Gay Fart Stories

Jacob's first day of his new job, the first day in hell

...

Day One was long, busy, and hellish.

As Tristan had explained, Fartboy was ordered to spend his classes in the far back corner of the lecture halls, where an AKO brother would sit with his ass sticking out to relieve themselves of gas.

The brother in his Monday morning psych 101 class, Harley, was a burly guy with messy brown hair, a beard, and furry arms. He had on an old dirty beer crawl T Shirt, and old basketball shorts. Before class he warned Jacob that he usually loads up on dorm cafeteria breakfasts.

“The eggs, bacon, and oatmeal really do a number on my guts,” he smirked, “That gas really reeks. Gnarly. You don’t have to smell them if you don’t want to,”

Jacob was ready to say thanks and get away from that awful sounding ass, but Fartboy was in full control; “Don’t worry about me sir, fart sniffing is my job. Sniffing farts is my favorite thing to do, and I want to please the frat”

“That’s what we like to hear.”

So Jacob was forced to spend the lecture with his face buried deep into Harley’s ass. His basketball shorts were doing nothing to hold off the stench. Fartboy breathed through his nose slowly, forcing Jacob to spend the agonizing 75 minute lecture by savoring the stink coming out of Harley’s backside.

Worse were the farts, of course. Letting them out slowly and quietly, Jacob felt the pants get hot and his face become uncomfortably moist. A revolting stink took over, like old eggs in old pig grease. Jacob’s eyes burned, but Fartboy was smiling and drawing in slow sniffs. Jacob was enraged; not only did he have to smell it, but his alter ego was really taking his time with each fart. 

Inside Fartboy’s head, Jacob was screaming. He couldn’t take notes. He couldn’t focus on what the professor was saying, he was so far away. And Fartboy always made sure all of his attention was given to the ass in front of him.

Once the stink was gone (or at least, brought back to ‘minimum’ levels of stink that always came off Harley’s asshole), Jacob finally got fresh air as Fartboy moved over to start his dozens of kisses of gratitude. Jacob didn’t even care at the humiliating act, he was just glad to be out of that ass.

When class was over, Harley and Jacob snuck out of the room. “How were those?”

“Absolutely disgusting.” Jacob said with sincerity, but Fartboy was still smiling, “Thanks again. Can’t wait for Thursday’s class”

Jacob walked toward his next class, sick to his stomach. Awaiting him was Griffin, a dumb football player with a thick ass that stretched his basketball shorts out. He’d texted Jacob the day before, “Hey Fartboy, usually i shower in the mornings but since you’re in my 11am lecture, I’ll wait till afterward. I don’t want you to be bored with a clean butt when you could explore the smells of my unwashed crack :D study my ass harder than the class”

And Fartboy’s fingers typed on Jacob’s phone to reply “Can’t wait, sir! I love your farts so much!!”

All of Fartboy’s texts were saved and shared on a secret frat discord server. As were over-the-shoulder selfies of Fartboy at work.

Griffin was taking such a selfie in their 11am lecture. He held the phone over his shoulders, and Fartboy stared right back up into his own eyes. Griffin was bold enough to pull his shorts down, mooning Jacob with pale smooth cheeks. Because he was told to ‘explore the smells’, Fartboy had grabbed onto Griffin’s thick cheeks and spread them, getting Jacob’s neck at an angle to a painful degree, trying to line his nostrils up right over his smooth pink hole. The angle was awkward and started to give Jacob a headache, but it did make the stink stronger so Fartboy didn’t relieve Jacob of this painful position. Jacob started to cry, and Fartboy started sniffing.

Thankfully, Griffin only farted three times during class. Each one made his eyes stream more tears, and his nose turned into a bloodhound’s making sure to sniff them all in. Even though they were less painful than Harley’s, and less frequent, still this was another class that Jacob missed. At this rate, he would fail the semester and have to start over. His heart raced with anxiety; the frat wouldn’t do that to a pledge, would they? But then he thought, they’ve already done this evil hypnosis, they know I know this is all fake, yet they were more than happy to force me into ruining my college career, just so they could taunt me like immature older brothers.

Next class of the day, 1pm lecture…oh no. Jacob got a text from Diego, the senior brother he was assigned to for this class. “Hey Fartboy, I am seeing my girlfriend this afternoon but I don’t have time to shower. Can you use your tongue to ‘freshen’ up back there? Give my ass a spa treatment.”

No. no, fuck no, Fartboy’s thumbs raced, “Yes sir right away sir!”

Fartboy took over and made Jacob sprint to class. 

For the next 75 minutes, Fartboy gave Diego’s ass the full spa treatment.

First, Fartboy pampered him with kisses. Jacob grimaced at feeling all of the ass hairs scratch at his lips. He reeked as if he’d never showered. Jacob’s lips were forced into the forest of black hair around Diego’s dark asshole. He gagged, but Fartboy kept going. Afterward, he started giving a full-ass massage, using his nose and lips against his hairy cheeks, and kneading them with his fingers. Diego was smirking, holding his phone over his shoulder to record it for the chat. Jacob would have been ashamed if he knew he was being filmed, but Fartboy had pulled him in to massage Diego’s asshole with his nose. He pressed in deep and was roughly grinding his face into his ass crack, while his hands worked on his cheeks. The stink, the pressure, the heat, it was all making Jacob feel faint. Forced to be conscious through this hell.

When it was finally time to lick him clean, and Jacob couldn’t help but count each ass hair that got caught into his mouth, Diego decided it was time to let out his gas. He waited for Jacob’s tongue to reach his hole before letting an SDB seep out.

Jacob gagged violently, but Fartboy locked lips with Diego’s hole and sucked it down, forcing Jacob to taste every moment. His hands kept rubbing his cheeks, slowly working and massaging his ass muscles, while his lips worked on his hole.

Finally, class was over. Jacob was in a daze, shivering in disgust and exhaustion. Diego pulled his shorts up and looked down at the pledge,

“Feels squeaky clean down there, Fartboy. Great Job! And your face was the perfect massage wand. I think I’d like every class this semester to be a spa day for my ass.”

