My Liked Fart Stories @fartstories - Tumblr Blog

(18+ CONTENT) A series of kinky fart stories about two best buds in their late 20s/early 30s: Tim, a gay guy with a fart fetish, and Dave, his gassy, straight best bud (and, eventually, roommate).

Due to Tumblr pages not working properly, I'm going to use (as long as the website lets me) this post as the episode list, a hopefully useful way to "quick access" the entire series.

Including the very first episode, there are currently 31 available stories and the list below is going to be updated whenever new ones are being written/coming soon.

Thanks everyone and have (kinky) fun!

0. Dave, My Best Friend

1. FartsApp

2. Emergency Shower

3. Fart Race

4. Post Gym Gas

5. Drunken Fart Contest

6. Fart Bet, Easy Bucks

7. The Noisy Roommate

8. Lather, Rinse, Inhale!

9. Trapped In The Closet

10. The Elevator

buttsmasher

Game Over [Repost]

Warnings: Face Farting, Fart Torture, Asphyxiation by Farting

buttsmasher

Your Boyfriend Trevor (Rewritten)

Author’s Note: This used to be a short 300 word caption underneath a photo on my old blog. But I had a rush of inspiration and rewrote and extended this story. I really hope you enjoy! If you did, consider giving it a like and maybe even a reblog!

Warnings/Tags: Gay Story, Gay Face Farting, Face Farting, Boyfriends, Willing Victim, Little bit of Fluffiness, Rimming, Mouth Farting, Farting on tongue, Blowjob, Passing out from Farts, Aftercare

hookedonhuge

A Scent of Belonging (part 1)

This is an original work by me (hookedonhuge)! Don’t be afraid to chuck me a message if you liked it or even put in some suggestions for other pieces to write. Hope you like it!

Content: male domination, face-sitting, farting

It had been a really tough day at work for Cam, and to top it off he once again had to make the two hour commute back to his apartment where no one was waiting for him. About halfway through his drive he realised he really had to go to the toilet, so he stopped at the first public toilet he came across. The public toilets didn’t look super appealing but he needed to pee too badly to care.

Once Cam walked in, the strong, musky public toilet smell hit him immediately. There was one guy there who had just gotten out of the toilet and had started washing his hands. The man had a muscular build but what was striking was his huge lower body. Big quads and glutes stretched the stranger’s lycra shorts so that it hugged his legs tightly. Despite the man being quite toned all over, the difference in size of the upper and lower body was so jarring that Cam couldn’t help but have a glance at the stranger’s ass to confirm that it was all real.

Keep reading

gassyloves

Best Bros

Collin and Jace are roommates in their first year at BLANK University. Collin is openly gay and studies theatre while Jace is your stereotypical straight dude. He’s 6′4″ with curly brown hair and brown eyes- very, very dreamy. He loves to workout and play sports with his friends, can get any girl (or guy for that matter) he wants, and just overall exudes charisma and confidence. The semester is only about two weeks in, but the two guys have bonded quite well. All it took was a fart.

Collin was cooking something to eat in their shared kitchenette when Jace came home.

“Smells good. What are you cooking?”

“Just some rice and beans. Want some?”

“If you have some left after you’ve had all you want, sure!”

“I’m making plenty, so please help yourself.”

“Awesome, man, thanks!”

Jace sets his bag down and plops face down on the living room couch.

“You okay?” Collin says with a laugh.

“Yeah it’s just been a long morning.”

“Well, it’s Friday! You can chill out all you want.”

“That’s true. Hmm.”

“What?”

“I just remembered I was gonna play basketball with the boys tonight, but I honestly don’t really want to.”

“Girl’s night!”

Jace laughs. “Hell yeah, man!”

“The rice and beans are done for whenever you want it!”

“Bet.”

They both grab a bowl and fill it with food and sit down. The two talk, eat, and watch tv when Collin says,

“Ah shit!”

“What?”

“I spilt on my pants. Ugh and all my laundry is in the wash.

It’s not that big of a deal. We’re inside and it’s just us.”

“I guess. I just feel gross haha”

“Want a pair of shorts or something?”

“Sure, actually. Thank you!”

Jace smiles and goes into his room and comes back with a pair of black basketball shorts. He hands them to Collin in a ceremonial manner, with a bow.

Collin laughs and takes the shorts.

“Thanks bae.”

Jace smooches at Collin. “No problem buddy.”

Collin doesn’t usually wear athletic clothing like that, but it’s a chance for him to feel like one of his “bros”, so he takes his dirty pants off and slides the shorts on. Once they’re done eating, they put their bowls in the sink and go to the couch to watch more tv. Jace leans over to Collin and asks,

“Wait wait dude… do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

PPPPBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT

A monstrous 8 second fart fires out of Jace’s basketball short cladded ass.

“Excuse me” he said with a grin.

“That was huge oh my God”

“Eh, it was alright.”

“I am afraid of you.”

“I’m harmless.” He gives a wink. “My brother on the other hand, his farts are fucking insane. He once sat on me and farted until I passed out.”

Collin laughs. “I can’t imagine you never fought back.”

