Annies Shenanigans Ch 01 03

Chapter 1 - Asheville

The foggy town of Asheville was met with a pleasant sunrise this morning. However, a glance at the opposing horizon revealed a growing mass of dark clouds that looked almost ready to burst. In an hour or two it would eclipse the whole town and greet them with a cold shower. Nevertheless, storefronts slowly opened, citizens poured out of their homes and walked the streets, cars began to tread onto the roads, the chirp of the morning birds were slowly succeeded by the commotion of the pedestrians.

Saturdays were as uncompromising as any day of the week for the grown-ups who had to work their wage. But for the lazy youngsters inclined to take advantage of an off-day, Saturday mornings were a treat. To be roused awake by the 6 o'clock alarm only to realize there is no class, to use that privilege to spend the rest of the day in orgasmic slumber, was one of the most gratifying experiences available to an academic and every high-school student in Asheville was currently relishing peacefully in their morning snooze. Everyone except Annie.

Annie was facing detention for skipping classes and the incompetent high-school staff thought the best way to punish her would be to drag her to an off-day session and pair her with an available teacher so they could waste both of their time. Annie, being the rebellious stripling, contemplated skipping out on the detention, but gave in when she figured escaping punishment would only invite greater opportunities of retribution. She wasn't the kind of insubordinate protestor that liked to confront authority, she was the aloof rebel that liked to evade it altogether. If she could pay the price of skipping more classes than she had attended with a six hour detention, she would pay it gladly. Besides she had an ulterior motive,

After all it was announced that the teacher in charge of her detention would be none other than Ms Macy.

Annie Smith was 18 years young and she was going through her third year at Middleton high as a new transfer. She was the lone wolf of her class. Not shy, just a devout antisocial who didn't allow anyone to be friendly with her. Her wicked smile was naughty enough to entice a good amount of indecent boys but the intimidating gaze of her cold grey eyes were more than enough to draw them away. Anyone who tried to strike up a conversation with her could feel a wall of tension building between them, growing more and more palpable by the second. Everybody wanted her, but she didn't want anybody. It was a shame really, She had the physique that couldn't help but invite attention. A cute face that could break hearts, shiny black hair reaching her shoulders, a reasonable bust, a flat stomach with faintly visible abs accompanied by hips almost too wide for a girl her age. From the toe up, she had neatly shaven legs, building up to a pair of meaty thighs. It was evident from her appearance that she spent ample time at the gym. However the leanness of the rest of her body was an incidental byproduct of her workout routine. The real fruit of all of her labor manifested itself at the place where her fair back met her fair thighs. Her hindquarters.

The most prominent feature of Annie's physique was her big round bubblebutt and she made little to no effort in hiding it. In fact, she did everything she could to show it off. She'd come to school wearing nothing but cozy sweaters and skin-tight leggings. While walking in the hallway to her class, she'd make sure to actively sway her hips, giving her ass extra jiggle. Her curves made her an absolute eye candy. Guys would take turns sitting behind her just to marvel at her voluptuous buttocks, often sticking out of her leggings, revealing a cute little buttcrack. Her plump tushy looked good in anything. It could make a thigh-high skirt bulge at the rear, It could stretch jeans to a tear. It could do much much more, but only in other people's imaginations.

For the boys, it was a shame her personality didn't turn out to be as inviting as her body. Even though she had the physique of a pornstar, she radiated the cold aura of a serial killer that demanded absolute exclusion. She looked cute when she smiled, but she could turn serious in an instant and her stone cold stare could freeze anyone dead on their tracks and make it perfectly clear that approaching her would not be in their best interests. Because of her aloof personality, the biggest social interaction that she had to put up with came in the form of letters in her locker. She would check them once every 3 months, when they started to overflow with papers. Some were innocent love letters, some were romantic love letters and a couple of them were lust-fueled desires packed in paper, the contents of which could arouse atleast an erection from anyone reading it who was horny enough. But Annie ignored all of them.

She wasn't interested in any of the boys, or any of the girls. She wasn't interested in chit-chat, or making small-talk, or having acquaintances, or making friends, or having crushes, or going to parties or taking drugs. As far as anyone was concerned, she was missing out on her teenage years, but she was content as long as she could indulge in her one and only obsession.

And what was that obsession? Farting.

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Chapter 2 - Annie

Annie Smith was a girl who had her share of eccentric childhood experiences, which left her with a fart fetish by the end of puberty. She wasn't ashamed of it though, rather she had grown addicted to her newly formed kink, Almost addicted to the point of no return.

She found out at a very young age that she had acute lactose intolerance. She didn't let anyone else know of course. As far as her parents were concerned, Annie loved ice cream and pizza like any other kid. What they didn't know was that she had a habit of indulging in her salacious affairs behind closed doors. When she was in her early 18s, she found herself jerking off almost once a day. The thing is, she couldn't jerk off the way most people did. Stimulating herself while watching fart-porn wasn't enough for her. The only way she could climax is if she actually let some rip. So she came up with her own process. She'd pick out a small task to perform in private, anything that she could do while seated or lying down. A few minutes before embarking on that particular chore, she would try to upset her stomach on purpose, usually by eating beans or dairy. Her idea of an erotic jerk-off session was to read a book or draw a picture while helplessly blasting loud farts left and right. In between rips, she'd squeeze and rub her butt, often giving it a spank that made it jiggle. After a barrage of gassy expulsions, She'd rip a fart wet and nasty and long enough to trigger an orgasm on the spot, followed by long minutes of heavenly bliss. This is how her "fart-sessions" usually went. Most of the time she could engage her fetish in the comfort of her own home.

