The true Power of a F***

[BlackSuit]

First Story:
This fuck up happened years ago while I was in high school, but reading another TIFU reminded me of it.
Fuckup #1 A little while before class I'd eaten something that did not sit well with me.. my stomach was hurting pretty badly, but I was a good student, so I decided to go to class anyway.
The first half 30 minutes of the class went fine, but I was slowly getting a building feeling somewhere between needing to shit myself and needing to fart. Not wanting to miss class, I decided I could just hold it until the end of class. I felt the unavoidable fart building inside of me and prayed that I would be able to release it without anybody hearing me.
My execution was flawless. I kept my pucker just tight enough to not shit myself or make a loud farting noise, but loose enough that my fart could escape. A socially awkward situation was successfully avoided.
But the smell... oh my god, it was terrible. People around me starting asking what the hell the smell was and making accusatory remarks. Fortunately I had enough awareness of my limited social capital and the "who smelt it dealt it" rule to not be the first to say something, but I also didn't want to stand out for not saying anything, so I soon joined in on the accusations. And frankly, the smell was entirely gag-worthy. To this day I've never smelt anything so bad.
But joining in on the "oh my god who's doing that please stop/leave the room" turned out to be fuckup #2. Because the farts just kept on coming. The unending tension and pucker control required to quietly continue the controlled fart release was nerve wracking. One miscalculation and I'd have shit everywhere or make a noise lough enough everyone could hear it and I would no longer be able to deny it.
But now I was completely committed to the situation. There was no backing out, no leaving the room discreetly. If I left the room, everyone would know it was me. Not to mention the difficulty of standing without shitting myself.
By this point, enough noxious fumes were released that quite literally the entire room was gagging. The teacher opened the windows at the back of the room, the doors at the front of the room, and my classmates began to refuse to remain in the room and started to stand out in the hallway. It was that bad. If it weren't for my need to focus on keeping my internal situation under control, I would have joined them.
Eventually, my poor math teacher gave up and ended class. Everyone was so distracted by the smell that there was just no point trying to continue.
I'd released enough gas that it had become impossible to tell who/where the epicenter was. I, like everyone else, cleared out of the room, and no one noticed my carefully clenched ass slink away to the bathroom to release my inner kakatoa. My secret has remained safe to this day.

Second Story:
i have a story of a similar situation that happend when me and another was held in detention for french lesson. we were being moaned at by the teacher for a solid 10mins of solid speach and me and my friend (lets call him lee) were sat with our hands rested against our face were we was bored and being forced to listen. out of no were whilst the teacher was still mid monologue lee let go of this fart that sounded like a dog when you try to wake them up and move them, it was a cross between a deep hum with a growl at the end that led me to believe that lee had left a wet patch in his underwear. you could hear his arse hole spit at his boxer shorts st the end of this fart. the teacher instantly stopped talking and looked in utter shock at lee and asked 'what was that' by this point im creating a 6pack from laughing so hard and lee without changing his expression of bordem simply told the teacher he farted. she was disgusted and ran around the room opening windowd whilst dry heaving. by this point ive picked my self up off the floor and now lees giggling like a little school girl. in the end we got let out of detention 10mins early and the story was legendary among at school. it was a great day. please forgive spelling mistakes im trying on my phone!

Third story:
I've done something similar. It is one of the proudest moments of my life. It was in US Navy AD 'A' School in Millington, Tenn. My class was 20 Marines and 7 Sailors. I have no idea what kind of death was in my bowels that day but the smell emancipated during class in a fart so devilishly stinking that hardened Marines started coughing and choking. Years of training and proud Marine Corp stand your ground toughness went straight out the window as they all broke en mass for the door. The instructor implored everyone to remain seated but by the time the Marines were at the door the instructor got his first whiff, screamed 'oh my god' and also ran for the door himself. Within seconds the room was clear.
As I sat there alone with my feet propped on the table a huge grin stretched across my face. I took stock of the devastation. Chairs and tables upturned, papers all over the floor. I reveled in the the power of my fart and its incredible accomplishment. I alone had done what Germans and Japanese and Korean and Vietnamese and many others had failed to do. I made a group of Marines turn tail and retreat like pussies.

