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The College Experience Contains: Female fart fetish material and several thousand dollars of student loans ========================================================== The First Encounter Today was rough. 8am classes suck, you definitely failed your engineering midterm, and you think you’re coming down with some kind of cough. Maybe after this lecture if you just go back to your room and unwind with some video games, you’ll feel better. Yeah, maybe. *eyeroll* Class ends and you pack up your stuff, ready to flop onto your bed and just give up for a little while. You head upstairs to the ground floor, barely mustering the motivation to put one foot in front of the other with only the thought of your nice soft bed keeping you going. As you near the top of the stairs you hear the sound of an explosion and a panicked feminine voice. *PPPPHHHRRRRBBBBLLLLLRR* “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Fuck, FUCK, FUCK” The sound of running footsteps echo down the hall. Your head whips around and you hurry up the stairs trying to catch a glimpse of the perpetrator as your fetishes briefly overtake your bad mood. You don’t see her but you know which direction she went. Should you follow her? You don’t want to be creepy, but this is a rare opportunity, you need to know who this woman is. Be subtle. You get to the ground floor and you casually follow where the sound of her footsteps went, leading you to the ground floor women’s room. The most depraved part of your brain tells you to go inside, but no. That would be way too creepy. In fact, just standing outside is as well; what would she think when she comes out? Another *PPPVVVRRRTTT* with the reverberated echo of toilet farts resounds from inside the closed door, making your arousal visible. Draping you jacket in front of your crotch, you decide to put in your earbuds and pretend to be on your phone while leaning against a nearby vending machine in an all too purposefully casual manner. You’re just killing time enjoying your music and checking instagram, blissfully unaware of the destruction going on just a few feet away, or so any outside observer would think. Nothing perverted whatsoever. A few moments of silence pass followed by the woman’s strained whispers. “I’m sorry toilet…” she says as an avalanche of shit spews forth. It sounded like a bucket of mud being dumped into the porcelain bowl. Your mind races with fetish-y thoughts as for several minutes a woman’s anal onslaught rages. The smell hits you, having leaked under the door, arousing you to levels never before reached in real life. There’s only been a few occasions in your life when you were lucky enough to hear or catch a whiff of a girl’s flatulence, and at this very moment an unknown woman was taking a dump that blew your wildest dreams out of the water. Moans and groans echo intermixed with harsh braps and splashes that send your imagination spinning. Eventually you hear the sound of a tortured flush and the avalanche comes to an end. You watch the door intently from the corner of your eye, hoping to commit this woman’s face to memory, and with any luck you could meet her again somewhere and strike up a conversation. However, no one leaves the restroom. Instead a brassy *pppppppprrrrrrrrtttttttttt* rumbles forth and *plunk plunk plunk* more shit bombards the struggling toilet. Your jaw drops. This girl just dumped what must have been several pounds of waste and she was still going? She wasn’t even slowing down! A dozen wet sounding farts interspersed with the splashing of inhuman logs fill the air. It smells like you’re standing in the room with her, whoever this amazing woman was. After another few minutes, the quaking comes to an abrupt end, and a gurgling pseudo-flush echoes fourth. You hear the woman pleading “Please flush, please flush, please flush…” and then a few words that dropped your jaw straight to the floor, as a “little” five second fart and a slow, pained flush is punctuated with the woman noting, “There’s still so much left.” A fart that sounds like an actual explosion shakes the door on its hinges and quakes throughout the hall. Whoever is inside there is no ordinary woman. That is a goddess in there, who deserves nothing short of worship by us mortals. Rapid fire rounds of turds slosh into the bowl, and while you’re not quite sure, you almost think you hear liquid splashing onto the floor. The rancid stench now thoroughly penetrated into the hall, almost peeling the paint with the scent of rotten food and beautiful, perfect ass. If the force and quantity of her dump wasn’t forcing the poor toilet into submission, the smell absolutely was. What would continue for several minutes could only be described as a chorus of flatulence interspersed with canon blasts of crap into the pathetic porcelain pot. There is a momentary pause in the onslaught and you hear the juggling of the toilet handle with no response. “C’mon c’mon c’mon…” the nameless woman mutters with a panicked