My name is Ryan. I’m a cisgender, straight male, and I’ve had a fart fetish (also known as eproctophilia) ever since early childhood.

My earliest memory of realizing I liked farts more than the average person goes back to 2005, when I was seven. I was watching the animated movie Robots — a classic kids’ film starring Robin Williams, Mel Brooks, and Ewan McGregor. The moment that changed my life was a scene where Jennifer Coolidge’s character, Aunt Fanny (who had a comically large butt), let out a long, loud, bassy fart that was so strong, it “killed” an anthropomorphic streetlight with the smell.

The mix of absurd humor, intensity, and the idea of a woman doing something so “unladylike” unlocked something deep in me.

At that age, I wasn’t yet aware of sex or adult material, but I was aware that my feelings weren’t typical. I felt intense attraction — not sexual yet, but powerful. And I knew I couldn’t tell anyone. For more than a decade, I kept my fetish a secret, buried in shame and fear. Even though I had lots of friends, I felt I could never fully be myself around anyone.

I worried no one could ever love someone with such a “weird” and “gross” desire. That isolation led to depression and anxiety.

Eventually, in my teenage years, I discovered fart porn — and it felt like a lifeline. I fantasized about what it would be like to smell the farts in those scenes. To this day, I’d say 99% of the porn I’ve watched has been fart-related. And strangely, I think it’s helped keep me grounded in my desires, rather than detached from real intimacy.

I had my favorites — creators like Kinky Kristi (the Princess of Farts), Chasity, and Little Miss Toots. I’m also glad to see the fetish becoming a little more mainstream now, with OnlyFans models and TikTok creators embracing it openly.

In early adulthood, I started dating more seriously and eventually entered a relationship with someone truly beautiful, inside and out. Her name was Isabel. For the first time, I felt like I could trust someone enough to reveal this part of myself.

When I finally told her about my fetish, I was nervous as hell. But she was open-minded, and over time, she got more comfortable farting around me. That trust meant the world.

We eventually broke up for unrelated reasons, but that experience gave me the courage to be more open in future relationships. I’ve since explored this fetish with other partners, and even dated a few women who share the same kink.

I don’t tell everyone, of course. But I’m no longer ashamed.

This fetish, as strange as it might seem to others, has led me to grow as a person — through struggle, exploration, and connection. I know many others out there still feel trapped by shame, secrecy, or self-loathing. That’s why I want to write more posts to help guide those who feel stuck in the spiral I once lived through.

My goal is to build a more inclusive, informed, and understanding community — for people with this kink, and for those who want to understand it.

I want to hear your stories, too. You never know — your story might be the one that inspires someone else to finally feel seen.

After all…
You can be both a smart fella and a fart smella.