Before Jacob could let the horror of those words sink in, the horror of having to do that three times a week for 75 minutes each…Fartboy chirped up “That would be my pleasure, sir! I’m sorry I let you fart into my mouth instead of my nose where it belongs. I will deduct those from my points today.”

“You know I liked using your mouth instead. Loved feeling you squirm. Since you don’t mind missing out on points here and there, I’ll make sure to save my farts for your mouth only”

“Thank you sir. Your gas was the most vile thing I’ve tasted. But for the frat, I look forward to tasting the next one”

Diego cackled a boyish cruel laugh. Jacob felt shame and disgust brewing inside him, but Fartboy smiled like an idiot. Diego said, “I fucking love you man. 

So none of those points counted. He’d spent the full lecture gagging on Diego’s evil ass gas, only to add no points to his total. He’ll never be free from Fartboy.

…

In between classes, Jacob tried to avoid running into frat brothers across campus. He learned the mistake the hard way when, on day one, he cut across the quad to get to one of the few real classes he had on the other side…except a group of brothers was coming his way. The tallest one in the middle with the shaven black hair and gaunt face was Vinnie Russo. He locked eyes with Jacob and headed in his direction.

I can’t pretend not to see him.

“Well happy Monday, Fartboy.”

“Happy Monday, Sir.”

“Who was your last class with?”

“Diego Sanchez, Sir.”

“Hah! Dirty Sanchez!” the group started to laugh, “Fuck man I can’t imagine surviving a single minute near his rank skunk ass. And his mind’s just as filthy. Tell us in detail what he had you do for him.”

So Fartboy took over, and with pride he explained how he gave Diego’s ass a ‘spa day’, how he used his nose to massage his hole, how he spent a long time tongue scrubbing it clean, and how Diego had farted into his mouth. Jacob’s face would have been burning with shame at admitting, not only that these things happened to him, but with enthusiasm like he loved every second of it! They all cackled with cruel faces, enjoying how disgustingly evil it all was.

“Well sounds like you had a rough afternoon.”

“Yes sir, I'm exhausted.” Jacob admitted. Maybe these guys would be merciful to him.

“I don’t have anything to offer right now, but maybe you could still show gratitude. On your knees.” 

Fartboy did as commanded. Jacob worried that other students were watching!

Vinnie walked up to him and turned around. His ass was snug in his blue jeans. “Give my shithole a smooch. And then, keep your lips glued there.”

Fartboy obeyed. Jacob’s lips yanked him forward and he planted a fat kiss right on the seat of Vinnie’s jeans. As instructed, the lips stayed there. No matter how much Jacob tried to nudge, his body was determined to keep his lips against the older brother’s asshole. 

The others were laughing at the sight. The pledge kissing the brother’s ass, just as nature intended. They stood around joking and chatting for a few minutes, while Jacob was becoming more aware of how much time was passing. He was late for class. Fuck, he wasn’t going to be in class. He was skipping the only class he could hope to do well in, so he could keep his lips locked with a guy’s asshole?!

The heat of his breath made the fabric moist. As always, Fartboy savored the stink with deliberate sniffs.

He heard others laughing, girls and guys. Other students who know nothing about the frat, who see a freshman hyper focused on kissing a frat bro’s ass. Typical hazing. Hell week. Laugh and move on. Jacob wanted to cry. He would never make friends at this school. If Fartboy is in so much control, he’ll be a laughingstock. 

Then Jacob felt someone lean up on the side of his head,

PRTPRTPRPPPPP

Someone farted into his left ear. That got the other guys hooting with laughter. Fartboy didn’t move from his spot, but since his nose was exposed more, he could smell the fart well. It wouldn’t count to his total points for the day, of course, but even so he took in a deep sniff. Jacob felt like a raging monkey in a cage.

They took turns ripping farts on either side of his head. He drunk them into his nose, knowing that he wouldn’t count them to the score, forcing Jacob to appreciate every horrible flavor, from the ass sweat humid from his jeans seeping into his lips, to the constant farts that he sucked in second by second.

“Wow it’s been 45 minutes. I’m tired of this. Ok Fartboy you win.”

Like magic, Jacob’s lips were detached from Vinnie’s pants. His ass sweat caked onto his lips and had sunk onto his tongue. “Thank you, sir.”

“As a prize…uh…who thinks they haven’t showered the longest here?”

“Gotta be me,” a tall brother with a beer gut raised his arm, “Didn’t feel like it since Thursday night.”

“Wow that’s vintage 5 day aged ass crack, Fartboy, your prize is to sniff my buddy Paul here on his asshole and really really take in the aroma, like a fine wine.”

Paul turned around and pulled his jeans down.

Oh no, fuck,

Fartboy didn’t ever give Jacob a chance to react, mentally, to what was about to happen to him. Paul’s fallen jeans revealed large chubby ass cheeks coated in bear like brown hair. His hands clasped at his cheeks and spread them open to show even thicker hair sinking into the crack. And immediately, Fartboy yanked Jacob forward, forcing him to crawl toward this fat hairy beast of an ass, and shove his nose deep into the ass trench.

Jacob couldn’t hear or think about the disgusted groans from the guys, and their shocked hyena cackles. And he still hadn’t known that this was all on discord. But in that moment, the mindnumbingly painful stench of old shit was forced to be enjoyed by his nose. He wanted to vomit. Fartboy sniffed slowly to take in the aromas, enough that it forced Jacob to think about the different aspects of the way Paul’s asshole stunk, and to compare it to the other asses he’s smelled. Jacob’s nightmare was never ending; he was being forced to turn the smell over and over in his head, as if trying to memorize it, 

He had been forced to put all of his attention on the way Paul’s asshole smelled, he didn’t realize class was being let out and students were laughing at him, horrified and squealing. He had no idea they were taking pictures of him and posting them online.

Ever since, Jacob has avoided the quad. 

…

As he entered the library doors, Jacob’s phone started blowing up with requests. Fartboy got to work. 

