The Fart of Bumthing Bootiful
One Foot Tall Fiancé
chapter 34
by
copier
· original author:
worstfailure
This was it. Your last chance. Your lungs were as full of air as they could be in your two-dimensional state, and with all the strength you could muster, you bellowed your final cry for salvation!
"H--"PPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTT TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
A maelstrom of flatulence washed over you, muting your cry for help with its overwhelming sound and fury. From your perspective it was like your aunt had detonated a nuke on top of you. But from your mother's it was just a regular--if abnormally loud and smelly--fart. Either way, it was enough to make her recoil away from Tara's ass and back to her side of the couch.
"What the hell, Tara?!" your mother asked, gagging.
Tara wiped some sweat off her forehead and looked uneasily at her sister, afraid an errant burst of gas might've destroyed all her hard work.
"Um," she said with a nervous smile, "I think that was Jake saying goodbye."
The silence lingered for a second. But only a second. The smell was still ripe in the air as your mother laughed. It was once and she tried to pass it off as a cough, but Tara caught it, even as her sister set her face into a frown. Her sister had always been prone to laughter, especially when drunk. It seemed like now was no exception, even if she was trying to treat it otherwise.
"I'm being serious!"
Tara nodded solemnly. "You're right. I won't interrupt again. This is no times for jokes." She turned around and stuck out her butt. "Go ahead and keep telling my ass you love it."
Your mother let out another involuntary laugh. She slapped her hands over her mouth and forced herself to stay serious. "Damn it, Tara! This is important!"
"Don't tell me," Tara said, then pointed at her rump. "Tell the little man living in my ass."
At this, your mother couldn't help herself. She bust out into a fit of giggles.
"What's so funny?" Tara asked, egging her on and earning more laughter. "This is a very serious occasion. Don't you want to say goodbye to your son? Would it help if I answered for him?"
Tara placed a hand on each cheek and start mashing them together as she spoke in a helium voice she'd used in the past to imitate you. "Mama, don't be bummed! I'm living my butt-st life!" Your mother laughed louder. "I always wanted to take a crack at this! Don't ass-ume otherwise!" And louder. "Just put those sad feelings behind you, and you'll feel as cheeky as me!" Louder! "Auntie doesn't like to toot her own horn, but I'm living in the most bootiful place on earth! In fact, I can say with certainty, that living with Aunt Tara will be a nonstop gas!"
BBBBBRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!
Tara clenched her cramping stomach and let loose a smaller, but still loud and smelly, fart. For you, it was torture. For your mother, it was comedy gold. She was hugging her knees as she laughed on the couch, tears leaking from her eyes.
"No more! No more!" she begged. "You know I've always hated your puns!"
"There's the happy sister I know!" Tara said, putting an end to her show and sitting back down next your mom.
It took another minute for your mother to recover, but when she was done she was smiling.
"Thanks, Tara," she said. "I don't think I ever would've been strong enough to get through this without you. I'm lucky to have such a good sister, and Jake is lucky to have an aunt as loving as you."
"I know," Tara said smugly.
"I just can't believe I'll never see him again," your mother said sadly.
"There, there," Tara said, stroking her hair. "It'll get easier with time. He's in a butt-er place now."
Your mother chuckled again then rested her head on her sister's shoulder. Tara kept up the act of a strong big sister, but on the inside she was dancing with joy. Her final obstacle had been overcome. Her sister had given in to her persuasion just like Tara knew she would. The twerp truly belonged to her ass, now and forever.
Meanwhile, inside Tara's ass, all hope really was lost. Your last, best hope for freedom was snuffed out by a fart. Any lingering hope that your mother might get close again ended when Tara started making her terrible puns. You couldn't believe your ears. Your own mother was laughing at you! Laughing about the eternal torment that awaited you! In fact, she didn't think it was torment at all! She thought you actually enjoyed this! That you liked being flattened into a smear, that you liked being soaked with ass sweat and breathing in farts. She'd accepted every word your aunt said with minimal resistance and a minute of lowbrow comedy was enough to let her sister keep you forever! How could she do this to you?!
Two women sat on the couch in your old house. One of them was a mother who sat in quiet grief over the son she lost, yet vowing to herself to uphold his last request and not let her despair dominate her life. The other was an aunt who sat in euphoric triumph, anticipating the lifetime of happiness that awaited her now that she had achieved her dream in reducing her nephew to her permanent butt toy. And as for the butt toy in question? Nobody seemed to care what he thought anymore. In the dark, crushing, sweltering, reeking confines of his prison, he reflected that all his hopes and dreams had been destroyed, all his efforts reduced to nothing. The woman that he loved would one day move on, fall in love and marry someone else. The woman who raised him would do her best to honor "his" wishes by abandoning him and suppressing her sadness, perhaps one day forgetting him entirely. Both women had been manipulated by your most hated enemy, the very same woman who now had you right where she always wanted you. Every day she spent living her ultimate fantasy, you would be living your worst nightmare. There was no escape for you, no lifetime of happiness, no future outside the confines of your meaty prison. Your entire existence would be reduced to a series of never-ending torments as you were forevermore trapped in the foul end of your Aunt Tara.
BBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP!
"God damn it, Tara!" your mother said, her grief no match for the stench of your aunt's flatulence.
Tara patted her full belly unconcerned. "You ordered the wings, you new the risks."