“He’s a few years older than me so I never had the chance until I was like 16. But once I got strong enough to, you bet I pinned him down and gave him a taste of what he had been giving me my whole life. Also, sorry I didn’t warn you.”

“Warn me for what?”

BBBBBBBRRR

“That.”

Suddenly, Collin feels something in his stomach. He has never been much of a farter, but he felt one coming and wanted to bond with his new friend.

“That’s okay. Because I didn’t warn you about this.” BRRBRRRRTBBT.

“DUDE! I never thought I’d hear you fart.”

“I’m usually embarrassed by it so I only do it while I’m alone.”

“That was awesome though!”

“You’re too much.”

They go back to watching.

Collin feels something again. He turns to Jace and with a grin hikes his leg up.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. BRRRRPP

“Two in a row?”

BRP. “Three.”

Jace sees what’s happening. The friendly competition is about to begin.

Jace, without losing focus, leans with his ass towards Collin.

“Hey no aimin-”

PPPPPPRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRR

“Beat that. Wait wait wait-” BBBBBBBRBRBRBRBR BRBRBRBRBR RBBRBRBR BR

“And those.”

Collin tries to push. “Fuck, I don’t have any more.”

“Cool dude, I do.” GRGBBBBFFFBBBBBRRBRTRBTRBTRBTRpppppbbttBRAP

He then lets out an exaggerated sigh.

A few moments go by without any farts, and Collin thinks it’s his time to shine. Like Jace did before, he leans with his ass toward Jace. Without realizing though, Jace was doing the same. The two dudes let out an explosive fart at the exact same time.

BBBBBBRBRBRRBBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBRBR

BRBRBRBRBBBPPPPPPPPPPBBBBBBBRRRRRPPPPPPPPFFFFFGGBRBR

Collin’s fart lasted longer, but the guys were too amazed at the synchronicity of their gas to give it much attention.

“Dude!” Jace said as he and Collin high five.

“If only mine wasn’t longer and more powerful than yours, our souls would be like intertwined but with farts.”

“Okay showoff.” Jace says with a laugh and a punch to Collin’s arm.

“Why’d you wait so long to fart in front of me?”

“You waited to fart in front of me too, dude.”

“Well yeah because I’m self conscious. You fart loud and proud.”

“I didn’t want to gross you out before we became friends. “

They laugh.

But now that we are…

Jace turns his head to Collin and gives him a mischievous grin. He stands up in a squat and seemingly without any effort at all releases one of the biggest farts Collin has ever heard.

PPPPPPPPRRRRBRBRBRBRBBBBBBBBBAAAAABABABABPPPPERRRRRRGRBGRBGRBRGBRGBRGRBGRBGRBGRBGRBGRBRGBRGBRGBRGRBGRBRGBRG

“Holy fuck, dude. That even shocked me.”

“Yeah holy shit. Did you shit?”

“Psh. Nah bro, I’m all air.” He then swiftly pushes his ass towards Collin and lets out a cute little poot. Collin slaps Jace’s ass away and he laughs.

“Collin I have a favor to ask you.”

“What could it possibly be?”

Jace extends his pointer finger to Collin. “Pull this please.”

He does so and Jace releases another rancid fart.

“Is the contest still going on? You have a lot to catch up-”

BBUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP

Collin releases a huge, nasty sounding burp that ends in a cute grin.

“Oh we’re getting into another territory now. Watch this.”

Jace stands up and breathes in a big gulp of air. At the same time, he sucks in some more air through his ass, which is loud enough for Collin to hear.

“Wait, you can do this shit on command?”-

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHBHBHBHBHBHBHBHBHBH

PPRRRRRBBBBBBTTBTBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBB

He lets out a massive burp and fart at the same time.

“You win.”

“I know. But it was fun getting you out of your shell.” He smiles and rustles Collin’s hair. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”

“Okay!”

Jace lets something else out, although it’s not gas.

“Hey, um, would you want to take one with me?”

“Sure! but why”

“I’m in the mood to cuddle.”

Collin stares at Jace. “Sure, why not. But can it be in my room? Yours is kind of hot.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Cool cool cool. Oh, and don’t dutch oven me or I’ll bite your dick off.”

“Oh don’t worry. I absolutely will be doing that.”

Collin rolls his eyes and Jace laughs. As they get to the bedroom door, Jace walks into the back of Collin, who immediately takes the moment to rip a nasty sounding fart on Jace’s crotch.

“Dude, I’m so sorry it just slipped out.” Collin says as he opens his door.

“Oh, it’s really on now.”

Jace goes into Collin’s room and closes the door behind him, interested to see what comes of his friendship.

guywhowatches

FFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTT!

You paused, fork almost to your mouth, as your ears were assaulted by the horrific sound of your flatmate Wilson in the bathroom. You wished that he would warn you before he needed to use the throne, cause then you'd have been able to escape before it was too late. You probably would've left now, if you weren't in the middle of eating.

BBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!

soldiersandboots

Jul 4 hard sweaty Soldier PT session

guywhowatches

A shrinking relationship

I sighed, feeling a little down. I barley paid attention as my boyfriend was showing off what was apparently a "breakthrough machine" in terms of science. He'd been given it from a friend to show off for a presentation for a local science fair tomorrow and was giving me an early look. I didn't know what it was, nor did I probably even care. To tell the truth, I just felt distracted.

fartcushion

Confession: I used to purposefully bait this guy on the school bus on the to high school, so that he would use his wrestling skills or musk/gas to put me down. I could tell by the way he interacted with people on the wrestling team and the school body in general that he had a complex about his height ( also shortest on the wrestling team). So whenever I’d rage bait him on the bus I knew he’d plan out how to get back at me later and that excited me. In gym class he’d purposely paired up with me and put me in a reverse headscissor with his ass in my face and his huge warm feet on the back of my head, his farts were long and airy and I could feel my eyes watering up from it. Then after lunch, he’d consistently sit in front of me at the back of the class and casually tried to play off indifference as he raised his ass up on the back of his seat so his ass was level with my face and he’d rip ass in my face, he’d never look back or acknowledge me while he farted on me, and for sum reason that existed me. I’d play it off and rage bait him even more, it was a cycle of me angering him and him falling for it and trying to gross me out.

Ah, when you have the cheat codes to get farts. This is why we shouldn't teach young men to use their words, it's much more preferred when they use their farts

noxiouscontrol

Happy Anniversary

Ethan/Aiden x Jackson - Kinks included: Farts, Facesitting, sweat, Degradation

“Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been a year, Jackson! And you still can’t remember?” Ethan yells. “Shh! Sorry, okay? I was just busy.” Jackson says, looking around to see if anyone is looking. “I’ll uh- Get you some flowers, kay?” Jackson says in a hushed tone as not to alarm anyone.

Ethan groans. “You don’t get it, do you?” He leans against the locker, blocking his boyfriend from opening it. “An anniversary is to celebrate a year together. It’s special.” Ethan says. Jackson rubs his forehead before looking Ethan in the eyes. “Are the flowers not good enough?” He asks.

Ethan rolls his eyes and pushes himself off of the locker. “No.” He says, looking down. He looks back up with a slight smirk. “You know what? Let’s go on a date tonight. I’ll get a booking, don’t worry.”

Jackson raises his eyebrows at the sudden switch. He grins. “Sounds like a deal. Thanks babe.” He says before kissing Ethan on the cheek. “I gotta go. See you tonight then?” He says, grabbing a book from his locker. “I’ll text you the details. See you tonight.” Ethan says after Jackson throws the locker closed. Jackson walks off, leaving a plotting Ethan behind.

thefunkfactory

Corn Fed Boys

Marco adjusted the collar of his Prada polo, trying desperately not to let the bottom of his designer jeans touch the dusty floorboards of the farmhouse hallway. He was twenty-one, a creature of espresso shots, the L train, and artisanal focaccia. He smelled like Santal 33 and hair gel. Here, in the heart of rural Kentucky, the air smelled like wet dog and silage.

"Here ya go, city slicker," Uncle Dale said, slapping Marco on the back with a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. "You’re bunking with the boys."

The door creaked open to reveal the lair of Rufus and Zac. It was a room that smelled aggressively of testosterone, drying sweat, and feed corn. Rufus and Zac were sprawled on their respective twin beds, looking up from a hunting magazine. They were effectively the same person printed in two different sizes: massive, block-headed, with necks thicker than Marco's thighs and corn-silk blond hair buzzed short.

"Well, lookie here," Rufus drawled, sitting up. His biceps strained against a faded camo t-shirt. "Cousin Marco. You look like you'd blow away if a tractor drove past ya too fast."

Zac, the younger but wider brother, snorted. "Don't break him, Ru. Aunt Maria said we gotta be nice. Even if he is wearin' girl pants."

Marco clutched his leather weekend bag tighter. "They're slim-fit," he said, his voice sounding thin and reedy in the dense room. "And I appreciate the hospitality."

"Just throw your stuff in the corner, Hollywood," Rufus said, scratching his stomach with a sound like sandpaper on wood. "You’re on the cot in the middle."

Dinner had been an ordeal of heavy starches and meat, where Marco picked at a casserole while Rufus and Zac shoveled mountains of food into their mouths with mechanical efficiency. Now, with the lights out, the bedroom felt like a pressure cooker.

Marco lay on the flimsy cot between the two massive beds. The room was hot. The window was cracked open, but it offered no relief, only the sound of crickets screaming in the humid night.

"Night, city mouse," Zac chuckled from the left. "Don't let the bedbugs bite," Rufus added from the right. "Or the coyotes."

Within minutes, the snoring started. It wasn't just breathing; it was a dual-engine rumble that vibrated the floorboards beneath Marco’s cot. But the noise was the least of his problems.

It started with a sound like canvas tearing.

Pfffffffft

It came from Rufus. A long, wet, pressurized release that seemed to go on for ten seconds. The smell hit Marco almost instantly,a wall of heat carrying the scent of boiled eggs, sulfur, and something deeply earthy, like fermenting compost.

"Oh god," Marco whispered, pulling his high-thread-count sheet over his nose.

BRRRAAAP-pffff

Zac answered the call from the other side. His emission was sharper, a trumpet blast that heralded a stench of pure, processed protein and decaying corn.

