Scootaloo groaned, consciousness flooding back into her. She turned her head, evading
the bright beam of sunlight that rudely tore her from her peaceful slumber. Rubbing her eyes and
blinking several times, she found herself staring up at the pale, bland yellow ceiling of Apple
Bloom's room.
Running a hoof through her disheveled violet mane, she recalled her surroundings. It was
a Sunday morning at the Apple family household, and the youngest of the farmers, her friend
Apple Bloom, invited Sweetie Belle and herself for a sleepover. Sure enough, to her left and
right, her two friends slept peacefully in bed next to her. Such sleepovers were common for the
trio of ambitious friends.
However, the worst part about sleepovers, in Scootaloo's opinion, was waking up first.
More often than not did she have the misfortune of being the first to end her slumber. She would
have to wait an untold amount of time for her companions to rise, lest she has to awkwardly
wake each one up. It was a dilemma particularly challenging for the young filly, who oftentimes
woke up in the morning with as much energy as a pot of fresh coffee.
Groaning to herself, Scootaloo tossed onto her side, silently hoping she could once again
be brought to the realm of sleep, just to avoid this situation. The room was uncomfortably still.
Peace and the Cutie Mark Crusaders were two things that didn't coexist normally. Scootaloo
sighed, pulled up the bedsheets around her, and laid still.
The silence of the room, barring the gentle breathing of the three fillies, was interrupted
by a loud gurgle from Scootaloo's stomach. She could physically feel her innards shift; and
within those seconds of discomfort, a particularly loud grumble erupted through the slight pudge
of the filly's belly. Of course, she had known her stomach to growl when she missed lunch or
wasn't feeling well, but this was different. It was loud enough she feared it could wake her two
friends, and it felt rather low in her abdomen to be from her stomach itself...
Anypony would know what it was, though few fillies would ever admit it. It was like a
taboo; the colts in the back of the classroom would gladly do so even multiple times in the class,
but the fillies? Oh no, even the brash ones like Scootaloo herself typically were more mature. It
was such a prevalent concept that some young, naive colts actually believed that fillies just didn't
do it. But at this moment, in Apple Bloom's bed, next to two of her friends...
Scootaloo had to fart. Badly.
Scootaloo's eyes darted to her side, fixed on Apple Bloom. Slightly tense from
anticipation, she watched to make sure the farmer filly was fast asleep. Sure enough, she was
still out, her chest gently rising and falling with each breath. Scootaloo frowned. She had secretly
hoped the noise has woken her friend so she could finally get up. To her, the wait had felt like
hours, and long before this moment her usual eagerness to tackle the day had returned.
The pegasus watched her friend for a moment, deep in thought about what to do. Despite
her boredom she didn't want to be rude and wake her friends by shaking them. Maybe a gentle
whisper would do? Scootaloo quickly crossed this idea out after realizing that her friends could
sleep through a tornado. Perhaps she could get up herself, she figured. But then what would she
do?
Her stomach growled again, this time significantly closer to Scootaloo's rear end.
Scootaloo shuddered. The gas bubble felt massive inside of her bowels. There was no
way she could just let this one slip out somewhere and nopony would notice. She let out an
irritated sigh through her nostrils. Why now, out of all times, did she need to do this?
Suddenly, she remembered. Last night...
"You sure know how to make the best roasted cauliflower!" complemented
Scootaloo as Applejack spooned more of the cooked veggies onto her plate.
"Aww, thanks sugarcube. We get it all the way from our cousins in Newsaddle!"
Scootaloo barely made eye contact with Apple Bloom's older sister as she
listened. Her eyes were fixated on her new favorite dish, each firm, white morsel
dripping with oil and peppered with spices.
"You should tell them to send more!" Scootaloo barked, before chowing down on
the delicious meal, inciting laughter from the others seated around the table.
The Apple family sure was generous with their houseguests, but Scootaloo suddenly
regretted stuffing her face with the apparently gas-inducing veggie.
