Their housing arrangement had been on a whim; Gigi would be in Japan for work-related reasons, and Mori suggested she room with her instead of navigating the hellscape of Tokyo real estate. Gigi eagerly accepted, and the two of them were watching anime and playing gacha games on the same couch within five hours of Gigi’s plane touching down. The early weeks of cohabitation were just as pleasant and fun-filled as any enjoyer of GremReaper would have expected.

Yet, as the days turned to weeks and the harsh Japanese summer showed its true mettle, tensions formed in their relationship. Gigi was getting handsy– really handsy. She started the morning with a quick grope of Mori’s fat, heavy, braless tits the moment she rolled out of bed, squeezed Mori’s tummy from behind while she was getting dressed, and “pretended” to huff her armpits whenever Mori raised her arms to stretch or grab something from the higher shelves.

It was easy enough to dismiss those encounters as Classic Gigi Shenanigans, but things only intensified…especially when concerning Mori’s backside. Gigi commented on it whenever Mori walked in the room, layering vulgar phrases atop one another like a horny poet to properly describe its shape, mass, and erotic appeal. Not a day went by without Gigi casually laying a powerful smack against Mori’s fat cheeks or giving her hams a firm squeeze when they crossed paths in the hallway. Every conversation eventually segued into lusting over Mori’s dumptruck ass, even when in the presence of esteemed Japanese senpai, staff members, or industry professionals.

These were the thoughts and worries that went through Mori’s head as she stood in front of her home, house keys nervously jangling in her palm. She could only guess (and dread) what form Gigi’s unfettered perversion would take next.

The moment Mori opened the door, she heard a thump from the living room and a rapid patter of footfalls racing down the hall.

“Mori Calliope! Mori Calliope!” Gigi slid across the ground on her knees, seamlessly transitioning to the dogeza position with her forehead pressed firmly to the floor at Mori’s sneakers. “Welcome back!”

“Uh…hey, Gigi,” Mori said, internally bracing for whatever fresh hell Gigi had cooked up for this afternoon. “What’s with the-”

“Please sit on my face!”

Mori physically staggered as a soft “Guh!” escaped her lips. She cleared her throat and uttered a forced, nervous laugh. “Aha, good one, my dude. Don’t think that’s gonna happen, though.”

“Please?!”

“Nope.”

“Pretty please?!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“B-but you promised!” Gigi raised her head and gave Mori her best puppy-dog eyes. Her floppy gremlin tail wagged sadly behind her, adding to the motif of a dog denied its treats.

“Promised? What? When?”

“Your coupon thing you gave me during my birthday! It said you would do anything!”

Ah, right. The gag gift. A hastily drawn PNG delivered on stream as a punchline to Mori’s on-going refusal to play League. Who would have thought Gigi had that trump card tucked in her pocket all this time later.

“Yeahhh, still gonna be a ‘No’ from me,” Mori replied, trying to ignore how shamelessly Gigi’s eyes swept up and down the curves of her breasts and hips while they talked. No matter how many years she spent in Hololive, Mori could never fully adapt to other girls lusting over her body.

“Please, please, please!” Gigi pleaded with shameless, genuine desperation.

Mori sidestepped Gigi like she was avoiding a puddle on the sidewalk. “Nope. I don’t want to.” She then power-walked to her bedroom, Gigi hot on her heels like an overbearing car salesman.

“But, but-!”

Mori slammed her bedroom door and gave the lock a satisfying twist. She didn't have the strength for this nonsense, not after ten hours of recording. Mori kicked off her shoes and collapsed on her bed. She stared at the ceiling, her lustrous pink hair fanned out beautifully around her shoulders, and thought about how to manage the remaining two weeks Gigi would be spending with her in Japan.

Sit on her face? A ridiculous request, even by Gigi’s standards. Of course, at the end of the day, Gigi’s verbal and physical molestation was just a game, a way to rile up her friends. There’s zero chance she’d actually want to go through with it if Mori called her bluff…right?


The izakaya, tucked within a small labyrinth of narrow backstreets, was warm and rowdy. Many of the JP girls were properly sloshed and hung off Mori’s arms like ditzy college co-eds having their first beer. Mori enjoyed her time here to the fullest, this outing having come at the tail end of a death march of projects that all wrapped up within the same two days. She was free from deadlines and meetings for a while, and her relaxed diet certainly reflected that.

