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When a flatulent white dragon Leston heads into Furtopia, chaos ensues when he begins to prank the residents in smelly, gassy ways.
In a village only a few miles away from Furtopia, there was a small band of non-anthro dragons that rested peacefully to prepare themselves for a long journey. Out of this little horde of dragons was a pearly white one with green eyes named Leston. Leston was in his prime, measuring almost three school buses from snout to tail, and he had wings that could wrap around a light pole and cover it completely. He had dark gray horns on the sides of his head where ears would be on a normal creature, plus a couple other horns bulging out of his scalp diagonally. There were also spikes running down his spine that all eventually led over to the tail. All in all, he looked like every other western dragon. Leston was known as the jester of his gang, because he always loved to play practically jokes on his friends and random townsfolk. However, it wasn’t knock-knock or water balloon jokes. The jokes Leston played always dealt with olfaction, and being the type of prankster that he is, these jokes weren’t sweet-smelling. And, because Leston’s had a large, flabby, and more importantly, smelly posterior, he usually played pranks involving his butt. More specifically, breaking wind. There was nothing Leston loved doing more than chowing down on beans and walking into a large field of people and purposely passing gas in an obnoxious manner. Leston also loved to sit on people and inevitably making them sniff his fat ass, shortly before raising his tail and letting loose. And when he was really gassy, he’d wrap his “victims” around in his tail and use his tailbone strength to drag them towards his anus, blowing hot stinky gas their way. Occasionally, Leston would perform pranks with his dung, but that was only when he farted too hard and squirted out poop, sharting on his pranking victims. But on normal days, he just loved to fart.
Leston opened up his eyes, blinking a couple of times before getting off the ground and opening his mouth, yawning loudly and stretching with his tail raised. The giant white dragon sighed before he stood back up on his legs and shook his head. Leston smacked his lips a few times before he rustled through a small hole in the ground and took out a large, yellow notepad with a pen attached to it. It was his special pranking list, and he carried it around with him wherever he went to. First, Leston would fly over cities, observe its inhabitants and regulations, sometimes even tour the city to find high-valuable targets. Then he’d decide whether or not the city was worthy of becoming pranked before he left. The list already had several names up there: Miami, Long Beach, London, South Park, Yellowstone, Milwaukee, and many, many others. And half of these cities had been checked off of his list. However, places like Viletopia and Coproville were already stinky enough to make his butt smell like sugar cookies. He could fly over the city and start raining diarrhea and all the townsfolk would merely praise him for the downpour. There was no way he could prank those cities; he’d only make the people or furries inside happy. Anyway, Leston looked at his notepad and crossed out the previous name on the list, chuckling to himself. The last city he was in had its pools polluted by Leston’s foul posterior and scat. No one would be able to swim in those pools for weeks, if not months. But no one was hurt or morally shattered. It’s not like he was harming anybody with his pranks. He might’ve gone overboard and stunk up a human being by burying him underneath several pounds of scat, but no one perished or was sent to the hospital. …Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true either; a furry had to get his fur shaved off and was dipped inside a chemical bath to get all the scat off of his body, but you get the general idea.
“Wow…I’m running through these cities left and right. Pretty soon the whole world will be engulfed in a foul cloud of my malodorous butt expulsions. Now what city is next on my list?”
Leston studied the notepad and smiled widely at his next target: Furtopia. He heard much about this city, all the events that occurred and adventures some of the furries had, most notably a brown wolf named JT and his little inner-circle of friends. Sure, a portion of Furtopia didn’t mind flatulence, but another portion found fart jokes repugnant and vulgar. It was a good enough reason to go into town and stink it up a bit.
“All I need now is some fuel.”
Leston tip-toed past the other sleeping dragons until he arrived to his little stash of food. Leston opened up a crate and smiled deviously at what was inside: cans of beans, steak, cheeseburgers, Italian sausages, spicy sausages, eggs, cheese, even cabbage and purple eggplant. Leston examined his stash of food and dunked his head inside, chowing down on all the flatulence inducing foods. First he tore open several cans of beans and wolfed them all down without even chewing, to induce more gas. Then he grabbed eight eggplants with both hands and stuffed them all inside his maw, chewing on them noisily before swallowing so hard a lump was visible in his throat. Afterwards, he couldn’t help but twirl his tongue around several heads of cabbages and suck them inside his mouth, doing the same maneuver with four dozen eggs. He guffawed and licked his scaley lips.
“Oh man! I’m gonna be farting till my butt starts to deflate!!”
And with that, he dipped his head back down into the stash of gassy food, lapping up all the food his giant stomach would hold.
Sometime later, Leston finished eating and was flying towards Furtopia. His stomach had reached its ultimate capacity and it was gurgling and shaking, indicating the foul gas that was brewing inside. He already felt some gas heading towards his anus and knew the gas was on the verge of blasting out. Leston exhaled and stop flying, quickly descending to the road and holding his stomach as he stood on his hind legs.