A brother by the name of Kyle Brower texted him an awful message: 

‘Hey Fartboy. I’m on the third floor, far north corner. No one else around. Had a bacon cheeseburger for lunch. Not sitting well. Don’t talk to me because I’m working. I’ll have my ass out, come and do your job.’

Jacob clenched his teeth. After being smothered by Amad’s rancid ass, the last thing he wanted to do was learn how cheeseburgers affected Kyle’s bowels. He watched Fartboy bring him down the hall and up the stairs, grinning in anticipation.

The third floor was quiet, and Jacob was surprised to find all the desks empty. Kyle was the only person on the floor. He had a buzz cut, and matching short stubble around his jawline. He had a grey shirt with a list of bars from a previous bar crawl. He was in black basket ball shorts, and he had positioned his ass so that it was hanging out the back hole of the chair, between the back rest and the seat. He had headphones on and looked intently at his homework. He glanced at Jacob for a moment, then looked back down at his work.

Fartboy made Jacob focus on his ass buldging out from the chair as he dropped to his knees and crawled across the old filthy library carpet. Jacob was afraid someone on the floor would see, but that hasn’t stopped Fartboy before. Jacob was terrified of another ‘viral’ moment. 

In that moment, a horror hit Jacob’s heart…the parties. Oh god, they’re going to make me do this shit in front of girls…

Fartboy ignored Jacob’s thoughts, and forced him to bring his nose up to the seat of his black shorts. Fartboy made Jacob think about how Kyle’s asshole smell was unique compared to the other brothers. Jacob hated that his thoughts were filled with memories of the worst smells he’d ever taken in, some of the most humiliating and revolting experiences he’s had, and the hypnosis was forcing him to memorize every detail and solidify it in his memory forever.

Just as Jacob was fully realizing how this hypnosis was causing permanent changes in his mind, Fartboy nuzzled in deep to do his job.

Nothing could prepare Jacob for just how awful this would be. 

Immediately, his shorts went hot with the worst silent but deadly fart Jacob had ever smelled in his life. Just hours after the last ‘worst’ thing he’d ever smelled. Jacob started gagging, but Fartboy was stronger. His hands clutched at Kyle’s hips, and Jacob’s face was shoved deeper into Kyle’s crack, muffling his gagging sounds. Fartboy kept taking in sniffs when he had a chance, making Jacob’s nausea worse. 

Then another came out. Again the heat covering Jacob’s face and coating it in its rotten stink, which Fartboy soaked in like a calming facial. The gagging had subsided, Fartboy was in full control, now putting his hands up on Kyle’s cheeks, he made sure Jacob savored every moment.

Then another came out.

Ten minutes. Jacob spent ten minutes with his face buried up Kyle’s cheeks, screaming into his ass while a neverending stream of cheeseburger fart tearing up his nostrils. His eyes were burning with tears.

But Fartboy had pulled a wide smile, and he whispered “Thank you sir, those were absolutely disgusting.” As if rubbing it in, he made Jacob kiss Kyle’s ass. Again, and again. Fartboy was kissing each cheek all over, He was getting more frantic and giggling to himself. 

Kyle held his phone over his shoulder, in a snapchat selfie video, he raised a brow at the sight of Jacob’s obsessive kissing. 

“Fartboy’s having a moment,” he muttered with a smirk.

Fartboy saved the last kiss for the asshole, the same hole that had just let out the most vile grease bomb up Jacob’s nose. Then he smiled lovingly at Kyle’s ass and whispered, “thank you, sir. Those were the worst I’ve smelled today.”

Jacob was finally freed, and crawled up to walk away. The entire time, Kyle didn’t acknowledge him once, except to film him. He kept his head down and was working. Jacob felt empty, that this guy didn’t think of me as a pledge and would be brother, but like he’d used some service app to order his farts to be vacuumed out. As if Jacob hadn’t been forced to suck down the worst stink of his life… 

Maybe, Jacob thought as he returned to his seat, maybe I can get enough homework done that missing classes won’t be as bad…” the memories of Kyle’s ass, and the asses of the other boys he’d serviced that day, were dancing around his nose. Jacob couldn’t concentrate; the homework and studying was boring and too difficult without being present in class, and Fart Boy was reliving some of the most foul moments of the day.

Jacob felt sick to his stomach, 

Soon, Kyle texted back. ‘on a scale of 1-10, how rancid were they?’

Jacob was honest, ‘10.”

He replied “sorry to hear. I usually get gassy like this for hours. I’ll let you know when I have more. Don’t get too comfy”

Jacob’s head collapsed into his arms. But he felt his heart race as Fart Boy’s excitement shot back up. Now his mind was replaying the cheeseburger farts, and Jacob was feeling of longing, 

“No,” he whispered in horror.

But he could feel, not Fartboy, but himself desire to bring his nose to Kyle’s asshole again. 

He was at the library from 5-9pm. In those four hours, Kyle called him back eight more times. Each time what used to be dreading the steps up to the third floor turned into taking two steps at a time.. Always seeing his ass hanging out, knowing it was about to let out the worst stink, and knowing that he would need to keep his nose in it for several minutes. And he had to thank him each time.

He was disgusted while feeling an odd sensation, like realizing that an intense craving is about to be satisfied.

Jacob performed his service for Kyle, as well as about a dozen other brothers scattered about the library. Not all of them needed to fart, thank god; a few wanted a chance to welcome the pledge and ask about his first week (only one week!). They liked hearing Jacob detail what it was like to be Fartboy.

Of course they still made him humiliate himself. 

Gabe was a preppy boy with his brown hair in a perm, and round glasses. He seemed more sincerely friendly than the others, asking Jacob about his major and how he likes college life so far (Fartboy made him answer “I wish I could major in farts. And college has been great! I love servicing your asses”)

“Sounds…unbearable.” he smiled, “I’m not a gassy man really. But you should at least kiss my ass. Always respect your brothers.”

“Yes sir!” And Jacob performed another typical ass kissing exercise against dark khakis.

