You know those virtual reality connectors that you see in media sometimes? The ones that manage to tap into your brain enough to make you see/feel the virtual environment as a full-body experience? On the one hand, I genuinely don’t feel that I can trust technology like that, which affects even how I consume the stories that use it.
… on the other hand, I love imagining people immediately using tech like this for fart kink purposes.
In this scenario, there’d be kink-based interaction spaces where specific forms and functions can be accessed. You can program yourself to be as large/small as you want and as gassy as you want. You can meet up with lots of other gassy, kinky people and be surrounded by hot, farting asses. You can be human or furry, inflated beyond belief or just super bloated.
And, of course, there’d be social interaction in the midst of all this. What sort of communities would form around this? What kinds of social etiquette?
I’ve told a few people I know irl about my fart fetish but I’m always too embarrassed to call it that so I just refer to myself as a “Friend of James Joyce” instead
There are one or two kinks that exist that aren’t mine, but often appear next to my own, so I’ve grown accustomed to their presence. While I’m not into them, I don’t begrudge them being nearby, since I can filter out (or just look away) from whatever I don’t want to see. I’ll call these my “kinks in law."
From time to time, I’ll get a story idea for one of my kinks in law, and I’ll even wonder about posting it. But I never do, because I don’t want to give a false impression to people who ARE into it. Like, if it’s a good enough idea, then people may start saying, “Woah, what else you got? You wanna go even more intense or kinkier?” And the answer would be, “No, my dick’s not in this one. I was just curious about story potential!"
With fart stuff, I’m into it 100%, both on a potential story level and on a fetish level. But I’m removed enough from the kinks-in-law that I just worry about, like, half-assing the ideas in either direction?
The term “butt rock” keeps getting brought up in this let’s play series I’m rewatching.
Can’t help but think of a new fart-fueled genre of music blowing up called “butt/fart rock,” where remixed farts are placed alongside vocals and percussion. The real stars of the movement are artists that use their actual gas, and whose farts are loud and large enough that their recordings don’t need too much remixing.
You know that trope of someone being so attracted to another person that they agree to do anything to get on the other person's good side, or make themself more appealing to them?
Imagine Person A is dating Person B, and A is SO convinced that B is out of their league that they’re determined to be onboard with anything B suggests, to not dislike ANYTHING that they like. They’ve been pretty lucky so far, as A and B honestly have similar tastes, with only a few things that A has had to lie about liking.
Then comes the moment A thought they’d only been dreaming of: B suggests that the two of them have sex for the first time after their next date. That’s when B shyly admits that they have a fart fetish that they’ve always wanted to explore, but none of the other people they’ve dated had been up to it. All it takes is even suggesting that B fart on them before their previous dates got disgusted.
A is only half-conscious of what they’re agreeing to while they babble that yeah, sure, they’d love to help B with their fart fetish. In fact, A loves farts, always admired them! A little butt-on-body contact would be a favor to A, really. Gas it up!
B is definitely surprised by this, but happy to not look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s only later that night that A starts to wonder if they’re biting off more than they can chew, but they dismiss it. Whatever happens, A can handle a few farts.
Then comes the date itself, and even before dinner, B has clearly pre-gamed. They’re already visibly bloated (and excited) before dinner, which is a host of trigger foods. A swears that they can hear B’s stomach gurgling constantly throughout the evening. Finally, they’re at B’s place, and the night really begins. A proceeds to get destroyed with farts, as they realize that B’s fetish partly comes from an immense talent of outfarting most human beings alive.
A also comes harder than they have in a long time.
After everything’s done, B admits that they suspected A was blindly agreeing to a lot of their favorite things, the fetish included, and hopes A doesn’t feel used at B practically farting them into oblivion anyway.
A responds by saying they’ll be honest about which things they actually like from now on. And this fetish has become one of them.
No Fart November 2025: “It’s a Deal”, An Original Month-Long Narrative
For a full introduction about this story, check out the first post!
Read below for Day 17, in which Argo is super horny and Didi has to handle pleasing his lover as he turns into a human balloon.
FIRST | <- PREV | NEXT ->
“C’mon, baby, give it to me.”
