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               There Can Only Be One (Farts)               
                      -by StillFunk-                       
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               The Beauty and The Fart Chair               
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The Beauty and The Fart Chair
After three hours spent alone in confusion and fear, you had finally started to calm down just a bit.
The position you were tied up in was not really uncomfortable as much as it was just degrading and revealing.
Big ball gag in your mouth and legs spread wide apart, presenting your pussy to whoever would wander through the big steel door in front of you.
So far, that had been nopony else here. You had yet to find out who had captured you, but with you being bound like this in a cellar of all places, you had a creeping suspicion that once that stallion who had you trapped, whomever he was, would open that door, you would be subjected to some very unwanted sensuality.
Calling it a "creeping suspicion" was a formality. You had no doubt in your mind. You would be raped.
You tried your best not to think about it, but the dread was inevitable. (Little did you know at the time, that your captor had far more degrading plans with you than simply raping you.)
Finally, or rather, eventually, you hear hoofsteps approaching outside your dank, enclosed cell.
You were about to meet the pony who had abruptly ended your two lovely weeks in Ponyville, for reasons that were certainly not to your liking. You surely had encountered many stallions in awe of your beauty, but none of them had seemed creepy to you. At least not to the extent of doing something like this.
The clopping sounds surprisingly rhythmic, light, and feminine as it gets closer, but that doesn't ease your fear in the slightest.
When you simultaneously see and hear the metallic door open up, you can't hold back your tears and muffled wailing, neither can you stop your bladder as you make a tiny puddle over your own, dark-brown, curly tail.
You close your eyes in a strained expression before you even get to see your captor trot inside, but her voice alone makes her identity all too clear.
"I apologize for the wait, darling. It's been a very busy day. I'm surprised I even had the time to capture you."
You open your teary eyes and look up at Rarity as she stands above you, smiling at you, cruelly.
Her purple-ish mane is set behind her head in a bun and her subtle makeup manifests her feminine features perfectly.
You look at her like a scared, shivering question mark, and with a light chuckle she takes out the ball-gag, allowing you to put a voice to your frightened confusion.
You'd only met this mare a few times, but with your shared interests, you had visited her boutique on more than one occasion during the short while you'd spent here.
She had been friendly at first, kind and generous, but when she learned you had moved to Ponyville, and wasn't just visiting for a vacation. Her attitude had changed.
She'd started acted jealous and grumpy around you. Not that you had minded in the least. You loved being envied, and being envied by a fellow fashion queen was an accomplishment you valued highly.
Oh, how you had loved clopping passed her in the streets, neck, and tail raised high, radiating your upper-class attitude, making her visibly jealous, as you send her a sarcastic wink.
The more you think about, the more her capturing you makes sense.
"R-Rarity, please. I'm sorry I've been t-taunting you," you stutter. "I-I was just having fun... didn't mean to - to - to..."
"End up in my dungeon?" she said, finishing your sentence.
"Oh, darling, of course, you didn't, but you're here now," she continues with a cruel wink, making you shiver.
The big question still on your mind, creeps its way down towards your shivering lips.
"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" you ask, fear dripping down your face in the form of cold sweat.
"Torture," she says nonchalantly, inspecting her newly polished hoof, rather than even looking at you.
Your eyes widen and your soft, cream-colored skin turns whiter than her's. You start hyperventilating as tears fill your blank eyes.
"P-p-please! I'll do anything! J-just don't - d-don't hurt meheehee," you cry out with a pathetic whimper as you struggle in your heavy bindings to no avail.
Your captor merely giggles at your efforts to escape your highly compromised position.
Returning her attention back to you, she walks in over you.
Her body above yours, she lowers her head toward you, her cute, petite muzzle almost touching your's as she gets close.
"Hurt you? Oh, darling, do you think I'm a barbarian? No, I have other plans with you," she slowly says, her entire demeanor oozing with ripe sadism, causing you to shiver even more.
"Wh-what?" you ask blank-eyed, not really wanting an answer but also not wanting a nasty surprise.
She chuckles, caressing your cheek lightly.
"I'm simply looking to help you find your new lot in life. You clearly aren't a great fashionista so you need something else to do, something... you."
She rises up to full height, her cruel smile evolving into a grin.
You gulp.
"Luckily, I know just the thing for you. You're going to be a fart cushion, hon," she proclaims, poking her tongue at you.
