By: MirageMaven
Claire had no idea what she was getting herself into that morning. She had a job interview at a fancy office building downtown, but before that, she made the rookie mistake of grabbing some Mexican food from a new place nearby. The restaurant was a small hole-in-the-wall that smelled delicious, and Claire was craving something spicy. She figured it’d be a quick meal before the interview, nothing to worry about.
She dug into the meal, savoring the rich flavors of the food. It wasn’t until she finished her last bite, wiping her mouth with a napkin, that the stomach cramps hit. Her stomach churned, and a sudden wave of discomfort made her freeze.
Claire rubbed her belly, hoping the discomfort would pass. The cramping subsided a little, and she started to think maybe it wasn’t the food—perhaps it was just nerves. After all, she was about to go into a big interview, and she hadn’t eaten much this morning. She stood up, shrugging it off, telling herself she could power through.
But as she made her way to the building, that uneasy feeling started creeping back. The familiar churning in her stomach told her this was going to be a problem.
Claire walked into the lobby, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in her stomach. The modern, sleek design of the building did little to calm her nerves. She made her way to the front desk, where a receptionist smiled at her.
"Hi, I’m here for an interview with Mr. Grover," Claire said, doing her best to appear calm despite the tightening sensation in her abdomen.
"Of course," the receptionist replied, checking her computer. "You can head up to the 15th floor. The elevators are just around the corner."
Claire nodded, offering a polite smile before turning toward the elevators, praying that her stomach wouldn’t cause any more issues.
As Claire neared the elevator, she noticed that it hadn’t moved yet, but it was already packed. The doors were open, and people stood shoulder-to-shoulder, all waiting to go up. Dead center, near the front, was a dwarf in a sharp suit. Claire hesitated for a moment, eyeing the tight space. It was clear the elevator was nearly full, but there was just one last spot—right at the very front, in front of the dwarf.
She didn’t want to be late for her interview, and there was no time to wait for the next elevator. Steeling herself, she turned around and squeezed into the remaining space, placing herself directly in front of the dwarf. As she adjusted her position to fit, she realized with a sudden, uncomfortable realization that the dwarf’s head was now directly at the level of her backside.
Her heart skipped a beat, and the awkwardness of the situation hit her. The tight quarters and the proximity between them made it all too clear that he would be staring right at her butt—something she hadn't anticipated. She couldn’t help but feel a rush of discomfort, but there was nothing she could do now. The elevator doors closed, and she was stuck.
The elevator doors shut with a soft ding, sealing Claire and the others inside. There was no turning back now. Claire tried to settle into the cramped space, doing her best to stand still and keep her composure. The only issue now, aside from the tight quarters, was the unmistakable proximity of the dwarf—his head practically level with her backside. She felt a flush of embarrassment but tried to focus on keeping her breathing steady. The last thing she needed was to make a scene before her interview.
For a brief moment, she thought everything might be okay. The discomfort in her stomach had lessened, and it seemed like the worst of it might pass. The elevator ascended smoothly, and Claire found herself trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation.
But then, a familiar churning sensation hit her stomach again, more intense this time. She froze, praying it was just nerves, but her body had other ideas. The first, soft rumble came, completely silent, but unmistakably present. Her face flushed as she felt the warm, uncomfortable pressure building. She was trying so hard to keep control, but there was no stopping it now.
She felt a quick jolt of panic—there was no way out of this situation, no escape from the awkwardness, and certainly no way to stop the inevitable.
Claire didn’t believe in a higher power, but in that moment, she couldn’t help herself. She found herself praying silently, please don’t let me fart in this dwarf’s face.
but apparently, the higher powers had a twisted sense of humor.
The fart came out of nowhere—silent, but potent, and aimed directly in the dwarf’s direction. Claire’s face went crimson as the warm rush of air escaped her ass, just inches from his head. She didn’t dare turn to look at him, her mind racing as the stench began to fill the tight space, creeping into her lungs.
Claire stared straight at the elevator doors, never daring to look anywhere else. The discomfort in her stomach seemed to multiply with every passing second. She fought against the inevitable, her muscles tensing in desperation, but every battle was lost. One after another, the farts slipped out, each one more impossible to contain than the last.
The silent bursts of air released in quick succession; each one aimed at the dwarf just inches behind her. Claire's face was a deep shade of crimson, mortified by the situation, but there was nothing she could do. Her body betrayed her with every release, the smell thickening in the air as it began to creep into the noses of the other passengers.
