gross? yes please

As was often the case, Miljan’s stomach didn’t feel particularly well. He was sitting on the couch next to Idris, the taller man’s head resting on his shoulder and his arm loosely around Miljan’s waist. They were watching an educational show about the manufacturing of airplanes, so Miljan could tell himself he was being productive. 

He’d eaten a lot more than usual today, munching on some work-provided lunch and taking home some of the leftovers to snack on later. It wasn’t particularly characteristic of him to fall victim to gluttony, but well, he did hate to waste food, and nobody had been around to see how much he’d taken. That, and Idris had gotten home a few hours after him, giving him plenty of time to finish everything without being seen. He also hadn’t been particularly thorough about ensuring none of the food contained dairy, though he often threw his lactose intolerance by the wayside and assumed he’d be fine. He was satiated, but also quite bloated, his usually flat stomach slightly rounded out. Luckily, the loose sweatshirt he was wearing obscured it.

He shifted uncomfortably as his stomach let out a low gurgle, his insides whining a bit as they protested digesting all he’d had to eat. There was a distinctly unwelcome pressure beginning to build in his gut, but he was quite content with the position he was in. Idris’s long, curly hair gently tickled his neck, and he found himself absolutely enraptured, as he always was, by the feeling of being held so securely. He might find it odd or suspicious if I suddenly leave, Miljan mused to himself, picking at his fingernails as he ruminated on what to do. That might draw more attention. That, and he could feel as if I’m rejecting him and his affection. 

Interrupting his train of thought, his stomach grumbled again, much louder this time, as his face turned warm with embarrassment. “Oh, is your stomach upset, love?” Idris asked, and Miljan swallowed. “No. I’m fine,” he responded curtly, resisting the urge to place a hand on his aching midsection. He was an adult man; he could keep control over his bowels. 

More uneasy, tight cramps rang through him as the urge to release some of his gas only worsened. His stomach was audibly unhappy with his decision, murmuring and growling as he coughed a bit to cover up the loudest of the sounds. Idris had seen him more vulnerable than anyone else, but he could not allow him to see or hear him doing such disgusting things. 

From a young age, it had been ingrained in Miljan that belching or flatulating were things you should be immensely ashamed of, and other people were right to judge you for doing so. It simply wasn’t an option for him to allow Idris to see him that way.

But fuck, he was so full…he made the mistake of imagining how blissful it’d be to lay down in bed and expel all the gas his body was so dutifully producing, but quickly set it aside. No, Idris would hear, and that would be a nightmare. His stomach was starting to cramp up, causing him to wince slightly as it let out another long groan.

Just as he considered getting up, the unthinkable happened as a large bubble of air rushed up his throat, and he let out a quiet, but clearly audible closed-mouth burp. 

His humiliation made itself apparent immediately as he flushed red, tensing up as he prepared to be chided for his disgusting lack of control. “...I apologize. I…cannot believe I let that occur,” he said quietly, averting his gaze downward.

His tense state mixed with one of confusion as Idris kept his position close to Miljan, seemingly unbothered by what he’d done. “Nothing to worry about,” he responded, pressing his face into Miljan’s neck. “Your stomach must hurt, huh?”

“...It’s a bit unsettled. It’s not anything to concern yourself with,” Miljan said, cursing his intestines as they swelled and bubbled with gas desperately seeking to emerge from him. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he continued, moving as if to stand up. “I…I’m sorry I can’t control myself.” So disgusting, he thought, wishing he could crawl into a hole and never return. 

When he felt Idris readjust, he looked him in the face, as the man took one of his hands in his own. “You don’t have to leave, Miljan…it’s really okay,” he said softly, before pressing a kiss to Miljan’s forehead.

“It…it’s going to get worse,” Miljan said dryly, as he winced in discomfort. “It is unacceptable to subject you to something so vile. You shouldn’t accept it, either.”

