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Girls Fart Brawl

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Punchline was meeting up with Joker’s former girlfriend, Harley Quinn, for drinks at a nightclub. She wore her usual purple outfit with her long black hair hanging down in a swooping braid.

The nightclub they were meeting at was called the Fire Alarm and was new and hip. Supposedly only the elite could get in or the hottest girls. Rumor also had it that some the beverages they served were more potent than vodka and the ilk. Punchline couldn’t wait to quaff some of these. Being drunk partying with her best girlfriend, that was the life.

At first, Harley and Punchline had been on ill terms, but they quickly warmed up after discussing all of the Joker’s negative traits. As a romantic interest, that is. To the populace at large he had other negative traits, but these two girl’s didn’t give a pig’s snout about that.

As Harley hadn’t arrived yet, Punchline approached a counter, her dark braid swinging, and asked a pretty female bartender with heavy mascara for a Supernova Nixed.

“I’m not sure your body type can deal with a Supernova,” the bartender said snidely.

“You let me worry about that, honey,” Punchline said. “Because that’s what I want.”

The bartender glared at her for half a minute then reluctantly started making the drink.That is mixing six or seven different kinds of alcohol in a decanter and throwing spices in as well,
then stirring it so everything blended.

This could knock Punchline out but she didn’t care.

She sashayed her way toward a table. There were some guys playing pool, one of them with thick biceps, the other a scrawny dude with glasses. An Asian girl wearing a cute dress perached on the pool table, her butt blocking one of the holes.

As Punchline quaffed the drink, which burned her throat, she felt someone watching her. A girl whose hair was brown with a white tuft, and who wore a green halter top. Punchline felt her cheeks blush, she didn’t know what this girl’s problem was.

She tapped her foot waiting for Harley and downed her beverage. Then, the other girl was
joined by a young woman with dark hair of her own but who had on a long red coat.

She removed the coat before sitting down. Punchline was curious about them but didn’t go over, she needed to wait for her friend.

Hands fell ove there eyes and PUnchline heard giggling. “Guess who?”

“I know it’s you, Harley,” Punchline said. “No one else has a voice like yours. Also, your hands smell like cinnamon roll.”

“Well, you know if we’re going to fart this place out, we had to eat a lot today.”

“Don’t blab the plan out loud,” Punchline hissed. Harley removed her hands from her face.

“I had to mention it,” she said, coming around and taking her seat beside Joker’s new
girlfriend. “Because if your butt’s not ready to pump out gas, I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, it’s ready,” Punchline promised.

“Good,” Harley said, beaming. She pulled the dark-haired girl’s drink to her and took some sips. “Say, this is going to make my farts even worse, so bad they hurt my booty coming out.
Why would you get something like this and make me drink it?”

“It’s mine, get your own,” Punchline said, pulling the glass back toward her. “And you downed it of your own accord.”

“I don’t want to get my own drink but whatever, I suppose I will,” Harley said, rising, and sashaying toward the bartender’s counter.

The girl with the white tuft of hair against her brown tresses was still watching her. PUnchline drummed her fingers on the table, waiting for Harley to return.

Suddenly her butt was bursting with gas. And then the burly dude gripped her shoulder. “Yo, sweetcheeks,” he said, as she gazedup at him with loathing. “How would you like to come to my place tonight?”

She tittered. “Your joke needs a punchline.”

“Joke?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Whatever do you mean?”

She let her butt do the talking.



The dude reeled back, shielding his nose. “How can a woman fart like that?” he asked. “Jeez.”

Punchline had no words for that incredibly stupid statement.

“I’m going to take you my car, stick you in the truck,” the burly man said, lifting PUnchline out of the chair even as she screamed.

He seemed to think she didn’t have any more fart in her ass. Well, as no one else seemed to be rushing to her aid, she’d have to depend on her sphincter to set things straight.

Her butt rumbled as this guy carried her in his arms as though she were a bride and he a respectful groom. A scene plucked from a fairy tale. But the joke was that this princess or bride or whatever she ws supposed to be, was pretty gassy, and the dude holding her was more like an orc that a handsome daredevil.

“Hey, want to scratch my butt?” Punchline asked, in her sexiest voice.

“Wow, you really know how to turn a guy on. I should kiss you for that state-” the dude siad,
but was interrupted by the loud gas that sprung from Punchline’s ass.




The dude threw Punchline a table people were at. “What is wrong with you, woman? He screeched. “My nose, it burns so much!”

Then he ran toward the exit of the nightclub. He wouldn’t bother Punchline again tonight.

The table had four people around it, apparently some couples that were double dating, at least from Punchline’s guess.

“Did you just fart while that guy was holding you?” a girl asked, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s more effective than pepper spray,” Punchline said, winking. “Speaking of which…” She pulled a plastic plate of nachos toward her that was in front of the girl who had spoken.
Punchline pushed her butt down on the nachos and got cheese on her purple uniform.