Plate after plate of greasy, meaty kabobs disappeared down Mori’s gullet. Foamy amber beer poured down her throat in the wake of dozens of enthusiastic “Kanpai!”, bloating her gut until it started encroaching over waistband with its pudgy, gurgling mass. Only after the room started listing and her words started slurring did Mori assess herself and pass on another round. She hadn’t gone this hard on alcohol for a while. Though, with enough water and rest, she could possibly avoid the throbbing hangover gathering strength behind her eyes.

“Hey, sorry, girls,” Mori said, suddenly getting out her wallet. She dropped a thick stack of yen on the table, more than enough to cover her share plus a few other members. “It’s been a long day, so I should probably-” Mori paused to yawn into the back of her hand, “-head back home. I’ll catch you guys later, okay?”

There was a burst of discontent from the other talents as they drunkenly pleaded for her company (a few more daring ones latching onto Mori’s hands as she scootched out from the table), but soon enough Mori was out on the mostly empty Tokyo side streets. A crescent moon hung low in the starless sky, its glow paled by the city lights.

Mori brushed back her bangs. Goddamn it was humid tonight. Even without the sun, the muggy, stagnant air was oppressively warm, and Mori was dripping with sweat after a mere ten minutes outside. Her preferred fashion– black, baggy, body-covering clothes– was roasting her in this heat. She quickly unzipped her jacket and tried to air out the nauseating funk cultivating under her arms (and under her massive cow tits, she was reluctant to admit), but it barely made a difference. She could still feel individual droplets of sweat trace down her body with worrying frequency, following the ample curves of her underboob and exposed tummy. She hadn’t worn socks either, so the steady squelch of her sweaty bare feet pressing into her sneakers was a constant companion during the walk.

She considered hailing a taxi, but quickly thought better of it. The poor driver would be hotboxed with her body odor, not to mention the massive sweat-stain her ass would leave in the seat. Oh well, it wasn’t much further to-

Grrggllle…

A sudden grumble from her belly gave her pause. Mori halted midstep and leaned against a vending machine, hand clutching instinctively at her stomach. All that beer and cheap meat was making its presence known as a swirling, churning mass of gaseous indigestion brewed in her guts, the vast majority of it headed south…

“Goddamn it,” Mori grumbled. Her farts after a long night of drinking were legendarily awful, and seemed endless once she got going. Just another reason she cut back on alcohol the past few years. She pushed off the vending machine and resumed her walk, though her steps were more timid and measured as to not unduly upset her stomach with too much movement. The bloated feeling increased with each block traveled, and the greasy sheen of sweat coating her body grew thicker in response to her exertion and nervousness.

And as much as she would have loved to release some of the bubbling gastric pressure, she had no doubt her cheek-clapping farts would echo through the silent streets like a grenade. So she firmly clenched her huge pale asscheeks and carried on, taking solace that she would soon be in the privacy and modesty of her own home.


Mori’s journey wrapped up without incident (aside from a couple hearty belches Mori covered with the back of her fist.) Now, in front of her door, there was one last obstacle to a peaceful night in her bed, the same obstacle that always gave her a moment of hesitation before turning the handle– Gigi.

Mori had dragged her feet during the last few blocks to come back as late as possible, hoping her mischievous roommate would simply be asleep upon her return. Something told her it wouldn’t be so easy.

Mori gulped, turned her key, and slowly creaked open the door…

The lights were off. Gigi was in the living room’s recliner, a single reading lamp lit up at her side to battle the surrounding darkness. In her hands was a thick book whose title was unreadable. “Oh! Why hello, Ms. Mori Calliope. Fancy meeting you here.” Gigi said.

Mori narrowed her eyes. Okay, she’s definitely doing a bit, Mori thought. But it didn’t matter as long as she could get to her room and dive into bed. She shuffled inside, suppressing yet another burp, and flicked on the lights. “Yeah. Late night with the girls. You know how it is.”

“Indeed.” Gigi nodded and returned to her book.

Mori sidled cautiously around the perimeter of the living room, as though Gigi might rear up and snap at her like a cobra. Yet the gremlin remained motionless, idly flipping through whatever she was reading with a look of intense concentration.

