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Jul 15

DaveFarts - Episode 39 “Suck-in Streak” [Episode List] A buggy fighting game both Tim and Dave are really good at gets finally fixed, which promptly leads the duo to exhume old rivalries and challenge each other. It’s been long since they last played so fiercely, but while Dave is still quite skilled, Tim got a bit rusty, leading to an almost embarrassing losing streak. To add salt to the injury, Tim’s bro knows how to mess with him even further…

Want to feel like Tim? Click on the links in the story to hear the power of Dave's farts! The amazing farts in this story were provided by the talented AceFlatulist.

POV: Tim

This is the last time I’m working on Saturdays: the clients do not seem appreciate it at all. It’s like they have no idea how much time my shit takes and I swear som- ok, never mind, I’m home now, home sweet home, the one I can pay for (my share at least) thanks to those clients, even the ones I despise. I need a beer.

The moment I stepped in I was greeted by Dave with a silent nod; by the look of it, he too just finished today’s chores (like buying groceries and shit) and came back mere minutes ago, as he was still wearing a bunch of casual clothes (a hoodie and a pair of loose, lowkey shabby-ish jeans) and distractingly holding the car-keys while looking for -you guessed it- a beer in our own beloved fridge. I didn’t even need to acknowledge my presence even further as my bro simply handed me a can of our favorite nectar.

“Thanks, man.”

He just replied with with wink, as he took a sip of his own beer, and walked towards our couch in the so-called living room. As my eyes followed him, I only then noticed that the console was ON, and our TV was displaying a familiar “face”, so to speak. The big, stylish logo of a fighting game both me and Dave really enjoy, Nekken.

During College years and after that (like, nowdays), a concerning amount of people in our friend group, myself included obviously, would still get heated up about it, though probably not for the reason you may be thinking.

Yes, obviously some of us are more skilled than others, but the more “violent” discussions happened in regards of the game’s balancing, which was admittedly absolutely terrible, and some things were literally broken, like hitboxes not working properly, i-frames which are not supposed to exist, and unnecessarily distracting jiggle physics (no wait, that one’s a feature I believe, for some reason). I’m not the most skilled player, but I do have a decent Win/Loss ratio against most of our buds, and part of the fun with this broken mess was taking advantage of those bugs and glitches, which became an unofficial mode of its own among players. Naturally, the competitive play (online, or e-sports) was over before it could even properly start, and after 7 years (which is like forever in this context) since its last update (which only fixed the alignment of some UI buttons, as if the developers were purposely messing with us), no sequel announcement, and relative radio silence from the tricksters who made it, the game has obviously been deader than dead, save for us aficionados who would occasionally still boot it up from time to time to kick each other’s ass.

As messy as the game is, it is kind of nostalgic, though I’m pretty sure the last time we played was when we went to a dinner at Adam’s place some months ago; a small competition erupted after Dana, of all people, brought the game up, and so we, the manly men of the manly gaming community, obviously had to be ridiculous about it and turn the oddly formal evening into a jungle of beer, competitive play, and broken combos (which Dana actually enjoyed wholeheartedly by the way, and even easily managed to win a couple of matches against the host himself).

I took another sip of beer and walked towards the back of the couch, eyes on the TV, and only when I got closer I noticed that something was different. The title looked… better? Did I clean my glasses too well or something? My glance turned to Dave, then back at the TV, then back at him again: my bro couldn’t help but smirk.

“No way.” I mouthed.

I took a closer look at the title screen, and the release date written at the bottom of the screen said 2026. What the fuck is going on. Is this a joke?

“Bro.” I simply said. “Did they just shadow-drop…”

“They totally did.” Dave confirmed. “I already hate this.” he added, smiling widely.

“How did I not know this.”

“No one did.” Dave explained. “They made an announcement this morning, uploaded the remake on the stores, and then disappeared again.” he took another sip of beer and then said the most important part. “And it’s free for whoever bought the original game.”

I was flabbergasted. “There’s no way they did this, they want us dead.”

I scrambled to read the patch notes, though this is way more than that: this is an entirely new version of the game.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Dave promptly said, now handing me a gamepad.

Obviously, we had many loose ends to tie up, when it came to this mess of a game.

“Still not over the backwards kick of 2021 huh?” I teased him.

“An illegal move even for your standards” he replied, sitting down on the couch. “Even for this broken game.”

I sat on my side of the couch, putting the beer on the small table in front of him, and admired the game’s shiny new look for a few seconds.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” I said.

Dave laughed. “Winning once against me truly did wonders to your self-esteem.”

I swear I wanted to shrug that obviously immature tease off, but I just couldn’t.

“Excuse me?” yeah I got baited.

“It’s not like you’re big on win streaks against yours truly.” he explained, with a smirk.

