Boss's Orders (male Fart/burp Fetish Story/fanfic)

Boss's Orders (male fart/burp fetish story/fanfic)

hii everyone this is my first public fetish story I'm posting. this character (Cyrus) is not an OC he is from the P0ke/m0n series (I do NOT need this showing up in main tags/general searches haha). please enjoy this story of a repressed and uptight man losing all control of his ability to hold in his gas

Cyrus had no particular fondness for coffee; in fact, he found the taste to be quite repulsive, though he’d never let it show. It was something he drank to function, purely to fuel the machine that was his often-ailing body. As such, it was always supposed to be black coffee. He wasn’t the type of man to do things for “fun” or “enjoyment,” which were vague and sentimental concepts he simply did not have time to deal with. He didn’t need sugar, milk, or creamer; he drank his coffee as it came.

…That, and he happened to be absurdly lactose intolerant. It frustrated him immensely; yet another way in which he was painfully human and so far from the perfect ideal he sought. He usually didn’t have much trouble avoiding dairy, though a familiar and unwelcome bubbling in his stomach made him feel as though he hadn’t been diligent enough.

He shifted uncomfortably in his office chair at Team Galactic HQ. His stomach was softly gurgling, making him thankful he was so particular about his office’s isolation from the rest of the building.

Fuck. That moronic grunt I allowed to fetch me coffee must have made some executive decision to add creamer, he thought to himself, scowling as his discomfort grew.

Why would someone do that? Why were people so stupid and presumptuous?

Cyrus sighed and rested his head in his hands, his frustration quickly interrupted by a surging cramp in his abdomen. At first, he tried to ignore it, keeping his hands and mind busy by focusing on writing his next speech. He wasn’t a child; he could keep his bodily functions at bay without issue. Another sharp cramp rung through his lower body and he found one of his hands tentatively massaging his aching stomach, finding it far more bloated than usual. 

He angrily stood up and locked his office door, his stomach audibly complaining about the sudden movement. The last thing people needed to hear was him in such a vulnerable state. It was unbecoming of him. 

He tried to resume his task but quickly found himself wrapping both arms around his stomach, head on his desk. “Mmnh….” Although the cool surface felt nice on his sweaty face, he let out a soft groan of pain as his insides worked themselves into knots. Righting his posture and forcing himself upright, he tried to set his sights on typing the concluding thoughts of his speech, still able to hear his gurgling stomach over the sounds of the keypresses.

A sudden cramp came that was too intense for him to fight against; though he tried, tensing his muscles so as to not give into his weakness, his body had other plans. Unable to take it any longer, he involuntarily relaxed and let out a forceful, long, wet fart, one that made him sigh in relief. 

How shameful.

It was a disgusting feeling, to be so controlled by his body in this way. He attempted to stand up to open a window to rid himself of the foul odor but found another drawn-out fart bubbling out of him, so desperate he couldn’t hold it back as it filled the room with a sulfurous smell.

Whatever. He would simply resume his duties as any responsible adult would. When needed, he would provide himself relief, if that’s what it took to get his work done.

As he got back to typing, he felt a sharp cramp as his stomach lurched. He didn’t need to apply much pressure to let out a deep, ringing burp, one that made his throat hurt a bit from the sheer force of it. Anticipating another, he placed a hand over his mouth as a belch rose up from the depths of his body, muffled by his palm. Sighing, he closed his eyes, feeling shame and humiliation burn through him. “...Absolutely disgusting,” he quietly commented to nobody in particular.

The smells his body was producing at this point were foul. Entirely unable to restrain his gut from tightening and clenching, a soft, bubbly fart practically leaked out of him, filling his pants with an eggy stench. Perhaps even more mortifying than the gas itself was the sheer amount of relief it was bringing Cyrus to release it; on most occasions, he used every once of his willpower to hold back any eructations or flatulence indefinitely. To be so utterly at the mercy of his body made him feel powerless and weak, but releasing the painful pressure building up inside him was bordering on euphoric.

Taking a momentary break from typing to lean to one side, he let out a bassy fart with a finish just slightly too wet to make him feel comfortable. Another cramp hit him and forced a huge airy fart out of his hole; he let out a contented sigh of relief when it finally finished.

Every part of this disgusted him, especially the warm, damp feeling that was starting to fill the back of his briefs from the moisture of his farts. He was worried he’d need a change of underwear before the day came to a close. Hell, he might from the smell alone. But goddamnit, he’d vowed to complete his tasks at any cost. Nothing so trivial as an upset stomach would interrupt his duties.

As he set himself back to work on writing his speech, his face was burning hot from embarrassment, even though he was alone. Cyrus had always been particularly shy about his bodily functions, especially those deemed more…impolite in nature. What, was he really so weak as to lose control over his bowels, like he was a child? Regardless, even when he tried to hold back his gas, he soon found it erupting out of him, hot searing farts hissing out of him for upwards of ten seconds at a time, rendering the office air nearly unbreathable.

He pressed a fist to his mouth to stifle another loud belch, before furrowing his brow in frustration. A quick assessment of his midsection revealed him to be no less bloated than before, perhaps even moreso despite the massive amount of gas he’d managed to expel. I despise this. This is no way for a leader to conduct himself, he thought as he tentatively unbuttoned his pants and unbuckled his belt, allowing his swollen gut some relief. As revolting as this was, it’d also be best if it was over as fast as possible, and perhaps that required some encouragement on Cyrus’s behalf.

Trying to apply firm pressure to his tender abdomen, he took his fingertips and began massaging his stomach. Forcing his gas in certainly wasn’t working, so maybe forcing it out would have more productive results. With one hand, he gripped the edge of his desk, as he pushed out a massive, roaring fart, so long that it left him out of breath. “Arceus almighty…” He mused to himself as his stomach churned. Every time his hand connected with his midsection, another bubble of gas would force its way out of him.

This strategy seemed to be decent for making progress, though Cyrus’s gut seemed to be capable of producing nearly endless air. After another flurry of smaller farts, he let out a large one that, to his displeasure, felt decidedly wet.

“...Fuck,” he said, getting to his feet and attempting to make his way to his private bathroom. With every step, he let out another rancid, swampy fart, interrupted periodically by deep burps. When he finally got to the bathroom, he felt like he was being stabbed in the abdomen; surely whatever demonic force would emerge from the depths of his bowels would not leave his pants intact, and he was so close to the toilet, but…

Cyrus was unable to restrain the disgustingly wet, sloppy fart that tore through his bowels, his mouth opening a bit in shock at how truly vile it was. It sounded and smelled like he was actively soiling himself. When he managed to shove down his pants and seat himself on the toilet, finally releasing the storm brewing in his intestines, he rested his head in his hands. This was going to be a long day.