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Jennie Clark's Fart Sniffer Serving my Sister and Protecting the World I’m inside my sister’s bedroom late on a Friday evening, carefully folding her many pairs of panties on top of her meticulously made bed. Every piece of underwear I folded was part of a rainbow of wild colors: red silk, blue satin, lacy yellow thongs, a few black and silver G-strings, all haphazardly tossed into the drawer in no particular order. But white underwear was the most dominate piece, most pieces containing brown smearing skid marks right where her asshole would meet them. There were 30 pieces of undergarments, most of them big enough to fit around my sister’s shapely posterior, some of them a little too small but that didn’t matter to her. I folded them neatly, very neatly, there was a precise way of doing it too and I had it down pat. Opening up the barren drawer I placed each piece of undergarment in in a particular order that signified what was what. First the silk panties, then the blue satin, then the thongs, the G-strings and finally the underwear. My sister was never too particular about what pair of underwear she wears each day, but she was very anal in making sure that the color arrangement was correct. On the next level down were her shirts, again there was a variety, some low cut, some T-shirts, some long-sleeved and some tank-top. It didn’t matter what went there, only that it was folded neatly and arranged again with some great order. Following that were her ten bras, three yellow, two black, two red and three white. All of them size 34 D. No one would have imagined a girl like her having such lovely breasts, but my sister did. And her bras were arranged again in a neat order, one bra cup over the other, they all had to be the same size and all had to fit like a stack of cups. The next drawer down contained her shorts and pants. As I’ve pointed out they all had to be nice, neatly folded and cleaned so not to leave any remaining signs of contamination on them. It took me three hours to do my sister’s laundry and to do it in such great order. Doing her laundry wasn’t just some other chore, it was a calling, a profession, it was part of a larger sense in my world’s view of what was correct and decent in it. A sign of a truly devoted slave was to make sure that you understood all the nuisances of even the most demeaning tasks. At least by doing her laundry I had the privilege of touching the articles of clothing that would grace her queenly body each and every day. Cleaning the bedroom of a 17-year old on the high end of the autism spectrum was also a challenge worthy of only an obedient slave such as myself. The room didn’t just have to be clean; it had to be perfect, every day. The demands of serving my sister are high indeed and only a person like myself can handle the challenge. Her bed must be made with specific specifications. A marron-colored cover is folded in such a way that I could easily pass as the bed maker for the finest of hotels. The grey carpet is vacuumed in precise vacuum lines so that nothing seems out of order. Her laptop computer is closed, cleaned on the outside and arranged in the exact center of the desk. Her bookshelves are lined in alphabetical order so that she may find her desired book in quick detail. Sometimes she would pick one up and leave it on the ground, or a table or her bed. It would be my job to make sure that I placed it back in order. And when she would leave 15 books around in different locations of the room it would make the search a little harder. All worthy for serving such a special person. Despite everything about her she is incredibly smart, a high IQ and matched intelligence with all but the pure geniuses of the world. Her abilities were different from what most doctors had concluded for her. This meant that she needed an increasingly large number of books to fuel her growing intelligence. What was stunted was more her emotional and social skills, naturally she had very few friends. Her walls were white, a large world map and a large U.S. map were on two sides. A couple of drawings were located on opposite sides of her bedroom. One contained an exploding volcano with lava oozing out of the cone, the other a meadow in springtime with blooming flowers of different colors. Both were made by her and both were amazing paintings. Her closet featured a few more of these paintings for display on the wall, which she instructed me to put up on at different times at her whim. Whenever she was feeling like she’d like me to change the paintings. There were 20 or so paintings, all of them magnificent creations from the inside the complex mind of a girl still developing and all of them worthy for being part of an art exhibit at the local museum. She was afraid that such superior artwork would then garter attention in her direction and she wasn’t too big on having the spotlight on her. I finish polishing all the furniture in the building and applying a small amount of air freshener on the room. I sit down on her bed and look around with pride. This was the bedroom of a truly great person. One in a generation would a person like me get the chance to do such beautiful work for an intelligent person such as my sister. Once in a lifetime to you get the chance to truly find your purpose so quickly in your life that you are relieved to still have many years to experience it. It takes people many years to find the job they enjoy, many career opportunities and what not. For me it took until I was only 18 years old. Now 22 I find myself in my dream job, for life, as slave to my special sister Jennie. As I declared Jennie’s room cleaned for its master’s occupation I took a look at my phone, a cheap device that was featured only the basic stuff, as compared to my sister’s fancy iPhone7, a birthday gift to my master for her birthday, I noticed a news article just popped up. It mentioned news of a restaurant being evacuated due to a gas leak. It was meaningless to me at first but I soon began to wonder if there was any sort of connection to this and the fact that my sister was coming in a little late. Not that it mattered, she could arrive whenever she wanted, my family gave her great latitude, they were happy that she was just seeing her friend Jeremy in the first place. Part of it was because they were trying to mold her behavior so that she didn’t explode out of nowhere. Jennie’s temper was easily the worst of the family and when she really blew up she really blew up. Therefore, she was given free rein to most extents when it came to doing things in the house and in reality she was usually well behaved so it was earned on her part. Still, with her activity and behavior and my lack thereof she had become the most important person in the household that my parents look after and I gratefully serve. I live for the day when the household truly become Jennie’s. Only a goddess such as herself is worthy of absolute control over all of us as she has over me. I hear her loud obnoxious voice announce that she’s home with the door slammed and leave her bedroom immediately to greet her. “….and so she’s coming over tomorrow for us to hang