Britney The Farter 2 - Part 1

MISS BRITNEY ROGERS THE FARTER 2

By: SellCon2762

In the closet I laid, amidst the vast darkness and silent humming sound of only a young girl snoring….and oh yeah, the smell of a dozen skunks. The air in this closet was slightly better than the smell in the bedroom in general. A slight haze would hover around nearly all hours of the day, that was the price one paid for being in the company of a girl who farted even more than she did when I first met her. But it was the most powerful and heavenly stench ever produced and every time I whiffed one of her wonderful farts I realized just how lucky I was. I checked my watch to see that it was now past 4:00 in the morning. This was around the 100th day of my new permanent assignment and this was one of those times where I thought about my decision and wondered if I had made the correct choice. The conditions weren’t great, but to me the rewards were worth it, but sometimes I wondered what would happen as time moved on by. All my friends were now starting college, off to form their new lives. Removed from my own family over my fateful choice to take on this job I had though on some long nights as the wafting stench of fart gas hung around the bedroom. The smell was heinous most of the time and on occasion it was downright horrid, but I thought about that 13-year old girl sleeping all comfortably in her bed and knew that in the end, it was worth it. I was now the Permanent Personal Slave to Miss Britney the Farter!

Being a slave, no less a Fart Slave for Miss Britney has never been an easy task and there has been much suffering for me, but to smell the best farts in the world it will be worth it in the end. The demands of serving Miss Britney will not to be taken lightly and as I started out I found out that the timetable for assignments were fierce.  Taking on the needs of a Flatulent Goddess like Miss Britney has forever changed my thoughts; alter my thinking of what’s important in life. I have found that the person I once knew has rapidly faded away; absorbed into the greatness of Miss Britney, this sweet and innocent quiet 13-year old girl with the most lethal digestive tract of all. So in some small, insignificant, and whiny way I can now say that I exist as part of that greatness. She made it clear to me that although I was like a friend to her; I was also a tool, something she can use whenever she wanted. I was at the whims of Miss Britney and all she did and whenever she wanted something from me, I got it, or risk receiving a full face blast of a bean fart, which at this point would put me out for two days. I am her pet, her fart sniffer and her slave until the day she dies, or I die. But it was all worth it, because her farting has increased in strength and power and I felt it a divine privilege to be in the presence of this girl as she experienced this rapid change into a Powerful Farting Powerhouse.

And that was saying it lightly; Miss Britney Rogers was the World’s Deadliest Farter, by far! This 13-year old produced unbelievably poisonous gas. Her farts were always huge, always long and always toxic. She could produce stenches you never knew existed, she could fart for long stretches of time, she could let out thunderous farts that shake her bedroom with relative ease, and she did these on her normal days. When the conditions were right, she could downright kill with her farts. That was the kind of power I appreciated in my new Mistress, the ability to break wind and end the life of a human with it. Her death count was already past 25 and her farts were projected to get much, much bigger. After pondering my life for a few minutes I eventually fell back asleep against the makeshift bed that lied on the floor of her closet. Above me were the various shirts that she would wear to school each day along with one particular black shirt. I enjoyed just being able to touch it, because that black shirt with the white skull represented the moment when Miss Britney crossed over from Powerful Farter to Super-powerful Farter. Heaven help your nose you you’re around when she wears it, but it didn’t adorn her torso at the current moment. Not that would do any good, she ate Mexican for dinner last night and I knew that the morning would bring upon a thunderstorm of her smelliest flatulence.

I was right.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I slowly slid open the brown sliding doors to her closet as I began to feel the floor shake just a little. It wasn’t the massive vibration I have read in some stories about girl’s farting, but it was enough to be a small tremor. Her bed shook a little more as I saw her covers moving up and down as if they were being blasted with a torrent of foul wind, and of course they were. For roughly 30 seconds she was letting out her first grand blast of fart gas of the day and it was a sight to behold. As the loud bubbly fart continued on I continued to take one long breathe after another of my master’s gassy goodness. This was a great fart; drunken grown men couldn’t even start to compete with farts like these, no one could. My heart pounded as I heard this powerful fart being exposed to the world. As it continued I took five long breathes of what smelled like at the very least rotten eggs, cheese, beans. To smell a fart from Miss Britney wasn’t just to smell it, one had to take multiple breaths to really savor the power of it. One could look at this normal looking 13-year old girl and wonder how she could produce such a smell. Dead animals alongside the highway weren’t nearly this bad, but this was gas from a median-build girl who was in the eighth grade. I had to lie there for a moment as my nostrils and lungs and brain tried their best to process this gas and allow for it to take in all the goodness that came with it, since it was coming in such vast quantities. But Miss Britney’s Morning Thunder was well known not just for its power, but it frequency.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another sensational fart left Her behind to much the same effect and this time she actually started moving around in Her covers a bit to show that she was at least aware of Her lethal deposit being left underneath the covers. The smell was as fierce as the first fart and the effect already had my eyes watering from the incredible aroma. For another 30 seconds Miss Britney’s bedroom was the site of what would be some sort of chemical weapon, a war crime on breathable air. There was a reason farts like this one weren’t let out in school and in public. It was a deep bassy sound that got wetter as the fart continued. And after that eruption there was a short silence before the real thunderstorm began!

