Fran was on her way to her friend’s that afternoon when she started to feel rather gassy. She sighed in exasperation as she felt the tell-tale signs in her lower abdomen of a series of bubbles just waiting to be released. Maybe she could just walk it off…but she had only gone a couple of blocks before she realized that this wasn’t the kind of fleeting flatulence that would be going away any time soon. Well, surely it didn’t much matter, and in any case she had to keep moving — she was already about ten minutes late.
She felt a soft pleasant burn in her rectum as she released some noxious vapors into the air behind her. She felt gassy frequently, it was true, but it was rarely this bad. Maybe she should stop by the pharmacy or something; she had run out of usual tums earlier that morning, and in her hurry to shower, get dressed, and rush out the door, she had left herself no time to buy more. But maybe the pharmacy was worth the five-minute detour. It wasn’t really an issue with her friends being squeamish — they were a group of down-to-Earth, middle-aged ladies. Fran definitely felt comfortable enough around them to let one go every now and then, but she certainly didn’t want to stink up the entire apartment. It felt like a common courtesy issue; plus, the thought of hanging out with her friends in an apartment full of her own gas was not the most appealing thing she could imagine. It was slightly embarrassing to think about…Daisy was one of those hippie health nuts, so she’d probably diagnose her with all kinds of imaginary ailments and give her some licorice root to chew or something else useless like that. No, she didn’t want to deal with it — she’d rather be safe than sorry.
As she stopped on the sidewalk to make the detour to the pharmacy, she second-guessed herself. She could hear the teasing and jabs now from Daisy and Rhonda – ‘Fran’s late again, like always!’ She could hear their laughing voices in her head, and she felt slightly irritated at the thought. So what if she was a little bit late to everything? At least she smelled good — the same could not always be said for Daisy, who was totally convinced that the aluminum in conventional deodorant seeped into the lymphatic system and caused cognitive decline or some other ridiculous shit like that. Her “all natural” deodorant resulted in her smelling a bit like a stale couch from time to time. And was Fran complaining about that? Of course not!
She grumbled to herself as she thought better of the pharmacy and continued on her way. Luckily, Fran could get quite creative when she had to deal with tiny dilemmas like this. She paused and immediately assessed her surroundings, looking out at the street, over the shop windows, and down the sidewalk. She’d get some kind of idea…she didn’t quite know why, but she walked closer toward a collection of trash cans that were standing outside of one of the local restaurants. As she got closer, she noticed why she had felt an internal pull in that direction: she had seen something moving. Something tiny. It was a little man, no more than 5 inches tall, his miniature little body dressed in rags. He was hunched next to the trash cans, and his little arms were wrapped around his body, trying to keep warm. He was shivering from the cold. It wasn’t even really cold that day, even though there was a wind chill that made it feel more like 50. To Fran it was nothing at all — she was walking down the sidewalk with her arms bared and she felt nothing at all. But this guy…well, he was so tiny that he was more susceptible to the weather.
Fran felt an outpouring of sympathy for the tiny man as she walked closer. Poor little guy — at 5 inches, it was true that he was too small for most women’s tastes, but what did that matter in a situation like this? He definitely looked in poor shape, like he was suffering. As she approached him, Fran could not remember seeing a smaller guy in a long, long time. He was begging for change; women walked by him, busy with their other errands, completely ignoring his little high-pitched pleas for help. But Fran wasn’t going to ignore him. As she got closer, the little man looked up at her and spoke in a high-pitched voice that made Fran melt on the inside from the cuteness.
“Excuse me, ma’m — a little something to help me eat? Anything? Please, ma’m…”
Without speaking, Fran picked him up, noticing in the process that he was a rather handsome 20-year-old. She brought him to her mouth where she warmed him up with hot air. The little guy had put his hands up at first in fear as Fran picked him up and brought him to her mouth; he had thought that this giantess was going to eat him and finish him off then and there. Even though his life was hard, he was still a young man — he wasn’t ready to die yet by any means. But despite his initial fear, it quickly became clear that Fran was not going to eat him, but was instead giving him the gift of her warm breath.
