Gassy Goddess (English)

(USSBBW, Squashing, Face Sitting, Farting)

Gassy Goddess

In the small, tranquil town of New Ventus, there was a successful café. Nicely decorated and popular among tourists and locals alike. It wasn't that an extraordinary number of people passed through the small town, but every now and then someone from outside entered the cute shop. The owner was particularly proud of her selection of baked goods, cakes, and tarts, which was very extensive for the small size of New Ventus. The latter were even the baker's specialty, and slowly but surely, with the help of the internet, word got around that there seemed to be a true master patissier in this thinly populated backwater. Stella MacDowell was a virtuoso who could work wonders with dough, cream fillings, and chocolate icing. Real works of art made of fluffy butter cream were piled up next to custard and cinnamon rolls, fruit tarts, cream puffs, waffles and everything else a sweet-toothed heart could desire.

As she did every Sunday morning, Stella prepared some particularly beautiful pieces on several plates. She was expecting her friends, as she always did on the last day of the week at this time of day, to chat and gobble up quite a few calories in the form of cake. This had been a fixed routine for years and the other guests at her café also knew the garrulous quartet of middle-aged women very well. The group, which devoured cake and exchanged the latest gossip, had become a fixture of the café and the entire small town.

In addition to all the other nibbling and tasting, the regular feast of cakes and pastries that took place every Sunday had not left Stella's figure unscathed. However, there was nothing that interested the woman in her mid-fifties less than the extra pounds that caused her new apron to stretch further. In any case, New Ventus was a rather open-minded place in that regard. Most of the inhabitants were overweight or even downright fat. None of them cared or were even bothered by it.

Stella was a small, stout woman with black hair, in which one or two silver strands already shone. A very tight white apron stretched tightly over a body equipped with a number of thick rolls. A round belly, broad thighs and very fat, overflowing upper arms perfectly rounded out the image of a chubby, likeable lady in her best years. What people who didn't know Stella looked at most was probably her enormous bust. She often felt as if all the sugar, butter cream and custard she ate went straight into her massive breasts. Stella's body never tired of pumping more and more fat into the swollen, spilling udders. Held in place by a huge bra and supported by a very tight apron, two medicine balls, soft as pudding, dangled in front of Stella's chest and slowly but surely made every movement and the daily work in her café a strenuous affair. Soft, white breast flesh, which showed the veins and stretch marks well, swelled like rising dough out of her neckline. The tits literally piled up on top of each other.

A little later that day, two of Stella's best friends entered the café and the owner of the place happily served up the selected delicacies. She also made her very popular coffee. Miranda Smith was a blonde lady who also carried a few extra pounds, although, unlike Stella, she had it all concentrated in her wide hips and gigantic flabby ass. On the other side of the table was Patricia Wexler, who, under her pretty summer dress, heaved an enormous paunch dangling down to the middle of her flabby thighs. Three very differently shaped women who were roughly the same in size, age and weight. They were known as the Fat Quartet of New Ventus. Quartet because one of their friends was still missing. A rather heavyweight lady who completed the group was still lacking, however. A person who was liked, but also known and somewhat notorious throughout the town.

While they happily chatted and ate cake, the three middle-aged ladies were watched by a small-time crook named Derek Cline who had arrived that morning. The professional criminal was always on the road in his small, inconspicuous car, trying to relieve the rural population of their money and property wherever he could.

Occasionally sipping his coffee, he would size up the people in the café, trying to assess who he might be able to follow, for example, into their house to relieve them of various valuables. Again and again, his gaze slid over the group of laughing and chatting ladies.

Then the door of the café opened and Derek's eyes grew wide. Everyone in town knew the woman who was now trying to enter the shop, but for strangers like him, the sight was downright shocking.

Henrietta Simmons was a brunette on her way to her fiftieth birthday and she was the last piece of the fat quartet. She was trying to enter the café, and that was the right expression, because with her tree-trunk legs, full of rolls of fat, each as thick as an arm, she was trying to squeeze sideways through the door. The woman's gigantic hips prevented any other way of entering. However, Henrietta encountered problems here too, because her ass was out of this world. Enormous, flabby, heaving buttocks protruded further back than the doorframe was wide. In front of her, the fat woman carried a royal paunch that was more than clearly visible under her huge dress. A bit of the fat apron could even be seen at the hem of the garment, as far as the flabby mass went down. Henrietta's arms were as thick as pillows and the fat hung down far from her upper arms. She proudly displayed two monumental udders that hung lazily to the left and right of her belly.

With groans and squeezing, Henrietta finally managed to squeeze in and waddled with small tip-tip steps, which made everything on her wobble, to her enthusiastic friends. She seemed extremely slow and ponderous and had a contented and good-natured expression, which was only marred by her rapid breathing and reddened cheeks.