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More moving around the covers ensured as Miss Britney pushed out another 30-second long stinker of bubbly gas that sounded like a million bubbles popping all at once. This was the thing with Miss Britney’s gas, it was rather consistent and when it came to her Morning Thunder it was almost always ten farts in rather quick succession one after another. Each fart would be loud, range up to about 30 to 45 seconds in length and be in the end really smelly.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There goes another one. The shaking is something that apparently has been apparent the last year or so, though her worst farts always includes some sort of vibration, beyond the usual just-shake-the-area-by-your-bed thing. I counted that she was now at four as she remained lying down in bed, just taking the farts out one by one. This was the last day of the school week which was still tedious for a girl her age, along with her farting around with her video games.

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Another one, that makes five. By this point the haze of putrid gas really is starting to make its mark and it hardly matters where one is in her bedroom or under how many covers of clothing when she lets out her farts, you’re going to smell it. I tried a few times to avoid the smell on some of my original visits to Miss Britney’s room, but eventually I found that they were all fruitless efforts. Anyone who enters her room does so at their own risk. Even her friends have commented on the viciousness of her farts and told me in private a few weeks back that they had no clue how their friend could have such bad farts.

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!

Each fart sounded rather consistent as she lets them out. It’s actually a straight routine at this point with her farts coming out. Sometimes she lets out more farts, sometimes fewer, but ten is the nice round average through it all. Inside the closet it smelled as if ten dogs farted all at once, but in her bedroom it was more like 100 dogs farting at once. People would pass out instantly if they were in my place right now taking a whiff of these farts. Not only were they loud and forceful, but they were downright smelly too, the smell was appalling and had no real equal.

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I heard some moaning as this latest fart left her behind. Now she was getting up in earnest as she was moved her head up from out of her covers, where the stench within the sheets was simply out of this world. I had tried every morning to be able to withstand the smell once she had gone to school, but more on that later. She finally was up with her body still seated on her bed as she leaned her pajama covered ass over to the right and let loose her next beauty.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep, as predicted, this fart was just a little bit longer, now around 40 seconds in length. With Miss Britney fully up she could now focus her attention on releasing the farts with all her might and furry. She saw the door to the closet opened slightly as she knew I had woken up to the full power of her Morning Thunder, I mean how couldn’t I? Miss Britney woke me up whenever her ass woke her up. My clock was set up exactly as she meant it to be. If she went to sleep after 11:00 I went to sleep at that same time and when she got up around 6:00 for school each day, I was up at that time, no exceptions. Her thunderous ass explosions usually woke the entire family up, in other words, everyone was already up with Britney waked up and if not, you were woken up. When you are working for such a young beautiful master such as Miss Britney, you learn to do things her way with no argument whatsoever.

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Another fart, now we are at nine, left her ass as she leaned over to the right and pushed forth yet another vile stinker of immense proportions. One had to truly appreciate the greatness of Miss Britney when they realized just how bad ONE of these farts was. Mexican food, including Miss Britney’s favorite, beans, were festering within her bowels of a Gassy Beast all night and helped to produce a bomb that was unlike anything ever smelt before. A standard Miss Britney Fart smelled ten times worse than the smelliest, biggest and longest fart you have probably smelled before. There was an aura behind it that made it unmatched to anything else. She giggled to herself as she knew what kind of power she held. She began her power with her cousin Brian and shared it now with me, but she knew fully how much more she could exercise her power. Leaning again to her right, about 15 seconds after finishing off that last fart she giggled as the pushed forth the Grand Finale.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!

The fart produced a green fog that was filled with all the smelly, putridness that Miss Britney’s foul wind had to offer. The smell was ripe…too ripe, it burned even me within the closet as I now struggled just a little to withstand the stench. Out from the seat of her pants the fart burned like a warm inferno straight out of hell, especially with the smell of burning brimstone that her farts seemed to have. Rotten eggs would be a proper way to describe the smell if it was coming out of any other person in the world, but with Miss Britney, she had surpassed the rotten egg smell long, long ago. The high quantities of hydrogen sulfide were being mixed in with other chemicals that seemed to have increased the potency of her farts. When Miss Britney told me upon her first meeting that her farts were going to get worse as she aged I didn’t believe her. I thought she had just been exaggerating or that that one-time encounter with her eating ten cans of beans was just that, a one-time event. But no, her farts were much stronger than they were then and the sky was the limit to just how bad her farts were going to get. As the room fell under siege with the hot, sticky and incredibly putrid air that her farts had produced she had a big smile on her face, the smile of victory and with a downright horrendous smell to boost. It was a typical case of Morning Thunder for the Great Miss Britney.

“Good Morning sellcon.” She said looking down at the closet as I slowly opened up the closet to receive the full blast of her morning wind. I nodded my head in a sign of reverence before responding back.

“Good Morning Miss Britney.” And yes, our names were always addressed that way. She was now Miss Britney; I was sellcon, lower-cased as I was under her in every aspect imaginable. Her farts were to be given greater respect than I was and I fully understood that. When you were in the presence of greatness, you appreciated greatness in all its whims and wishes.

She slowly slid off the bed and stood up at her new and improved height of 5’6 and nearly 140 pounds. And despite this rather modest height, she was actually a giant to me. When the two of us first met, I was nearly her height and she was only about 4’9, but in two years she had gained seven inches, while my height has remained the same, I was never a tall person, even a normal-sized person, but at least I wasn’t a dwarf. Actually, it makes everything more exciting for me really. I want to be there to give Miss Britney undivided attention and respect and having her be bigger than me helped. She towered over me really, a solid seven inches taller with probably 20 more pounds to boost. Who was once a short girl compared to me was by all accounts much bigger, with room to grow. At the age of 13 now Miss Britney was certainly starting to mature into a young lady with puberty hitting her pretty well.