At her bedroom door, Mori gave one last look back, saw nothing suspicious, and allowed herself to relax. She grabbed the handle.

Click.

Click click click.

The handle didn’t move. Broken? No, it was locked. Something small and yellow tugged at her peripheral vision. A little Grem slid out from under her door frame, slippery and amorphous as the wax in a lava lamp. A silver key gleamed within its toothless maw.

Mori slowly turned. Gigi was standing in the hallway, a knowing grin plastered wide across her lips. “Hmm? Having some trouble with your door, are we?”

“Gigi, dude, not now. I’m exhausted. Can we do…whatever this is tomorrow?”

“Ah, but there is no tomorrow,” Gigi said, sauntering towards Mori with all the showy bravado of a detective that has sussed out the murderer. “I’m heading back home after tonight, remember?”

Mori slumped her shoulders. Of course Gigi’s final gambit would come the night before her departure. Though the question felt rhetorical, Mori had to ask: “What do you want?”

“Please, sit on my face!” Gigi said. Her tone was back to normal now that the trap had been sprung. “Just one hour! It’ll be over before you know it!”

The energy to refuse just wasn’t there. All the stress and alcohol and physical exhaustion left Mori without words. She threw up her hands in defeat. “Fuckin’...sure. Yeah. Let’s do it. You owe me a ton of Umamusume pulls for this, though.”

“Yay!” Gigi leapt into the air, then scampered off to the living room.

With obvious reluctance, Mori followed. Gigi was already sitting on the floor, her head resting back against the seat of the overstuffed leather recliner.

“I have a Grem keeping watch over there,” Gigi said, pointing to the little lizard-thing curled up above the entertainment center. “I’ve given strict instructions not to hand over the key unless you’re here for sixty straight minutes!” Gigi seemed rather pleased with the contingencies of her scheme, and she and the Grem gave each other a little thumbs up.

Mori checked the clock on her phone. 12:06. She wouldn't be getting shut-eye until 1:06 at the earliest. Awesome. “Fine,” Mori said, clearly tired and annoyed. “One hour it is.” She shrugged off her jacket and tossed it to the floor. With her sweltering pits now exposed, the sharp smell of her body odor was free to fill the room.

Mori stepped over and straddled Gigi’s body. Hesitantly, she turned around and let her enormous ass cast a grave shadow over Gigi’s face. Even the immense tightness of her pants couldn’t stop the subtle wobble of Mori’s giant caked-up cheeks as she shuffled her feet and got into position.

“W-whoa!” Gigi squeaked. For once she didn't have a snappy, perverted quip. Her thoughts were mostly focused on calculating if one of Mori’s cheeks was bigger than her head.

Mori started to bend her knees, then, after a moment of consideration, reached down and casually unzipped her pants; she’d been dying to peel those things off since midafternoon when her thick, sweaty thighs started sticking to them like a second skin. As the zipper came down, a thick jungle of pink pubes spilled out from the edges of her racy black underwear, further saturating the air with pent up, heady feminine musk. The tales of Mori being “hairless below the eyebrows” were greatly exaggerated, it seemed.

Now for the hard part.

“Ugh, damn it! C’mon!” The rest of Mori’s skintight pants weren’t budging. Not with those thunder thighs and extra-wide Texan hips straining the limits of her waistband. It had taken her almost three minutes to stuff her fat reaper ass into those pants earlier that morning, she recalled, so taking them off would take a similar level of effort. This was a constant problem when wrangling her plus-sized booty into clothes designed for a Japanese clientele.

Mori stubbornly hopped in place while her hands worked to yank down her pants. Each bounce lightly clapped her mountainous cheeks together and shimmied her pants a half-inch lower, letting more and more of her pale, doughy, sweat-slathered ass fat spill over the waistband.

Gigi watched every movement in uncharacteristic silence, paralyzed with both lust and the first inklings of apprehension. Mori's ass was truly gigantic, especially when viewed from below where most of the reaper’s body was obscured behind the imposing, jiggling shelf of her booty. Gigi started to entertain very reasonable concerns about how she was supposed to even breathe under all of that. Maybe an hour was a little overzealous…

Finally, Mori’s ass was liberated from the tyranny of her pants. The Rapping Reaper of EN was now basically bottomless except for the micro thong buried somewhere deep within her sweaty crack. The room’s air felt viciously cool against the sweltering surface of her cheeks.

