back, clasping it around one of her cheeks. Seeing the size comparison between her hand and her buttock gave Peter renewed insight on just how thick her hips were. It was almost comical how small her hand looked against the backdrop of her butt.
Now almost thirty seconds into her fart, she inched her hands closer to her crack, the ground zero of a perpetual detonation of gas bombs. The stream of brown gas became more pronounced as she used her hand to pry her buttocks open. The room remained silent, but the cloud of brown grew at an ever-increasing rate.
“Now this…will be a real demonstration.” She shut one eye, let her jaw hang loose, and tightened her grip on her buttcheek.
…sssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS…
The silent fart suddenly became not-so-silent as Catherine opened up her rear floodgates even wider, expanding the nozzle on her unstoppable gas valve. For the first time, Peter was getting a firsthand feel for just how much pressure was backed up inside her guts. It was like a balloon that had been tightly clamped at the end, leaking just a little bit of brown gas at a time, was suddenly released and all the remaining hot air was being blown out of her with no remorse. The fart still had no tone in its sound, but the sheer volume of gas rushing out of Catherine’s anus was enough to make a vivid whooshing noise. As Peter watched in awe, the expanding brown cloud became a brown jet exhaust, throwing out billowing fumes in a shape and size that he’d expect to see trailing a launching rocket.
…SSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHhh…
After maybe five seconds of the wind tunnel coming out of Catherine’s rear, the fart died back down again, only content with stopping its rage after the entire room was now fully fumigated with toxic, rotten-meat stink. The hot brown air swirled around Peter, who still had his hands over his face but was quickly realizing it was completely hopeless. Every breath was three times worse than what he had gotten when he first took a whiff outside. The entire inside of his head felt like it was coated in brown fog.
“Oh…Oh m—“
“Please,” Catherine cut him off, her face still scrunched in a beautiful expression of glee. “Don’t start talking until I’ve finished farting.”
Peter stared at her, incredulous. “What?”
“It’s just one fart, sweetie. Let it run its course. Just because you can’t hear it anymore…”
Peter looked down, and tried to pinpoint the source of her gas again. The hazy brown air made it harder to tell now, but sure enough, a thin column of gas was still making its way out of her butt. She had filled the room from the one corner she was standing in, and Catherine wasn’t even done with her fart just yet—her first fart since she entered.
“…Nnngh…doesn’t mean it’s over.” She gave an incredibly sexy groan as she trailed off, and then resumed her posture. Peter just stared at her as she turned her buxom figure around to face him, pulling her lips back together in a seductive smirk. “There’s still plenty more where that came from, believe me. That was an average fart, at best.”
Catherine’s eyes trailed downward until her smirk suddenly grew wider. “Oh wow, you’re actually still hard…”
Peter frantically put his hands back over his lap. In his distracted state, he had left his boner completely uncovered, and his black sweatpants weren’t helping whatsoever. “Gah…Uh…”
Catherine walked slowly over to his seat on the bed, dramatically swaying her hips from side to side. “Oh, please. I saw the way you looked at us just a minute ago, when we were outside having our…’sparring’ session. You’re not hiding anything.” Now standing over Peter, Catherine turned around again, baring her butt in all its glory. Peter couldn’t help but stare again, his voice gone from him. Mere inches from his face, the stench from the recent monstrosity of a fart lingered on her buttocks. Yet the compulsion was stronger than ever: he needed to put his face right there. Just push his neck a bit forward, and he’d be right there…
“So how about I give you a front row seat?”
Without warning, Catherine dropped her hefty hips onto Peter’s lap. He grunted under their sheer weight, which had pinned his hands against his legs. Each of the backs of his hands were now being pressed by each of her buttcheeks, and his dick between them was struggling to find its place.
“Oh, did I crush something important?” Catherine cooed, giving her booty a slight wiggle. “Don’t worry, Peter. I know what to do…”
With his hands still stuck on them, Catherine’s butt began to expand like an inflating balloon. Peter watched in amazement as his hands, dragged by the friction against her skintight suit, were slowly pulled apart from each other along the smooth surface of his pants. This made it a bit more comfortable to have her on top of him, but there was a secondary effect on his member. Now that his hands could give it some room, his dick sprung up and found a spot to nestle…right between her two cheeks. As they expanded, the gold panties-like accent of her suit outlining around her waist and thighs was lost further and further into the crevice between, giving an even tighter wedgie-like appearance and making her buttocks appear even more round and full.
“The Booty Bomber’s butt gets as big as you want it, sweetie…but we’ll settle for this big for now, huh?” Catherine gave another wiggle, which at this scale was more like an undulating fleshy ripple against her seat. Peter groaned softly at the otherworldly sensation. “Wouldn’t want you to overdose on this juicy booty too soon…It can be overpowering.”
Peter groaned again as Catherine continued wiggling. His entire lower body felt strained, but in a delightful way. His dick was being choked against the thickness of her booty meat, and he could hardly focus on anything. His hands were starting to feel numb under her weight, but he didn’t care. He suddenly wished his hands were upside-down so that he could grab handfuls of her majestic butt flesh and feel it against his palms.
Catherine suddenly stopped moving around on top of him. “Ooh, speaking of overpowering…Let’s see how you and your little friend handle another Booty Bomb, point-blank.” Peter heard a small, sexy grunt, and this time, he couldn’t bother to brace himself for what was coming.
ffffffffFFFFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSS…
It felt steaming hot as it met against his crotch, and with the limited available space between the two of them, it squeezed out with a louder hiss than before. Brown gas leaked out from somewhere deeper in Catherine’s crevasse and rolled over his thighs like a fog, spreading outward past his field of view. The air in his pants became superheated almost immediately, feeling like a rainforest had just descended upon it with all of its heat and humidity. But unlike a rainforest, Catherine was depositing another impossible dose of stink right in front of Peter’s face. This time, the sharp rotten meat odor came just as fast as the suffocating veggie stink, and Peter immediately began retching.
“Aww, is that too much for you? Because your friend here seems to disagree…” Catherine teased him, pushing herself even deeper into his crotch as his lungs violently protested against the olfactory sensation she was subjecting him to. She showed no signs of stopping this fart before it ran its course, which could be a minute away for all Peter knew. He already stopped counting the seconds.
…SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSRRROOooOOOoOoooO…
As she bent over and grinded her butt further into Peter, her anus opened up to bring out the second phase of this point-blank fart. The brown fog continued to roll across Peter’s entire body as the noise picked up into a groaning tuba sound, full of bass and rumbling against the walls. The pitch remained on its bassy tone, but dipped in and out as Catherine continued to rub herself into Peter, refusing to give his body any sort of break. Each wiggle of her hips brought the tuba tone just a smidge louder for a fraction of a second. Combined with the force of the wind flapping between her cheeks, the seductive gyrating gave Catherine’s butt flesh a hypnotizing ripple-like wave.
…ooOOoOOoOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMPPPRRRRRRPRTT
Catherine stopped wiggling as soon as she found her optimal position. As she did so, Peter gasped, feeling exactly what Catherine was doing. She had positioned her butthole directly on his shaft, and the droning bassy fart was tearing into his crotch like a toxic windstorm. Every nanosecond of her fart was now triggering a vibration against his dick. Catherine pushed even harder on her gut the moment she was in position, escalating the force of her fart like a hurricane escalating in category scaling. His dick was now in the eye of the storm, receiving the full brunt of her gas, and the sensation brought a myriad of emotions to the forefront of his mind. Stinky brown air was now enveloping Peter’s entire body, head to toe, and stuck to him like iron filings to a magnet. Every breath was agonizing, yet he wanted more. Why do I want more?