She quickly took off her blue top piece to her pajamas to reveal a light pink bra covering her pretty substantial 34 D cup breasts. Only two years ago there was nothing in that category, but like her farts it seemed that those were getting bigger as well. Her breasts were quite spectacular for a girl her age. Her mother was pretty well-endowed too and even her sisters weren’t bad themselves, so I can imagine that would be where Miss Britney got her beautiful looks. But that wasn’t what I was waiting for. She then slipped off the pink pajama pants to reveal a piece of white cotton underwear that encased her also-growing butt. Almost at bubble butt status now her ass stuck out about six inches off of her back. When I first sniffed her butt it was a pretty respectable size compared to my face, now, it was downright enormous. But that was from my scale. Her ass was nice and bubbly, the kind of butt a 13-year old would love to have and with the titanic butt blasts she released on a daily basis it’s the kind of ass she deserves. This was typical as Miss Britney was about to use the bathroom to take a dump and a shower. She threw the pajamas over in my direction to allow for my “inspection.”

“Those felt pretty good….though normal I must admit. I thought Mexican food would have done worse last night.” She stood there as I got up and slowly displayed my size-based inferioness to her. This was the kind of stuff that made me acknowledge that perhaps these things were always meant to be like this, I was always meant to serve her. My eye sight peered into the young developing girl’s cleavage. The region in between her growing breasts made me a little hard a bit, as sickening of a thought that was, but I was quickly brought back to the outrageous stench of her flatulence hovering over the area. After getting a quick sight between her mammary pillows I looked up at the bleach-blond haired girl’s face and remarked about an observation of mine from earlier. In my soft and pathetically weak voice I said.

“I thought you may have farted in your sleep a couple of times.”

“Oh I may have, but since most of mine are silent then it couldn’t possibly be heard. I’ll be back.” She said giggling as she trotted out of her room and toward the bathroom. I never ventured with her into the bathroom, at least when she was using it, that was one of the rules. I could never see her naked and I could never see her take a dump. Miss Britney’s dumps were sometimes pretty spectacular in and of themselves. She was more known for her extreme bouts of gas but when the conditions hit her she could drop a hefty load into the toilet, creating a smoldering wave of stink that could take an hour or two to fully dissipate. When she clogged a toilet it was my responsibility to clean the bathroom up after her use. But other than that, I cleaned up the bathroom as if it were just another room. Miss Britney was able to claim the upstairs bathroom as her own despite her parents and two sisters also living on that floor. The sisters usually used the downstairs bathroom while their parents had a small bathroom attached to their bedroom; this effectively gave Miss Britney her own private john.

These all helped to continue my growing admiration of her overall power. It was the fact that she blasted out these massive farts one after another that made them quite frightening. I trembled before her power, I made myself to serve her and thanked my lucky stars for each day in which I was in per presence. If anyone else had been releasing farts like she had that morning, it would have been a cause for alarm. You’d be wanting them to go to the hospital or something for that, but Miss Britney treated it as normally as possible. The long, loud farts were all standard for her and the barf-inducing, awe-inspiring and heavily-powerful stench was just normal for her. She took great pride in the fact that she knew that what to her seemed like regular farts would have taken out a whole room of people after smelling only a few seconds of it. That’s what was cool about Miss Britney, she commanded and held great power and treated it as if it were something quite regular.

Back in her bedroom I looked down at my feet to see the pink pajama bottoms for Miss Britney’s nightwear. I held up the article of clothing and quickly found the seat of her pants and looked at the wrinkled up zone of death that hovered around them. It was another morning ritual but one I was always looking forward to. I pressed the back of her pajamas all over my face as I started to smell the putrid aftermath of her Morning Thunder. In one word it was powerful, beyond powerful even. It had a very strong sulfur smell with at was well as the stench of skunks. Through the years I have learned that the skunk smell wasn’t just hyperbole, it was quite literal. For a while she was able to get away with farting in the family vehicle by saying that they had just passed a skunk, but they were on to her now and she had to hold it in more. Her pajama pants felt nice and warm from the steamy sensation of her farting. I always tried to find words to describe the experience but he could not find any, there weren’t any to really tell the story of the euphoria I felt every time I smelled the raw power of her farts. After about 30 seconds of experiencing her gas on her pajama pants I took them down and looked over at the unmade bed.

Now the smell there was a whole different ballpark, so much so that I refused to venture there, at least this early after her Morning Thunder. She produced so much gas in there, plus her occasional farting through the night, that the mere thought of smelling the gas that laid beneath the covers was unheard of. Miss Britney had recently acquired a king-size bed through my help and it fit her body quite well, being a bit big on her. Still, it required a lot of spreads to cover it and beneath those covers right now laid dormant the most heinous smelling thing ever conceived by man, or woman in this case, and that was hardly an exaggeration. Five times I tried to smell the recent aftermath of her Morning Thunder only minutes after she had released it and five times have I passed out, gone for at least two hours from coming too close to the destruction. While my heart pounded at the possibility that I may survive today’s encounter, I ended up bypassing it yet again. I would smell it later on after I dropped her off at school, and even then the smell was going to be very strong.

And then began my 30-minute waiting period within her bedroom, still stinking up to high heaven of the ramifications of Miss Britney’s Morning Thunder. It was going to smell most of the day just from that outburst, that was the true severity of her farting. She released such long farts at loud piercing sounds and with such deadly gaseous smells. Her bedroom was her fortress for keeping in such smells and it was where I spent the majority of my day. Still, to be in the palace of this young Goddess, I knew that it was a worthy choice. Miss Britney finally entered the bedroom sometime just before 7:00 all dried up but still wearing her bra and panties and ordered me to walk to her dresser and fetch a pair of pants for the day. All folded up and washed over the weekend, there were about ten pair of blue jeans, all roughly the same size and all. Asking her to see which one would be right on her, an easy choice since they were all about the same; she selected on and ordered me to put the pants on her.

