Thank God It's Friday

Thank God It's Friday

finally another fic, featuring Matt the Slob 😏

CW: eprocto, eructo, sharts, mentions of piss, and slobby behaviour 🥴

Living with Matt feels like the world's worst cosmic joke and you don't like it.

You don't. You don't.

You don't like that his consistent BO is becoming bizarrely familiar or that you can tell what he had for lunch based on the stench of his burps. You don't like that you wake up early because his morning flatulence practically shakes the walls or that the shower tile is slowly turning yellow from how often he pisses into the corner. You don't like that there are strange and questionable stains on the fabric of the couch, that the toilet always needs plunging, that you inexplicably find bottles filled with urine all over the place because he's too lazy to head to the bathroom, and you especially don't like that he's something of a casual nudist that has no shame being completely naked in front of you while he relaxes. It's a terrible problem for which you hold no blame, and it's completely, entirely unavoidable how you always, always end up spending the evening watching movies together every Friday night with a huge meal and a few drinks.

You tell yourself it's because you want to spend the night in instead of out with your friends (who are blowing up your phone) and it's a wholly unfortunate coincidence that Matt happens to have Friday nights off.

Definitely unfortunate. Definitely unavoidable.

Tonight you're watching an old alien horror movie with bad special effects and even worse acting. You're tucked into your preferred armchair beneath a blanket, and Matt is lying in his usual way along the entire couch. He laughs and points out one plot hole or another, but you haven't been able to focus on the content of the movie since the opening credits.

If there's one thing that gets Matt gassy above all else (and there's definitely at least two dozen things) it's pizza. Specifically, the meat deluxe pizza with extra onion from your usual take away place. Between the onion, the grease, and Matt's refusal to acknowledge his intolerance of dairy, he's been letting out monstrous belches and noxious farts all evening with an utter lack of shame. His flatulence is often loud enough to drown out the TV entirely, but this isn't quite what has you distracted. Nor is it the fact that he's utterly naked, unashamed of his nude body in front of you. If anything, listening to a naked Matt rip ass while you try to watch a movie is astonishingly routine.

No, the problem this evening is that Matt clearly needs to take a dump, and seems prefer tempting fate than walking the 10 feet to the bathroom.

You spot the slightest twitch of his leg from the corner of your eye, like he's deciding if he wants to part his legs further or not. Lying on the cushions, arm beneath head, one leg bent at the knee and the other hooked over the low back of the couch, Matt doesn't seem to care that his entire crotch and ass is open to your gaze. His soft cock flops gently to the side as he scratches beneath his balls, letting out a little grunt of relief as he does, and you can't help but watch every pass of his fingers against the thick hair at his taint. It's a brazen act that you shouldn't look at, shouldn't watch, but your eyes are glued to his shameless indulgence.

His fingers pause, halfway through a thorough scratch of his scrotum, and you know what's coming even before you see his asshole twitch open within the thicket of hair. A short, loud ppllorrrrft of gas escapes him, and you spot a flash of something brown within his rectum before it retreats.

"Ugh." Matt shifts his hips up to push out a longer, sloppier fart while you try to ignore the hot flush crawling across your face. The fluttering gape of his hole reveals the dark tip of a buried log that's really far too close to coming out. It ends with a soft bffllrrt and a wink. "Ah, fuck. That cheese is wrecking my guts," he says with a chuckle, taking a moment to sniff his fingers before reaching back down to continue scratching. "Oh man, that stinks."

You're too overwhelmed by the show he's giving you to form a proper sentence, so you make some kind of noise of acknowledgement and try to drag your eyes back to the movie.

Matt makes it hard, though. He shifts from scratching himself to massaging his bloated gut for a while, pressing down beneath his navel with a gentle palm and dragging his hand up around one side of his abdomen and back again. He works up a few low belches that he releases with a sigh, but nothing from the other end. He seems to be empty for now, at least. Or maybe just clogged up.

