Examining the thongs further, you noticed that they came in all colors and shapes, although their sizes seemed to all be the same, which were weirdly small compared to the juicy rears you've seen waddle through those doors. Imagining yourself being shoved into the very depths of their unwashed buttcracks and smack face-first into their slimy shart-factories. With your sole purpose in life from there on would be the futile attempts to contain their booty belches. Before being returned and just as quickly being snatched up by the next consumer.
Not a single thong still possessed their original color. Different sizes of brown splotches had been firmly engrained into the very depths of the fabric, as some of them even had chunks of dried excrement lodged inside.
Suddenly, you heard a car park outside as you realized your boss was about to enter the building. Having no real time to properly decide, in panic, you grabbed onto the hanging rack and transformed yourself into an identical looking thong.
You laid there motionless as your boss clomped her way into the building, her massive rear swaying and wobbling with each step as she flipped the sign to say "OPEN" before she'd proceed into the kitchen. Maybe it was the anticipation or your impatience, but time seemed to flow by before the doors flung open and the marching sound of women stomped their way inside.
It didn't take long until you felt a pair of hands ruthlessly rip you from the rack as you heard a familiar voice. "Ugh, my asshole is so going to explode." She laughed as she shook you in her fist. "Are you ready to be absolutely destroyed, and drenched in my scent?" You finally recognized that voice...
Your Crush.
Naomi, an athletic, phat assed african-american girl from your class, who you know for a fact can't handle spicy food, considering your seat is drectly behind hers.
Your Bully.
Another huge assed girl from your class, Yasmine, a hispanic girl who absolutely loves to bully and torture you, who frequently talks shit about you. Her persuasive shit-talking actually managed to manipulate your ex-girlfriend to break up with you, while also leaving you with minimal friends.
Your Mother.
Your mom never eats anything spicy at home, because she couldn't stand the thought of you having to endure her infamous booty belches. Diners like this are the only place she could truly endulge in her favorite past time. Where she knows you're nowhere near of.
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