(WARNING: This story contains M/F farts, burps, and the abuse of a pepperoni pizza.)
 
 
“Okay… Candles-” Peter Parker lit one of the many different candles strewn about the apartment. “...check. Snacks-” he poured a bag of Chex-Mix into a bowl. “...check. Movie-” he looked at the DVD in his hands. “...check. Pizza-” He looked around the room. Everything else on the list was there and accounted for, except for the pizza. “...n-no. No check.” Peter sighed, taking a seat on the couch, staring at his watch, staring at his phone, staring at the clock on the wall, and staring at his phone again. It had been well over thirty minutes since he ordered, but there was no sign of it coming anytime soon.
 
 
  Much as he hated to admit it, he was panicking. Peter had been planning this night for weeks now, and he needed things to go smoothly. This was his shot at impressing MJ. Food, candles, and a nice movie: everything to make the perfect date night. But two teenagers couldn’t subsist on just mixed snacks for two hours and four minutes. He had to keep her satisfied if he wanted her to stay with him. As far as he knew, this was the best way to go about it.
 
 
  “Okay, okay… The pizza isn’t here yet, but it’s coming. It’s definitely coming. I paid with Aunt May’s credit card so it has to be coming.” He was pacing back and forth, the flames of the candles swaying from the breeze he left in his wake. “It’s just a little bit late is all. It’s New York. Everybody’s driving. He’s just running late…” For a moment, everything seemed fine. “...Late with the pizza, which means it’s going to be cold, which means MJ won’t like me anymore…”
 
 
  “Stay calm, relax, it’s not going to be cold. You can throw it in the oven. But then it’ll burn. And you can’t microwave it because that ruins the flavor. You can’t order another one because Aunt May said not to spend too much of her money. Alright, Peter, relax, Peter. You’re just being neurotic. You don’t have to worry too much. Everything is fine!” He looked down, or rather up, to see that he was walking on the ceiling. “Alright… I think it’s time to relax for a second…”
 
 
  Peter hopped down and sat on the couch again. Things were not looking good. What he planned was for her to arrive at the house, and see the plethora of candles, the prepared snacks, and the fresh-out-of-the-oven pizza. He wanted to greet her with a surprise, a big gesture of affection and caring. Cold pizza was more suited for a funeral than it was for a casual date, and he wasn’t going to let this die before he got a shot at something serious with her. If he could just sit still and relax than maybe everything would work itself out and they would be fine.
 
 
  Another pang of pain ran through Peter Parker’s body. He was never a confident person, especially around women, so this whole situation had left his stomach uneasy. The stress filled him with anxiety, and the anxiety filled him with gas. He had been like this forever. Every decathlon event ended with him discreetly leaving a nuclear bomb in the venue’s toilets. Sneaking off to do work as Spider-Man wasn’t that difficult since he was expected to spend his time in the bathroom.
 
 
  But in a situation like this, excess gas was a big issue. He would be devastated if he accidentally farted in front of MJ. She wasn’t exactly shallow, but doing something so uncouth on their first date would make anybody have second thoughts. He had to let it all out safely beforehand, but waiting for the pizza wasn’t doing anything to calm his nerves. His anxiety about farting, ironically, just made him feel more anxious, which made him feel gassier. It was a foul-smelling ultimatum that he would have to endure in the name of true love.
 
 
  “Just a few little ones… I don’t want MJ to smell this when she gets here…” The smallest confirmation was enough for the gas to start firing. A loud, smoldering blast leaked out of his bottom. He was surprised their potted plants didn’t wilt from that one alone. “Oh god… That was horrible! I have to do something…” Suddenly, he remembered his Spidey-powers. “What if I just webbed my cheeks together so that nothing would come out! Wait, that would just make me bloated… No, I can’t. I have to hold it in. Oh god, MJ is going to dump me…”
 
 
  Another ripper came pouring out, this one reminding him of the chili they served at school lunch. Even at the time, he was having second thoughts about eating it. Alternate universes were a ridiculous idea that he would never give a second thought to, but it pained him to know that an alternate Peter was probably happy and gas-free right now. He let out another misty toot as he adjusted his position on the leftmost part of the couch. He made a mental note to sit there when MJ happened to arrive. God forbid she got a scent of the lingering smell. Most of his candles, unfortunately, were stark white and lacked a fragrance of any kind.
 