out. I hope it’s not a problem for you.” Jennie said to our parents as they quickly shook their heads in agreement. She wasn’t much to have friends over so anytime she did it was treated like more of an occasion. I walked into find her standing there in the living room as she threw her backpack down on the floor, expecting me to pick it up and take it to her room. “Welcome back.” I addressed my sister. Jennie was hardly the looker, but that’s what made her charm different. She had long black hair that flowed on both sides of her head erratically down past her shoulders and a pair of black glasses that gave her that definite nerdy look. She was only a D cup in terms of breast size and her ass stood out a cool nine inches. Her 5’8 frame was slightly bigger than my own and her 165 pound weight was also heavier. She ate a ton and I ate little. Her faded blue jeans gave her butt some sort of coverage that made it stand out if in its own way. She wore a light red shirt that highlighted her very modest cleavage, which hid a golden pendent she was wearing as a necklace. She had all the natural parts to be a pretty attractive girl if she had any worry in the world to flaunt it. “Hey George. Take this for me.” She said as I picked up the backpack, filled with three full-sized textbooks and some other items of hers. I loved the tone of her voice, something that helped add to the unusual nature of our relationship. Her voice was deeper in tone and more erratic, while she spoke sentences okay, after years of developing proper speech patterns, her tone of voice shifted from word to word to make it really stand out. “So where did you and Jeremy head off too?” Our mother asked Jennie. “Taco Bell….speaking of which….” Jennie lifted her right leg and casually pushed out a thick bubbly fart out of her ass. BBBBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmppppppppffffffffffffftttttttttttt!!!!!! For eight long seconds my sister pushed out what could only be described as an “after-school” fart. These farts were the beginnings of a release of pent up flatus within her. This fart in particular was super loaded with the kind of wet bubbly bass that made for all the best kinds of loud farts. She stood there with a small smile on her face as she felt her belly push down with the release of this ungodly smelly fart. The aroma filling up the living room was livid, filled with intense dosages of sulfur that made up the stinkiest of fart smells. For my sister though it was sadly a very pedestrian fart, stinking up the entire living room in seconds and soon finding its way around most of the house. Jennie had a farting problem, a MAJOR FARTING PROBLEM! The smell in our house was dreadful, reeking of the most pungent, puke-inducing and garbage-stinking gas ever conceived by man, or a woman in this case. It is in fact the absolute truth that my sister has the deadliest farts ever! The aroma is distinct, it’s garbage-smelling, a mixture of eggs and shit plus some really potent chemicals, and the aroma is constant and it seems that of all the people in the world, only she is capable of producing it. As for the power and sound of her farts, she rips cord with the best of them. At the dinner table, in line at the store, in the car, at school, wherever she damn well pleases, she’ll let er rip, it’s no holds barred. My sister is the best farter in the world, and being her slave it’s hard to avoid the amazing power of Jennie cutting some seriously smelly cheese. Her powerful gas is all the byproduct of her having two and a half stomachs, that’s right two and a half. Actually it’s more two normal-sized stomachs and one small sized one. Something happened with my mother when she was pregnant with Jennie and my sister developed this defect. Whatever it was, she came out with a digestive system that was beyond comprehension by most people. Which is why she eats a ton, far more than she even needs to. Her metabolism is super high, off the charts actually, so she would need to eat a lot to maintain. It was only a shame that she was not the most active girl so all that energy goes to waste against someone who might stay home more often. In any case, she releases her energy the only way she can, by farting. “Well that was cool. Jeremy bet me that I couldn’t eat ten bean burritos at Taco Bell.” Jennie said as the smell of truly toxic flatus continued to fill the living room. “Did you?” Mother asked. “Nope. I ate twenty.” She said as she casually pushed out another couple of short wet farts as she walked into the kitchen, I followed her in the wave of her gaseous fog. PPhhhbbbbrrttttt!!!! BBBBooorrrpppptt!!!!! Inside the kitchen Jennie walked over to the counter and opened up the counter to pull out a family-sized can of baked beans. She took the can over to the can-opener, which had seen great usage over the years and began to open the can, filling the kitchen briefly with the smell of baked beans. I went into the refrigerator to take out the glass of protein shake that I had made for her. PPPPPPPhhhhhooooooooooorrrrrrrrrttttttttttttt!!!!! Another long wet fart went out from her as she looked and saw that I was setting the table for her, laying down a bowl and placing the glass there next for her. She took the can and poured the contents of the beans into it, and threw the can away; making the sound of aluminum hitting aluminum, as you see this was the third can of beans she had eaten today. My sister loved baked beans more than absolutely anything in the world and on top of all of that, she ate like there was no tomorrow. You wouldn’t have known that with her frame, she had a modest weight, good sized arms and legs and a small belly but not fat in any way. She had an incredible metabolism that gave her an appetite that would impress just about anyone. I’m convinced that it’s the same thing that Joey Chestnut has when he wins those hot dog eating contests. Only with my sister it’s beans, lots and lots of beans. There’s a whole cabinet filled with them, the same kind of brand, the same amount. On average she eats five cans a day, on really good days she’ll eat eight. And all of those beans, a byproduct of her being a picky eater years ago, has fueled her farts into the kind of explosive power that should be feared by all around the world today. She doesn’t even need the beans to fuel her gas anymore; they just add more kindling to the fire. Of course she does eat other food items as well, she just eats a lot and uses the bathroom one time each evening and when that time comes you do not come anywhere near the bathroom for the next hour. A girl like Jennie using the bathroom with her rambunctious diet is quite possibly the worst place for any human on the planet when she’s taking a crap. And I’m with her a lot in there, the things I do for my master. On top of all of that, I’ve got her addicted to protein shakes, of a chocolate variety. Naturally there was been a dramatic uptick in my sister’s gassiness since getting her started on them, but since she doesn’t work out a whole lot there had to be something to build some of her muscles. We all need a master who’s strong. Her lack of social contact is on display at the table as she