The Whoopie Cushion Roommate (WIP Preview)

   Tasha felt as if she was a thief getting ready to pilfer a priceless piece of art, despite the fact she was just sneaking around her own apartment. She definitely looked the part, a baggie hoodie obscuring her long, bright red hair and her pair of slippers softening her footsteps. What wasn’t helping her stealth attempt was the cardboard box clutched between her pale arms. Nearly tripping over a stray empty bottle, she managed to catch herself from tumbling to the ground. Stopping to adjust her glasses and wipe the sweat from her freckled face, she stared down the door at the end of the hall.

   Carefully creeping open the door, Tasha tiptoed her way around numerous piles of dirty clothing and emptied out bottles of booze. Setting her box down in one of the few open spaces of floor, she crept towards the bed. Peeking across the mattress let her see her roommate, Daphne sound asleep. The party girl was still dressed in her preferred clubbing attire of a black tank top and jean short shorts that helped to show off her tanned skin and lithe body. Tasha twitched as she watched the slumbering party girl turn in her sleep, fraying her neck-length black hair. Hearing the soft breaths of sleep escape her still painted lips, Tasha began to have second thoughts on her plan. That is, until she heard a very rude noise escape Daphne’s backside.

Tasha grimaced at the small fart, recognizing it as one of the many “gifts” Daphne bestowed upon her. When Daphne wasn’t out partying, she would fill her time tormenting Tasha with various pranks that mostly revolved around gassing her. Everything from farting in her face when she fell asleep on the couch to adding some extra spice to her meals when she wasn’t looking were fair game for her pranks. Hearing another abrupt puff of air escape Daphne’s backside helped to fortify Tasha’s resolve in doing what must be done.

   Sifting through the cardboard box with one eye trained on Daphne, Tasha pulled out the first part of her plan. It was a long plastic tube with one end affixed with a series of straps. As she held the apparatus between her hands, she once again cursed herself for ordering the extra-large length by accident. Then again, when she first bought the tube from a feeder fetish site, it was difficult to guess what accounted for a regular size. At the very least, she was satisfied that the latches around the other end would be more than sufficient at keeping the business end of the tube securely inside of Daphne’s mouth.

   Neatly hanging the hose off the side of the bed, Tasha brought her attention to the second, most important part of her prank. The bottle was the size of her palm, its clear casing showing off a fizzy, brown liquid inside. Holding the bottle up to her face, Tasha read over the phrase “Giant-Sized Gas Guzzle” in bright green letters behind a drawn on fart cloud. Turning the container back and forth between her palms, she recalled the strange man that had sold it to her from a bizarre that seemed to have latched onto her dire need for payback.