When Jacob answered Brady’s call, he found him another larger, bulky guys with a bit of a dullard face. How terrible would his gas be? But he wasn’t gassy either, he told Jacob

“Give me a deep blowjob. Don’t stop sucking till I’m soft.”

Jacob was shocked. Was this going to be common?? Fartboy took on this new roll. He crawled under Brady’s desk table in this quiet corner of the library, and pulled his shorts down to show a rising pink cock over pale blond pubes. He took his cock in all at once, breathing in through his nose the pube and ball sweat that lingered from his underwear. He gagged a few times, making Brady harder. He could feel the top of his head squish into Brady’s belly fat with every pump.

As ordered, Fartboy kept sucking even after he shot thick ropes of cum down Jacob’s throat. He’d slowed down and was now breathing heavy, gently sucking on the softening cock. Brady lazily stroked Jacob’s hair, “Good job, Fartboy. I promise, tomorrow morning, I’ll rip a monster for you.”

“Thank you sir,” Brady’s cock slipped out of Jacob’s mouth.

The next guy Jacob visited was Emilio, and he sat a table by himself. He was tall, hot, and rugged with black hair, a beard, and darker skin. Jacob couldn’t tell if he were Latin or Mediterranean,

“Hey there ‘Fartboy’,” he smirked, “I don’t have to fart, but I could burp on you if you’d like?”

“Yes sir that is generous of you,” Fartboy leaned in, and Jacob felt Emilio’s hand grab the back of his neck as he pulled his face toward Jacob’s face, with an open mouth right over his nose like he was going to bite it, Emilio let out an obnoxious burp.

Farboy sucked it in, forcing Jacob to wonder what he’d had for dinner.

…

Free at last. Jacob lay awake in his ‘bedroom’. After he left the library, he spent the rest of the evening hidden away in the frathouse basement. Loud music was playing overhead, and several guys kept coming to visit him and stick their asses into the ‘fart door’, but at last it seemed they were going to sleep. Day one down…six more days for thai week, then fifteen more weeks to go.

The more he thought about the boys at the library, the more concerned he felt. He wasn’t as humiliated by Gabe, and kissing his ass felt like a nice thing to do after he’d been kind to him. Emilio also seemed friendly, and his burp didn’t stink as bad as he thought it would. If anything it made him curious for more. 

And most shocking was Brady…Jacob always thought of himself as straight. But he hadn’t really thought about girls since the hypnosis. Now, he was imagining Brady’s cock thrusting into his throat, and feeling him cum again and again…

It didn’t stop at just Brady, though. He thought back to Paul, the linebacker with the furry ass, and how badly it stank. He thought about Griffin’s smooth, beautiful ass. He thought about kissing Vinnie’s jeans…

“No,” Jacob’s eyes were wide open in horror, because his own dick was getting hard. His hand found it, and started to play with it, while Jacob fell into a trance thinking about each asshole he’d kissed, each fart he’d sniffed…

“No, no, no,” the details were getting stronger, as if he were experiencing them again, and his dick was harder than he’d ever felt it before. Each fart was uniquely remembered, its sound and the way it stank, and he could picture each ass perfectly, down to the last freckle or hair.

Jacob cried out in aggravation. The hypnosis had seeped all the way down into his sexuality…

So when his memories played back Harley’s breakfast farts, those horrible chili dog and beer farts from the nameless Texan, and then Diego’s deep ass massage, his eyes were full of tears. It was too disgusting, imagining with perfect recollection of frat brothers farting on his tongue. And yet he stuck his tongue straight up, as if pushing up one of their assholes.

“Please, sir,” Jacob whispered to himself, “Fart in my mouth,”

His memory sunk deep into the flavors and smells that came from Diego’s putrid asshole, and Jacob’s dick was overflowing. He shot out over his face, chest, belly…he was so fixated on Diego’s hole that he didn’t realize he’d came. His hand fell from his dick, but his orgasm didn’t stop. After his cock went soft, he was still laying there feeling his orgasm linger, mixing intimately with the smells of Diego’s farts, and how his hole twitched and clenched on his tongue, and that dozens of dozens of other frat brothers were only just getting started…

“Fuck” he sighed again. This was only day one. He could be getting all the blowjobs he ever wanted. Instead, he was being conditioned to get off on their farts. What if he couldn’t go back to normal?!

His phone buzzed. A text from Paul, “We’re famous!” and a link to a reddit page. He opened the link, and then his eyes widened in shock. On a subreddit dedicated to Fraternity life, a picture of him with his face ears deep in Paul’s furry ass had reached the top of the page with thousands and thousands of karma points. It was awarded “Best hazing of Hell Week!”. In the picture, Vinnie, Paul, and the other brothers had their thumbs up, some flashing AKO signs.

“This year’s Fartboy, Jacob Smallen, is taking his job more seriously than the other pledges. We think he’s a keeper.”

My mom remarried just before I became a senior in high school so even though I wasn't happy about their divorce or the idea of a “new dad ", I also felt that, fuck,  I'm 18 so I don't have to care about him or even pretend like he's an authority. I guess I was being rude at first because the more I got to know my mom's boyfriend Darren, then “my fiance, Darren” then “my new husband” and “your stepdad”, he seemed like a pretty decent guy. He towered over us and was bulking and stocky from years of construction for his main gig of flipping cheap houses around the city. Most men towered over me; scrawny, long brown hair, glasses, dorky and quiet. Darren had a hearty laugh and a warm face and a fun sense of humor, the one thing I'll add is that his humor often got immature. He would make comments about his heavy sweating and stink after a long day of work, or joke about how gassy foods would make him, from burping very loud after dinner if Mom wasn't around, or looking at a Mexican restaurant menu on his phone and showing it to me saying, “you know this is just going to be fuel for my Fart Factory later.”

Every comment about his gas made me tense up before laughing. No one knew about my fart fetish, or the disgusting fantasies I’ve had for men like Darren to use his large butt to dominate me and smother me and force me to smell his farts. And I’d love every second of it. But of course these were all just masturbation fantasies, so I always forgot to react naturally with an immature laugh whenever Darren would tease me.