sits there eating the beans and drinking the shake in silence, well except for the farting. PPPPPhhhhhooorrrpppppttttttttt!!!!! Like clockwork, she lifts a cheek and pushes out a quick dirty fart onto the wooden seat. I stand back there against the sink as I watch over her, she’s fine with it thankfully and I get to enjoy more of her gas. On a night like today she’ll likely eat two more cans of beans and with all that Taco Bell in her, you have a good idea for how volatile her bowels would be. Naturally I am a lover of my sister’s farts. This may take some time to get used to and explain but for as long as I could start smelling and appreciating them I have been an admirer of my Jennie’s flatulence. What was once a girl’s love of beans and her developing digestive system has turned her into a world-class farter and more there’s no stopping the wheels from turning a typical night with my sister into an orchestra of the greatest rips of ass ever. But there was another reason I was in here. It was just in case, of what you may ask?” “I gotta fart.” She asked. And like a dog I fell onto my knees and nestled my nose right by her jean-cladded ass. Already it stunk of her nasty gas, she was about to triple the potency. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppp All her farts before, those weren’t farts. This was a true fart, a real Jennie fart. This one could be heard throughout the house, it shook the chair, it even shook the floor from which I was seated, this was the baked beans coming together with the Taco Bell to fuel my sister with some larger blasts of gas. My sister released house-rattling farts daily, it was just part of her and we knew there was no upsetting the balance, this was almost one of those, it was at the very least kitchen-rattling, a thundering fart against the seat that pushed forth a supercharged stream of hot and putrid smelling my gas straight into my nose. I did my part and smelled it all up. One breath after another, I inhaled and sucked in the powerfully stinky wind out of my sister’s back door, and it was glorious and in copious amounts, she may be 17 years old but her farts are quite literally the strongest in the world by a human being and the second ranked person couldn’t possibly hold a candle to her. Medical doctors themselves couldn’t figure out what made her fart so bad, though the five bean can a meal diet was certainly a culprit. Smelling a fart from my sister, especially a long 13-second long one is not just a mere task, it’s an obligation, a calling that comes with it great risk and great rewards. The risks, I could pass out from the smell of the fart, happened to me plenty of times. I could also get sick, inhaling all that exposed methane and sulfur on a daily basis was actually not as good as you would have imagined, the quantity she releases daily was off the charts. But there was also the rewards; I was smelling her farts, all the time, a service to the greatest person to ever walk the planet. I looked back after she had finished the earthquake-sounding flatulent toot and saw the back of her hair move around. She was still your normal girl, eating her beans and drinking her protein shake. She went back to eating her food while farting again like clockwork; I timed it to once every one-and-a-half minutes. Almost perfectly, the girl had a farting repetition that was legendary as the pungent aroma that filled up the kitchen, it reeked heavily of her gaseous aroma and to the two of us it seemed like nothing. Jennie was so used to her smelly farts that she often forgot the impacts it had on others when she let one toot in public. Sending people to the hospital from her farts was something that didn’t register as clearly on the mind of someone who wasn’t always worried about others. She did lack a bit of regard for others, not out of malice for others but just because her brain wasn’t wired to think about it. Finally she was finished with her bowl of beans and her shake. “How was your meal?” I asked her. She responded with a flat ass against the seat style of fart that created a deepening echo like noise in the room. PPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllllllllllllll The fart was being squished as she sat there squarely seated in her chair. That was the cool part of her. There was no emotion, she just sat there and pushed out the fart, with another fiery dosage of her wicked foul-smelling sulfur coming out and stinking up the room. It was such a nasty fart with little regard from her about how it was. She got up from her seat and left her bowl and glass there, she expected me to wash them. And with no word about her last fart she went back to her bedroom, she expected me to be there soon as I grabbed the dishes and quickly washed the bean juice out of the bowl and cleaned the glass. I walked over to the place where she was seated and grabbed a quick whiff of her seat. It smelled horribly like brunt wood and rotten eggs, but that was expected after seating the ass of a super gassy girl like my sister. I carried her backpack from the living room back into her room and found her standing up looking at the map as she dazed out there. I closed the door and placed the backpack on the floor and was about to head over to her bed when she spoke up. “Don’t put it there, don’t put it there, take the books out and begin going through my stuff. You know better….” BBBBBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppprrrrrr “Organize my stuff and do the job right.” “Yes sister.” I said as I walked over to my sister, still standing where she was. There was no need for instruction on what to do next, I was going to do that, but first I was going to sniff the fart out of her ass. I got on down on my knees and pressed my nose deep within the confines of her jeans and sniffed the air. Jennie didn’t have any expression on her face, it was expected behavior. She would fart and I would smell it, it was as ordinary as the sky being blue and water being wet. The smell of deep rotten eggs and girl shit filled my nose for the moment before I slowly backed away as she stood there impatiently, waiting for me to bring her books onto her desk and start organizing her schoolwork. She then sat down on her bed and immediately pushed forth another bed shaking fart. