Mirror:

[Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/girlfartstories/comments/efzjay/layovers_part_1_reupload/)

Has SSBBW, crushing, farting, burping, armpits, mild implied scat, and BO.

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Evening came, and through the general hassle of existing in an airport I completely forgot about the rude woman from earlier. After what seemed like forever, I was finally on my flight, ready to head for New York. Comfy in my window seat, I watched everyone else board the flight. I waited to find out who I'd be seated with, but it began seeming more and more likely that I was going to be alone for seventeen hours. Fine by me, I brought books and WTNV episodes. Everyone settled into their seats and the intercom came on. Cool, no seatmate.

The sun was setting, and light came through the windows opposite mine. Like an omen of death, a figure passed between me and the window, casting a shadow on me. I looked up. Oh, god.

It was the rude woman from before. I stared dumbfounded at her. She cracked a smile and stepped out of the aisle. She lifted the armrest between us, turned, and sat. Her enormous body was much too big for one seat, so with no armrest she came spilling over into my space, squishing me against the wall of the plane. Her mammoth butt pinned my right arm to my side.

She acted entirely nonplussed, as if she had simply sat down in an empty pair of seats. That ambient body odor smell I remembered from earlier came back with a vengeance.

"Can you... let my arm go?" I ventured, nearly struck dumb by her complete lack of manners. She huffed and, with what seemed to be incredible effort, leaned to the right, lifting her huge left asscheek off of my arm. I removed it, but she didn't put her leg down.

BRRMMBMBMRM

A low, rumbling fart came spitting out from under her, right in my direction. The sickeningly warm air washed over me like a heatwave, and an entirely new foul scent pervaded my nose. Eggs were still prominent in the smell, but it was so much worse than just that. Finally, she lowered her leg.

"Get ready for more of those," she declared, not looking at me. "I had Taco Bell for lunch and Chipotle for dinner." She remained silent for a few seconds, then continued, "I'm gonna make your next seventeen hours hell," and rubbed her bulging, rotund stomach.

"...why?" I protested, still a little in shock about how she was acting.

"Because I like to fart, and make little scrawny bitches squirm," she said. With that, she lifted her flabby arm, exposing her rancid armpit, and rested it on my head, blocking me from being able to look at her face, even though she wasn't looking back.

A more powerful wave of sweat smell assaulted my nostrils. Her body odor problem was severe to say the least. It smelled like she'd never worn deodorant in her life. I wriggled out from under her arm, but before I could do anything else she grabbed me violently and shoved my face deep into her armpit. I was suddenly very acquainted with the yellow stains in the pits of her white shirt, and the acrid, sharp scent of her horrific armpit smell. She shoved me in hard, and finally let me go. I gasped for breath and looked around frantically, but nobody seemed to have noticed.

"Nobody cares, it's an airplane. Everyone's gonna mind their own business," she said, straining on the last word.

PLARP

A sharp, short fart bubbled out from underneath her. She grabbed my face and brought it close to hers.

"Now if you don't want more of that, I suggest you keep to yourself and let me put my arm wherever I damn well please," she said. She belched roughly, directly into my face. It was as if she'd been snacking on pastrami the entire day; that is to say, it was hell. After holding me there for a second to make me smell it, she let me go, looked away from me, and set her arm back on my head where it was before.

GLLRMMBLLRRMBLRRM

Great. More farts.

The plane began to taxi. As the incessantly loud rumbling of the plane shook the passengers, my vile captor seemed to take the rumbling as a challenge. An absolute cacophony of low, gurgling gas came spilling and spitting out from under her huge, disgusting bottom. Every single fart was a deep, long, powerful release that would, even individually, have any sane person swearing that that was all the gas a human could possibly hold. But for reasons unknown and unfathomable, she just kept on releasing them, one after the other.

And the volume wasn't the only thing inhuman about her gas. Within seconds I was choking on the fumes as her horrid farts reached new heights of revolting stench. Even other people on the plane were starting to notice the terrible smell. This continued for nearly fifteen minutes.

Out of nowhere, she reached down and roughly tore a page out of my book.

"Hey-" I began to protest, but she was hearing none of it.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were plucked out of the den of the three-headed dog and placed into a much more precarious situation as she leaned forward and shoved the page down the back of her yoga pants. She made a face of ecstasy as she moved her arm around like she was rooting for buried treasure in the cavernous depths of her ass. She pulled it out and, to my horror, the side she'd wiped with came out almost completely brown. To my further horror, she shoved it into my carry-on bag with my other books.

"Gonna need more than that," she said plainly, tearing another few pages out of my book.

I watched sorrowfully as my only distracting material went down the yoga pants, worth nothing more than to clean her disgusting ass. After a worrying amount of pages down the crack and back out, she seemed satisfied and finally stopped.

[more farting here]

"Lie down," she instructed me.

"What?"

"Lie across the seats. You heard me."

"But then I'd be..."

"Yep. You're going under the butt."

"No... no, I won't do that!" I protested

"Do you want the armpit again? Because I'll give you the armpit again."

"I'm not going under your ass."

Without another word, she moved forward, lifting her shirt and bringing it down over my head. Her gross body odor stink became ten times worse inside. As she sat, maneuvering my head around inside her shirt, I ended up face to pit with her horrifically disgusting underarms. The smell was unholy, it was intense as fire and as sour as old milk. I'd rather sit for the rest of the flight smelling her armpits from an arm's length than spend another second up under her shirt like that. I struggled like hell, but she just wrapped her arm around my head and left me there, uncaring, in complete smell hell, for around a minute.

She finally let me go and I pulled her shirt off of my head and gasped for breath. I felt soaked in her sweat, and I was near throwing up.

"Gonna go under the butt now?"

"No way... hah... you... hah... fucking bitch-"

She grabbed me once more, lifted her shirt, and shoved me back in. This time she left me there for nearly five minutes before finally letting me back out.

"Okay... okay... hah... I'll lie down." Surely going under her butt had to be less torturous than going in the armpit.

She stood, and I obediently placed my head down onto her seat. I regretted it the instant I did so. Her stale fumes wafted up from the soft cushion of the airline chair.

"Look up. I don't want your head in there, I want your face."

I obeyed.

As she sat, the entire world seemed to slow down.