It started off pretty light, those jokes about his Fart Factory or how the gas bill was going to go up this month… and when Mom was around he had no problem lifting a leg and letting it rip trying to make it echo through the house. I'd always laugh with him if I could hear it to show him that I approved, and then I would spend the next couple hours thinking about the sound and wishing I could have smelt it or at least have recorded it.

Whenever mom was out and it was just the two of us, he got a little more personal with his jokes. I'd be watching TV and suddenly I would hear and maybe even feel hot air farting over the back of my head. He loved sneaking his butt up against the back of the headrest and farting into my hair like that because it always made me jump. I laughed as the stink clouded over me and it made me start to cough. It was nasty from the three egg omelets he always made for breakfast for himself. And I secretly quietly took sniffs as he left at my face and said something like "there's more of that came from”.

Or I'd be in my room on my laptop and he'd walk by my open door and pause to fart just so I could hear it. more often than not he would stick his butt into the room and let rip and then giggle like a child as he rushed away. He had no idea that he was driving me crazy seeing his ass in gray sweatpants going commando (“I always let my boys go free” he told me while scratching his balls through the sweatpants)

And then it got more severe as our time together grew longer and longer, because it was the summer before my senior year where I hadn't got an internship or job or anything and wasn't sure what to do because I needed to have summer money. So my mom suggested that I go work with Darren and he'd pay me under the table (more than minimum wage). So I thought, shit, ok.

Well, going with him to help him flip houses and I guess learn some of the trade, all meant that I would have to spend hours with him in the early morning traffic going out to our workplace, and that meant about an hour and a half of his non-stop morning farts filling the car. After every third or fifth fart he’d have to open the window, laughing at how bad the stink was as his gas collected. I laughed too, and begged him to stop or control himself, but he and I both knew that wasn't going to happen. I was most terrified that he would notice my pitched tent poking up my jeans. I was embarrassed at the idea of being so turned on by my new stepdad, let alone because his non-stop gas…

And I didn't have to rely on memory of the morning car parts alone, because when we were working in the house, he would often bring his ass close to me when I was in a confined space and let rip. I'd look up and see your feet away his large butt stretching against his denim while the sound of his fart ripping tore through and hit my ears. and I would always laugh and my heart would pound because I knew that his disgusting cloud was going to fall over me any moment

Over that summer, he didn't mind getting closer and closer. We'd be walking upstairs with me behind him and he'd stop and let rip right in my face, which always shocked me and made my heart jump with excitement as I forced myself to laugh off the latest gas blast. Following him up the stairs I had to breath in his butt funk, which made my knees week. It was rank with eggs, beans, his typical breakfast burrito order. 

And once as I was bent on my hands and knees to set up the paint roller, I felt him press up against my left shoulder slowly, and I turned to see his massive backside eating my entire shoulder and sinking against me and warming up my left arm

“Don't want to scare you, but this is going to be a big one and I want it to vibrate for you”

And before I could even react to such a hot statement, I felt his butt slowly purr out a deep bassy fart into my shoulder and it kept going for a while, and I held my breath and didn't say anything as I tried to discreetly sniff the rancid air that was filling this corner of the room.

It lasted maybe 15 seconds but from down there it may as well have been 5 minutes straight. He  didn't laugh at first, and I realized that we were in an awkward moment of silence, so I let out a little laugh, which helped him slowly build up to his normal chuckle. He knew that he'd crossed a line, but because I laughed along it was okay, and that meant that I could expect more vibrations against my body.

He didn't have too many farts on our way back home that night, but when I got into bed I couldn't stop touching myself at the memory of feeling his ass press up against me like that…

Then maybe a week later, after more instances of him using my back when I was crouched on the ground, feeling the vibrations in my shoulder blades… or times when he’d say “Hey can you give me a hand?” and held his out so when I reached to return the shake, he’d pull my hand up against the seat of his pants and rip a gnarly one against my palm…or the times I’d be on the ground again and I’d feel him fart into my hair or some other exposed part of me (“You’re the perfect Gas Muffler!)... After a full week of fart humor, we had a Fourth of July party where he drank a lot of beer and promised to sleep-in most of the next day. 

Mom was out, and I found him lying on the guest bed wearing something that shocked me. It was a pair of dark Navy briefs but the seat of them had been ripped and a large hole exposed the lower half of my step dad's hairy thick ass. He bent his knee up a bit in his sleep so I could peer into his crack and get a glimpse of his hole buried in thick hair.

I thought I was going to faint. I quickly took my phone out and snapped a picture knowing that I was going to use it over and over again in the next few weeks. I had no idea of course how right I was going to be 

“Admiring the fart window, huh”

“I-,” I blurted out before shutting up. And then I forgot… How stupid of me… part of the bed’s design included a mirror along the headboard, and since he was sleeping on his stomach he could see me through the mirror, eagerly taking a photo of his naked ass the second I could.

“Yep I thought the fabric kept getting in the way so I cut it up to let my farts go free,” he stuck his finger up into his ass crack to give it a good long scratch. I watched him bring the finger up to his nose and he sucked it down, “Mhm, pretty rank.”

He laughed and looked up at me through the mirror. I didn't know what to do or say, and I froze up as if I were still a kid feeling guilty about being caught doing something bad. 

Then he pushed out a loud fart that made me jolt.

PPRTPRTPRPTRPTPP

“Well what do you think he asked how did you rate that Ripper?” he asked after laughing at his own butt.

“... a 9 out of 10”

 “What? Why not 10?”

“...cuz I didn't get a chance to smell it, so you know the sounds and length were pretty good but-,” I tried to sound like I was joking.

The pause made me feel sick. I shouldn’t have said that. But he broke the silence and said “won't get your nose in it right now and give me the right rating”

I hesitated at first, but I leaned in and sniffed the air closer toward his butt, my heart pounding and my dick raising because the stink was bad. Reeking from hot dogs and beer…

 “okay 10 out of 10, that’s bad,”

“I think I got another lined up…” he scratched his hairy cheek, pulling back and flashing me more of his crack in the process. 

“Can I-,” I blurred it out before I could stop myself, “can I stick my nose into the fart window?”