Mori looked over her shoulder with a huff, piercing red eyes fixing Gigi’s face with annoyed, sleep-deprived ire. She blew back her pink bangs, then brought both hands down upon her plump cheeks with a loud smack, sending those twin fatty mounds into a heavy ripple. A small shower of sweat shook off her enormous cheeks and plinked against Gigi’s face, two droplets landing dangerously close to her nostrils.

With a grunt, Mori sunk her hands into the heft of her buttocks to spread her heavy, sweat-dripping asscheeks apart, revealing the unbelievably musky center of the awful swamp ass she’d been stewing in for the past sixteen hours, along with some oily, wiry hairs encircling her asshole. Gigi felt an unnerving warmth pour down over her face alongside the brain-melting stench wafting out from deep within that chasm of greasy crack sweat and anal musk.

Once Mori was properly aligned and the back of her knees hit the chair, she simply dropped her hips.

SLAP!

The sound of Mori’s gigantic cheeks slamming down on Gigi’s face briefly filled the room, a meaty collision of flesh meeting flesh, Mori’s buttocks quaking and wobbling like pudding for a full second after impact. Poor Gigi’s head (along with her shoulders and some of her torso) was piledriven deep into the chair’s cushioning under Mori’s weight, leaving only a few sorry strands of auburn hair snaking out from the edges of the reaper’s thick cheeks.

Mrrrff! Mrrrrgh!” Gigi whimpered. Her arms automatically shot up and slapped against Mori’s bare thick thighs, hoping to get the message across that she needed at least a little bit of breathing room.

“Annnd you’re already groping me. Huge surprise.” Mori sighed and leaned way back in her seat until she felt her shoulders hit the backrest, hearing both the chair and the unfortunate girl beneath her butt groan miserably from the increased weight. She looked down at her thunder thighs that were now slightly spread, smirking at how a single one nearly eclipsed Gigi’s torso. “Huh. This actually isn’t half bad.” Mori said, testing the sensation and support of her new chair with a little bounce. “Better than my debut set-up, at least.”

Sho heevy,” Gigi mewled, though her words were completely muffled under so many unforgiving pounds of reaper ass. “Cahn’t breashe...”

Ignoring whatever her seat was mumbling, Mori reached down to the pants pooled at her ankles and pulled out her phone. An hour of doomscrolling through her social media feeds was the usual pre-bedtime ritual anyway. “Fifty-nine minutes to go,” Mori muttered, vigorously grinding her hips from side to side for a few seconds. “And try to keep your hands to yourself from now on, ‘kay?”

For once, groping Mori was the last thing on Gigi’s mind. Gigi tried in vain to turn her head to either side, anything to take back some semblance of breathable air, but her face remained scrunched up and wedged deep in Mori’s ass. Her meager struggles succeeded only in smearing around the copious layers of buttsweat blanketing her face. Every shuddering breath pulled in a putrid lungful of thick ass musk from the sweltering depths of Mori’s crack, pearls of sweat sliding around her lips. Her world was dark, hot, and heavily muffled– only the sound of Mori humming to herself or laughing at some of the other talents’ posts were able to reach her ears.

Above, Mori had her own inconveniences to deal with. Since her fat pale buttcheeks were large enough to easily spill over the sides of Gigi’s head and touch the seat, they had a habit of stubbornly sticking to the damp leather. Like trying to get off a metal bench under an intense summer sun, it was a noisy and somewhat irritating affair to pull her slick skin free whenever her hips shifted. Mori eventually learned to sit still, letting Gigi stew in the heat and stench generated under her butt without a single twitch of movement. Visible puddles of sweat quickly built up around her gravid buttocks, constantly renewed by the streams of perspiration careening down the rest of her curvaceous body like tributaries running into the sea.

Ten minutes into a zoned-out state of scrolling and dolling out Likes to fanart, an angry rumble twisted Mori’s guts. Right. She was still loaded way past capacity with the dozens of awful beer farts she never had a chance to address. Her first instinct was to get up and nuke the toilet like usual, but she hesitated. The Grem sentry was still there, keeping watch, the key to her salvation in his dopey mouth. Getting up now would just restart the clock, and who knows how many times Mori would have to get up before her stomach settled down?