 
  This was it. MJ said she would be there by 6:00, and it was 5:55. He was in the Endgame now. Unless the pizza man was walking up the stairs and heading for his room at that exact moment, there was no way he would arrive in time. Peter could still salvage the date, hopefully, but it would be a lot less romantic if she was there to witness the transaction. The young man fondled the dollar bills in his hand as he waited in vain. It was crazy. He could face off against a whole legion of superheroes, but he couldn’t handle a date with his high school sweetheart.
 
 
  Peter was shaken by a knock at the door, the fear causing another fart to slip. A long, airy blast came rushing out of his anus. The force made his stomach lurch, sending more pain through his bowels. Holding all of this back was really starting to sting, even for a person as durable as him. The knocking continued. Peter waved the leftover stink away, rushing to the door to let MJ inside. “Hey Michelle, I’m sorry about th-”
 
 
  To his surprise, it was not the woman of his dreams, rather a greasy-looking man in his mid 20’s wearing a silly hat with a pizza slice on it. By the blank look on his bearded face, it was clear he wasn’t happy about his place in life. “Pepperoni pizza. Parker place.” He held out his hand for the tip money.
 
 
  “O-oh, oh yeah. Umm, sorry. Sorry about the...Michelle thing…” The pizza man had no reply. “H-here you go, that’s for you…” Peter put three dollars in his hand, slowly taking the pizza and walking it over to the couch.”
 
 
  “Hey, hey!” The man said, motioning for Peter to come back, a look of disdain on his face.
 
 
  “O-oh, what’s wrong? I-I don’t have any more cash for-” The man simply showed off a pen and a tiny slip of paper. “Oh, right, s-signing. Thank you.” He grabbed the pen and paper and scribbled ‘Aunt May’ down, not really noticing his silly little mistake. The pizza man looked up at him and then down at the name. He let out a sigh before taking his pen back and walking away. “Right, thank you… Have a nice day!” Called Peter, his voice echoing through the halls.
 
 
  He shut the door, pressed his ass against it, and let out an enormous fart that rippled against the hardwood. “God, Peter, get ahold of yourself… Ugh, where’s Karen when you need her…?” He sighed, sliding down the door until he was sitting with his knees on his chest. As late as the pizza man was, Peter was happy he came at all. His stress levels had gone down a bit, thankfully.
 
 
  Suddenly, he remembered one of the issues with the delivery time. “Oh no, it’s cold now, isn’t it…?” He popped the box open to see how the pizza was. To his surprise, it was nearly perfect! The pepperoni was lined up in a perfect spiral, the cheese had not shifted or fallen off, and the grease hadn’t eaten through the box and splattered all over the floor. And, best of all, the pizza was piping hot. It was better than he had hoped!
 
 
  Peter let out a contented and victorious sigh. Everything was perfect. All of that worrying and pent-up smelly stress was dashed. He had nothing to worry about any longer. Peter turned around and let out a sigh of relief, followed by one of the rankest farts of the night. A powerful gust of wind blew out of his ass. The force was so great that it made his pucker sting, but that didn’t stop how good it felt to let out. He could just wave it away before MJ came to make sure she didn’t smell it.
 
 
  For that brief moment, it seemed like Peter could finally relax and enjoy the night, but he suddenly realized something dire. That fart didn’t just innocently waft in the air for him to easily blow away; It went directly onto the pizza! After waiting for nearly an hour, stressing out over the pizza being subpar or unsavory, he had ruined the very thing he was trying so hard to save! In a panic, he shot the box, not realizing that the smell was being trapped inside.
 