“Yo, get your butt out of my girlfriend’s nachos,” said one of the boys, who had a black onyx earring and was glaring at Joker’s new babe menacingly.

“Nah, I’ve gotta fart,” Punchline said, cutely.

She shut her eyes and grunted.




The girl shoved her chair back and leapt to her feet. “Ew, it stinks so much in here! This woman is insane! Get me out of this place, Mason!”

Punchline laughed her head off as the earring-boy, Mason, put his arm protectively around his girlfriend, glaring at her as the other couple joined them on their way out.

“You forgot your delicious nachos!” Punchline declared, pulling the plate out from under her and tossing them as the couple. The cheese caught int he girl’s blonde hair, and some nachos clung to that. “Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!” she screeched again. “How did that girl get in the hippest club? They should be more careful the rifraff they let in here.”

"You can take a shower at my apartment, Holly. But yes, I agree with you.”

“Whoa, were you the center of a scene?” Harley asked, coming over, a drink in her hand, her blonde locks in cute pigtails.

“I was,” PUnchline said. “Do you think I’d just jump on a table for no reason and sit there?”

“I would,” Harley said.”In fact, I’ll do so now!”

She thrust her glass of borboun into Punchline’s hands, then ran toward a table with a cluster of people around it, then did a somersalt over someone who was sitting, landing on her feet on the table like a cat that has leapt down from a roof, except her movement took her upward rather than descending.

Then she wagged her cute ass in the short red cheerleader skirt she wore. Beneath that skirt
were dark leggings. Some guys at the table watched her ass happily.

None at the table knew what was coming, though. The Punchline scene had been ignored by most in the nightclub, many people were too doused on alcohol to know what was happening, while others just didn’t give a damn what happened at any other table.
Harley swiveled her ass, excited to release the gas that would soon emerge. By shaking her butt, she was basically stirring the mixture so it could be really foul when it came out.




The guys who had been wolf-whistling at Harley’s twerking posterior howled in disgust, shielding their noses and most backed away from the table. One grabbed her ankle, though. She glared down at him, trying to twist her ankle free.”Hey, what gives?” Harley asked in her cute voice. “”You not get a wiff of what my adorable posterior just emitted?”

The dude leered at her. “I heard the noise it made, but some people don’t have a sense of smell, and I am one of those lucky individuals.”

He pulled her down to the table and climbed up on it, pinning her down and zooming his whiskery lips toward her dark lipsticked pair…

Punchline started for the table, prepared to dumb Harley’s drink all over the dude, he may not have the sense of smell but he still wouldn’t like having sticky clothes on.

But the girl with the white tuft in her brown hair who sort of reminded Punchline of a werewolf reached the table first. She pressed her arms to the man’s grabby hands, and jolts of electricity shot all over him. He screamed and the werewolf girl pushed him away in disgust. He kept getting zapped, and then when he rolled over on his back like a cockroach, the werewolf girl’s hands turned into cement blocks and she smashed them down on the man’s face. He went unconscious, his expression one of fear and agony.

“Um, thanks,” Harley said, sliding off the table. She pecked the werewolf girl on the cheek.

“Um, you didn’t have to kiss me,” the werewolf girl said, rubbing the saliva-covered imprint
Harley had left, her palms and forearm no longer a cement block.

“You saved me from that creep, of course I had to,” Harley said, her hands behind her back ather skirt area.

“I heard you farting and I just had to come over and check it out,”the werewolf girl said.

“Yeah, me and my friend came here to ruin people’s times in this nightclub with some foul gas,” Harley said, as Punchline approached. The latter’s face flushed beet-red, though. She liked farting of course but telling a complete stranger that that was their intention, that just made the whole situation weird, and she might alert the bartender, the bouncer outside, and the nightclub owner if they were around that these girls had negative intentions for business, and get them kicked out.

Instead however, the werewolf girl seemed intrigued. “That sounds fascinating. Perhaps my friend and I can help. We’re no strangers to farting in public either.”

“I want to thank you for helping Harley,” Punchline said.

“Uh, hi,” the werewolf girl said. “I was observing you earlier, couldn’t take my eyes off the hottest girl in the room.”

Punchline blushed. She wasn’t sure she deserved such a superlative, but hey if this werewolf girl thought so, who was she to deny it?

“What about my hotness?” Harley asked, blinking.

“You’re definitely a 12 on a scale of 1 to 10,” the werewolf girl said, with a sheepish grin.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Harley said, putting a finger to the werwolf girl’s chin.

“Were those your powers?” Punchline asked, to move the conversation away from the awkwardness. “The electricity zaps and the cinder block arms?”

“Oh no, my power lets me use those of other mutants, like myself,” the werewolf girl said. “It happens when I come in physical contact with them. Certainly useful for situations like this,” she said, scowling at the mustachioed man who was supine and knocked out on the table.

