Fart story oneshots!

A Weekend with Mom 2 (Niceone404 commission)

https://www.reddit.com/r/WomenFartStories/comments/xw3pgr/a_weekend_with_mom_2_niceone404_commission/

Eric watched TV, enjoying himself very much. Susan reclined on the couch, reading. The whole living room stunk like broccoli.

"These reek," Susan remarked. "You sure you can't smell them?"

"I'm far enough away," Eric lied with a shrug.

"Lucky." Susan lifted her butt and pushed out a meandering fart. The smell quickly reached Eric. It smelled just like the broccoli from dinner. Susan had taken down an impressive pile all by herself.

She farted every few minutes, Eric subtly basking in the stench. He periodically admired Susan's butt in her small pajama shorts. They clearly weren't designed to confine an ass like Susan's, her cheeks defiantly bulging ouTheThe bottom.

Roughly an hour -or 10 farts- later, Susan got up.

"Honey, tomorrow I need to run some errands, so I'll need you to do the laundry."

"I hate doing the laundry," Eric protested.

"Well it needs to be done," Susan said. "You gonna help me?"

"Fine."

"Great." Susan started to leave, blowing out one more fart on her way by his seat; a short, biscuity puff. The warm, sulfuric odor washed over Eric. "There you go, since you didn't get to smell any of them earlier."

Susan went to bed, and Eric lingered until the smell was completely gone. He wanted more. Of course, each day he spent at home with Susan, meant more farts. But that wasn't enough anymore. He wanted a pure, unadulterated whiff, directly from the source. He formulated with a plan.

The next morning, Eric stayed in bed. He heard Susan going about her business, letting deep, foghorn morning farts slip throughout. Eric pictured what they would be like up close. Each one was four seconds or longer, bassy, rumbling. Eric's morning wood stood tall the entire time. Finally, Susan grabbed her keys, but before stepping out, the telltale jingle made its way over to Eric's room.

Susan knocked. "Come in," he said.

"Morning," Susan said, poking her head in. "Gonna do the laundry?"

"Yes," Eric said into his pillow.

"Okay. I'm leaving, have it done by the time I'm back."

Susan left, and Eric laid there. He passed the time on his phone. Eventually he heard Susan's car. She announced herself with a squeaky, trumpeting fart and a sigh of relief as she came in. She put things away and finished her business, before finally going to the basement. When she came back up, grumbling, Eric knew she was coming his way.

This time, Susan didn't knock, barginginto Eric's room and glaring, hands on her hips.

She wore a zip-up athletic shirt and a pair of pale leggings, clutching her protein shake. She'd be particularly volatile after drinking that.

"You didn't do the laundry."

"Sorry, super tired today," he said.

"Well, too bad. Come on, get up and get it done."

"Give me a minute," Eric resisted.

"Fine," Susan said, "I'm going on my run, but you better have started when I get back, or else."

"Or else what?" Eric challenged. He hid his face so Susan couldn't see his wry smile.

"You're in trouble."

"I'd rather be in trouble than do laundry. As long as you don't fart on me," Eric said, setting off his plan.

"Maybe I will," Susan threatened, "know what? If you're still in bed and the laundry isn't done, I'm giving you a nasty Dutch oven."