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm The fart sounded a lot more impressive with her gas release commanding the covers and sheets of her bed to ripple as she brought forth a gassy bomb upon it. As nasty and powerful of a fart as it was, it was not much for a girl that farted 800 times a day on average. That’s right, 800 farts a day. And that was “average” days, if she eats those eight cans of beans that number can shoot up to 1,000 farts. For those doing the math, 800 farts a day averages to 33 farts an hour. But since she represses a lot of those farts at school that number skyrockets in the evening. As she pushes down on another deep fart she further exemplifies my facts. Jennie Clark has always been a fart machine, forever. We’re pretty sure that she just has some kind of digestive disorder, something that enables her bowels to go on overdrive every day and push out lots and lots of loud, wet and silent farts. It got my attention early on, I remember even as a six year old girl being able to drop some rather impressive farts. This was non-coincidentally about the time she really started getting picky and insisted on baked beans every day. Considering her mental development at the time my parents just rolled with it and allowed her to have her diet. That diet has since ballooned and her farts have increased in power and potency each year. She was a fart machine years ago, now she’s a fart factory! Jennie sits there on her bed, looking up at the clock on the wall of the bedroom as she continues to fart, about once per minute. She just sits there and farts, there is literally nothing else going on. It’s the weirdest thing, but it’s normal behavior for her. The truth is she’s thinking of something, perhaps glancing at that map of her’s she likes to look at, but whatever it is she’s thinking, she’s not letting me know about it. But she is letting me hear and smell the farts, one per minute, she’s clockwork and frightening accurate at it too. So much gas bubbling up within her she can afford to fart at that frequency. Hell she could do once every half-minute if she wanted to, with ease. And the farts smell too. That shouldn’t be too surprising but they really do reek. Over time her farts have morphed into a kind of detestable odor that boggles the mind at its production. There is an ever constant sulfuric odor, that smells like the yellow rocks themselves, it actually surpasses the commonly-referred to rotten egg smell, but most people immediately think of that when they catch a whiff of her farts. Truth is, they smell much worse than rotten eggs. Dog farts are probably about as close to the true equivalency of her atrocious-smelling releases of gas but even they have a hard time keeping up with the sheer volume and density of what bubbles out of her ass. And every fart smells the same, if not worse. Jennie wouldn’t know a non-smelly fart if it came up to her and considering her constant diet all that hogwash about beans not really causing the odor is nonsense. Beans give her super smelly farts. If she ate more broccoli I would probably be dead from smelling them by now. BBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooooppppppppp!!!! BBBBBBBBBBrrrrrooooooppppppppttttt!!!!! Two farts came out this time, but they were almost singular as being one more bed muffled release of gas. Her sitting on the bed is helping to shield me from the true potency of her butt trumps, but I know it won’t be long before she has me smell them from a closer range. I’m as professional of a Jennie Fart Sniffer as possible. And the role of smelling the powerful farts of a 17-year old girl is not as simple as it may seem. There are techniques, protocols, expectations, behavior and conduct that are required when approaching my sister’s ass to smell a fart. They are so many that you have to approach the situation and be able to handle the frequency at which she farts. You do not tell her to do anything, you allow for her to take complete control of the situation. You do not adjust yourself to the farts, you allow the farts to mold you, shape you into the appropriate sniffer for them. Not just any nose can sniff her farts; it’s not something for amateurs. Even at her young age her farts are so far advanced that close contact sniffing can create hazards that few people can understand. That’s what I’m for, to handle these farts and in a way that gives them the complete and absolute respect they deserve. I am a slave to my sister and I am damn proud of it. Sitting there on the bed not saying a word and pushing forth bed-shaking farts nearly every minute while staring at a map, not exactly the kind of master you would think of, but she has absolute control over me. It’s a subtle kind of control that I think is the most devious, the most masterful, people could learn from her how to take complete control over anyone. Or maybe I’m just head over heels devoted to making sure she gets what she wants and is treated exactly as such. I am her total slave. I do all chores around the house, including laundry, cleaning, cooking, and anything else she desires. I tend to her every whim. You will be my fart sniffer, to worship her butt and praise everything that comes out of it. And I do this 24/7 every day of the year, there is no rest for the flatulent bottom of Jennie Clark. I finally positioned her textbooks on the desk exactly as she wanted them, one on top of the other, the biggest book on the bottom of the stack and the smallest book on the top. The pencils were arranged and sharpened to her left; her being left-handed only alerted to her perfection even more. Everything was set, I turned back to see if she was satisfied. “Good. My show's coming on.” She said looking at the clock; it was nearly time for this teen drama show of her’s. She did watch television and that meant that there was only one place for me, underneath her blanket so that she could watch the show in peace without getting too much of the aftermath of her farting. No words were exchanged as we knew exactly what needed to be done. She waited as I removed the blanket and allowed her to nestle her body on the bed, lying on her stomach she had her head resting on her two hands at the front of the bed. I then placed the blanket, neatly over her body and was quick to tuck in the blanket on one side to her left. Walking over to the right side of the bed I got onto the bed myself and lay toward her right. From inside the blanket I tucked in the blanket on the right side, making sure it was as secure as possible. For Jennie, her blanket was tucked in tight on both the right and left sides of her body, with only her body from her chest upwards sticking out so that she could watch her TV show. I was on the inside of the blanket, reading to serve my master’s needs in an epic Dutch ovening. Jennie has a thick blanket on, nice for keeping warm on cold days and also nice for trapping in the fumes of her fart. I’m lying down there on my own stomach, looking around as I find her legs, still covered in her pant legs. I prep myself for the first of what will be many farts. It’s only a minute before she cuts her first one. PPPPPPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Nice, powerful and long, Jennie does a solid eight-second long fart and it will be like this for the next hour, almost consistent, it’s a testament to her real power. She farts like no one else. Out of her ass it comes roaring out, it’s not a super-loud fart, but it makes plenty of noise, butthole opening up and puttering out an excruciating long bubbling of fart gas out of her ass, no one does it better than her. You want to know the book about farting, my sister’s written it. She knows how to fart big, how to fart long, how to fart smelly and how to fart like there is no tomorrow. The words “small fart” are not in her vocabulary. The insides of the blanket are dark and humid, the sound of her fart is all that occupies the small space as I try to move around just a little bit, but once I’m in here I’m in here. She can fart as much as she wants for as long as she wants and