DaveFarts - Episode 34 âFart Flightâ [Episode List] Dave's stomach gets messy during a flight.
POV: Tim
âThis is the last time we do this before dawn.â I said, as we approached the airport entrance.
Dave and I have a flight to catch to meet Dana and our other friends for a long-awaited vacation.Â
Because of work (and the unreliable airline), we had to cut it down to just today. The consolation is that weâll spend a good week together instead of the planned 10 days. However, the time (5:00 AM) is really inconvenient... at least for us chronic late sleepers.
Add to that the fact that Dave, although normally a well-organized person... tends to become surprisingly anxious at the airport, because of the check-in, security and, though he wonât admit it, also because of the flight itself.
I donât mind flying, I know itâs safe. I do agree with my bro when he says that itâs sorcery donât get me wrong, but Iâm able to fall asleep comfortably even at 30.000ft. Dave, on the other hand, while terrified⌠sometimes he tends to wonder if some random plane noise is gonna kill us all.
âRelax man.â I said. âWeâre right on schedule -maybe a bit too muchâ
âI know I knowâŚâ
At least heâs aware of when heâs being unnecessarily anxious. Made funnier by the fact that heâs usually the one who plans this stuff. I canât blame him: weâre a bunch of travel princesses.
We walked around the airport because, of course, we arrived way too early. However, we managed to check in as planned. Now we have to figure out how to spend the next empty 90 minutes of this hot summer night in the only airport where the air conditioning doesnât work. Itâs not like we werenât properly dressed (I was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, while Dave a grey one, and black swimming trunks).
Since we departed later than expected, and most people were already enjoying their vacation elsewhere, the airport was quite empty. Of course, we werenât alone, but sometimes we felt like characters in one of those 28-things-later movies.Â
The good news is that in the terminal, near our gate, there were plenty of free seats, so we quickly took advantage of them. We put on our earphones, trying to listen to a podcast or some shit like that. However, after just 15 minutes, Dave gave me a gentle nudge to get my attention... as well as to wake me from the nap that was about to claim me.
âI think Iâm starving.â he whispered, as he eyed a burger joint not far from us.
Iâve always liked how airports have no rules when it comes to, well, time. It was almost 4:00 AM and yet we could still have a cheeseburger if we wanted to. Well, not me in this case. Donât get me wrong I love cheeseburgers at any time as much as the next person, but we had a relatively long flight ahead of us, so Iâd rather get something to eat (which we paid for by the way) on the plane itself later. Plus, Iâm not even hungry.
Without saying much, we simply stood up, put our earphones back in our big backpacks, and walked towards Daveâs coveted food.Â
Weâre not new at eating like pigs in the middle of the night, and Daveâs stomach is remarkably reliable. We sat one some tall stools in front of the counter (it was more of a take-away place) and waited for the guy on the other side to take our orders (well, Daveâs order).
âFuck Iâm sweating.â Dave said, as he checked the burgers on the menu.
âI know right. This airport is a sauna.â
âWhich is why Iâm asking for an ice-cold coke as well.â
Iâll never be able to drink and eat like this at 4:00 AM, not before a flight at least.
âAre you sure this isnât stress eating?â I asked, aware of how annoying I may sound sometimes.
Dave just gave me an indeed annoyed look in response. It wasnât a proper answer, but I took that as âYesâ, even if he probably meant the opposite.
The guy working at the burger joint finished cleaning some glasses then turned to my friend, as if he already knew he was the one actually craving food.
âHi, good morning, evening, night? Iâll take the Lassen Steak, with your Shasta sauce, thanks.â Dave quickly ordered, handing the menu to the waiter.
The guy wrote a note on his smartphone, rolled his eyes, and then with a boring tone said something he probably said many many times before, without even looking at us.
âI must warn you Sir, both the sauce and the burger you chose are named after Cascade volcanoes, which is a naming convention we use for our spiciest food. If you have a flight to take we highly-â
The guy stopped monologuing, noticing Daveâs own bored expression.Â
âWhatever. Thanks for choosing us. Enjoy an eruption of flavor etc...â
A rather awkward silence followed.