“Sounds super awesome,” Harley said, beaming. “Wish I was a mutant and had a pretty neat
power. It’d involve tons of destruction if I did, that’s for sure.”

Punchline held out her hand. “Hey, I’m Punchline. Never met a mutant before.”

“I’m Rogue,” the werewolf girl said. “But don’t go bragging that you met me. I’m not exactly popular amongst mutants. Stealing their powers doesn’t go over well, you know?”

“Rogue, who are these girls?” said the girl she had been with earlier.

“Well, the one in purple is Punchline, The blonde hasn’t mentioned her name yet.” “It’s
Harley, Harley Quinn,” the blonde tinnied.

“You have a manic eye,” the other girl remarked to her. “Like you thrive in chaos.”

“That’s because I do,” Harley admitted. “In fact, chaos is exactly why we’re here.”
Rogue’s friend frowned. “But chaos is my thing.”

“No, it’s mine!” Harley screamed.


“I usually carry around a giant mallet with me!” Harley said, poking this other girl in the chest.

“Oh yeah, can you do this?”

The girl went toward a table, an empty one, and gripped her hands on it as far apart as she
could stretch her arms.

Suddenly the nightclub vanished, and the girls were in a park on a sunny afternoon, the supine man Rogue had knocked out was on a bench, One couple was strolling through with a pram and a baby in it. The bartender was sitting on the freshly mown grass, a notepad in her hand, drawing a tree. Other dudes from the pool table were cycling along the path, helmets on. Eventhe girl who had been sitting with her butt blocking a hole the billiards balls wanted to shoot into was on a bike.

But there were also people that Punchline was sure hasn’t been in the nightclub at all. A dude with glasses, blowing a harmonica. Even a girl with a squirrel tail, as well as ears. Those had to be a costume, right? Except they looked so lifelike. As though those were her actual ears, and that tail didn’t come off. But that couldn’t be the actual case, no way.

“Whoa, Punchy, when did you start donning the bright orange threads?” Harley titered.

Punchline looked down at her outfit. It was no longer purple but a deep shade of tangerine. But she hadn’t changed her clothes. Was this really the power of a mutant? Sure, it wasn’t daytime back where they had been, so it was posible they had teleported to a park somewhere in the world thirteen hours ahead of their time, but to change her clothes to something clownish from what they had been before? That was way too much for her.

Then she saw what Harley was wearing. Instead of the white shirt she had on before with long, black sleeves, featuring a broken heart on the chest, with an arrow pierced through it, she now had on a blouse of a mint green hue with flowers, and yellow pants with blue stripes on the size.

“Yo, why would you dress me up in this ridiculous outfit?” Harley asked, glaring at Rogue’s friend.

“To incite your fire, duh. Because I’m challenging you to fart match, along with Rogue as my partner.”

“You think you can outfart me?” Harley asked, her eyes narrowed. “Just because you have a pretty cool power?”

“You haven’t even figured out what my powers are yet,” the strange girl said, her arms crossed.

Harley did a handstand and started spinning around as though she were sliding down a pole, only there was no actual pole so her spinning was weird. “Something with telemoving and outfit altering,” she said confidently.She stopped spinning, and got on her stomach, feet in the air, like girls sometimes do when on their bed. “Did I get it right?” she asked, smirking.

“No,” the mutant snarled, her arms crossed. “And just for that, I won’t tell you my name.”

“She’s Wanda,” Rogue supplied. “But usually it’s more polite to call her Scarlet Witch.”

“Way to tell strangers stuff they’re better off not knowing,” Wanda hissed.

“Well, I can’t wait to fart any longer,” Harley said, pushing her arms against the ground and thrusting upward so she sprang to her feet.

She swished her butt from side to side, then reached back and banged her asscheeks as though they were a drum.



“Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww! Cheeseburger farts,” Wanda said. “Nastiness.”

“You should take her fart on nachos, or some other source of food,” Punchline said. “She’s the Queen of passing gas.”

“Wait till you two get a whiff of what Rogue can do,” Wanda said, jeering.

“Oh, it’s on,” Harley said. “The farts you two can produce, versus the ones we can.”

“You think you can outfart us? You two aren’t even mutants.”

“Our gas can clear rooms!” Harley insisted.

“Our gas can clear an entire beach!” Wanda thundered over her.

“Ours can make an entire hotel full of people have to leave for three horus straight before its safe to breathe again!”

“A hotel? Ours can clear an entire college campus! The science building, art, dance studio, dorm rooms, dining halls, student centers, and the math one, and the campus museum, and
the one where English classes are taken, and the colosseum, and the social studies/forein language building…”

“Not every campus is the same,” Harley pointed out.

“My point is a sizeable campus with maybe I dunno, 20,000 students, or 25,000. We could clear that whole area.”