In that case…

Mori placed her phone atop her thigh, tenderly massaging her bloated, gurgling belly. “Yo, Gigi? I had a ton of kabobs and beer with the girls earlier, and it’s not really agreeing with my stomach. Usually I’d get up and take care of this in the bathroom, but…‘sixty straight minutes’ and all that. So, uh,” Mori leaned ever so slightly onto her right cheek. “Sorry. I guess?”

BBRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPTT!!

A wet, bassy fart pounded out of Mori’s asshole into Gigi’s face. Thick, hot, and utterly rancid, the reaper’s backed-up gas instantly drowned out Gigi’s whimpering, bathing her features from chin to brow in a dense miasma of nose-burning stench. The cloying odor of spoiled milk left out in the sun, digested spices, and rotten meat filled Gigi’s nostrils like an olfactory flashbang, and that was only with a half-second whiff.

God, I needed that,” Mori moaned, either oblivious or uncaring to how sultry that admission sounded. She relaxed back into her seat with a smile, Gigi’s face feeling noticeably warmer under her cheeks now that there was a hot, putrid smog of gas percolating. The relief on Mori’s face quickly faded as another, angrier cramp doubled her over. “Damn it…” Mori frowned and leaned to the left this time, grunting as she pushed out another sputtering, cheek-clapping rumbler that sounded disgustingly wet, as though she were letting it rip into a bathtub. She felt the force of her massive, thunderous farts vibrate the damn armrest! “Yep, okay, beer is off the menu for the rest of the year,” Mori groaned as she wiped her sweaty brow. “I swear, they didn’t used to be this bad…”

On the plus side, Mori was spared from the stench of her own emissions. And thank God for that, because they were exceedingly ripe tonight, bolstered by the stress of the workweek and the gastric turmoil brought on by ten beers too many sloshing around in her stomach. The only barometer she had for how awful the smell was came from the furious writhing of the girl beneath her. Gigi bucked and strained with all her might, heels digging furrows into the carpet, but never came close to bucking Mori off her; only slightly shaking the reaper’s fat thighs.

After adjusting her ponytail, Mori returned to her phone. She lazily scratched her crotch, just outside the fringes of her sweaty, untamed bush (the serious camel toe she was sporting didn’t seem to bother her). It was reassuring to know whatever she pushed out tonight would be muffled and summarily sucked down by Gigi’s nose or mouth, so she stopped holding back. A long, sloppy series of low-pitched braps erupted into her tortured seat every few minutes with violent, chair-shaking force, adding another avalanche of shitstink to the fray. Mori’s cheeks visibly quaked on each release as the gas fought through their blubbery sweat-slick mass to crash against Gigi’s face and shock the smaller girl awake from her oxygen-deprived stupor.

However, blasting so many bubbly farts without ever getting up to air things out developed one hell of an itch. Mori didn't dare stand up or even raise her hips for risk of contaminating the room, so she instead leaned forward and ground her fat ass into the seat, dragging the putrid, sweat-damp, fart-soaked thong plastered over her asshole across Gigi’s nose over and over, scrubbing every fleck of rancid fart residue into the gremlin’s unguarded nostrils.

After a few minutes of thorough scrubbing while Gigi meekly begged for mercy, Mori paused. Something big was bullying its way through her guts, and she wanted to make extra sure it wouldn’t seep out. She parked her asshole directly over Gigi’s nose, both nostrils now forcibly upturned and buried deadcenter in the swampy rim of Mori’s anal wrinkles. Mori gripped both armrests to bear down with even more weight, grit her teeth, and pushed.

BBBBBRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPMMMMMMMTTT!!!

A five-second fart thundered straight up Gigi’s nose, its explosive volume largely muffled under so many pounds of sweaty PAWG assmeat, sounding like a foghorn blaring under a foot of mud. The smell was so immediate, so intense that Gigi’s consciousness slipped away for a few merciful seconds before dragging her back into reality. She retched as the torrent of gas hit the back of her throat and diffused across her tongue, fully saturating her airways in the reek of Mori’s beefy, beer-fueled braps.