“I don’t mind. I really, truly mean that,” Idris said, and Miljan looked around skeptically. “What would make me happy is you feeling better. Your poor tummy needs some relief,” he continued, before slowly placing a hand under Miljan’s shirt to rest on his gurgling stomach. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Stay here, and just…don’t try to hold back. You’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

Reeling in shock from the new sensation of a soft hand rubbing his aching stomach, Miljan’s mind was blank. Was this some kind of joke, or trap? How could Idris genuinely insist on wanting to keep him so close even as he showed the worst weaknesses his body had to offer?

He didn’t have much time to wonder before a sharp, stabbing pain in his lower abdomen struck him, and he whispered an apology as he involuntarily let out a loud, abrupt fart. I’m sorry. I’m disgusting, I know. I’m sorry, he thought, almost feeling as though he could start crying. He was weak, he was failing at controlling himself, he should be punished…

“It’s alright, Miljan,” Idris whispered as he felt Miljan tense up and back away. He rubbed more gentle circles on Miljan’s belly, muttering something about how tight it felt, as Miljan tried to rationalize the burning embarrassment he felt with the euphoric sense of acceptance, and confusion, and….as much as he hated to admit it, physical relief. 

Idris was still just as close to him as he was before, seemingly unbothered by his bursts of gas, so…perhaps he was telling the truth. Though Miljan couldn’t understand why Idris wouldn’t be disgusted by him, it…certainly seemed as if he wasn’t.

Trying to refocus his attention on the television, Miljan felt conflicted over how to proceed. His body made the choice for him, though, as Idris ran his hand over a spot that seemingly dislodged a large pocket of gas. Unable to react in time, Miljan let out a long, deep burp, one that provided him with so much relief that it left him breathless when it finally drew to a close. Again, he tensed, feeling like a deer in headlights, like he had just committed a horrible, vile sin, as he apologized again.

 “Oh, that feels better, doesn’t it?” Idris said, applying a bit more pressure to Miljan’s stomach as he continued his caressing. It would be far, far too mortifying to admit to it, but…god, yes, he felt so much better. But he knew the onslaught had only started.

“It’s going to be so bad, Idris…”

“That’s alright. Let it go.”

Before Idris had even finished the sentence, Miljan had lifted his leg slightly to let out a lengthy, ripping fart, the apology coming as a reflex to quell some of the shame. Almost instantly, he wrinkled his nose at the foul, eggy odor; this was, perhaps, the single most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him. But at this point, the pressure in his guts was so intense, especially with Idris doing his best to alleviate it, that he could not hold back. Hell, if he tried to stand up and leave, he knew he’d be leaving a cloud of foul gas in his wake, anyway.

“Pardon me,” he managed to say, before the pain in his stomach forced out an unpleasantly wet sounding fart, one he tensed his muscles just to stop. “No, I…Idris, it’s so disgusting,” he said, using every ounce of his willpower to control himself. Idris placed his other hand on Miljan’s stomach before continuing his massage, taking a moment to look at Miljan with a sympathetic expression. “Let it out. It’ll be okay,” Idris said, and though Miljan felt terrified at the prospect, he relaxed his stomach and let the rest of the fart rumble out, warming the spot where he sat and filling the air with an awful stench.

He lost track of how often he was apologizing, barely able to think as he let out a few silent farts, polluting the air around him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, face beet red with shame, as Idris continued rubbing his belly. “I just can’t st- ooUUAAAAAAARRRP!” He said, as a sudden burp interrupted his sentence. …Maybe I should just forgo talking for now, he thought, relaxing a bit as Idris’s skilled hands soothed his discomfort.

He spent a few minutes laying back, letting out short farts that were practically falling out of him. The humiliation couldn’t get any worse, he supposed, so he may as well relieve his stomachache. Then, he felt a deeper rumble in his lower intestines, as it seemed like the worst of the gas still hadn’t shown itself. “...Idris, this…I need to warn you. They’re going to get worse,” he said with a tone of severity. This was Idris’s last out, before he committed to something he was certainly unprepared for. “I’ll be okay. Oh, Miljan, you must be so uncomfortable, huh?” Idris said, in a voice so sweet that Miljan felt he must lack a sense of smell. 