Scootaloo numbly watched Apple Bloom, silently hoping that by some miracle the filly
would wake up.
I should give her a whiff of what her family's cooking smells like after it's been eaten.
The filly's ears perked up as she sat up, surprised by this random thought. She must have
been getting too bored, she reasoned. She would never consider something like that!
Dashie would do it, she loves pranks.
Scootaloo screwed her eyes shut, trying to force out these mischievous thoughts as if they
were some foreign voice inside her head. Thought with every second her mind dwelled on the
idea, the more fun it seemed it would be...
How could she think like this! Flatulence was something so... boyish, and although
Scootaloo certainly wasn't the most girly young mare, she at least had SOME standards above
the rude and crude colts of her age.
Regardless of her inhibitions, something about the idea seemed so overpoweringly
thrilling. Like a rollercoaster or a scary movie. The idea of doing something so gross and seldom
thought of filled the filly with a sense of mischievous exhilaration. Besides, her friends probably
wouldn't remark on it for long, right? It was just one quick fart -- Scootaloo couldn't help but
giggle, even imagining the word excited her. There wasn't a more perfect way she could wake up
her friend!
Gingerly, she began to ease herself out from underneath the thick, heavy sheets. She was
giddy with anticipation; Apple Bloom was facing the ceiling, a perfect position for Scootaloo to
place her rump down on. She slowly lifted her rump up and moved it a bit closer to Apple
Bloom, cautiously stopping after each creak and squeak of the old springs in the mattress.
Despite the slowing cautiousness, however, Scootaloo quickly found her flanks aimed at Apple
Bloom's face. She blushed; how would her friend react if she were to wake up now, staring at her
fellow cutie mark crusader's blank, orange flank?
A third gurgle sounded off from her stomach. She could feel the gas pressing inside of
her, eager to escape; it was hot and there was a perceptible moistness, noticeable even from
within her. Scootaloo halted for a moment, feeling sorry for the nasal torture that Apple Bloom
was about to endure. What if she just found it gross and didn't forgive her? Was she really okay
with just planting her behind on her friend's face?
All these fears held little influence over her actions; she was fueled by a passion for
immature comedy, one that would make Rainbow Dash proud. And as such, despite the fact her
heart quivered in her ribcage, Scootaloo sat down on Apple Bloom.
Apple Bloom's muzzle was now nestled directly in between her friend's flanks, her
vision entirely obstructed my Scootaloo's round, orange rump. Though her nose was not pressed
directly against Scootaloo's rear, the gassy filly was certain that Apple Bloom's nostrils had a
front seat to the oncoming storm. Finally able to make a noise, Scootaloo giggled loudly.
Quickly, the sensation of furry weight on her face woke Apple Bloom up. She attempted
to roll her head aside, only to find the side of her face was met with (unbeknownst to her in her
sleepy daze) Scootaloo's butt. Confused, Apple Bloom's eyes fluttered open.
"Morning, Bloom!" cried Scootaloo, draping her tail over Apple Bloom's mane. Apple
Bloom took a deep breath, starting to become aware of her situation.
"S-scoot?" Apple Bloom replied, her voice muffled by Scootaloo's fleshy
posterior. "What are you doin'? Get offa me!"
Whether or not Apple Bloom was aware of where her nose was located, she was about to
find out, Scootaloo giggled to herself. She tensed her stomach muscles and lifted her tail
slightly. Soon, the gas she had been brewing in her innards all night was pressing up against her
sphincter. In a state of mindless excitement, Scootaloo let it rip.
A noisy, comical sounding Pffffrrrrrrrt exploded from Scootaloo, the noise moderate and
stable at first, before rising in pitch as it squeaked to a halt. The expulsion was especially
lengthy; the winged pony's rump trumpeted for seconds longer than the average fart, the gust of
flatus astonishing in volume.
Scootaloo's fart brushed against Apple Bloom's face, like a hot, wet cloud of dense air,
not unlike the climate of a warm jungle. It was so strong as it rushed out of Scootaloo that Apple
Bloom could feel the stream of air ruffle the short fur on her face. Unfortunately for the helpless
victim of Scootaloo's behind, the real torture came when Apple Bloom drew in a breath.