The cousins were asleep, deep in a food coma, but their digestive systems were wide awake and working overtime. The room began to fill. It wasn't just a smell anymore; it was an atmosphere. The air grew thick, humid, and yellowish in the moonlight. Marco tried to hold his breath, but his lungs burned. He gasped, inhaling a massive lungful of the biological smog.

He coughed, choking on the density of it. It tasted like heavy cream and musk. But as the gas entered his bloodstream, the coughing stopped. A strange warmth bloomed in his chest.

Rufus let out a low, rumbling growl from his gut that erupted into a thunderous BLAT that shook the picture frames on the wall. The gas cloud descended over Marco’s cot, heavier than oxygen, sinking into his pores.

The transformation began in his legs. Marco’s flannel pajama pants, already snug, suddenly felt like iron bands constricting his blood flow. He kicked his legs, trying to get comfortable, but the fabric groaned. His calves, usually slender from walking city blocks, began to twitch violently. Muscle fibers shredded and rebuilt in seconds, inflating like balloons. The definition blurred, buried under a sudden layer of thick, insulating bulk.

Marco groaned, but his voice was dropping, the pitch sliding down from a tenor to a gravelly baritone. The country air, rich with the cousins' potent stench, was rewriting him. The expensive cologne on his skin curdled, replaced instantly by the smell of hay and heavy sweat.

Zac ripped another one, a silent-but-deadly creeper that settled directly over Marco’s face. Marco inhaled it greedily now. His brain felt foggy, the sharp, anxious thoughts of New York subway schedules dissolving into a slow, syrupy contentment.

Why was I worried about dirt? he thought sluggishly. Dirt’s good. Dirt grows corn.

His shoulders broadened, cracking loudly as the clavicles lengthened. The cropped pj shirt stretched to its limit, the seams screaming before ripping open down the back. His chest expanded, the ribcage widening into a barrel shape, built for hauling hay bales and hollering across fields. His pale, moisturized skin darkened, thickening into a rugged, sun-baked tan, rough with sudden callouses.

His hands, clutching the sheets, swelled. The manicured fingers thickened into sausages, the knuckles growing knobby and hair-covered. The delicate gold ring he wore on his pinky snapped under the pressure of his expanding flesh.

The Italian gel in his hair failed. His dark, styled locks bleached out, turning a sandy, dirty blonde, and shortened into a practical, fuzzy buzzcut identical to the boys sleeping beside him.

As the night wore on, the room became a gas chamber of brotherhood. The three of them breathed in the same recycled, methane-heavy air. Marco’s mind finished its recalibration. The memories of art galleries and espresso bars were pushed out, replaced by knowledge of carburetor repair, defensive line strategies, and the taste of sweet tea.

He wasn't Marco anymore. That name felt too light, too flimsy.

Somewhere around 3:00 AM, the new boy on the cot contributed to the symphony. His stomach, now vast and solid as an oak tree, churned the heavy dinner he had previously picked at but now metabolically absorbed.

BBBBRRRROOOOMMP

It was a sound of tectonic shifting. The vibration rattled the windows.

The sun rose over the bluegrass, cutting through the haze in the room.

Rufus sat up, scratching his armpit, yawning loudly. He looked down at the cot. The flimsy metal frame lay flattened on the floor, crushed under the weight of the sleeper.

Lying on the mattress on the floor was a third giant. He was wearing the tattered rags of a cropped shirt that looked like a bib on his massive chest, and flannel pants that were more like distressed shorts now. His thighs were tree trunks, covered in hairy fuzz.

The figure stirred, slapping a hand the size of a ham hock against his mouth as he yawned.

"Mornin', Rufus," the boy grumbled, his voice a deep, slow drawl that sounded like tires rolling over gravel.

"Mornin', Mark," Rufus said, not batting an eye. "Sleep good?"

Mark sat up, the movement causing his spine to pop in three places. He scratched his belly, feeling the satisfying roughness of his own skin. He felt hungry. Not for a croissant, but for eggs. A dozen of them. And steak.

"Slept like a log," Mark said. He looked at his brothers. He felt a pressure building in his gut, a familiar, comfortable heaviness.

He leaned to the left, lifting one massive, calloused butt cheek off the mattress.

PRRRRRT-SQUEAK-PFFFFT

It was a wet, heavy finisher that smelled distinctly of the barnyard. A family scent.

Zac woke up at the noise, sniffing the air appreciatively. "Good one, little brother. You're learnin'."

Mark grinned, a wide, goofy, corn-fed smile. He stood up, towering in the small room, a perfect copy of his kin. "Yeah, well," Mark said, hitching up the waistband of his ruined pants. "Better out than in. Let's go eat. I'm starvin'."

"That's the spirit," Rufus said, punching Mark on a shoulder that felt like a bag of cement.

The three brothers walked out into the hallway, thumping heavily on the floorboards, leaving a thick green fog in their wake. The city was a million miles away, and Mark couldn't recall why anyone would want to live there anyway.

gatzilksis-2

Dylan

Reunion & reliving old dynamics

18+

The man of my dreams, the object of my fantasy, the President of my spank bank.

He stands in front of me, looking similar to the version of him in my head, yet also very different.