“Sure you could, toots,” Harley said, unbelieving.

“You don’t have to believe me,” Wanda said, turning around and wagging her butt. “You just have to smell it.”

“Oh, it’s on!” Harley said, turning around and shaking her butt as well.


...went Wanda’s ass, squirting out taco farts. They reeked so bad that Punchline had to pull the top of her tangerine dress over her nose to breathe.

“Oh yeah, take this!” Harley said, swiveling her ass. The bright yellow pants, sonot her color,
really emphasized her bubble butt.



Rogue put her long green sweater sleeve over her nose. “Nastiness central,” xshe mumbled, where PUnchline could barely hear her.

“Weak,” Wanda taunted, rotating her butt as she leaned forward. “Let me show you what real farts smell like.”

She grunted, and punched her butt through her jeans.




“Are those supposed to be your version of stinky gusts?” Harley jeered. “Because they are far subpar.”

“You think you can actually do better?” Wanda asked, nto pausing in wagging her own butt.
“Unleash your worst.”

“No, you’re not worthy of smelling my worst yet,” Harley rejoined.

“Excuse me? That’s no way to speak to a mutant that is about to trounce you in a fart contest.”

“Well, take these farts then, since you claim that my emissions are in need of improvement,” Harley said.

“Watch it, or I’ll give you a pilgrim’s suit instead of those yellow pants.”

“These visionary powers are first class lame. Unless you can imagine yourself into having a weak nose so you can suffer when you smell THIS!”




Harley sighed from these releases, so glad they had come out, for that gas had been hurting her butt as it waited to emerge, like a lemur grappling with a gopher, if such animals did such things. Harley didn’t know much about nature but Joker’s arch-nemesis dressed as a bat so...well, whatever, she was glad to be free of that spurt.

Rogue had to drop to her knees to breathe.

“You’re an amateur at this stink-producing thing,” Wanda said. “You should just surrender already.”

“Nonsense,” Harley said. They were both still swiveling their asses. “Rogue and Punchline haven’t even entered the fray yet.”

“Yeah, well, whatever, take this stink,” Wanda said.




“Whoa, are your farts really powered by watermelon?” Harley asked, sniffing and giggling.
“You think fruit-powered farts can stop us?”

“Easy now, I didn’t know we were going to engage in this challenge when I scarfed down that watermelon. But I have tons of nasty surprises in store, coming up soon.”

“Well, take THIS nasty surprise!” Harley said, her ass ripping off a massive fart.




Rogue was gagging so hard, she got down on her stomach.

“You know, the way to fight her gas is to fart yourself,” Wanda said, arms folded. She seemed to be acting like nonchalance would irritate Harley enough that she’d stop releasing as stinky of farts as her anus would push out, or just surrender, because of Wanda being unfazed.

“Punchline, you should take the next round, my ass needs a bit of a break,” Harley said, skipping over to an empty bench.

“Wait, we need to undo this vision,” Wanda said. “Our first job in the next stage of this fart battle is clear the nightclub.”

“But I like the sun, it makes my butt feel so much stronger,” Harley cooed.

“Yeah, yeah, goodbye sun,” Wanda said, and the nightclub reappeared. All the kids and prams with dozing or wailing infants were gone, some people were at the pool table, others at a pinball machine, one was at a jukebox that had modern music, he had on a jean jacket and slipped a dollar bill in, then a KPOP song started, something from a group called Blackpink.
There were also some guys and gals throwing darts at a multi-hued dartboard.

“Fish-eye!” a dude over there shouted.

None of them seemed to have any clue that a few seconds before they had been out at a

“Okay, you have two choices,” Wanda said to PUnchline. Rogue was still on her stomach, though obviously now on the floor of the nightclub instead of pavement for a walking area around a park, and rather than a bench, Harley was plopped in the lap of some dude with sideburns. Punchline turned to Wanda, curious what she was going to say. “You can either give up now, or help we work to stink up this place so much that these people leave.”

“She’s not surrendering,” Harley said. “Her farts are monstrous.”

“Fine then,” Wanda said. “Prove it.”

“Yo, sweetcheeks,” Sideburns said to Harley. “You’re already sitting on me, how’s about you give me a lap dance?”

She smirked. “Er, sure thing, loser.”

Harley started rotating her ass across Sideburns’ lap. Up, down, to the side. She seemed to be enjoying herself, gigling.

Punchline didn’t know why she was doing this, until…


“Ewwwwww, you farted!” Sideburns screamed, shoving Harley off. “I was supposed to wear
these pants to a dance tomorrow night~ But now they’re soaked! There’s no way the dry-cleaners can have them ready in time. Also, how did your fart juice break through your skirt and panties?”

“Duh, I pulled them down a little when you weren’t looking,” Harley said, erupting into a fit of raucous laughter.