“I think I ate too fast. I better sit down and relax my bowels.”
Leston sat down in the middle of the street with a seismic boom, sighing heavily and relaxing with his eyes shut.
“YUCK!! What happened to the lights? And what stinks?!” shouted a furry.
Ironically, he just so happened to sit down over an open manhole cover that was full of construction workers. One of them tried to get out of the sewers, but ran into Leston’s foul hide instead. Seeing as how the workers must’ve been trapped inside the sewers for hours Leston took this as a compliment, indicating his ass stank so much even someone residing in the sewers hated the smell. Without faltering or hesitating, Leston leaned over and farted into the manhole. He heard a splash in the distance and knew that the worker on the ladder must’ve fallen back down into the slimy water. Leston wasn’t sure what his gas smelled like, but for some reason, the thick stench of sewage waste was rampant. Some of the furries in the middle of the street could smell something funky and were busy walking away from the feral dragon. Leston simply sighed again, this time with fists made and his butt pressed deep into the hole. The white dragon grunted and let out a deep fart, before letting out a giant, sputtering one that sounded like a motorboat attempting to start its engine. This time, everyone on the block groaned and began to run away from him. Hell, Leston himself had to wave a hand in front of his nose and plug it with a claw.
“WHEW!! Was that me or the sewer?!”
Leston finally got off the manhole and looked around for another valuable target. There was a hotel residing next to him, a small shop that was selling flowers, and a few other minor amenities. There was a line of furries waiting at the bus stop and another furry selling brochures out of a kiosk, but all of them retreated upon smelling the sewage waste, or in this case, Leston’s noisome gas. And that’s when he saw it: a national park full of furries relaxing or playing some leisurely activity. Leston snickered and began to walk towards the park with his rumbling tummy. The dragon just happened to spot a majestic water fountain spewing crystal clear water and, since he was thirsty, maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Leston started strolling into the park in a casual fashion, not holding his stomach or stifling laughter or smiling slyly, just walking. Eventually he entered the park. None of the furries were appalled or threatened by Leston’s presence, but it wasn’t common for a dragon of this size to randomly take a walk in the park. Nevertheless, they ignored him and let him do whatever it was he was going to do. A talent agent suddenly walked past Leston while chattering into his cellular device when Leston let out a giant fart. It wasn’t exactly loud, but rather abrupt and smelly. The talent agent was taken by surprise by Leston’s butt expulsion, and immediately stopped walking, his pupils dilated. He didn’t even have time to finish taking a whiff of the odor before he passed out. Funny thing about it was Leston didn’t even care. He didn’t look back or snicker under his breath or point at the talent agent and laugh or even wave a hand around his posterior. He just kept walking, acting like he didn’t fart at all. But it was all part of his plan.
“Hey, does anyone smell that?”
Leston walked past a small group of raccoons and farted again, this time silently. As always, his SBDs smelled just as bad as his cloacae, with a small mixture of burning rubber. The raccoons quickly plugged their noses and high-tailed it out of the park. Still, Leston didn’t change his attitude. He wasn’t doing this intentionally either; each gas that came out of his rectum was purely his own body’s doings. The only thing was that Leston had no intention of holding his farts back in and releasing them into a contained, un-crowded area. The white dragon got closer to the water fountain and heard his stomach burble. It didn’t take long before more repugnant flatulence soared out of his anus, this time as loud as the first. The smell wasn’t stronger, but it was thick and made the atmosphere mysterious humid. It smelled like a boar who just got through eating a smorgasbord of legumes. Better yet, it smelled like a boar who just got done rolling around in a dirty dragon’s behind. Not Leston’s though; despite how bad it smelled, Leston’s own ass was clean and only had small unnoticeable smudges of dung on it. Upon smelling the noxious gas, a couple of avians who were on a tree branch shielded their beaks with their large, feathery wings, muttering distasteful comments before flying away from the park. Leston really loved this idea because he seemed to be acting more like an animal. And, like many animals, they defecate and break wind whenever they want to, in public or otherwise. Leston could simply walk over to every furry in this park and fart in their faces and force them to sniff, but then they’d show strong discontent for him in the process and may even try to run him out of town. However, by merely walking around and farting unintentionally, no one said anything or bothered him. Furries and humans knew that animals had to relieve themselves and didn’t know how to cover up their waste expulsions. There wasn’t anything they could really do except hope the animal would get rid off all the gas quickly. You can’t yell at an animal to stop farting, but you can yell at an animal to stop pranking you by farting and expect a result. Everyone in the park would just have to overcome the odor or get out of the area.
“Who let the stinky dragon into the park?!!?” shouted a bear.
