3 Burping Pros At The Same Room

3 burping pros at the same room

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."

You’re lounging on the couch one day with your fave, who is your partner. You have told them about your fetish(es), and they’re okay with it - they’re even willing to indulge you.

When you ask if you can feed them a large bowl of poutine, coated in melted cheese and soaked in gravy, they agree. You give them forkful after forkful, and they’re moaning with every bite. Soon, their belly is showing signs of bloating and your fave is struggling to keep up with the bites, slowing down considerably. You say, “be a good boy/girl/whatever, and have one more bite for me, okay?” With a groan, they oblige.

You’re watching TV - except you’re not, really. You’re more intent on how your fave is reacting to the poutine, how their stomach is bubbling and gurgling, how they’re groaning. They speak up, then.

“I can’t hold it.” Voice timid, they cannot meet your gaze before they are leaning to the side to allow an incredible rumbler to make its way from their rear. For the rest of the day/night, you’re coaxing fart after fart from their bloated belly, all while putting your face right against their ass in order to huff the putrid smells.

BONUS SCAT

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Imagine you’re on a date with your fave. Before going to the fancy dinner with you, they met with their friends and had a lot of greasy snacks that are now sitting heavily in their belly. Still, they don’t wanna be rude, so they order a bunch of food on top of it all. The moment they see you they realize how bloated they are. While talking to you, they hold their butthole clenched as they fantasize about sitting on your lap and farting to their heart’s content. Their desperation is growing and they’re starting to think they’re gonna loose control as the waiter brings you your main course. Adding more food makes the pressure insufferable, so they try their luck with subtly farting. They release a long silent fart that has been marinating in their stomach for a couple of hours and gained putrid smell of concentrated hot shit. While the terrible stench assults your nostrils, your fave doesn’t even notice bc they’re too used to their own bodily smells. Seeing you don’t react (either out of politeness or bc you secretly enjoy it) they decide that being subtle was successful and so they keep stuffing themselves with food, every few moments letting out out lingering silent but deadly explosions. They feel pretty confident as you get brought dessert and so start releasing rumbling farts into the fancy seat. You of course pretend not to hear anything, or see them lifting up one leg to let go another eggy hiss and keep chatting away.

They grow really fond of you and offer to go to your place and watch a movie. You agree and drive the both of you there. Your fave quickly gets desperate again during the long journey and turns up the music as they shamelessly rip ass, just a little bit too loud for you not to hear. As they try to relieve themselves of most of the bloat before they enter your home, they make your car smell more or less like an outhouse in the middle of summer next to a baked beans eating competition.

You two finally arrive home and you show them around. As you pick your movie, your fave takes one of your decorative pillows puts it down on the sofa in front of the tv. They sit on it and you sit next to them, moments later they put their arm around you. You two sit calmly, nicely cuddled up as your fave, still bloated, relieves themselves by letting farts rumble deep into your pillow. As they put a blanket over the both of you, you’re almost stuck in a dutch oven, forced to pretend that you don’t smell some of the worst stenches nature has to offer. As you cuddle, your fave’s fart start getting louder and nastier, but they’re still convinced you didn’t notice anything.

(scat warning)

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stuck between the urge to have someone sit on my lap and rip nasty, burbly ass on me for hours or for me to sit in someone else’s laps and rip nasty, burbly ass on them for hours

Imagine A had a really bad gas problem at night. They had a tendency to hold it in all day and end up blasting huge, disgusting farts under the covers at night. A's partner, B, has a huge thing for farts, but of course hadn't said anything out of fear. Every single night, A snuggles into bed and falls sound asleep, their ass jiggling as they released fat, nasty bubbly bursts of gas all over B.

A eventually caught the memo once they woke up in the middle of the night, shocked awake by a particularly loud fart and a unseemly moan coming from their partner. B hadn't noticed they had woken up, but A had begun to shuffle closer and closer to B, pressing their ass against their crotch and letting loose as much gas as possible. B groaned as they came to the sensation, quietly asking A if they were awake. A answered yes, but quickly comforted B and let them know they found their little attraction adorable. From then on, A wouldn't just hold their farts out of embarrassment...theyd hold them because they were saving it all for B.