A long pause which made me feel like I shouldn't have asked that, but I saw a smile grew and he started to laugh and say “it’s your funeral.”

So I got down onto the bed and locked eyes with his ass crack as I slowly brought myself forward into the heat of the leftover fart vapors spewed around. His legs were warm and hairy and soft, and as I got closer to the fart window of his underwear, I thought I was going to come. So close his ass smelled rank, holding in all of yesterday’s sweat and grime, being churned up by revolting ass blasts. My heart was pounding in my ears and I stared at his ass afraid of what was about to happen.

He said “didn't you want your nose in?” and he reached his hand back and pulled at one of his large cheeks, flashing me is deep brown asshole in the middle of a nest of black ass crack hair

“It stinks really bad,”

He laughed at me, “Just like it should, now get in there I’m about to burst,”

I thought I was going to pass out, this felt like a bizarre dream that I’d wake up from any second now and be disappointed that it was all fake. I thought there was nothing real about this except using the memory of this vivid dream to jerk off to. But it was real, and the stink was making my nose burn. 

That didn't stop me and I sunk my face into his sweaty hairy ass crack and pressed my nose up into his gross asshole.

“I'm going to make this vibrate for you okay,” he grabbed the back of my head and before I could react

RPTRPTRPTPRTPRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

He let out his immature childish bullying laugh while his hands clawed into my hair to force my nose deeper up his disgusting fart hole. I gagged and sputtered in the rancid stink and my hands came up to try and pull out his wrist, but then I dropped them and instead pulled it his cheeks to get in some fresh air I had to take deep sniffs through my nose because my mouth was getting stuffed with his gooch chair. I moaned into it as I took deep sniffs of less concentrated fart. I thought my eyes were rolling back into my skull because I had already begun to cum. I clawed and squeezed his cheeks and smothered my face into his dank stink trench while hot cum shot through my underwear. I couldn't believe I did something so disgusting, and I closed my eyes and nuzzled my nose into his butthole, taking slower breaths.

“I knew you're a little pig boy” he said, “I knew you loved my farts. I want you to keep sampling my brew every day from now on. Up close and personal, since you’re the only other one who’d appreciate it as much as me. Do you like the sound of that? Little Pigboy?”

I moaned into his butt cheeks and my hands slowly rubbed his skin. There is no point in lying, I didn't want my nose to leave his putrid fart hole.

And so the rest of the summer he had a lot of fun finding different ways to get my nose into his butthole. We'd stop for a quick breakfast at McDonald's and after he gobbled down his McMuffin and hash browns, he'd urge me to go to the bathroom with him so he could unload a bit of morning gas.

He leaned against the sink and pushed out his big jeans coated butt out, waiting for me to either bend over to get near him from the back or from the side. I often like to go from the side because it was easier to get my face deep in there and soak in the brunt of this morning gas.

“Ugh this is fucking sick,” I pulled away because his ass was too ripe.

“C’mon piggy, I know you’re hungry.”

This felt filthy. But I couldn’t stop smiling and dove back in for more. I love his stink. 

And if we were sitting in traffic, and he felt like he had a big one to rip, he'd spread his legs a little bit and tell me to get right up into the seat. I’d make sure no one was looking and then I'd dip down and shove my face into his crotch get my nose between is jeans and the seat fabric, getting ready to suck up another rancid fart the heat of the air made me gag deep into the pleather, but he didn't have to worry about the steering wheel so he used his hands to hold my head down and force me to suck in very very slowly.

And at the house, just the two of us, every single time he had to rip he would call out “Oh Sniffie!” and I would have to drop what I was doing and sprint over to him and get my nose up his hole as fast as possible. He'd always be in a position with his knees bent and his ass sticking out so that I could die of and slide on my knees to slam my face into his butt and get bombarded with long and loud gas blast that vibrated my nose and shook my head

If we were taking a break and drinking water or a beer in the living room, he'd have me lay on top of a sleeping bag and pillow on the ground so that he could crouch over and use my face as his seat while he drank his beer. Even if he didn't have gas, I got to enjoy just relaxing time with my face smothered by his cheeks and sniffing the hot denim fabric for his sweat. But of course he usually did have gas, and so he would slowly fill my lungs with awful silent and deadly farts. In the privacy of a sleeping bag I would rub one out and I'd hear him chuckle as he'd watch the bag go up and down.

His favorite thing to do would be to have his ass say good night. That is right as he was going to go to bed he would come into my room, without knocking, and rush over to grab the back of my head and shove my nose into his boxers, or more often, into the open fart window underwear, and destroy my lungs with another noxious blast to say good night and he would grind my face in his crack and wiggle his hips around with a loud cartoonish kissing sounds.

In the morning, if we had to leave early, he made sure that the first thing I saw was his bare asshole and right as I'd open my eyes and see the large naked ass in front of me, it would let out the loud fart that would shake up my ears and make me start to gag on his rancid air.

“Morning sniffy, gotta get dressed,”

And I’d pull myself up and kisses naked ass , “good morning… is today going to stink?”

“it's going to fucking reek.”

I used to when I was younger but I've kind of gotten over that. Mostly because I have seen so much bizarre sexual content and fetishes I didn't even know were possible that farts are not so bad.

Also because I think people are more open about sexuality now and can laugh at the weirdness around us.

And because I've been writing stories that I'm always getting messages about reminding me that we aren't alone in this fetish

I feel like the socialized norm has become to hate on any and all ai use ‘ai slop’, and I largely agree. I don’t like the idea of ai being used to take creative rolls and jobs.

In this niche community though where writers are few. And the writers that are out there are constantly having to worry about their accounts being deleted, would personal use of ai for erotica be that unethical?

I understand the environmental implications as well but social isn’t great for the environment either but everyone seems to ignore that.

I’m not sure where I stand honestly. I think the differences between ai erotica and the stories written by humans are apparent. Usually the ai ones are repetitive, feel detached, and have poor continuity. But I’m sure those will all improve in the coming years. And I know some people use ai as just a tool for writing. Not everyone has time ability or time to write out their fantasies.