Leston got closer to the fountain and farted so hard it felt like one of the spikes on his tail blew right off. Luckily it didn’t, but that didn’t mean it smelled pleasant. The bear who was wondering how Leston got into the park retched before pulling his shirt over his nose and escaping the park. In fact, all sorts of furries were running out of the park to escape; none of them were equipped with gasmasks unfortunately. With the park nearly cleared out, Leston dipped his head into the fountain and started lapping up the cool water with his tongue, still letting out some foul flatulence with no avail at stopping the butt blasts. After Leston quenched his thirst and looked around the park, realizing no one was there, he opened his mouth and started hooting with laughter, leaning against the fountain and pounding his fist on it. The white dragon fell to his back and started farting and chuckling like a hyena who finished huffing a large container of nitrous oxide. But Leston quickly controlled his howling and stood back up, shaking his head and putting his game face back on. This was only his number two prank on his night of pungent debauchery.
“Now what could be better than pranking a small gang of hoodlums?” said Leston to himself.
The dragon was perched onto the edge of a bridge, looking into a dried-out steam that was underneath the bridge. The walls and ground were made of concrete and the whole area made it easy for some teenagers to turn the park into a skate park, which is what happened. Right now, the dragon was observing three furries in hoodies spray-painting the wall with their gang tags. Leston wasn’t sure who the gang was, but they were notorious in the city of Furtopia, mostly known for tagging and robbing from convenience stores. The gang members (the low level ones anyway) wore dark red hoodies and pants, and on the back of the hoody was a green symbol, a ring with weird, funky squiggles and zigzags in the center of it. But none of this was important to Leston. What was important was that he was going to fart them into submission. The white dragon slowly fluttered down to the taggers and approached them from behind. However, instead of introducing himself, he merely smiled deviously and turned around, his tail raised. He then walked backwards to the hoodlums until one of them stopped tagging and sniffed the air, plugging his nose.
“Dude, you randomly get the strong stench of ass in your nose?” asked one of them.
“Eh, must be the paint cans. It does have a warning label saying the smell could be noxious.”
“If you say—URK!!”
The hoodlums were suddenly smushed in-between Leston’s butthole and the wall they were painting with the cans. Both of them started protesting in muffled shouts, but Leston couldn’t make out what they were saying, nor did he care what they were saying. He wasn’t pressing hard, which meant their bones weren’t getting crushed and if they could open their mouths to swear out loud, they certainly could breathe through them. The hoodlum next to his friends was looking at the dragon who just pinned his buddies to the wall, using nothing but the power of his pungent ass. With that, Leston blew out a giant fart on the two, seasoning the fresh air with rambunctious, bean-smelling gas. Leston snickered evilly with a grin on his face and the two hoodlums began to scream and hit the wall with their fists, trying to escape the flabby, smelly death chamber. But it was all useless. The remaining hoodlum abandoned his friends and ran away screaming, not wanting to be surrounded by the horrific odor. Leston raised his tail and let out another rich fart that could’ve disintegrated a leaf from the heat. The dragon later wiggled his butt and buried the stench deeper into the gang members so the stench would stay in their clothing forever.
“MMPH!! MM-MHPH!!”
“What, you guys want some more?”
“MHPH!!!”
“Okay then, you asked for it!”
Leston leaned to the side with his tail and leg raised and farted so loudly the fence that was on the bridge began to rattle and a car began to screech out in the road. Leston heard a crash and assumed that the wall he farted on was connected to some fault, judging by the fact he could feel the earth beneath him shaking. Leston couldn’t even tell what air smelled like anymore; this fart smelled that bad. All he could smell now was eggs, beans, cheese…and burritos. Stale, beefy burritos. And maybe a hint of nachos. Although all these foods sound scrumptious and mouth-watering, smelling them mixed with dragon ass is not something that could be categorized as appetizing or pleasing to the olfaction sense. In fact, it was so unappetizing, that the hoodlums passed out within a couple of seconds. Leston took a few steps forward and heard the gang members fall to the ground. He turned around and chuckled before looking down the area and noticing the remaining gang member was busy trying to escape the smell. Leston flapped his wings and got into the air, quickly flying over to the final vagrant. Once he was above the fleeing furry, he came crashing to the ground from behind. The furry turned around and yelped for a brief second before he was impaled by the scaley behind. He went down and started tumbling to the ground until he stopped rolling around. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that Leston was sitting directly on his body, his butt inches away from his nose.
“WHAT THE HELL!!?! Get offa me you lizard with wings!”
“I don’t think so.”
Leston scooted backwards a bit so his cloacae were literally right above his nose. Any closer and the furry would smell the inside of his anus, not that he couldn’t already get a strong whiff of it.
“Get off me right now; your ass stinks!”
“If you think that smells bad, just wait until my gas starts acting up!”
“…Gas?”
Leston lifted his tailhole and blew a hot sensation of air into the hoodlum’s nose, stinking his air with the burst of flatulence, which lasted for a couple of seconds. The furry coughed violently for a couple of seconds before another horrible smell entered his nostrils, smelling three times worse than before. This fart wasn’t louder than the previous one, but it lasted longer and was redolent of dragon dung and chili. The white dragon couldn’t help but laugh raucously and fan the stink right into the furry’s nose.