Sideburns stormed in the direction of the exit.

Rogue got off the floor and came over to high-five Harley.

“Yo, don’t do that with a member from the opposing team,” Wanda snarled.

“You’ve got to congratulate a girl on fart tactics for scaring off a horny dude, especially since she wound up on his lap due to your visionary powers.”

“Fine, but it’s time for me and Punchline to clear this entire nightclub,” Wanda said, staring into the eyes of Joker’s girlfriend. “Unless you’re willing to surrender, because it’s pointless for you to think you can defeat mutants in a flatulence war.”

Punchline shook her pretty head, her long cascade on black hair in an adorable thick braid swaying. “No way, you don’t intimidate me at all, Wanda.”

“Sure, I don’t,” Wanda said. “But you haven’t seen what my power can really do.”
They were nose to nose.

Harley sat on the edge of a table, pushing her feet onto the back of the chair tilting it. “Go on, Clear this place out so we can get to the real challenge.”

“You take that side, I’ll take this side,” Wanda said. She moved closer to the bartender’s station.

“I thought we were going to do this together,” Punchline pouted.
“We’re opposing teams,” Harley reminded her. “This could be a test, anyway, to see how long it takes you to clear this side versus how long it akes her over there.”

“But fewer people are over on that side of the nightclub,” Punchline pointed out.

“Than you’ve got to fart harder,” Harley said, as if that was obvious.

“I hope my butt is strong enough, then,” Punchline said. She backed toward a table with several people around it, college girls who throats had been doused with hard liquor and who were giggling with three dudes. They were joking around and certainly not expecting to inhale malodorous gas fresh from a girl’s anus.



“Absolutely disgusting!” said one of the college girls, who wasn’t really drunk like the other six around the table. Or barely, anyway. “Why the heck would you fart in public like that?”
“Girls should fart in public more,” Punchline said. “Also, I’m not done.”

Her ass rumbled.


The college girls leapt to their feet, knocking chairs over and clutching their noses. One dude pulled his polo off and brought it down over him and another girl, probably one he was dating, while another guy told them what directions to go toward the exit.

“That was fun,” Punchline said. “Time to go stink up the pool table.”

She ran at it and jumped at the split second after a shot had been made. She was on her stomach and shook her ass while one of the guys playing, who had bulging muscles from his sleeveless shirt. watched, his eyes nearly popping out from excitement. while the other boy, who had glasses, glared at her and growled.

“Yo, you’re ruining our game.”

“Oh, go and kiss my butt,” Punchline said. “Actually, don’t, your lips are unworthy.”
She purred. Glasses dude glared and made fists, ready to punch her.

“Am I worthy?” the muscled dude said. “Well, of course I am.” Without invitation, he flung himself on her legs and puckered his lips, smooching her posterior through that purple skirt.

Perfect, she could release much stinkier gas if her butt felt adored. As well as more wide-spreading.




The brawny guy withdrew his lips with a big smacking sound, and yelped from the gas that had swooped up his nostrils, fresh from her sphincter.

Glasses dude actually raised his fists and prepared to jab Punchline in the face.

“I knew there was a reason I should bring this,” Harley said, giggling. She held the giant mallet which she had stashed under a table and swung down on glasses dude’s cranium, knocking him out.

The others who had been around the pool table fled att he nasty flatulence theyhad inhaled. One girl and her boyfriend tried to station themselves near the bartender’s counter, only to take in Wanda’s terrible gas.

“Who invited farting girls to a hip nightclub?” the girl said.

“It was the bouncer who let them in,” her boyfriend pointed out. “Perhaps he knows them.”

Punchline imagined Joker acting as a bouncer then going barking mad at some imbeciles who thought they could get in. The picture of his expression in in her mind caused her to smile, and her butt to be ready to produce more malorodus emissions.




“Go far, my gas,” she said cutely, wafting it away.

Tables cleared, the people throwing darts dropped to their knees and started moving on them toward the doors. Even though running would’ve been faster, they seemed to believe that on their knees they were inhaling less gas, plus Wanda was closer to the exit and they’d have to go through her fog as well.

Rogue decided to play her own game, she launched at one of the knee-crawling people and slammed his head into the wall.

“Look, buster, I need to fart too, and you’re going to sniff them.”

She started tickling him and he began laughing, he tried to scream through his mirth, too ticklish to withstand this, but it didn’t work quite right and he also caught whiffs of the foul gas swirling around on his tongue…

Rogue shoved him downward so he was lying on his back, then slashed his knees with her muddy shoe bottoms so he had to pull them horizontal instead of vertical to evade those shoes.

Rogue stopped slicing at his legs with her sharp soles nd stopped tickling him, bouncing her butt up his chest, settling on his face.