The fart finally finished, and Catherine groaned again, even louder this time. Peter was panting, jaw hung open. His vision was blurring, partly due to the absurd level of air pollution creating a smog around his bed, and partly due to his brain unable to keep up with the sensory overload. Arousal overwhelmed him, as he had never felt such a feeling against his dick before, and especially not from a woman with this level of beauty. Her butt was still on top of his hands and lap, and from this close-up angle, they were the sexiest thing he had ever encountered. At the same time, the stink and general disgust at being farted on, especially with farts of this caliber, did sit in the back of his mind. But his qualms against being treated as a fart cushion were getting weaker and weaker, as he was increasingly convinced that the woman doing it was an absolute goddess.
“You’re handling this really well,” Catherine noted. Peter remained speechless. “I actually think you’re harder after that one…” Am I?
“Before I give you another delicious blast...” she began wiggling again, to Peter’s dismay. “…Tell me how it smells.”
“Unh…Fucking…” He had to stop himself, because he was about to say “fucking amazing.” He couldn’t understand his own thoughts anymore. Why would I call it amazing? It’s a fart! It’s the fucking worst smelling fart I’ve ever witnessed! “…Fucking awful.” …Right?
“Mmm.” Catherine didn’t sound too pleased. “More details, please.”
“Like, fuck, like old cabbage and garlic and shit, and rotting meat and…fuck, it’s just so, awful, like it smells nasty, and it’s suffocating, and it’s just…god what the fuck, it smells so disgusting, and bad, and heavy, and thick, and rich, and—“
Wait. Did I just say rich?
As if reading his mind, Catherine chuckled. “Huh. Alright, it sounds like you don’t like it. So does that mean you want me to stop farting on you? Or maybe stop farting at all, for as long as we stay here? Is that what you want?” Peter was silent. “You have to tell me if you want me to stop farting. All you have to do is say, ‘Catherine, please stop farting.’ Is that what you want?”
She was teasing him. He knew that. She knew he knew, because his dick was right between them, still throbbing desperately. So he remained silent. He kept his mouth shut, breathing through his nose.
“Hmm. I guess not.” In one smooth move, Catherine reached back and shoved Peter backwards onto the bed, so that he was now lying down with only his legs hanging off. She adjusted her seat so that she was higher up on his body, her buttocks now smushing around his stomach and torso, leaving his vulnerable cock between her thick thighs. Before he could react, she grabbed his arms and clasped them around the sides of her hips, fingertips on the “V” between her thighs and midsection; at her current booty dimensions, he wouldn’t be able to reach much further.
“Until you tell me, ‘Catherine, please stop farting on me’…”
FRRRROOOOMMPPT
A short, two-second fart blasted out of her and onto his stomach. After what she had just shown him, it felt tiny; but the tuba blast still vibrated against his abdomen with stunning power. Another helping of brown gas made its way down and towards his face, where he stifled a cough.
“I’m not going to get off.”
BRROOOOOMPT
“I’m just going to keep farting…”
BRRRAAAAOOOOAAPPPT
“Until you tell me what you want.”
BRRRRRRUUUOOOAORRT
“Because you are, quite possibly, the first man…”
BRRRAAAAAAOMMMPT
“Nnngh…The first man who can handle my farts…”
BRRRT
“And I am not letting that opportunity go to waste.”
Catherine’s butt refused to let up as she talked. With every fart except for one, she barely even gave an indicator that she was about to loosen a two-second bassy stinker. She was hardly pushing at all, and the farts came like clockwork, a testament to her control. It was like a tuba playing a note to interrupt her talking every few seconds. Or maybe she was taking a break from farting every few seconds to keep talking.
“So, you tell me, Peter. Do you want my farts or not?”
Just then, Peter heard the door open.
Catherine shifted her weight. “Oh hey, Helen. Care to join me?”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Farting on Peter. Duh.”
Helen clicked her tongue. Peter couldn’t see her, but he could hear her smile in her next words:
“And you’re not even on his face. Get off of him. Let me show you how it’s done.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Catherine protested. “I’m working on breaking him into it. You wait your turn.”
“Really. How’s he doing?”
“He’s doing just great. Aren’t you, Peter?” Catherine wiggled her massive buttocks to accentuate her words.
Peter groaned again, the intoxicating gas still swirling in his nostrils and infecting his mind with dirty thoughts. The sight of Catherine’s gorgeous round butt cheeks and the brown-and-gold skintight suit wedged between them would have been enough of a turn-on, but the intoxicating fumes radiating from the crevasse added a whole new dimension to his arousal. The weight on his ribs made it difficult to breathe, but he kept sniffing through it, as if his mind wasn’t in full control of his body.
Helen sounded unamused. “I’m sure he is. That’s only because he hasn’t met my farts yet.”
“He hasn’t met my good ones yet, either.”
Helen scoffed. “Oh, please. The whole room is browned out, it looks like a swamp in here. You’ve really filled up the place, and—“ She took a deep inhale through her nose to prove her point. “—I’m hardly smelling anything!”
“Oh, bullshit. And close the door behind you, already. You’re letting all the stink out.” Catherine bounced a tiny bit with her butt, pushing another groan out of Peter as she pushed on his ribcage. His breath was forced out of him, and like it was an instinct, he took a sharp inhalation through his nose. She now had control over his breathing, and it seemed she was thoroughly enjoying it. It was such a casual action, as if he wasn’t there at all, but he could tell she was toying with her deliberately.
“Honey, when we’re done, it won’t matter one bit whether all the windows and doors are open or closed. I’m sure Peter understands that by now.” But Peter heard the door latch shut anyways. A shudder ran down his spine at the mere thought of having his entire apartment completely hotboxed by the raging flatulence about to burst out of these two women.
Catherine, apparently feeling his twitching under her, bounced again, harder this time. The air was knocked out of him, and he pulled more through his nose again, sniffing the fetid brown stink up deeply. For Peter, it didn’t even feel like breathing anymore. It was like he was replenishing the stores of marvelous gas in his airways, as if he needed to hoard as much of it in his lungs as possible. It still smelled horrendous, like rotten meat and burning garbage, but that didn’t matter to him anymore. He wanted it filtering through his nose and perverting his thoughts. He needed it.
“Oh my God,” Helen whispered. “You can hear him sniffing.”
Catherine forced his breath again with another bounce. “I know. He really wants it. Imagine how that nose would feel right in your hole as you fart…”
“I don’t want to imagine any longer than I have to. I’m about to explode,” Helen warned.
Catherine, however, was hardly listening. Peter heard her lower gut grumble over him, and he knew what was coming. Or at least, he thought.