urgency. “Not again…” she sighs. A rumble from the bowels of hell quakes forward, followed by a torrent of gas and hunks of shit. Your knees go weak at the sound (or maybe the air quality) and you slump to the floor in awe. You’re in the presence of a goddess of destruction at the height of her power. What sounds like mountains of toxic solid and gaseous waste spill into the world. The reverberated effect on the sound from the toilet bowl ceases, and the splatters of high velocity sharts through the open air take their place. You can only imagine that this woman filled the bowl and is now squatting over it, blasting out a mountain of shit. At this point the air is hardly air and a dim lightheadedness comes over you, giving everything a dreamlike haze. You don’t quite notice when she finishes her business, the geyser bursts become more and more erratic until you hear the whirring of the toilet paper dispenser as she takes a few minutes to clean herself up. She washes her hands, uses the air dryer, and you prepare yourself to view in person this goddess. You half expect a halo of light to shine from her, and suddenly she emerges. She looks like a woman straight out of your dreams. What strikes you first is her size. She must be nearly 7 feet tall, and she’s not even wearing heels! She has long black hair that bounced with every step and a blue-green stripe in the front. She had bright eyes that glittered with satisfaction. As subtly as possible, you commit her face to memory. She’s wearing a loose green off-the-shoulder t-shirt and a flowing black calf-length skirt, both of which show off the incredible jiggle of her assets as she walks. Each butt cheek must be the size of a basketball! She doesn’t notice you as she walks away, preoccupied by looking over her shoulder and waving a hand behind her gorgeous rear end, trying to disperse the smell before returning to life among us mere mortals. With her back turned, you oggle her rhythmically shifting derrière and the shimmer of her skirt when she suddenly stops, lifts a leg, and a powerful three second ripper echoes down the hall. You can see her dress flutter in the wind. She turns a corner headed back from where she came and you turn your attention back to the lady’s room. A putrid aura emanates from the desecrated site. Maybe you’d linger a while longer, after all, this has been the pick-me-up of a lifetime.
The Lecture Hall A low murmur fills the small lecture hall. Maybe 30 or so college students are seated in swivel chairs at long, crescent shaped tables surrounding a podium and projector screen, lit up by a blue "No Signal" image. You are seated in the third row, laptop open, browsing one of your social media feeds. The professor shuffles through some loose papers at the podium, showing no signs acknowledgment that her class had arrived. Out of the corner of your eye, a familiar figure walks down the aisle, your awesome girlfriend Cassie Rymes. She’s tall, substantially over 6 feet. She has the curves of a goddess, with all the compassion, self assurity, and divine radiant glow to match. She has long raven hair, and the front locks are dyed an ever-changing color, today a pale blonde, while just last week it was lavender. Her waist was narrow for someone of her size, and exploded into the most rocking set of hips and glutes you had ever seen. Today they were wrapped in black leggings that teased you with every wobbling step. From the moment you met her and bore witness to her angelic smile, excited brown eyes, and ground shaking braps, you were convinced she was a goddess made flesh. You look over at her and smile. Her backpack is slung over one shoulder, and she is wearing a light jacket over a t-shirt that exposes a little midriff and high waisted, form fitting jeans. She finds you in the audience and waves. She looks around for and open seat near you, and then smiles devilishly. She slides through the row in front of you, scooting past those who arrived before her. She sits directly in front of you, her tall frame slightly obstructing your view and she pulls out her laptop. The students on either side of you sigh and get up, moving elsewhere. The professor clears her throat and turns on her PowerPoint presentation for the day, beginning the hour long monologue on the art history of Latin America. Honestly the only reason you took this class was to spend some more time with Cassie, but it has grown on you. Also the class is much easier than the other ones you're taking. You open up a Word document and start to take notes. A couple minutes into the lecture a quiet ding informs you you just received a message. You click on your message icon. One new notification from Cassie Rymes ❤️🎨🚽☠️ (She programmed in the emoji herself) "let's play a game" she sent you. "What game?" You reply. You silence your computer and blend in with the sound of fifty other people typing. *Cassie is typing…* "guess what i ate" You laugh to yourself. That is so her. "Bring it on." You type back. Your trained ear picks up an unmistakably Cassie growl from her stomach. She casually leans forward in her chair and... nothing happens. "fuck that felt good" she types. "What?" You send back, and suddenly it hits you. You usually like how Cassie's farts smell, but sometimes she's too much to handle. You stifle a cough and cover your nose with your shirt. You hear her quietly laughing at your suffering. She looks back at you and grins ferociously. She starts typing again. "lol deep breaths babe. next blast off in 3... 