She would slip her legs through their individual slots on the pair of deep blue jeans and have me pull the pants up from the belt loops as I moved the pair up her growing pair of legs and increasingly-protruding buttocks. It was there for a moment I wondered if the next batch of gas was going to leave her ass right then and there. That only added to Miss Britney’s power, her penchant for releasing majority SBDs throughout the day, and those smelled worse than her loud bubbly Morning Thunder farts. Luckily for me, she spared my life at that moment and allowed me to finish buttoning up her pants before selecting a pink shirt with the top two buttons removed to showcase her rather impressive cleavage to start attracting boys. Her sisters were both attractive girls my age and her mother was a bit of a looker herself, it was only right that Miss Britney was going to grow into a very attractive girl. Of course she cared less about her looks (beyond the shirt I suppose) and was more into listening to her music or playing her video games, and farting. After putting on some kind of product to make her smell decent, only masking away a little of the atrocious aroma that still hovered in her bedroom we both left as it was time for breakfast.

I walked into the kitchen, which had already been used by Miss Britney’s parents earlier. They both went to work early so it was always Miss Britney and myself there for breakfast. I took out the box of Fiber One cereal and grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator and poured them together to produce a bowl of cereal for my master. Both were horrible food choices for a girl with such destructive flatulence, but it wasn’t like I could hardly say no to her, after all smelling those farts were always the highlight of my life. Luckily for me, Miss Britney was producing more of her flatulence these days than even when I met her. Back then she was letting out around 30 farts on average, now she was batting in up to 50, and those farts were bigger, longer and smellier than the ones when I was first introduced to her. The two of us sat down as she looked at her phone and laid out the agenda for that day as she ate her first of what would be three bowls of the cereal. There was also her lactose intolerance too to consider, so she drank a glass of milk in addition.

“Obviously the usual this morning, clean my room, wash any of the items of clothing that need to be washed. Ask my parents later on but I think I might need some more food, so I’ll provide a list after school on that account. Let’s see, what else is there…..” She pondered for a moment as I thought about any other requests she had for me. Sometimes the daily routine got really boring as it was the same day in and day out, it sucked when Britney was at school, with the weekends being for more interesting as I got to enjoy more of her farts. “….no I’m afraid that’s about it. I guess you can play some of the games on the TV if your chores are complete. There’s a little food for you for lunch. Just don’t mess with any of my levels, I made some progress last night in my game and I don’t want any of that screwed with. If you do, I’ll eat some beans and make sure you’ll be out till next week.” She said giggling as she padded her stomach and continued her food. It had been a while since I last smelled a bean fart from her, well the Mexican food farts didn’t count as much, although they were all bad. Her normal farts were now about as bad as her bean farts were from when I first met her and her bean farts now….well there was a reason that Miss Britney’s count of “knocked-out people’ was now up at 400.

Soon I grabbed her pink backpack and loaded it with the necessary supplies as I handed it over to Miss Britney and we walked to my vehicle parked in the driveway. It was a modest looking white sedan with leather seats and the standard gadgets and gizmos for a car. I already knew what was going to happen once we locked the doors and I started up the car for the 10-minute drive to Miss Britney’s middle school. She gave a smile on her face as she looked over to me as I started up the car. I had to make a choice right then and there, but first I had to see if I could handle it.

Miss Britney sat herself comfortably in the passenger seat of my car as I heard a little giggle from her, right on schedule I thought. There was absolutely no sound, but I knew what was happening, Miss Britney was pushing into the seat a deep and powerful SBD, as silent as possible and as deadly in stench as her previous farts. My passenger seat was scared the first time her cute girlish butt sat upon it and has remained scared ever since. The cereal and milk sure had an impact on this 13-year old’s digestive system as evident from wicked smell being inflicted on the seat. Slowly I started to head out of the driveway as the deadly smell of Miss Britney’s SBD gas continued to compound by the second, multiplying faster than anyone would have thought possible, and the worst part was that she was still releasing it; no nose could survive the damage of a fart of this magnitude.

The air inside the vehicle got warmer as the air got smellier and smellier. It was an utterly devastating stink of rotten eggs and crap mixed in with dog and skunk and any other useful descriptor of a bad smell. The back window fogged up a little from the warm gas as it flowed all around every corner of the car, helping to produce a fog of Miss Britney-produced flatulence within the car. The smell continued to strengthen in its pungency by the second as Miss Britney finished off this massive fart and sat back down, basking in the utter bomb that she had unleashed. It was far from her biggest fart of the day; lasting well over a minute in length, but it was almost average for her. But then came the challenging part, me trying to keep from gagging from the puke-inducing stench of Miss Britney’s fart. She laughed a little at my attempt to keep from suffering from the gas. There I thought about my options, I could continue to breathe the rapidly worsening gas in my car for another 12 minutes and hope that I get all green lights and cut the trip down a few minutes, or I can….

“Fuck it!” I said as I rolled down both windows and allowed for the amazingly foul stench to vacate the car, or at least start to vacate, Miss Britney’s farts were notorious among all other things for their ridiculously long hang times. My car was going to smell well after I arrived back home from taking her to school. She looked at her watch and saw that it took me less time to give up on being in her hot box of stinky farts than it took for her to release the monster. But if you had been there and smelled that powerful fart, fetish or not, you would not have hesitated to roll down the windows.