Catching him off-guard, Catherine bounced one more time on his chest, forcing a gasping exhale out of Peter. Then, before he had a chance to recollect his breath or his thoughts, Catherine leaned forward and pushed.
ppbrprbbbbBBBBRRRRROOOOOOOOOAAAAAMMPPT
A massive fart blasted out of her rear with the sound and volume of a tuba at full blast. It was only a few seconds long, but the length hardly mattered. As Peter reeled from Catherine’s sudden push on his chest, he gasped for breath through his nose and mouth, and he immediately realized this was a fart far denser than the previous ones. The billowing gas cloud was thick and heavy, almost blinding him for a moment as it washed over his entire upper body. The rolling fumes were a much darker shade of brown than he remembered, hinting at just how concentrated this fart was. As he took deep breaths in its haze, partly forced by Catherine’s little bouncing trick, he felt the gas fight against him and exert pressure against his throat. In his lying-down position, it felt like he was drowning in the sheer density of this one single fart. It was as if her previous forty-second wispy showcase was packed into a single, tight explosion, and then that explosion was funneled directly into his face. It almost felt like he had put his mouth over a pressurized canister of foul fart gas, forcing its way inside him.
After the initial shock, like an instinct had taken over, he clamped his jaw shut and took deep sniffs through his nose. The vile air suffused his body, and it began to invigorate him. Catherine snickered, and any qualms that Peter still had were dissolving under the powerful aroma of her impossibly strong farts. It felt so bizarre, for something so rotten and disgusting to be so seductive at the same time.
“Alright,” Helen said. “You’re making me jealous. Get off of him.”
“Only if you admit my farts smell worse than yours,” Catherine retorted. “Hey, what are you—”
Peter heard footsteps, and Helen’s voice sounded much closer. “Fine, I guess there’s enough room for both of us on top of him. Isn’t there, Peter?”
“Not with my fat booty in the way, there’s not.” With a yelp, Peter’s view suddenly collapsed under a blanket of darkness. Catherine, using her butt expansion while also leaping backwards to close in on his face, had planted her butt fully over his entire head in one swift motion.
“MMMFPH!”
“Ugh, Catherine…” Helen began to complain, then stopped herself. “Actually, you know what, I’ll make you a deal.”
“Uh, Helen?” Under Catherine, everything seemed muffled. Her butt cheeks were engulfing Peter’s entire head, making it difficult to even tell which direction was up any more, let alone figure out what sounds were coming from where. He did, however, feel Catherine shift her posture as Helen said:
“Since you won’t give me Peter’s face to fart in, I’ll just use yours.”
“Wait, Helen, wait—“
Everything stood still for a few seconds for Peter, who was still trying to find enough air—fart-tainted or not—to fill his lungs. His erection continued to throb as he found greater pleasure every second in being nearly suffocated by the most formidable pair of buttocks he’d ever seen.
“Oh, Helen…” The silence broke as Peter heard Catherine sniff deeply. “It’s so bad, but it’s so good…”
Helen chuckled. “The silent ones…they feel so amazing coming out, don’t they…”
Peter lay helpless as he heard the incredibly erotic scene play out just above him. In this moment, he wanted more than anything to be able to breathe in Helen’s farts as well. The stink of Catherine’s bassy blasts still lingered strong in the fabric right on his nose, but the stale after-stench was wavering. He felt greedy and desperate, to want to take in everything from two first-class booties at once, but he didn’t care anymore. Nothing but their super-farts mattered. He wanted their gas to fume out his entire existence.
“Admit it. It’s so much stronger than yours.”
“Like hell it is.”
“Mmm. Maybe you need a bigger helping of it.”
ffffffrrrsssssssssssssssssss…sssssssssffft
“Oh my Gooooood…”
Peter could hear this one. It sounded powerful, almost like hearing the winds of a brewing storm from a basement. The foul hurricane battered Catherine’s eager nose and mouth with a violent whoosh. Catherine was busy taking it in, letting short moans escape her lips between breaths; and as she leaned forward to bring her head even closer to the source, the subtle shift in her weight gave just a little extra breathing space for Peter under her. His vision returned a bit, the brown and gold wedgie now far enough away for his eyes to focus on.
More importantly, however, he could now draw a full breath again. When he did, his nose immediately alerted him to a new allure to the stench hanging thick in the air. A hazy green mist joined the brown fog hanging around his head, and Helen’s “silent” farts were now reaching his nose in full force. This was a wholly new brand of festering stink compared to what Catherine had been unleashing. Helen’s gas reeked of a classic eggy, sulfuric stench, mixed with beans and the sharp sting of something like onion or garlic. For a moment, the new smell overwhelmed Peter. After the initial shock of the sharpened sulfur smell though, he felt ready, and began sniffing. He took slow, deep breaths to take in the double dose of—
BRRAAAAARARRRRRMMMPPT
Without warning, Catherine’s round butt dropped another bassy bomb onto Peter’s face. The stink of rotten meat surged into his nose, catching him off guard again; apparently, he could only get used to one type of smell at a time. But he wasn’t going to be content with his body refusing to accept what his mind so desperately wanted. He forced a cough to clear up his lungs and his brain before resuming deep breaths, reveling in the stink that was, unbelievably, getting worse.
“Hey, you’re wearing him out before I get a turn!” Helen shook herself out of reverie as he coughed, slight concern creeping into her voice.
“Oh, he’s not going to wear out. He’s still sniffing strong.”
Peter felt a sudden rush of cooler air over his body as Catherine rose from atop him. His eyes refocused and met Catherine’s dazzling gaze. She was on her knees, which were on either side of his chest, and her mesmerizing buttocks still hung right in front of him. Her body was turned so that she could look down at him, and her gaze was one of pure hunger, signaling that she was far from done with him.
Behind her, Peter saw Helen in a similar pose, but standing at the edge of the bed instead, with her own butt eye-level with Catherine. Her face showed more amusement, with lips pursed to hide her smile. He followed her impossible elastic anatomy to find that she was using her arms as a collar for Catherine, taking a break from pulling her head deeper into the expanse of Helen’s gassy booty. Gripping tightly into that beautiful butt flesh were Catherine’s own fingers, giving her leverage to both plunge herself into Helen’s butt as well as shove her own dense buttocks into Peter’s face. He couldn’t believe this had been happening right in front of him, all while he himself was blasted with gas.
“Oh wow, he’s still crystal clear.”
“You’re doing amazing, Peter. Goodness, I’m so glad we met you.” Catherine grinned at him, eyes still full of passion.
He smiled back, though it wasn’t really voluntary. In his arousal, it was hard to keep his thoughts straight.
“Please keep going,” he heard himself mumble. “Please keep farting. Please.”
“Try not to knock him out before I even start with him, Cath,” Helen said, laughing. “I don’t think he’s right in the head if he wants us to keep going.”
“Honestly, I don’t think I could K.O. him if I tried.”
“Oh?” Helen wiggled her butt and drew Catherine in closer with her makeshift collar. “Are you conceding that your farts are weak?”
“No!”
“What does Peter think?” Helen turned her gaze back to Peter, whose face was still spared from Catherine’s doughy weight for now. “Whose farts are worse: mine, or Catherine’s?”
“Hey, wait a m—“
Helen shushed Catherine, cutting her off. “I’m asking Peter.”
Peter met Helen’s eyes, which told him the answer she wanted to hear. She was taunting him, daring him to give her that chance. Her face was lighting up with glee even as he watched her. She knew what he was going to say, and they both wanted him to say it.
“I…I haven’t had one of yours…on my face…yet.”
