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"I hope they stocked extra stuff for that taco buffet," Mia commented to me while rubbing her washboard tummy, when at last she grew bored with the pitiful resistances of all the strangers she could dominate using the lightest puff of molten breakfast and stomach juices. "Last time they ran out of jalapenos and hot sauce when I was barely half full, plus the meat was super-dry, and I'm sorry, but that is just unacceptable..."

The workers must've learned from their mistake the previous visit - and they would've had to be brainless to repeat the same grievances, considering Mia showed her dissatisfaction as a customer then by vaulting over the counter, grabbing the employees by their hair, and pressing them both headfirst against her bum, one face per cheek, until the gas burgeoned out like salsa-flavored anal ammonia.

When we arrived in the food court, my sister was giddy at the sight of the taco buffet piled high with extras of every ingredient, including the spicier goodies that gave her stink-haloed asshole a particularly fiery reek, and a glistening liquid layer of cooked-in grease on the ground beef that was sure to enrich the goings-on of my giant sister's guts into the smelly stratosphere. Part of me had hoped the workers might be courageous and empty the platters before fleeing from the mall, but of course I knew this would only delay the inevitable. If Mia intended to enjoy an all-she-could-eat smorgasbord of tacos for lunch today, she was going to have it.

Naturally, my sibling being who she was, I couldn't just slink into the distance of the rounded dining hall and wait for her to serve her own unending appetite. She took a seat in the center of the large room, where everyone could see her, and snapped her fingers at me like a butler to go fetch round one of the taco onslaught. Frankly, I was probably lucky to have Mia regard me more as a servant, since that at least meant she saw me as a living creature, as opposed to the times she seemed to view me more as an animate object, like a sweat rag or a special Hal-shaped sponge meant exclusively to absorb her meat-drenched farts. Foolish shoppers still lingered in the food court, examining their purchases and eating meals from the other restaurants, since the taco bar was marked "CLOSED" in preparation for its singularly ravenous MVP customer.

Shaking with every step, and already smelling the first hints of her fumes that had leaked all the way from the clothing store, I approached the taco stand, grabbed two plates, and began stuffing taco shells with sustenance. Mostly beef was used, since I knew the fatty protein was my growing amazon of a sister's priority, but I ensured to use plenty of hot sauce, jalapenos, and cheese too: the anus-scorching sputter and the decaying dairy funk, respectively, which would so horrendously complement the bloated cow-flesh gristle of the main course.

While putting as many tacos as possible on each dish, I exchanged a silent thousand-yard gaze with the workers behind the counter, probably in the same way as soldiers preparing to run across no man's land together into gunfire. When I could fit no more, and I heard Mia clapping impatiently from across the court, I hurried back, but not so fast that I spilled a single precious taco; any such wastefulness would probably result in my sister having me lick the pieces up off the ground while she performed a deep teabagging-squat above my head and flavored my floor-tainted snack with her own gutsy ass pollution. I was sweating already, and she hadn't even begun to super-heat the air in here and turn it poisonously putrid with her excrement-laden wafts, but still I set the tacos down in front of the queen of the food court.

"Thaaaanks, Hal! You're such a considerate brother," she swooned, as though I hadn't done this under direct orders, at the risk of having my head used as a gas-sopping seat cushion for the whole lunch if I stupidly refused. The first taco was already halfway to her lips, but she paused to beckon me closer. Snatching me by the shirt, she drew my ear near enough to her mouth so that her whispered message was mine alone, in between crunchy oil-dribbling bites of taco: "See that red lever over by the big door, shortstuff? Behind the glass? That's the lockdown thingy they use to close everything up in here, so nobody breaks in at night. Go pull it, then pull the whole handle off, and come back to me. Don't talk to anybody."

Startled, and feeling my heartbeat dangerously hasten even before I'd smelled the first diabolical rectum-juice whiff pushed out of her hole by the volume of fresh taco meat piling down her GI tract, I shivered in my sister's grasp. I knew the answer already, but still had to confirm: "W-Why?"

"Because I don't want all these new friends around us to just leave all of a sudden, for no reason at all!" Mia innocently replied, then added with more dominating seriousness: "I want them to stay with us in here."

She gestured to the fifty-or-so shoppers still idiotically trying to savor their meals, though a few had already begun to detect the leftover traces of the nine-foot athlete's salty poots trickling in from down the hall, judging by their scrunched faces. Part of me thought I should've tried to warn them before now, maybe yelled for them to run while there was still time, but then a selfish side of me also knew that if I ruined my sister's fun by removing fifty potential fart-sniffing noses from the room, she'd simply make up for the lost numbers by making me draw open-mouthed gasps with my face buried between her naked glutes until I'd eaten exactly fifty times as many of her squalid mealtime air-bombs. So I probably wouldn't have told them to run after all. Did that make me a bad person? Maybe, but I'd also suffered too many mornings, noons, and nights inflating my lungs with Mia's fizzly gases to get caught up on morality like that.

A minute later, I'd casually approached the lockdown lever, removed the glass, pulled it, then broken it off before anyone was the wiser. Metal grates came down over all the exits around the food court, including the restaurants - excluding the taco bar, of course, which had to remain free to fuel the beast of her intestinal chorus. A few strangers' heads turned in response to being trapped inside the food court, still wrinkling their noses at the slowly-fouling oxygen, but none thought to flee for their lives. Sighing at my part in their upcoming pains, but knowing also that I had no choice, I sat humbly beside my sister while she polished off the first sixteen tacos quicker than a speed-eating champion. All there was left to do was wait.

"Looks like I'm all done!" Mia teased, pushing the empty plates at me. "I could use a little more. Would you be my favorite brother again and help me out? Oh, and you went kinda easy on the hot sauce last time. Seriously, don't be afraid of putting more. I really want to light a fire in here."

She patted her stomach for emphasis, but of course I knew my sister was far more excited about setting a gaseous blaze to the atmosphere of this entire food court, rather than inside her own guts. In her opinion, "better out than in" was a way of life, not just a mantra. Despite Mia's assurance, I also knew I had every reason to be afraid of adding more spice to the ultra-processed fuel for the dirty bomb she was brewing in her own intestines. Fear or not, though, I knew a second helping of insufficiently-sauced tacos would be intolerable: specifically, intolerable for me, when the gargantuan warden that was my little sister made me guzzle a whole bottle of the stuff while she pinched my nose at the sweaty upper cleft of her muscular booty cheeks.

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