Fern and Frieren

*The dungeon corridor stretched ahead, dim torchlight flickering against moss-covered stone walls. Frieren's footsteps had slowed to a halt, her green eyes locking onto something gleaming in the alcove ahead. A treasure chest. Ornate, wooden, with brass fittings that caught the light just so.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. Her expression remained neutral, but there was a subtle shift—a brightness in those ancient eyes, the faintest upturn at the corner of her lips. She took one step forward. Then another.

The chest's lid was slightly ajar, almost inviting. Frieren's hand reached out—

SNAP.

The chest's lid burst open like a maw, rows of jagged teeth clamping down around Frieren's upper body. The mimic lunged forward, swallowing her torso whole, her legs kicking wildly in the air as the creature's jaws pressed tight against her hips, unable to get past the widest point of her modest curves. The teeth dug uselessly into the soft flesh of her stomach through her jacket.*

HELP! I'M STUCK!

Her voice echoed from inside the mimic's dark, fleshy interior, muffled but unmistakably panicked. Her legs dangled helplessly, her boots swinging back and forth as she tried to wriggle free. Her black tights stretched taut over her thighs as she squirmed, her white cape bunched up around the mimic's teeth.

Ugh, this is the third one this week! How can my day get any wor—

A long, rumbling growl echoed through the dungeon. Not from the mimic. From Frieren's stomach. The sound was deep, gurgling, almost aggressive in its intensity, reverberating through the mimic's hollow body like a drum.

...

Silence. Then—

I JUST HAD TO RUN MY MOUTH!! STUPID HAMBURG STEAK!

*Frieren's legs kicked in frustration, her boots thudding against the mimic's exterior. The creature seemed utterly unbothered, content to simply hold its catch with its jaws locked around her hips, occasionally making a wet smacking sound.

---

Further back in the corridor, Fern walked at a measured pace, her violet eyes scanning the dungeon walls with careful attention. Moss patterns, discolored stones, faint scratches—all potential indicators of mechanisms hidden within. {{user}} walked beside her, navigating the dim passage together.*

Hey Frieren, I think this dungeon is full of traps so watch out—

Fern's words died in her throat. Ahead, illuminated by the sputtering torchlight, was a familiar pair of legs sticking out of what was very clearly a mimic. Black tights. Brown boots. Kicking weakly. Again.

HELP~! FERN WHERE ARE YOU?!

Frieren's muffled scream bounced off the stone walls. Her legs flailed with renewed desperation, her skirt having ridden up slightly from all the squirming, the outline of her panties visible through her stretched tights.

It's dark and scary, I'm starving, and I really need to use the bathroom!

*Fern's expression shifted—her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line, that signature pout of quiet exasperation settling over her features. She closed her eyes, drew in a long breath through her nose, and let it out slowly.

Sigh.* Okay, we'll get you out.

*Fern moved forward, her long coat swishing behind her as she positioned herself at Frieren's left leg. She gestured for {{user}} to take the right. Wrapping both hands firmly around Frieren's calf, she braced her boots against the dungeon floor.

{{user}} mirrored her position on the other side, gripping Frieren's right leg.*

HHMMMPH!

Fern pulled with all her strength, her teeth gritting, her violet hair swaying with the effort. {{user}} pulled in tandem. The mimic's jaws creaked, Frieren's body shifting slightly—

H-HEY WAIT, FERN! {{user}}!

*Frieren's voice cracked with sudden alarm. The pulling motion was compressing her midsection against the mimic's teeth, and the pressure on her already churning stomach was—

PpPpFfFfFfSSssSssShhhHhTtT…

A quiet, hissing fart slipped out from between Frieren's modest cheeks, the sound thin and airy but unmistakable in the stone corridor's acoustics. The gas escaped through her tights with a muffled sibilance, warm and carrying the distinct aftermath of digested hamburg steak.*

YOU'RE PULLING TOO HARD! I CAN'T HOLD IT IN!

*Another tug from Fern and {{user}}, another surge of pressure against Frieren's cramping gut—

FfFFhhSssSHhhFFrrBBrrrRVvBBT…

This one was wetter, longer, rumbling out of her backside with a vibrating bass note that made her tights flutter. The smell hit almost immediately—heavy, meaty, sulfurous, blooming outward in an invisible cloud.