âIâll⌠Iâll just have some water, thanks.â I whispered, fearing the man working surrounded by people on vacation.
â
âThis is probably my lack of sleep and poor taste.â Dave said, as he took another big bite of his dinner/breakfast. âBut dude this is the best burger I ever had.â
âTruly an eruption of flavor,â I said, sarcastically.
The guy on the other side of the counter immediately blew into a small, noisy party horn, with the most bored and disillusioned expression I had ever seen, then spoke in his monotone voice.
âThey pay us more if we do this crap whenever a customer mentions our payoff.â
âReally?â I asked, incredulous.
A moment of silence, a silence broken by a simple, âNo.â He then disappeared in the kitchen.
I leaned towards Dave. âI think weâre the only ones who can see him.â I whispered.
âSee who?â Dave asked, playing along⌠hopefully.
â
Finally, after a⌠I assume delicious meal and some more time spent sleeping to podcasts, the time came to board the plane. Despite being sleep-deprived zombies, we managed to not forget anything back in the terminal, and sat comfortably next to each other near the front of the plane, as planned (with Dave sitting by the window).
âSo if we crash-land weâre the first to notice.â I darkly joked, just to mess with Dave.
As I put the backpacks under our seats, I gave a quick look around, noticing that just like the airport, the plane itself was basically almost empty. Man, we truly are late to the vacation party everyone went to, uh?
What I also noticed however is that, unlike the airport, the planeâs AC was working a bit too well: it was freezing, so much so that I quickly took a jacket out of my backpack and put it on, before the plane started moving.
I turned my attention to Dave: him being relatively nervous was oddly cute⌠and amusing.
âRelax, itâs gonna be fine.â I said.
âItâs not that.â he bluntly answered.
I noticed he was sweating, despite being like the North Pole in here. Before I could ask anything, the plane started moving fast, really fast, and finally we took off, leaving our responsibilities behind⌠for a couple of days at least.
â
Around 20 minutes in, the flight was going smoothly. I had a book to read, the plane was silent (both people-wise and engineering-wise), way more relaxing than I expected. Maybe we should depart later than everyone every year from now on. I turned to Dave, who was weirdly silent and completely still in his seat.
I noticed he was still sweating. I genuinely worried for a moment. Was he sick?
âDude⌠you ok?â I asked.
âNo.â Dave muttered, his eyes glued on the bathroom door not far from us.
I connected the dots rather quickly.
âLooks like Mount St. Helens is erupting in there.â I joked, poking at Daveâs belly with my finger.
âFirst of all, it was a wordplay on Lassen Peak. And the sauce was named after Mount Shasta, the second highest peak in the Cascades.â he said, jokingly looking offended by my lack of knowledge of US geography and geology. âYou ignorant swine.âÂ
âThatâs why the ghost said it was an eruption of flavor, silly me!â I remarked, sarcastically.
âBut yeah, that burger is doing numbers in my stomach.â he admitted.
âAnd the temperature difference between in here and the airport certainly doesnât help.â I added.
Dave remained silence for a couple of seconds, then looked at me.
âThanks, I didnât even think about that. Now I got one more thing to be nervous about.â
I found that incredibly amusing. I know, Iâm a bad friend, and I know how bad this stuff can be⌠but itâs nothing that a bathroom break couldnât fix.
âThis is the captain speaking. We inform you that the restrooms are currently out of service. We apologize for the inconvenience. We wish you a pleasant flight.âÂ
âUh⌠what a on oddly comedic timing.â I commented.
To add salt to the wound, the plane shook a bit (nothing to be worried about), which only made Daveâs situation worse.