Your eyes widen as you take in her unforeseen words.
"Wait... what?" you answer, honestly more baffled and confused than scared at the moment.
She sighs...
"Well, since you're my slave now, and since I intend on making you suffer, I thought Fartshoinista would be a fitting role for a loser like yourself, wouldn't you agree?"
You don't know what to say, you're not even sure you know what that entails.
"W-what does that mean?" you ask nervously.
Her smile widens as she sneds you a gaze that could almost be described as seductive.
"Why, I'll force you to sniff up my stinky farts, of course," she answers with a cruel purr.
You stare at her with big puppy-eyes, the realization of your new position slowly cementing itself in your mind.
"P-please don't fart on me... I p-promise, I've learned my lesson, I'll never try to compete with you again," you stammer, trying to get out of this horrible prison any way you can.
"Of course you won't compete with me," she giggles. "I'm a fashion queen, you're just a pathetic fart snorter."
You start struggling again, and as you do, your curvy, white-furred captor slowly turns around above you.
"Help, I'm being abused!" you yell out in desperation as Rarity finishes positioning her rear above your face.
"Be quiet, stink slut!" she answers slapping your hard across the cheek with her tail, causing you to quit your desperate crying.
Lips shivering, you look at the two soft orbs of perfectly kept flesh that makes up Rarities cute, round plot.
"You're going to sniff my asshole, now, and you will smell it eagerly, or there will be punishment. And that goes double when I start farting."
Rarity's voice was rich with dominance and so was her body language as she lifted her tail far into the air and separated her fleshy cheeks with magic, revealing her assets.
You stare in absolute horror and disgust at her tight, glistening pussy and her white-pinkish asshole, both holes tainted lightly by visible mare-grime. Her cunt having a yellow-ish miscoloring across the central line, and her rear just a hint of...
...You gulp...
... Brown.
"I do apologize for the uncleanliness. I've been so busy, I haven't had time for a shower all weak," she taunts as she starts lowering her thick plot onto your awaiting face.
Instinctively, you turn your head to the side in an effort to avoid being humiliated by having a smelly plot planted in your face.
This, in turn, angers your sadistic captor.
"Hey! You're not supposed to do that! Get you little loser muzzle on my asshole where it belongs, bitch! You deserve to be a musk-slut for a real beauty queen, you little poser!"
You don't comply, disgusted to your very core by having her nasty plot this close to you. It didn't matter that you weren't facing it, that backside was nasty.
"Get in there, I said!" she commands sternly trying to use her soft thighs to adjust your muzzle to face her stink.
"Noo!" You yell, quickly looking up to avoid her plot and thighs, making her sit on your throat instead.
"Fine! Be that way, you little runt!" Rarity snares as she gets up from above you.
You sigh in relief as you're freed from the stinky plot, but your relief is not to last for long as she returns, angrily trotting towards you, huffing in dismay.
"Disobedient cunt! If you don't start obeying me, I'm going to make you regret ever being born!"
You look at her instinctively, and as you see what she's brought your eyes widen in fear.
Cold sweat runs down your cream-colored fur once more, as you look at the pear-shaped piece of metal she's hovering towards your urine-soaked vagina with her ethereal magic.
You scream in terror as she forces the medieval torture device inside your poor vagina, with unrelenting force, stuffing you harder than any cock you'd ever had.
"Noo, please! Don't!" you cry as you wiggle in your bindings to escape this horrible fate.
Seeing you this frightened calms her greatly, her angry look turning to a cruel smile.
"Oh, this is merely encouragement, darling. I'm not gonna use it if you just smell my farts like a good stink-slut," she winks while poking her tongue at you.
Magic lights up the crank of the handle of her torture device, as she squints her eyes at you, her smile getting thinner.
"But if you don't smell my farts, I'm gonna split your pussy wide open... You have been warned."
With those words of discouragement, you once again find yourself looking up at her plump, unclean plot, her tail swaying gently back and forth over your head.
Your eyes shimmering with tears, you're forced to accept your fate, as she lowers her thick plot down on your muzzle.
You stare at her wrinkled anus as it closes in.
Soon, her soft, yet firm cheeks embrace the sides of your muzzle, and with your snout captured by ass you no longer have anywhere to turn your head.
You can't escape her nasty butt.
You cry and moan as she sits down on you, planting her musky asshole on top of your muzzle.
