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WARNING: This is a fart and burp fetish story!

The day of the St. Patrick’s Day parade was known to be one of the most debaucherous days in Asbury Park. While normally cops would care if you had open containers in public, they didn’t bat an eye as revelers walked along the streets with cocktails and beer cans in their hands.

While everyone was riding on good times, Emilia Pinker’s good time had been cut short abruptly. Emilia had holed herself up in a bathroom stall of The Ale House. While a good number of women were also holed up in bathroom stalls, they were busy throwing up, whereas Emilia had hidden in the bathroom in order to cry alone. She had been crying for the past ten minutes, to the point where her eyeliner dripped in long black rivers down her cheeks.

At some point, she would have to get out and face the music. She couldn’t bear to stand out with how horrid her face looked. She waited for the bathroom to empty out, but that could have been a very long time.

It didn’t matter anyway. Sonam, Michelle, Jenna – they all hated her.

Sonam was her oldest friend. Emilia felt like she owed everything to her. Sonam was the reason Emilia had any friends in high school, the reason she met guys and had good times. Sonam’s family loved watching Emilia grow up and helped her through some tough times when her own family was being callous and distant.

But Sonam always had to control her life – tell her how she should think, what she should say, whom she should hang out with. But what got to Emilia all the time was that Sonam always had to say something about Emilia’s weight.

Always.

“Did you gain weight? You gained weight, didn’t you?”

“Stop eating so much.”

“I thought you said you were working out.”

“I think you had enough.”

Growing up, Emilia always heard unwarranted comments from her own family about her weight. It wasn’t easy growing up with a big appetite. She wasn’t a “fat kid” in school but somehow, even after doing track and lacrosse, she just had a certain thickness to her that never went away. She was still the fittest in her karate class. She had a black belt and could kick anyone’s ass.

And yet it was not enough.

“Your thighs are too big!” her older cousin Maria would constantly say. “Why are they so big?”

“Hehe,” her own brother Alex would laugh. “You’re like the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

She grew up with him always trying to poke her and tickle her because she reminded him of that stupid mascot. She hated seeing those commercials.

For as long as she could remember, Emilia was constantly told that her arms were too big, or that her thighs were the size of Texas, or that her cheeks seemed chubbier, or that she had some pudge. Every boyfriend had said she was beautiful . . . but she didn’t believe it. They were just being nice. Such a hardened belief fucked with her. Her insecurities always got in the way of her dating life.

This time, it was St. Patrick’s Day. It was time to splurge. Just a little. Right?

Beer never really agreed with Emilia anyway. After having only three, her belly bulged a bit. Sonam looked at her, scoffed, and said, “I thought beer bellies were only for guys.”

To top it off, the weekend had already been hectic. Sonam wanted to strictly go all the way down to Asbury Park and party there for St. Patrick’s Day, even though Emilia had mentioned that it was a tough drive for her coming from up north. She always had to do the most driving going to wherever Sonam wanted to go. But Emilia was afraid to mention it again because she knew Sonam would flare up about the slightest hint of dissention. Emilia didn’t want a repeat of Sonam’s 21st birthday party a couple years ago. The very thought of it made her shudder. Sonam screamed at her in front of everyone for wanting to step out of the club and talk on the phone with her boyfriend. Emilia promised it wouldn’t be long. Just a moment. But everything had to be about Sonam. Every single bit of attention.

Emilia calmed down and stopped crying. She used the toilet paper to wipe the eyeliner from her eyes, albeit roughly.

Drunken girls still cackled in the bathroom.

Emilia’s stomach grumbled.

Great. Just what she needed now. The farts.

Her friends always made fun of her for being the gassiest in their group. Maria would scold her all the time for farting out loud. Emilia would blush and apologize meekly. She just couldn’t help it. Maria told her that she was an adult and that she should hold it in until later, but having certain intolerances just couldn’t allow that. Nobody else understood when your stomach is literally churning like a witch’s brew and the gas needs to come out. A single bagel with cream cheese once let her rip a fart loud enough to be heard across the entire lacrosse field. Unlike most times, her teammates were actually quite impressed, though grossed out. Of course, Sonam was always disgusted by her farts, no matter how many times Emilia warned her ahead of time or apologized. She was never really good at controlling her sphincter. It would hurt to try to hold back so much gas. She never understood how those stuck up prissy bitches in high school never farted.

The bathroom finally fell silent after everyone else left. Emilia was about to get up and leave before someone entered. She sounded very drunk as she hummed along a makeshift tune. She wore boots and her loud footsteps staggered. She finally entered the stall next to Emilia’s and sat down with a sigh.

Emilia started to wonder if the grumbling inside her was gas or poop. She sat back down and pulled down her panties to double-check. Most of the times it was really just a great ball of gas, but one could never be too sure.

Seconds later, Emilia knew for sure that it was a massive fart. She blushed with embarrassment. The other girl would hear. Even though they never saw each other, the thought of being humiliated again was so painful.

The gas built up. It was pushing to be let out.

Emilia huffed, trying to calm herself down. She never gave birth of course, but she imagined that maybe a part of this could apply to how it felt.

PRRRRP.

Her fart sounded like a brass trumpet, reverberating against the bathroom walls. She froze, clenching her ass as hard as she could to prevent the rest from escaping.

The other girl kept quiet. Emilia didn’t hear her scoff in disgust. She remembered once, also while drunk, when she had ripped ass while washing her hands in the school bathroom, and a clique of skinny bitches stopped talking to glare at her with the most disgusted looks.

Then, as if in a response, the other girl fart.