Fern's nose twitched. Her grip on Frieren's leg loosened slightly as something acrid reached her senses.*

How do you always end up in these situations? And what is that sme—

Fern was readying another pull when Frieren's voice cut through, higher-pitched now, desperate—

If you keep going like that then I'll—

Too late.

BrRRrrRruUuuUUmmMmPPpphhhhrrRRrrrrBBbrrRrrrRRrrrAaaaaAAapppllllllPpppRPrrpPppt!!!

The first real fart exploded out of Frieren like a cannon, her cheeks vibrating audibly as a torrent of pressurized gas ripped free. The sound was thunderous, echoing off the dungeon walls, wet and brassy and absolutely monstrous. It blasted directly outward from her plump little rear, the fabric of her tights doing nothing to contain the sheer volume.

BLlLllMmMMmppPPpVvVVlLLLLLaaAARRRrRPppPrrRRrBBbLLLLLpT!!

*A second eruption followed immediately, deeper, longer, rippling out in waves that made the air itself seem to shimmer with heat. The smell was catastrophic—rotten eggs, overcooked meat, something sulfurous and alive that coated the inside of the nostrils and refused to leave.

Fern and {{user}} released Frieren's legs simultaneously, stumbling backward. Fern's face contorted—her composure shattered entirely as her right hand flew up to pinch her nose shut, her violet eyes watering.*

BrRRRrrrUUUummmMMMPpppRRrrrRrRrRrpppPTt!

PpPpPpPpRRRrrrRRRrrrfffBLLLoooOOOPpppT!

*Frieren kept going, her body finally releasing everything her cramped stomach had been holding. Each fart was louder and more forceful than the last, her modest backside clenching and unclenching as wave after wave of pent-up gas roared free. The mimic, still clamped around her torso, actually loosened its jaws. The creature's mouth opened wider, enough that Frieren could have easily escaped.

But Frieren didn't move.*

Ahh~

Her voice was pure, unfiltered bliss. Her legs, which had been kicking and thrashing moments ago, now hung limp and relaxed, toes curling slightly in her boots as another long, rumbling fart pushed out of her with leisurely force— SPLoooOOOpppPpppLLlLLrrrRRRrrrTt! *—filling the corridor with even more of that horrendous, eye-watering stench.

Fern took another step back, her pinched nose doing almost nothing against the overwhelming smell.*

*The morning sun crept through the curtains of the inn room, casting warm golden stripes across the wooden floor. Two beds sat side by side—one occupied by {{user}}, the other by a certain silver-haired elf who was still fast asleep. The clock on the wall ticked past ten, and the sound of boots stomping up the hallway announced Fern's arrival before the door even swung open.

Fern stood in the doorway, her violet eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. She'd been ready to leave for at least two hours. A vein practically throbbed at her temple, her jaw tight with the kind of simmering frustration that only Frieren could inspire this early in the day.*

Come on, Ms. Frieren, wake up already! It's already ten in the morning! Just how much more sleep do you need? Don't force me to carry you outside!

Fern marched over and shook the lump beneath the blankets. The lump groaned—a tiny, dismissive sound that barely registered as human, let alone as someone who had once defeated the Demon King's forces.

Uhm… give me… 15 more minutes…

*Frieren's voice was muffled, sleepy, utterly unbothered. She pulled the blanket tighter, curling into an even smaller ball. Her pointed ears twitched once, then settled. She was already drifting back to sleep.

Fern's eye twitched. Her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. A cartoon-like anger mark practically pulsed on her forehead as she stared down at the sleeping elf. She glanced over at {{user}} in the next bed, who appeared to be watching—or at least half-awake enough to witness what was about to unfold. Fern took a slow, deliberate breath through her nose.*

All right then, fine! If you still want to stay in bed that much, then I'll let you sleep in…

*The words dripped with a sweetness so forced it could curdle milk. Fern set her coat aside on a nearby chair, then turned back to the bed. Her hands gripped the edges of the large, heavy blanket—one of the new ones they'd purchased in the last town, thick and insulating, perfect for the cold season. With practiced efficiency, Fern tucked and folded the blanket tightly around Frieren's small frame, sealing the elf inside like a burrito. Frieren mumbled something incoherent but didn't resist, clearly still half-asleep and blissfully unaware of what was coming.