Nnngh!” Mori grunted as another long, wet fart immediately followed that brutal nostril-fumigation. There was too much for one gremlin to handle; the excess gas quickly billowed over Gigi’s face and bubbled out from under Mori’s heavy asscheeks, sending little sprays of sweat against the chair like a tiny jacuzzi. For the first time that night, the rancid gas spewing from Mori’s asshole was free to permeate the outside world.

Jesus.” Mori waved her hand in front of her face as the first whiff hit her nose. “That’s-” She ducked her head into the crook of her arm and coughed. “-that’s really bad. Oh man.” There was a trip she’d taken with Bae and IRyS where they had to share a single toilet at a cheap motel, and the aftermath of that bathroom blowout was still mild compared to what just assaulted her nose. Mori winced as a few smaller farts squeaked out, those ones fortunately weak enough to stay trapped under her buttocks. She’d have to be careful from now on unless she wanted to turn her home into a biohazard. Mori clenched her cheeks in an attempt to moderate her “output”, applying more pressure to Gigi’s skull and drawing another small whimper.

And while Mori had already ripped enough ass to clear any room in Tokyo, the ominous rumbling in her belly let Mori (and more importantly, Gigi) know that the worst was yet to come.


Forty minutes passed. Mori was still on her phone, bantering with some of the Justice girls, occasionally gritting her teeth when another painful stomach cramp forced a salvo of sloppy braps into her fart cushion. The air around Mori’s chair was tinged with the lingering farts Gigi couldn’t physically filter in time. Gigi no longer had the strength to bat at Mori’s thighs.

The situation under Mori’s cheeks had gone from bad to worse. The thick, greasy sweat pouring off Mori’s massive ass turned every square inch of her seat into a swampy, foul-smelling mire. The fancy leather was stained so deeply that its discoloration would never fully fade. Gigi’s bangs were disheveled and matted to her slick forehead, her expression despondent and practically inebriated with Mori’s horrid gas. To take even a single breath was to drink deep of that horribly tainted, fart-thickened air.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Mori's phone rang.

“Yo. What’s up, Kronster?” Mori said, hoping the complaints of the girl buried under her sweaty ass would remain inaudible.

“Oh, you know, just checking in~.” Kronii still sounded pretty drunk. “Ririka said you got really plastered before walking out tonight, so I wanted to make sure you didn't end up in a ditch or something.”

“Yeah, no, it’s all good here. I just needed some-” Mori winced as her backside suddenly erupted with a low, rumbling fart with enough force to jiggle her thighs. “Ahh…some fresh air and water. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, text me tomorrow morning when you get up. I wanna do some karaoke with you and IRyS. Oh, and Gigi, too!” Kronii paused. “Speaking of, have you seen her at all tonight? She usually texts me by now.”

Mori hit the mute button on her phone right before brutalizing her seat with an incredibly loud, chair-staining fart, making sure to press down with her weight until Gigi finished gagging. Mori cleared her throat and unmuted. “Uh, y-yeah, she’s not feeling well, though. She’s in bed right now, probably a cold or something.”

“Mmm, okay, tell her to get better soon! I’m gonna-” Kronii hiccuped cutely. “I’m gonna go to bed, too, I guess. Good night~.”

“Sounds good. Night, Kronii.”

Mori hung up and looked down at her belly. There was still a good amount of bloat to unload, and Mori knew from experience they would be the worst. Real wallpaper-peeling, sinus-destroyers.

“Hey, Gigi,” Mori said. “We got like three minutes left, and I’m just about done here. Ganbatte, yeah?”

Shifting her hips, Mori expertly positioned her asshole over Gigi’s open mouth. Somehow the thoroughly tortured thong she was wearing hadn’t torn apart after tanking so many dozens of reaper farts.

Mori leaned forward a bit, hands clenched tight into fist upon her knees, and exhaled.

BBLLLRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMPPPPPSSSHHHH!!!
PPRRRRRRBBBBT!!!

Her fat cheeks wobbled and clapped against one another as she let loose. A horrid torrent of thick, raunchy gas split by the thin barrier of her sweat-soaked thong slammed into the back of Gigi’s throat and filled her mouth to capacity in seconds. Mori grunted and pushed out another sloppy, three-second rumbler, ensuring the entirety of Gigi’s poor tongue was simmering with her farts.