As she warmed him, the young man got a close look up at Fran’s face and body. She was not the most attractive woman in the world — she was in her mid-40’s, and was sporting the beginnings of a mustache on her upper lip. There were clear wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and the skin on her face had begun to hang a little looser than it had in her 30’s, when her face was plump and tight. And as she warmed him, the young man was treated to the unmistakable and not entirely pleasant odor of her coffee breath. But despite these somewhat off-putting features, her gesture of kindness did not go unnoticed or unappreciated, and he was left smiling at her kindness.
“Th-thank you ma’am,” said the young man appreciatively. She beamed at his cuteness and suddenly brought his little body even closer to her lips. He put his hands up again in instinctual fear, but once again her actions showed that she had no intention of eating him. Instead of opening her mouth, she pursed her big lips at him and smothered his tiny frame in a big kiss.
“What’s your name, little cutie?” asked Fran, bringing his body away from her lips and smiling brightly at him.
“T-timothy,” he replied, reeling a bit from the force and the moisture of the giantess’s kiss.
“Do you have anyone to look after you, Timothy?” asked Fran, “Anyone? Like parents? Family? Friends?”
“N-no ma’am,” said Timothy, bowing his head sadly as he hung in her grasp. “I don’t have anyone — I’m all on my own out here.”
“Oh, that’s terribly sad!” said Fran, creasing her brow at him. “No one at all? That’s such a shame — you’re just a young man, and a good-looking one at that too!”
“Th-thank you, ma’m,” said Timothy.
“You don’t have to keep calling me ma’am,” said Fran, creasing her eyes at him as she smiled. “Even though I’m probably fifteen years older than you, it’s really not that big of a difference — you can call me Fran, ok?”
“O-ok, Fran,” said Timothy, smiling in spite of his poor situation. Fran continued to smile back at him…he was perfect! He would be perfect for the job — her eyes sparkled as everything fell into place in her mind. She was so lucky she had happened across him; he was just what she needed.
“Now then,” she said, “I’m running late to my friend’s house, but I’m not going to leave you out here shivering on the street, Timothy. No sir. I’m going to temporarily fix your homeless problem, and in exchange I’m going to have you do something for me — if you do a good enough job, maybe I’ll give you your very own forever home, with someone who can make use of you and take care of you. How does that sound, little sweetie?”
“Th-that just sounds amazing!” said Timothy enthusiastically, clasping his tiny little hands together in thanks. “Y-you’re like an angel who came to save me!”
Fran chuckled to herself. “Angel, huh?” Haha, we’ll see about that, won’t we? But anyway — I’m running late, so I’ll be brief. You’d like a nice warm spot where you can rest, right Timothy?”
“Oh yes ma’am…Fran, I mean,” said Timothy.
“Well, little guy,” she said, smiling crookedly at him, “it just so happens that I have a nice warm spot to put you — and in being there, you’ll actually be helping me out too! You see, it’s like a win-win; get it?”
“Yes, yes that sounds perfect to me!” said Timothy, smiling widely. However, his smile quickly shifted into a confused kind of gape when Fran took off his rags with a quick swish of her finger. All of a sudden he was hanging in her grasp, completely naked. She hadn’t even asked him if he was ok with her undressing him — she had just taken it upon herself. She brandished some body lotion and perfume from her purse and used two fingers to liberally apply them to his nude, prone little body. He squirmed a little bit in her grasp, but quickly realized that Fran was going to do what she wanted to him, and that he may as well just relax and accept it. Besides, she seemed nice…and after all his skin probably needed the lotion, and the perfume was making him smell nice — what was there to complain about, really?
After smothering him in the scented lotion and (rather strong) perfume, Fran held Timothy up to her face again.
“Ok, little guy, so here’s the thing: we need each other’s help.” As she spoke to him, Fran fished into her purse, bringing out a couple hair-ties. Without any further ado, she wrapped them around his arms and legs, effectively binding him tightly so that he could barely move.
“W-wait,” he stammered, the fear returning to his face, “wh-what are you doing?”
“Setting our bargain in motion, Timothy,” explaining Fran, when all of a sudden, her smile began to turn to a grimace.