Your mother waved the air in front of her nose and rolled her eyes. Then she asked.
"So, what now?"
"H--"PPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTT TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!
A maelstrom of flatulence washed over you, muting your cry for help with its overwhelming sound and fury. From your perspective it was like your aunt had detonated a nuke on top of you. But from your mother's it was just a regular--if abnormally loud and smelly--fart. Either way, it was enough to make her recoil away from Tara's ass and back to her side of the couch.
"What the hell, Tara?!" your mother asked, gagging.
Tara wiped some sweat off her forehead and looked uneasily at her sister, afraid an errant burst of gas might've destroyed all her hard work.
"Um," she said with a nervous smile, "I think that was Jake saying goodbye."
The silence lingered for a second. But only a second. The smell was still ripe in the air as your mother laughed. It was once and she tried to pass it off as a cough, but Tara caught it, even as her sister set her face into a frown. Her sister had always been prone to laughter, especially when drunk. It seemed like now was no exception, even if she was trying to treat it otherwise.
"I'm being serious!"
Tara nodded solemnly. "You're right. I won't interrupt again. This is no times for jokes." She turned around and stuck out her butt. "Go ahead and keep telling my ass you love it."
Your mother let out another involuntary laugh. She slapped her hands over her mouth and forced herself to stay serious. "Damn it, Tara! This is important!"
"Don't tell me," Tara said, then pointed at her rump. "Tell the little man living in my ass."
At this, your mother couldn't help herself. She bust out into a fit of giggles.
"What's so funny?" Tara asked, egging her on and earning more laughter. "This is a very serious occasion. Don't you want to say goodbye to your son? Would it help if I answered for him?"
Tara placed a hand on each cheek and start mashing them together as she spoke in a helium voice she'd used in the past to imitate you. "Mama, don't be bummed! I'm living my butt-st life!" Your mother laughed louder. "I always wanted to take a crack at this! Don't ass-ume otherwise!" And louder. "Just put those sad feelings behind you, and you'll feel as cheeky as me!" Louder! "Auntie doesn't like to toot her own horn, but I'm living in the most bootiful place on earth! In fact, I can say with certainty, that living with Aunt Tara will be a nonstop gas!"
BBBBBRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!
Tara clenched her cramping stomach and let loose a smaller, but still loud and smelly, fart. For you, it was torture. For your mother, it was comedy gold. She was hugging her knees as she laughed on the couch, tears leaking from her eyes.
"No more! No more!" she begged. "You know I've always hated your puns!"
"There's the happy sister I know!" Tara said, putting an end to her show and sitting back down next your mom.
It took another minute for your mother to recover, but when she was done she was smiling.
"Thanks, Tara," she said. "I don't think I ever would've been strong enough to get through this without you. I'm lucky to have such a good sister, and Jake is lucky to have an aunt as loving as you."
"I know," Tara said smugly.
"I just can't believe I'll never see him again," your mother said sadly.
"There, there," Tara said, stroking her hair. "It'll get easier with time. He's in a butt-er place now."
Your mother chuckled again then rested her head on her sister's shoulder. Tara kept up the act of a strong big sister, but on the inside she was dancing with joy. Her final obstacle had been overcome. Her sister had given in to her persuasion just like Tara knew she would. The twerp truly belonged to her ass, now and forever.
Meanwhile, inside Tara's ass, all hope really was lost. Your last, best hope for freedom was snuffed out by a fart. Any lingering hope that your mother might get close again ended when Tara started making her terrible puns. You couldn't believe your ears. Your own mother was laughing at you! Laughing about the eternal torment that awaited you! In fact, she didn't think it was torment at all! She thought you actually enjoyed this! That you liked being flattened into a smear, that you liked being soaked with ass sweat and breathing in farts. She'd accepted every word your aunt said with minimal resistance and a minute of lowbrow comedy was enough to let her sister keep you forever! How could she do this to you?!
Two women sat on the couch in your old house. One of them was a mother who sat in quiet grief over the son she lost, yet vowing to herself to uphold his last request and not let her despair dominate her life. The other was an aunt who sat in euphoric triumph, anticipating the lifetime of happiness that awaited her now that she had achieved her dream in reducing her nephew to her permanent butt toy. And as for the butt toy in question? Nobody seemed to care what he thought anymore. In the dark, crushing, sweltering, reeking confines of his prison, he reflected that all his hopes and dreams had been destroyed, all his efforts reduced to nothing. The woman that he loved would one day move on, fall in love and marry someone else. The woman who raised him would do her best to honor "his" wishes by abandoning him and suppressing her sadness, perhaps one day forgetting him entirely. Both women had been manipulated by your most hated enemy, the very same woman who now had you right where she always wanted you. Every day she spent living her ultimate fantasy, you would be living your worst nightmare. There was no escape for you, no lifetime of happiness, no future outside the confines of your meaty prison. Your entire existence would be reduced to a series of never-ending torments as you were forevermore trapped in the foul end of your Aunt Tara.
BBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP!
"God damn it, Tara!" your mother said, her grief no match for the stench of your aunt's flatulence.
Tara patted her full belly unconcerned. "You ordered the wings, you new the risks."
Your mother waved the air in front of her nose and rolled her eyes. Then she asked.
"So, what now?"
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March 28, 2025
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