Gassy The Remote of Transformation chapter 22 by deleted_user

Brandon stared at the massive, steaming pile of shit that used to be Linda, his stick-thin body trembling with a mix of horror and guilt. The sentient turd mound quivered angrily, another wet chunk sliding off with a gross splat onto the carpet.

“Okay, okay, don’t panic,” Brandon muttered in his high-pitched whine. “I can fix this. I have to fix this.”

He pointed the remote at the glistening brown pile and the remote chirped. Blue light washed over the pile.

With a series of wet, disgusting squelching and sucking sounds, the shit began to reform. Chunks pulled back together, rising upward as flesh, skin, and clothes rapidly reappeared. In under ten seconds, Linda was standing there again — early-twenties blonde bombshell with massive perky DDs straining her torn blouse, tiny waist, and that heart-shaped ass barely contained by the shredded jeans.

She took a deep breath… then immediately clutched her stomach.

“Ugh… what the hell did you do, you bony little shit?” she growled in her gravelly voice, but there was a new edge to it. Her face twisted. “Feels like I just ate three-day-old gas station burritos…”

BRRRAAAPPP!

A loud, wet fart ripped out of her, echoing through the living room. The smell hit a second later — sharp, eggy, and unmistakably nasty.

Vince, who had been laughing, suddenly gagged and waved a hand in front of his face. “Jesus Christ, Mrs. H! That one had texture!”

Linda’s eyes widened in horror. “That wasn’t me— oh god, it was me.” Another gurgle came from her belly. She clenched, but it was no use.

PPPPFFFFFRRRRTTT!

A longer, bubbling fart escaped, making her thick ass cheeks wobble in the torn jeans. She looked mortified, but her cranky personality kicked in immediately. “This is your fault, Brandon! You turned me into a pile of shit and now my guts are all messed up! I feel like I’ve got IBS from hell. Every time I move it feels like I’m about to crop-dust the whole damn apartment!”

She took a cautious step and another wet fart slipped out — shorter but smellier. Her face turned red with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Paul groaned from the floor, slowly coming around. He sat up, blinking, then caught a whiff and immediately covered his nose. “What… what happened? Why does it smell like someone died in here?”

Brandon crossed his skinny arms, still annoyed at his own flat body but relieved Linda was human again. “I fixed you! You’re back to normal — well, mostly. The remote must’ve left some… side effects. You’re super gassy now. And it sounds like IBS. Sorry?”

Linda glared daggers at him, one hand on her rumbling belly. “Sorry? I’m walkin’ around with a butt that’s about to turn into a machine gun! Every time I breathe wrong it feels like another fart’s comin’ out. And they smell like death warmed over!”

BRAAAP!

Another loud one escaped, making her ass jiggle. She slapped a hand over her backside, mortified. “See?! This is bullshit! I want my old body back — the saggy one that didn’t try to gas the whole neighborhood!”

Vince was wiping tears from his eyes, still chuckling. “This is gold. Our landlady’s a walking whoopee cushion now. Hey, at least the tits and ass are back!”

Paul stood up shakily, still looking green. “We… we should probably open a window. And maybe not use the remote for a while…”

Linda’s stomach gurgled loudly again. She shot Brandon a death glare, clearly fighting the urge to let another one rip.