“I’m ready.” You tell her, and she nods, gesturing over to her writing desk.
“Get into position. I’ll - ugh get myself over there when I can.”
You head towards the desk, and as you do quickly realize the chair Twilight has against her desk isn’t ordinary at all; a large oval shape is cut into the seat of the chair and below it sits a large box. You can only assume this is where your head goes.
It’s a slightly awkward angle to get yourself into; you need to lie back so that your legs and arms are coming away from the desk and your head sits just under, pointing towards the wall.
Taking one final breath of fresh air and savoring it, you get down and shove your head into the box. It’s padded and actually quite comfortable inside.
There are also slits in the side of the box to let in the light, but seem to have been fitted with glass to keep in the smell.
After a few moments of getting used to this compartment and what you’re about to endure, Twilight manages to get herself over to her desk and takes a seat, immediately blocking out some of the light, but you’re able to make out the sight of her spread cheeks less than two inches away from your face; her tailhole sits, pursing slightly about level with your muzzle, and her marehood is directly above your forehead, half visible through the oval gap and half not.
The smell of her bare nethers isn’t bad at all; slightly sweaty but you can tell she cleans well and often.
It seems like you can hear her fairly well from down here, too as she sighs, despite the box feeling quite sealed.
It wasn’t long before she let out her first fart, windy and gushing from her puckered anus.
brrooooooo
You could feel the hot wind fill up the box, and the smell soon followed.
holy Celestia, it was not good. Your first instinct was to try and reach your hoof up to your nostrils, but realized quickly that this wasn’t possible.
You had to just lie, face scrunched and contorted as the impossibly sharp and foul smell found its way into your nostrils.
You could smell the damage the exotic, aromatic spices had done to Twilight’s poor stomach; the resulting smell of her fart was like a cloyingly bitter mix of curry and mustard - sweet yet unmistakably the smell of flatulence.
“Sorry. I hope it’s not too bad down there.” She shuffled to get comfortable and you could hear her start to write.
To be honest, it was too bad, but what could you do? You’d already agreed to help Twilight with this most intimidate and disgusting deed, and it was definitely on the edge of bearable, even if it made your stomach turn and your nose burn and ache. You certainly never imagined that the princess of friendship could be so incredibly stinky.
“It’s really an amazing place, though.” She started, making casual conversation as if she hadn’t just ripped a fart right into your face, “there are so many old ruins and pieces of history! I’d love to take another visit there someday - only I think next time I’ll bring a packed lunch.”
The last word or two are drowned out by another blast of gas, this time slightly spluttery and inconsistent. The box seems to somewhat muffle the sound too.
That same strong smell washes over you about a second later. You expect to be somehow used to it, but it hits just as hard as before. Another fart, this one moist-sounding, dribbles out and you hear her sigh in relief.
“Sorry.” She apologises again, though you’re not sure why. You can tell this is something she’s fairly embarrassed about, especially in front of you.
“I have to say, though, you’re doing a very good job! I can’t smell anything.”
You’re not surprised with how intense the smell has been for you and how airtight this chamber seems to be.
You can hear her quill scribbling on paper above you, still swimming in the vestigial smell of her emissions.
You can also occasionally hear her stomach working away and digesting; ominously low growling sounds that end in little internal squirts and whines. Her stomach is clearly doing its best to evacuate the foreign spices and the hefty dairy with equally hefty farts.
She winced in pain as you simultaneously heard a rupturing rolling thunderous growl come from somewhere up above you in the princess’ inner workings, and less than five seconds later were blitzed with a hot steamy hiss and an immediately repugnant curry smell, exactly like baked onions and rancid tomatoes thrown together with that same lingering mustardy undertone.
She gasped loudly after this airy, sultry stream of fetid gas had left her bowels; with every fart she was probably feeling gradually better, so at least you didn’t have to endure this forever.
Your eyes teared up at the sides and you felt your nose was scrunched up, cringing as you took deep sniffs that seemed to cleanse the back of your nose and mouth like menthol.
There was no getting used to the smell, but you wanted to help Twilight however you could. That was why you were here, after all. This probably wasn’t a job that many ponies were willing to do, and in that way you felt quite fortunate.
The rump above you raised up as Twilight leaned forwards and lifted herself up and away from the seat.
“Let me just give you a little air. We wouldn’t want you, y’know, passing out or anything.” She giggled bashfully. What an adorable dork.
You could see her looking down at you in the box. “Comfortable?” She grinned, but before you had the chance to answer the residual smell had clearly wafted up to her and she recoiled, eyes shut tightly and tongue distended.
“Ack! Wow! That is...” she blushed, holding her hoof over her muzzle and opening the window a little more, then spraying some more air freshener around her.
“Sorry. I don’t think there’s... much more.”
She gives you a few more moments to savor the relatively fresh air and give your lungs a rest before unexpectedly letting a loud fart out into the room above you. You can tell by the look on her face this was accidentally and she quickly sits back down again.
Your eyes readjust to the reduced light and the same view as before; her winking anus that sticks out, puffy, and like a bomb could go off unexpectedly at any time.
The remainder of your session together goes past surprisingly quickly. Every couple of minutes she tenses up and blasts another airy fart into your little box, which you promptly inhale. It still burns, but you manage to breathe most of it in.
They all have the same stench, too, but the last two or three farts seem slightly more potent. So much so that the final whispery one she dispels into the box actually makes you cough.
“Oh, are you okay!?” She gets up and peers down into your headrest, but you assure her you’re fine.
“I think that’s all of it. Well... to be perfectly honest, I think I need to use the little fillies’ room, and... yeah...” she starts blushing again and trails off, clearly too embarrassed to tell you she’d rather not risk letting out more than just gas onto your face.
As bad as her farts are to sniff point blank, at least you’re spared the ablutions. You don’t even want to imagine the sorry state she’ll leave the toilet in; you got the impression whatever she ate in Cheneigh didn’t agree with her at all. Hopefully the next time you had to assist her in this way her stomach wouldn’t be quite so upset and as a result her farts wouldn’t be quite so strong.
Using her magic, Twilight opens up the box again and you pull yourself out, glad to feel clean air on your now sweaty face.
“anyway if you’ll excuse me..” the princess bids you goodbye and leaves fairly hastily to visit the bathroom.
“Will you need my services again this evening?” You ask her just before she leaves.
“Oh, no. You did a great job. Thanks.” With that, she doesn’t stay around any longer and the short, wet fart that accidentally slips out from her cheeks tells you it’s best she doesn’t.
It’s nice to take a moment to relax. You sit on Twilight’s bed for a moment, looking around at how neat and nicely-decorated her room is. You’d expect nothing less from a princess.
It’s starting to get a little late, and it seems like a good time to get back to your room next door and sleep after such a busy day. However, you decide a quick shower first wouldn’t go amiss.
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