“Fuck off I kicked your ass so many times you almost begged me for more.”

“You won single rounds, not matches.” he explained. “In the end, despite your illegal moves, the honourable player still won in the end.”

Dave rage-baiting is very basic, he’s aware of it, he’s just playing, but the way he says it… goddammit it’s very easy with me, isn’t it? And that makes no sense even: he too takes advantage of the game’s broken gimmicks.

I mean don’t get me wrong, my friend is a very skilled player, probably the best in our friend group, but even Gods can bleed, he just needs to accept it.

“Fine, I’ll bite.” I stated. “Pick any character, any stage, and maybe I’ll show you mercy.”

Dave just remained silent; he adjusted his position, took his shoes off and put both his legs on the small table in front of us.

“Mercy, you say?”

A deafening fart erupted, a quick, loud, startling thunder, 4 seconds long (short for his standards), almost tearing a hole through his jeans. 🔈

The tent I immediately pitched between my legs almost pierced through my own khaki pants instead. Fuckin’ teaser… this is gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?

———

The game’s announcer, a familiar deep voice yelling stuff like “Round 1”, welcomed us back into our petty tournament.

In spite of my bro’s best efforts to… distract me, I still managed to focus on the game.

With unimpressive results, sadly.

Indeed, while I am winning single rounds, I still have to win a single match.

I’m a bit rusty and, believe it or not, the fact that the game runs more smoothly now is actually messing with my timing. Dave said the same thing and admitted he was also being thrown off by Nekken working as intended for the first time ever; unfortunately, he’s much more skilled than I am, and got used to the new rhythm of the characters and their combo much faster than me.

It was 3-0: Dave was winning with relative ease at this point. The way his fingers danced across the gamepad was like the movements of a skilled guitarist. I have to wonder if he’s enjoying humiliating me like this but, knowing him, he probably is. He baited me good, I fell for it, and I'm getting exactly what I deserve.

"You good, bro?" Dave said, knowing full well he was using his annoying tone.

For a second, I feared it was one of those one-liners that precedes... well, you know what.

The last thing I need right now is another distraction.

I’m not going down without a fight.

I just won a round: I can take home at least one victory.

A few trips, a few dodges. Dave’s healthbar is almost empty; this might be it. Block, punch, and...

And I’m a kinky mess, because the loud blast that echoed in the room, easily surpassing the sounds of the game, effortlessly ripped by the bro sitting on the other side of the ouch, completely throw me off, putting an end to an already precarious display of skills.

Dave snorted at the fact that his distraction worked, and his “short” 6 seconds rip was followed by him finishing me off (in the game), winning another match. He then just turned to me, with a silly, annoying smile.

I took a deep breath to calm down, accidentally sniffing up the smell lingering in the room.

“All that bitching about illegal moves and then that’s the shit you pull off to win?” I said. “Very honourable.”

My bro laughed. “That’s not an in-game move, it doesn’t count.”

I adjusted my glasses, pinching my nose, trying to resist the urge to strangle my friend.

“Let’s just wrap this up. You won.” I admitted.

“Aw come on.” Dave said. “I’m seeing Dana later, I got nothing to do until then.”

“You got your point, you won fairly… sort of.” I insisted. “I’ll go get another beer no-“

"You're such a pain in the ass!” he mocked me. "Pick up that fucking gamepad and let me dominate you a little more."

"Bro!” I said, trying not to laugh. "I admit it, you're stronger. Clearly you bested me!”

“You better start putting your head into the game, or else…”

"Or else what?" I dared to ask.

Dave took a deep breath of his own this time, and laughed a bit.

"Okay, if you... well, if we were both normal people, I’d probably just say that if you don't pick up that gamepad, I’m gonna fart in your face so hard it’s gonna melt your skin off. But since our situation is… very different..."

"Shut up.” I hissed.

“I mean, you know me, I believe much more in... positive reinforcement.” my bro did his best to not burst into laugher there. “Perhaps the only thing you need to win is just a bit of… motivation…”

“I just texted Dana ‘Sorry for your loss’, ‘cause I think I’m going to kill you, Dave.”

Obviously, Dave was just messing with me, teasing, playing around my kink, the best friend and worst bully you could ask for. Not the first time he tries to “bribe” me with his incredible farting skills… and not the last time I’m going to fall for it.

No, I can’t let him have this.

I know that at this point he’s super chill (always has been), open-minded and… possibly morbidly amused by my gross kink, and given how good he’s at farting and how awkward I can get because of it, I can’t really blame him. Hell, I’m probably the luckiest kinky person in the world.

Still, I gotta strangle him later.

“Okay…” I scoffed. I sat back down. “I too have nothing better to do… but I’m not doing this because of… you know what.”