2... 1..." After a slight delay, another wave of warm toxic wind rolls over you. Now that you're prepared, you get a big whiff of her ass gas. You smell rotting vegetables with rancid meaty undertones accompanied by burning sewage and skunk musk. Your mind reels and a few wires connect. You start typing. "Something with broccoli or brussels sprouts?" You ask. "close." She replies. "try again." She leans to the left slightly, and another silent wave of hot, foul air fills the area. This time you notice that familiar, distinctive stink. "Asparagus" you answer. "winner winner that was dinner" "What's my prize?" You ask. She cranes her neck to look back at you. She silently mouths "Guess." "More farts?" You type. After the message arrived on her computer, she discretely brushes her pencil off the front of the table. "Whoops." She whispers, moving her laptop to the side as she lays her stomach across the table, reaching in front of it for the pencil. Her butt, tightly wrapped in denim wiggles left and right slightly as she reaches. You know what she's doing. There's almost no delay as her cannon is pointed straight at you. A hot silent breeze brushes past you, moving your hair slightly. Your lungs burn as you inhale and you can't help coughing quietly as she catches the pencil in her fingertips and sits back down. "DAAMMMNNN babe, i fuckin nuked you. that felt sooooo gooood" A slight delay, "breakfasts on its way" She discretely leans forward in her seat and fans the air around her butt back at you. You hardly even have to take a whiff. "Bacon, eggs, and beans" you type "first guess? youre good. BUT SO ARE THESE FARTS!!!!!" She wiggles in her seat teasing what's to come. It's a good thing this is a long lecture.
Study Time The library is always crowded in the afternoon. People getting out of class wanting to get some work done before starting their evening plans. You're up on the 4th floor, a quiet one with soft chairs and vaulted windows. For the last half hour you've been working on your online assignment, a good handful of those minutes could even be described as 'somewhat productive.' As your staring match with the heinous question two out of twenty ticked onward and the sun drew ever closer to the horizon, you get a text. Notification from Cassie Rymes ❤️🎨🚽☠️: hey babe, this reading assignment is killing me. I'm gonna go to wilson and hotbox the elevator for a few hours till i finish it. Wanna come with? Yes. "omw" you reply. You shut your laptop and quickly head towards Wilson School of Life Sciences. Cassie has a rare medical condition that has given her an extremely fast metabolism. She needs to eat large amounts of food every day because her body passes it so quickly that she can hardly absorb any nutrients. From all the junk in her trunk, it’s noticeable that she overcompensates a little, but she carries it in all the right places. There is also the side effect that she produces a lot of gaseous and solid waste, but given her kinks, it couldn’t have worked out better. Neither Cassie nor yourself have any real reason to be in the Life Sciences building, but after a little exploring together one day, the two of you discovered the building only has one elevator. It's huge by elevator standards, nearly 10x10 for no apparent reason. Two people can easily stretch out in it while still leaving room for the regular passengers. The walk to Wilson is a quick one, though the late autumn chill still gets to you. Wilson is easy to find. It's a tall rectangular building with a greenhouse at the top. You enter the front doors. The lobby has lots of natural light and every flat surface has a different potted plant on it. You power through the lobby down the hall. One lab still has students in goggles huddled around their experiments, but otherwise the floor seems pretty deserted. For their sake you hoped the people on the upper floors cleared out as well. At the end of the hall, you find the elevator and hit the 'up' button. A few seconds pass followed by the deep whrrrr of the elevator arriving. You grin in anticipation as the doors open. Two faculty members rush out, one covering his nose with his hand and one coughing into her elbow. They pass you and you stick your arm in the elevator door frame. In the back corner of the elevator is your girlfriend. Cassie is seated on a small blanket laid in the corner. Her face was serenely deep in thought as she peered into a book. She is wearing a V-neck blouse and dark denim capris that hug her jaw-dropping curves. In one hand she holds