“Then let’s fix that.” Helen wasted no time, pulling Catherine completely off the bed and taking her place. Before he even registered what was happening, Peter found himself staring up at a green-and-black pair of buttocks hovering right over his face, jiggling as she swung her hips side to side. Helen reached back and gave one cheek a ringing smack, leaving it to wobble with hypnotizing waves for a few seconds. Then, just as his attention from her cheeks waned, she sat down. With surprising accuracy, she landed her puckering hole right onto his nose, leaving most of his mouth uncovered while the rest of her booty engulfed the top half of his head.
The pent-up stink in her crack met his mind first. It was an insidious stench, creeping into his nostrils whether he wanted it or not (though by this point, he certainly did want it), and turning his head inside out as it seemed to rot his lungs. The sulfuric overtones felt less like eggs and more like brimstone now that he was taking it right from her hole, burning the tips of his nose hairs. Foul, dark green gas lingered around his face, and he swore he could taste it as he exhaled out of his mouth—a bitter taste that felt like ash.
“Go on, Cath. You can use my face if you’d like.” Helen brought her voice down to a husky tone. “It’s only fair.”
“Honestly, I prefer using his.”
“Well I guess we’ll have to share.” Helen twisted her waist side to side, gently massaging Peter’s head with her buttocks. “But first, he needs to settle our debate.”
“Well fart on him already! Listen to him, he’s practically eating your suit with his nose!” Catherine was clearly worked up, and Peter could hear both her eagerness and annoyance at having to “share.”
“Mmmm.” Helen continued wiggling gently, pushing Peter into the mattress to a silent rhythm. “How are you doing down there?”
“Please…” Peter managed. “Please just…do it…”
“Hmm. If you can talk, that means I’m not doing it right.” Helen teased him for another few seconds, still rocking her hips left and right. Peter lay exasperated, listening to her suit twist and bend all around him. The doughy flesh of her butt pressing into him seemed to turn softer, and as he lay there, he felt it slowly mold around his entire head and shoulders.
“Oh, that is so cheating.” Catherine’s voice sounded more muffled than before, like there was an extra layer between her and his ears…
“What?” Helen said with an exaggerated air of innocence. “I’m just making the work easier for him. This way, there’s nowhere for my farts to go but his lungs.”
“Oh come on, I didn’t use my powers to give myself an edge.”
“I’m pretty sure you did.”
“But that’s…that’s different! It was just for style points. I can’t turn myself into a dutch oven!”
“Oh, is that what this is called?”
Feeling around with his arms as best he could, and listening to the conversation, Peter pieced things together and realized Helen had pulled a nasty trick with her malleable body: she had shaped her hips and legs into some kind of near-airtight cover over his entire head. Her stunning rear was still plastered against his nose, but around his sides, it felt like she had inflated her thighs to seal up any space where the foul air could escape. His jaw was locked closed by what felt like her calf pushing up against it, and he could do nothing but breathe. He could hardly even squirm. He wasn’t sure how much this would affect her imminent gassing, but the wicked part of him really wanted to find out.
“This is bullshit,” Catherine was saying. “What a cheater.”
Helen wasn’t listening. “Ooh, Peter, you ready now? I can feel a good one bubbling up…Just speak up if it’s too much for you, okay?”
Peter, of course, couldn’t respond with her legs sealing his mouth. The three of them all knew that. Helen chuckled, then suddenly went quiet.
BRRRRMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmffffsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSRRRRT
Helen’s deathly fart raged for what felt like an eternity, opening with a heavy bassy note that vibrated Peter’s very existence before plunging into the “silence” of another windy rush, only picking back up for the final few seconds back into the audible bass range. From the first breath he took, Peter was overwhelmed by the stink of sulfur being injected into his nose without mercy. Helen’s booty never relented, her gas plowing into his face with an impressively constant volume every second. With every breath as it droned on, a fresh batch of horrendously powerful stink made its way through his hungry windpipe, and even as his brain commanded him to gape his mouth open and try to fight to escape, he was unbearably aroused.
The makeshift hotbox of Helen’s thickened thighs and hips did their trick, as Peter failed to notice the fart had run its course for another several seconds. As Helen sat on top of him, letting him fester in her stink, Peter almost couldn’t tell if she was still dropping bombs or not. The cloud of gas swirling around what little space Helen had allowed was completely saturated, and it almost smelled the same as when she was still farting. He lay there, mouth still clamped shut, feeling Helen wiggle gently against his face, for minutes that felt like hours. He fought to keep breathing through the swampy, thick green stench, and his hips writhed against his will as his erection throbbed intolerably. With just a few strokes, he probably would have climaxed right there. But instead, Helen just chuckled to herself, leaving him to bask in her glorious fart.
After another eternity, Peter felt Helen’s legs release him, and she rose. His eyes struggled to adjust.
“So who wins?”
“Uhh…” His cock refused to let him think. It certainly didn’t help that each new fart delivered to his face was a new high for him, constantly upping the ante against his previous understanding of what delirium could tear out of a woman’s butt. As a result, he could barely remember what Catherine’s farts smelled like, even though they were only a few moments ago.
“I…honestly have no clue.”
“What!”
“Well, then.” Catherine suddenly came forward from her place on the sideline. “Sounds like he needs both at the same time.”
Helen looked pleased by that idea. “Ooh, excellent. Cath, come here.”
Peter continued to lie motionless, with still too much blood in his loins and not enough in his head. He watched the ceiling dance in front of him, swirls of vivid brown and green gas fighting to color his vision and infiltrate his ever-hungry nostrils. He wondered if his room was ever going to stop smelling like this…and then wondered if he minded.
“I guess we should have started off by sharing,” Catherine cooed.
Helen rolled her eyes. “That was what I said, except you wouldn’t get off of him.”
“Oh, right…” Catherine grinned. “But come on, admit it. Once you’ve got a sniffer under you, it’s hard to stop.”
As they spoke, Peter watched them creep up to either side of his resting body. With Catherine on his left, and Helen on his right, they each began to lower themselves onto his face, taking care to meet in the middle as their plump buttocks touched.
“No more teasing, Helen,” Catherine said, pointing an accusatory finger. “I’m not holding back, so if you start teasing, you’ll be the one missing out.”
“Fine, fine.” Helen laughed. “I promise.”
She shifted her weight one last time, finding her place. Each woman’s gorgeous bubbly butt was far too large to fit comfortably on one half of his head, so they jostled slightly to find their balance atop him. Instead of compressing him into the bed under him, most of their weight was kept off, instead using his head and upper body as a platform to align their volatile gas cannons at his face. As a result, there was plenty of breathing room, and his neck had its full range of motion. Nonetheless, their butts comprised nearly all of his field of vision, and he knew that what came next would be an olfactory sensation of a lifetime.
“Ready?”
“Always.”
“Three…”
“Two…”
“One!”
BBRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOORMMMMMMRMRRRT
PPPBRRRAAAAARRPRRBRRAAAAAAAAAMMMMMBRRBRRRPT
Catherine’s brown booty took the lead, with Helen following just a second later. Together their farts blew into Peter with unrelenting power for well over thirty seconds. Without his nose wedge into the crack to keep either of their buttocks spread open, their farts struggled a bit to pass through the full several inches of booty before they met the air. The bass in both of their releases rattled forcefully, creating a stunning tuba duet of sorts. Green and brown fumes rolled out from each crevasse like a tidal wave crashing into him. Each pair of buttcheeks, cupped by the superhero outfits that formed a conspicuous wedgie against their cracks, vibrated like they had just been smacked as the farts blasted out from between them. For Peter, it all happened in slow motion, and he watched the two jaw-droppingly framed butts hypnotically undulate while they threw out their blissful, toxic release of brown and green.