Dave leaned a bit, obviously to promptly fart in response to what I just said, but then stopped. “Nah… saving it for later.”

Teasing bastard.

And we’re back into the game, back at trying to kick each other’s ass.

I was doing better, and I hate the idea of Dave thinking that I was doing so because of my kinky thirst.

Then I remembered… he just doesn’t care. He’s the one pulling this fart shit even when it’s uncalled for, so I guess I should just relax. Yes, relax and get my ass kicked again, fuck off. He won again.

“Looks like I’m a lost cause, bro.” I remarked, sarcastically, as Nekken reminded us who’s in the lead.

“Yeah I gotta say, you were much better at the buggy version of this shit.” he played along.

“I don’t need any reinforcement, I just need to practice.” I explained.

“Nah, positive reinforcement it is…” Dave insisted, raising his right leg. “With a just a bit of FOMO thrown into it…” he said, turning to me with a smirk, and ripping a loud, meat-y rip, around 4 seconds long.

Fuck. So he’s going there.

This is what I missed out by losing.

Really? We’ve come to this.

The newest frontier of my friend’s kinky mind games just to mess with me.

My boner was greatly enjoying this though. Yeah, my boner, not me, obviously, duh.

“Let’s try again.”

I let Dave start another match, we picked anther stage.

Impressive combos from both sides, special moves, punches, blocks, kicks, dodges.

Yet, as usual, I won a single round, but my friend still won the match overall.

I just can’t seem to be consistent, it’s like I’m losing focus, regardless of any… distraction.

Well, I lost again, time to hear what Dave’s ass has to say.

My friend however didn’t fart: he did lean again, raising his right leg, but the sounds that came out from his denim, sagging ass were different. He wasn’t farting this time, he was sucking air in. Fuck.

He just casually sat back normally again, as if he didn’t just breathe air in from his anus, and started another match. Why didn’t he fart? Why was he keeping it in?

I tried, really tried, to focus on the game, but my boner was taking the wheel. The gamepad in my hand was nothing compared to the good-old joystick between my legs.

Another match, another loss.

Yeah I was hard, hard to watch.

I could tell Dave was having fun though, and so was I don’t get me wrong, and this kinky layer of embarrassment from me was greatly amusing to him, the teasing bastard.

Here he goes again, leg raised, more air loudly going in through his sagging jeans, effortlessly, more power to the the already huge fart he was brewing. Is he going to do a suck-in every time he wins? What’s his endgame? He isn’t even addressing that he’s doing that, what the fuck is going on.

Now I was getting mad, for some reason.

Raging boner on a raging gamer, fittingly.

And rage obviously didn’t help at all, because this was the first time I didn’t even win a single round.

Dave didn’t even remark on his easy win, save for his usual “turns to me with an annoying smirk” face.

He did, however, suck more air in, loudly.

He’s got mad farting skills, whether it’s natural or on command, but the idea of him being able to even keep all of that in, brewing a huge one on command while kicking my ass in a fighting game… I don’t know, there’s something to it that it’s doing something to my chest. Stereotypical manliness, maybe? Or something along those lines. Either way, getting distracted was the norm now, there’s no way I could win a single match.

Two more times I lost, and two more suck-ins I heard. My bro would still occasionally make comments on the game’s new graphics, while rightfully make fun of my questionable skills at blocking, but the constant, alongside me getting crushed, was him sucking air in every time I lost.

I know I should probably shut up, I should probably just accept the fact that he’s chill. If he’s doing something this weird it’s because he just doesn’t care… but you know me, I have to be annoying. I don’t want him to think that I’m doing this on purpose you know, doing this just to hear him, well, fart.

“Dave I swear…” I stuttered. “I’m not losing on purpose.”

A big ol’ PAUSE appeared on the screen, and Dave turned to me.

He looked… a bit more serious, his eyes studying my awkwardness.

“I know you’re not.” he then said. “You just really really really suck.” he whispered.

I was… oddly relieved.

“And speaking of sucking!” Dave then yelled, now acknowledging a big loud suck-in. “Oof, that’s gonna leave a mark later.” he said, to me, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

I was sweating: the gamepad was barely slipping in my grip anymore, while Dave kept playing like his hands were one with the buttons. I'm distracted, I'm nervous... but it's just a damn game, in the end.

Positive reinforcement or whatever the hell that was, it's all teasing; it's Dave mocking me, messing with me, for better or worse. Weird mind games my best friend loves to play just to get a laugh at my clumsiness, but enough is enough.

It’s not that deep.

I just, simply, purely, need to focus.

Stench still lingering aside, I took a deep breath, eyes on my character, eyes on the opponent, eyes on the hitboxes that finally make sense for once. 3, 2, 1.