âIâll be 100% honest, because I wanna help, I swear Iâm not finding this funny at all.â I lied, about the ânot finding it funnyâ I mean. âAre you going to shit yourself?â
âNo bro.â Dave said. âNever.â he kept going. âI can hold it, but Iâll probably need to channel all this energy⌠in another way.âÂ
Despite suffering, Dave managed to smirk and wink at me, and given what was going on, I instantly realized what he meant. The fact that heâs so chill about it even right now is, well, endearing, but holy shit, weâre flying, please refrain yourself from hot-boxing a fuckinâ plane.
âNot that you mind, right?â he then asked, winking again, which at this point I assumed he was mostly his eye twitching because of the pain.
âBro please⌠just resist a bit more.â
âOh, what happened? Is Tim getting nervous?â he mocked me.
âWeâre on a plane. Think of the passengers.âÂ
âWeâre literally alone here.â Dave observed.
âNo weâre not.â
I turned around, looking at the back to the plane.
âCarl is there. Hi Carl!â I waved at him.
âHi stranger. I canât wait to see my wife!â Carl shouted from the back of the plane, many rows behind us.
âSee?â I turned back to Dave. âCarl is nice. He wants to see his wife.â
âJust admit it.â Dave said, the smirk back on his face. âYou canât wait to hear what they sound like.â
Dave teases me often, but this was a new low⌠or high, given weâre also flying, even for⌠whateverâs going on between us since he found out about my fart kink. All I know is that all this teasing made me rock hard, my cargo shorts barely containing the tent I pitched between my legs.
âJust do it.â I simply muttered.
Not because I was that thirsty, believe me, but because my bro, my gassy bro, already made up his mind. Either he turned whatever he had going on in his stomach into gas, or heâd shit himself. I donât know how he could even trust his farts in his situation. Then again, I know what heâs capable of: his farts are loud, long, proud, but heâs also very good at controlling them, even their pitch. A musician of some sort, with a very peculiar instrument.
Daveâs temporary smug aura wore off quickly. He massaged his belly, who indeed looked a bit bloated, then my seat began to shake, and not because of some turbulence⌠not one coming from outside the plane at least.
I instinctively stared at my friendâs crotch area, the black shorts hugging it all nicely, barely containing the silent earthquake my friend was producing. I could barely hear the fart being ripped: as I said, Dave was good at controlling them, and he chose to âdiluteâ the rip to make it longer, but also way less loud. It made a continuous muffled, rumbling sound, one that only I could hear, being so close to the source. I then turned to my friendâs sweaty face: the smug smirk he had moments before disappeared in favor of a very focused facial expression, his eyes closed, carefully planning every single push. You know itâs bad when even Dave is afraid of his own farts.
Then, the smell hit me. My friend wasnât shitting himself, but given the stench, he may very well be. Possibly the most rancid, disgusting and nauseating stench that my nostrils ever smelt. Daveâs farts are usually smelly of course, but their bark is usually stronger than their bite, which I like given how much I enjoy their loudness. This time, they skewed in the opposite direction, completely: if this was ripped directly into my face, I would have told my friend to stop and let me go; even considering my gross kink, this would have been too much for me to endure.
Daveâs attitude, however, always guarantee a standing ovation from my dick, and his smugness from before did the trick. Not that I wasnât enjoying the fart, mind you⌠but I was happy that I wasnât his seat, to say the least.
I was grateful that the plane was mostly empty, because that would have made things worse for everyone. Still, I heard the very few people sitting around us, a few rows back, muttering something, making comments about a âsomething smelling weirdâ.
My friendâs AOE was inescapable.
I wasnât even keeping track of how long this fart was, but I could tell you itâs been like 2 minutes, and the muffled noise it made basically became part of the ambience at this point.Â
Dave finally let out a sigh of relief, and carefully adjusted his position, which made some more of the stench trapped under his ass reach my nose. I then looked at him, and he indeed had the face of someone who was feeling better. He gently patted his belly, then turned to me, laughing a bit, trying to keep it quiet.
âMaybe thatâs too much even for you.â he said. Itâs like he could read my mind.