Even if he wasn’t fully face-to-butt with either of them, there was no escaping the deathly cloud that was now encircling him. With double the concentration of gas, his lungs almost threatened to give out entirely on his first intake, refusing to even try to parse what the hell had just entered him. Helen’s sulfuric stink and Catherine’s rotten meat stink pummeled the inside of his nose, combining to form a lethal miasma that smelled literally inhuman, like something that was designed in a lab rather than produced in two stunning ladies’ guts. But for Peter, it didn’t matter that he could barely even figure out what it smelled like. His hips bucked again, begging for a release as his cock throbbed, rocking his upper body as he stared into their voluptuous backsides.
“That was good…” Helen mumbled, her eyes still rolled into the back of her head.
“Who says I’m done?” Catherine grabbed Helen’s hand, and Peter watched as they bore down, giving him no time for a break.
BBRRRRRRUUMMMPT
GGRRRRRAARRMMT
GRRRRRRRRAARRRLLT“Oh, fuck…” BBRRRAAARRRLLTGRRRAAARRRMMT
PRRAAAPT“Yeees…”
FRRRRRRRRAAAAPPTFFSSST“Oh my—“ PPPRPRAAAAAAARRRRRRLT
“Mmmmh!”FRRRSSSSSSSSssst“Hah, yes Helen…”BRRRRSSSSSHHHH
PRRRSSSSSSSssssshhhh“Hoo…”PRRRRRRRRRTSSSSSSSSSssssssssst
FFRSSsssssssssSSSSST BRRRRRRRRAARRRT
A gassy barrage followed, destroying Peter’s face as the two women fully unloaded their payloads. Catherine took the lead again with two quick farts in succession, and Helen took the hint right away, clamping down on her stomach with her other hand to follow suit. A series of bassy tuba farts blasted Peter, with even the shortest one lasting five seconds, and barely a second between each one. As their pace picked up, within minutes they were farting literally nonstop. When one of them moaned with the end of a rancid blast, the other would still have her head reared mid-fart, and by the time she finished, the first would have begun her next detonation. Their bombardment scorched Peter, whose face was ground zero for it all, with its incessant heat and stink. The air barely resembled air at all, and with the combined infusions of brown and green toxicants, looked and smelled more like a polluted swamp.
Towards the end of their dozens and dozens of farts, their bassy tones turned into hisses, and an extra layer of disgusting stink piled onto the ungodly odor suffusing Peter’s entire existence. Every breath was agonizing, yet at the same time, it pumped him full of adrenaline and arousal. If this somehow broke him and it was the only thing he could ever smell again, he would be in permanent bliss. It was a high unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
Above him, Helen and Catherine collapsed into each other’s arms, seemingly content with the enormous fallout they had unleashed. They sighed, taking deep breaths of their work, and laughed.
“Now that is teamwork,” Catherine beamed, wafting a hand around her nose. “Hoo, that is so bad.”
“How is he still alive...” Helen wondered aloud, earning a rancorous laugh from Catherine.
“Good question, but I don’t think I care right now.” Catherine stretched, arching her back and adjusting her seated pose over Peter. “Hey big guy, ready for round 2?”
“Hey, wait, wait.” Helen stopped her. “He has to answer: whose is worse?”
Peter forced himself to slow his breathing and respond. “Neither. Both are amazing.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Pshh, we know that. But that wasn’t the question.”
Helen eased her weight off of Peter as she spoke. “You know what, I think he needs a minute to think on it. Yeah?” She didn’t wait for a reply, instead getting off the bed. We’ll give him a minute…why don’t you meet us in the living room?” She glanced at Catherine.
“Sure,” Catherine said, taking the hint. “Don’t keep us waiting too long, though, Peter…I certainly have a lot more to offer.”
Catherine got off of Peter as well, who was now in a total dazed state. He sank his head back into the bed, trying to keep his mind from exploding into a million dirty thoughts.
“One more thing…”
Peter picked his head up again, and saw Helen bent over at the doorway with Catherine beside her. Helen was putting her green-clad round globes on full display a few feet away, practically filling the full width of the entrance. Her hands were on her knees and the most seductive expression was on her face with half-lidded, fluttering eyes. She bit her lower lip, raised her eyes to the ceiling, and…
BBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRMMMMMPPPPPT
A green plume of gas billowed into the already heavily fogged room, doing little more than tinting the air a slightly darker tinge. Peter watched as it slowly made its way over to him.
“Ahhhhh…I’ll leave you with that to consider,” Helen taunted, wiggling her hips one final time to punctuate another one of her massive blasts, and sashayed into the hallway.
“Oh, fucking—“ Catherine, who was standing right next to her when she fired her cropduster, looked at Peter on the bed and smirked. “Here…” Not to be outdone, she pointed her booty into the room, bent even lower with her hands along her calves, and pushed.
BBBBBRRRRRRRRFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH
Mimicking her competitor, Catherine added to the swirling stink with a brown smog of her own, though her bassy tone fell short and turned to a hiss partway through. The moment she finished her fart, she spanked herself, fled the room, and quickly closed the door, snickering.
Peter let his head drop back down to the bed. What the hell do I do now? His mind was still racing, and he could barely think straight.
His hands found the answer for him.
PART 2
Catherine’s heart pounded with excitement. It had taken a lot of focus to keep her composure, but in the precious window now where Peter was alone in his bedroom and Helen was alone up ahead in the living room, she took a moment to calm herself down. She silently thanked Peter’s apartment for being decidedly not open-concept, and in the short hallway where neither of them could see her, she began to reflect.
Since her powers first developed, she very quickly had to learn a few things. First was that she couldn’t afford to rip farts whenever and wherever she liked; not only was she often the target of ridicule growing up, but also, as her powers grew stronger, there was always the risk of collateral damage. Second was that she could hold in her farts almost indefinitely, but when she finally let loose, it was one of the best feelings in the world. Countless times she had hotboxed herself in her own room, sometimes with a blanket to dutch-oven with, as she masturbated furiously to the pleasure of gargantuan winds rocketing out of her backside. She had learned to manipulate her buttock size and shape at will, allowing her limitless modifications on the sensual stimulation she could bring herself. This was what she called her first “awakening,” and it rocked her life.
Later, as she developed her career as a super and became an unabashed super-farter, she learned that whatever pleasure she could bring herself by farting was magnified tenfold when there was a face under her. Her first victim was a knife-wielding mugger in some shady back alley, and after incapacitating him with one initial wave of horrendous stink, she wrangled him right under her super-booty and farted into his helpless lungs. It was an entirely new sensation; the writhing and squirming against her plump butt with every intoxicating spurt of brown gas made her feel elated unlike anything else. She knew sadism was highly discouraged in the superhero line of work, but she just couldn’t help it sometimes. Feeling her farts rattle against another person’s face was her second awakening, and whenever she was out on patrol, she longed for an opportunity to feel it again.