“Extreme fartscoming for you,buster. I suggest you get comfortable. Smooch my posterior a few times. Whatever floats your boat. Whether you do or not, I don’t intend to stop farting for at least ten minutes straight.”

The boy gulped beneath her butt. He tried to shove her off but had zilch luck in his attempt.

“Oh no, you’re not getting away from me, loser,” Rogue said, merrily. Her posterior applied pressure on the poor sap’s face.




The boy beneath Rogue’s ass gagged. He was her fart prisoner though, had no choice but to inhale, nasty as her gusts were. HIs nose and throat both took in her enormous and loud steak farts. And her broccoli-and-cheese ones, which could finish off stone golems, who would smell it even if they didn’t have any olfactory senses, that’s how awful it was.

Harley decided that if Rogue was going to take a fart prisoner in Punchline’s territory, then she should do her worst in Wanda’s. Switch up the teams a little. Or be invaders, however you chose to view it.

So she marched over to the bartender’s counter, where the girl behind it glared at her. “Why are your friends stinking up this joint?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Because the world is a better place with cute girls farting,” Harley said, climbing up on the counter and knocking some glasses over so they shattered on the floor into a hundred thousand pieces.

“Watch it,” the bartender said, glaring.

“You watch this,” Harley said, turning around on the counter so her red skirt was in full view. She shook it vigorgously.

“Hey, scoot off. You’ll scare away the customers from ordering their potent beverages.”

“They’re already leaving in droves,” Harley pointed out. “Also , if you want the least harm fromthe farts I’m about to release, I suggest you pucker your lips and smooch this booty. You have eight seconds. Seven, six, five…”

Beads of sweat poured on the bartender’s forehead. She thought it ridiculous of Harley to suggest smooching her butt. But why did she seem to act like doign so would make her farts less unbearable? Perhaps this was a ploy to put the bartender in a bad situation.

When Harley reached the end of her coutndown, her butt rumbled.




Plumes of fog fueled by Harley’s gas rippling around the

Even though there were no customers xcept for the blokes emerging from the bathroom, surprised to discover how foul the air was out here, the four farting girls, and the dude Rogue was sitting on, the bartender was forced to work her shift till two a.m., which was more than an hour and a half away.

She sighed, pulled a stood she had behind the bar forward, plopped on it, puckered her lips, and pressed them agaisnt Harley’s crimson skirt. She still gagged, taking in the horrible farts the cute blonde produced, but not having a good time inhaling them.

Kissing Harley’s butt didn’t make the gas any less stinky, however, there was something comfortable about it. And she had been invited to smooch this adorable skirt from this goregous girl, so why not have fun doing so? Except the gagging hurt, and her nose was throbbing, she felt super light-headed. It occurred to her that these girls exerting their kinks on the nightclub might actually give it more publicity and make it even more of a hotspot on the morrow.

Of course, peopledidn’t want to inhale gas but if they heard that four adorable girls would possibly permit them to smooch their butts, people would flock in here. Plus, they wouldn’t believe that there’d be so much fart from said girls until they actually came and discovered it for themselves.

Some dudes might think that girls’ farts couldn’t be that stinky (they would be so wrong if they presumed this), but other guys might try to withstand it by imbibing it in immense amounts the way someone might down tons of alcohol to prove they could stomach it all. The whole tough guys have strong bodies schpiel. And noses that could take powerful farts gor long periods of time definitely fit that mold.

The boys who finally deduced the stench was coming from Wanda and Punchline, two pretty girls on opposite sides of the nightclub (the dudes were too out of it by psychedelics), and saw the place was mostly empty, split up and strolled toward the girls, three toward Wanda, and two toward Punchline. But as they got a foot away, two boys in the Wanda group and one meant for Punchline gripped their poor, unshielded throats and dropped on their stomachs.
They started slithering like serpents toward the exit.

The final two boys were tougher and also more daring. They got on their knees, but not to evade the gas. The one nearest Punchline puckered his lips and lifted the hem of her purple
skirt to smooch her panties. Punchline blushed and turned to gaze in wonder, the boy had allowed her skirt to drop over his face, trapping him down there.

“Well, if that’s the way you want it,” she said, softly.

Then she farted again.


The boy didn’t seem to care, and neither did the one who puckered his lips and pushed them against Wanda’s black jeans.

Wanda and Punchline started moving toward each other, leading their fartsniffers over. with them.

“So, whoever knocks their boy out first wins round one for their team,” Wanda announced, sweetly.

“That will be me,” Punchline declared.

“No, me,” Wanda declared.

Both their asses rumbled.



Chili dog farts and cabbage casserole ones slammed into one boy’s nose, while the other one received garlic parmesan wing farts and curly fries ones. But the boys seemed persistent, not wanting to give up on kissing the asses they adored.