âAnd yet, I am the only one in the world brave enough to sit by your side.â
Dave chuckled. âThatâs the spirit.â he massaged his belly a bit more. âHope youâre ready for your next quest, hero.â
This time, Dave leaned a bit, towards the window, so that his shorts-clad ass was just a bit pointed in my direction. He smiled at me, the teasing bastard, and carefully let another blast out. This time started a bit louder than expected, which made him laugh, and quickly corrected the sound and the pitch, once again going for a long and rumbly approach.
And rumbly it was, other than bubbly⌠dangerously bubbly I might say.
My gassy bro noticed my concern, muttered âDonât worry, Iâm a pro.â and kept pushing the gas out. I donât know what was going on in his stomach, but fart fetish or not that seemed like an useful trick. Turning your stomach-ache into gas instead of a shitty mess? Is it possible to learn this power?
I got harder, the view of Daveâs shorts-clad ass and his smirking face (with the fart going on as a bgm) was a always sight to behold for my own kinky ass, dammit. If he keeps going like this, Iâm the one whoâs gonna need a bathroom, you know why.
But I could still tell that my friend was in pain: I could see how focused he truly was, how drops of sweat slowly ran down his forehead. He was acting smug because thatâs how he is, but it was also his way to cope with the pain, and teasing me about my kink always amused him, so in a way I was being helpful.
This fart was essentially a long series of muffled, rumbly, wet-ish toots, each renewing the putrid stench that made my nostrils burn. I was enjoying the view, until a flight attendant passed by our seats, walking towards the back of the plane.
Dave abrubtly stopped farting until she was far enough to resume his eruption, and we could tell that the woman walked faster to outrun the invisible AOE of stench my friend was constantly releasing.
âIf you keep going, theyâre gonna call for an emergency landing.â I half-joked.Â
Dave laughed. âAnywhere with a restroom is fine for me.â
The final stretch of this second long series of farts was a longer, slightly louder wet toot, which got even Dave startled. He sat back normally, trapping the remaining stench under his ass, and he looked relieved when he realized that no, that risky toot at the end didnât bring any⌠extra stuff.
I tried to focus myself on doing something else, but with the turbulence going on next to me, itâs gonna be impossible.
POV: Dave
Fuck, I thought I almost lost the battle with that last toot.
Alright, as gross and disgusting it is, I gotta give it to Tim: heâs enduring those like a pro. He could simply change seat but I know he doesnât want to leave me alone when suffering like this. Yes, heâs kinky, but he also genuinely cares about me, this stuttering idiot. Thereâs only one person who can sit next to me right now, and Iâm glad it was you, you kinky bastard.
I do this thing that when Iâm nervous I can barely hide it, so whenever I can I try to act smug, but I know Tim can read me like an open book. Itâs dawn, I can see from outside the window how high we are⌠a cruel reminder of how much I hate flying. Iâm not scared but⌠come on. Fuck, itâs like someone just punched me in my stomach, that fuckinâ burger: my seat is going full Pompeii under my erupting ass.
I need to fart again, dammit. I can tell this one is gonna be the riskiest one yet. This is my holeâs event horizon: I have to be incredibly careful when pushing this one out, or else Iâm gonna, literally, shit myself. But if I donât do it, my stomach is gonna blow for how bloated I feel. I took a deep breath, then I coughed: this place smells terrible. Sorry, not sorry.
Oh fuck what was that, why did the airplane shake again. Tim didnât even notice, the flight attendants didnât care, come on Dave stop acting like this, itâs the fumes in your stomach reaching up to your brain, clouding your judgement.
Alright, here goes nothing; if I shit myself, tell Dana I love her, and tell my friends theyâre weirdos. I closed my eyes, I leaned again just a bit to ease the fart (and hopefully only the fart) out. Tim, I apologize if Iâm gonna shit on our backpacks, but this is a risk any man should be willing to take at one point in their lives. At one point, we should all trust our farts, even in our darkest moment.
