This choice: Her daughters aren't quite intimidated... yet.... • Go Back...Chapter #5There's, Um, Going To Be, Um, Some Changes, Okay? by: TheNewJaxson   Connie paced nervously around the house. She had hidden the Gasonim from Heather in her room, taking great pains to hide it somewhere her tyrannical daughter would never think to look. She was still nervous though. She had just changed herself fundamentally and if it didn’t work, her daughter would now be able to harass her for her newfound flatulence as well.
Connie’s thoughts returned to Heather. She thought about how her daughters cringed at their mother’s voice, how directions were followed without question, and how disobedience was stopped with a powerful and thundering fart that made all who heard and smelled it cringe in terror. Connie wanted that, no she needed that for herself. “Hee,” she snickered. “I’m trying to win my self respect back through farts!”
Connie knew she had to practice; she had to practice using the farts fro intimidation. She thought of the indignities heaped on her by her twin daughters, girls she gave birth to, and cared for. The hurt and anger bubbled up inside of her and she pushed it down. Down into her belly and out through her slowly growing ass. The fart rumbled out of her like row rumbling thunder over a plain. It was loud and it smelled.
And did it smell. It smelled of rage, and anger, and a need for change, but most people would say it smelled like a fully loaded garbage truck in the Nevada dessert at noon on the first day of summer. The smell travelled through out the house and seeped into the walls. Connie’s nose twitched form the smell. It smelled like freedom to her. “A few more lie that, and I’ll be ready,” she thought.
It was a few hours later when her bratty daughter burst in the front door making demands of their mother already. “MOM! Where’s my new clothes?” Penelope bellowed, without even so much as a hello.
“Yeah! Did you do my laundry you lazy bitch?” Victoria yelled, showing even less respect for her mother than her sister.
“Those are your chores and responsibilities,” A nervous Connie began emerging from the kitchen. “You do them,” she told them in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.
“What was that fat ass?” Penelope laughed. “Look Victoria! Her ass has gotten a bit bigger! What a slob!”
“I know! Do you smell this place? I bet that fat bitch Heather was here again! Did you have your fart gassy friend over? Did she stink up our house?” Victoria asked Connie pointedly in an attempt to mock her.
“No. The smell is form me,” Connie said unable to look her daughters in the face.
“Eww!” They both said before laughing. Victoria threw her sweater at Connie and told her, “Make sure you wash this with my other clothes. Now go do it.”
“No. You do it,” Connie told her summoning her courage for what was to happen next.
“Shut up!” Penelope said mockingly. “Are you trying to stand up to us? Get out of here and go do a you’re told!” She laughed, her sister quickly joining in.
“No!” Connie yelled making her daughters shut up with shock. “You do it!”
“What?” Penelope asked completely flabbergasted at her mother’s courage.
“I said you do it! Do you understand me?” Connie demanded with no response. “I said. Do. You. UNDERSTAND. Me?” Connie yelled punctuating it with a fart that was born of her hurt, an their abuse. It was filled with her need to intimidate, and was composed of everything she had pushed down into her soul, and it exploded forth out of her ass with dramatic effect. Her cheeks flapped and the back of her loose dress flapped from her powerful and humid wind. It felt as if the room, no, the whole house was shaking with the fury and anger of her fart. “Well do you?” Connie asked asserting herself with a confidence she hadn’t shown in years. She prayed it wasn’t as fleeting as it felt, and that her daughters didn’t see through it.
Her daughters looked at her with wide eyes, scared of the power of the gas that Connie had just displayed. They weren’t eager for more, but they weren’t ready to give up their control of the house. Their eyes narrowed, both silently understanding that they were about to go to war, and that they could afford the loss of this battle. “All right,” Victoria began. “We’ll handle it.”
“For today,” Penelope finished.
“Yes you will,” Connie told them trying to act tough. “Or I’ll fart again!” she told them, while letting another stinker fly for emphasis. Except it wasn’t anywhere near as strong as the first, and sounded more like a whimper than a wail. Her daughters looked at her with evil smiles on their face. Clued in that their mother still had weaknesses. “Uh-oh!” Connie gulped with another pathetic ass belch.
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