On sundays, her mom would bake delicious chocolate chip cookies, in batches big enough to last the whole week. From Monday through Friday, after eating her dinner, Annie would take a tall glass of cold milk from the fridge, accompanied by a small plate of cookies and retreat to her upstairs bedroom. Even though her parents slept downstairs, she couldn't risk waking them up with her anal cacophony, so once she'd put her snack on her bedside dresser, she'd peer out of the stairway and wait impatiently for her mother to turn off the reading lamp and for her father to start snoring. This usually happened around 11 o'clock.

Once the coast was clear, she'd start by locking her bedroom door and unlocking her secret dresser. Unbeknownst to her parents, she had kept a private collection of erotic underwear in a hidden compartment of her dresser. It contained multiple pairs of assless chaps, thigh-high suspenders, lingerie, tightey whiteys, and spandex shorts, amassed after months of properly rationing her pocket money and planning careful trips to far away sex shops. She made extra efforts to get most of her underwear in white. After all, she wanted the stains to be as visible as possible. She didn't fear anyone else coming into contact with her private possessions. She made herself responsible for keeping them clean, safe and hidden.

This is how Annie usually conducted her nightly ceremonies: She'd spend five minutes browsing through her collection until she found what she liked. In one particular instance, she decided to wear black assless chaps underneath a pair of white cotton shorts. She loved this particular combination because the chaps made her feel unnaturally naughty and the shorts clung on to her ass like it was painted on and also made her buns semi-visible through its thin cotton fabric. After choosing her underwear, she picked out the tightest pair of jeans she could find from her wardrobe. It was exhausting to fully squeeze in her meaty thighs and butt. Nevertheless, she zipped up her pale gray jeans and wrapped herself in her favorite orange sweater, the one that made her feel cozy and warm.

Once she was geared up in her outfit, she chose an activity to perform. Didn't matter what. As long as it was a menial task. She remembered her homework for tomorrow. Her biology teacher had instructed the class to study the latest chapter for an upcoming test, so Annie decided to do just that. She pulled out her thick biology textbook from her schoolbag and laid it out on her bed. She lied down on her stomach and turned to chapter 8.

She set herself a goal. For every page covered, she'd take one big sip of milk and help herself to a bite of cookie. She grabbed the tall glass of milk perched atop the beside dresser and took a big long swig to start things off.

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Chapter 3 - Milk and Cookies Part I

After a few minutes of mind-numbing revision, She felt a tender growl quaking her stomach.

She now knew her stomach was slowly but violently bubbling up. Her eyes darted back and forth from one end of the page to the other. She wasn't actually paying attention to what she was reading. She was mindlessly reciting the contents, which went in one ear and out the other. Her mind was focused on what was about to happen next. When her eyes met the halfway mark of the first page, the gurgles coming from her gut were loud enough to be heard.

GrrRt

"I guess it didn't take that long for the milk to gas up my insides," she thought.

Lactose intolerance is a disease and fart fetish is a curse. To indulge yourself in dairy, only to have it be violently expelled from you in a series of gross, embarassing and painful explosions, sounds sad. But to be sexually aroused by the sight, sound and smell of those very explosions sounds so much sadder that you'd think you're the victim of some cruel prank played by satan. But get this. As embarassing as having either lactose intolerance or a fart fetish might seem, having both of them at the same time can only be described as a gift from god.

To someone with a fart fetish, a fart is like a mini-orgasm. To eat something and feel your stomach churn it into gas, to feel that gas tread your intestines as it bubbles up your guts, to feel that wave of flatulence invade your colon and flood your anus, just waiting to be let out, just waiting for you to squeeze it through your asshole until it blasts out from the other side, until it explodes from between your asscheeks, to have that explosion be so powerful that it fills your underwear with a gassy cloud of millions of gut bacteria and stinky fecal matter, to have the stained fabric of your underwear amplify the explosion until it becomes loud enough to be heard all around you;

That, in a nutshell, is the erotic essene of flatulence. And having lactose intolerance means you get to fart as much as you want whenever you want; you get to have these mini-orgasms over and over again, provided you have access to a glass of milk or a cone of ice-cream or a slice of pizza. Sure, indigestion usually invites some pain, but the relief that comes from farting it all away makes it more than worth it. To Annie it felt like wielding an erotic superpower. And every night she put it to the test.

She felt a cold shiver emanating from her buttcheeks, running all the way down to her bare feet, followed by a second loud gurgle from her stomach. This one was big enough to pain her insides. She clutched her stomach with her hand, still keeping her eyes on the book. She was scanning through the last paragraph of the first page, when all of a sudden,

BrPrtFrFrRpt

Her eyes widened, in reflex. She wasn't expecting this quick a reaction. A four second fart shot through her butt before she knew it. It was half airy and half juicy and it pierced through her jeans and clapped the room like a bolt of lightning.