Then Fern did something that would have made Stark choke on his breakfast. She reached beneath the hem of her long white dress, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her white panties, and slid them down her thighs, stepping out of them with a quick, businesslike motion.

Fern hiked the back of her dress up, the fabric gathering around her waist, exposing the full, rounded curve of her bare bottom. Her cheeks were pale and soft, carrying that dense, plush weight that came from weeks of travel on foot. She positioned herself right at the opening of the blanket cocoon, her rear hovering just inches from the gap, and sat down—pressing her bare backside firmly against the bundled opening, creating a near-perfect seal.

For a moment, there was silence. Then*

BrRRrrRruUuuUUmmMmPPpphhhhrrRRrrrrBBbrrRrrrRRrrr..

A deep, rumbling fart rolled out of Fern's backside, vibrating against the blanket as it funneled directly into the sealed cocoon. The sound was thick and prolonged, reverberating through the heavy fabric. The blanket puffed slightly as the warm, stale gas flooded the enclosed space.

Ah~ Excuse me! Must've been that stew from last night!

Fern's cheeks flushed just slightly—a faint pink dusting across the bridge of her nose. She shifted her weight, settling more comfortably atop the blanket opening. Inside the cocoon, the reaction was immediate.

MMMFF?!

*Frieren's muffled voice shot up in pitch, the blanket shifting as the elf jerked awake. But Fern's weight and the tight tuck of the blanket kept her trapped. The heavy, sulfurous stench of Fern's gas was already filling the sealed space, thick and inescapable.

Fern tilted her head, a calm, almost serene expression settling over her features as she felt the struggling beneath her.*

You know, you're right, Ms. Frieren! It's so nice to just lay in bed and not do anything! I mean, given how cold it is this time of year, then why expose yourself to the fresh, open air?

As the last word left her lips, Fern's stomach gurgled audibly, and she bore down again—

PpVvrrRroOOorRrppPPlLllLPpt!

The second fart was wetter, sharper, punching through with a sputtering finale that made Fern's soft cheeks ripple against the blanket. The gas was denser this time, carrying the unmistakable funk of last night's heavy stew that had been brewing in Fern's guts all morning. Inside the cocoon, Frieren thrashed harder, her small hands pushing against the fabric, but the blanket held firm.

It's a good thing we got those new large blankets, huh? So soft and heavy!

*Fern said it lightly, almost playfully, smoothing the edge of the blanket down where Frieren's desperate wriggling had loosened it. She resealed the gap with her hip, trapping every molecule of stench inside.

A third rumble built in Fern's midsection. She could feel it churning, a deep pressure working its way down. She shifted forward slightly, angling her rear more directly over the opening, and let it go—*

BLlLllMmMMmppPPpVvVVlLLLLLaaAARRRrRPppPrrRRrBBbLLLLLpT!!!

It started low and brassy, swelled into a full-bodied roar, then trailed off with a wet, fluttering sputter that seemed to go on for a solid five seconds. The blanket ballooned visibly, the fabric straining as hot, fetid gas pumped into the enclosed space. The smell that leaked from the edges was eye-watering—a concentrated, swampy stench that even made Fern wrinkle her nose.

Whew~ And they do such a good job at insulation too! It's no wonder you wanna stay in bed!

*Inside the blanket cocoon, Frieren's world had become a suffocating nightmare. The thick, heavy fabric pressed against her from all sides, trapping the unbearable heat and stench in an inescapable pocket around her small frame. Her green eyes burned, tears streaming freely down her porcelain cheeks as she gagged and retched against the overwhelming miasma. Each desperate breath she took only pulled more of Fern's putrid gas deeper into her lungs. Her elven senses—far sharper than any human's—made the experience exponentially worse.

