Dressed in pink, feet glistening as I rub oil between my toes… and you’re already weak. But that’s not the real show. Because as I lean forward on the toilet, my fat ass lets out slow, bubbling farts — each one wetter than the last. The smell? Ripe. Humid. Trapped in my outfit and leaking into the room while you focus helplessly on the slick shimmer of my feet. I smell like filth. I look like heaven. And I know exactly how to break you with both.