You glance between his legs again, and can't believe what you see. The thick, hard tip of a turd is openly visible, tucked just within his asshole. You can see just how massive the log is, wide enough to stretch open Matt's tired hole without coming out; it remains unmoving, stuck at the final ring of muscle and unwilling to go further.

You're hot from head to toe (from embarrassment, probably) and you can't look away. His hole twitches and bulges with the strain of the massive load that's ready to come out, and yet Matt remains fixated on the TV.

"Hey," you say, fighting to keep your voice level as Matt glances at you. "Do you, uh. Do you wanna go to the bathroom?"

There's no way to misinterpret what you're saying, or why you're saying it. Matt's increasingly stretching hole is literally in your line of sight.

But Matt shrugs and looks back at the screen. "Nah, I'm good," he says, rubbing his hand over his gut again. His asshole flares and shifts, and a revoltingly muffled fart rumbles around the bulging log, poking it out a little before it recedes once more. "Mmm. I don't wanna get up just yet."

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. There's no way you'll convince him to get up before he wants to, and you're confident he won't actually take a dump on the couch cushions. Fairly confident. Somewhat.

You force yourself to watch the movie, attempting to distract yourself from the turtleheading log just out of your vision. Matt continues to rub his stomach and vent his gas, at some point during the film turning onto his side to clamp his cheeks together. This only makes his farts louder and bubblier, but you can tell by the way his cheeks clench that he's struggling to hold back what must be an urgently massive load.

Near the end of the movie, you hear a grunt and glance over to see Matt's leg lift a little to push out a truly sloppy, gooey sounding fart that bubbles so forcefully though his asscheeks that you can see them ripple with the vibration. Worse is the final burble that shoots out a marble-sized chunk of shit right between his cheeks.

"Ooh," Matt sighs, panting with the exertion of expelling his stuck gas. He chuckles after a moment, patting his belly with one hand. "Think I sharted on that one. Felt good though." He grunts and rolls over a little, pulling aside one hairy cheek to give you a better view of the mess currently smushed between his cheeks. "Can you check? Did I leave a stain?"

You clear your throat and try to find your voice, eyes glued to the smear of brown along his crack. "Not on the couch," you manage to say. You have no idea if that's actually true.

"Oh. Great," he replies, readjusting the pillow he stuffed under his head to better see the TV at his new angle. He makes no move to rise from the couch and take care of his now dirty ass. "Thanks, roomie."

You nod faintly and return your eyes to the screen, pretending to watch the movie and desperately trying to ignore the smell. There's a quiet, whining fart from Matt's dirty ass, and despite the stench and the disgust and the embarrassment, you can't help but wonder if you could order extra cheese on the pizza next week.

Written this mind

Warnings- mentions of stuffing, eprocto, scat, voyeurism (?)

Following a night of fooling around with their partner, after a surprisingly large, very rich, somewhat spicy dinner, A rouses just past seven in the morning, shifting drowsily beneath the sheets. It takes a minute, but soon enough, the memories of the previous night wash over them, leaving them with a renewed feeling of euphoria. B had come home with two large bags full of take-out in their arms, and, as they'd eaten, B had let it slip that seeing A the way they had a couple week ago, upon their arrival, had confused them at first, but eventually, confusion had morphed into excitement, and more importantly, admittance. B wanted what they did; to watch them grow steadily, and turn into what B had affectionately called a 'gassy, eating and shitting machine.'

Even with a night spent with B feeding them a variety of foods from a restaurant in the city, with intervals spent with palms wedged into the fluff of their belly, coaxing out rancid gas, A can hardly believe that that the desires they'd harbored in secret aligns with B's. Which is why they've barely questioned it; at least if it by some twisted fate, it is a dream, they'd have made the most of it.

The musings don't last long, for A is soon reminded of what has awoken them this early on a Saturday morning. B is still asleep, cuddling them from behind, with a leg hooked over A's hip and an arm draped lazily over their side, their hand just above the ever-existent swell of A's tummy. And speaking of A's tummy, the gassy gurgles from the night before have returned with vengeance, except, by now, it's journeyed lower and powerful cramps makes their toes curl. Biting their lower lip, A brings a hand to their belly, pressing into the spot right below their navel. The pressure aids in allowing them to push out a deep, rumbling fart that vibrates their fatty cheeks, right against B's crotch.