“GET YOUR FAT ASS OFF OF ME YOU STINKY SON OF A BIT—”
Leston scooted backwards so much the furry’s whole head was buried under his ass.
“That’s enough talking for now.”
Like always, he groaned again and patted his rumbling belly before the predictable action happened, and the furry was greeted with a monstrous odor of dragon ass releasing foul wind from his behind. The expulsion was wetter than the last two and Leston was beginning to wonder if he crapped out a few lumps of excrement, but he didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to relieve himself of his abdomen bubbles so he wouldn’t have to deal with it later. And besides, he was putting it to good use. Nothing better than fighting vice with the power of flatulence right? The hoodlum desperately tried to scurry from underneath the dragon, but he was too heavy to slide out from underneath and the smell of his derogatory ass wasn’t making him stronger. All he could do was stare at the plump anus with no protection from the smell as more gas crept into his system. And like his friends, it didn’t take long for the furry to pass out. Leston finished off his wet fart with a loud poot before rising from the surface, his own nose plugged.
“I hope these guys learned their lesson! I suppose they should be lucky; if I swallowed a bottle of laxatives this situation could’ve ended a helluva lot worse for them!”
Leston continued his patrol of stinkiness and found a local bar on the outer rim of Furtopia, surprisingly, a hideout for small-time gang members such as the hoodlums he encountered a couple of hours ago. The white dragon could tell that many of the furries inside were most likely playing pool, drinking beer, playing cards or were fighting with each other. All of the cars with the same gang symbol were parked outside the bar and haven’t been turned on for a while. Leston quietly picked up one of the cars with ease and set it down in front of the front door, blocking anyone from entering or exiting the bar. He then grabbed an SUV and placed that down at the back entrance, blocking that path too.
“Hey!! Which one of you parked their car in front of the door?!” asked a bar patron.
Leston climbed to the top of the building and firmly planted his rear over the air vent leading to the inside. The dragon didn’t even give a warning of advisement to find safe haven or even a sappy comment to foreshadow the gang members’ doom. He just fluttered his wings before letting loose and cutting so much cheese the inside of the bar was becoming smoky. Everyone in the bar started to retch violently and get on all fours before passing out or coughing violently. Some of the furries were busy banging on the doors, trying to escape, while others simply hid in the bathrooms riddled with filth, feeling that the stench in there was of no comparison to the stench that was quickly filling inside the bar. About 15 seconds had gone by and the white dragon was still passing gas. Leston was beginning to regret his decision of not eating anything to accelerate a bowel movement; this would be a perfect time to fill the bar with giant turds that would never wash off the pool table. The gang members just had to be lucky that the bar wasn’t filled with furries smoking cigarettes or cigars, or a fire could start.
“You guys alright down there? I hope none of you hate the smell of chili dogs and Mexican food!” laughed Leston.
As he was farting, Leston began to make fists and his long fart abruptly became deeper and more sputtered. Someone might’ve mistaken the sound coming from an elephant seal, and probably would’ve mistaken the smell coming out of a walrus’s posterior. More gang members lost consciousness and a light green haze was sifting around in the bar. With no other option, a bar patron broke open a window and jumped outside, ignoring any glass shavings that got into his arm. He panted as he sprinted his way over to his car, but Leston heard him running across the ground. He couldn’t let him get away, not with the farting streak he was on. So naturally, he hopped off the building and went over to the car. The furry was desperately trying to escape, having his keys already inside the ignition and his windows down so he could hop inside like an impersonation of The Dukes of Hazard. As soon as he started the car and the ignition came on, he gunned the car forward. Unfortunately, as he began to drive, a white apparition appeared in front of him and the sand began to blow towards his windshield. A loud rush of wind was heard which combined with the screeching of the tires in the sand. It wasn’t until the smell hit him that the hoodlum realized the apparition wasn’t ghostly at all. In fact, it was Leston, who had his shiny rear in front of the car with his tail raised. The western dragon was farting so hard that the car couldn’t go any faster and was being blown back by the power of it. Leston was grunting with his eyes shut and his ass jiggling immensely. His ass was literally beginning to hurt at this point, but he couldn’t let the gang member get away. And if the gang member had covered his snout with his hoody, he would’ve. But due to the smell, it didn’t take long for the furry to pass out and slouch over in his car seat, his forehead banging on the horn. Leston lowered his tail and sighed with relief, collapsing to the ground and panting with his tongue out.
“I think…that’s enough pranking for one day.”
Leston was standing triumphantly on a hill overlooking Furtopia, ready to leave the city and return back to his home. But, before he did, he had one last trick in store. As the dragon flapped his wings and began to fly through the air, he flew right over the center of the city, his stomach bubbling loudly. Leston hovered in the same area for a few seconds before aiming his butt down and letting out a short, but supersonic fart into the city. It didn’t take long for the gas to shower the furries on the street and for all of them to be overwhelmed by the odor.
Upon hearing all the distasteful comments about the smell, Leston smiled widely and flew away from the city, laughing to himself at a job well done.