The sound of soft coughs filled the elevator, followed by the sound of people shifting uncomfortably. Some pinched their noses, others turned their heads, and one woman even muttered under her breath. Claire felt like she was suffocating under the weight of the situation, the scent hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
Nearing the 15th floor, Claire had lost count of how many farts had slipped out, each one more humiliating than the last. Her stomach churned in a way that felt different from the others, a deep, unsettling shift in her gut. She could feel it building, this one was unlike any of the quiet releases she’d endured thus far. Her heart raced as the unmistakable pressure mounted. This wasn’t just another silent fart—it felt... louder.
She fought it, desperately clenching her muscles, but it was no use. As the elevator lurched toward the 15th floor, Claire knew there was no way she could hold this one in. The pressure became too much, and with a sudden, unexpected force, she let out a loud, undeniable explosion of a fart that echoed through the cramped space. It was a loud blast, a sound that reverberated off the elevator walls, and, of course, it hit him, manipulating around his face like he was being tested for aerodynamics in a WindTunnel.
The elevator seemed to freeze for a moment, as though everyone inside was in shock. The odor followed the blast almost instantly, thicker and more potent than anything that had come before it. Claire’s hands clenched in mortification, her body stiffened in panic, and she could feel the eyes of every passenger burning into her back, the weight of the situation suffocating her.
She was sure the dwarf had to have heard it. Claire dared not look at him, but she could feel his presence behind her, his silence almost deafening. Would he say something? Would he react? The anticipation made her stomach churn even more. She could barely breathe, hoping that the door would open soon and give her a chance to escape from this nightmare.
The dwarf pinched his nose, waving his other hand in front of his face as if trying to push the noxious air away from both his face and her butt. "Really, lady?" he muttered under his breath.
The rest of the passengers were no better—some were coughing and shifting uncomfortably, trying to escape the growing stench. But Claire, still facing forward, could feel her body shaking with embarrassment. Every ounce of dignity she had left seemed to vanish with that last blast.
She wanted to apologize, to explain, but her mouth was dry, and the words wouldn’t come. Her stomach felt like it was in knots, and all she could do was stand there, silently hoping the elevator would reach her floor soon so she could escape from this nightmare.
Finally, the elevator came to a screeching halt at the 15th floor. Claire swore she could hear the accumulated stench of all her farts rush out of the elevator as the doors opened, like a force of nature escaping into the hallway.
Without a second thought, Claire bolted out of the elevator, nearly stumbling as she rushed toward the wall directly across the hall from the elevator. She slammed her forehead against it, her hands clutching at her face in mortification. She could hear the scurry of footsteps as the other occupants rushed out of the elevator, their discomfort unmistakable. Some of them pinched their noses, others had their shirts over their faces, desperately trying to avoid the lingering stench. A few were even coughing, their attempts to breathe fresh air met with little success as they hurried in different directions, eager to escape the horrific cloud.
Claire pressed her face against the cold wall, the coolness doing little to ease the heat that radiated from her cheeks. She could still hear the hurried movements, the shuffling feet, and the occasional muffled comment as everyone fled from the scene.
The hallway now empty, Claire took a deep breath and cautiously turned around. She leaned against the wall, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her as she slid down into a sitting position on the floor. The cold tiles pressed against her palms, grounding her in the quiet aftermath of the chaos she had just caused.
She couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself, the absurdity of the situation washing over her. Well, can't get any worse than that, right? she thought, trying to convince herself that it was all behind her now. The stench was gone, the people had fled, and the awkwardness felt like it was starting to fade.
Claire stood up, brushing herself off and adjusting her pencil skirt. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before heading toward the interview room. No point in turning back now, she thought, still feeling the sting of what had just happened. She knocked on the door lightly, hearing a voice from inside call out, "Come in."
Claire opened the door and stepped inside, carefully closing it behind her. She didn’t dare look at the interviewer just yet—her nerves were still on edge. She looked straight ahead, focusing on the task at hand.
But as she finally allowed her gaze to wander, she froze.
Sitting behind the desk was none other than the dwarf from the elevator. Claire’s heart sank into her stomach. Her mind screamed in disbelief. This cannot be happening.
The very same dwarf who had been inches from her butt just moments ago, enduring the brunt of her disastrous elevator ride, was now the one who would decide her fate in the interview.
The dwarf leaned back in his chair, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he studied Claire. "I'm Henry Grover," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. "And you must be Claire?"
Claire nodded slowly, her face flushed with a deep, burning embarrassment. She could hardly look at him, still processing the fact that this was the same dwarf who had been stuck in that elevator inches from her ass.
Henry let out a laugh, clearly amused by her discomfort. "Claire, I'm not upset you farted in my face seventeen times in the elevator," he said casually, as if it was the most normal thing to mention in an interview.
Claire’s mind raced as the words echoed in her head. Oh my god, he counted. The realization hit her like a freight train. She could feel the heat rising to her face, her palms clammy as she struggled to compose herself. Seventeen? How was that even possible?