Sighing uncomfortably, A squirms slightly at the pressure against the sphincter. It isn't abnormal for them to need a trip to the toilet in the morning, it's routine actually, but their tummy is rebelling with an urgency that is usually reserved for only when they absolutely must have relief, without time for delay. A couple of sputtering farts, that sound sort of like raspberries being blown into someone's stomach, accompanied by a watery spray has A whining desperately. Any more and they fear they'll be making a mess all over B.

A strained exhale parts their lips, already, beads on sweat is gathering on their skin. Each pungent toot brings them closer to losing control, causing them to groan inwardly. An especially loud blast rockets out of them, and worried that their control is dwindling, A sits up hastily, consequently waking B.

"Where are you going?" B mumbles, trying to get them back into laying position.

"To the bathroom," A protests, knowing that time is of the essence. Silent gas is seeping from their sweating rear as they speak and the heat in the air makes their stomach churn.

"Mmmm," B sits up, shifting to snake their arms around A's bubbling mid, teasingly pressing into the bloat that serves as their tubby belly, "Why?" They feign ignorance, "Can't you pee a little later?"

"I don't have to pee," A counters, pressing their bum into the mattress, desperate to keep their eager load at bay, "I have to take a fucking shit," they explain trying to shake of B's frim embrace.

Chuckling, B coos tauntingly, "My gassy little pet has to poop," they tease with a chortle, nibbling on the back of A's neck, biting down a little harder when a fart whistles from below A. Truly, they'd always hoped to share their desires with B, and the new teasing is painfully arousing, but that doesn't change the fact that they don't want to ruin their favorite sheets with a messy load.

"I really have to go," they beg, their toes curling in anticipation and their palms griping their knobby knees tightly, knuckles going white, "Please let me go."

B hums contemplatively, "Okay," they permit, but their hold has yet to relent, "But," it feels like they're taking their sweet time to get to words out, and A thinks their doing it on purpose. The fabric beneath them is uncomfortably warm and even if the moisture between their cheeks isn't poop, but A knows that it won't be long before that changes. "I want to watch."

"Done," they agree hastily, standing from the minute B releases them, keeping their hole pinched shut, cradling their belly and padding over to the adjoining bathroom, with B close on their heels.

Neither of them are much too concerned with the door, and from the moment A spots the pristine, porcelain throne, an immense sense of relief washes over them. Though, it's severely short lived when B stops them, rummaging through a neatly packed cabinet below that double sink. Before A can even manage the words, B is explaining, "Not in there silly. Clearly you don't like the toilet," they wink, referring to all the soiled laundry they'd found in the tub upon their return, "So why don't you just go on the floor?"

Still nursing their distended stomach, an electric spark of arousal travels to their crotch as warning toots escape them. But they're also a little self conscious, "Are you sure?" They inquire unsteadily as B lays out the fluffy white towel in front of the tub.

"Very," they reach to lead A over, "Come on baby, I know you're desperate."

"Uh huh," A agrees, lowering their naked frame into a squat. The position is a good one, but they're a little too heavy to support their own weight on just their legs like that, so A leans forward a bit, sticking out their ass and gripping the cool lip of the tub.

Gas hisses out of them, and immediately, their puckered hole yawns open, widening around the first, eager length. Its a bit on the bigger side, but its soft enough to not hurt, easily snaking out of them. Ample cheeks, riddled with the light sheen of old stretch marks, make way for the emerging dark brown, glistening loaf, which coils as it reaches the towel positioned below A. Their stomach contracts gently as A pushes, birthing the beginnings of what they assume to be a sizeable movement.

"Look at that," B muses huskily, from their seat on the floor not too far behind, "How does that feel sweetheart?"

A grunts, wincing at the twist in the pit of their belly, "It burns a little," they pant, "And my tummy hurts." Exertion gathers on their brow, and as the length breaks off with a thud. A's shit-stained lips wink as they bear down a little, feeling another mass descend through their colon, "Oh, here it comes," they announce as a lump rears its head.