“You know what that means.” She said in a cute girly voice. I dreaded my decision to roll the windows down, not because it wasn’t an option, but because the option could only be used ONCE per day. I would often take Miss Britney around in my car more than four times per day and I only had the one “get-out-of-the-gas-chamber-free” card. And stupidly like I always did, I used it the first available time. And this was a normal fart for her too, that was the worst part of it all.

We continued for another ten minutes as I was fortunate to get two of the three traffic lights on the way to her school to go green. That Mexican food had to be morphing with her milk and cereal because the remainder of these farts, probably about five of them just on that car ride alone were all viciously putrid. She would continue to giggle as she felt the lukewarm air from outside try to combat the heated blasts of super-smelly flatulence within the vehicle. As it was most of the time, her gas was winning. Windows down in the vehicle only meant part of the gas was going to go away, there was always going to be a part of Miss Britney’s fart that would hang around. Hell, I’ve thrown up a couple of times upon returning home from dropping Miss Britney off at school, and that was WITH the windows down.

The Car Farts from Miss Britney were as notoriously bad as everything else about her Farting. When I had first asked her about whether or not she passed gas in cars I was given a definite yes. She only did it in the company of family members and friends, who had been used enough to her gas. The thing with Miss Britney’s farts was that you could only get “used” to it for so long. Her farts were steadily getting worse and you were still going to suffer from smelling her gas, but at least you wouldn’t pass out. She was pretty adamant about not eating beans and then going into cars, fearing that the driver would pass out from sniffing one of those farts and to her credit she had not eaten beans and farted in a vehicle before. Still, the power of Miss Britney’s Car Farts was that even with the windows down the smell would only be half gone. Parents of some of Miss Britney’s friends had bitched about the fact that the stench from Miss Britney’s gassy episodes in their vehicle would stay in the cars for several hours after they had transported Miss Britney around. It was hardly a surprise then that few of them offered rides anymore; leaving me to be the primary mode of transportation for anywhere that Miss Britney wanted to go. Given my slave status I naturally obliged.

I dropped Miss Britney off at the curb as she grabbed her backpack and made it out of the vehicle as if she were just like any of the other normal school kids. As she left she said something that made me a little fearful about coming events.

“You better keep your phone on all day. All I have to say is that you are gonna regret rolling down the windows this morning.” She said with a nice smirk on her face as she closed the passenger seat door and walked off and up the steps into the main entrance of the elementary school. From my angle she looked like every other girl that was walking into that school. But I knew better, that’s what made me like it, to see her and know that inside her bowels brewed a chemical laboratory that even the top scientists were still trying to figure out, producing gas that at any minute could be unleashed, taking out countless people. But luckily for them, Miss Britney was a bit sympathetic to the plights of innocent students at the mercy of her bad gas. One such story involved Miss Britney eating beans and drinking milk for three days straight, just to see how bad her gas could be. She entered her chemistry classroom and produced a five-minute long SBD that killed the other students, that’s right, she killed them. Miss Britney killed some 20 students with one of her Silent But Deadly Farts. If anyone lived up to the SBD acronym, it was Miss Britney. God that girl had power!

Back in my smelly car, I leaned back in my seat for a moment as I took in the noxious aroma of the gas she had left in the vehicle. My car was going to smell all day; three SBDs roughly one-minute in length being produced from the volatile bowels of Miss Britney were a combustible combination, leaving a vapor that made all the smelliest animals in the world jealous. Skunks would be afraid of the ghastly aromas that Miss Britney produced. And I drove back to her house for the 12-minute trip in the hot box gas chamber that my master had left for me. It was times like these that made me proud that I gracefully served Miss Britney.

I returned to find the home empty as normal. My first stop, as it often was, was Miss Britney’s Bathroom. It was a small bathroom, enough room for a sink, a toilet and a small shower. It was as soon as I walked into the room that I was attacked by the wicked noxious aroma of her morning dump. Miss Britney was kind enough to flush the toilet, as she usually did, but the smell lingered on, she made sure not to clean the air up or anything, knowing that I was going to do that anyway. It was an overpowering smell that overtook me for a moment before he finally regained his strength and began to take it all in. Despite no presence of actual crap in the toilet bowl, it was still a strong smell; the girl did let off a fart or two in there after all. I can say in all honesty that the smell of Miss Britney’s bathroom, more than an hour after she had taken her morning dump and after she had flushed said dump down the toilet was still ten times greater than anything that wafted out of the gassiest known human outside of Miss Britney’s rear end. It was a great testament to the girl’s incredible bowels. As promptly as I could, I got the air freshener, always in great abundance there in the house and sprayed it around as I lit some scented candles. Even with those in place it would be another hour before the smell was finally gone. I then went on to clean her sink up, the toilet, wipe the seat down and sweep and mop the floor, giving my 13-year old Master the bathroom she deserves.
I looked around the house and saw various things that looked like they needed cleaning, things that Britney, being the only child in the household at the time with her sisters’ absence, would have done. Dutifully however, I did them for her. I started with the kitchen and the living room and quickly had all dishes cleaned, floors swept and mopped and living room straightened up in less than 30 minutes. It was that sort of thing anyway since I had it down to a routine to the point. Sometimes I would do it more slowly to speed up the day. Quite easily the seven hours that Miss Britney were gone each day was the most depressing for me. Her parents were….okay, with my presence in the household, but for the most part I stayed out of their way. I would remain in Miss Britney’s Bedroom most of the time actually, where I can enjoy the smell of her god-awful farts. After quickly cleaning out the bathroom, I moved on into her bedroom and my daily trip with destiny, my trial for the day.