What just transpired in Peter’s room could be considered a third awakening. Whenever she farted into someone’s face, it was always a criminal of some sort that she needed to interrogate, or knock out, or humiliate. Their unwillingness, the begging and gagging and screaming, tended to distract from the ecstasy of blasting noxious fumes point-blank directly into their airways. But with Peter, finally, it was different. She could fart again and again into his nose and mouth, and he actually wanted it. He wanted more, always more; never complained, hardly gagged, and actually sniffed it up with a full raging erection. He actually begged for it to continue, rather than to stop. And that was the “missing piece” that Catherine needed. For someone to be so receptive to her deadly farts was enough of a pleasurable sensation for it to be a new awakening, and she needed to pursue it in full.
Not to mention—as much as she wanted to be sitting on Peter all day and night and performing all sorts of dirty, delicious, fart-filled acts on him in total privacy—there was another allure about having Helen with her. She and her now-confirmed gassy superpowers added a new dimension to the pleasure of facefarting. With Helen, Catherine could finally get a sense of what witnessing a facefarting was like, smells and all. She wasn’t used to Helen’s stink like she was to her own, and watching Peter react in real time while she breathed in her own share of Helen’s farts was a profoundly pleasurable experience, in a voyeur-esque way.
In short, this was something Catherine could get used to.
With a semi-normal heart rate, she made her way over to the living space, where she found Helen sitting with her knees together, leaning over to one side on the couch. She was flipping through a media feed of some sort on her phone. As Catherine approached, she noticed the toxic green gas billowing out of her at a steady pace, but it wasn’t until she got right next to her that she could hear the squeaky hiss.
…sssssssssssssss…
Helen, still farting, barely acknowledged her except to raise her hips just a bit more off the couch and point her volatile butt in Catherine’s direction. The rotten, eggy stench filled her lungs, and though she was getting used to it, she knew her superpowered status was the only thing keeping her from retching uncontrollably.
“I honestly do think your farts are getting worse every minute,” she said, wafting a hand over her nose—a futile gesture, but she hoped it would help a little.
“Are you conceding?” Helen said, still not even looking up from her phone.
…ssssssssssssssssssss…
“Not yet.”
“Mm. I can’t really tell if the smell is getting worse, but I’m definitely bloating up even faster than before. Honestly, I feel like I could fart forever. Any time I loosen some pressure, it builds right back up.”
“I can tell.” Catherine gestured to the steady green stream pointed her way.
“Yeah. It’s been a few minutes since I started.”
…sssssssssssssssss…
“It’s probably good for you that way. You don’t want to run out of gas halfway through a fight or something.”
“Has that ever happened to you?”
Catherine thought for a moment. “Not yet, no. But I’m afraid it will someday.”
Helen nodded with understanding. “Every super has that fear. That their powers will fail when they need it most. It takes awhile to overcome.”
…ssssssssssssttt
Helen’s forever-fart sputtered to a stop, with the kind of noise that made it clear she could start it right back up if she wanted to, but she forced a halt for a reason. She finally looked up from her phone with a quizzical expression.
“What…what is ‘twerking?’”
Catherine sighed. Sometimes she forgot Helen was middle-aged.
“It’s when you—“ She paused. “you know what, a demonstration might make more sense.”
Catherine rose from her seat and slid over in front of Helen, her butt on full display. For extra flair, she tapped into her abilities and expanded her rear a few inches bigger.
“Watch and learn.”
With palms on her knees, Catherine began twerking—a maneuver she used to love doing when she was younger and still coming to terms with her body and powers, but hadn’t done in awhile. Like riding a bike, however, the familiar motions fell into place, and after a few seconds her buttocks caught a silent rhythm.
She heard Helen give a hollow laugh behind her as she stopped and rose.
“I really am getting too old for this,” Helen said. “I don’t know why I bother trying to keep up with social media.”
“It’s good for any superhero to keep up with the times,” Catherine replied.
Helen rolled her eyes. “Easy for you to say. Is this what people do now?”
“It was more popular a few years back. It’s like a dance move that caught on for a bit.”
“Well, you seem pretty good at it. It does wonders for your booty.”
“Thanks. I used to do this a lot. I told myself I was practicing gas release, but honestly it’s just for some dumb fun.”
“Gas release, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. Check this out.” Catherine turned around again, resuming the rhythmic wobbling; except this time, she loosened her anal hole and pushed out a simmering fart.
FRR—FRR—FSS—SSS—SSS—SSS—SSR—RSS—SSH—SHH
With every bounce of her booty, a small jet of gas escaped, throwing vibrant brown plumes one after another. She knew she was aiming her near-silent blasts right into Helen’s face, but the heavy stench of her last silent several-minute fart still in the air told her it was a little “payback.”
BRR—RRR—RRR—RRB—RBRR—BBRR—RSS—SSS—SSH
With the second wave of gas, she heard Helen start groaning at the stench, and Catherine couldn’t help but smirk to herself.
“Okay, I get it,” Helen said, smacking Catherine’s butt with an outstretched hand. “You can stop now.”
Catherine briefly entertained the idea of ignoring her, but decided to hold back. “You should try it,” she said, turning. “It feels pretty nice, and unlike anything else.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “You know what? Sure. Why not.” She got up, rubbing her buttocks in anticipation. “But don’t judge me too harshly.”
Catherine laughed. “No promises.”
With a little coaching on form, Helen began twerking her own booty, and to Catherine’s surprise it was remarkable for a first-timer. The undulating motion sent ripples across her ample rear, giving a mesmerizing appearance that Catherine rarely got to see anywhere other than a mirror.
“Hey, you’re pretty good!”
“Thanks, though I think having a rubber body helps.”
BBR—RRP—RPRR—RRR—RRT
“Oop! Sorry, they’re just slipping out.”
Catherine clapped in delight. “Yeah, twerking sometimes does that. Just let ‘em rip, Helen!”
GGRRR—RRB—RRR—BBR—RRR—BRBR—RRRR—RRRR—RGGRR—BBRB—RBR—GRRT
Helen immediately responded with a stomach-turning machine-gun fart, and at point-blank range behind her, Catherine was getting the front-row view. The mini-earthquakes rippling over her cheeks and the fumes rocketing out from between them was a sight she had seen in the mirror before, but never from another person. Helen was right: it was a remarkable image, the visible gas being thrown out in plentiful clouds like clockwork with every bounce. The bassy tone trotting in and out with the movement of her booty was just the icing on the cake.
Without really thinking, Catherine dropped to a knee and dipped her head into the slowly expanding cloud of brown stink, pecking a kiss on Helen’s right cheek.
Helen was caught by surprise. “Oh! I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Catherine, in mild shock at what she just did, let her mind take the reins. “And why is that?”
“You’ve seen what this booty can do…”
GGR—RRR—BBRR—RRRBRR—RRR—GGRR—RRRT
“Or should I say smelled?”
Another rush of gas blew into Catherine’s face as Helen resumed twerking. Her form was definitely getting better...
“It smells amazing, Helen…” Catherine heard herself say.
“Don’t you mean awful?”
Catherine giggled, high off the fumes. “Same thing.”
An idea wormed its way into Catherine’s head. Standing up, she turned and planted her own butt right against Helen’s, bouncing cheek against cheek. She felt Helen hesitate for a moment before pushing back with her own gentle thrusts.
“I need some relief too, hon,” Catherine said. “Let’s see if I can’t knock you off your feet.”
With one final thrust, Catherine gave herself just a few inches of clearance between their two magnificent butts, and brought herself down to a twerking pose again. The gas writhing in her gut found its exit as she bounced her mesmerizing hips, and she hoped Helen could fully appreciate it.