In a village only a few miles away from Furtopia, there was a small band of non-anthro dragons that rested peacefully to prepare themselves for a long journey. Out of this little horde of dragons was a pearly white one with green eyes named Leston. Leston was in his prime, measuring almost three school buses from snout to tail, and he had wings that could wrap around a light pole and cover it completely. He had dark gray horns on the sides of his head where ears would be on a normal creature, plus a couple other horns bulging out of his scalp diagonally. There were also spikes running down his spine that all eventually led over to the tail. All in all, he looked like every other western dragon. Leston was known as the jester of his gang, because he always loved to play practically jokes on his friends and random townsfolk. However, it wasn’t knock-knock or water balloon jokes. The jokes Leston played always dealt with olfaction, and being the type of prankster that he is, these jokes weren’t sweet-smelling. And, because Leston’s had a large, flabby, and more importantly, smelly posterior, he usually played pranks involving his butt. More specifically, breaking wind. There was nothing Leston loved doing more than chowing down on beans and walking into a large field of people and purposely passing gas in an obnoxious manner. Leston also loved to sit on people and inevitably making them sniff his fat ass, shortly before raising his tail and letting loose. And when he was really gassy, he’d wrap his “victims” around in his tail and use his tailbone strength to drag them towards his anus, blowing hot stinky gas their way. Occasionally, Leston would perform pranks with his dung, but that was only when he farted too hard and squirted out poop, sharting on his pranking victims. But on normal days, he just loved to fart.
Leston opened up his eyes, blinking a couple of times before getting off the ground and opening his mouth, yawning loudly and stretching with his tail raised. The giant white dragon sighed before he stood back up on his legs and shook his head. Leston smacked his lips a few times before he rustled through a small hole in the ground and took out a large, yellow notepad with a pen attached to it. It was his special pranking list, and he carried it around with him wherever he went to. First, Leston would fly over cities, observe its inhabitants and regulations, sometimes even tour the city to find high-valuable targets. Then he’d decide whether or not the city was worthy of becoming pranked before he left. The list already had several names up there: Miami, Long Beach, London, South Park, Yellowstone, Milwaukee, and many, many others. And half of these cities had been checked off of his list. However, places like Viletopia and Coproville were already stinky enough to make his butt smell like sugar cookies. He could fly over the city and start raining diarrhea and all the townsfolk would merely praise him for the downpour. There was no way he could prank those cities; he’d only make the people or furries inside happy. Anyway, Leston looked at his notepad and crossed out the previous name on the list, chuckling to himself. The last city he was in had its pools polluted by Leston’s foul posterior and scat. No one would be able to swim in those pools for weeks, if not months. But no one was hurt or morally shattered. It’s not like he was harming anybody with his pranks. He might’ve gone overboard and stunk up a human being by burying him underneath several pounds of scat, but no one perished or was sent to the hospital. …Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely true either; a furry had to get his fur shaved off and was dipped inside a chemical bath to get all the scat off of his body, but you get the general idea.
“Wow…I’m running through these cities left and right. Pretty soon the whole world will be engulfed in a foul cloud of my malodorous butt expulsions. Now what city is next on my list?”
Leston studied the notepad and smiled widely at his next target: Furtopia. He heard much about this city, all the events that occurred and adventures some of the furries had, most notably a brown wolf named JT and his little inner-circle of friends. Sure, a portion of Furtopia didn’t mind flatulence, but another portion found fart jokes repugnant and vulgar. It was a good enough reason to go into town and stink it up a bit.
“All I need now is some fuel.”
Leston tip-toed past the other sleeping dragons until he arrived to his little stash of food. Leston opened up a crate and smiled deviously at what was inside: cans of beans, steak, cheeseburgers, Italian sausages, spicy sausages, eggs, cheese, even cabbage and purple eggplant. Leston examined his stash of food and dunked his head inside, chowing down on all the flatulence inducing foods. First he tore open several cans of beans and wolfed them all down without even chewing, to induce more gas. Then he grabbed eight eggplants with both hands and stuffed them all inside his maw, chewing on them noisily before swallowing so hard a lump was visible in his throat. Afterwards, he couldn’t help but twirl his tongue around several heads of cabbages and suck them inside his mouth, doing the same maneuver with four dozen eggs. He guffawed and licked his scaley lips.
“Oh man! I’m gonna be farting till my butt starts to deflate!!”
And with that, he dipped his head back down into the stash of gassy food, lapping up all the food his giant stomach would hold.
Sometime later, Leston finished eating and was flying towards Furtopia. His stomach had reached its ultimate capacity and it was gurgling and shaking, indicating the foul gas that was brewing inside. He already felt some gas heading towards his anus and knew the gas was on the verge of blasting out. Leston exhaled and stop flying, quickly descending to the road and holding his stomach as he stood on his hind legs.
“I think I ate too fast. I better sit down and relax my bowels.”
Leston sat down in the middle of the street with a seismic boom, sighing heavily and relaxing with his eyes shut.