The air inside her bedroom was still dirty and thick, Miss Britney’s Morning Thunder was always a thing of beauty and the pungent aroma it created was incredible. When I said Miss Britney’s Farting hang times were incredibly long I was hardly exaggerating. Most people’s farts hang times would be a minute or two, the worst I had ever smelled before Miss Britney was about five minutes. But Miss Britney would circumnavigate that by leaps and bounds with every one of her farts. One fart by itself, with her eating “normal” non-gas-producing foods would produce a fart that lasted for about an hour. After eating gassy foods, well you might as well double that, and with her eating Mexican last night I had a feeling the air would still be smelly from the Morning Thunder.

I saw her covers lying haphazardly across her bed, she hardly bothered to make her bed, since it was my job in the first place, but in order to make her bed I had to grab the covers and underneath the covers was suppressed a far more hazardous form of gas than what was flying around the room. Most of the gas from the Morning Thunder hung around underneath her cover. So as much as I dreaded this ritual, I hoped that it would make me stronger to withstand her fart. Shrugging my shoulders and moving on to her bed where the zone of stink only grew stronger I looked down on the cover and decided that it was best just to throw it off the bed and watch the gas attack me. I proceeded to do just that and was immediately blind sighted with the raw gastric remnants of her gas!

It was a strong sewage like smell that seeped out from underneath the warm dark blue covers that covered Miss Britney’s body so well. I had back away nearly to the door of the room at first as the stench viciously attacked my nostrils with something that was unbelievable to smell. The smell of a real fart from Miss Britney had no true descriptors. I had taken it to calling it the Britney Smell, or now the Miss Britney Smell. The MRS mixed in the worst of dead animals, burning garbage, skunks and dogs along with rotten eggs, moldy cheese and weeks-old hard boiled eggs. Sure all of these items put together to produce an aroma could be viewed as something unbelievable, but there was actually some scientific basis for it. Miss Britney had showed me a lab report from her last trip to the doctor’s office where someone was brought in to “analyze” the stench. This was the list of things they had said that actively described the various components of the MRS. Of course there were the usual chemical components that one could look up on the internet, but this list was better at actively describing. You know your gas is bad however when “dairy barn” is one of the main descriptors.

The doctors at the medical facility that had examined Miss Britney’s gas soon after her 11th birthday had sought to create some sort of scale to measure her gas. It was a simple 1 to 10 scale. On the wall a sheet would read that indicated what each level meant. I looked at the sheet to review the levels before making a nice sniff myself to determine what it was. A look at the various stages of Britney’s gassiness really helped to install just how impressive her gas truly was, you had to appreciate such greatness when you got there. The levels were judged by the length of her butt bombs, the amount of time someone could be knocked out, and amount of time the fart’s smell hung around in the room and any additional bits including her impact to her room or nearby rooms. When judging rooms we used her bedroom as a basis for comparison. The length was something that wasn’t always clocked out specifically but I usually had a habit of counting the seconds to see just how massive the bombs really were. You were watching someone special when you were in Miss Britney’s room. You were watching the gassiest person on Earth bar none. No one could even get to half of her strength and the one other person who could compete on that level was her best friend, another 13-year old, named Hannah Voreger.

In a more described way, L1 farts were ten times worse than nearly all humans could muster up normally, except for Hannah perhaps. If another human could muster up an L1 than it could be their best fart in their life. L2s and L3s stunk her bedroom up pretty good, filling the room with a smell that generally hung around for up to 15 minutes, still better than anyone could produce. Once you got up to L4 stage, her farts were now pushing a minute in length and now people were starting to become unconscious for a few minutes. Those were strong room clearers that could now empty out much larger spaces. Gymnasiums and stores were common for this effect. Miss Britney’s brought more people into unconscioness than hospitals have done before someone goes into surgery. Hannah’s highest level is typically at this stage. Past the L5 and L6 level and her farts start to get dangerous. People are out now for up to 30 minutes with the fart stench hanging around for a full hour, and that’s one fart mind you, multiple farts and it will stink all day. L7 is when her fart starts affecting your biological system, severe irritation to the eyes and nose and burns on your face if it’s in the wrong place. At L8, she can strip wallpaper and make people unconscious for hours. L9 farts are longer than three minutes in length, past the current world record and she starts emptying out entire wings of buildings, if not buildings themselves. Then there’s the L10, her worst fart. A foul fart of such severity that people can be out for days and the fart’s killer aroma puts chemical and biological weapons to shame. These are the farts that she uses to kill and it’s feared that she will continue to produce more and more of these, putting more humans into a permanent sleep based on the gases that seep out of her cute 13-year old bubble butt.

The scale was used to make a record of a lot of the farts that Miss Britney would cut. The system worked similar to measuring tornadoes. Often one couldn’t record the time of each fart since she farted for so much and for so long that counting soon became tiresome, so measuring the strength of the fart using the chart was a better idea. A quick recollection of that earlier Morning Thunder had indicated to me that Miss Britney had probably reached an L5 or L6 on her scale. The scale considered how long the smell remained in her room, how long it could knock people out and how long the fart was, plus the fart’s overall ability to stink things up. Miss Britney had reached L10 only a few times ever and was usually above an L1 for the most part. On average she would be an L4 or L5. It had been hypothesized the existence of an L11, the next stage beyond an L10 fart. That would have to be epic, massive beyond reason with a stench so powerful that only laboratories with various chemicals could produce such a smell, that and Miss Britney. I called it the Britney Death Fart. The fart could be so strong that it could last for ten full minutes, knock people out for a week and produce a hang time that lasted a full day. I could only imagine that, a Miss Britney Fart so strong that the smell remained there for an entire day? She already had plenty of hour-long hang times that’s for sure; Miss Britney was a powerful farter!