His light brown hair is cut in a shaggy style, longer than the buzz cut he frequented in high school. Where at first only a few whiskers grew, there is now a beard, not wild but neat.

His body is entirely different, half of him gone. Dylan was 270 back in senior year. Now, he's probably around 200, his extra weight hardened into bulk. He isn't grossly musculed, a healthy balance between fat and muscular.

I can't check to see if he still has a big, wide ass.

Looking at him, in the darkened cafeteria dressed up like a school dance, I'm propelled back to those difficult, cringe teenage days.

The root of my obsession with Dylan was my first secret obsession: flatulence. I've heard and smelled Dylan's farts more times than I can count.

He was one of the popular guys, and his personality changed depending on who was around him. Only one thing never changed about him, though: his tendency to fart anywhere and everywhere, no matter who was around.

My favorite is the time he kept farting in the locker room after gym class, so bad it made my stomach turn. It was incredible, a physical presence in my nose and lungs...

The other great one is the night of our graduation campout. I'd hung out with him and the popular guys, passing around a J in a small tent. Dylan kept farting, until everyone left the tent but me and him.

Unfortunately, nothing happened but more farts. I loved his farts, though. I love all farts from attractive men.

I wonder why he's approached me. We were never really close, only hung out and had conversations a few times. We had plenty of classes together, but that was it.

"Hey, Adam." Dylan shakes my hand and pulls me in to put his other arm around me, a bro hug. "Haven't seen you since school. You missed the last reunion."

I hadn't been in a good enough place to go to my 10 year reunion, so I made sure to go to this one, the 15th. I didn't have many close friends in my graduating class, most older or younger.

"Nice to see you, Dylan." It is, even though he was treating me like we were best friends. I spot several of his popular guy friends in the crowd; why is he choosing to talk to me? "You look really good."

I try not to come across too gay or flirty. He squeezes the back of my neck with a wide, calloused hand, and I fight not to shiver. "Yeah, you too. Uh, you smoke? I could use some fresh air, if you wanna come with."

I can't believe he's asking me to hang out with him, but I stay calm and cool. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."

"Awesome." Dylan turns to start getting through throngs of our former classmates. My eyes drop to his ass as I follow. It's not as big as it had been back then, but it's still bigger than the asses of most men. I've always wanted to squeeze it as he farted on my hands.

We leave the cafeteria, entering the corridor between it and the gym. The ceiling is high, with a skylight, making all sounds echo.

"Oh, I tried to wait but..." Dylan stops and directs me to his side instead of behind him, his warm hands on my arms. He rips a deep, growling, rolling fart that echoes back at us.

The smell is noxious, incredible, just as eggy and skunky as I remember, except turned up to a new high intensity.

"Well, some things haven't changed." I chuckle as I continue walking forward, pushing an outside door open.

"I did fart a lot in school, didn't I?" He smirks and lets a quiet, dark laugh. Dylan trails me into the open air.

I already miss the smell of his fart. We each light a cigarette and blow out smoke. Dylan glances at me, then holds his breath and bends his knees. A fart of bubbly, loud, powerful gas tears out of him for seven seconds. The sound is so satisfying, the smell hanging thickly even in the open air.

"Ah!" Dylan sighs and hits his cigarette. "Yeah, I guess I still kinda fart a lot."

"No judgment here," I say. His fart lingers. I love it. "Can I ask, though, why me? We weren't really the closest."

Dylan's eyes meet mine. A short fart falls out of him, possibly one of nerves. "Because for years, I've barely thought about high school, except for you. We had so many classes together, and I don't remember you ever complaining about my farts..."

militaryfartstories

Chapter one / Story 1 - Welcome to Fort McCoy

The moment Andrew stepped onto the Fort McCoy barracks grounds, he was greeted by a friendly soldier with an easy smile. “Hey, man, I’m Lieutenant Tyler Sumners. Welcome to Fort McCoy.” After a quick introduction, Tyler learned Andrew was looking for Room 2B and laughed when he realized they were roommates. Without hesitation, he grabbed Andrew’s bags, effortlessly slinging the heaviest one over his shoulder. “Damn, you sure have a lot of stuff in here. What do you have, bricks?” he joked as he led Andrew toward the barracks. Along the way, Tyler explained that the room was shared by four soldiers: himself, Corporal Daniel Smith, Private First Class Lucas Carter, and now Andrew. He warned him that Smith was a bit of a hardass, Carter was usually pretty chill, and both of them were completely incapable of acting like mature adults for more than five minutes at a time. By the time they reached Room 2B, Andrew wasn’t sure if he was moving into a military barracks or a frat house. Tyler led Andrew down the hallway and pushed open the door to Room 2B. “Alright, boys, our new roommate’s here!”