“YUCK!! What happened to the lights? And what stinks?!” shouted a furry.
Ironically, he just so happened to sit down over an open manhole cover that was full of construction workers. One of them tried to get out of the sewers, but ran into Leston’s foul hide instead. Seeing as how the workers must’ve been trapped inside the sewers for hours Leston took this as a compliment, indicating his ass stank so much even someone residing in the sewers hated the smell. Without faltering or hesitating, Leston leaned over and farted into the manhole. He heard a splash in the distance and knew that the worker on the ladder must’ve fallen back down into the slimy water. Leston wasn’t sure what his gas smelled like, but for some reason, the thick stench of sewage waste was rampant. Some of the furries in the middle of the street could smell something funky and were busy walking away from the feral dragon. Leston simply sighed again, this time with fists made and his butt pressed deep into the hole. The white dragon grunted and let out a deep fart, before letting out a giant, sputtering one that sounded like a motorboat attempting to start its engine. This time, everyone on the block groaned and began to run away from him. Hell, Leston himself had to wave a hand in front of his nose and plug it with a claw.
“WHEW!! Was that me or the sewer?!”
Leston finally got off the manhole and looked around for another valuable target. There was a hotel residing next to him, a small shop that was selling flowers, and a few other minor amenities. There was a line of furries waiting at the bus stop and another furry selling brochures out of a kiosk, but all of them retreated upon smelling the sewage waste, or in this case, Leston’s noisome gas. And that’s when he saw it: a national park full of furries relaxing or playing some leisurely activity. Leston snickered and began to walk towards the park with his rumbling tummy. The dragon just happened to spot a majestic water fountain spewing crystal clear water and, since he was thirsty, maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Leston started strolling into the park in a casual fashion, not holding his stomach or stifling laughter or smiling slyly, just walking. Eventually he entered the park. None of the furries were appalled or threatened by Leston’s presence, but it wasn’t common for a dragon of this size to randomly take a walk in the park. Nevertheless, they ignored him and let him do whatever it was he was going to do. A talent agent suddenly walked past Leston while chattering into his cellular device when Leston let out a giant fart. It wasn’t exactly loud, but rather abrupt and smelly. The talent agent was taken by surprise by Leston’s butt expulsion, and immediately stopped walking, his pupils dilated. He didn’t even have time to finish taking a whiff of the odor before he passed out. Funny thing about it was Leston didn’t even care. He didn’t look back or snicker under his breath or point at the talent agent and laugh or even wave a hand around his posterior. He just kept walking, acting like he didn’t fart at all. But it was all part of his plan.
“Hey, does anyone smell that?”
Leston walked past a small group of raccoons and farted again, this time silently. As always, his SBDs smelled just as bad as his cloacae, with a small mixture of burning rubber. The raccoons quickly plugged their noses and high-tailed it out of the park. Still, Leston didn’t change his attitude. He wasn’t doing this intentionally either; each gas that came out of his rectum was purely his own body’s doings. The only thing was that Leston had no intention of holding his farts back in and releasing them into a contained, un-crowded area. The white dragon got closer to the water fountain and heard his stomach burble. It didn’t take long before more repugnant flatulence soared out of his anus, this time as loud as the first. The smell wasn’t stronger, but it was thick and made the atmosphere mysterious humid. It smelled like a boar who just got through eating a smorgasbord of legumes. Better yet, it smelled like a boar who just got done rolling around in a dirty dragon’s behind. Not Leston’s though; despite how bad it smelled, Leston’s own ass was clean and only had small unnoticeable smudges of dung on it. Upon smelling the noxious gas, a couple of avians who were on a tree branch shielded their beaks with their large, feathery wings, muttering distasteful comments before flying away from the park. Leston really loved this idea because he seemed to be acting more like an animal. And, like many animals, they defecate and break wind whenever they want to, in public or otherwise. Leston could simply walk over to every furry in this park and fart in their faces and force them to sniff, but then they’d show strong discontent for him in the process and may even try to run him out of town. However, by merely walking around and farting unintentionally, no one said anything or bothered him. Furries and humans knew that animals had to relieve themselves and didn’t know how to cover up their waste expulsions. There wasn’t anything they could really do except hope the animal would get rid off all the gas quickly. You can’t yell at an animal to stop farting, but you can yell at an animal to stop pranking you by farting and expect a result. Everyone in the park would just have to overcome the odor or get out of the area.
“Who let the stinky dragon into the park?!!?” shouted a bear.
Leston got closer to the fountain and farted so hard it felt like one of the spikes on his tail blew right off. Luckily it didn’t, but that didn’t mean it smelled pleasant. The bear who was wondering how Leston got into the park retched before pulling his shirt over his nose and escaping the park. In fact, all sorts of furries were running out of the park to escape; none of them were equipped with gasmasks unfortunately. With the park nearly cleared out, Leston dipped his head into the fountain and started lapping up the cool water with his tongue, still letting out some foul flatulence with no avail at stopping the butt blasts. After Leston quenched his thirst and looked around the park, realizing no one was there, he opened his mouth and started hooting with laughter, leaning against the fountain and pounding his fist on it. The white dragon fell to his back and started farting and chuckling like a hyena who finished huffing a large container of nitrous oxide. But Leston quickly controlled his howling and stood back up, shaking his head and putting his game face back on. This was only his number two prank on his night of pungent debauchery.