You're trapped face to ass, and the feeling of her moist pucker on your muzzle is nauseating.
You try to take a small breath through your mouth to avoid sniffing ass, but you hear Rarity clear the throat aggressively.
"Do fart sniffers breathe with their mouths?" she asks coldly, putting a hoof on the torture device in your cunt.
Crying pathetically, you close your mouth, and then your eyes, readying yourself for the upcoming nastiness.
Your heartbeat is racing you. You gulp.
Then, you start breathing through your nose, in turn smelling her nasty, rank, unwashed anus, filling your lungs with the powerful, earthy, musky, dirty scent of a sweaty mare-plot.
Your eyes water and you cough at the stark stench, but with her hooves still on the pear of anguish, you keep smelling it, disgusted at the degrading position you're in.
A delighted giggle breaks through your suffering, and Rarity starts grinding her nasty ass around in your face, smearing you with her musk.
"How do you like being my little ass, snorter, bitch? I hope you love it because you're never getting out of here! You'll be a stinky seat for a superior pony's rump for the rest of your short, miserable, smelly life!" she practically shouted, cruel enthusiasm tainting her always singing, classy voice.
She laughs and she smears your poor muzzle in cloying, moist ass grime, and you squeal in disgust as you're being used as a plot-towel, but with her cheeks firmly holding your face between them, there is no way to escape her nasty anus. And even if there was, the constant threat of having your cunt tortured looms over you like her ass.
Amidst her twerking against your sensitive snout, you hear the ominous sound of her stomach growling and her aggressive plot wiggling slows down on top of you.
You lie, chains tugged, smelling her ass, and dreading what's about to happen.
She giggles lightheartedly before lifting her rank ass up slightly to allow a little room between your face and her asshole.
"Ready?" she asks in a slow and almost seductive manner.
You cry and whimper, shaking your head as much as possible with her thighs holding you in place beneath her rear.
You can feel her muscles tense up as she strains herself to unleash her gas against your muzzle.
She repositions herself slightly to make sure you're going to choke on it when it emerges.
With a feminine, little grunt, her asshole starts to expand and poke outwards.
You shut your eyes closed and grit your teeth, knowing full well there is no way to escape this.
The very next moment, you feel it. A thick, warm shower of intestinal air blows against your face, bathing you in the rotten, eggy stench of ripe, unhealthy farts.
You hold your breath, but even then, you can feel the nastiness stinging in your nostrils, and it makes your eyes water with the overwhelming strength of her sulphuric eruption.
With a sound of relief, she sits down on your face once more, loving the coughing, gagging and spluttering you respond her rank stink-bomb with.
You have no choice but breathing by this point, and you start to suck up her nasty fart-cloud with your mouth, preferring the rotten taste to the eggy stench.
Not having any of this, though, Rarity leans forwards a bit and shoves her pussy into your mouth preventing you from breathing that way.
"Ah-ah... Sniff mommy's stinkers like a good little slut." she coos in absolute, sadistic delight, gently touching the device in your pussy to indicate that, it's either fart smelling or cunt ripping for you.
Being out of options you do as you're told...
You moan in nausea as you snort up the foul fart, your cheeks puffing up with the vomit-inducing sensation of both her slimy cunt dripping into your mouth and her unspeakably bad fart.
Before you're even done banishing the first fart to the realm of your slave lungs, another eggy stinker blasts against your face. This one even fouler than the previous.
You vomit a little in your mouth as you inhale your next fart-cloud. Not that it made much of a difference. You were still just as nauseated as before relieving your stomach acids and your puke didn't taste any worse than her thick, filthy horse-cunt anyways.
Your already miserable position becomes even more so as your owner lets out a moist sounding stink-bomb, changing the horrible scent you're currently breathing from rotten and eggy to meaty, cabbagy and slightly fecal.
You moan as her asshole bubbles with ripe fart juice, leaking the horrible moisture unto your poor, tortured snout.
Rarity moans in relief as she lets out some wet ones.
"Ahhhh, mmmm. These feel nasty. Just what a little fart slut deserves!"
You couldn't agree more... with the nasty part that is... because, in your opinion, not even mass-murderers deserve this. Her leaky farts are so horrible, you would rather have your pussy tortured at this point. But even though, you struggle and wiggle as much as you possibly could, there was no escaping her rear end.
Next thing you know, you're on your own again. Still chained up, and still smeared in plot grime and fart sauce.