Andrew stepped inside and glanced around. The barracks were far nicer than he had expected. The room had a modern feel, with gray walls, dark furniture, built-in LED lighting, and six bunk beds arranged in three bays along the far wall. A couch and television sat in the center of the room, while a recreation area, dining table, kitchenette, and bathroom extended beyond it. Despite being military housing, the place felt surprisingly comfortable and lived-in. A broad-shouldered soldier sitting in a chair immediately looked Andrew up and down. The moment they stepped into the common room, Tyler called out, “Alright, boys! Our new roommate’s here!” A broad-shouldered soldier sitting in a chair immediately looked Andrew up and down. “Well, well, well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a fresh greenhorn. What’s your name, rook?” “Andrew.” Smith smirked. “Andrew? Sounds like a kid’s name. You look like a kid.” Across the room, Carter glanced up from the couch. “Easy, Smith. He’ll grow into it.” Andrew grinned and fired back a sarcastic, “Fuck you.” The room erupted with laughter. “Oh, look at this newbie with the sharp tongue,” Smith said. “I like him already.” After everyone introduced themselves, Andrew looked around the room and noticed six bunks stacked in two rows of three. The metal frames were covered in military-green bedding, duffel bags, and personal items. “So where’s my bunk?” he asked. Tyler pointed toward the middle section of the room. “Yours is the bottom middle bunk. Right there.” Andrew followed his finger and saw the bed tucked beneath Tyler’s upper bunk. On either side of it were the bottom bunks belonging to Carter and Smith. “So I’m stuck between those two?” Andrew asked. Tyler laughed. “Pretty much.” Carter grinned. “Don’t worry. We only fart bomb each other’s bunks occasionally.” Smith shook his head. “He’s lying. It’s at least twice a week and it’s not just the bunks, it’s the pillows that Tyler farts on more often, like every other day.” Tyler smirked. “Guilty, Look on the bright side. You’re in the safest spot. Nah-uh, Carter says, your under Sumners, he will gas you out every night, that’s why we are on the end bunks. Sumner responds to Carter’s correction with a swift move pulling his head down to his ass and letting a large fart right in his face. PPPFFFRRRRTTT. Aahhh want to keep correcting me guys? Sumners snarky question has both of them turn Silent. Good Sumners says, Andrew set his bags down beside the bunk and began unpacking. He put his clothes in the drawers underneath his bunk, hung up a few uniforms in the locker beside the bed, and started organizing his belongings while the others continued talking behind him. As he worked, the conversation somehow shifted from military training to fart-related warfare. “I’m telling you,” Smith said, pointing at Carter, “the worst one was in Germany.” Carter immediately started laughing. “No way. That one was legendary.”

Andrew glanced over his shoulder. “What happened?” Tyler groaned before Carter could answer. “Please don’t encourage him.” Carter ignored him. “Smith was asleep in his bunk. Dead asleep. So I climbed up there real quiet, leaned over the rail, and let out the longest fart of my life right next to his face.”Smith pointed accusingly. “It lasted like ten seconds!” “More like fifteen,” Carter corrected proudly. You woke me up out of a dead sleep!” “Yeah, because you sat straight up and smacked your head on the bunk above you.” “You deserved it,” Tyler said. Smith shook his head. And says well you deserve this then, then Smith shoves Carters head down behind him and lets out a low sounding PFFFRTT. Carter immediately breaks free and covered his face with one hand. “Oh God.” smith grins and walks away saying yea you deserve that. As Andrew finished unpacking and sat down on his bunk for the first time, Tyler climbed onto the bunk above him while Smith and Carter settled back into their usual spots. Looking around at the chaos, Andrew couldn’t help but smile. He had arrived expecting a cold, intimidating military environment. Instead, he’d walked straight into a loud, ridiculous, dysfunctional family that somehow already felt like home. As Andrew continued unpacking his gear, Tyler Sumners and Lucas Carter remained focused on their video game while Daniel Smith watched from a nearby chair, occasionally offering commentary that neither of them had asked for. Carter glanced over at Andrew’s bunk and grinned. “You’ve got a pretty good view from there, rookie. Front-row seats to all the action.” Smith laughed. “And by action, he means us being idiots.” Andrew chuckled as he slid another stack of clothes into his locker. Looking around the room, he noticed there were six bunks even though Tyler had only mentioned three roommates. “Hey, Sumners, question. If there’s only three of you, why does this place have six bunks?” Tyler looked up from the game and laughed. “Good question. We’ve actually got a fourth roommate named Dylan. He’s on night shift right now, so he’s probably asleep while we’re all awake. You’ll meet him later.” Carter smirked. “Yeah, he’s a real piece of work.” Smith nodded. “A real pain in the ass.” Tyler shook his head, already knowing where the conversation was headed. Despite the joking, Andrew could tell there was genuine affection behind the teasing. As he continued unpacking, he found himself wondering what living here would actually be like. The guys seemed friendly, but they were also loud, constantly joking, and clearly very comfortable around one another. He wanted to know if there would be room to relax and have some privacy when he needed it. Tyler seemed to pick up on the concern immediately. “If you’re wondering whether you’ll get space, the answer’s yes. We mess around, roughhouse sometimes, talk trash, and compete over stupid stuff, but nobody’s going to bother you if you need downtime.” Carter nodded. “Yeah, man. We’re loud, but we’re not jerks.” Smith smirked. “Unless you steal somebody’s snacks. Then all bets are off.” That earned a round of laughter from everyone.