PRRRRRRRP.

The other girl grunted, then sighed.

Somehow, that made Emilia so much better about the situation. Here was a total stranger who had completely been okay with her farting out loud. It was quite refreshing, having come from a school where the girls never farted in the bathroom and let them out as silently as they could, some of them hissing like balloons.

Emilia’s bowels trembled. She closed her eyes and thought, “Well, fuck it. Here it goes.”

The second she let go, she couldn’t hold back. The dam had burst. Emilia’s farts exploded one after another. The first one escaped with an abrupt burst, then the second had a much higher tone. Then there was a pause, until a bassy one tore through her sphincter, the hotness swelling inside of her. She groaned at that last one. It was like pushing out a giant shit, but this was all gas.

Emilia’s face turned beet red. She had never ever before farted so much in someone else’s presence.

When the farts died out and the bathroom became quiet again (with the exception of the distant revelries beyond the walls), the other girl giggled. It wasn’t a mean giggle, but one of bubbly surprise. She said, “Holy crow! You beat me!”

The other girl grunted. She stopped, then grunted again. When nothing sounded, she said, “Damn. I never knew anyone who beat me. I need to drink more, that’s why. I’m not even drunk.”

The other girl flushed, then got out of the stall. Emilia waited for her to leave but she seemed to be checking herself out in the mirror. The shy side of Emilia told her to remain where she was. But at the same time, Emilia had been hiding in the bathroom for far too long now and had to leave eventually. She was also curious about the other girl. She had sounded cute, and Emilia developed her own image in her head on what she must look like. Curly hair? Freckles?

Emilia bit the bullet, flushed, and opened the stall.

She came across one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen. Beautiful was too simple to describe her. The other girl was busy fixing her eyeliner and checking her teeth. She had a massive bust with fantastic cleavage. She wore a green corset with black jeans that prominently displayed her ass. She was plump and short, maybe about 5”2. The boys would call her “fun-sized.” But those hips! Those thighs! Emilia had always been self-conscious of her own thighs. But this girl didn’t seem to care. She had put on tight jeans and rocked them, despite her thunder thighs.

The other girl finally noticed her in the mirror, then turned to her. She had long black hair and bangs.

She said, sweet and melodic, “Aw. What’s wrong?”

Emilia blanked out.

“Were you crying?”

Emilia had completely forgotten about how she looked. She quickly doused her face with water.

“Asshole boyfriend?”

Emilia cleared her throat. “No, actually. Just a friend.”

“What they do?”

Emilia considered leaving it be, saying goodbye, and moving on. Instead, she looked into the girl’s eyes and decided to vent about everything. Maybe some of it was due to the six pints of Guinness that she had. Maybe another part was finally tired of Sonam’s “friendship” and was ready to crack.

When Emilia reached the peak of her drama with Sonam commenting about her belly and thighs, she broke down crying again.

“I’m just so tired of it!” she sobbed. “I n-n-ever felt beautiful. My brother always said I was too fat. Sonam says I’m too fat. My cousins say I’m—I’m—fat.”

The girl stepped forward to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She said the usual “There, there” and “It’s okay.” Her voice was soft and gentle, with a hint of sultriness underneath. Emilia could listen to that voice forever.

“I used to get comments like that too,” the girl then said. “Do you know how long it took me to feel comfortable in jeans? Three years ago I wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing these. I always wore dresses and I wanted to find some way to hide my ass, thighs, and belly. I lost weight. I did. But it just came back. My family has a history of diabetes. Thankfully I don’t have it, but the doc said there’s a genetic factor at play. This is just how I’m gonna look like, and you know what? Fuck it. And you know what else?”

The girl made sure Emilia looked at her. “Look at me. You know what else? You can totally rock it. And there ARE guys who will want to fuck the SHIT out of you because of how you look.”

Emilia started to calm down. It wasn’t so much because of the girl’s attempts at helping, but because the wave of anxiety had finally started to subside after venting. She wasn’t quite sure if she believed the girl. She even said aloud, “I never believe it when someone says stuff like that to me. I think you’re just trying to be nice. I have a double chin. I have a fucking double chin. Don’t act like it’s not there.”

“If a guy literally won’t fuck you because of a double chin, then he’s gotta really work something out. There is so much more to a person.”

Two other girls barged in suddenly. They were clearly shitfaced and cackled. Emilia panicked and looked away, but the girl said, “Hey, it’s alright, these are my friends. Sarah and Emy!”

Emy was as short as the girl but slimmer and blond. Sarah was the tallest and heaviest, but the bustiest girl that Emilia had ever seen. She thought this girl was busty, but now Sarah broke that record for being even bustier. Sarah had flowing, shining red hair and a wide smile. Everything about her shouted bold and big.

“Oh,” the girl finally said, “and I’m Melissa. But I go by Mel. Or Melly. Really just Melly.”

“What’s happenin’ over here?” Emy slurred, using Sarah for support.

Sarah tried to stand straight. “We thought you’d be in the BOYS BATHROOM sucking dick.” She and Emy cackled with laughter.

Emilia finished making sure she looked presentable and figured this was the time now to leave. She headed towards the door when Melly said, “Hey, wait. You’re not thinking of going back to them, are you?”

Emilia said, “Ummmm.”

“No. NO! That’s ridiculous!”

Sarah and Emy chimed in, “Yeah! Ridiculous!” Sarah then added. “No idea wassss going on but it’s RIDICULOUS.”

Emilia didn’t know what to say. She murmured something incoherent, but Melly took her hand and said, “Hey, we’re going to have some REAL fun.”