 
  “Oh shit! Oh god, oh my god, what do I do?! I can’t let MJ eat something like this! Oh god, I’m going to make her sick. This is bad, this is really bad… Okay Peter, think. You’re Spider-Man. What would Spider-Man do?” He stood still for a moment. “...He would freak out and have a panic attack. This is not good. I-I-I have to do something. I have to call it off, I can’t just-”
 
 
  Ding dong! Whoever it was had decided to ring the doorbell. Peter ran through a list of everyone who could possibly be coming to his house at 6:00. Maybe it was Ned coming over to assemble a LEGO Starkiller Base or something. It could have been Aunt May coming back, having decided she should supervise their little dinner date. The pizza man might have made a mistake and needed to recall the now fart-coated pizza.
 
 
  Another ding dong preceded some light knocking. Sitting around and trying to think of something was not an option. No matter who or what it was, he couldn’t just leave them waiting. Peter slowly tiptoed to the door, opening it just a crack. Nobody. The hall was empty. He opened it up all the way. Nothing. It was like a ghost had come by and decided to mess with him. The cruel prank of a phantom. Peter was about to go back inside and continue his plotting when lo and behold, MJ stepped in.
 
 
  Panic mode had activated. “M-Michelle! I mean, uh, I mean MJ! I mean… hi.” ‘Good work, Peter,’ he thought. ‘Play it cool. You’re playing it cool. You’re crashing and burning and you’re a complete failure.’ “H-hey.”
 
 
  “Hey, Parker.” She said with a smirk, letting herself inside. MJ looked around the apartment to see the assortment of scentless candles. There was little consistency with design, and some of them had clearly either been used many times before or had never been used at all. “I like the candles. Smells nice.”
 
 
  “Yeah yeah, uhh, thanks…” He tried his hardest to not visibly shake from the anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest and his forehead was starting to sweat. The gas was only getting worse as his stress increased. Pain shot through him as he clenched his anus and held back what he could. If things got too bad, he would run to the bathroom and try and let it all out quietly enough for her to not hear. But he could only do that if MJ went in first, so he wouldn’t hotbox her by accident.
 
 
  “You really went all out with this, Parker.” She said, taking a seat on the leftmost couch cushion, the same one that Peter had been stinking up before. He felt like he was going to throw up just watching all of this. “Is that pizza for us or did you forget to throw the box out?” She chuckled, reaching over to open it up and help herself to a slice.
 
 
  Peter had to stop her, but he didn’t have the time to come up with an idea. “D-don’t eat that!” He yelled. ‘Okay, Peter. Improvise. Think of something… Think of something… Think of something!’ MJ froze, staring at the closed box and then back at him. He had paused after his outburst but didn’t say or do anything. She slowly went to open it up again. “Y-you don’t want to eat that, Michelle. Y-you’re a vegetarian, right? I completely forgot when I ordered it s-so you should probably just let me put it away…”
 
 
  MJ looked at him with a smirk, her hands on the edge of the box. “So, because I protest capitalism, that makes me a vegetarian?”
 
 
  Peter was surprised that he hadn’t stroked out right then and there. “Oh god, no, I-I-I didn’t mean to stereotype you, I was just worried and-”
 
 
  “Peter, I’m joking. I understand why you thought that and I appreciate the concern. But this is New York. Pizza is half my diet.” She had almost opened the box enough to let the gas out, but Peter had stopped her again.
 
 
  “I ordered that a long time ago. It-it’s probably cold by now. M-maybe we should just go out and get some dinner. Do you like Thai?” He forced himself to chuckle in an unsuccessful attempt to seem relaxed.
 
 
  “I can see the steam coming off of it. It’s fine. It’s not like I’m counting calories or anything.”
 