Once Andrew had most of his stuff put away, he sat down on the edge of his bunk and asked what they had planned for the day. It was only eight in the morning, and he assumed they’d be heading to a gym for PT. Instead, Tyler laughed and set down his controller. “Honestly, our PT is usually more fun than that. We do partner workouts, carries, wrestling drills, obstacle courses—stuff where you’re working with each other instead of staring at weights all morning.” Carter flexed dramatically. “I’m basically Smith’s favorite piece of workout equipment.” Before Carter could move, Smith reached over and wrapped him in a playful headlock. Carter immediately started laughing and trying to squirm free. “See?” Smith said. “Perfect training tool.” Tyler shook his head. “These two spend half their time competing and the other half pretending they aren’t friends.” Smith released Carter, who immediately shoved him back, starting another brief wrestling match that ended with both of them laughing. “You want to try it?” Smith asked Andrew. “Come on, rookie. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Andrew shook his head. “I think I’ll sit this one out and just observe for now. I kind of want to see how everything works before I jump into it.” Tyler nodded immediately. “Fair enough. No pressure.” Carter pointed at Smith. “Probably smart. This guy thinks every new person is a challenge.” Smith folded his arms with a grin. “Damn right. Rookies always get smashed.” The room erupted into laughter again. Sitting there watching them joke, argue, play video games, and occasionally wrestle like brothers, Andrew found himself relaxing more and more. The atmosphere wasn’t tense or intimidating at all. It was easygoing, comfortable, and surprisingly welcoming—the kind of place where everyone looked out for one another even while giving each other a hard time.

Sumners gestured toward the empty space on the couch between him and Carter. “Come on, newbie. Crash with us. We don’t bite… much.” Carter patted the vacant cushion beside him. “Yeah, get in here. The view’s better from this angle.” Andrew walked over and sat down between them while Smith watched from his recliner across the room. Smith narrowed his eyes and pointed toward the couch. “Just don’t fart. We’re all on edge since Sumners had Taco Bell last night.” Almost immediately, Sumners shifted on the couch, leaning away from Andrew so that his backside was pointed in Andrew’s direction. PPFFFFRRRRTTTT. Sumners leaned back with a satisfied look. “Too late.” Carter glanced over and immediately held out a fist. “Damn, Sumners. That one had some bass to it.” The two exchanged a fist bump while Smith shook his head. “And here I thought we were gonna ease the kid into it.” Sumners folded his arms. “Consider that my official welcome gift.” Andrew caught a whiff and instinctively covered his nose and mouth with one hand. “Oh, come on,” Sumners said. “It wasn’t that bad.” Carter pointed at Andrew and smirked. “Dude, your face right now.

Sumners nodded toward Carter. A second later, Carter shifted on his side of the couch, turning slightly toward Andrew. PFFFFFFFTTTT. “Ahhhh… whoops.” Andrew leaned back against the couch cushions and stared up at the ceiling while Sumners grinned and gave Carter another fist bump. The two of them then looked toward Smith. A few moments later, Smith stood up from his recliner, took a couple of steps, turned toward Andrew with a mischievous grin, and paused. PBBBBBBT. Then he casually sat back down as if nothing had happened. Sumners immediately held out his fist. “Good one, Smith.” After another fist bump, Carter looked around the room. “The room is officially a biohazard zone.” Smith reclined comfortably in his chair and shrugged. “Consider it a welcome from all of us. To what we like to call Fart McCoy. ”

Andrew finally dropped his hand from his face and fell back against the couch cushions, his head tilted toward the ceiling in complete surrender. He took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and started coughing. Once he recovered, he opened his mouth to say something. Sumners shook his head with a grin. “That was the most defeated sigh I’ve ever heard.” Carter tells Andrew “Just let it happen, man. The gas always wins.”Sumner adds to carters comment like a seasoned mentor. “First rule of Fort McCoy? Breathe through your mouth.” The room settled for a moment before Sumners suddenly leaned away and let out another PFFFTTTT. ooh- Carter reacted, then sniffed the air and nodded thoughtfully. “that’s the good stuff. Aged like fine milk.” Sumners smiled and high fives Carter. Still staring at the ceiling, Andrew simply accepted his fate as the room’s collective cloud of bad decisions lingered overhead. Sumners stretched comfortably and rested an arm along the back of the couch. “Okay, okay, I’ll call a ceasefire—for now. But at least you took it like a champ. Sumner adds.

Smith chimes in yeah, Most guys start crying by now." Carter adds "Yeah, or they throw up." Still lounging around the common room, the conversation gradually slowed as everyone settled back into their seats. After a few moments, Sumners glanced up at the clock on the wall and pushed himself off the couch with a stretch. “Alright, enough screwing around. We should probably head to chow. The sooner we get food, the sooner Carter’s gut can go to work.” Carter immediately groaned. “You guys are never gonna let that go, are you?” Smith smirked as he stood up from his recliner. “Not until your ass stops sounding like a tuba, buddy.” Sumners shook his head, grabbed his cap, and nudged Andrew’s shoulder as he headed toward the door. “C’mon, rookie. Let’s go eat before Carter preloads his next bioattack. Pro tip: sit upwind of him.” “I’m standing right here,” Carter replied. Before anyone could move, he shifted in his seat and let out a quick PFFFRRT. Sumners stopped in his tracks and looked back at him in disgust. “You’re sleeping with one eye open tonight.” Carter shrugged. “Worth it.”