“Are...are you okay?” The little man stuttered when...FRRRPPPPPTTTTTTTTTttt..tttt. Fran released a loud and bass-y fart that soon encased them in the smell.
“UNGGGHH heaven’s me,” Fran said as she waved her other hand in front of her face attempting to waft away the stench. Meanwhile, Timothy couldn’t believe the smell. Never in his life had he ever smelled a fart as bad as this. Cough cough cough…little Timothy hacked away as he lay trapped in her grasp and the cloud of her fart.
“As you can see, I’m struggling with a mean bout of gas right now. I’ve been known to let one loose occasionally, but this is far worse than usual. And since I’m running late for lunch at my friend’s house, I don’t have time for a pit stop at the pharmacy. That’s where you come in little guy. You see, you need me to warm you up. And I need you to keep the smell from reaching others- soak up the brunt of it! Like a makeshift fart block, ya‘ know?”
Timothy did indeed “know,” and responded by squirming helplessly in her grasp, not able to do much else since his arms and legs were tied up with her hair ties.
“N-no! No, please!” he begged up at her. “P-please! Please, I don’t want…I don’t want that! Please!”
But Fran wasn’t having any of this opposition, and she shook the little man firmly with her hand, causing his little body to whip back and forth. An angry look came into her face as she vented her frustration at him.
“You aren’t in any position to be telling me what you want and don’t want!” she yelled at him, shaking his little body and causing his hair to rise up in terror. “I picked you up off the street, remember? You were a little beggar boy, with nothing at all in the world, and here I am offering you warmth and safety, and you’re throwing it back in my face!? You should be grateful that someone like me is willing to help you!”
Without saying any more, Fran lowered him down, maneuvering him behind her as she pulled down the back waistline of her pants slightly. Timothy squirmed and wriggled hopelessly in her grasp. Was this actually happening?! He was taken aback as Fran’s obese cellulite-covered ass cheeks spilled out of her pants — it certainly hadn’t taken much to set them free. She had only lowered her waistline a little bit, but that was all her big ass needed to spring out.
“Now I should warn you, Timothy,” she said down to him, “it might get a bit sweaty down there.” She laughed a little as she brought him closer to huge expanse of her cratered ass. “As a big beautiful woman I tend to sweat a little more than most, and, well…my current stomach issues certainly won’t make it any easier for ya. But that’s kind of why I need your help little guy. You should be falling over yourself in gratitude for what I’m doing for you — I can assure you one thing: you’re not gonna catch cold down here!” She laughed again, and then gripped one gelatinous cheek in her strong grasp. Timothy couldn’t believe it — her single ass cheek was as big as a good-sized hill, and many, many times the size of his own body. Fran separated this huge cottage cheese cheek from the other, and she wasted no time in shoving Timothy down her dark sweaty crack, and right up against her slimy anus, a few stray asshairs scratching against him. His cries of protest were muffled by her moist ass flesh — she shook in slight satisfaction, not being able to stifle a chuckle as she felt him squirming and tickling her anus. She smiled to herself, happy that she had managed to think on her feet and come up with a solution to her problem.
‘How about that?’ she said to herself happily as she let go of her cheeks, closing Timothy in between them. ‘A little man as a fart blocker — I love it!’ And with that, she was on her way, whistling happily to herself at her resourcefulness; the whole thing had only taken about a minute. As she walked, she could feel that Timothy was continuing to wiggle about in her ass, and she could hear his tiny fruitless cries and screams.
“Quiet down there!” she barked roughly down at him. She felt a particularly big fart brewing deep within her hips, and she smiled to herself. Perfect timing. This would be sure to shut the little thing up. She flexed her abdomen, releasing the foul wind forcefully from her anus as she farted long and heavy directly onto poor little Timothy.
BRRRRRRAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTTT. She could feel him go still, and she laughed to herself. Perfect — that was all she needed to do. Now the little guy knew his place. And she was quite pleased with how he worked: while it was true that she could definitely smell some of the fart (it had been a pretty big and smelly one, after all), but it was mostly dissipated by Timothy’s little body, and it was nowhere near as bad or noisy as it would have been otherwise. Her living fart absorber had soaked up the brunt of it.