Fart story oneshots!

Hard Counter

Summary:

This story was done as a commissioned sequel to an earlier request called "Soft Counter" with some similar themes.

Tracer and Widowmaker are both bloated with gas that causes their assets as well as the ones of anyone around them to expand whenever they release it. They use their powers against some of the other female fighters on the battlefield, before meeting for a private rendezvous with some absurdly large and gaseous results.

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"Cheers love!" Tracer said cheekily as she zipped by her opponent. Her newfound size did little to impede her mobility. So long as her chronal accelerator worked, she could still rush across the battlefield no matter how bloated she may have been. And Lena Oxton was bloated indeed, with an enormous, ballooning belly filled to the brim with farts, and a fat, wobbly ass that was eager to expel them.

The same couldn't be said for her enemy however, as Tracer released a cloud of the gas that had been building in her ballooning belly directly in her face as she rushed past her.

"Ugh, what the hell?" she coughed, as she was bombarded with the stinking cloud. She was told to prepare for anything from the Overwatch agents, but Talon hadn't prepared for her this kind of chemical warfare. Tracer's farts weren't just exceptional for their size and volume though, although her raspy eruption was plenty noisy and smelled bad enough to make the hardened female soldier dizzy. They had a body altering effect on anyone who inhaled them either, as the Talon soldier was about to discover. It was the same reason why Tracer had become so big in the first place, thanks to Widowmaker releasing her own cloud of expansive gas on her. The Talon foot soldier found her own body suddenly swelling up until she had a belly and butt of proportions that were nearly as exaggerated as Tracer's herself. Unlike Ms. Oxton, her outfit wasn't designed to contain a boulder sized belly or a butt like two beach balls, and so her outfit was torn up by her advancing form, leaving all of that newly expanded flesh totally exposed. At least her breasts went up by a cup size or two, but the Talon soldier wasn't really in the mood to look on the bright side of things at the moment. She cursed her opponent as she waddled after her, that humiliatingly bodacious butt bounding behind her with every step. All the added weight made it hard for her to move, and eventually she was left wheezing and exhausted as Tracer effortlessly blinked away from her, laughing to herself all the way as she searched for another another unsuspecting target to strike with a sudden butt bomb.

Tracer's gasceous assaults weren't just limited to her foes, however. Just because a girl was fighting for Tracer's team, didn't mean she'd be spared a whiff of Tracer's expansive flatulence.

Mercy was about to find this out the hard way. Tracer gave her a drive-by ass blasting, forcing out a fart right in Mercy's direction as she sprinted past her, belting out a half-hearted apology as she blinked away, leaving Mercy smothered in a suffocating cloud of the brit's gas. "Excuse me!" she said with a grin. "I guess it must've just slipped out," she added, as though she hadn't intentionally forced that fart out of her fat ass just to mess with her.

Mercy couldn't help but be fascinated as her body bloated before her, her breasts, stomach, and ass all swelling up at once with a sound like a balloon being filled with custard. This continued until she was left with F-cup breasts, a belly that looked like she was overdue with triplets, and an ass like two bowling balls had been shoved down the back of her panties.

"How fascinating. I should examine this more closely, for research purposes, of course," Mercy said, as she fondled her new assets with a lewd smile and the faint glistening dew of excited sweat on her forehead.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battlefield, Talon had a similar secret weapon of their own. Unlike Tracer, who was merely mischievous, Widowmaker downright delighted in the production and expulsion of her growth-causing gas. While she would sneak up on her enemies like a silent hunter, the moans she released while her bubble butt erupted right in their face was anything but subtle. That didn't matter though, as they'd already be helplessly swollen to the point of immobility, helpless to do anything as Widowmaker continued to bombard them with her gas for her own sick sexual satisfaction, until they quite literally couldn't become any bigger. Then she would swing away on her grappling hook, which was just barely strong enough to hold under her new added weight.