 
  Peter had thought of a decent enough contingency plan; A last-ditch effort in case everything went too far south. If MJ tried to open it up again, he would just seal it shut with webs and explain that he was Spider-Man. She had teased the idea once or twice before, so it probably wouldn’t be too difficult to convince her. Having his secret identity slip through the cracks again wasn’t exactly optimal, but it was better than having her hate him for the rest of his life. Until then, he would just stall and try to think of something better.
 
 
  “Mmm… this tastes even better than usual. I think they changed up their cheese or something.” MJ took another bite of her slice, licking up the excess sauce on her face. In his stress-induced daze, Peter hadn’t even noticed that she had opened up the box and helped herself to a slice. It was over. MJ was eating the fart pizza. Peter had officially ruined the one and only relationship that he thought could become serious. MJ would wise up and notice something was wrong, realize the pizza tasted like shit, and dump him for being a disgusting pig.
 
 
  By the grace of God, she either hadn’t noticed or was too afraid to say anything. Peter felt a tinge of safety, but he still had to quell the raging beast inside. Even if she wasn’t aware now if he let even a tiny one slip she would recognize the smell and the jig would be up. With slow and careful precision he closed the box and moved it out of her reach, making sure not to lean too much in any direction.
 
 
  “S-so, I bought us a movie. I thought maybe we could watch it. Unless you want to do something else. Uhh, that wasn’t meant as a sexual thing! W-we could play a board game or-”
 
 
  “You went out and bought a movie, huh? Most people would probably just use Netflix. That’s not something you see so much these days.”
 
 
  Peter had somehow completely glazed over that fact. “I like to support small businesses…” Carefully, he got to his knees and picked up the DVD. “It’s called Pleasantville. I think Tobey Maguire is in it…” He couldn’t stop flipping the DVD case over in his hands. It was the only thing taking his mind off of the nuclear bomb he had stored inside him. “I was thinking we could try it out…”
 
 
  “Sounds good,” MJ replied. For whatever reason, she grabbed the movie and put it in the DVD player for him. He wasn’t going to stop her, though. Peter was glad he didn’t have to move. If they could just sit back and relax for the rest of their date then everything was likely to go smoothly.
 
 
  Peter and MJ had been dating for only a few weeks. They had only kissed once. Physical contact was a boundary that they still had some struggles with. Mostly on the side of Peter. He felt awkward whenever they would touch. Naturally, MJ exploited this as much as possible. She was always hugging him and holding him close. It felt good to be in her arms, but being caressed so much was embarrassing. Especially in public.
 
 
  Now, Michelle was stroking up and down his arm, resting her head on his shoulder. Peter’s cheeks flared up with a light pink tone. Her skin was always so soft and warm. The smell of her perfume rose into the air, tickling his nose. Peter questioned how he got with someone so gorgeous. Regardless of the poor state of his stomach, he still felt happy just being around her. But all of this bliss came with a price: it only made his stomach worse.
 
 
  MJ had focused her attention on the movie. It had been nearly an hour since they started cuddling, and Peter’s stomach hadn’t gotten any better. His face was bright red, both due to his nerves and due to the strain of holding back the explosions. Frankly, he had no idea what was happening. He was focusing most of his attention on making sure his stomach was okay and checking if MJ could smell anything. The whole thing was practically halfway over.
 
 
  For the first time, he was starting to feel a little confident. He got this far already. The rest would hopefully be a piece of cake. Once the movie was over, he could just send MJ home. He was a bit afraid that she would be offended, but it was better to do that than risk him ‘unloading’ right in front of her. The thought of being alone eased his mind somewhat, though he was still making sure to keep his stomach in check. He actually smiled a bit, knowing that everything was going to be okay.
 
 
  And then MJ slapped him directly on the stomach.
 
