Rent Free Slob

Of course, she still farted in her sleep. Or, maybe, Carol was just pretending to be asleep to get away with even more from him, muffling her face into the pillows while she blasted out farts.

Pppppppfffffpppppfffffttttpppptttt!

He didn't have a single pair of good sheets anymore and Big hid his head under his own pillows -- though they were ones that Carol was already through with. With big holes ripped even in their pillowcases, from the ripping might of her farts, they were hardly even usable anymore. As with everything, the whole apartment, from top to bottom, every sheet and every object, reeked of her.

Big considered buying new sheets...but what was the point? He still had his bedroom, though it was little solace anymore after Carol had ripped his door off its hinges. He didn't want to believe that that had been with the belching, crude, grumbling force of her farts but, well...he had witnessed just how she could shake down a room with them first-hand. Was there anything that her body was not capable of?

No... No. He didn't want to be kicked out and he had a routine, kind of, to dull the scent of her on him when he went out to work, enough that people could mostly tolerate being around him. It involved a lot of cover-up body spray, so much so that he had a toxic cloud of another kind of gas following him around his work, though that was a small price to pay to be able to still work. In the apartment, he hammered up soundproofing, heavier curtains and thicker rugs, seeking to dull the noise of Carol, both her music and her body, as much as possible.

Sometimes, when he had been so keen to live with her and see a little more about who Carol was, Big could go too far. But that was just the way that he was, trying to make things easy for others, even as she climbed up on the stepladder that he had been using to put up insulation in the hallway, farting in his face.

"Ugh!"

He pulled away, the stepladder rocking on two legs -- though he still cared enough about her, even then, to grab it, despite how his face was screwed up in disgust. He didn't even know just how Carol could be as gross as she was; no attraction towards her lingered at all. But she had a presence there that could not be denied, bending over at the waist to shake her arse and twerk again, her fat, fleshy behind jiggling as she let rip fart after fart.

He trembled, backing away a little as the walls shook. Sometimes, Big didn't know if he was imagining that the apartment was shaking, but the noise complaints and threats from the other neighbours, which were rising in their intensity, had to mean something, he was sure. He couldn't be imagining it as she kept farting right at him, leaving him to duck and try to dodge the cloud of gas heading rapidly his way. It was as if she could even control that...but, yes, that was definitely his mind going rather a bit too far, yes.

But he could only try to live through it, step by step and day by day. He was stuck with her, ripped holes in his sheets and even the heavier, thicker, sound-dampening curtains not lasting very long, torn through with holes, after a while. He just had to find a way to live with her, yes, to find a way, any way at all, to make the best out of a bad situation.

If he could do that, well...he would be able to do a lot more, he was sure.

He could live his life again.

Even if he had to unclog the toilet every day, multiple times a day. Even if she hurled insults at him, acting like he was someone there to serve her needs. Even if she poked fun at him, mocking his life, his job, that he couldn't even keep the apartment neat and tidy (due to her, of course). Even if she forced him to buy more and more sheets, sometimes even stealing his bath towels and bathrobes too, just to fart holes in them, the fabric flapping away from her body while it could not help but tear through from the passage of wind from her arse alone.

It was hell. But it would never have been anything other than that, no, not as she took over his bedroom too, his final sanctuary. He woke first to her farting in his face, waking him up with peals of laughter.

"Get up, your shitter's clogged!" She howled, though her lips were twisted into a cruel smirk. "Or are you going to let it spill out onto the floor again? Dirty fool!"

He wasn't dirty, no, not by a long shot. Big had always taken pride in his appearance but, even as Carol trashed his belongings, he tried to always make sure that he was as well put together and as presentable as possible. Even if he had to buy cheaper products than before, for she always found out where he hid them, digging them out just to smash them or pour the hair stuff straight down the drain, sometimes even mixing it in with the clogged toilet and dirty water.

She always found a new way to torture him, to the point that she found a way to drive him all the way down one night. Big howled, waking to a tremendous, earthquake-like fart that was worse than every one that had gone before, the bedroom rocking -- but the sheets were over his head! Closing him in with the noxious cloud of gas driving into his lungs, he was forced to hack and gag, trapped in there, whimpering, hunkering down, kicking and fighting, his body not knowing at all what it needed to do to get out of the situation at hand.

No... There was nothing he could do as she farted more and more, her laughter cruelly echoing and bouncing off the walls: just another thing to wall him in on all sides. There was no escape from her, not as she "Dutch ovened" him, forcing him to inhale, holding the sheets down until Big didn't even see any point in fighting back at all.

No... He just had to endure. For there would never again be anything worthwhile in his life, not when Carol and her farts were there.

So, he was kicked out of his room into the smaller guest room, the wallpaper peeling, the curtains hanging off the rail, ripped and torn. The reek of the bathroom somehow got into the room too and he practically slept with one eye open, always trying to keep an eye out for her. He didn't want her to sneak up on him and trap him under the sheets, though it was not as if the sheets themselves did anything at all to muffle the blast of her farts.

There was no end to it. And he didn't think that there would be anything to change either, not as he just about managed to stop the noise complaints from going too far, her rap music blasting, twerking and dancing all over his living room, farting along, though not in time with the music.

"Oh, yeahhhhhhh!" She sang, though her voice was off-key and out of tune. "This is the stuff!"

She twerked as if to back up on him but Big got out of the way, even as another wave of gas flooded from her, seeping into the corners of the living room as if it was dragging its way up the walls. The door, of course, to the guest room was broken too and he did not doubt that her gas would find its way in there, or that he would, once again, wake up to her farting in his mouth, covering his face and head with her fat buttocks, but he had given up on finding a solution.

He tried to spend as much time out of the apartment as possible but, well, he didn't have the money for that either. Not as he was forced to replace bedsheets and curtains and the insulation and more still.

Big just had to endure, the smell clinging to him, the toilet always clogged, harsh words and insults hurled his way, day after day, even while he tried to sleep with headphones on to dull the noise.

There was nothing he could do. Not as Carol, the ultimate Karen and rent free slob, had taken over every last little bit of his life, his home and his sanctuary.

If only he had never let her in...