What everyone present had noticed, but no one except Derek really cared about, was the rumbling, hefty fart that the grotesquely obese woman had let out when she had pushed her squishy, bloated belly past the doorframe.

Everyone in New Ventus knew Henrietta and her blatant, omnipresent odors. No matter where the fat woman went, she didn't even try to hold back the farts that escaped her gigantic, up and down wobbling ass cheeks.

The unbelievably fat woman sat down on the special reinforced chair that Stella had provided for her, whereby another rattling fart was squeezed out between the fat folds.

Derek watched with his mouth open as the three heavyweights, eating cake, chatted away with the even more enormous woman sitting in her own stench.

The crook thought that this fat, lame aunt might make the perfect victim.

Derek had found exactly the house he had hoped for. A mansion-like building in an American, colonial country house style. A magnificent, venerable property completely in white, just outside the city. The house was situated on a large property with some large old trees and neatly trimmed bushes. Everything looked like the home of someone who really had a lot of money. Derek was sure that there was a lot to get from this huge, flabby whale. Experience has shown that in such houses, if not cash, there is a lot of porcelain, paintings and, above all, jewelry to get. Henrietta was exactly one of those women in their prime who liked to dress up before leaving the house and had countless options of earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings for every occasion. Even if the bloated giant pear looked like a lumbering elephant everywhere, at least in Derek's eyes, she was no exception. After all, the small-time crook had been able to watch her extensively in the café, with her huge dress that her overflowing, massive fat sacks and bacon rolls had tried to cover.

Until night fell, Derek waited in his small, old car, with which he had been driving across the country for a long time, always looking for the next opportunity to make quick money and rip off some idiots, preferably from backwaters like this one.

At some point, the last lights on the upper floor of the property went out. Logically, Derek assumed that the fat old woman's bedroom was upstairs. That's probably where he would have to go if he wanted to look for the jewelry he had in mind. However, that would be the last thing he would do. First, he would search the rest of the building for valuables and then risk waking the fat woman in her bedroom. However, he almost thought that might not matter either. If he made any noise that disturbed Henrietta's sleep, the only problem would be the police she might call. The old heavyweight, with her ass wider than a doorframe and a belly that hung down past her knees, would hardly be able to stop him, let alone keep up with Derek at a mere walking pace. Of course, he tried to avoid waking her, but even if he did, he would probably have all the time in the world to carry everything that could be sold out of the house. Damn it, if he wanted to, he could probably even carry out the entire interior by himself before Henrietta's tree trunk legs, covered over and over with rolls of fat, could even make it down one step on her staircase. Derek laughed at the thought and left his car under the cover of darkness. It was actually a small miracle that the enormously fat and lethargic woman could even stand on her own feet, buried by her overflowing calves, let alone climb stairs. Maybe there was an elevator or a kind of stairlift, the little professional criminal wondered, as he scurried from one bush to the next, slightly crouched, over the short-trimmed grass, towards the property. It was a strange notion, though, to wonder what kind of crazy contraption was needed to hoist such a deformed, overflowing, freakishly huge bottom up to the first floor. With a grimacing face, he imagined how Henrietta, as she climbed the stairs, squeezed an excruciatingly long, booming fart out of her overstuffed, bloated intestines with each of her earth-shattering steps.

Derek finally reached the house without any light having come on, which would not have surprised him. With a certain excitement, which was normal even for the fiftieth burglary, but without real concern, the thief pressed himself against the wall of the house and slid along it to one of the larger windows at the back of the building. He then hastily crept across a beautiful terrace, which even had a pool, past a garden shed and an opulent BBQ pit for possible barbecues at which Henrietta probably ate most of the meat by herself.

When Derek arrived at the large window he had chosen for his entry, he took his proven burglary tool out of his jacket pocket. With his little tools, a little leverage and many years of experience, he had broken the sliding window relatively silently and climbed carefully into the large house.

It was all pretty much as he had imagined it for a woman of Henrietta Simmons' wealth, age and taste, at least at first glance of the thief in the dark. Vases, cabinets with old books and porcelain and many paintings on the walls. A huge TV on the wall, which Derek to his dismay unfortunately could not get rid of, glass tables and here and there sculptures made of stone.