The group started toward the hallway, but not before Sumners gave Carter a long look. A slow smirk spread across his face as he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, the kind of expression that made it obvious he was already planning payback. “Keep talking,” he said. “See you at lights-out.” Carter only grinned as Smith shook his head and followed them toward the door. “Ahhh, just like family. Welcome to hell, Andrew.” One by one, they filed out of Room 2B, still trading jokes and insults as they headed toward the chow hall

End of Story 1

lifewithdavefarts

DaveFarts - Episode 38 “The Long One” [Episode List] Tim and Todd spend some quality time together. Meanwhile, Dave is filming some more fart-porn with Greg... and gets a bit competitive about it.

This story was originally posted some months ago. This is a partial rewriting.

POV: Tim

"Well... it wasn't bad, come on." said Todd, clearly trying to be nice.

I appreciated the white lie.

"It was painful." I said, opening the apartment door.

Dave isn't home: he said something about his job, then he'd go straight to the gym and then had some things to do with Greg. The less I know, the better, as long as Greg is involved, as confirmed by our other friends.

Also, he knows Todd’s here, so he basically went “go nuts” to leave us some privacy.

"Welcome back to our humble abode." I said to my guest.

Ted isn't my boyfriend (and he doesn't introduce himself as such either), but we've been seeing each other occasionally in the last 3 weeks, practically since we met at the wedding. We like each other, to put it simply. He's not from Limdale like us, but from a city not far from here, half an hour's drive at most.

I took the liberty, more as a threat, of showing him "the wonders" of our little town, knowing full well it would be awful, but he insisted.

"The riverfront was nice." he said, trying to salvage the situation.

"A glorified sewer drain, but thanks."

lifewithdavefarts

DaveFarts - Episode 34 “Fart Flight” [Episode List] Dave's stomach gets messy during a flight.

POV: Tim

“This is the last time we do this before dawn.” 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.

Because of work (and the unreliable airline), we had to cut it down to just today. The consolation is that we’ll 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 won’t admit it, also because of the flight itself.

I don’t mind flying, I know it’s safe. I do agree with my bro when he says that it’s sorcery don’t get me wrong, but I’m 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.

“Relax man.” I said. “We’re right on schedule -maybe a bit too much”

“I know I know…”

At least he’s aware of when he’s being unnecessarily anxious. Made funnier by the fact that he’s usually the one who plans this stuff. I can’t blame him: we’re 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 doesn’t work. It’s not like we weren’t properly dressed (I was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, while Dave a grey one, and black swimming trunks).

hookedonhuge

Flat(ulence)mates - Week 1

(Week 2, Week 3)

I hate it here! It’s only been a week at this new place but I am done with it already! I came to this place for cheap rent but I can see why now. The housemates are insufferable! I’m stuck here with three ‘bros’ who take the stereotype of being lazy, untidy, smelly, and thoughtless to the absolute extreme. The house is always a smelly mess and they love farting as much as possible. They even have weekly farting competitions! I didn’t think people this gross existed.

Their names are Tom, Zeke and Bobby, but they all call each other by the nicknames: ‘Trumpet’, ‘Sneak’ and ‘Bomb’. Unfortunately for me, I have gotten to know Tom well. Even more unfortunately, I have come to understand why his nickname is ‘Trumpet’.

On my move-in day when I opened the front door, carrying bags full of all my stuff, I wasn’t met with warm smiles or even a handshake. No, I was greeted by Tom’s big butt pointed towards me followed by a loud BRRAAAAAP! The three of them laughed in hysterics after I was hit by that trumpet-like blast from Tom. After calming down they finally introduced themselves, although things quickly became awkward when they realised I wasn’t amused. Were they really expecting me to laugh along with them!

Did I mention that the three of them were absolute studs? My scrawny self felt awkward enough trying to slot in amongst these buff men, let alone being tormented by their gas all day. Out of the three, Tom was definitely the main tormentor. I’ve been thinking ‘Tormentor’ might be a more fitting nickname for him, but his orchestra of loud, windy farts always seem to prove my idea wrong.

buttangelthoughts

THE MIDNIGHT FACESITTERS 3 - MIDNIGHT MAYHEM (Home invasion Fart story)

This is the best fart story you'll ever read, goon to it, read it over and over and you'll become as pathetic as the victim. ;*

• this is FANTASY i don't condone this behaviour irl it's just a story

This chapter contains: [farts (obviously), light shart (?), cum eating, cock beating, filthy/sweaty BARE ass, crying/dacrophyllia, breath control and home invasion concept]

Follow the Midnight Facesitters as they fully get into the gross routine. This chapter is FILLED with torture of smelly ass, farts and sm more. Enjoy you freak.

Part 3: Midnight Mayhem

Time: 9:22PM

I had been practically microwaved under George and Nicks greedy asses for minutes on end. The process of one of them lifting up to filter my air to keep me from passing out had gotten a little stale, and i'm sure there were as bored as me - despite the stench i had to endure. George's butt leans back, talking to Nick.

"You wanna bare arse him? I've worked up some sweat down there i don't wanna waste, you'll be alright though swamp ass," he chuckles, smacking his friend.

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