One-Shots

2. Shrek: Farting Contest

Note: The ship written about, opinions, and dialogue of the characters do not necessarily reflect that of the author. Please do not kill me.

Fiona's POV

Few mothers and daughters truly have that special connection. One where they can tell each other everything. One where they never feel ashamed.

That is the way me and mother are.

It started off innocent, and frankly, an accident. We were riding horses, the bouncing set some bubbles into motion and, well, I queefed.

Of course it was embarrassing, and I thought she didn't notice, that is, until she ripped one in response, albeit from her ass, that seemed to startle even the horse as he bucked, which in turn caused her to fart in fear. It was not a good situation as one thing repeatedly lead to another.

In one grand kick, she fell from the horse, landing in a mud puddle on the ground with one final butt belch. Nearly pissing myself laughing, I dropped down to help her up, and, with too many activities at once, I felt my anus unpucker and let out a trumpet of sound that nearly sent me off the ground.

Mother's head rolled to the side, and with slitted eyes she growled, "You dare challenge the queen?"

I didn't even respond to her question, but that was the way the game began. We stopped talking anymore. In fact, we resorted to passing gas to answer any pressing questions the public had. Yes? A single foghorn blast. No? Two sharp arse whistles. Yet, eventually, all good things come to an end.

I was sick with the flu and bedridden when Mother, for the first time in months, spoke to me.

"Would you like some soup, love?"

Grinning, knowing all that stood between me and winning the game was mustering one musical toot, I focused on pushing.

Only I pushed too hard.

Instead of sweet victory, a heartstopping warmth crept out of my anal cavity, with brown tear drops seeping though the fabric of my underpants. Small clumps, probably of corn from supper last night, were felt rushing out between the lava I had let out. As the river made it's way down my crotch, burning streams down my legs, I looked up at my mother, horrified tears filling my eyes.

"Never challenge the queen, darling."

But yet, as she too made the move to win the game, I saw the same, horrified look on her face as a log fell from her dress. She made a move to kick it away, however, instead slipped on it and fell, face first, into her own shitty situation.