Round 1. Dodge, block. Tactical trip, uppercut.

I go for a combo, Dave dodges it, counters.

I take the hit, I survive.

Flying kick, another trip, final uppercut.

First victory.

Dave chuckles, calling me a "dickhead."

I appreciate the good-natured insult.

Round 2. Backjump, and then I throw a blade-hat.

Dave takes damage, but pulls off an unexpected counter to my kick, taking out a lot of my HP. I don't let myself get played, I don't push it.

Tactical retreat, I take the opportunity to let him blow off steam, to study him.

I focus on blocking, but I know I’m going to lose this one. Not a problem.

I let him win this Round.

Round 3, final round. The deciding round.

I start like before, throw my hat, predict the counter.

Trip, new combo, special move.

Dave doesn't even have time to use his own combo before I grab him, throwing him off the stage and triggering a violent, hilarious cutscene.

No backwards kicks this time, Dave.

You got served.

I won.

Finally, I won.

I took a deep breath, managed to punch Dave on the shoulder, and threw the gamepad on the small table in front of us.

“Well well well…” Dave said, still managing to sound annoying even when defeated. “First time you beat me without cheating, I’m impressed!”.

I ignored the obvious jab at my 2021 move. “First time you didn’t pull any weird-ass illegal move in a way or another.”

Dave snorted. “You might want to take that back.”

As usual, he’s the one who has to have the last word... even if the concept of a "word" is debatable here. More than anything, I'd call it a "roar”… a rear, you might say.

With a deft movement, my friend adjusted his position, leaning on his side, leg stretching up, now fully showing off his sagging jeans ass in my direction, a familiar view that could be described as some sort of “denim wall”. Behind that wall, an ass that was brewing a huge fart, result of a series of immense suck-ins prompted by me lacking gaming skills.

My bro managed to get his ass a bit closer to me and didn’t even wait for me to say anything: he simply let his ass speak as if I wasn’t even sitting there.

“Round… 1!” Dave muttered, imitating the deep voice of the game’s narrator. And a huge fart erupted out of his ass. Loud, long, juicy. 🔈

Thunderous as usual, powered by his suck-ins from before and yeah, probably his own built-in skills that we all know. As the fart kept being ripped, he stretched his leg even more to ease the blast out, a gimmick that only made the view even hotter for me. I was exhausted, but still fighting the urge to plant my face into that roaring ass.

After 14 seconds, the blast was over, but Dave didn’t change pose.

“How’s that for positive reinforcement?” he joked, we both laughed like idiots.

I almost didn’t notice his arm reaching for my head, pulling me down, closer to his denim ass, as if it was, you know, the most normal thing to do in that situation. Sure, why not: you dominated me into the game, might as well do it on this couch as well, not gonna complain.

“Round… 2!”

I should’ve seen this coming.

The moment my nose touched the rough, smelly, warm surface of my friend’s sagging jeans, very close to the spot where a pair of red underwear were visible, my entire face was blasted my another loud fart, strong enough to make my entire face shake. 🔈

Being on-command, the stench wasn’t as terrible as you may imagine, but there’s still ass and sweat involved, so trust me it wasn’t pretty. The sound was hot, loud, chainsaw-like, and rocked my eardrums like Dave always knew how to do. Around 15 seconds, brutal and long like the previous one.

Before I could even say anything, insult him, or even just thank him like the awkward mess I am, Dave adjusted his position a bit more, this time wrapping both his legs around my head, trapping me into a denim gas chamber.

“Round… 3!”

Oh come the fuck on.

Another blast, loud, dangerously meat-y, airy. Absolutely unbearable now. 🔈

This felt more natural than on-command, probably a mix of both, if that’s even possible (and for Dave, it usually was). I could heard Dave snort a bit as he kept pushing it out, holding my head in its place, making sure none of his reinforcement got wasted. 12 seconds, 12 seconds of reinforcement down my throat basically, and he was done.

Just as his legs pulled me in, those same legs then pushed me on my side of the couch, far from his ass, but not immune to the smelly AOE of the farts I just got all over my face.

I didn’t say anything, obviously, and just let Dave laugh at me as usual. Or with me.

“Yeah you might be right…” he said, noticing the smell. “Totally counts as an illegal move.”

The teasing asshole laughed at my awkwardness, then reached for his phone and gamepad.

“Welp, I got dinner with Dana. Gonna take a shower.” he explained. “I need the bathroom… unless you need it first.” he mocked, purposely throwing his gamepad on the tent I was visibly pitching between my legs.

He snorted and left me there on the couch, alone dealing with my painful boner.

“Fuck you… illegal… move…” I muttered.

End of Episode 39

ace-flatulist

and the final product! 😍

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