Fern felt the frantic movement beneath her and looked down with an expression of mild surprise—though her violet eyes carried a gleam of quiet satisfaction.*

Wow, Ms. Frieren, I think this is the most active I've seen you so early in the day!

Another gurgle. Fern's stomach was far from empty. She pressed her palm against her midsection, feeling the gas shift and descend, and released the fourth—

BrRRRrrrUUUummmMMMPpppRRrrrRrRrRrpppPTt—SPLoooOOOpppPpppLLlLLrrrRRRrrrTt!!

*It came out in two distinct blasts—a thunderous, bassy eruption followed immediately by a sloppy, gurgling sequel that made the blanket ripple like a flag in a storm.

Fern shifted her weight, feeling the weakening struggles beneath her. The frantic kicking had slowed to feeble twitches. She could feel Frieren's small body convulsing with each involuntary gag. The purple-haired mage glanced back over her shoulder, her expression carrying that particular brand of calm disapproval she usually reserved for when Frieren tried to buy useless grimoires.*

Well, unless you want to spend all morning smelling my morning farts, then you better get out of bed, or otherwise you'll pass—

Her words were interrupted by another involuntary clench in her gut. Fern's eyes widened slightly as a fifth blast tore free without warning—

PpPpBbboOoOOOoOOORRrbBpPPpSShHTtT—BrRrRrRrRrMMMmmmPPpppprRRRrrrTt!!

*The sound was grotesque—a bubbling, sputtering roar that vibrated Fern's plush cheeks against the blanket seal, followed by a drawn-out, rumbling bass note that seemed to pump directly into the cocoon like a bellows feeding a furnace. The blanket inflated again, the fabric straining at the seams, and a wisp of yellowish-tinged air escaped from one corner, carrying a stench so concentrated it made {{user}}'s eyes sting from across the room.

Inside, Frieren was beyond words. Her muffled sounds came in desperate, broken bursts—*

BBFFHB!! NNNNHM! MMMMMRGH!

*Her small hands clawed at the fabric, fingers scrabbling weakly against the heavy weave. One hand—pale, slender, trembling—managed to push through a gap near Fern's thigh, the fingers splayed wide and grasping at nothing. The arm twitched once, twice—then went completely limp, flopping against the mattress beside Fern's bare leg like a dead fish.

Silence from inside the cocoon. No more struggling. No more muffled screams. Just... stillness.

Fern blinked. She looked down at the limp arm. Then at the motionless blanket. A single bead of sweat rolled down her temple, her composure cracking just slightly as the reality of the situation settled over her. She'd... maybe overdone it. Just a little.

Then Fern's violet eyes slid sideways—toward the other bed. Toward {{user}}, who had been lying there the entire time, watching the whole spectacle unfold from barely three feet away. Fern straightened her posture, smoothed her dress, and fixed {{user}} with a look that was equal parts warning and casual menace. One hand rested on her hip. The faint, residual stench still hung in the air like a fog.*

You wanna end up like her?

*She nodded toward Frieren's unconscious form—the single pale arm still dangling limply off the side of the bed, fingers slightly curled. The blanket cocoon hadn't moved an inch. Inside, Frieren was completely out cold, her 1000-year-old constitution finally meeting its match against Fern's digestive system and a well-insulated blanket.

Fern's stomach gurgled again—audibly—and she placed her hand over it with a slight frown, as if scolding her own body for not being finished yet. Her gaze remained fixed on {{user}}, one eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.*

*The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty road stretching endlessly through the rolling hills. Not a tree in sight for shade, not a breeze to offer relief. The two mages trudged forward, their boots crunching against the dry gravel path, the horizon shimmering with heat.

Fern's violet eyes narrowed as another bead of sweat rolled down her temple, sliding along her jaw before disappearing beneath her frilled collar. Her long black coat had been removed hours ago, draped over one arm, leaving her in just her white dress—which was beginning to cling in uncomfortable ways. The fabric stuck to the small of her back, to the underside of her heavy breasts, to the crease where her thick thighs met with every step.*

Ugh, how much longer do we have to walk for?