She forced herself to look up, meeting his gaze for the first time since entering the room. To her surprise, Henry’s expression was relaxed, almost... amused? It was as if the whole elevator incident was no big deal to him.
Henry leaned forward, his grin widening as he assessed her reaction. "What I'm about to say might sound weird," he said, his voice laced with amusement.
Claire's mind was still racing. She barely processed his words, too focused on the absurdity of the situation. Seventeen farts. He’d actually counted them. She wasn’t sure whether to be mortified or impressed.
He gestured toward the chair across from his desk. "Go ahead and have a seat. You look like you could use it."
Claire hesitated but eventually moved toward the chair, her legs feeling unsteady as she made her way across the room. She sat down slowly, still trying to shake off the awkwardness of the whole situation. As she adjusted in her seat, she couldn’t help but feel like she was in the middle of some weird, surreal dream she couldn’t wake up from.
Henry sat back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied Claire. His smile was almost mischievous, as if he enjoyed seeing her squirm under the pressure of the situation.
"Now Claire, you probably assume I hated having you fart on my face," he said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather rather than the awkward incident that had just occurred.
Claire’s eyes widened, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I… I mean, who would enjoy that?" she stammered, her mind still reeling. "It must have been terrible for you."
Henry laughed, a light chuckle that seemed to ease the tension in the room. "Well, I did enjoy it," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Claire's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "What? You— you enjoyed it?" she sputtered, unable to comprehend what she was hearing.
Henry leaned back in his chair, still smiling as he watched Claire's stunned reaction. Without skipping a beat, he nodded to himself and then looked directly at her.
"You've got the job," he said simply, his tone no longer playful but serious now.
Claire blinked in shock, her mind struggling to process everything that had just happened. The elevator incident, her humiliation, his strange commentary—it all seemed like a bizarre dream. And now, just like that, she was being offered the job?
Claire blinked again, still trying to make sense of everything. "But… you didn’t even interview me," she said, her voice shaky as she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening. "I mean, we haven’t even talked about the job or my qualifications or anything!"
Henry nodded, his expression serious as he signed some paperwork, the sound of his pen scratching against the page almost oddly satisfying in the tense silence. He looked back up at Claire and gave a reassuring smile. "You're right," he said, his tone as calm as ever. "But it's all settled now. I've made my decision."
"When's the earliest you can start?" he asked, his voice steady and businesslike, as if the bizarre elevator incident had never happened.
"Uh..." she stammered, her brain spinning. "I… I can start as soon as possible, I guess. Tomorrow?" She tried to sound confident, but everything felt surreal, like she was in a dream.
Henry nodded again, giving her a slight grin. "Tomorrow works."
Claire could hardly believe what she was hearing. It was absurd, but it was happening. The job was hers. And all because of an elevator ride she would never forget.
Henry paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned forward, as if he had one last important thing to say. "Oh, and Claire..." he said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment.
Claire looked up at him, still trying to process everything. "Yeah?" she asked, her voice a little unsure.
Henry’s gaze held a peculiar intensity as he leaned forward, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. "Whatever you ate today... keep eating it," he said, his voice almost conspiratorial. "In fact, I can get you set up with a company card to pay for all your food while working here."
Claire blinked in confusion, unsure if she had heard him right. "Wait, what?" she asked, her brows furrowing. "You want me to keep eating... what I ate today?"
Henry’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Exactly," he confirmed, his voice calm and almost approving. "Whatever made you rip so many farts in the elevator."
Henry’s gaze remained steady, his tone both casual and expectant as he asked, "Can you make that happen?"
Claire blinked, her mind still trying to catch up with the surreal nature of the conversation. "You want me to... keep farting?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The absurdity of the request was too much for her to fully grasp.
Henry confirmed, his expression still relaxed as if the entire situation was completely normal. "Yep," he said.
Claire took a deep breath, her mind still reeling from the bizarre request. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or if this was some strange test, but it was clear that this was happening. She glanced at Henry, then back at the paperwork on the desk, feeling the weight of the moment.
After a long, awkward pause, Claire finally nodded. "Okay," she said, her voice hesitant but determined. "I’ll... try."
Henry smiled, his expression almost playful as he hopped down off his chair and started toward the door. He paused for a moment, turned back toward Claire, and raised an eyebrow.
"You got any more farts brewing, Claire?" he asked, his tone light but expectant.
Claire froze, unsure how to respond. She glanced around the room, feeling her face flush once again. How did he even ask that so casually?
Claire hesitated for a moment, then, almost without thinking, she felt a small rumble deep in her stomach. Her face flushed even more as she realized that, yes, there was something bubbling inside her.
