You had been minding your own business really, just another typical day at the office, only this time the CEO needed his computer fixed before he got back from his meeting and you were the guy who suddenly had to drop everything to help him out. You’d just finished up with the fix and had scooted under his large wooden desk, the most ostentatious thing in his otherwise modern office.
As you sit plugging the various wires back into the desktop you hear the door open and shut, followed by the distinct clicking sound of the lock and a grumble. You freeze in place, suddenly not sure what to do - you should announce yourself, right? What if he’s in a bad mood and takes it out on you? You open up your mouth and take a breath to speak up but before you can make any noise you’re beaten to the punch.
A rippling fart erupts from the man’s behind, un-mistakably. It’s promptly followed up by an ‘UURP-hh, god, damnit...’ from his other end. Your boss’s boss’s boss then takes a seat at the desk with a wet groan and another quiet burp - the desk chair squeaking as his ample weight descents upon it.
Your mouth closes again. Well you definitely can’t speak up now. You stare out the only exit from the solid antique desk, currently blocked by the CEO’s crotch. His suit clings around his bulge in this position, his legs spread out in an ungentle-manly manner. He’s a lot chubbier than you thought he was, his round belly straining out over his belt and making you practically drool. A hand drifts down into view and you hold your breath, his fingers run over the sumptuous curve of his gut to unbutton one section of his suddenly too-tight shirt before slipping his hand inside to rub his belly in firm circles.
3 small, soft burps slip from his throat in quick succession. He groans out again - this time in satisfaction rather than frustration - and leans to one side. You brace yourself for the inevitable explosion but it never comes; instead hear hear a quiet ‘pffffffffffff’, it’s disappointing until the smell hits you. It’s hot and spicy and stings your nose, the aroma cloying and sour enough the make your eyes water - but that’s clearly not all he’s got in the tank, the sharp, loud bubbling and gurgling which courses through his gut after he vents himself makes that abundantly clear.
PrrrbbbblllRRRP PRRP PRLP!
One long fart squeezes itself out from between his plump cheeks, followed by two startlingly loud rips! You’re slowly being gassed out by the most important guy in your building, and if you so much as cough its all over for you. You’re stuck there inhaling his raunchy gas through your nose, and it’s driving you absolutely wild, your face burning and adding to the heat the boss was already providing.
He clicks and pauses; for a moment you think you’d been found out but then another sharp growling gurgle runs through his lower intestine, breaking the silence and followed by another grunt from the musky man. He shimmies himself down in the seat, angling his hips up and pointing his gas cannon directly towards you. You silently move the hand that’s only an inch away from where one of his feet repositioned - which then begins to bounce restlessly.
Ptpp p p pp p pttfp prtpr pt prrp pffft
After a few seconds of this short, potent toots begin to slip from his behind - he wasn’t even trying to release them anymore, they were simply falling out of him every time his thick, suited thigh lifted up. Silently you gag, these are the worst ones yet, absolutely disgusting, muggy bubbles that pop in your face with every bounce of his knee.
A quiet “hnnng” leaves him, and then he pulls his hand from his belly to instead grab his desk. He pushes in his chair towards you; you press yourself back against the furthest part of the desk (lucky it’s so big) and wait with baited breath. Through the limited light you’re afforded at this point you can see his round, bloated gut. Hanging over his belt and half unbuttoned, he presses himself up against thedesk, jabbing the edge of it into his abdomen and dislodging what sounds like a huge cluster of trapped gas bubbles.
He gasps softly, but you can barely hear him over the sounds his incredibly angry stomach is making, gurgling ominously and bubbling lower and lower…
BRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRPPPPARRRPTLPLPLPLPPRPRPR-…PPPPRRRRRAAAB PRAPPRRRRP SPRRRT.
That last bit of the gargantuan rip the boss makes directly into your face sounded a bit too wet to be safe in that expensive suit he wore, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s lost in a euphoric relief he makes clear with a deep, rumbling moan. You both sit there in silence for what seems like a century, his gas lingering around you as he’d left very little room for ventilation. You start to feel giddy from the whole ordeal, momentarily afraid you might pass out.
Then he pushes his chair back again, suddenly, a rush of fresh air hits your overheated face. He pats his desk, grabs his briefcase and fiddles with it, picks up his car-keys and makes his way out of his office if nothing had happened and he were simply leaving a little early today.
How can you possibly get past the secretary without being noticed after all that? You’ll have to wait a while at least.