Fourth Story:
Being in the Navy myself for 13 years I feel the need to throw in my story. We were in the Phillipines in 85 for a week and had one of our A-6's go down on the way in so they landed at Subic airfield to be repaired, they wanted to do a test flight after repair and needed a QA guy to sign off on the bird before flight. They looked into my shop and they found me, hungover(not on duty) and sick to my stomach on food and booze from the night before. They told me to go monitor the launch even though I was still smashed. I weaved over to the hangar after dressing and grabbing my helmet, 95 degrees outside with humidity like I was swimming which only intensified the pains, sweating like I was in a marathon I arrived. The pilot and B/N who I knew well were laughing at me and making fun of my condition all the way up to the cockpit. Still laughing at me after turning up the engines and closing and pressurizing the cockpit at my agony. I had something brewing in me that could no longer be denied, I was not farting because I was afraid I'd Hershey squirt my coveralls but could not contain it any longer. On the A-6 by the nose gear are where the LOX(liquid oxygen) converters are for them to breathe while so high, there is a hose/valve assembly where you can plug in and talk to the pilot but....It also has a valve that if pushed sucks in air from the outside. Inspiration from somewhere deep inside of me(literally) made me walk over, pull the hose down and nestle it tight against my asshole and release the single most noxious smell I could ever imagine from anything other than a corpse into their airline. I stepped back where I could see them and right when I got to eyesight view it hit with the force of a gaseous atomic bomb. They flailed around with their arms as if to fight it off and couldn't open the glass because of it already pressurized and were making gestures of severe bodily harm that I would endure when they got ahold of me. The next day (after I calmly saluted them and walked away to get more drunk) the pilot found me and between laughing and hitting me told me they could taste that fart for what seemed like hours in the air stream. Greatest fart ever.

Fifth Story:
Long time lurker, first time poster. I didn't initiate this TIFU, but was a party to it, as we're an entire Boeing 737 of passengers, flight crew included. In the mid 90s, my mom, sister and I were late for a Southwest Airlines flight. We made it to the airport, ran to the gate and were the last three people allowed to board before they shut the doors. Due to the "seat yourself" policy and our lateness, we ended up sitting apart. I was in the front of the plane, my sister was in the middle, and my mom was in the last seat in the back. So, the plane takes off from BWI (Baltimore's airport) and climbs above the clouds. I put on my headphones and zoned out not being near anyone I knew. The flight progressed as normal. After a little while the flight attendants came and handed out peanuts and soda, totally normal. I decided to read and got lost in a book. This was the last vestige of normalcy on that flight.
I will never forget the odor that slammed into my nostrils at 30,000 feet as I read somewhere over Pennsylvania. It was fetid, foul and akin to something one might smell on a humid August day in the NYC subway (magnified by 1,000). I was jolted out of my leisurely reading and looked around. Other people in the front of the plane were also giving the side eye, looking for the flatulet culprit. Then it occurred to me. I had the misfortune of inhaling this noxious odor before.
I turned to my right (I had the aisle seat) and looked behind me. Halfway down the aisle I caught view of my sister. She too had an aisle seat and was looking straight at me, trying to suppress her giggles. We're both pasty gringas and her face was turning red. I shot her my best "that was foul" look, snickered, and went back to my book, the toxic cloud from her ass singing my nose hairs with each word I read. Luckily, this was not a long haul flight and somewhat soon after my sister "dropped her bomb" on a plane full of unsuspecting passengers the pilot began his descent. Maybe the cockpit has a different air supply than the cabin, I don't know. But if that poor pilot was up there choking on my sister's rank ass air, then he/she did a helluva job landing without incident. We taxied to the gate and disembarked. We waited for my mom and when she deplaned, we began to leave the airport.
As we were walking through the terminal my mom made a comment about the olfactory melange from hell that the entire plane had been forced to stew in. It was at this point that my sister and I both began laughing heartily, knowing what her ass had done. My mother was disgusted to say the least.
To this day, I will reference my sister's ability to make an entire plane load of passengers gag. I have also threatened to tell this story at her wedding should she ever get married (no, I wouldn't really do that). So in summation, my sister has the ability to turn a flying tin can into a pressurized flight from the bowels of hell.

