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The International Women’s Farting Competition II: The Rancid Road To Repeating (Part 1)
———-
July 1, 2025
Air-ass Hotel and Casino
Las Vegas, Nevada
10:30 AM
———-
“Alright ma’am, just tell me when.” Said a server at the Air-ass Hotel and Casino continental breakfast.
Grabbing the serving spoon, he began to dig into the pan of scrambled eggs, and dumped a couple heapings of them onto her plate. He glanced up at her expression. It was as still as stone, unmoving, unemotive, and unexpressive. Instinctively, he went back down and scooped another heaping of steaming, hot yellow scrambled eggs and dumped more into her plate. Looking back up at her expression, he noticed she was still as poker-faced as before.
“Uhh… ma’am?! Just a reminder, but when you want me to stop, tell me when!” He said.
She glared back, raising a single eyebrow, putting a hand on her hip, and leaning a bit to the side.
“Ummm… ok, then…” he mumbled.
He went back in, digging up another half pound or so of eggs, and putting them onto her plate. Her plate by now had been fully consumed by an ugly, yellow, thick continuous layer of blended baby chicks. He looked back up at her.
Nothing.
He sighed exasperatedly, once again scooping an even larger amount of eggs. He scooped three times, slapping them onto her plate with the serving spoon, bits of egg flying up into both of their faces. He looked back up at her….
She tilted her head, and gave him a slight smirk. He could see it in her eyes; he could see that whoever this woman was, she was truly EVIL. “Jesus! How much more eggs you want bitch?!” He thought. “See, this is the problem with motherfuckers like HER. She doesn’t respect workers, or others eating here that may also want eggs! What a piece of shit!”
He angrily gripped the serving spoon, and stabbed it into the tray of scrambled eggs. He took it out, and slammed it onto her plate. By now, half the tray of eggs had gone and her plate sported a small hill of eggs. He looked up at her, trying to contain his anger and bite his tongue of curses so he doesn’t get fired from his job. They made long, deep eye contact.
“When.” She said.
He forced a smiled, heavily gritting his teeth together “en…joy!” He said with his eye twitching.
“The fucking audacity of some people, bruh!” He said under his breath.
He watched her turn around and walk away. It was candy to his eyes, watching the two, overpumped basketballs which were her asscheeks bounce up and down simultaneously in her blue sweatpants, battling for supremacy over her trousers. “Gahhhh DAYUM!” He mumbled. “You know what? Everything I said about her I take back, because all those eggs definitely going to the right place! SHIT! She about to make a brotha do sumn’ he gon REGRET!”
She took her seat at the table, with the rest of her blue sweatsuit, fart sorority. “Mmmh, mmmh, MMMH! I’m hungrier than a muthafucka! Come to Serafina scrambled eggs!” Said Serafina Wind, as she began stuffing her face.
“Daaaaamn Fina! That’s a lot of eggs there! I mean, you already ate a bunch of other food already, you sure you can finish all those big dog?” Said her teammate, Victoria Jimenez.
“She’s Serafina Wind, of course she’s gonna finish them bro!” Said Ember Anderson-Diaz, another one of her teammates.
“Seems like you were over there forever. These servers are slow as fuck!” Said Jimenez.
“Mmmh-hmmm. But at least I left they asses a gift when I walked away! HAHAHAHA!” Laughed Serafina.
“Oh my god girl, what did you do???” Asked Diaz.
“I ripped a mean ass silent but deadly fart when I was walking away HAHA! His ass probably smelling it right now!” Said Serafina.
The three of them looked behind them, to see the man who had served Serafina her eggs violently coughing and swiping at the air.
“(Cough!) God Dammit! That bitch fucking fucking (COUGH!) farted when she walked away!! Damn man! (COOOUGH!) some animal must’ve crawled up her ass, took a shit, ate the shit turd, BURPED, inhaled the burp, fucking farted, DIED, which somehow subsequently caused her to rip ass! She needs to check her fucking panties!” He cried.
The three of them began to crack up. “AAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Laughed Serafina “He is going THROUGH it!”
“Duuuude! You’re evil!” Said Diaz, playfully punching her in the arm.