BBGG—GGRBR—BBRR—GRRR—RRGR—GRRR—RRRR—AAR—RAAA—AAA—AAR—RRMB—MMBR—RRT
GRRR—RRG—BBRR—RRA—AAR—RR—RRRRT
“Hoo, fuuuck…”
BBR—RGRR—RRRR—AAAR—RRRR—GRRGRM—MRR—RRR—RRPP—PPPPT
Without a word, Helen bent over and added to the thick miasma between them with her own stink. She fired back shamelessly, the competitive nature from earlier creeping back into her as she delivered her own gassy retribution in a series of quaking fart bursts from her twerking butt.
Catherine felt the jets of gas batter the surface of her own butt, heating her cheeks and her loins considerably. She giggled, ready to blast a second barrage.
PRPP—PRPRP—RRRR—GGR—RRGR—RRG—GRRR—AAA—AAAR—RMRR—RRRPR—PPT
BBRR—RRR—RRFFF—FFFF—FFFRRS—RRSH—SSHH—SHH—SSSFF—FFRRR—RRRRA—AARR—RRRT
PPRPR—PRRR—RRR—GRRRM—MMRR—RRR—RRT
Helen fired back almost immediately, giving Catherine no breathing room. The turn order now violated, the two began unleashing hellish farts through booty bounces and laughing all the way. The air was getting hazier, but Catherine knew that farting while twerking severely limited how much gas she could pump out in the same span of time. They were destroying the air quality, but considerably slower than in the bedroom. She planned to change that with one gut-wrenching fart she now felt building up.
BBBBBRRRRRRR-RRR-R-RR-R-RR-RRGGRGR-RGG-GGGR-RRAA-AA-AA-RAR-RRRAR-RRR-GGRG-RRRLT
Changing up her twerking style, she switched to a more fast-paced movement alternating between her left and right cheeks, practically vibrating her flesh. Some would argue this wasn’t twerking, but as far as she was concerned right now, she knew from experience that this style would let her blast a fart out with little resistance. With fists clenched on either side of her hips, Catherine bellowed out a true monster fart with the bass of a vindictive tuba, throwing terrifying volumes of brown that rolled over Helen’s entire body and invaded her lungs.
“Gaaaahh…”
The moment she finished, Catherine heard coughing. “Oh fuck, it’s actually even worse out here.”
She opened her eyes to face Peter, who was standing at the edge of the room.
“Hey, Peter,” she said slyly. “Glad you could join us. Want to do us a favor and put your face right here?” She pointed at the space right between her butt and Helen’s—the eye of the gaseous storm that only two super-farters could produce. Catherine’s latest bomb had turned the space more brown than green, but she knew it wouldn’t last.
She saw Peter swallow. “Only if you promise to keep twerking?”
Catherine looked at Helen. They met eyes and laughed. “Sure.”
Peter wasn’t hiding his eagerness anymore; there was really no point. Within seconds, he was sitting with his back propped up against the couch. The two pairs of lusciously fat globes loomed against his head; from Catherine’s view, it looked like their butts were about to eat him alive. She planted her hands on her knees in gleeful preparation.
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Ooh, here it comes…”
BLAA—AARR—GGRR—RRG—BBRR—GRRRR—BBR—BRBRBR—BBB—RRRR—RRRT
GGRRM—MRR—BRRR—RRGGR—RRBBB—BBB—BRRRR—RRRR—RRRLL—LLLT
A cacophonous barrage of rapid-fire farts blasted Peter from two directions. A festering cloud of horrid green and brown engulfed what few inches lay between Catherine’s toned booty and her partner’s, and for several seconds, the air around Peter’s face became completely opaque. Peter’s features were totally fogged out, obscured from Catherine’s view entirely as the impossibly rich, tortuously dense stink of their combined flatulence bombarded and surrounded him. Catherine looked on with mixed pride and arousal, and turned to see a similarly blissful expression on Helen’s face.
Catherine was impressed yet again as Peter took deep, slow lungfuls of their disgusting stink, hardly even gagging once. Remarkable, considering she still felt the urge to gag against Helen’s farts alone. The two of them combined? If Peter was an average person, he would be far from conscious. But he took it all in, and after several breaths, he cleared the dark, vision-obscuring fog of pure farts with only his nose and mouth. God, that’s so hot.
Catherine waited until he seemed to bring his breathing back to normal. “So, with all that huffing of our nasty farts, did you make your decision?”
“Huh?”
“Who has the worse gas? Helen, or me?”
“Oh, uh…” Peter scratched his head. “I don’t know. I think I’ll need more samples.”
“Hmmph.” Catherine played along, trying her best to keep a devilish smile off her face. “Fine. But this time, Helen, you’re going first.” Without warning, she grabbed Peter by the hair with one hand and Helen by the thigh with the other, and firmly planted his head against her butt with one fierce motion.
“Go ahead, take a good whiff of Helen gorgeous booty.” The smile creeped back into Catherine’s lips as she held Peter there. “Smell how rancid her farts are…”
BRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMPRPRRRRT
“Mmmmm…yeah, that’s right, take your deep breaths of her nasty fart. Isn’t it so stinky?”
“Mmmmfff…” came Peter’s reply.
“Yeaaah. Oh, I love the bassy ones, Helen.”
“Then you’ll love…”
FFRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOORRRRRRRRRRMMMPP
“…Aahhh…that.” A tuba blast roared against Peter, and just based on the residual gas Catherine could see and smell, this was one hefty fart.
“Mmmm…ooh, Peter, are you enjoying Helen’s gifts for you?” Catherine tore Peter away from Helen’s scrumptious hips, earning a quiet complaining grumble from both of them. “Why don’t you rate that one on a scale of 1–10?”
“Unhhh…four?”
“Four!?” Catherine shouted with mock anger before Helen could herself. “Helen, come on. I know you’ve got stinkier ones than that. Let’s see if you’ve got some eights and nines in you.”
“He really wants ‘em nasty, huh? Alright, Peter, this is what you wanted…”
Helen groaned for several seconds, clearly working up a powerful gas bomb. Catherine rammed Peter’s head as deep as it would go; she was pretty sure Helen was molding her booty around his face again, making it squishier so that Catherine could get him as far up there as possible. She put her other hand on Helen’s midriff to get some better leverage, cramming Peter’s airways directly against her gas valve.
Helen yelped at the pressure on her stomach, but then clasped her hand around Catherine’s. “Ooh, you’re giving me an idea.” As Catherine watched, still mesmerized by the doughy plushiness of her perfect backside, Helen stretched her arm into a rope-like strand and wrapped it around her own waist. After a few adjustments, Helen seemed content with the way she was gripping her entire midsection.
“Cath, hold him steady.” She didn’t need to be told twice. “Hrrngh!”
fffffrrrrRRRRRRRRGRRRGGGGRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUMMMMMFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
A behemoth fart wrenched its way out of Helen and deposited itself directly into Peter’s head as Helen literally squeezed the gas out of her gut. This was an absolute nuclear detonation of a fart, rumbling the entire building with its brassy bass. Even once it reached its “silent” second half, the winds tore through Peter like a hurricane, forcing their way into his lungs whether he was inhaling or not. Very little green gas escaped between the crevasse of Helen’s buttocks and Peter’s head, indicating his lungs had kept up with the blast. The rotten, eggy stench creeped into Catherine’s nose, and even the tiny dose she got almost made her flinch. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like at ground zero.