Didi grunted as Argo clambered on top of his body, scaling it like one of those inflatable jungle gyms for kids’ street fairs.
“Argo! I was in the middle of – argh, where are you putting that hand?”
OK, the first part of that statement was technically a lie. Didi hadn’t exactly been doing anything before Argo burst into the room with lust in his eyes – mostly, he just been lying in bed, silently resenting all of his life choices as he waited for sleep to come – but getting jumped like this, and so suddenly, had a tendency to make people a little defensive.
That hand finally finished squeezing a portion of flesh that, in Didi’s new form, technically counted as a love handle. The relief was short-lived, as Argo proceeded to take a seat on top of Didi’s huge stomach. As the imp sank deeper into the fleshy airbag, Didi didn’t know what felt more troubling: the resistance of the air that stayed in his stomach, begging for release, or the way excess air started traveling to other parts of his body. Suddenly, he thought of those disturbing stress toys whose extremities bulged out when you squeezed them.
“I’ve been so worn down,” Argo moaned. He shifted his hips, grinding deeper into Didi’s gut. “I just want a little loving from my big, big boy.”
Didi moaned as well, but not for quite the same reasons. He missed the good old days, when “Argo bouncing on top of him” meant that the imp was sliding onto almost six inches of slim, firm cock. Now, the “bouncing” was a little too literal for Didi’s liking.
“Oh, god,” said Didi. “Oh, f-fuck, please. Please.”
“Sounds like you wanna have some fun, too,” Argo smirked.
“No, I’m not – fuck, get off.”
Argo held back a remark about really wanting to get off and sat by Didi’s side. After Didi got himself into a sitting position – and felt less like a squeezed balloon – he glared at Argo with a look that was as embarrassed as it was pissed off.
“Argo, even if I was in the mood, I just…” Didi dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not … mobile enough, right now. For what you really want.”
Argo put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“No, it’s true, I…” Didi lifted his stomach a little and let it bounce down. “It’s this. I’m getting so large now, I barely have time to adjust.”
Argo’s eyes followed the bouncing gut until Didi placed a hand on it. “Don’t like being fat?”
Didi scoffed. “Honestly, it would be easier if I was just getting fat. At least that would be more gradual. Sometimes, I think I’ve gotten a handle on how to move or touch myself or fuck you, but then I wake up the next day even bigger, and…” Didi sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disappoint you.”
Didi flinched as Argo covered his body again, but this time, it was in a hug. After a second, he let himself melt into it.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” said Argo. “At all.”
Argo pressed a kiss to Didi’s temple. For one moment, Didi almost felt normal again.
“I mean,” Argo continued, “it’s not even your fault. I’m the one who’s making this happen.”
“You know what? You are.” Didi shrugged off Argo’s arm, not quite hiding a smirk. “It is your fault, you demon bastard.”
Argo stuck his tongue out just as playfully. “Besides, I’m not disappointed.”
“Really? What about all that talk about needing a little loving?”
Didi was surprised to see Argo looking a little sheepish this time.
“There’s something real easy you could do for me.”
Argo leaned over and whispered in Didi’s ear. When he was done, Didi raised an eyebrow.
“Just that?” he asked.
“Trust me,” said Argo. “I’ll enjoy myself.”
A few minutes later, Argo was sprawled out on the bed with Didi on his hands and knees above him. Didi was so huge now that he fully eclipsed the light from the overhead lamp, leaving Argo in shadow.
“Are you ready?” said Didi.
Argo nodded. “Do it.”
Didi gave the best approximation of a shrug that he could in that position before dropping down. His inflated bulk squashed and stretched over the imp below, covering all of his head and torso. Despite being filled with air and not fat, Didi could sense the pressure that he was putting on Argo, crushing him into the bed. He could feel Argo writhing, squirming under the weight smothering him. He could feel Argo’s hips buck instinctively.
He could hear Argo moaning.
Didi lifted himself again. Argo gazed up with wide eyes, panting harder than he should’ve been, even with his air supply having been partially cut off.
“What was that about?” Didi muttered with a smile.
Argo reached up to yank Didi back down. “Again.”