 
  Immediately, gas burst out of his anus. An enormous, foul cloud rocketed out of him, covering the entire couch in his stench. The force was so great that it burned slightly upon exiting. The sound only grew louder and louder as more of it was forced out. The bean burritos from lunchtime, the cheesy egg omelet he had that morning, and even last night’s meatloaf made a disgusting return as he bathed his girlfriend in gas.
 
 
  The gas persisted for nearly an entire minute, but to Peter, it felt like an eternity. It gave him an ample amount of time to regret everything he had ever done. If he could just fade away like dust, he would. It wasn’t even relieving to let out. Everything he had spent that night working for was dashed, all because of one tiny little slap. Finally, after so long of letting it rip, the once cacophonous fart petered out into a wimpy ‘prrt.’
 
 
“OH GOD, MICHELLE, I’M SO SO-” Before he could fully reply, the gas shifted from his bottom to his top. His mouth hung open as he started to burp violently. It sounded like he was seconds away from vomiting, but his body was filled with nothing but pure methane gas. He covered his mouth with his hands, but it only caused the gas to build in his mouth, puffing up his cheeks until he was sure they would burst. He had to let go and let the rest out, a disgusting and wet belch filling the air with even more of his disgusting odor.
 
 
His face was bright red. His eyes were watering. His anus was clenched like it was caught in a vice grip. Peter was kneeling on the ground, his body shaking from the force. His stomach kept gurgling and groaning. That wasn’t even close to all of what he had in store. But it was just enough to disgust MJ forever. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized just how screwed he was. In an instant, his life had been ruined. Peter felt like he was about to start sobbing.
 
 
Michelle was sitting right next to him at the beginning of the fart. As it kept going, Peter had doubled over, his ass hanging in the air. The rest of the blast flowed directly towards her face, wafting into her nose and her agape mouth. When he turned to apologize, he incidentally burped directly into her face. She got the full brunt of his gas, all of it being absorbed by her olfactory system.
 
 
  The smell was worse than anything she had ever experienced before. New York wasn’t exactly known for its glamor, at least not so much anymore. The streets carried the scent of homeless peoples’ waste, and trash was left to burn in the hot sun for hours. The harbors were overrun with fishermen pulling in their fetid hauls. If there was one word to describe New York (other than ‘crowded’ or ‘expensive’), it was smelly.
 
 
  But this, this was on a whole nother level. MJ could assume that this was what a third world country smelled like. The gas filled her head, making her feel dizzy and sluggish. Her vision was getting clouded. If Peter had continued, he would have farted her into unconsciousness. She coughed aggressively, puffs of gas coming out of her mouth. It was so rancid and vile. She was surprised she hadn’t vomited already. But this was exactly why she loved it.
 
 
  “MICHELLE, MICHELLE I’M SO SORRY! I DIDN’T MEAN TO DO THAT TO YOU! I-I-I’VE BEEN HOLDING IT IN ALL NIGHT AND I THOUGHT I COULD KEEP IT INSIDE BUT…” He had to pause to wipe away his tears and catch his breath. “I-I-I’m so sorry… please… don’t hate me.”
 
 
  MJ waved the remains of the fart away from her face. As much as she wanted to keep taking it all in, she needed a few seconds of clarity to extol him. “Peter, Peter, calm down…” She hacked up more, her breath stinking like feces. “Holy shit, that was a lot more than I expected!”
 
 
  More than she expected? Peter’s head was swimming, though that may have been from all the fumes in the air. “Wait… did you…?”
 
 
  “Peter, I could smell your gas walking in. It really wasn’t that hard to tell you were backed up! I could smell it on the door and on the couch and even on the pizza. Did you really think you were that slick?”
 
 
  Peter wasn’t even aware he was busted the whole time. He thought he could keep it a secret, but it turns out all of that effort was wasted. “O-oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t w-want to ruin our date so I… I tried to just hide it and hope you wouldn’t notice… If you’re disgusted with me than you can go…”
 
 
  “Believe me, Peter, I am disgusted.” She smirked. “But that doesn’t mean I hate it. Not sure why, but I’ve always liked the smells like that. I’ll be honest, whenever we go to the decathlons, I always take a little secret trip to the men’s room so I could get a whiff of what you left…” Her cheeks were red, but she kept a smile on her face.
 