Once it was finished, Catherine pulled Peter out, who then hacked up a few thick green clouds. “So? 1–10?”
Peter managed to croak out between coughs, “…Seven.”
Helen crossed her arms, looking unamused. Catherine couldn’t help but laugh. “My turn. Helen, help me out here.”
Catherine slowly expanded her butt size as Helen returned the favor. She couldn’t flexibly mold herself around Peter’s face like Helen did, but she could come pretty close by thickening her flesh around his entire head, forming a decent seal. Once she reached certain dimensions, she felt the pressure of Helen’s hands waver.
“That’s literally too much booty for me to handle,” Helen said, laughing. “He’s practically disappeared up there. I can barely reach him.”
Catherine made a show of rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she said with an air of exasperation. “I’ll do it all myself.” With a tight clench of her massive, toned buttocks, she drew Peter even further inward. Then, content with his positioning, she focused on packing her gas down into one gargantuan release.
“Any time now, Cath,” Helen teased as she felt her gas gurgle downward.
“Shush.”
GGGRRRRMRGGRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOUUUUUURRRRRMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPTTT
With his head jammed directly against her entrance, the gas once again took over for Peter, giving him no say in whether he could inhale or exhale. Catherine felt an exhilarating rush as she felt the bassy fumes thunder into his lungs and echo around his mouth and throat. She rode the high as far as it would go, leaving Peter in her toxic headlock for nearly another minute. She could feel him exhaling the excess fart gas he couldn’t handle, only to be forced to inhale it right back up again. She only released him from the clutches of her firm buttocks when she realized he was dry-heaving.
“Hah!” She was beaming with pride. “Now that is a super-fart!”
Peter was still catching his breath. Catherine eagerly awaited for him to settle down so he could give his verdict.
“Seven.”
Catherine took a step back, realizing his play. “Hmmph. I think he’s toying with us.” She turned to Helen. “What do you think?”
“I think we’ll need to warm up a bit before we can tag-team his face for an eight-plus,” Helen said. “We’re going to need teamwork to get to ten.”
“Good idea.” Peter approached them eagerly, but Catherine stopped him.
“Hey now, we don’t want you to overdose.” Catherine gave Peter’s shoulders a hefty shove, pushing him into a seated position on the couch. “Helen will take over for you while you recover.” She gestured to Helen to plant her face in her butt. Peter watched with a stupefied expression.
“Not fair,” Helen said, putting one hand on her waist. “I want to fart, too.”
“We’ll take turns. You’re sniffing first. I’ll return the favor.”
“Fine.” Helen smirked, getting on her hands and knees behind her. “Make it worth my while.”
“Don’t you worry about that…” With that, Catherine grunted.
FRRRRRRRRRRBRGRRRGGGGGGRRrrrrsssssssssssssssssSSSSSS
“Mmmhh…Love the big ones…” Helen groaned into Catherine’s butt, a thick brown cloud hanging around her face.
Catherine giggled. “If size is your thing, I’m your gal.” She wiggled her booty as she tapped into her superpower again, this time expanding her buttocks enough to engulf Helen’s entire head and then some.
“Mmmmfff…soo nice and thick…”
Catherine was elated; having Peter as one fart cushion was amazing, but having two? Oh man, this is almost too much.
“Brace yourself, hon…”
FFFRRRRSSSSssssssssssssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSTTT
The lack of any bassy tone didn’t mean this fart lacked anything in potency. Helen’s face was washed out with the foul winds tearing out of Catherine’s amplified buttocks, practically suffocating Helen by pumping that foul gas directly down her windpipe with nowhere else to go. Hardly any of the brown fumes appeared to leak out, which was just another testament to how much of it was being stuffed down her throat.
FFRRRRRRRRRRBBBTT
PPRRRRRRGGRRRRRRLLT
FFRRRAAAAAAARRRMMMT
BBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAARRRRSSSSSSS
Catherine had to force herself to slow down and give Helen time to breathe. She realized that, ironically, Helen was less suited for huffing farts than Peter. That didn’t stop her, however, from blasting fart after fart after toxic super-fart down Helen’s throat for the next several minutes, all the while giving Peter a sly glance to make sure he was watching.
“Ough!” Helen pulled herself away after a particularly nasty SBD. “Okay, you’ve had enough. Now it’s my turn!”
“Of course…” Catherine obliged, moving to swap places. Helen, however, in an unusual turn, allowed some of her playful sadism to bleed through. She grabbed Catherine with elastic appendages again, this time wrapping around each of her wrists and pulling them far forward to bring her face right into the gassing zone. The elasticity in her hips and buttocks did the rest of the work, again softening to mold around Catherine’s face like a mask. Helen was in full control now, and Catherine’s heart was in full throttle.
FFRRRRSSSSSSSS
sssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHT
GGRRRRRRMMMMRRRRRRRPPPT
BBBBRRBBBRRRRBRRRRRAAARRRRRRRLLLLLLLGGRRSSSsssssssshhhh
Helen wasted no time battering her with delicious, eye-watering farts. Catherine realized she had some level of control between making her farts bassy or hissy by elastically adjusting her anal ring; on some of the longer farts, she could feel Helen toying with her and modulating the pitches for kicks. But regardless of the sounds, every fart that billowed into Catherine and fumigated the inside of her head filled her vision with a swampy green, and pumped themselves into her lungs relentlessly. The reeking stench of thousands of rotting eggs blinded her to every other sensation for minutes.
Finally, with her heart pounding and sweat beading, Catherine felt herself released from Helen’s grips on her arms, and she reluctantly stumbled away.
“You know, I think poor Peter wants in on the action…” Helen cooed.
“Is he doing better now?” Catherine looked back, waking up from her fart-induced haze. The air was so impossibly wretched and thick with colored stink that it was actually getting harder to see him through it.
“Doing great.” Peter gave a shy thumbs up, unsure what else to say.
“I think he’s ready. Let’s give you something real nice.” Helen wiggled her thick buttocks seductively at him. “You know what to do.”
"Mmmm...brace yourself..."
For over an hour, Catherine and Helen worked to deplete their never-ending supply of noxious gas into Peter’s unsatiable lungs, and Peter of course refused to admit that any of their farts, even when taken together, were a ten out of ten. He sniffed them all up greedily like an air filter; the mix of rotten meat, stewing vegetables, eggy sulfur, onions and spice and all sorts of brutal stench fumed out his entire consciousness with an intensity that should have knocked him out cold, but inexplicably didn’t. When they finally stopped for a break, it wasn’t because anyone was out of gas or out of breath. They were simply ready to call it a day.
But Helen and Catherine had one more order of business to take care of.
“We were just thinking…”
“You know how we said we needed a place to stay for the night?”
“Well, we’re going to need to be here awhile if we’re to seek out those archives. Not to mention, Helen pointed out it’d be worth studying your...’immunity’ to our powers in some more detail.”
“So…”
“So we just wanted to ask…”
“Can we stay with you for…however long that takes?”
“Probably a few months?”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’re not going to stop farting on you any time soon.”
“When we’re out and about during the day, that super-gas tends to build up…”
“…And we couldn’t just let it out anywhere, right?”
“So we’ll just save it up til we get home…”
“And if you happen to be home when we let loose…”
“We can take the time to ‘study your immunity.’”
“How does that sound?”