Sigh

She turns the page and grasps for the glass of milk. As she shifted her body from the bed, she could feel a small volume of air building up in her anus. Her ass was reloading. She sat at the edge of the bed and took the customary gulp, along with a bite of cookie. The chocolate chips were extra crunchy tonight.

Annie laid down on her fuming stomach and continued reading. She could now feel her assless chaps rubbing under her fuzzy cotton shorts, which were scrubbing against the fabric of her tight jeans.

She had one in the barrel, might as well let it rip. She clenched her plump buttcheeks together until her asshole was a narrow slit squished between them and decided to squeeze out a few quick rips.

BrrTbFTrPPTP

A brief 3 second airy blast.

BrrfTrbrrTPBrr

Another bassy fart that rumbled through her jeans. Dry. The first few farts always start out dry and bassy.

fpRb BFTrF rbrTP

Three short bassy blasts sputtered from her hindquarters in quick succession. Even though all of them were light and airy, the reverberation from the jeans made them sound like they were shot out from a trumpet half submerged in water.

rrTpB rrRfT fTPPTrT

Another trio of expulsions. This is why Annie loved wearing tight jeans; Not only did they lift her butt, they could exaggerate the tone of the smallest of farts. She couldn't rip any sbds, not when her ass was draped in skin-tight denim.

She made it to the end of the second page and snacked on the last cookie before washing it down with a gulp of cold lactose milk. She could feel her guts inflating right as she swallowed the milky mouthful. The next bout of air loaded up in her rectum and was ready to burst.

BrrFRBTFfpfFBTFffffRt

A gassy surge of moist and bubbly farts burst out from between her cotton clad asscheeks and went on for about 5 seconds, followed immediately by a groan of arousal.

BrfRFbFfPffpfFfpfFRTtttt

She could now feel the toll the milk was having on her gut and butt as her farts got progressively wetter and wetter. Her emissions could easily work through the cotton shorts but the tight jeans put up a stronger fight in containing most of her flatulence.

BrrpTTRpPBpT

As the farts got louder and louder, her jeans absorbed a good chunk of the bodily fumes and spread it around the rest of her hindquarters, warming her cheeks up.

TPBTbpPpRBrrPpPpRFbFfPfBp rrrrtt

"Oh fuck." 7 seconds of flatulent bubbles squeezed out of her. This one was hot enough to warm up a cold seat in seconds.

She brought her hands down and gave her ass a firm squeeze and a spank which jiggled her fat cheeks around while letting a few rip in the process. She felt sexy. She felt aroused. She felt satisfied. But she wanted more. She turned the third page in anticipation and took another sip of milk. She felt an enormous pressure building up in her rectum. Big enough to cut 5 farts loose, five stinky rippers. Maybe six or seven if she could force it.

She glanced at the clock. It had been 10 minutes since she had entered the bedroom and locked the door. She laid down on her stomach. The pain was building up and the gut-gurgles were getting louder and more frequent. She kept her gaze fixed at the glass of milk, with a countenance that conveyed in part a sexual itch and a deeper concern for safety. Up until now she was playing it safe, being cute with her gas. Ever since the first swig, she was in full control of her flatulence. Only letting them rip when she wanted to. But now that she saw the glass was half-empty, a deeper realization slowly started to sink in. Her soft stomach had never reacted well to more than half a glass of milk, which is why she always drinks from a small cup in public. Her bodily winds, fast and loud as they were, could still be controlled as long as they were summoned by less than half a cup of diary. Anything more than that, and she'd be pushing her body to a delicate threshold.

Now she lay flat on her stomach, eyes staring at the book filled with meaningless words, legs spread apart, butt half clenched, one hand clutching her lower gut which was burbling in discomfort, the other grabbing on to a nearby pillow. Heart still pounding in her chest from the excitement of breaking wind. Her stomach slowly bloating as it churns up all the milk. Her pressurized rectum was violently swelling with gas, getting bigger by the second. In the midst of the turmoil she cast upon herself for pleasure's sake, she had two thoughts. Two choices. Two questions.

"Should I quit while I'm ahead? Retreat to the bathroom and dump everything that's brewing?"

"Or should I drink the rest of the milk and empty my bowels out in my jeans?"

It was a choice between risking little and gaining little, or risking it all and hoping it would be worth it. She was facing a sensual dilemma and as everyone knows or will know from experience, when it comes to settling lustful predicaments, People don't follow their brains, they follow their genital impulse. When you become horny enough, you feel yourself getting possessed by the urgent spirit of a bloodthirsty beast that wants nothing but euphoria and is willing to do anything to achieve it. You stop thinking about what's rational or what's safe. You become an animal of instinct. You feel like you're about to do the sexiest thing that you have ever done in your life.

Annie hurled her textbook off the bed.

Annie drained every single drop of milk into her mouth and put the empty glass on the dresser.

GrrRrTrrf

"oh boy"

Annie felt her stomach growl harder than ever.