Some many sites that used to be great hosts for this community have either squeezed us out or been taken down themselves. I worry there will come a time when this community isn’t welcome anywhere and everyone is forced to turn for ai for any writing outside of their own. Of course it could only be a matter of time until all ai is regulated to not write erotica.

I'm against it for the environment as we are already in a full on crisis and it's depressing to see all the money and resources going to things that will drain water supplies and overload power grids instead of helping anyone who isn't a billionaire.

I don't know how much energy usage it consumes though, are the language models less bad than the image & video ones? Regardless I'd be against AI for erotica to share with others. Esp. charging others to view it. AI erotica can be ok for you personally to masturbate to, but the lack of humanity in the words makes it less appealing to me. AI uses strange analogies and turns of phrases and I can't imagine it would do well going into specific details that turn people on. Or, idk, sometimes I"m writing something out that suddenly clicks in some fucked up psychosexual part of my brain and that connection makes me shiver and get harder. I don't think a machine can create that. idk.

you arrived at his office and thanked him profusely. “It’s my pleasure, bud, only a specific time of personality is cut out to be my TA. And you’ve proven yourself to be just that type of pathetic, limp wrist, pushover all semester long”. Your face dropped, Professor Greg left you speechless. He stood up from his chair and walked around his desk. He turned your swiveling chair to the side so you were now facing him instead of his desk. 

Professor Greg began to unbuckle his belt as he spoke. “First task as my assistant should be pretty easy for ya as you’ve been doing it all semester.” Professor Greg undid his pants button and zipper. He then turned around and pulled down his khakis and underwear in one swoop. Your Professor bared his massive sweaty butt to your face. You wanted to jump up or say something to stop this but you knew he was right. “Kiss my sweaty ass!” Professor Greg bellowed with a levity that told you he’d done this before.

you licked your lips lightly on instinct. Grateful that Professor Greg didn’t see you do that. “Lets start with a hundred…no actually a hundred on each cheek! And afterwards I wanna hear you thank me for the job again, butt kisser!”

only other one right now is through blogspot, slowly adding stories to that one as a kind of back up. Will probably go back to submitting to Nifty (esp. since my blogspot looks terrible sorry everyone)

In the cramped heat of the box, I feel sweat dripping down my back. My neck aches from the angle it is fixed at. Looking up over the cusp of his naked ass cheeks, I can see my new boss’ back and the hair on the back of his head. His cheeks are molded over my face and the stink is rotten. My face is sticky with his sweat, feeling like it is glued into his ass crack. My nose slides a little further into his sweaty ass hole which flexes against it every now and then. I can feel his ass sweat mix with my own and every breath is humid and it fucking reeks. I’ve been stuck here for hours. How much longer until my next break?

…

I thought being a “Private Assistant” would be easy: go to the employer’s house and help him do tedious admin jobs as he works from home for his independent business. Michael called me with some questions, liked my answers, and invited me over for an interview. He was an attractive man with a successful home business. His house was nice and somewhat secluded, but had an underlying musty odor. Every room had candles burning but under the sandalwood I could smell something like sulphur. There must be a pluming issue or something like that he was covering up, I thought.

After my interview with Michael, he said I was perfect. I thought he meant I was a good fit because of my admin experiences. But he had something else in mind. Something bizarre and disgusting. And the explanation for the smell.

He had some unspecified digestive problems. Apparently, his gas was so “toxic” that his house always reeked from it (the first time I came over, I did notice a musky odor). Trying to hold it all in would make him cramp. He said that all his work is manageable and doesn’t need extra help there, but he does need some kind of air filter. 

The wicker chair also doubled as a box, with the seat as the lid. When he removed the cushion it showed that the seat had a large hole in the middle. My job would be to come over every day, squeeze into the box, and tilt my head up so my face would pop out of the hole. He would sit on my face as he did work and let out all his gas into my nose. That way, he could fart “as much as (he) wants” into the “air filter” and have stomach relief without making his house smell bad.

Of course I said no. I freaked out and told him to fuck off. He shrugged saying  that the market is tough, so if I ever need a job I can always come over.

I was so angry that he wasted my time with this. At first, I thought it was a tasteless prank and I kept waiting for him to start laughing. But he wasn’t joking at all. His house did reek even with a dozen candles. I told myself I would never be desperate enough to say yes to that.

But that was almost six months ago. Hundreds of applications and planning for follow up emails and getting no phone calls, no offer for interviews, not even a phone screening. The only emails I got were either generic auto reply messages, or notices that the job position has been filled by someone else. I tried to be as frugal as I could but living in a cheap studio in the city was eating away at my savings. 

I cried looking at Michael’s contact information, trying to think of options, anything else but him… businesses in my area were not hiring, restaurants and retail stores weren’t interested, I had no social media presence and had nothing to monetize. My body wouldn’t let me call him, but I had no other choice.

“Yes the position is still open!” He said over the phone, “To be honest I’m glad you changed your mind. No other applicant has the nose shape you do, and the air in here desperately needs a filter. Hours will be 8am-6pm Monday to Friday. I’ll probably need you for weekends but will let you know in advance. And I’ll try to make sure you don’t have to stay later than 6 but I cannot make promises.”

I just said yes to everything; the long hours, on demand weekends, meager pay, whatever he offered. 

“Perfect. You’ll start tomorrow. Try to get here before 7:30 for a quick orientation.”

I agreed to see him tomorrow. I collapsed with dread, fearing it would be wore than it already sounded.

…

Every fart was rancid.

There is no such thing as a “good” fart, only gas that isn’t as bad as they usually are. But Michael’s farts were the worst I’d ever smelled in my life. They were thick with that rotten egg stench. The background sulphur funk of his house amplified by 100 since that stink was after the gas dispersed around the room. Here, inside his ass crack, the stench was thick and condensed. So thick, even having my nose plugged into the source wasn’t enough to fully suck in the stink. I had to take very deep sniffs over and over to try and make sure none of the gas escaped, drinking in the thick egg funk. I needed to keep sniffing because I couldn’t afford to be fired.