I will remain. She’s my goddess, I am here for her constantly, which is good because her fart is stinking something fierce! The fart smells, like really smells. People never get right just how bad the Jennie Clark Fart is. This fresh hell is a festering cesspool of stink and shit. My eyes bulged, my nostrils burned and all the while Jennie is beginning to watch her show as if nothing had happened. Jennie’s farts don’t smell bad; they smell toxic, super toxic. A girl with the diet she had can produce mind-boggling foul-smelling farts. And even with that I can tell you they smell much, much worse than that. The nastiest fart a person can release is still probably a 1 on a 1 to 10 scale compared to Jennie’s usual 10s. Her fart gas is said to have a similar chemical power to that of cyanide, and that direct inhalation from her asshole by those not used to her stink will result in coma-inducing blackouts, if not worse. It is scientifically proven that Jennie’s farts could kill. Not that she had killed anyone, but her diet is so destructive that she can release even deadlier farts than that. And that was normal, that was typical Jennie gas, fuel with other gas-producing foods and she can be even worse than that. The protein shakes only add fuel to the fire, protein farts can bring out the absolute most toxic farts with most people, given them to a 17-year old girl who eats five cans of beans on average each day and you now have a gaseous powerhouse. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr And there she goes again, 90 seconds after the first fart. Horrifying but true, my sister will keep to this schedule on the dot. Timing it based on an hour-long program, she will drop the hammer and fart 40 times while I’m here, all with this detestable fart odor. Imagine the stinkiest environment in the world and then imagine that stink multiplying 40 times, that’s what this next hour is going to be. For my sister, she’s watching some teen drama show on the TV, focused about the characters and their going-ons. For me, I’m serving a far greater master than myself, inhaling as much of her stinky fart gas as possible while giving her piece of mind as prevent her from smelling too much of it. But that’s fine with me; I’m really insignificant compared to her. I am weak and worthless compared to her; I am an ant to her glorious gigantic farts. Even if I was basically the same size as her I felt much smaller. I was hers to use, hers to do with as she pleased, she could kill me with her farts if she wanted to I knew it. And I was fine with that; I was more than dedicated to make sure that my sister felt pleasure watching her show. All I did was lie there for an hour, in darkness, smelling each time she farted. I inhaled with all my might, breathing in all the beyond rotten egg smelling aroma of her fart. But she farted so much I could never get all of it, her farts were among the greatest force on this planet. The Jennie Clark Fart, nothing compared to it. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHoooooooooooo And there she was again, 89 seconds after the last fart, man was she predictable. The fart sounds that come out from her could drive a fetishist crazy. They are perfect fart sounds, the kind of sounds that come out of someone who eats like her and farts like her. No wimpy farts here, not ever; these are world-class farts through and through. Each smell comes out with a powerful punch of sulfuric madness that fills up the insides of the blanket like a deadly fog. This isn’t just a Dutch Oven like you read about in other stories, this is being cooked alive inside by the horrid stench of your sister’s toxic farts, and none of those words are hyperbole. My sister often, perhaps most of the time, doesn’t understand the true corrosive nature of her farts. Over the course of her life her farts has had the ability to actually affect the nose of individuals close to her. Something inside the chemical compounds of her flatulence is a kind of chemical that alters your entire smelling structure. And as she cuts forth another deep and flappy fart I can take in another whiff of her gas. Jennie’s farts do strange things to people’s noses. To her nose, it has desensitized how she is able to smell them. In other words, she barely notices a thing. Oh she does smell them, quite often but the smell is much more tolerable than it really is. My parents seem to have the same effect on them, or otherwise they would have insisted on her moving to another building by this point given the strong concoctions that come out of her ass. Me on the other hand, her farts have had the reverse effect, I’ve been able to smell with more clarity and in turn smell all aspects of the fart. My sense of smell has heightened so much that I can smell absolutely everything that comes out of her, even with a stuffy nose her gas has no problem reaching my brain and my lungs. This heightens my importance to everyone else; I am the ultimate defense in this world from the far-reaching effects of her dangerously toxic smelling farts. I can alert her about how bad they really are since she can’t smell them that well. She can fart over and over again and not realize that she is releasing deadly aromas, but I can help sniff them up for her so that they don’t reach their full potency everywhere. You know those special pairs of underwear with the coal that can muffle the smell of a fart. That is what I am, I am that fart absorber, even here underneath these covers, I absorb everything about her fart. My life is reduced to that of a fart collector for my 17-year old sister, and there could be no greater honor. Perhaps now is time, while basking in my oven of Jennie’s stinky butt wind, to explain a little of that history. Jennie was made fun of when she was younger, not a surprise given her slight mental deficiencies, the heavy farting only added to that. She was not totally sure of why her peers treated her as such, but in any case I felt bad for her. I was never much in popularity at all, but seeing the treatment of my younger sister it was hard to see. So one day, she comes home crying from elementary school and I try to make her feel better. She told me that her farts stunk too bad and that she was made fun of for that. I made the fateful decision by offering to smell up some of her farts, in order to avoid her from smelling it. Now despite the disturbing fact that she was eight years old and I was almost 13, I sat there underneath her seat and smelled up her farts for the next two hours. Believe that even at that age her farts already were quite potent and what she gave me made me gag, cough and nearly throw up, but I stayed there, because she calmed down, she felt better and for once in my life I was doing something nice for my sister. Maybe it was the fart gas, but it felt great. Over the next few years, the behavior continued. Because she was a person of habit she continued to believe that I would smell her farts for her. Over time, I came to see that behavior as routine. Most of the time it was only for a couple of hours, I’d go into her room and smell some of her farts. Then weekends started to get involved and I would sit by her and