a freshly unwrapped burrito. She lights up as you enter. "Hey babe!" She says. "Guess who got Chipotle!" The smell was already palpable. Knowing what that kind of food does to her, must people would run the other way. You however, are unlike most people. You snuggle up next to her, lay your head against her breast wall, and vent your frustration over your assignment. "I have to work out the structural integrity of a three kilometer long copper pipe in three places held up by a single cable! It what universe would something like that ever happen!? And then there's eighteen more of these bullshit problems when I finish that! This is useless! I'm learning nothing helpful!" "Babe." Cassie interjects calmly but firmly. "What?" Cassie lifts the cheek next to you and a loud, powerful fart echoes throughout the elevator. It's odor is mild, but the sound reverberates for several seconds. "Feel better?" "...yes..." "Good." She rustles your hair and returns to her reading. You open up your laptop and work on some more calculations. After several minutes and a few gaseous outbursts, you finish with the copper pipe problem. You decide you could use a quick break and you look over at Cassie's book. "Whatcha reading?" You ask as the elevator starts to move upwards. "Kant for my philosophy class." "Looks thick." You say, looking at the dense book. "You know what's thicker?" She asks, completely deadpan. "What?" Cassie crumples up the tinfoil remains of the burrito and lifts her legs in the air, exposing the seat of her pants. She blasts out a huge fart. It sounds like a duck to begin with but soon devolves into a dinosaur. It stank, but in a way that you find to be life-affirming. Maybe it's just your fetishes talking, but Cassie's gas is invigorating, reminding you that you're alive and that if you can score a girlfriend as perfect as Cassie, you can do some homework. The elevator lifts up, opening up to the greenhouse level, where a handful of students carrying potted plants step onto the elevator. They sniff the air and react with mild disgust. A few seem to recognize Cassie and giver her a dirty look as another repeatedly hits the ground floor button. "Have you done this before?" You whisper near Cassie's ear. "A little." She confesses. "That's hot." The botanists leave and the evening draws on. A few more groups get on and off the elevator over the next hour. Cassie continues to rip her epic farts. Big braps and quiet killers burst forth. Between questions you imagine what you would be doing if you had a little more privacy. Last week you two had a study session in her room. She laid on her stomach asking you flash card questions. You laid between her legs, using her pillowy ass to rest your head. When you'd get enough right in a row, she'd blast you with a fart. Sometimes when she couldn't hold it, she'd rip one anyway. Your favorite part was when you got a 10 question streak near the end and she slid her jeans down around her knees. The air in the elevator now permanently stunk. Whether Cassie was ripping one or not, the odor lingered. There was simply too much in the air to notice the tiny amount dissipating through the cracks. You know that farts are colorless, there's never any 'green cloud' or anything, but you could swear the elevator was getting foggier than before. When he doors opened, you could almost see the wave of methane spilling out into the hall. And all the time Cassie never let up. Her rectal tremors came frequently and powerfully. While you don't fear suffocating, your body is alerting you that what you are breathing is not entirely air. The effect was a pleasurable dizzying sensation. After several more minutes of constant rumbles from Cassie's ass (she finished reading a while ago, she stayed in the elevator for the fun of hotboxing it) the botanists returned. The doors opened on the ground floor and a curtain of foggy air wafted from the doors. One of the botanists holding a plant who recognized Cassie earlier said "She's gonna screw up our data. Let's just take the stairs." Her companions nod and murmur in agreement waving the air around their faces. The elevators draw to a close and you glance up at Cassie who was bent slightly pressing her plush buns against the wall of the elevator, letting out a quiet purring fart. When the doors reach each other, she bursts out laughing as she slides to a sitting position. "Damn Cassie, your ass just broke science." Her laughing is interrupted by a powerful gurgle from her gut. "Are you hungry?" You ask "Or is that the thunder of the storm on the horizon?" She smiles at that. "I'm always hungry. In fact, I was getting so hungry I thought I'd have to eat you." She says, booping your nose. "Let's go." She stands up, takes your hand, and presses the door open button. "The dining halls should be less crowded now." She thinks aloud. "It's Thursday, you know what that means." You say suggestively. "Tender Thursday!" She shouts, breaking into a quick skip, pulling you by the hand. "I'm gonna eat them all!"