“Ehh, I’m just saying, if that fart was from my ass he’d be suffering a lot more! They don’t call me ‘culo de lava’ back in LA for nothing! Give me a bowl of my mom’s pozole and watch everyone in this room’s nostril hairs burn!” Said Jimenez.
“Bitch please! You wanna have a fart off?” Said Serafina.
“Naahhh, I ain’t tryna cause no nuclear fallout, foo!” Replied Jimenez.
“Oh my god, n-n-nuclear fallout?! D-d-do you guys th-think that’ll actually happen? Fuck, Vicky! Why did you have to bring that up??! Now I’m all scared! And when I get scared my tummy starts to do flips! Said Diaz, as she began to grip her stomach.
“Ay bursa escort yai yai!” Jimenez said rolling her eyes. “I swear bro, you’re so scary! Like some little baby chihuahua!”
“I just don’t want a nuclear fallout to happen bro!” Cried Diaz.
“Well a nuclear war is about to happen if y’all don’t start EATIN’ YOUR DAMN FOOD!!” Yelled their coach, Juliana Todd, as she approached the girls. “I swear to FUCK that if we don’t win this game against Team France today I will nuke the shit out of America! I swear!! I’ll call up Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un to nuke America since y’all don’t want to take fartin’ seriously! And trust me, them fuckers’ll do it!”
Diaz clenched her stomach once more, and began to hyperventilate out of fear. “Oh my god, oh my god! I think I’m gonna, I think I’m gonna–“
BRRRRUUUUUMMMMFFFF!
She released a booming fart, the sound of it heavily reverberating off the leather chair she was sitting on. “Uhh, haha! Oopsies…” she said, as she began blushing.
“Christ’s nutsack! Fuck, Diaz! Say it, don’t spray it! Y’know, ‘don’t spray it’… as in OUTCHER ASS!” Said Coach Todd, who was standing behind Diaz.
“Yeah, save that shit for France!” Said Serafina fanning the air and holding her nose.
“It’s not my fault!” She yelled. “You guys made me anxious with the… the-um.. ‘N-U-K-E-S’…”
“Ugggh, you’re a mess…” groaned Jimenez.
“Anywho… why is it just the 3 of y’all here? Where in hell are your other 3 teammates at? They need to be here eating!” Said Coach Todd.
“Well, Thunderhawk said she has really bad diarrhea this morning, but she ran out of toilet paper, so she texted the group chat to bring her some more and Kayla said she’ll do it!” Replied Diaz.
Coach Todd rolled her eyes and groaned. “Uggggh… lemme guess, it was that damn cheesy ass pizza she had last night that I told her ass not to eat!”
“Mmmh-hmmm! And she probably been on the John for about 45 minutes by now!” Said Serafina.
“Ugggh! How many times do we gotta remind her that she’s lactose? Lemme tell y’all, that girl can be a fucking idiot sometimes!” Said Coach Todd.
“You say that like we don’t have Kayla fucking Johnson on our team… I mean, she literally thinks the fucking moon is a planet and that Texas is bigger than Alaska!” Said Jimenez.
“Well she definitely ain’t bright, but that girl can fart her ass off, and we need her on this team!” Said Coach Todd. “Speaking of which, I feel like we’re missing someone… but I just can’t put my finger on it…”
She stroked her chin, thinking. “Hmmmm, we got Wind, Jimenez, Diaz, Thunder, Johnson… who else are we missin? Y’all know who we’re missing?” Asked Coach.
“I dunno…” said Jimenez shrugging her shoulders.
“Hmmm…” said Serafina. “ion know eith-“
Before Serafina could finish her sentence, the front doors to the hotel lobby viciously jolted open. A big-haired brunette woman confidently strutted into the lobby, decked out from head to toe in expensive designer clothes. Her various gold and platinum pieces of jewelry jingled and jangled as she walked forward into the breakfast area, her red bottom high heels clicking on the tile floor each step she took.
She opened her mouth and waved to greet them, her loud, deep, gravely voice disgraced their ears to the point of torture. Her extremely thick New York accent didn’t help soften the blow on their eardrums either…
“YERRRRRRRR!!! I’M BACK BITCHES!!! MISS ME??!” She yelled. “BECKY G BACK IN DA HOUSE BIIAAATCHES!”