 
  “R-really? So, you don’t mind that I-”
 
 
  “Peter, listen to me: I love you for you. Not for what other people say you are, not for what you try to be, but for who you are inside. What I fell in love with was your honest and compassionate nature. Hiding your farts from me is something I’d consider dishonest. So I don’t mind if you have to let out a little wind. In fact…” She got to her knees, turning the young man around. “I can see you’ve got a little more!”
 
 
  Peter felt her hands push down on his stomach. He was still apprehensive about doing something like this, but the force of his gas outweighed the clenching of his anus. He let loose another fart, this time directly up MJ’s nose. It smelled like she had dove into a dumpster. The scents of everything Peter ate that day mixed with the naturally-occurring stress gas to form a vile concoction of smell and force.
 
 
  Her hair was blown back like she was facing down a hair dryer. What little makeup she wore was nearly melted off. It was a thoroughly disgusting act, but both of them were feeling nothing but ecstasy. Peter’s face was bright red, and his tongue was starting to poke out of his mouth. MJ’s eyes rolled back into her head as she sniffed up as much of the gas as possible. She felt his ass cheeks rumble against the cheeks on her face, as she pushed her head deeper in.
 
 
  “Are you okay back there?” Peter tried to ask, his voice clouded by his violent farting. Judging by MJ’s nose poking in even further and her hands squeezing his jean-clad cheeks, she was probably enjoying it. He put a hand on her head to make sure she stayed in place, pausing for a moment so he could get another burst ready.
 
 
  Peter may have pushed things a bit too far. His next blow carried a much bubblier sound with it. His cheeks vibrated like a malfunctioning washing machine. He was afraid he would mess his pants if he wasn’t a bit more careful. But regardless, MJ relished in the shitty smell of his wet farts. Her patience was rewarded. If she coaxed him into farting right away, they wouldn’t have been able to fester so long.
 
 
  Coincidentally, the rancid stream of farting ended right as soon as Pleasantville’s credits began to roll. MJ stood and hugged Peter, as Across the Universe played softly in the background. As ridiculous as it was to say, he had to admit that this was the most romantic moment he had ever experienced. And to top it all off, MJ pulled him close and kissed him. The shock caused his last gas bubble to burst, causing him to let out a cheesy burp in her mouth, but naturally, she didn’t mind.
 
 
  “M-Michelle… That was… that was the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced…”
 
 
  “I could say the same thing.” She smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “I wish that this night could last forever… But it’s coming up on your curfew. I know Aunt May would be upset if she caught me here too late.” She grabbed her purse and the box of pizza, which neither had touched since the beginning of the night. She opened it up and took a sniff, finding the odor fairly tame in comparison.
 
 
  “Do… do you want me to…?” MJ didn’t say anything and just showed him the box. Peter blushed as if the last hour hadn’t even happened. He turned around, squatting over the open box and trying to force out another blow. It came out with a grotesque sounding ‘blort,’ coating the pizza in his vile gas. MJ shut the box as soon as possible to keep it trapped in for the ride home.
 
 
  “Goodnight, Peter.”
 
 
  “Goodnight, MJ.”
 
 
  He saw her off, opening the door and watching her walk down the halls. He felt so grateful that things turned out this way. He thanked Thor that she didn’t up and leave as soon as she walked in. Peter shut the door to the apartment and sat back on the couch, watching the last few seconds of credits before the laser burned the DVD beyond repair. After a few minutes wondering what to do with his life now, he heard the sounds keys jingling and unlocking the door.
 
 
  “Peter, I’m home! I brought you some Thai-...” Aunt May took a deep sniff. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”