Good Morning For the past few years, you've been woken up in the same way as most people, the alarm clock on your cell phone. Apple's familiar marimba riff started your days. However, ever since you started dating Cassie Rymes, on very lucky mornings, you have a different kind of alarm. Your visit to dreamland was disturbed this morning by a thunderous sound shaking the bed. It almost feels like an earthquake. You groggily mumble something unintelligible before rolling onto your back and drifting back to sleep. The roar repeats itself, and you get a whiff of the noxious scent. It's awful, but it nonetheless brings a smile to your face. The shaking bed again returns you to the waking world. You sit up on your elbows, blinking tiredly. Another thunderclap fills your ears as a warm, stinking wind rustles the blanket. You rub your eyes, bringing into focus the glorious image of Cassie. She sleeps peacefully on her side facing you, allowing you to follow the beautiful curve of her hips under the blanket. You can't imagine how she sleeps through these massive farts, blissfully unaware of the malodorous, melodious destruction she's wrought. You continue to gaze at her as she breathes gently and occasionally breaks wind powerfully. Suddenly, a blast that doesn't sound like air rustles the sheets. Cassie's eyes fly open and lock with yours. “Morning babe. Pantie check?" She implores groggily. "Sure thing." You reply smiling. You lift the blanket off of her as she points her ass in the air and gives it a little wiggle. She bushes up her messy hair and mumbles "Thanks babe." As your eyes sweep over her you soak in the beauty of her form. Her smooth back and tensing shoulder blades, how her waist flares out into wide hips with a big round ass, and legs that went on and on. At nearly seven feet tall she was truly an Amazonian beauty. You delicately place your hands on her panties, and as a learned cleric performs ritual rites to his god, you pull back on the elastic, exposing the seat and her pillowy bare butt. Briefly distracted by the ways in which the stretching elastic pulls on her flesh, you check the seat of her panties. Clean. You take a deep breath, taking in the powerful newly released fumes. Cassie arcs her back and a powerful burping gale of methane blows your hair back and vibrates Cassie's voluptuous cheeks. "That's it. I'm going in." You say, and bury your face in Cassie's ass cleavage, planting wet kisses and inhaling as much as you can. "Oh yeah babe, that's what mommy wants~" Cassie groans, gyrating slightly as you find the source of her gas. "Guess that means I'm clean... for nowwwwwyes, right there, Right There! Deeper! Sniff it. Here's another." She blasts fart after fart down your throat as you eagerly eat her booty like very expensive groceries. "Oh shit." She gasps, *brrraaapppp* "My morning dump is coming." *Pppprrrrrrppphhhhh* "I can feel it." *FFFVVVVvvoooaaAARRPPRRRaaappPPT* "Make me cum first." You nearly drown in booty, your only source of air coming from her deliciously noxious anus. Her breathing becomes ragged as her farts meld into one another, becoming nearly constant. As your tongue explores every inch of her explosive ass, the gas attack suddenly stops. Her breath comes quick and shallow, she arcs her back, and a sudden gush of liquid from her pussy coats your upper torso and neck. She quivers slightly, overtaken by her climax while you extricate your head, only to be met with a splattering of a chunky shart. "Fuck I can't hold it!" Cassie shouts as she leaps from the bed and bolts for the bathroom, one hand clutched between her leaking cheeks. You grab a tissue and start to wipe away the waste, during which you hear the toilet seat hitting the tank and the opening chords of the anal apocalypse Cassie is about to unleash. You hope she doesn't clog your toilet this morning. Sometimes she will just to tease you, but she's usually pretty good about timing her courtesy flushes. You toss the tissues in the trash and follow to the bathroom. She makes eye contact with you as you enter and the sound of apples being dumped in water fills the area. You turn on the sink and get to washing your face. Cassie bites her lip and a fart that rattles the handle and lid of the toilet quakes through the room. "How's it coming?" You ask sarcastically as Cassie dips the handle with her elbow and continues her onslaught. She is practically bracing herself against the wall and the sink as she answers. "It's somewhere between soft serve ice cream and paintballs." She adjusts her position on the toilet seat. "It's your fault it's so powerful. Loosening me up back there and everything." "Don't act like you didn't like it." You retort, dripping wet as you gesture to her ejaculate. Cassie smiles knowingly. "You know, if you grab my lube from the night stand, I'll return the favor until I'm done here." She grabs the rosy flesh of her free, wobbling breasts and rubs them together. "I'm craving" *pvvvrrrrrttt, plop* "sausage for breakfast." |
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