She cleared her throat, trying to regain a sense of composure. "I... I do," she said, her voice a little quieter than usual, still processing the strangeness of the situation.
Henry stood still, a calm but expectant look in his eyes as he watched Claire. The silence in the room seemed to stretch, and Claire could feel the weight of his gaze on her. It was like he was waiting for her to follow through, to do exactly what he had asked.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her stomach giving a little lurch as she tried to gather her thoughts. The absurdity of the whole situation hadn’t quite sunk in, but here she was, in an office, being asked to fart on command in front of her new boss.
She could feel it brewing, that familiar pressure in her abdomen, and she hesitated for a moment longer, unsure if she should go through with it. But Henry didn’t say anything—he just waited; his eyes locked on her.
With a deep breath, Claire braced herself and relaxed, letting the natural pressure take its course.
Claire, her nerves still buzzing with tension, finally gave in to the inevitable. She felt the rumble deep in her stomach again, and with a sigh, she let go. The sound was undeniable, loud enough to fill the room, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her immediately.
The air felt thick with the awkwardness of the moment as she sat there, waiting for Henry’s reaction, her cheeks burning red.
Henry, however, didn’t flinch. Instead, he nodded as though this were exactly what he’d been expecting, his face still composed but with a hint of approval in his eyes.
Henry turned toward the door, walking casually as if the entire exchange had been the most natural thing in the world. "You should see a $5,000 bonus after taxes are taken out for your performance just now," he said, almost nonchalantly, as if discussing any other business matter.
Claire blinked in disbelief. A bonus? For farting? She sat there, still processing the absurdity of it all, her mouth agape.
Henry nodded, his expression unwavering as he paused at the door. "Get used to it, Claire," he said with a smile. "You'll be seeing a lot of bonuses."
Henry turned back to face Claire with a smile, as if the moment had been perfectly normal. "Feel free to stay here for a bit, Claire. Just close the door once you leave," he said, his tone calm and inviting, as if this was simply part of the job.
Claire nodded slowly, still processing everything. "Uh... thanks," she managed to say, unsure of what to do next.
With that, Henry exited, leaving Claire alone in the office, the weight of the bizarre conversation and the unexpected bonus settling in. She looked around the room, half-expecting the world to snap back to normal, but everything still felt like some strange dream.
As Claire sat there, the absurdity of the situation started to sink in. The laughter bubbled up from inside her, a mix of disbelief and amusement. The fact that her embarrassing farting incident had somehow landed her a job and a bonus made her shake her head in wonder. She thought about it for a moment and then burst out laughing, almost uncontrollably.
"I can't believe this is happening," she muttered to herself, still chuckling as the laughter faded into a grin. The thought of farting at work for a living seemed so ridiculous, yet in a strange way, it was kind of empowering.
This could actually be fun, she realized, and who knows—maybe it would be more rewarding than any job she'd ever had before. She stood up from the chair, feeling a strange sense of confidence, as if she could take on whatever came her way.
Claire made her way over to the door to leave but she stopped at the door. She realized she never got to say thank you. Gratitude wasn't the only thing bubbling inside of her because she thought of the perfect way to thank Henry. She looked over at his chair where he was sitting before he left her alone in the office.
She walked over towards his chair and stopped right next to it before turning around. Claire pulled her skirt up and yanked her underwear down making sure she gives him the biggest thank you she can.
Once her asshole on unobstructed, it began to pucker before expanding. It sounded like this one hurt. The fart came out as a sharp zipper sound, and it kept going and going. After about 5 seconds Claire could already smell it even though it was still ripping out of her ass meaning the smell was gonna get even worse. The fart finally ended at seventeen seconds, as if paying homage to the number of farts Claire blasted in Henry's face.
Claire panted after pushing that long fart out, she pulled her underwear up and dropped her skirt back down signaling her mission was complete. A nice lingering thank you was given.
Claire walked to the door and left his office closing the door behind her like he asked. She turned towards the direction of the elevator she took up here. To her surprise she saw Henry coming her direction. She couldn't help but feel a bit excited knowing what she had left for him. Henry smiled kindly at her.
Henry mention. "I can't believe the elevator still stinks from your farts."
Claire laughed, "No way! I guess I'll see for myself." but she briefly threw in something else. "Oh and Henry, I left something for you in your office. I'm sure you'll find it."
Even though Henry didn't have a clue what it could be, he smiled "Thanks Claire! I'll see you tomorrow!"
Claire waved back "See you tomorrow!"
Claire made her way to the elevator and entered. This time it was completely empty. She stood there in her stale farts, feeling a bit turned on from the thought of what he might be doing in his office now. He's probably sitting there basking in her thank you.
This was her dream job