Gigi tried to cry out, but her screams were shoved right back down her throat under the heavy barrage of gas. Though she’d been snorting Mori’s farts all night, these were on another level after brewing in the awful depths of her digestive tract all night and most of the day, multiplying the spicy, meaty stench tenfold. A brain-searing odor that forced tears from Gigi’s eyes and sent her into a horrible fit of retching.

Panting like she’d just finished a 3D live, Mori wiped her forehead and ground her hips down, any concern for Gigi’s wellbeing a distant second compared to easing her stomach cramps. She didn’t even wait for Gigi to make a decision about the rest of the gas still brimming within her mouth– Gigi was going to swallow her farts.

Three more thunderous braps pounded into Gigi’s open maw, forcing the excess of death-reeking gas down Gigi’s tiny gullet in a series of audible, pained gulps, visibly bulging her throat on the way down. Mori could feel the end of her indigestion on the horizon, a tangible relief for the angry swell of her bloated stomach that had been plaguing her since that first plate of steaming, questionable kabobs.

Mori grunted with near-orgasmic relief as a final, cheek-clapping fart spluttered from her asshole, splashing a thick spray of crack sweat onto Gigi’s tongue, forcing her to gargle Mori’s greasy ass sweat before loudly gulping down her rancid farts. It tapered into a lengthy, sputtering hiss as the last of Mori’s gas filtered through her thong and stained Gigi’s tenderized tastebuds with a reek that would take weeks of mouthwash to cleanse.

A queer silence took the room, save for Mori’s heavy breathing.

“Whew!” Mori laughed. Her spirits were way higher now that her “tummy hort” had been taken care of. She looked over her shoulder, once again impressed with how much of the chair was filled with the sheer mass of her pale bubble butt. “Uh…sorry about those last ones, my dude.” Mori said, rubbing the back of her head. “I got a little carried away.”

Mori tried to stand up. The egregious amount of butt sweat functionally glued her fat ass to the seat, so she needed a few extra moments of wriggling and grinding her crack into Gigi’s unresponsive face before making any headway. With a noisy schlurp not unlike velcro, Mori’s dumptruck ass finally began peeling free of the chair, leaving a wide, dark, unmistakable sweat stain wherever her skin had made contact. Gigi’s poor face remained stuck inside Mori’s swampy asscrack for a few seconds before abruptly sliding free and dropping back down to the cratered seat.

And without Mori’s massive thighs and butt to act as a barrier, the diabolical stench that had been trapped under there immediately permeated the room. Mori held both hands up to her face to filter the smell while she examined the aftermath.

Gigi was a mess. At first glance, she looked like she’d gotten worked over by some hired muscle after failing to repay a debt. Her carefully applied makeup had been smeared and pulverized by Mori’s ass sweat, then wiped almost clean from the grinding of her hips. Her lightless irises peered from behind half-lidden eyes, surrounded by faint splotches of mascara. Her slick, flushed face and sweat-soaked hair looked like she’d stuck her head in a washing machine or gotten waterboarded in a river. Was she even breathing..?

In a sudden fit of worry, Mori knelt down and pressed her thumb to Gigi’s wrist. …There was a pulse! Faint, but present.

Mori blushed and adjusted her thong. This was the closest she’d come to actually killing someone since accepting the role as Grim Reaper, and it was using nothing more than her eye-watering farts. Death-sensei would have thrown such a fit…

Gigi coughed weakly. Groaning, she tilted her head upwards to face Mori (or more accurately, face the underside of Mori’s massive udders). It looked like it took all her strength, but Gigi managed to open her mouth: “D-damn, girl, you fart with that ass?”

Mori rolled her eyes. If Gigi was well enough to drop cringe one-liners like that, there was no need to worry about her recovery. “Despite everything, I’m glad to see you alive and well, Gigi. I’m going to bed. Hit me up when we need to head over to the airport.”

Gigi responded with a shaky thumbs-up.

Mori collected her pants from the floor, grateful she didn’t have to spend another five minutes struggling to put them on, and simply carried them in hand, walking out of the room while her meaty PAWG cheeks slammed together on every step. She didn’t put it past Gigi to try something en route to the airport, (groping her on the train was an easy avenue), but that was a problem for another day.

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Pub: 12 Sep 2025 16:34 UTC

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