smell them up, soon we developed a pattern of her sitting on my face with her cute butt and farting into my nose, we became used to this as my young life was already spiraling out of control. Like my sister I am different in my own way, I probably have some of what she’s got. I was as unpopular as she was, hell even she had a friend or two (Jeremy by the way has anosmia, which means he lacks a sense of smell,) so I was trying to find purpose in my life. My parents naturally were aghast at such behavior, although oddly they were more worried about my own health, thinking that breathing in such voluminous farts of prolific stink was unhealthy for me. But over time they found it as being cute, in my own weird way. In any case, I was being nice to my sister all the time, helping her out with some of her chores when she didn’t fully understand them and smelling up her farts. I became to like it. By the time she entered middle school, I was devoting more and more of my life to her. I think the true answer is just that both our brains were wired a specific way to arrive at the same conclusion, that I was meant to serve her and she was meant to lord over me and we both felt very comfortable with our tasks. Slowly I made sure that she was very comfortable at home. I did not force her to do any work and she loved the scenario. Even as I continued my career in high school I came to think of nothing more than Jennie and her farting ass and the lordship she held over me. Imagine that, a girl in middle school claiming her older brother as a slave, it was a perverse idea and I loved it. I was madly in love with the idea of being her slave, but I couldn’t go that far yet. But it was inevitable, the smelling of her farts, it altered my chemistry over time, at least I think it did. It was intoxicating, no one else could stand it, even our parents have had many reservations with her gas, but the farting was enriching my self-purpose. I could no longer see a future life ahead for me, it was already settled, I wanted to serve my sister, forever. I was at peace with myself and not even out of high school yet, no one could claim that. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPffffffffffffffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr A slightly bigger fart rumbles out of her ass, I sniff up the toxic air as best as I can, all I do for my sister. It was my last day of high school and her last day of middle school where it all changed. I came up with a daring idea and brought it to my sister, she couldn’t be happier. Since that last day as a high school senior was optional I told her that I would accompany her to her last day of middle school and serve as her fart cushion for the entire day, I was in for an amazing day. Jennie was in a special education classroom that day, as she still is today in high school. She was in a class with about ten other students who had similar mental conditions like herself. As it is, she is very smart and able to handle being in a normal classroom, but she’s more sociably awkward and with her abundant farting it was determined that keeping her in a smaller classroom would be better for all the other students to not have to deal with her farting and likewise to keep her away from potential ridicule by her fellow classmates that might not think she’s too special with her 20+ farts an hour in class. So here I was a senior high school student, positioning my body so that I was seated on the ground with my head faced upwards toward Jennie’s seat. And there was my sister, a 13-year old female student in the 8th grade with her pair of white pants on, sitting comfortably on my face with her cushioned seat making it a little easier for the both of us. Her fellow students of course saw the whole thing as strange but the school was more than willing to make special accommodations for students like my sister. And so, with my head craned like it was I stayed there for 40 minutes at a time, staring upwards at my sister’s ass as she slowly began farting. And as soon as the farting began the students realized what my purpose was. For a girl her age my sister was farting like a pro, again and again she would drop farts that went on for several seconds, bubbling across my face and sending deep penetrating thrusts of potent gas into my head and my body. And I stayed there, each class, smelling all of my sister’s gas, it was a beautiful thing. Somehow I survived the ordeal, for once in my sister’s life she was able to fart in class without getting too much ridicule from her fellow classmates. Even though all of them were well-meaning of her they did give her a little hassle for her constant gas, but on this day, she was able to fart at will (scaring them as to how much she could fart) and they didn’t have to smell much of her gas. Sure her big ones would still clear out the classroom and the adjacent hallway and scare the ever-loving crap out of me, but she was for once happy. Even at lunch, as my sister ate another can of baked beans, she continued to fart on my face as I lay down on the bench in the cafeteria. Everyone couldn’t believe it, but I stayed there, because I knew my purpose. I served my sister and protected the rest of the world from the true power of her farts. Since then, I had become more devoted as time had passed on, serving her in this capacity. In high school she remains in the same kind of classroom, only now they have a special cushion that allows her to fart without them becoming too much of a problem, but on her gassier days they’ve had to evacuate from time to time. That’s why I’m going further and offering myself her last year of school to be her fart cushion, each and every day, I will serve that purpose, smelling her farts and allowing her to be able to function in class without stinking it up. This was my function in the world, as she would continue to increase her diet to include more and more beans, every day it seems that more beans enter her body than she knows what to do with. I will be there, serving as the guardian that protects the world from the downright outrageous odors to come out of her ass, sniffing them up and serving a greater person than myself. For such a wonderful person as Jennie is I am but a small ant compared to her greatness. She’s a nice person and even for someone who talks little she is always thinking about the world and those around her, even if she can’t outright say it herself. But she needs a person like me, to always be there to whiff up her putrid fart gases so that they don’t have to suffer them. She doesn’t understand that her farts can kill, and so I have to serve the greater good and take it all in. Smelling her gas will become a full-time job and it was the dream job I could have only wished for years ago that day as her fart cushion back at middle school. I am at peace here in her gas chamber. 30 minutes into her program and there was a sudden rumbling from her tummy that shook the bed itself. I looked over to her jean-covered rear end to ask myself what was about to happen. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRR Oh that, my sister’s farts just got bigger! It was so neat seeing slightly through the darkness of the blanket her butt rising up ever so slightly before she let her rip. It was a loud and smelly fart. Truly prolific in its nature, growing in intensity as the taste of Taco Bell and beans filled my nostrils and my mouth with a inexhaustible amount of stink. She could render the insides of a blanket into a zone of deadly stink like no one alive. The fart came out none the same, the sound effect of the fart reverberating out around her. The whole area shook; there was so much force in this fart that I could feel my own body pulsate with the force of this fart. The smell was certainly something to behold and my lungs were taking it all in. It was worth it though, it was her, I could eat and smell her farts till the end of time. She was pushing out such ghastly stinks that my mouth was getting a taste of the foulest place on the face of the earth. Probably not that far off, but when my ears had finished ringing I had to stay there in amazement at the power of her fart. And best of all, my sister didn’t move or comment on the fart, this thing was loud as hell and she paid it no attention, but that was my sister. And because she was only beginning, she did the same thing just 90 seconds later, her farts were now clocking in at 12 seconds a piece, all long and thundering out of her and with the insane frequency of a minute and a half that meant 12 seconds of loud booming fart followed by 78 seconds of quiet before she discharged the next load of her behind. The sound of wet and stinky wind blowing out from between her cheeks at that frequency was amazing, it is always an experience to be here when Jennie cuts the cheese and because she always cuts the cheese there is always something amazing. She is a non-stop orchestra of flatulence that is ongoing for hours, one fart after another, however long the frequency is depends on her but it continues at that pitch the whole time. Her bowels are a never stopping factory of massive stinky gas production. And I’m in here underneath the blanket as she continues to unload her gas. My eyes are watering, my nose is suffering and my lungs are trying their best to inhale all the atrocious stink of her fart, but it is never enough. Just as soon as I’ve taken in as much of one of her powerful farts she pushes out another, like clockwork. All hail the power and glory of my sister Jennie’s farts. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH It was now 55 minutes from the first time I had gone into the blanket and it would appear that her TV program was over. I figured this because she would only drop the truly horrific stink bomb like this under this condition. Her ongoing farting still in my head she pushed out this behemoth, even by her own standards. The best part about serving my sister was witnessing her extra ability to break wind of a larger magnitude. And not only that, but she could rip multiple farts in a row of that strength. Blowing out of her very ample rear end was a nice and ripe stinker of a fart. The fart shook the bed around me and I felt profoundly the shockwaves from the bubbly loud blaster as the fart echoed throughout the bedroom. The monster went on for nearly 30 seconds as I felt this foul-smelling rotten egg aroma pass through her pants with the smell of pure shit and beans. A fog of brown air began to fill the space outside of her ass as the stench of my fart started to gain in strength and power. I was nearly ready to die, the smell had gained potency after her release and was continuing, smellier and smellier, I found as if I was almost ready to perform my duty to her now. Now I could tell that that Taco Bell and beans were going strong in her system. I looked back as the smell hung stronger than any force on the planet out of her glorious booty. “Ewww!” Was all my sister could say to that one. That meant exactly one thing, her fart stunk! It stunk so bad that even she could have smelled it, which certainly saying a lot for someone whose sense of smell was diminished a bit. Of course I was breathing in as much of this diabolical masterpiece of a stinker as I could. Slowly the power of the stench grew until it was very strong. Oh God did it stink like hell, like rotten eggs again with so much sulfur you could black out just from the sheer volume of it. Truth is though, her farts smelled like “rotten eggs” back when she was in middle school, now they are much stinkier, writing about how much they stink would be a never-ending process for me. People these days have to wonder if her farts can really smell this bad. Nowadays it seemed that no human or animal were able to produce such a stench like what blows out of her guts. Throw ten giant old eggs and a dead rat in a garbage can and let nature do its job for 2 weeks, then you may have an idea of what kind of horrific smells come out of her butt. And because my sister is a master at this sort of thing, she cuts another nearly 30-second long burst of nasty bubbly gas. Only this time I position myself differently. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH As soon as I hear the fart begin I know exactly what to do, I shove my head deep into the crack of her ass and begin to take the gas in wholesale. I begin to sweat at the sight of her imposing ass, clad only in a thong that was buried far too deep to see and her blue jeans covering it. Her butt was easily large enough to swallow your head if she desired. My face was buried between Jennie's big but soft cheeks and were forced to follow her gyrations as she broke wind. You could tried to breathe, with your nostrils were filled with the scent of her backside. But there was no point in that; the fart was coming in at full strength and for another half-minute long interval. Through the darkness and the dimly lit space, I could barely see the outline of her thong against the wall of her crack. They must have stink bombed like nothing else the way she had been farting in them. The smell came out fierce and strong and my nose took it all in. Over time I had discovered that my body had been slowly adapting itself to become the perfect fart receptacle for my sister’s overtly toxic farts. A fart like this pumped so much flatus into my body that a lot of it was blowing around my face, with my body at serious capacity from taking it all in. For nearly a minute my body consisted of nothing my Jennie’s stinky butt wind. This was a common process, after about a minute of processing her gas it would be absorbed into my body, becoming part of my body’s slow decay into being nothing more than the fart catcher for my sister. I would feel woozy and sick and there were days in which I was not feeling too well to be doing this, but it was an honor and a duty to do this, so I breathed in as much of the gas as possible. It didn’t smell too healthy for anyone, it didn’t taste too good either, farts like this were repulsive in every nature. The burning hot gas forced a slight tan on my face with the fabric of her blue jeans heating up rapidly with the expulsion of the fart. And that was before the noise was considered; my body was moving back and forth as this fart had grown fouler and stronger. The entire house eventually was shaking under the pulsating force of this bomb of a fart and I was at ground zero, inhaling as much of it as possible so that she didn’t have to smell it too much, but a fart this big, she was going to catch a strong whiff of it, it was inevitable. I heard her giggle at my breathing and she clenched her cheeks tightly around my head. I began to feel lightheaded and dizzy, but you weren't sure if it were from lack of oxygen and energy or just the fact that this fart was rather hefty sized. And to make everything worse, only a few seconds after the completion of that fart, there was another one. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm Much shorter fart this time, this was a bonafide “after-fart.” With earthquake shaking farts there was always the possibility that she could cut one or two after-farts that got the rest of what was messing with her tummy out. The inside of the blanket is growing dangerously close to being a gas chamber that could be used by the state for execution. Even the small after-farts are bad enough to clear out entire rooms, the humongous farts before that are only making matters even worse. It is with great relief then that Jennie’s show was over and she was ready for something else, so I saw her body move and through the cracks in the covers I could tell that she was moving out of the bed and giving me a little bit of free air. Only it wasn’t, blankets off the bedroom smelled wretchedly horrible. It’s a fuming fog of stinky gas that could incinerate the entire neighborhood with one spark of fire. She stands there looking around her room before she begins to slide off her jeans; the farting had been a little warm on her so she wants to change her clothes. After taking them off she throws them at me to inspect. “Are my jeans worthy today?” She asks me. It’s an odd question but she’s an odd person. I take a closer look at her blue jeans; they were well-worn that day, not ripped up anyway. Her butt was a little big so it took a bit of denim to cover her posterior but otherwise the jeans were something you could get at a normal store. What I do though is take a whiff of the seat of her jeans and my mind goes haywire for almost 20 seconds. I’m not just talking it’s a little scrambled, it’s in a trance. I smell and smell and smell until there’s nothing less to smell, it’s part of my job as her fart sniffer, I sniff the farts out of her and then smell them out of the denim fabric of her jeans. But they are a queen’s wardrobe so I sniff happily. I finally take the jeans and lie them down on the bed and announce to her. “They are worthy.” “Good.” She says as she heads over to her desk, she sits down and gets ready to open one of her textbooks, but first she has something to do, kill the remaining air in her bedroom. She leans over slightly to her left, now with her butt bare save for her black thong and she releases a silent fart from the bowels of hell. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff Most people call these things silent but deadly farts. Not my sister, they have only two words, “Death Clouds.” And the name is most appropriate. Whenever my sister releases one of her rumbling farts, the kinds that make nose, parts of the stink is destroyed from the kinetic energy of the rumbling and is left on her crack never to be exposed to the air, but not her Death Clouds. She can release them with no interference, even if the ass and thong are doing a minimal effect of diluting the effect. She leans over and pushes out a Death Cloud that goes on for more than 30 seconds and one that long is realistically deadly. If my nose wasn’t conditioned to breathe in the stinky gas from her rear end I would be killed by inhaling these vapors. Death Clouds only come a few times out of the day and that’s great news for a girl who farts 800 times daily. If she could fart 100 of these babies in a day the whole neighborhood would be consisting of dead people. Her Death Clouds have incredible range; the house stinks instantly, not that my parents were already aware of that one. In school her Death Clouds would likely kill students in several nearby classrooms and clear out the building. The range of these things is unheard of, this isn’t your garden variety SBD, this is something on an entire different level. And the worst part of this one, it actually was audible. You hear about a hissing sound sometimes with these things, this was a legitimate hissing sound, like air coming out of a balloon, or like the sound of air being pumped into a tire, you could hear my sister cut her Death Cloud and the sound was as deadly as the aroma that came out from her. And the odor, the odor is unfathomable. The appalling stench of her Death Cloud continued to escalate and spread as it attacked every corner of the room. It was twenty times smellier than anything she had pushed out that day, even her giant fart from a few minutes ago was a weakling compared to this beauty. There was the reason she took off her jeans, a fart like this could potentially stain them with a fiery burn of hot molten gas from which the denim couldn’t recover. I looked over to her as she smiled while looking up toward the ceiling as she let loose the power and fury of this fart. I could have heard the hissing noise of her fart, but alas it was nothing but silence. As her half minute-long silent fart persisted I tasted the fart as well; I could taste the rotten eggs and cheese that had been expelled from her fart. But perhaps horrifying enough, I could taste the onions and the black beans that had filled her stomach. Her Taco Bell meal was now doing all kinds of things, but the protein shake and baked beans were also in there. What did it matter, she was my 17-year old sister and if she wanted to cut farts like this it was her business. The truth is, the world had to be ready for what came out of her bowels. It wasn’t our world for her to fart in; it was her farts that were destined for the world. The very planet was designed to ultimately be the receptacle for what wafted out of her ass, which right now was destined to be killer. Her bowels were producing a catastrophic amount of flatulence that was filling up her bedroom with something that was way over the top. More and more of this rotten odor was being let out as Jennie was cutting back her smelliest fart of the day, in my presence at least. I hung around like a trooper as she pushed out the fart, as I dared not to open up any windows or doors with her releasing this masterpiece. I couldn’t not disrupt the creator in the middle of her work. And believe me, Jennie was a walking farting giant over anyone else on the planet, no one could even compare to her majesty in cutting this stinkiest of cheese. And then just like that the farting was over, she sat back down and opened up her book, taking in sigh of relief as she felt happy from bursting out this truly deadly fart from her ass, she looked back at me and smiled. “Get me some beans.” She said. “Yes Jennie.” I said, scampering out of her room with a lethal burst of flatulence already filling up the room, and she wanted more beans. I must always feed the monster. |
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