Sixth story:
I'll share my story...
Many moons ago when I was a sedentary lard-ass, I had an affinity for a local fried chicken joints 3/3 platter (three pieces of chicken, and three sides). My regular was three breasts with mac & cheese, fries, and fried okra. This meal of excess would be accompanied by a quart of chocolate milk, and I would usually acquire said meal on my way home from the late shift at work (11 PM). I would revel in each piece of chicken, each spoonful of mac, and especially each little fried piece of pure okra heaven. I was to work the opening shift the next morning, so with a full belly, I went straight to sleep.
This witches brew simmered and stewed in my stomach over night, and although the indication was presented to me many times by my trusty sphincter, I did not allow the demons to be released. I hurried to work, and while setting up, it hit me: I NEED TO SHHHHIIITTT!
I clenched-walked to the only employee bathroom we had, and it was occupied. I did not fret: I could use the customer bathroom, and to add to this, our employee bathroom was located inside our break room, where other employees were trickling in enjoying their morning sundries.
Again, with the power of thor holding my sphincter shut, I clenched-walked to the customer bathrooms...FOILED AGAIN! Some other poor soul was punching a grumpy in the mens bathroom...but alas...what doth my eyes see? The womens bathroom is empty, and freshly cleaned by our cleaning staff. Yes...yes...this might work...yes...I will defile the holiest of holies.
I spread my ass-bosom and relaxed my brown eye. What flowed forth rivaled the mung of Beelzebub. It was horrid...it was vile...it was mine. Satisfied with my evil deed, I hurriedly exited the bathroom and took my station, all with no-one the wiser. Soon, questions began to spring forth, "What is that smell?" "Did someone burn the coffee?" "OH GOD WHAT IS BURNING?" Panic in the lobby, confused faces and calls to maintenance were had. Slowly...slowly...the smell diminished...but the question remained, "What was that smell??"
I smiled within; I had done the unthinkable, and gotten away with it...time to leave for lunch...but wait? Where is my employee badge? OH NO I HAVE ABANDONED IT INSIDE THE WOMENS BATHROOM! Just as my realization turned into fear, my manager walks over..."I believe this belongs to you." plops down badge
Shamed. SHAME! WHY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Seventh Story:
Apparently I am allergic to eggs in some fashion that they turn to sulfur in my gut - also apparently, in grade 10, I was more into weed, junk food, staying up late, coffee, and bad posture than gym class. One of the last gym classes I recall taking here in Canada, the perfect storm that was my lifestyle collided with my last breakfast involving fried eggs. I was standing listlessly among the eager jocks smilingly engaged in Mr. Idontgiveafucks instructions when my flora merged with my fauna and I Bhopaled the room - it was, however, a silent spring. My face was about to reveal all as the semi-shit hit the fan of my fluttering sphincter and was quickly reeking war-crime levels. But my saving grace was Dave Kelly, Kennedy-esqe in features and style, (now, this guy was going places and I really wanted to fuck his sister) who, with just the correct amount of delay, released a normal person's gas passage which audibly french-horned into the instant humor of the room. The amusement was short-lived though as the laughs turned to gasps and concentric circles of disgusted humans spread away from bewildered Dave whose face was brightly glowing. As I was among those quickly spreading away from Mr. Embarrassed, and still seeping the Cambodian Killing Fields out my ass, people were holding their faces shockingly declaring thirty feet from the nicest, best-looking most popular kid in school - "OH My God! I CAN STILL SMELL IT!" It was one of the best days of my life.

Eigth Story:
This reminds me of a story my grandfather has told me. This story has got to be greatly exaggerated or else completely made up, although I pray that it is 100% factual. Either way an amusing anecdote nonetheless. My grandfather's brother went to a barber shop on his lunch break to get a quick haircut but the line he had to wait in would take at least 40 minutes apparently. So my grandfather's brother sat in a chair and began waiting and according to legend unleashed the most putrid, devastating smell (silently, of course) which after a couple minutes cleared the barber shop of all patrons waiting for a haircut. People began making excuses like "look at the time, I can wait no longer" or "fuck, I totally forgot about such and such appointment, I have to go". Everybody left and my genius relative hopped into the next available barber's chair and had his hair cut and made it back to work with time to spare. As a side note, not that this is important, but this happened in Italy in the 1940s.

Nineth story:
In 8th Grade I got suspended for farting in class. We were doing these stupid book presentations and had a Nazi women for a teacher. No one could stop laughing because I'd keep ripping ass during the presentations and for whatever reason we were sitting on the floor as fucking 8th graders. She called me out into the hall and reprimanded me and told me to stop.
About halfway through another monotone presentation of "To Kill a Mockingbird" in an all white class, I REALLY rip ass. Like almost shit my pants with the force of the cheeks. Even the uptight girls were laughing at this fart that's how legendary it was. The teacher literally grabs my ear and yanks me all the way to the principles office.
Principle opens the file and see's 5 instances of classroom disruption due to farting. Suspended for a week, and never had to give the stupid to kill a mockingbird presentation.

Hope you enjoyed the stories. It will make you thinkg what you're going to eat for Christmas.
I hope this will cheer you up! (or not!)

Greetings,
Still-alive-and-kicking-Bl4ck

Ps. Read more if you like:
http://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/2 ... dismissed/