Miljan’s stomach churned and let out an ominous growl before he applied the slightest pressure to his muscles and forced out an absolutely disgusting fart. It was impossibly deep and rumbly, lasting for a solid five seconds as it bubbled and popped against the fabric of his sweatpants. He let out an involuntary sigh of relief before another gurgling wet fart blasted out of him, followed by a deceptively cute hiccup and a huge, throat-rattling belch.

“You’re doing so good,” Idris murmured in his ear. “I know that must feel nice.”

He couldn’t admit to it, and as he pushed out an airy fart that felt like it dragged on for minutes, he hoped Idris had missed the soft moan of relief he’d let out. The air was thick with the scent of Miljan’s pungent gas; his farts had a tendency to stick to any surface unlucky enough to endure them. Considering how uncomfortably sloppy and wet his most recent releases were, he knew the underwear he was wearing were a lost cause.

He was dizzy from embarrassment, sure that in the aftermath of this episode, he’d feel too ashamed to ever show his face again. But for now, he was also very desperate. As the food in his stomach and intestines complained about its fate, he pressed his fist to his lips to muffle another long belch. Each time he expelled more gas, he expected Idris to finally come to his senses and leave, but Idris would only respond with gentle encouragement, surely feeling Miljan’s burps rumble in his chest from his position.

Trying to settle his nerves, knowing anxiety only made his stomach issues worse, Miljan leaned back as a quiet fart slipped past the seat of his pants. These were all practically involuntary; if Miljan worked to push out his gas, the consequences might be devastating, although it would make this end sooner…

Considering his options, Miljan tried to keep his expression neutral as his intestines gurgled wildly. He parted his legs just slightly; if he passed gas on purpose, wouldn’t that be even more disgusting than what he was already doing? But Idris’s hands on his stomach, guiding the air out of him, made him feel a bit less terrified as he tensed his abdominal muscles.

The first fart to come out of him was so forceful it caught him off-guard, and his face flushed anew at how obnoxiously loud it was. It sounded like ripping fabric and left a foul, heavy stench in the air when it ended. At this point, Miljan was too mortified to even continue apologizing, so he only pushed out another bubble of gas working its way to its exit. Airy at first, it built in volume until it took on a wet, slapping quality, before petering out again. 

Presumably, Idris could feel how tense Miljan was, and see how his hands were trembling with nervousness at what he was doing. “Everything’s okay, Miljan. It’s completely alright,” he whispered as Miljan let out a soft, unrestrained belch. 

“...I made poor decisions today. I ate far more than my body could handle,” Miljan said, feeling slightly more comfortable bearing down to squeeze out more gas. None emerged, though, seemingly stuck somewhere higher up in his stomach. Unable to handle the shame of a verbal request, he took Idris’s hands and positioned them slightly higher on his stomach, and made him apply slightly more pressure with them. 

He spent a few minutes shifting in discomfort before his next batch of gas made itself known. “...I apologize,” he said, nearly inaudibly, before tightening his abdomen and forcing out a monstrous fart, one that dragged on so long he became too embarrassed to keep track of it. He held his breath, focusing on expelling the rippling, gurgling fart as Idris kissed his neck, praising him for his eruptions, leaving him feeling sick with shame but high from endorphins. It seemed the gas had all firmly moved into his intestines and sought escape from his lower half.

There was a blissful euphoria in releasing all of the air trapped in his bowels, in finally allowing his muscles to relax and provide him the relief he so primarily craved. Though it was unbearably humiliating, he was starting to find pleasure in it. 

He tensed his stomach and ripped a fart that seemed to signal something more solid coming fast, but…for now he was caught up in the relief. Some of these farts sounded a bit damp for his liking, but as he gripped the arm of the couch and let a hot silent fart singe the seat of his pants, he struggled with caring.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt as if Idris's grip on him had tightened a bit, helping him to squeeze out the unpleasant trapped wind. He barely had to try as a sloppy-sounding bubbly fart ripped its way out of his backside, wrinkling his nose at the smell. “...I might depart for the restroom soon,” he said to Idris, though the soft kiss Idris pressed to his neck made him reconsider leaving in such a hurry.