I did have a great tolerance for her farts, at least since I’ve first met her. I used to live close to an interstate highway and grew a tolerance for the consistent highway noise. Soon, it was only when the road was quiet that I was a little off with my sound reception. The same thing happened with Miss Britney’s gas, at first the smells and sounds were too much to handle, as with most people but over time I grew a greater appreciation and some of her more weaker or even moderate blasts would go unnoticed by me, even if they knocked out a dozen people in the process. Only her big ones would really cause some trouble with me. Her L7 farts and above were still capable of making me pass out and that was hardly going to change. I had survived the first 30 seconds in the aura of the superhuman flatus that hung around the room from removing the covers, but now I wanted to take a whiff of the bed and sniff it itself, that was where the stench would be the absolute strongest, so pushed into the sheets that clearing them would get rid of a large portion, but not all, of the smell’s raw power. You would have thought that a smell wouldn’t carry as much of a power as it did with the MRS, but I was wrong as usual. I quickly moved onto her bed and went up to the matching dark blue sheets that were still covering the bed and took a nice whiff of the gruesomely foul-smelling gas. I was out in four seconds.

I woke up on the floor, probably in the same spot where I always wake up and it was just after 10:30, just like always too. I looked up and saw that the smell was slowly going away; it was now bearable to do anything in Miss Britney’s bedroom. I had a bit of a headache so I went to get some water before venturing back into my master’s bedroom and collecting the sheets, covers and pillowcases along with an assortment of clothes put inside a hamper at the corner of her room. This girl went through a lot of clothes and fabrics as she grew up, and my considerable funding to her helped in that regard. Her bedsheets would have to be replaced almost monthly from the constant bombardment and disintegration due to her considerable flatulence.  Her shirts had to be replaced because she was a growing spurt and her above-average bust had an ability to strain out her shirt fabrics sooner than they should have. Her jeans and shorts likewise fell victim to her growing ass, and some of her larger farts were known to create holes in them. There were items of clothes that I saw now that I probably won’t be seeing in a few months. I took out the few articles of clothing that were in there, a shirt or two from yesterday, some blue jeans as well as some other undergarments.

I held up a pair of panties from yesterday and took a quick look at them. Needless to say, Miss Britney destroyed her underwear. I picked up the underwear, a pretty decent size for a girl her age, they were more the underwear of a 16-year old but Miss Britney had a big ole caboose. I looked around the pair for a moment to find where her asshole would have been positioned. I finally found the spot, a zone of brown coloring spread itself for a distance of about six inches across the back of her underwear. It’s wasn’t necessary crap, just burnt up fabric from the awesome heat and power of her farts. This was the pair she wore yesterday; I could hardly even begin to handle what she had on last night. I looked closely and saw two very small holes forming around her butthole, which were fairly common. With rippers the size of Miss Britney’s she put holes in her panties a few times a week. She would wear them out as long as she could but it was very common for me to be taking her panty shopping every two weeks. That was the life-expectancy for a pair of Miss Britney’s underwear and that was only if she used them to full usage. Finally, I took in a whiff and my mind went into a state of haze for a moment. It wasn’t as incredibly strong as her bedsheets, but the heinously smelly gas of yesterday’s farting remained. A trip through the washer would get rid of everything but the new color and the holes, but a moment, to smell gas like that. On a normal person, this would be the smell of your underwear after you had just farted but to Miss Britney, it was that strong almost a full day afterwards. To smell some of her underwear after she had just farted was more or less a death wish.

After throwing the panties into the pile with the other clothes I examine another article of clothing that was among my better ideas. A pair of black short athletic shorts, which when on her covered only her buttocks and little else, stood out amidst the rest of the clothes. The shorts were my idea for her 13th birthday, along with my servitude, and she immediately loved it. It was the back of her shorts that called attention to people. At the top was the black shirt with a white skull that matched her now famous shirt which she wore whenever she ate beans. Below that were, in white red letters, the words “THIS BUTT CAN STOP YOUR HEART!” The catchphrase was a warning to all those who ventured to get anywhere close to her butt as the number referred to the number of people who had been knocked out by her farts could attest to. Miss Britney prided herself in her farts and she had every right to do so. She had something more than a gift; it was a power, a super power. It wasn’t every day you saw a young teen wearing a pair of shorts like this and think that her butt could really stop her heart but Miss Britney’s done if before. Killing people wasn’t a new thing, though she obviously didn’t do it on purpose on the time. The incident at school with the 19 dead students was an accident, I think. The whole thing was pushed off as some sort of chemical accident that was the result of the wrong chemicals being mixed in. It was never explained how Miss Britney escaped but she explained that she was the closest to the door. Not that she feels are great deal of remorse however, her butt did stop hearts that day, it could still do mine someday.