Damn that spicy sauce is burning my asshole, the fart is just too strong I canât handle it⌠and itâs louder than I expected. The airplane shook just as I started farting and thatâs it, I almost lost it, I could tell I was unwillingly growing a tail, but luckily I clenched by cheeks (and teeth) just in time to avoid any unfortunate accident.Â
"I have had it with these motherfucking farts on this motherfucking plane!" I muttered, both me and Tim laughing at me quoting an excellent movie.
Iâm in so much pain, I donât know for how long I could literally trick my body into shitting air instead of the actual thing. And itâs freezing in here, which is only making things worse. If I survive this, I shall write a memoir about it, my greatest achievement: not shitting myself at 30.000ft.
Oh dammit it got loud again, and even my own stench is distracting me for focusing on whatâs important: deflating myself with style. So I turned to my kinky friend, trying to act cool and smug, and winked at him. He reacted by giving me the middle finger, which made me laugh, almost making me lose control again.
Whatever I do, this is a battle I canât stop being focused on, so I closed my eyes again, picturing our sunny destination, and let the fart rumble freely, not too loud, not too silent, just the right amount. My anus was burning however, that fuckinâ spicy sauce, what did I do this to myself. It was a good sauce, I just had bad timing.
But yeah it was very good I should buy some once we land.
Another sudden loud toot: thank goodness the plane is mostly empty, or Iâm sure theyâd ask me to politely open the window next to me -death seems much better than enduring this stench, and I could tell it was bad, not just because I couldnât stand it, but even Tim was nauseated by it (and I knew he wasnât faking it).
âTimâŚâ I muttered. âTell Dana I love her.â I jokingly said, as I bravely gave one last push, ending this risky rip with a short, loud toot.Â
I opened my eyes, and luckily Tim was the only one staring at me, his facial expression being a mixture of awkwardness, amusement and, well, the face we men make when weâre horny.Â
I sat back normally, and patted my friendâs shoulder.
âI think we'll survive this, bro.â
POV: Tim
That last fart, I could tell, was dangerous. Dave trusting his farts in his darkest moment was incredibly heroic.
âIâm fighting the urge to tell you âI told you soââ I said. I must love being annoying.
He just looked back at me, with a smirk. âAnd Iâm fighting the urge to pull your head between my legs and let you enjoy the show front row.â he then leaned closer, and whispered. âWhich, by the way, the only reason Iâm not doing it is because weâre in public.âÂ
Fucking. Teasing. Bastard. My reaction was pre-cum coming out of the tip of my dick almost instantly: Iâm the one who almost made a mess this time.
âThis is the captain speaking. The restrooms are now back in service. We invite you to use them, especially considering that we have received complaints about strange odors. We wish you a pleasant flight.â
âI canât see my wife smelling like shit!â Carl shouted from the back of the plane, a few other passengers nodding.Â
We did our best to not laugh like idiots at that.
âI guess thatâs my stop babe.â Dave said, him looking the most relieved Iâve ever seen.
Dave stood up and, on his way to the restroom, squeezed past me without paying any attention to my presence, through the narrow space between my legs and the seat in front.
He stopped right in front of me, his butt perfectly aligned to my head.
I know where this is going.
He gave a quick look around, making sure he could do one last thing before finally ending this once and for all.Â
He quickly leaned his shorts-clad ass back and brushed it all over my face. It was wet, but just for the sweat thank goodness, but not any less smelly. Now that was a risky move to do in public.
Dave then walked towards the restroom, but before going in, he turned around, smiled at me and gave me the middle finger. He mouthed âWe did it.â, triumphantly, before finally going into the coveted bathroom, possibly destroying it with whatever his stomach couldnât hold anymore.
I ignored the stench still coming from Daveâs empty seat, put on some earphones, and managed to listen to some music. The airplane shook a bit again, and Iâm sure this time it was caused by my friend winning the final battle in the bathroom.
End of Episode 34