“Now what could be better than pranking a small gang of hoodlums?” said Leston to himself.
The dragon was perched onto the edge of a bridge, looking into a dried-out steam that was underneath the bridge. The walls and ground were made of concrete and the whole area made it easy for some teenagers to turn the park into a skate park, which is what happened. Right now, the dragon was observing three furries in hoodies spray-painting the wall with their gang tags. Leston wasn’t sure who the gang was, but they were notorious in the city of Furtopia, mostly known for tagging and robbing from convenience stores. The gang members (the low level ones anyway) wore dark red hoodies and pants, and on the back of the hoody was a green symbol, a ring with weird, funky squiggles and zigzags in the center of it. But none of this was important to Leston. What was important was that he was going to fart them into submission. The white dragon slowly fluttered down to the taggers and approached them from behind. However, instead of introducing himself, he merely smiled deviously and turned around, his tail raised. He then walked backwards to the hoodlums until one of them stopped tagging and sniffed the air, plugging his nose.
“Dude, you randomly get the strong stench of ass in your nose?” asked one of them.
“Eh, must be the paint cans. It does have a warning label saying the smell could be noxious.”
“If you say—URK!!”
The hoodlums were suddenly smushed in-between Leston’s butthole and the wall they were painting with the cans. Both of them started protesting in muffled shouts, but Leston couldn’t make out what they were saying, nor did he care what they were saying. He wasn’t pressing hard, which meant their bones weren’t getting crushed and if they could open their mouths to swear out loud, they certainly could breathe through them. The hoodlum next to his friends was looking at the dragon who just pinned his buddies to the wall, using nothing but the power of his pungent ass. With that, Leston blew out a giant fart on the two, seasoning the fresh air with rambunctious, bean-smelling gas. Leston snickered evilly with a grin on his face and the two hoodlums began to scream and hit the wall with their fists, trying to escape the flabby, smelly death chamber. But it was all useless. The remaining hoodlum abandoned his friends and ran away screaming, not wanting to be surrounded by the horrific odor. Leston raised his tail and let out another rich fart that could’ve disintegrated a leaf from the heat. The dragon later wiggled his butt and buried the stench deeper into the gang members so the stench would stay in their clothing forever.
“MMPH!! MM-MHPH!!”
“What, you guys want some more?”
“MHPH!!!”
“Okay then, you asked for it!”
Leston leaned to the side with his tail and leg raised and farted so loudly the fence that was on the bridge began to rattle and a car began to screech out in the road. Leston heard a crash and assumed that the wall he farted on was connected to some fault, judging by the fact he could feel the earth beneath him shaking. Leston couldn’t even tell what air smelled like anymore; this fart smelled that bad. All he could smell now was eggs, beans, cheese…and burritos. Stale, beefy burritos. And maybe a hint of nachos. Although all these foods sound scrumptious and mouth-watering, smelling them mixed with dragon ass is not something that could be categorized as appetizing or pleasing to the olfaction sense. In fact, it was so unappetizing, that the hoodlums passed out within a couple of seconds. Leston took a few steps forward and heard the gang members fall to the ground. He turned around and chuckled before looking down the area and noticing the remaining gang member was busy trying to escape the smell. Leston flapped his wings and got into the air, quickly flying over to the final vagrant. Once he was above the fleeing furry, he came crashing to the ground from behind. The furry turned around and yelped for a brief second before he was impaled by the scaley behind. He went down and started tumbling to the ground until he stopped rolling around. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that Leston was sitting directly on his body, his butt inches away from his nose.
“WHAT THE HELL!!?! Get offa me you lizard with wings!”
“I don’t think so.”
Leston scooted backwards a bit so his cloacae were literally right above his nose. Any closer and the furry would smell the inside of his anus, not that he couldn’t already get a strong whiff of it.
“Get off me right now; your ass stinks!”
“If you think that smells bad, just wait until my gas starts acting up!”
“…Gas?”
Leston lifted his tailhole and blew a hot sensation of air into the hoodlum’s nose, stinking his air with the burst of flatulence, which lasted for a couple of seconds. The furry coughed violently for a couple of seconds before another horrible smell entered his nostrils, smelling three times worse than before. This fart wasn’t louder than the previous one, but it lasted longer and was redolent of dragon dung and chili. The white dragon couldn’t help but laugh raucously and fan the stink right into the furry’s nose.
“GET YOUR FAT ASS OFF OF ME YOU STINKY SON OF A BIT—”
Leston scooted backwards so much the furry’s whole head was buried under his ass.
