You've just been contracted as a production assistant to help Ame with her medley of VR-related projects. Mainly you'd be coordinating with artists, setting deadlines, and quality-checking every step of the project pipeline. Ame insists the two of you work side-by-side for the sake of efficiency, so you drive up to her place and give a few quick knocks at the entryway. She ushers you inside and leads you to her bedroom where you'll be spending most of the next three months.
Your “office” is a dinky laptop on an upturned plastic crate in the corner of Ame's bedroom. There's no chair to speak of, so it seems you'll be doing your job sitting on the floor. With her bed and dressers pressing in on all sides, the room feels barely spacious enough for the two of you to stand in, let alone be productive in. It's a cramped, muggy box littered with dirty laundry and the lack of A/C keeps the air inside at temperatures somewhere between sweltering and heat-stroke. The very first breath you take draws the stench of Ame's well-worn socks, bras, and panties deep into your lungs. They were scattered across every surface in her room and the sun beaming down on them seemed to bring out their latent aroma. You might as well have buried your head in her hamper.
As much as you would have liked to open a window or ask Ame to tidy up, management gave you strict instructions on how to carry yourself in her presence. Remain silent, follow her directions to the letter, and, above all else, stay out of her way. They had made it more than clear that the slightest hint of disobedience would remove you from the project and blacklist you from any other opportunities in the area. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and sat down at your station, hoping to start the first day on the right foot.
Five hours later and things were just as bad as you'd initially feared. Not only were you sore and sweating through your shirt, but Ame's incessant eating habits were starting to get to you. Try as you might to focus on your screen, the chewing and gulping noises from a few feet away kept dragging you out of the zone. She scarfed down bagels for breakfast, pizza for lunch, and was currently happily munching away at an entire loaf of white bread. For someone with such an intense gluten intolerance, she didn't seem to mind stuffing her face with so many bread-based foodstuffs. You sigh and continue clacking away at your keyboard. Next time you'd bring some headphones.
“Okay guys, I'm taking a quick break. I gotta give Bubba a treat.” Your ears perk up as you hear Ame's chair squeak back against the hardwood floor. At least when she opened the door there would be some airflow, you thought. But instead of exiting the room, she walks over to your desk with a sly grin and hands held behind her back. Before you could ask what she was doing, she spins on her heels and presents her wide, skirt-covered backside, the material swaying slightly as her body comes to a rest. Your eyes can't help but trace the plaid pattern as it rounds and dives across the generous curves of her rear. Tight black stockings pinch her supple thighs a few inches below, providing a tantalizing preview of her lower body. Your ogling is cut short as she suddenly grips the hem of her skirt and tugs it up over her hips. Her thick bubble butt now fills your view, dripping with sweat and spilling out of a pair of off-white panties too small to cover even half of her ass. Splotches of her underwear are almost see through after being soaked in so much of her juices.
You're paralyzed. Unwilling to speak or more a muscle lest it offend her and lead to your termination.
She rocks back and forth on her heels and shimmies backward until you're close enough to feel the heat wafting off her cheeks. “Ah, okay, hold on riiight there...” She clenches her teeth and rips a loud, sloppy fart right in your face. It drones on for a few seconds before petering out in a wet gurgle, bathing your features in a foul, warm wind. “Ahhh, been holdin' that one for a while!” You choke back tears in the muggy aftermath of her release, hoping to at least keep your retching inaudible. The stench is utterly rancid, no doubt brewing in her gut since the first meal of the day, and you could feel the reeking cloud of semi-liquid vapor soaking into your tongue and nostrils.