A's always been a loud pooper, prone to grunting, moaning and even a little cursing, but having B around encourages them to be even more vocal. "Fuck," they lean further forward, so their heels lift off the floor just about an inch, "B, can you see that?" With the first half of the log cleared, the rest descends with ease, "It feels big," it's just as long as the first too, piling on top of A's initial rope of shit, before breaking of with a gagged edge.

"It is," B agrees, impressed, having to shift slightly to quell their arousal, "Are you done?"

"Nope," A blasts a series of short, nasty toots. It's a lot, sure, but they can still feel some more settled inside them, "I think I've got a bit more."

It takes a couple minutes spent ridding their gut of the gas, but eventually, they're crowning again, that mass wider than the first two, but much softer, rocketing out of A and slopping in a semi-solid mass next to the first lengths. A moans as their tummy groans and gurgles, pushing out greasy blasts, smaller flecks of wet poop accompanying the gas and peppering the white of the towel.

"Does it hurt baby?" B probes, shifting onto their knees to get a clearer view of A's fluttering hole, sucking in a sharp breath when a watery fart vibrate A's butt.

"Yeah," A admits, "But it feels so fucking good too," they rock their hips, "Ngh, it's coming." The poop is slowly snaking through their gaping hole, gathering with the other loaves, snapping off before the last lengths, shorter and far softer than the rest, lands on top of the pile. "Done," they declare after a couple tentative pushes.

"Whew," B whistles, "You shit like a cow baby," They stand, colleting the roll of tissue and then joining A, "So much and so stinky."

A blushes, feeling another spark reach their crotch, "Do you wanna do it?" They offer, "I think I got really dirty," just the mere thought of having B's fingers touching them like that was so erotic to them, cleaning up after them, like they always do. Taking care of them, as they always do.

Without a verbal response, B unrolls a wad of tissue, guiding it to the split of A's ass, starting low and dragging it upwards, fingers lingering upon brushing A's hole. A gasp breaks the air and A jumps slightly, gnawing on their lip.

B is surprisingly gentle. using at least four separate wads, pressing their pointer to A's hole each time they wipe, only stopping when the paper comes back clean. They're still crouched in front of the tub, with A hovering over their little mountain of poop, when B begins; "Now," the pepper kisses on to A's sweat-dampened cheek, "Why don't we go get you some breakfast? It's time to start fattening you up."

damn what if u sat on my lap and let me feed u a lot of gross greasy gassy food and then u burped and farted on me all night and i kept feeding u until u shart on my lap would that be crazy hahahahaha could you imagine hahahahahah

wanna sit backwards in someone’s lap while they rub and jiggle my overfed tummy

squirming as much as my fat body and stuffed belly will allow until the pressure gets to be too much and i release several loud, rumbling, sloppy farts in rapid succession right onto their crotch and feeling them grow more and more turned on with each one, their grip on my belly tightening as they try to work more pressure out 💕🐽

having a huge meal, steak, potatoes, bread, everything i love to indulge myself in then having hot, nasty trans sex when we get back to the room.

my rumbly, full tummy’s groans will mix with the noises we make while each of us fuck into each other. stopping periodically to catch my breath since my dinner filled me so much i could barely breathe, ill let out a lone fart or burp here and there, followed by a sigh of relief before getting back into the action. the movement of our fucking will make the gas move itself around, eventually leading to a few urgent farts being released each thrust.

after both of us are satisfied, my tummy will be your pillow as the sound and smell of my nasty gas lulls you to sleep. every so often another bubbly fart will ripple out of my fat cheeks, with my response a chuckle or a smirk. you’ll be able to listen to the build up making its way down my gut, then feel it’s vibrations against the sheets and it’s heat and smell trapped under the covers your head is resting so close to. as you sleep i’ll continue to let out nasty farts, the smell and frequency getting worse as my meal digests and i get closer to needing to find a bathroom.

Umm, holy shit 😳😳😳