The two girls were no strangers to the aroma of a gassy outburst. Whether it was the
brassy wind from a cow on the Apple family farm or a pony who had eaten just a bit too much
for lunch, they had experienced the misfortune of catching a whiff of these miasmas. But neither
of the girls were prepared for Scootaloo's own brand.
It was exceptionally rich; it seemed as though even the tiniest waft of the gas contained
enough pure stench to clear a room, so it certainly didn't help that Scootaloo was like a walking
bag of gas after that meal. The smell hit hard. Eggy, rotten, and with the slight undertone of
burning rubber, it could make a princess turn her head and gag.
"Scootaloo! Get yer butt offa me! Now!" Apple Bloom yelped, trying desperately to
crane her neck away and escape the malodorous torrent her friend was showering her with.
Scootaloo, on the other hand, was enjoying herself more than she'd like to admit. The
sound of the Apple family filly gagging underneath her filled her with a strange sense of joy; as
gross as this was, it was fun! She had to admit, however, that she felt sympathetic as the smell
reached her own nostrils. Even she had to stifle a gag. She snorted and giggled, surprised at how
foul a stink her own innards could conjure.
After an impressive several seconds, the deadly blast died down, hissing and squeaking.
Scootaloo sighed, inhaling a lungful of her own gas. She felt a blissful sense of relief, the
uncomfortable pressure she was struggling with finally released.
"O-oh sweet Celestia, Scootaloo, get off!" Apple Bloom cried in between bouts of
gagging. She pressed her hooves into her friend's smelly rear and shoved with all her strength,
freeing her nose from the gas chamber before gulping in a breath of somewhat cleaner air.
Scootaloo rolled over on the bed, laughing hysterically.
Among all this commotion, Sweetie Belle had woken up. Rather than a gentle coaxing by
the sun or the blaring ring of an alarm clock as was custom most days for the schoolfilly, the
sulfurous stink that hung in the room tore Sweetie from her rest. Before even looking around to
find the source of it, she draped a hoof over her crinkled nose.
"Eww, girls, what's that smell?" she squeaked half-asleep, oblivious to the monstrous fart
Scootaloo just unleashed feet away from her.
"Did y'all just fart on mah face?!" the Southern-accented filly asked as she pressed her
pillow against her nose, fixing a disgusted glare at Scootaloo.
"Maybe..." Scootaloo cooed, taking a break from a fit of laughter to respond to Apple
Bloom's inquiry. Her eyes met with Apple Bloom's, and she suddenly stopped. "Quit glaring at
me! It was just a fart!"
"You farted?!" Sweetie cried, as if in disbelief. "It smells more like a skunk found its way
in here!"
"Yeah, Scoots!" Apple Bloom continued. "What if Applejack or somepony trots in
here?!"
Scootaloo paused for a moment, before her face once again grew into an immature
smile. "Then I'd blame it on you!" she snorted.
"You wouldn't dare! I should hogtie you and leave you out with the pigs for a few hours,
see how you like the smell!" Apple Bloom threatened.
"Would not! You're too chicken!" Scootaloo rebutted, sticking her tongue out.
"Would too! You're the chicken!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
The childish argument escalated into a wrestling tournament, Apple Bloom lunging at
Scootaloo. The once-tidy bed was turned into a mess of wriggling bed sheets that left Sweetie
Belle hanging on to the edge of the mattress. "Girls! Stop!" she cried.
Surprisingly, the lump ceased moving. Sighing with relief, Sweetie Belle threw the
covers off of the pair. Her face sunk in response to what she saw.
Apple Bloom, her once uniform hair a tangle of red, had her butt planted firmly on
Scootaloo's face, who shot a begging glance at Sweetie from her position.
"Hey Sweetie Belle," Apple Bloom spoke, sticking her hoof out at the unicorn filly, "pull
mah hoof."