The four of them all collectively moaned. “Uggggh, that’s who we’re missing… please just fucking kill me already…” Moaned Serafina.
“Why the fuck is she asking if we missed her? We literally saw her yesterday!” Said Jimenez.
“Yeah, and look at all that damn jewelry and designer shit she got on… I just KNOW her ass been gambling!” Said Serafina.
“Giordano, you’re late! Come sit your ass down right now and start eating! And take off all those fancy clothes and that gaudy jewelry so you can put on your Team USA uniform!” Said Coach Todd.
“Oh put a cork in it already Juliana! You can’t rush perfection!” Said Giordano.
“Exactly, and you’re fucking late!” Said Coach.
“I’ll do what you say when you make me head honcho of this team instead of Serafina!” Said Giordano.
“Psssh! I’ll make you team captain once you stop pissing your pants on the damn team bus!” Said Coach Todd.
“Oh go to hell Juliana! Me pissing my pants on the bus after Fina farted on my face repeatedly was like a one time freak accident! Ugly fucking bitch!” Screamed Giordano.
Coach Todd stormed closer to Giordano, invading her personal space. “I’m the ugly one? Have you looked in the mirror? You got a face only a mama could love! Well, only if her eyes were gouged out!”
“I’ll gouge YOUR eyes out!”
“If that spares me from having to see the sight of YOU then I will gladly oblige!”
“Ohhhhhh! Hahahaha! Get roasted Becky!” bursa escort bayan Said Jimenez.
“Hahahahaha! You ruthless, Coach!” laughed Serafina.
“Hey! Why don’t you two obese buttfucks keep your giggling to yourselves, or SO GOD HELP ME, I WILL COME OVER THERE AND FUCKING BEAT YOU TWO CHUCKLEFUCKS SO HARD THAT YOU’D WISH YOU’D BE EATING A MUSHY LOAD OF THUNDERHAWK’S SHIT INSTEAD!!” Screamed Giordano.
Serafina annoyingly rolled her eyes. “Whaaatever… just go sitcho ass down. You don’t want no part of these hands cuz lord knows these shits rated B for beatin’ bitches butts!”
“Pffft! Yeah, go sit down, Rebecca!” Teased Jimenez.
“Hmph!” Said Becky, crossing her arms, as she walked to go take a seat at the end of the table by herself.
Coach Todd shook her head. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… all this tardiness and absence… all you girls need to get your heads in the game! This year the IWFC committee is mixing up the divisions and conferences! That means we’ll have way more difficult competition from the get go before the championship! We’ll have to fart against teams all across the globe that we’ve never farted against before to get to the championship! Not to mention we’ve got more matches this year as well!”
“Wait, really??” Asked Diaz.
“Yes! We can’t just steamroll over weaker teams like Team Guatemala, Team Costa Rica, and Team Bahamas anymore! We’ll have to play powerhouses like Team France from the get go!!!” Said Coach.
“Eh, Team Costa Rica was pretty good in my opinion.” Said Serafina. “They had some legit farters!”
“Yeah and the Jamaicans were pretty good too! Don’t forget about them!” Said Jimenez.
“Yeah but in these other countries, they don’t just got good farters… they got great ones! Ones who live to fart! It’s not just a fun pastime like it is in Costa Rica and shit!” Said Coach. “Now, I need y’all to promise me that you’ll leave all your gas out there on that fart floor today, and give it your ALL! Repeating as IWFC champions ain’t easy, and we must defend our title valiantly! Got that?!”
“Yes Coach!” Said Serafina, Jimenez, and Diaz in unison.
“BLOW ME!!” Yelled Giordano from afar.
“(Sigh)… I’m tired of her crap… Can one of y’all go fart in her face please?” Asked Coach.
“You got it!” Said Jimenez, giddily. She quickly rushed out of her seat, and bolted her way towards Giordano’s seat, grabbing a large bunch of her hair. “AAAAAHHHH! GET OFF ME VICKY!! GET YOUR GROSS FLABBY ASS OFF MY FAAAAAACE!!” Screamed Giordano, pounding her fist into Jimenez’s hips.
FFFFFFRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPT!
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! GET OFF!!” She yelled again.
SSHHHHHHLLLLLUUUURRRPLURPLURPLURP!
“(BLEEECH!) LAY OFF THE FUCKING REFRIED BEANS YOU FATASS! I CAN PRACTICALLY FUCKIN TASTE ‘EM! (BLEEECH!)”
SHHHHHFFFFFFFLLLLRRRAAAAABBBBBLT!
“(BLLEEEEECH!) I FUCKING HATE YOU VICKYYYY!”
Jimenez finally removed Giordano’s face from her ass. She laughed as Giordano practically hacked up her lungs, struggling for air. “And there’s more where that came from SKONKA!” Said Jimenez.
“Ahahahahaaa! Aw man, Vicky you a menace!” Laughed Serafina. “How’s it smell, *Beckyyy?* Hmmm?”
“Hahahaa! I live to see Becky get what’s coming to her!” Laughed Diaz.
Still sniffing Jimenez’s fart, Giordano began to dry heave. She instinctively put her hand over her mouth, as her cheeks expanded and contracted like a pufferfish. “Oh no… (HUUUAAAAAGGH!) I might puke! (HUUAAAGH!) But I also have to piss and I feel like if I puke I’ll end up pissing my pants! (HUUUUAAAACK!)”
Suddenly, she got up, pushing Jimenez out of the way and bolted to the bathroom down the hall, gagging each step.
“Holy shit! Look bro, she’s actually gonna puke!!” Said Diaz pointing to her.
“Wow, she actually runs in high heels pretty well, huh y’all?” Said Serafina.
“Yeah!” Nodded Diaz. “Kinda like Bryce Dallas Howard in Jurassic World!”
“Heel toe, heel toe, PUTA! HAHAHA!” Laughed Jimenez.
“By the way Giordano, don’t forget to put your uniform on while you’re back there!” Yelled Coach Todd.
———-
12:00 PM
IWFC stadium
———-
Close to 70,000 fans were in attendance to witness the first day of the 2025 International Women’s Farting Competition, mainly due to the IWFC committee throwing multiple wrenches into the equation, no longer forcing countries to be bound by geography, (AKA forcing them to fart against only other countries close to theirs to qualify for the competition or while in the competition) and expanding the amount of teams from 24 to 64 in total, which subsequently upped the amount of matches each team has to play to make it to the championship.
The atmosphere of the stadium was electric. Fans chanted in their native languages, sung songs, painted their faces, and waved their nation’s flags in the crowd.
“FRANCE, FRANCE, FRANCE, FRANCE, FRANCE!” Chanted the tens of thousands of French fans in the crowd, escort bayan as they interlocked hands and jumped up and down repeatedly.
“VA TE FAIRE FOUTRE AMÉRIQUE!!” Screamed a fat, middle aged Frenchmen, as he chucked a half empty beer can across the crowd.
“PUTAIN!!! FRANCE WILL OUT FART ZE AMERI-CAHNS!!”
“YOU BET-TURCCHH WATCH OUT AMERI-CAHN!”
“I WILL KILL ALL YOUR FAMILY AMERI-CAHN!”
Team USA walked onto the fart floor a bit rattled, never having seen such passion from fans. “Lord, I haven’t seen the fans this fired up since one of my first IWFC matches against Mexico back in 1999!” Said Coach Todd. “Man… I remember ’99 like it was yesterday! I was just a young twenty-sumn, shitting my pants having to fart against some of the best farters in the world!”
“Woah, cool! Coach, did you guys win?” Asked Johnson.
“Hell yeah we did! We beat Mexico’s ASS! Too bad we lost to fucking Brazil the very next match….” Said Coach Todd. “Grrrrr! Fucking Brazilians! Those cheating, air-pumping, sons of bitches!”
“Woah guys, look! That French guy is dancing!” Said Thunderhawk, pointing to a random guy in the crowd. “Wait a minute, never mind. He’s just waving his penis in a circle… ew…” she said, slowly putting her hand back down.