The little man tiptoed quietly from room to room on the ground floor, looking around. In the kitchen, he briefly looked at the gigantic refrigerator with double doors. No wonder the old woman is so incredibly fat, thought Derek, shaking his head. Then he suddenly heard a creaking sound behind him and jumped. He spun around and looked into the darkness of the kitchen, which was somewhat diminished by the moonlight shining through the windows. No one was there; had he really heard the noise from the first floor? The thief had been in every room without meeting anyone, and he thought it impossible that he would have failed to hear someone as grotesquely fat as Henrietta Simmons coming down the stairs. Besides, it was funny, but the heavyweight landlady would have unwittingly alerted the burglar herself, as she let out a hefty, rattling belch with every movement, which was even louder due to the acoustics of her gigantic ass. Derek looked up at the kitchen ceiling. Maybe that was what it was, the fat blubber had heaved itself around in her bed. Shaking his head, the thief turned back to the fridge. Before he chose what to steal, he actually wanted to take a look inside the fat woman's fridge to see what kind of calorie bombs the landlady had to eat every day to reach such a weight.

Just as Derek was about to open one of the doors of the quietly humming device, he heard loud creaking behind him and this time also heavy, dull footsteps. In panic, he tried to turn around and couldn't believe that such a fat old aunt could really hide from him and sneak up on him. He had also underestimated how fast Henrietta was on her fat feet, for a woman of her weight. Before the thief had turned around completely, the woman, stomping out of the adjoining pantry, rammed him with the full mass of her sluggish, sagging paunch, which sank to her knees, and the colossal udders, swollen with fat, that lay on top of it. The little man was engulfed by a flood of fat rolls, scantily covered by a tent-sized nightgown, lost his balance, and fell onto the cold kitchen tiles. In the impact, he had felt his body sink into the protruding monster paunch. The spongy, bloated tissue of the fat woman had given way, and a long, juicy fart had been forced out of the swollen intestines.

Panicked, Derek immediately tried to get back on his feet.

“Well, well, my little one... since you're already here, you're welcome to stay a little longer,” he heard Henrietta say mockingly behind him. Still half lying on the floor, the caught thief turned around and saw only a huge, fleshy mass coming towards him. With a dull thud that made everything tremble, Henrietta let her sofa-filling backside come down on the unfortunate burglar, with all the folds of fat, the blatant cellulite and the overflowing saddlebags that merged into her tree-trunk thighs. Everything about her wobbled uncontrollably up and down as the gigantic ass cheeks sat down and completely buried the man underneath.

“Ahh... finally sitting,” moaned the enormously fat brunette and breathed a relaxed sigh.

“I haven't stood for so long as I did today. I thought you weren't even going to try tonight, you little brat, “she giggled, looking in Derek's direction, although of course she could only see her spreading buttocks spreading in all directions. Sheer endless landscapes of light, soft flesh adorned with cellulite.

Derek's arms were trapped and the weight of several hundred pounds was pressing down on his chest, making breathing almost impossible. Right in front of his face, he had the fat, bacon-lined crotch of the fat woman and her anus, usually buried deep between her ass cheeks. He couldn't believe that the old woman was expecting him and had even been lying in wait for HIM.

Another hefty, loud fart came from the fat woman's ass, and the pitiful thief couldn't help but take in the aroma and everything that went with it. Everything stank and squeezed and constricted him. His arms were trapped under endless masses of jiggling ass fat, and all he could manage with his legs was a bit of senseless wriggling. Henrietta's belly covered almost everything of him down to his feet, and the movement made the whole mass of fat on her stomach gurgle and ripple menacingly.

“That's good my sweety. I haven't held back my gases for such a long time. I'm dangerously bloated, I'm telling you,” the fat woman explained with a grin, rubbing her huge belly, which was towering in front of her, with her massive tits hanging down on either side. This, and Derek's efforts to get free, released another long, loud flatulence.

“I don't know what the problem is. I've had quite a few burglars here. What is it with you boys? Do I look that helpless? Because of the weight?” Henrietta asked, laughing towards her ass, but knowing that the thief she was holding captive with her bulk was in no position to answer.

“Well... anyway, I think a firming is only appropriate for that. Maybe then you'll learn that crime doesn't pay and that you could expect more from full-figured women. With one hand, Henrietta continued rubbing her swollen belly while she tugged at the edges of one of her ass cheeks with the other. She leaned to one side and lifted all the fat from her thighs and ass, although Derek was still about 150 kg away from being free, and let out a huge, rattling flatulence. The hearty aroma spread together with the very loud, long sound and almost made the fat of the colossal ass cheeks vibrate.

“Oh, that felt so good. I ate way too much again today. There's so much more where that came from, my darling,” Henrietta announced in a simultaneously lascivious and somewhat sadistic tone. The noise the subsequent farts made was more than anyone would have thought possible from a human body, no matter how fat and gas-filled.

While Derek was trapped under over a hundred kilos of pure ass fat, Henrietta's neighbor, who was already familiar with the farts of the extremely overweight woman, opened her eyes in annoyance.

“Oh dear, has someone tried it again? Poor idiot,” she said to herself in her bed. The rolling thunder of the mighty intestinal winds would probably keep her awake for quite a while.