As I gathered her clothes, I also came across the pair of pink pajama bottoms that she had worn. This gave me another wonderful idea, at least in my head it sounded wonderful to anyone else it would sound disgusting. I took off my own pair of pants and stood only in my underwear. I saw the pink pajamas, now probably three hours or so past her Morning Thunder. I first went to get another whiff of the bottoms of her pants and amazingly, the smell was still in there. It wasn’t incredibly strong, not like her sheets anyway, but you could still smell her rotten egg-smelling gas impressed onto the pants. Then I decided to do something a bit radical, I slipped the pants up my own legs just to see for a moment what it was like to wear her pajamas. They were bagging on my smaller frame, even if Miss Britney was more than five years younger than me, the bottom half of her body from the waist down was larger. I barely was able to keep the pajamas on me without them falling down. Still, it was an incredible feeling, I felt more of that warmth of these pants hugging Miss Britney’s body as she slept last night and even get a whiff or two of her overpowering gas. It was only for a minute before I pulled them down and slipped my own pants back on. It was another reminder of the power that girl held over me. She had JUST turned 13, was still a middle school student and the youngest in her household, but even she had bigger pants than me. Slowly I felt myself shrinking, metaphorically of course, to the greater beauty of this gassy girl. She could probably still gain a few inches, some more weight and a bubblier ass and bigger breasts, she was already greater than me and there was room for that to increase.

I proceeded then to throw all her clothes into the washer machine and continue with picking up various items in the bedroom and putting them back into their various locations. Various video game covers were lying about so those had to be put back into their proper spots, except for the one that she was playing at the moment, I was probably going to play a little of it after lunch. After washing her sheets and covers and making her bed I swept the floor and considered today’s job of cleaning her room complete. Naturally, Miss Britney always had a clean bedroom; it was just that smell that was a problem. Two tall fans stood at opposite corners of her bedroom for those times when she would get really gassy. I couldn’t tell you the number of times that she would bring friends into her room to play games with and they wouldn’t emerge until around midnight on weekend nights. They always complained of the same thing, some sort of headache, as if they had been passed out by another one of Miss Britney’s farts. Her friends were quite used to the gas, but it was still hardly more than a week’s time from the last time they fell victim to her gas. I may never fully understand how they can stand her farts, but I suspect it is because she’s willing to take care of some of their “pests” by unleashing her weapon upon them.

Lunch time came I had a modest lunch consisting of a sandwich with some food in the refrigerator. It was a standard lunch for me and easily my quietest meal of the day. I was fed pretty well in the household of Miss Britney, but it the girl herself who was easily the best fed. When I first met her she had eaten ten cans of beans in one night to produce some awful farts, leagues higher than anything she’s letting out now even. The girl simply eats a lot, she must have some sort of high metabolism, but more than likely it was that Chemical R working within her system. I was told by her parents at one time that the chemical helped her to both take in more food and to break it down into the toxic gases that emerge from her behind. There was no reason for why her production of this Chemical R would lead to her gas being as fierce as it was, but I was happy for it. As I ate my meal I pondered my existence, as I did often every day. Yes the work was grueling if not tedious at times and this time without my Master was never good, but I still think I had made the right decision. I would die for Miss Britney and her gas. I was willing to deny my life everything just to serve Miss Britney and you know what? I don’t regret it all, at least yet. She’s a beautiful young girl with a lot to look forward too and gas worse than anyone animal alive on the planet, I’m privileged just to be able to be in her presence every day.  

I looked at my cell phone and waited for the time for which I could pick Miss Britney up from school. Having finished all my tasks for the first half of the day I sat on top of the bed that Miss Britney had the pleasure of resting her gassy body and began playing a video game, expecting to make it through at least a level before having to pause it and get ready to pick up my queen from middle school on what I thought was going to be a normal day. But it turned out that this Friday was going to be far from ordinary when I got the phone call at 1:45 in the afternoon.

“sellcon….it’s me Britney. You can pick me up at school now.” She said as I double checked the time to make sure it was accurate. I normally didn’t pick her up until 3:00.

“You sure?”

“Oh yes….wait for me at the curb, at our usual location…just be careful for the paramedics out there.” She laughed a little as she quickly hung up, quickly so I wasn’t able to answer the obvious question, why were there paramedics. I soon found out.

I quickly hopped into my car and drove out to Miss Britney’s middle school along my normal path. It became quite apparent that something was up at her school as I approached the building and saw a line of cars with concerned parents waiting for their kids. School buses were already on the scene to transport over 1,000 students away from the building as I saw two fire trucks and three ambulances in the school parking lot. A couple of men walked out wearing those yellow biohazard suits, the same kinds you see when there is some sort of chemical spill at an industrial site. As I neared the actually entrance right where I normally picked up Miss Britney I saw a little fog hover around the front of the building. My heart was pounding as I instantly knew what was happening: Miss Britney had farted in school!

Three minutes upon arrival at the school I saw the creator herself walk outside with her backpack and the smile that told me only one thing: she was guilty. The one who smelt it surely must have dealt it and she was never shy about her gas. After all, she had imprinted on her shorts the (now outdated) number of people who had fallen victim to her gas. As she opened up the passenger seat door I started to smell the wretched flatus that hung around her body as she continued to smile as I closed the door. I was going to sit there for a minute before heading out she looked outside and saw the remnants of her damage. It was an impressive site and now I had to know what had happened?

“I have a story to tell you.” She said with that gleaming smile as I looked forward to every word out of her mouth. Miss Britney had a way of telling stories; it was a tormenting sort of thing that always left out the most detailed descriptions for me. That was important since I was also a slave writer for her as well. I wrote numerous stories about the great adventures of Miss Britney the Farter. She would only give me snippets here and there and I had to fill in the rest, questioning her for various facts and figures about her farts. She always said less than I wanted to really sell her powers to those who read my stories, but I found a way to truly tale the greatness of her farts. Of course, once I became her slave, I could experience more than enough of her farts where I didn’t have to ask anymore, I already knew her power. Still, there were situations like at school where I had to probe her on what happen and imagine the horror of the scene that took place inside that innocent red-bricked building. A massacre took place in that school today, but it wasn’t of the shooting variety, it was just a 13-year old girl with gas problems.