Didi might not have considered a lot of what happened that night to have actually been sex, but he still fell asleep happy. After all, anything that left his boyfriend drenched in his own fluids and moaning his name had to be good.
No Fart November 2025: “It’s a Deal”, An Original Month-Long Narrative
For a full introduction about this story, check out the first post!
Read below for Day 16, in which Didi once again tries to outwit the magical bloat-fest and fails.
FIRST | <- PREV | NEXT ->
“So… how are those probiotics treating you?”
Didi glared at Argo as another series of bubbles sloshed through him. Up until now, Didi had stopped picturing his digestive system in its original form. He was so huge that it was legitimately distressing to imagine his stomach, intestines, and other vital organs ballooned far beyond their natural physical limits. Besides, he couldn’t wrap his genius brain around how digestion even worked logically in a situation like this. He had started thinking that the moment anything he ate entered his body, it didn’t hit a small lake of acid or bile; it was just suspended within gas as it was transmogrified.
Tonight was setting his mind right again. He had taken probiotics earlier in the day, hoping that they would provide some breakthrough in slowing down his gas output. It was now a few hours after dinner, and not only was his digestion even more prominent, but it was more… tangible. The gurgling that came from his insides absolutely had a liquid component, no matter what the fate of that night’s dinner proved to be.
“I don’t understand,” he sighed. “They were guaranteed to reduce bloating.” Another gurgle came, visibly vibrating the surface of his ballooning belly. “They were certainly expensive enough. Please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this.”
Argo didn’t mean to hurt Didi’s feelings, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking like a smug little bastard.
“Nope, not me.” Argo shrugged. “Not directly. If I had to guess, it’s probably because your digestive system is totally different from how it should be.”
Great. The one day Didi felt close to having traditional stomach troubles, he had to be reminded that he’s still an absolute freak of nature.
“How so?” he muttered.
Argo shuffled over on the sofa bed, reaching for Didi’s shirt. Instinctively, Didi flinched, but he didn’t fight back as Argo slowly exposed his stomach and started rubbing it.
“Probiotics aren’t really food,” Argo explained. “They introduce bacteria to your gut stuff that helps you digest things better. It has a different intent than food does. Not only is your gut stuff not a normal ecosystem right now, but it’s being run by magic that won’t take kindly to being outsmarted.”
Argo’s touch was smooth, careful, and carried the perfect amount of pressure. Outside of this month, Didi wouldn’t have been able to stop the gas from flowing out of him. Due to current circumstances, everything stayed right where it was, and Didi squirmed as its presence felt clearer.
“So, it’s the spell’s fault,” he grunted, “but not your fault?”
“Only technically.”
Suddenly, Argo’s hand whipped back and gave Didi’s stomach a hard smack. The magical stretchiness kept Didi’s stomach from being taut, so there wasn’t a drum-like thump as there would’ve been for a normal bloat. But the impact still reverberated through Didi’s whole body. He felt it travel through his stomach and even through his limbs. The gurgling surged as Didi felt his waistband press even further into himself, and he couldn’t hold back a whimper.
“Argo, get-”
Argo was already holding it. Didi snatched the coupon book from his boyfriend, opened it, and jabbed his finger on the top sheet.
As the coupon finally finished crumpling in on itself, Didi only had enough time to say, “Oh, shit,” before the roiling gas surged upwards and burst from the depths of his gullet.
Argo resumed his earlier massage, and this time, both of them could feel the satisfaction of a job well done.
UGH, hate when I happen to be wearing my noise-cancelling headphones when I manage to fart loud and long. Loud enough to kinda hear it through the headphones, but now I can’t fully APPRECIATE IT.
Imagine hearing someone fart really loudly in the next room over, and that fart ends up being so huge that you're already being accosted by accosted by the stench before the farter even enters the room you're in. But you can still tell exactly who's going to be walking in anyway because there's only one person you know who rips ass like that.
I just read a post that said something like “It’s a good thing that sounds don’t stick to clothing like smells."
I couldn’t help but think of someone entering a room and blushing because, even though they had gone into the other room to let out a huge fart in private, everyone who gets within five feet of the seat of their pants can both smell traces of it and hear the faint echoes of the bassiest ass ripping.
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