“Dude, look! That French girl is sucking that other guy’s nipple! Guess it’s Opposite Day or sumn’, hahahaha!” Laughed Giordano. “Ooh! And look, Lizzo is in the stands too! Oh wait, my mistake! That’s just Serafina walking in front of me…”
“Well Lizzo about to fart on you if you don’t shut up right now!” Angrily said Serafina.
As they approached the bench, they saw from afar a group of 6 women running to the other benches on the other side of the fart floor. “courir! courir! courez, vous êtes des connards sans valeur!” Said an older woman, clapping her hands at the running girls.
“Ooh! Is that Team France?” Asked Johnson.
“Nah, it’s actually Team Vietnam. You can see it in their faces and phenotypes. Tall, White, and European looking. All Viets look that way.” Replied Giordano.
“Wait, really?”
“No you fuckwad! Of course it’s Team France! AH-DUURRRR!!!” Shouted Giordano, with her mouth agape, her tongue out, and her eyes cross-eyed trying to make fun of Johnson.
“Jeez, you don’t have to be so mean about it!” Whined Johnson.
“I don’t care! Sure you may have proved yourself worthy of being apart of this team last year, but you still replaced my girl Cheese Curd! And lemme tell ya, Cheese Curd was a fucking G! That woman could fart so hard you’d be wishing you were deaf and smell blind! And I’ll never forgive you for that!” Said Giordano.
“She’s right… if Cheese Curd didn’t rupture her anus from farting too hard back in 2023 I don’t even think you’d be on the team Kayla!” Said Jimenez.
“Alright, alright! Cut out all the banter, I’m gonna tell y’all the plan!” Said Coach Todd. “Giordano, you’re one of our most experienced farters and I know you won’t ever crack under pressure, so I’m putting you in first this round!”
“As you fucking should.” Said Giordano
“You ate a lot, right?”
“Hell yeah! I had 10 McGriddles, 13 hashbrowns, and 4 coffees from McDonald’s before I hit the casino this morning… I was ripping some major ass at the slots and a few dickless basterds came up and cried to me about the smell. I told them to fuck off and choke on a bag of cat cocks!”
“Well that food ain’t the healthiest, and that might cost us but I guess that’s nice to hear. Now get your ass in the game, Giordano!”
“Got it!”
Giordano quickly removed her Team USA sweatsuit and tossed it to the side, and sprinted into the fart square. She received an immense standing ovation from the fans as she did.
“GIORDANO I LOVE YOUUU!!”
“YEAH!! SHOW THOSE SURRENDERING BAGGUETTE EATING FUCKS HOW AMERICA DOES IT!”
“SIGN MY BOOBS BECKY!! SIGN MY BOOBS!!”
She took a second, and basked in her glory. “I love it! I fucking love it!”
“Hoh-hoh-hoh! Enjoy your standING ovaSHON, zyou filthy cheesebur-GER eating American! Zis is zuh year that I bring zuh IWFC championshEEEP baCCCK to itz rightful home: FRANCE! Hoh-hoh-hoh!”
Giordano playfully looked around the fart floor, pretending not to see the French farter that had been standing there before she got there. “Huh? Did I hear a loser speaking right now? Hmmm, must’ve been the wind…”
“I am right here!”
“Whoa! It’s like… there’s some ghost in here or something! Like some ghost who likes to lose fart matches–a loser ghost! Oooh, spooky…”
“You are LEETERALEE standing in front of me!”
“Psssst! Loser ghost? Are you there bro? Pssst! Loser ghost! I come in peeeaaace!”
“Ugggh! Putain! How dare you disrespect Colette Fontaine! I am 10 time French fart champion!”
—
Farter Profile: Colette Fontaine (Captain of Team France 🇫🇷)
Age: 31
Race/Ethnicity: White (French 🇫🇷)
Physical Appearance: 5’9, 145 lbs, short brown hair, brown eyes, red lipstick, slim figure
Hometown: Toulouse, France
Achievements: 10x French Fart Champion, 8x Andorra Fart Champion, eats 6 large meals a day, has evacuated multiple restaurants in the South of France and in the microstate of Andorra due to the intense smell of farts
Fart speciality: Sound, force, smell
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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32