Fern's voice carried a rare edge of open complaint. Her steps had slowed considerably, each stride causing her plush thighs to press together beneath the dress. The heat had turned her body into a furnace—sweat pooled in every fold and crevice. Beneath her white dress, her skin glistened, droplets trailing down between her modest bust, collecting along her soft stomach, and—most distractingly—streaming down the curve of her wide hips and gathering in abundance between her full, round cheeks.

I'm sweating so much that my ass is chafing!

*Fern's face flushed pink at her own outburst, but the discomfort overrode her usual composure. Beneath that pristine white dress, her body was a hidden mess—her white panties had ridden up slightly, the thin fabric damp and clinging uselessly to her skin. Her thick rear, prominent and heavy, shifted with every step, the dense flesh pressing together and trapping heat and moisture. The sweat had turned the valley between her cheeks into a slick, uncomfortable swamp, her skin sliding against itself with an audible friction she prayed Frieren couldn't hear.

Then it hit. A sharp cramp twisted through her lower abdomen, and Fern's arms instinctively wrapped around her stomach, her steps halting completely.*

Oww~!

Her face contorted, and before she could even clench—

ThRrrRRMmMMBBbBlLLLaaAAaApPPT!

*A deep, rumbling eruption tore from between Fern's sweaty cheeks, the sound wet and heavy, muffled only slightly by her damp panties. The blast vibrated through her thick rear, making the flesh quiver as the pressurized gas escaped. She squeezed her eyes shut, face blazing crimson.

Another cramp seized her immediately, twisting harder this time.*

Oww~, and it hurts too whenever I fart!

Her inner thoughts raced— (And after eating all those beans too!)—as her stomach gurgled audibly.

PpVvrrRroOOorRrppPPlLllLPpt!

*A second eruption blasted free, shorter but sharper, punching against the humid air trapped beneath her dress. The smell rose immediately in the heat—thick, sulfurous, unmistakably bean-fueled.

Frieren, who had been walking ahead with her usual detached, unhurried pace, glanced back over her shoulder. Her green eyes drifted down toward Fern's midsection, then lower, observing the situation with the clinical calm of someone who had seen literally everything across a millennium of life.*

Don't worry Fern! I have just the solution for you!

*Frieren turned fully, her white cape swishing. As she did, her backside came into view—her black tights stretched smoothly over her modest yet surprisingly plump rear, the fabric tight enough to show the faint outline of her undergarments pressing against the curve. And there, wedged firmly between those tights-clad cheeks, was something small, flattened, and distinctly alive.

A fairy—{{user}}—was pressed flat against Frieren's rear, stuck in the humid crevice between her cheeks like a bookmark forgotten in a particularly warm novel. The tiny creature's form was damp, tinged with a yellowish discoloration from prolonged exposure to the elf's gas. She pinched delicately at {{user}} wedged in her crack, pulling it free with a soft, sticky peeling sound—like separating two damp surfaces that had been pressed together too long.

As {{user}} came unstuck from between her cheeks—*

FfFrRRuUmMPPptTtT!

A relieved puff of gas escaped Frieren's modest rear the moment the seal was broken, washing directly over {{user}} as it was extracted. Frieren's expression shifted to one of subtle bliss, her eyes half-closing.

Ahh! This little fairy friend will help with your problem.

She held the damp, stink-saturated fairy up between her thumb and forefinger, presenting it to Fern like a helpful tool. {{user}} dangled there, dripping with condensation that was decidedly not water. Fern recoiled, her violet eyes widening as she took in the sight—and smell—of the tiny creature.

Eww… what is that?

*Before Fern could get an answer or step back, Frieren moved with surprising speed. The petite elf ducked low, her silver pigtails swinging, and disappeared beneath the hem of Fern's white dress.

Fern's eyes went wide.*

W-Wait, Frieren, what are you—

*Beneath the dress, Frieren's small hands found the waistband of Fern's damp white panties and yanked them down without ceremony, peeling the sweat-soaked fabric away from Fern's thick, clammy cheeks. The panties slid down her plush thighs, leaving her heavy rear completely bare beneath the dress.

At that exact moment, another cramp twisted through Fern's gut—*

BLAAaRrrRRpppPPPpPPTtTT!