You had passed out due to the abuse, and you're now awake and alone in Rarity's fart-torture chamber.
Once again, you lie alone, Waiting for your abuser to appear and force you to breathe in more of her foul emissions.
Your silent sobbing turns to a pained crying when the door opens up and Rarity trots inside.
She's wearing a short, light-blue dress with white velvet patterns, and she looks tense.
She paces towards you with nearly the speed of a gallop, dress and mane bouncing about as she runs.
Her face is strained with disgust and discomfort, her cheeks red as dawn.
She pants and moans is displeasure as she turns around and lifts her tail, using it to push her dress to the side.
"W-wait! Rarity!" you try to plead as she looms ever closer, shivering almost as much as yourself for some unknown reason.
"Be silent, fart slut! Argh! I'm not feeling well, and my farts are disgusting!!" She whines loudly in response, closing her eyes a tense grimace.
"It's not fair that a lady such as myself should deal with something so stinky! It's simply uncouth! So you better do your job and sniff hard to make sure I don't smell any!"
Your eyes widen in fear as she takes the last steps backward to align her thick rear with your muzzle.
You try to turn your head to the side but she keeps it upright with magic as she lowers her chubby plot onto your face, her soft pillowy cheeks being separated by the motion. Her dirty, musky asshole, already twitching to work on her farts, looks threatening as ever, ripe with grime, and brown across its wrinkles.
You aren't given more than a second to study it, however, before it's smothering your petit snout in sweat and harsh ass stench, already choking your poor senses.
Using her tail to guide it back, she lets her dress fall down around your face, enclosing your poor muzzle in a velvet gas-chamber where her farts would be somewhat trapped to ensure they kept smelling for longer periods of time, and simultaneously keep them away from herself more efficiently.
You shiver and tug in your bindings, both due to having her smelly rear pressing your head to the ground, but definitely also because of her words. If her farts are even worse this time around, you aren't sure you can obey her and smell them willingly. even with the threat of cunt torture still looming...
Above you, you hear her moan and you feel her tight round hole expand against the tip of your muzzle.
A moment later, you're showered in a cloud of thick, warm methane.
A bassy stink bomb bellows against your face and before you even smell it, your eyes are already watering... The eggy, rotten, meaty, overpowering scent of sickly farts sting you harder than you ever thought possible. You have no idea what brought her to get a stomach this upset, and you don't care. Her farts are DEADLY. Nothing less than that could properly describe them.
You cough and choke before her second repulsive emission makes you resort to screaming into her butt, sending ripples of sound into her ass fat.
Above you, she moans as she continues to let out her ripe, sickening stink-bombs, making the contaminated air around you ever deadlier.
The thickness of the death-cloud was building up and it's starting to leak out from beneath her dress.
"Eeheeheew!" Rarity practically cried as she caught a whiff of her own farts, frantically waving her hooves in front of her muzzle in a futile effort to keep the vile stench at bay.
You're trying valiantly to hold your breath, but with a rapid heartbeat and at the brink of panicking, smelling and tasting her stink is unavoidable.
"Sniff harder!" Your owner yells angrily, not wanting to inhale any more gas, herself.
You barely register her threats, your ears ringing from abuse. But even if you had heard her, you surely wouldn't have complied... Even with cunt torture still looming as punishment, all you can think of is her horrible, horrible farts, and how to best avoid them.
A moist, slobby stinker bubbles against your muzzle, saoking up your already dirty snout.
"Sneeheehiiif!" Rarity cries, frantically waving her hooves to blow the stench away.
You don't...
"You little runt! I'll show you what I do to disobedient slaves!"
Magic forces your mouth open as Rarity scooches her oozing plot forwards to align her leaking anus with your gaping maw.
She sits down hard on your teeth and makes your lips create an airtight seal around her asshole.
"Try to let my stink leak out now!"
The next moment, your tongue is being tortured by the rotten taste of fresh stink-bombs, and your cheeks are puffing up due to the thick cloud having nowhere to go.
You moan in torment, trying to move your tongue to a location where the fart taste isn't as prevalent, but after a second bassy ass-blast stuffs your throat with farts, there is nothing to do. You've been made a receptacle for her farts, truly. There is nowhere for her gas to go but deeper inside. You're being filled with stench.
You're a fart chair now... Nothing more. She had made sure of that.
"Ahh, much better... Can't smell a thing."