Even though I'd been lettin' loose with gas from my mouth, I was still shy 'bout lettin' loose the same from my backside. I finally broke free when I was on my third super burrito (a creation of my own where I took a burrito from Chipotle and added McNuggets to it) when the pressure in my ass was at maximum. I could feel the gas shiftin' inside my bowels, causin' my over taxed stomach to feel unnaturally full. I fidgeted 'round for a few seconds before my inner slob said "Forget it, you already smell like month old cheese".
I hesitated for a moment, considerin' the consequences. I knew once I ceded some of my bowel control, it would never come back. It could mean a lot of things; restaurants might stop lettin' me in, my family might just not wanna deal with such a smelly fat fuck 'round their house, and above all, without those two I'd have no way to feed myself. Despite all this, if I didn't let this fart right now I couldn't squeeze another bite in and that's just totally unacceptable. So I decided, it was all worth this extra morsel, and opened the back door to let the dogs out.
I was almost hopin' for a small squeaker, but what I got was a foghorn. It went on for what felt like an eternity and it violently rocked my lumpy butt, jigglin' it like jello on a broken washing machine. When it was over, it smelled like roadkill in July. Once again I expected a reaction from my parents, but they simply looked at her, crinkled their noses, and went back to their food. To drive the point home I let out an equally disgustin' belch, sprayin' damp chunks 'cross the table. Again, nothin'. Shruggin' it off, I turned off the dams in her colon and allowed it to speak freely. Every meal from henceforth was gonna be a symphony from my ass."