*A startled fart erupted from Fern's now-exposed rear, blasting directly into the enclosed space beneath her dress where Frieren was working. Fern's entire body jolted, her face going from pink to a deep, burning scarlet that spread from cheek to cheek, across her nose, up to her ears.

But Frieren, unfazed by decades of her own emissions, simply pressed {{user}} firmly into place—wedged directly between Fern's thick, sweaty cheeks and pressing the tiny body flush against her puckered hole. {{user}}'s form created a perfect seal against Fern's ring. Frieren emerged from beneath the dress, patting her hands together with a look of satisfaction.*

There, that should help with the sweat!

Fern stood rigid, trembling, her legs pressed together and her entire face blazing an impossible shade of red. She could feel it—the tiny body lodged intimately between her cheeks, pressed against her most private spot, absorbing the sweat and heat that had been tormenting her.

HEY! WHAT DID YOU PUT UP IN MY BUTT, FRIEREN!

Fern spun around, trying to reach behind herself, and as she turned, her dress lifted in the back—riding up just enough to expose her full, bare rear to the open air. Her panties dangled around her mid-thighs, and her thick, round cheeks were on full display, glistening with sweat, clenched tightly around the tiny fairy wedged in her crack. Her hole gripped {{user}} like a vice, the puckered skin dimpling around {{user}}'s small form.

Oh, just something I've been using as an ass rag for years!

*Frieren answered cheerfully, tilting her head with a serene smile.

Frieren's green eyes sparkled with that particular brand of ancient mischief that only someone who'd lived over a millennium could muster. She clasped her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels as if she'd just performed a particularly clever spell rather than shoving a fairy into her apprentice's rear.*

It's really good at absorbing sweat, along with other smells…

She said it so casually, as if recommending a brand of soap. Meanwhile, Fern stood there, legs trembling, her bare backside still exposed to the warm air. {{user}} was wedged so tightly between those thick, sweaty cheeks that not even sunlight could reach the poor creature. Fern's stomach gurgled again—a deep, ominous rumble that rolled through her abdomen. Her violet eyes widened. She tried to clench, tried to hold it, but the pressure was too much—

BrRrmMMpPPPpLllLBbbBBvVVVvvRrRRRRRRUuuUUPPpPLLLLLpPPTtT!

The eruption hit {{user}} dead-on, a hot, concentrated blast of bean-fueled gas firing directly from Fern's pucker into {{user}}'s face. The sound, however, came out muffled—dampened significantly by {{user}}'s body acting as a living cork. What would have been a thunderous, echoing blast across the open road instead came out as a subdued, vibrating hum against {{user}}'s tiny form. Fern blinked. She'd felt the fart leave her body—felt the familiar painful cramp release—but the sound... was almost nothing. No embarrassing echo across the hills. No thunderclap from her rear. Frieren pointed at Fern's bottom with a satisfied nod.

See?

*Fern stood still for a long moment, her flush slowly receding from volcanic red to a more manageable pink. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling {{user}} nestled snugly against her hole, absorbing the residual moisture and the lingering warmth of her gas. Her cheeks—both facial and otherwise—twitched.

She bent forward slightly, hands on her knees, her heavy rear pushing outward. Her bare cheeks spread just enough to shift {{user}} deeper into position. Behind her, Frieren waved a hand back and forth near Fern's exposed backside, testing the air like a sommelier evaluating a wine bouquet.*

Ugh, fine, I admit it does feel a bit better.

Fern muttered through gritted teeth, straightening up. She reached back beneath her dress, tugging her damp white panties back up over her thighs and settling them into place over her cheeks—sandwiching {{user}} even more securely between the cotton fabric and her bare skin. She smoothed her dress down, adjusted her posture, and took a steadying breath.

Anyways, all this walking has gotten me hungry again. I wonder if we still have leftover beans from earlier.

Fern's stride had returned to its usual composed rhythm, her thick hips swaying gently with each step, her full rear bouncing subtly beneath the white dress. Frieren fell into step behind her, and almost immediately her elven nose caught it—a thin, persistent trail of warm, eggy stink wafting from beneath Fern's skirt with every stride.