His “digestive problems” were constant. The very first fart on my first day was unforgettable: the disgusting feeling of his ass crack coating my face, his grimey asshole twitching on my nose, and feeling it vibrate as it shot the awful eggy vapor up my nose. I retched immediately, and he said “Friendly reminder, filter, you need to take in as much as possible. I know it isn’t perfect so some will leak out, but sniff as if you could vacuum them all. As long as my house smells better at the end of today, you’ll get to stay working with me.”

I tried to sniff even though the stink was assaulting my nose. Every natural reaction wanted to fight, pull away or force as much strength as possible to shove him off of me. Instead I clenched my fists and took deep sniffs. Just in time to feel his asshole push into my nose, another eggy blast that demanded a dozen very deep heavy sniffs. Besides, straps under the lid were securely wrapped behind my head to keep it at the best angle possible for my nose to wedge into his asshole. Trying to push the lid up would be impossible, and I fear trying it might end up breaking my neck.

(Later on, the devil on my shoulder told me that this could kill me and I would be free of this awful job and all of the life demands that forced me to take it. But he also delighted in giving me an alternate scenario; a timeline where I try to push him off, snap my neck, and become paralyzed from the neck down. I wouldn’t need the rest of my body for this job, so such a tragedy wouldn’t interrupt my workflow too much. These dark thoughts were a distraction from the asshole against my nose, as much as they could try to be.)

From then on, it seemed like he was farting every few minutes. In that first half hour I thought he was having a gas attack and it would stop soon, but after several waves of gas without any longer pauses between, dread pooled in my stomach at the thought that this could be his average amount of gas. There might even be days where his guts “acted up” more than they already did. I tried to push the thought away, tried to cling to the hope that this was an unusual gas attack and that this wouldn’t be every hour of every day. But by the time I had to suck in what felt like the hundredth fart of the morning, I realized this would be the norm. Each passing hour of that first day made it more and more clear; he really did need an air filter.

Every day I had to wake up early and sit through rush hour traffic to get to his house. Stressful traffic made worse from each minute bringing me closer to Michael’s ass. When I got to his house it would smell worse than the day before, definitely from not having an air filter at night. I technically wasn’t supposed to start until 8 but he’d strap me into the chair the moment I got there. What’s an extra 30 minutes compared to the next several hours of ass hell? 

He would fart nonstop from 8am to 6pm (not counting the few breaks he allowed me, and not counting the nights he’d leave me in until 7pm, or extra Saturdays he often “needed”, or full weekends. At the end of my first month, he had me come in on Sunday, then after the full week he made me come in that weekend, and after the second full week he also needed me for a “half day” (really 8am-2pm) that Saturday. 14 consecutive days with only one day off before the Monday of another work week…

He would only let me out twice: twenty minutes for lunch, and one random block of ten minutes that was probably a legal minimum requirement.  Too short to get lunch out, but that didn’t matter since the nausea took away my appetite. I spent my breaks on his back yard patio trying to get as much fresh air as I could before needing to get back in the box. My body was sore from the box; my back being curved, my ass numb from sitting on the floor for hours, my limbs weak from hugging my legs to my torso. I’d look at Michael through the window as he stared at his laptop with a grimace. I knew that even 10 minutes was long enough for his gas buildup to get uncomfortable. The first fart after I’d get in the box at the end of my breaks was always larger and longer than most, and Michael would let out a sigh of relief that he got his filter back.

I’d feel his asshole purse against my nose and no matter how hard I tried to brace for it, the slow rolling vibrations of his farts would shoot up my nose, flooding my sinuses with a burning stench. How can anyone be this gassy? It was unbelievable. Every hour of every day. Each fart was so long too; he never let out a little toot, it was always three whole seconds, sometimes more. He always laughed when he had a long one, like he was bragging to another dumb male friend. He told me his record was 12 seconds after holding it in during a dinner date. 

He incorporated protein into his diet as much as he could, I noticed. His workout routine started after I’d leave for the night. I don’t know why he would do that, knowing how bad his gas can get. But I realized now that he has an “air filter”, he can eat whatever he wants.

…

So I sit in the cramped box underneath his disgusting ass, knowing the next fart was brewing and might explode any minute now. But I feel the humidity and realize it is going to be a silent one. Those were the worst. The slow silent fart seeps out of his asshole and pours into my nostrils. My tearing eyes roll back in my skull from the rancid stench. They are always so hot and thick. The silent fart keeps going, overflowing my nose.

I fight my natural reaction and vacuum suck in as much of his gas as I can. I didn’t want him to smell anything or I might lose this job.

Lightheaded from sucking in so deep, I tried to mutter “can I take a break?”

“Not right now,” He said flatly, “I’ll let you out when I’m done with these emails. Fifteen minutes.”

I wanted to cry. He said fifteen minutes earlier, maybe half an hour earlier. I prayed that he was close to finishing whatever to do list item he was on. 

But a noise from his computer filled me with dread: it was shuffling cards and a little “congrats!” tune. He wasn’t even working. He was playing solitaire. He didn’t care that I’d been in this box for hours now and hadn’t had a break yet; he’ll let me out when he feels like it. I was still fighting back tears. If I demanded this break he would surely tell me my attitude is not a good fit with this role. If he wants to play games during work hours, he’s the boss so he can. 

“Oh and I know this is a lot to ask,” he started to say, “but this Saturday I’m going out with a lady friend. So I’ll need you to stay over. I have other straps that can keep you secure while I sleep. And I know it’s not pleasant, but since you might fall asleep down back there, your nose won’t be enough to filter them unconsciously. I have a gag that can keep your mouth open even if you do pass out. Shouldn’t be too much to handle with your experience now. And I’ll pay you double.”

I was about to burst into tears. I could barely afford rent and other expenses already, so I really needed to say yes to any opportunity for money. Even if it meant a whole day of fart sniffing, then immediately after, a whole night of farting into my mouth. 

“Also, I’ll need you right after our date. You know how backed up I get. Hah, I might even break my old record!”