“That’s enough talking for now.”
Like always, he groaned again and patted his rumbling belly before the predictable action happened, and the furry was greeted with a monstrous odor of dragon ass releasing foul wind from his behind. The expulsion was wetter than the last two and Leston was beginning to wonder if he crapped out a few lumps of excrement, but he didn’t care at the moment. He just wanted to relieve himself of his abdomen bubbles so he wouldn’t have to deal with it later. And besides, he was putting it to good use. Nothing better than fighting vice with the power of flatulence right? The hoodlum desperately tried to scurry from underneath the dragon, but he was too heavy to slide out from underneath and the smell of his derogatory ass wasn’t making him stronger. All he could do was stare at the plump anus with no protection from the smell as more gas crept into his system. And like his friends, it didn’t take long for the furry to pass out. Leston finished off his wet fart with a loud poot before rising from the surface, his own nose plugged.
“I hope these guys learned their lesson! I suppose they should be lucky; if I swallowed a bottle of laxatives this situation could’ve ended a helluva lot worse for them!”
Leston continued his patrol of stinkiness and found a local bar on the outer rim of Furtopia, surprisingly, a hideout for small-time gang members such as the hoodlums he encountered a couple of hours ago. The white dragon could tell that many of the furries inside were most likely playing pool, drinking beer, playing cards or were fighting with each other. All of the cars with the same gang symbol were parked outside the bar and haven’t been turned on for a while. Leston quietly picked up one of the cars with ease and set it down in front of the front door, blocking anyone from entering or exiting the bar. He then grabbed an SUV and placed that down at the back entrance, blocking that path too.
“Hey!! Which one of you parked their car in front of the door?!” asked a bar patron.
Leston climbed to the top of the building and firmly planted his rear over the air vent leading to the inside. The dragon didn’t even give a warning of advisement to find safe haven or even a sappy comment to foreshadow the gang members’ doom. He just fluttered his wings before letting loose and cutting so much cheese the inside of the bar was becoming smoky. Everyone in the bar started to retch violently and get on all fours before passing out or coughing violently. Some of the furries were busy banging on the doors, trying to escape, while others simply hid in the bathrooms riddled with filth, feeling that the stench in there was of no comparison to the stench that was quickly filling inside the bar. About 15 seconds had gone by and the white dragon was still passing gas. Leston was beginning to regret his decision of not eating anything to accelerate a bowel movement; this would be a perfect time to fill the bar with giant turds that would never wash off the pool table. The gang members just had to be lucky that the bar wasn’t filled with furries smoking cigarettes or cigars, or a fire could start.
“You guys alright down there? I hope none of you hate the smell of chili dogs and Mexican food!” laughed Leston.
As he was farting, Leston began to make fists and his long fart abruptly became deeper and more sputtered. Someone might’ve mistaken the sound coming from an elephant seal, and probably would’ve mistaken the smell coming out of a walrus’s posterior. More gang members lost consciousness and a light green haze was sifting around in the bar. With no other option, a bar patron broke open a window and jumped outside, ignoring any glass shavings that got into his arm. He panted as he sprinted his way over to his car, but Leston heard him running across the ground. He couldn’t let him get away, not with the farting streak he was on. So naturally, he hopped off the building and went over to the car. The furry was desperately trying to escape, having his keys already inside the ignition and his windows down so he could hop inside like an impersonation of The Dukes of Hazard. As soon as he started the car and the ignition came on, he gunned the car forward. Unfortunately, as he began to drive, a white apparition appeared in front of him and the sand began to blow towards his windshield. A loud rush of wind was heard which combined with the screeching of the tires in the sand. It wasn’t until the smell hit him that the hoodlum realized the apparition wasn’t ghostly at all. In fact, it was Leston, who had his shiny rear in front of the car with his tail raised. The western dragon was farting so hard that the car couldn’t go any faster and was being blown back by the power of it. Leston was grunting with his eyes shut and his ass jiggling immensely. His ass was literally beginning to hurt at this point, but he couldn’t let the gang member get away. And if the gang member had covered his snout with his hoody, he would’ve. But due to the smell, it didn’t take long for the furry to pass out and slouch over in his car seat, his forehead banging on the horn. Leston lowered his tail and sighed with relief, collapsing to the ground and panting with his tongue out.
“I think…that’s enough pranking for one day.”
Leston was standing triumphantly on a hill overlooking Furtopia, ready to leave the city and return back to his home. But, before he did, he had one last trick in store. As the dragon flapped his wings and began to fly through the air, he flew right over the center of the city, his stomach bubbling loudly. Leston hovered in the same area for a few seconds before aiming his butt down and letting out a short, but supersonic fart into the city. It didn’t take long for the gas to shower the furries on the street and for all of them to be overwhelmed by the odor.
Upon hearing all the distasteful comments about the smell, Leston smiled widely and flew away from the city, laughing to himself at a job well done.
Category Story / Fetish Other
Species Western Dragon
Gender Male
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 56 kB
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