It had been more than ten minutes since Rogue started passing gas on the boy, but she wasn’t stopping. He was suffering the most. He was the only one who desperately didn’t want to be here. Even the bartender was enjoying herself. She hadn’t gotten to raise her head to discovershe was the only girl receiving this sort of attention, but she did gloat in the factthat regardless of Harley’s own sexual tendencies, there wouldn’t be too many girls who would get this privilege, to smooch her ass. And imbibe her flatulence, or well, actually many girls could do that, all that was required there would be for Harley to fart in a public place.
Harley also sighed as she farted, which was adorable. The bartender imagined that the blonde was having an orgasm as she passed gas, she even moaned a couple of times. From intense pleasure.

Wanda and PUnchline growled at one another, neither wanting to lose.




Punchline lifted the hem of her skirt, as she finished releasing some terrible taco farts. She loved seeing the boy kissing her panties, his eyes watering at the powerful stench her anus was emitting.

“Okay, I am going to finish this now,” Wanda declared. “No boy can withstand what my ass is about to burst out.”



Even Punchline felt weak as this gas reached her nose. But even though Wanda had released it, this flatulence uncorked the blond dude from kissing Punchline’s ass. Wanda’s fartsniffer also fell backward, but the blond hit the ground a couple seconds quicker, as Wanda’s guy seemed to be fighting it.

Both dudes were knocked out, though Wanda dropped her knees hard on the blond one’s neck to check, he would feel the pain when he regained consciousness, but that wouldn’t be for hours.

“Dammit, I shouldn’t have gotten close to you, ya’ll won this round. All because of my fart. I hate this.”

Rogue loped over. “I could try to knock out the dude over there against Harley for the bartender.”

“No,” Wanda said. “This was the first round, and if you lose to Harley, we’ll be even further behind.” She allowed Rogue to help her to her feet, then she lifted her boot and stomped on
the blond boy’s nose, so he’d be in even more pain when he regained consciousness, and also to let out some of her own frustrations. “Besides, your dude’s getting away.”

Rogue caused her arm to turn into rubber which she stretched twenty-five yards to wrap around the boy, dragging him back. Punchline stared in wonder.

“You being a mutant is pretty cool.”

“Thanks. But honestly if we’re not going to use this rifraff for our fart contest,” Rogue said, her rubber arm stretched all around the boy, pressing him against her chest, “then perhaps we should fart on him together.”

“Sounds good to me,” Wanda said.

“I’m game,” Punchline said.

Rogue tossed the boy down on his back and plopped on his forehead.

“You should sit on his nose,” Wanda said to Punchline, generously.

“But don’t you want to?” the latter asked.
“No, I’m taking his neck.”

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Punchline said.

“I’m sure,” Wanda said, flashing a smile. “We may’ve lost to you for this round, but there will be a few more. We will be the champions in the end.”

Punchline wished she could make a joke, but nothing came to mind at the moment. Nothing that would unnerve Wanda, anyhow.

She sat down on the boy’s face, and then Wanda plopped in Punchline’s lap, rubbed her butt up and down her upper leg.

“Oops, just trying to be cute,” she said.

“We could add that to the rules,” Punchline suggested. “The loser of each round can rub their butts on the legs of one of the winners, or some other adorable place.”

“You’re going to make me want to lose these rounds, talking like that,” Wanda said. Then she slid down Punchline’s leg to land on the dude’s neck.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Don’t you three dare groupfart a loser without me!” Harley exclaimed. She scooted across the countertop like a lemur and ignored the bartender calling her to return. She ran across to where the other girls were and sat sideways on the boy’s chest.

“You three ready?” Rogue asked, her back to the others, so she couldn’t see them.”I’m not sure I can hold these farts in much longer.”

“I’m ready,” Punchline said.

“Absolutely in pilot position here,” said Harley.

“Let’s go,” Wanda said.

So they all shot out theirammuniation, meaty farts, vegetable farts, dairy ones and some slight sugary ones, though

Wanda intended to make that a portion of an upcoming round, which she was sure they would win this those sharp cinnamon danish ones emerged from Rogue’s ass, catapulting with Wanda’s own tamale owns down their loser’s throat. They only got up from him after fifteen minutes of constant sprays. When one of the four asses took a bit of a break, the other three kept going.

When they stood up, their quarry appeared dead.
Punchline held her hand to her mouth. “You don’t suppose he’s actually dead, do you?”

“No,” Wanda said, shaking her head. “Our farts were potent enough to turn him into a bona fide corpse, but he’s still breathing.”

“So what happen now?” Harley asked, not enough looking at the boy whose shirt she had just squirted with fart juice. Since the other girls had been occupying his face and neck, she doubted he would notice her panties lowered her bit and her bare posterior giving him some attention. But now she was filing her nails as if he was nothing more than an irritaitng insect she had forgotten about already.

“Now we have up to eight more rounds,” Wanda said. “The first pair of us to win five are the champions of us four and shall be declared the superior farters.”

