A brown tauren speckled with white pushes the tent flap open and approaches you. She's dressed in some tribal garb, from a decorative kilt to a plain vest.
"You ready for some fun tonight?", she softly questions.
If fun meant sitting on a dirt covered floor with your hands tied behind your back, you were more than ready. But there was no telling what this Tauren might be refering to as fun.
"My friends and I just got finished dinner; beer-basted boar ribs, and a helping of bean soup. You ever try it?"
You've had the ribs she's talking about a number of times, and you nod. She smiles and begins to undo your gag.
"So you know how delicious they are... and I feel kinda bad for you --- so I'll make you a deal. Close your eyes and open your mouth, and I'll give you the most saucy, juicy, succulent piece that I was saving for later."
The horde forgot to feed you today, and the taurengirl's words are hitting rather high notes with your stomach, and you immediately comply. She giggles at your sudden reaction.
"Alright...I hope you're ready. You'll really want to savor the flavor. Here it comes!"
You hear a faint hiss which quickly distorts into a disgusting trumpet as a hot, moist cloud of gas hits you straight in the face, and thanks to the Tauren's trickery, right in your mouth. You take a small whiff, and your senses are flooded instantaneously with the stench of her flatulence; you unwittingly breathe in her eggy perfume and gag, and as you open your eyes the fumes from the blast make you squint and tear up. While you're coughing and trying to spit the fart's taste out of your mouth, she's laughing maniacally at your plight. You'd be cursing up a storm if you weren't already repulsed the point of nausea. "Mmmm, delicious, right?", she giggles, "There's nothing like some good old homecooking." The stink continues to linger around you in a foul haze, and you struggle to form words for her. "You...bitch," you sputter out, each word refreshing the taste of her gas.
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