For roughly a minute and a half, the two girls continued ripping ass against each other, seemingly with no victor in sight. Every fart that Marinette blasted, Alya would retaliate with one just as loud and foul. The two teenagers were creating a miasma of fetid air from their bubbly rears, but if they were bothered by the smell in any way, they didn’t show it. Instead, the two continued to blow out foul gas from their backsides, smiling and giggling as they attempted to outgas the other.
Alya hiked her right leg up, pointing her butt straight at Marinette. A grunt emerged from her throat, and then...
BBBBRRRRRFFFFFTTTTT!
“Aaaahhhh!” Alya sighed in relief as the massive ripper shot out from her hindquarters. The moment it entered her nostrils, Marinette hunched over, coughing and sputtering. Her friend’s fart smelled like a mixture of rotting meat and digested macarons. It was so bad that she could actually taste it!
“So how was that?” Alya asked as she looked at the coughing Marinette. “You ready to admit defeat, girl?” As she asked this, she offered her hand to Marinette, intent on closing the deal with a handshake. For a moment, the fashion designer seemed to consider it, but this soon changed as she heard a low, ominous gurgle from her stomach. Realizing what this meant, Marinette responded with a smirk, causing Alya to become confused.
Then, before her friend could retract her arm, Marinette grabbed hold of it and, using her enhanced agility to flip around and reposition herself. Alya now found herself staring directly at Marinette’s titanic cheeks, and judging from how she could feel them subtly shaking, it was clear the Ladybug was preparing to release a real monster!
“Never!” Marinette said, speaking in a faux dramatic fashion as she pushed her jean-clad ass in Alya’s face. Then, with a throaty grunt-
BBBRRRPPPPPP
A gale of green gas smacked the Creole-French girl in the face, causing her eyes to widen as she felt it go up her nose. Not only did Marinette’s fart smell foul, it seemed the fabric in her jeans had somehow made it worse! The gas actually seemed to be getting absorbed into the jeans, forcing Césaire to sniff up both the fresh and stored up gas. She moaned as Marinette sighed in relief, with both feeling the fart gradually taper off. Once the chainsaw-like toot had come to an end, the fashion designer released her grip, allowing her friend to stumble back.
“Looks like I’m the winner this time, right, Alya?” Dupain-Cheng asked as she confidently slapped her butt, causing it to jiggle slightly.
“Yeah, phew, you win, Marinette.” Alya admitted as she took deep breaths. In between these breaths, however, she could feel... something within her. Curious, she breathed again, only to be met with the smell of Marinette’s gas. Now, Alya was no stranger to farts; she was more than used to her own brand. What was odd, however, was her reaction. Every time the Creole-French girl breathed in more of her friend’s dissipating fumes, she began to feel a sense of... arousal?
Confused, she breathed in again, only to be meant with a small jolt of pleasure through her body. A second inhale, and she felt even more pleasure build up in her. There was no lying to herself. She was actually getting turned on by Marinette’s farts!
Marinette, meanwhile, was getting somewhat worried. Alya seemed to still be breathing heavily, and she didn’t seem to be stopping.
“Um, Alya. Are you alright?” Marinette asked, turning to face her friend.
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