Ame looks back over her shoulder and smiles. “Heh, yeah, it usually takes a while for them to kick in, but there's gonna be a lot more now! Speaking of...” Her stomach grumbles violently, prompting her to lean forward and wring her skirt between her fingers. Her new position wedges her panties even deeper into her crack, essentially now mooning you with her bare cheeks. With sweat pouring down her face, Ame grunts and blasts another wave of bubbly farts from her gaping asshole. There's so much ass fat to get through that her cheeks barely jiggle on release. The smell is just as strong as before, washing over your face like an eggy sauna and sending you into another fit of dry heaving. She lets a few more squeak out and then starts flapping the back of her skirt up and down, making sure any lingering clouds of gas in her crack or beneath her clothes end up on your face. “Ugh, jeez, they're really bad today, huh?” She giggles and lets her skirt drop down while you silently writhe in your seat, fighting to keep your stomach from somersaulting.
Without saying another word, she walks back to her seat and flicks on the mic. “Okay, guys I'm back. Sorry, Bubba's being really annoying today so I might have to step out again later.” She gives you a sideways glance. “We'll see how it goes.” She reaches below her desk, pulls out a box of donuts and tears open the top.
Such was your tortuous existence for the next few hours. She'd stream for a bit, make up an excuse to break, and skip over to thoroughly gas out your workstation. You now understood why she didn't provide you with a chair; it left your face at the perfect height to huff her farts. You tried holding your breath a few times, but that always backfired. She'd stand there, looking down on you with hands on her hips, and simply waited to unload until your oxygen-starved lungs had to take a big, deep breath. Even without her constant additions, the air around you had become a choking miasma of her various odors. Ame's sweat, piss, farts, and old laundry all swirled together in the sealed-off biohazardous containment zone she called her bedroom. You'd forgotten what clean air smelled or tasted like at this point.
The smallest mercy you were afforded was when, instead of going to you, Ame would occasionally lean over in her seat and blast especially wet farts deep into the cushion beneath her. The sounds were greatly muffled but you could tell how raunchy they must be from how much she strained and grunted. The air in the room may be bad, but it surely had nothing on whatever hellish odor was fermenting under there.
Eventually the small clock in the bottom right corner of your laptop finally flips to six o'clock. The day was over. You stretch your aching body and get to your feet, relived beyond measure that you could finally leave this blond girl's cesspool and settle down for the night. You ask her where your bedroom is and she laughs. “We're supposed to be a team, remember? That doesn't end when the sun goes down!” She unsticks herself from her streaming chair and holds out the cushion she'd been destroying with her ass since sunrise. It sags heavily in her hands after being drowned in Ame's butt sweat and absorbing dozens of wet, sloppy gluten farts. The smeary imprint of her heart-shaped ass, plump pussy lips, and thick thighs is clearly visible against the discolored purple fabric.
“You'll sleep on the floor next to me, alright? I already got you a pillow!” She drops her fart cushion to ground with a squelching slap. A small puddle is already forming at the sides. “And uh...it's been pretty hectic trying to prepare all these upcoming streams so I mayyy have forgotten to wipe a few times this week...”
You try really hard to forget that last sentence as you lower yourself to the ground. As long as you rest the back of your head on it, it wouldn't be that bad, right? A soggy pillow is pretty gross but at least you wouldn't have to smell it. Ame's foot suddenly pokes into your shoulder, bringing you to a stop. “Oh! I've been reading that sleeping on your back is actually bad for you, cuz, like...it messes up your breathing during the night. Teammates are only allowed to sleep on their stomach, got it?”
You groan and flip over. The stench hits you like a slap to the face, the repulsive, greasy layers of Ame's coagulated emissions mere inches below you. This was too much, right? You had to say something, anything, to get her to ease off! As you hover in indecision, Ame' foot crashes down onto your head and slams your face against the cushion, bearing down with her whole weight and forcing your lips and nose against what was essentially her secondary toilet. Through fits of gremlin laughter, she grinds the stink into your face for a few seconds before stepping forward off your skull and climbing into bed. “There you go! Good work today, teammate!” You hear a shuffling beneath her covers and see her flick her panties across the room. “Don't get too comfy though...I may have to use you later tonight.
You didn't want to think about what that meant.