“You only added that rule after you lost to us,” Harley accused.

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that this contest was just getting started here int he nightclub,” Wanda said.

“Fine, but we’ll win,” Harley said. “And since we’re in the lead, we could techncially defeat you lickety split if we are victorious the next four rounds in a row.”

“But you won’t be,” Wanda said.

Harley put away her nail-filer and put up her fists. “You want to settle this the old-fashioned way?”

Rogue stepped in front of her. “Just let your ass do the talking,” she said.

Harley turned around and pinched her butt. “Hi, I’m Harley’s ass and I can outfart this Scarlet Witch person.”

“Are we doing butt-smack talk now?” Wanda said. The landscape changed and now Wanda was a giant, fifty-feet tall but sitting down. The other three girls were the same size. Wanda was next to a Skyscraper in some downtown area. She didn’t have her black jeans on but was mooning them.

She pinched her gargantuan ass. “Yo, I’m Wanda’s butt and I shall crush Harley and her partner, who is the punchline of a joke.”

“Hey, turn yourself back to proper size and stop mocking me!” Harley shouted, indignantly.

“Just trying to demonstrate the proper proportions of my posterior’s ability to produce potent stenches as opposed to yours.”

“I’ll show you proper proportions, with my fists. Or my mallet.”

Rogue held Harley back. “Calm down. You can trash talk all you want but save your vehemence for the battlefield. Er, buttlefield. That works as a pun. Battlefield and butts.”

“Actually, I think it’s a portmanteau,” Punchline supplied.

Rogue flashed her a smile, and Punchline returned it. Then the vision Wanda portrayed went
away and she had her dark jeans on again.

“Okay, girls, we should prepare for round two,” Wanda said, clearly the leader of this operation. She smirked at Harley Quinn seething at her, fists at her waist. “You can eat whatever you want tomorrow for fart fuel, but in future rounds we might have to eat more specific foods. I will send you the rules as I come up with them, or I might only tell you what you need to know to prep for the next round each time. I’ll decide later.”

“Why do you get to decide all this?” Harley asked.

“Because I’m organized,” Wanda said. “I have to be, or I’d lose my grip on my visions and go insane. You can question my mentor Dr. Strange about all that if you don’t believe me.”

“But we were the winners,” Harley said, pressing her hand to her chest and then moving to to Punchline’s. “We should get to choose the next round and how it goes.”

“No,” Wanda said. “I don’t trust you to devise any future rounds properly.”

“Perhaps you should let her plan something,” Rogue advised, as Harley went red in the face from wrath.

“Okay, I’ll be reasonable,” Wanda said, with one eye closed. “If she can win the next two rounds in a row, then she can plan round four. It’ll be the worst portion of this contest but I’ll allow it.”

“Good, I’ll come up with an amazing challenge,” Harley said. “Something you’ll hate though. But anything that irks you makes me happy.”

“Swell, you’re frenemies already,” Rogue said.

“More like rivals,” Wanda grumbled.

“Come on, Punchline,” Harley said. “Let’s go grab my mallet then leave. I suggest we hit someplace that is open late for some food that will smell so terrible emerging from our asses tomorrow.”

Punchline had been planning to spend the next evening with Joker, perhaps robb ing a bank or doing something else despicable, but this would be much more fun.

“Sure, sounds like a plan,” she said.

Meanwhile, behind them, Rogue gripped Wanda and used a teleportation power she had borrowed to take them straight to a place where they could scarf down meaty food for fart fuel.

“Taco Bell time!” Harley declared, holding the mallet behind her back. She and Punchline made their way toward the exit.

“Wait!” the bartender said, sliding in front of them.

“Out of the way, toots, we’ve got to go eat for our fart contest,” Harley said, jovially.

“But...I need to kiss your butt!”

“We’re over that now, see ya.”

“Please!” the bartender begged, dropping to her knees and having her hands in supplicating position right below her chin.

“Fine, we’ll fart on you for a few minutes, both of us. Not like the gas I have stored in my butt will last till tomrorow anyway. Think you can join me in this, Punchline?”

“Well, you already offered me to do so, and I am still gassy, so sure,” Punchline said.
Harley dropped her giant mallet, then she and Punchline each set one buttcheek to the bartender’s face. One behind a crimson skirt, the other a lavender one.




The bartender inhaled Punchline’s lasagna farts and Harley’s cheesburger ones with glee. These lasted seven minutes before Harley insisted it was time to leave, and the bartender was in such a fit of ecstasy that she continued to suck in the air after they had gone, hoping to swallow all of their lingering fart particles. She didn’t care that she was gagging, that her throat hurt, that her nose was suffering. Being dominated by those butts was first-class treatment. She hoped they’d come the next night, but she wanted them to herself. Well, especially Harley. But Punchline emitting sulfur in her face was a pleasure as well.