Cheerleader Cookie awoke in a haze. A nasty, tangy haze. She had no idea where she was, or what had happened between the end of practice and having a cloth thrown over her face from behind to choke her out. She was on a dingy stone floor in a windowless garage lit only by a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. It was so dim that she didn't notice the figure step out of the shadows next to her until it spoke.
 
"Oh good, you're awake."
 
It was Mustard Cookie, dressed in her school uniform. She was eerily casual given that she had kidnapped one of her classmates and was holding her in her basement. Cheerleader Cookie tried to speak, but her mouth was muffled by a thick piece of cloth. The same one that had been used to choke her out before, if the taste was any indication.
 
"Oh be quiet," Mustard said, "We're gonna make this nice and quick: I've got a tag I need to make and I'm running low on my signature Mustard Yellow. You're gonna help me reload, whether you like it or not. I gagged you for a reason after all, nobody's gonna be able to hear you with my skidmarks in your mouth."
 
Cheerleader gagged on her gag when she realized just what that rotten sour flavor on her tongue was: Mustard's well worn panties were crammed in her mouth. Her fears were confirmed when Mustard turned around, flipped up the back of her plaid skirt, and revealed that she was wearing nothing underneath. And then Cheerleader's situation got worse than she imagined when Mustard crammed her sweaty ass backwards into Cheerleader's face.
 
Now at the source of Mustard's sourness, Cheerleader was subjected to a faceful of murky, tangy sweat. For a cookie that never seemed to work out or even move at a pace faster than a bored stroll, Mustard had an impossibly nasty case of swamp ass. She tried to pull out of the pungent crack, but Mustard had her so well bound that all she was succeeding in doing was wiping Mustard's ass with her face. Mustard wasn't amused.
 
"Y'know the more you struggle the harder it's gonna be to jam you up there." Mustard said matter of factly, then when her words weren't heeded she decided to fix it, "Fine, I'll just have to calm you down myself."
 
FRRPT
 
A hot, humid blast of pure mustard gas hit Cheerleader in the face. Her weak struggles were killed on the spot, replaced with nothing more than weak whimpering and gagging as she choked on the tangy, spicy flatulence. Mustard gave her a few more good, harsh poots to the face, smearing the stink in with her ass, before she was satisfied.
 
"Done being a baby? Good, then let's get you UP THERE!"
 
Mustard thrust her ass backwards, shoving Cheerleader's head up her tight, slimy rectum. The inside of Mustard's ass was so foul that disgust reignited Cheerleader's struggling. She tried her damnedest to pull her head back out of Mustard's anus, but the tight muscles constricting her neck made it impossible. The only thing her flailing did was stir up more gas deep in Mustard's bowels, which now blasted her directly in the face.
 
FRPRPPPT
 
Mustard groaned, "Cut it out already, I'm not happy about this either. I'd much rather use someone interesting than a conformist bitch like you but, NNNG!" She pulled, her ass slurping Cheerleader up to her waist, "But beggars can't be choosers. Now get up my ass so I can churn you already!"
 
With a grunt, and another hard fart, Cheerleader slipped up to her ankles into Mustard's ass. Her little feet wriggled around outside of Mustard's ass for a minute before Mustard sucked those in as well, with a passive wiggle of her hips. Now full to bursting, Mustard patted her loaded bowels with a sigh.
 
"Now be a good little bitch and churn. We're wasting moonlight!"
 
...
 
Late at night, with nothing but the moonlight to guide her, Mustard Cookie crept through the back alleys of the city until she found her mark. It was a freshly cleaned brick wall out in front of everyone walking by, and it was perfect for a bit of her own artistic improvement. It was a larger canvas she was used to working with, so she was glad she fueled up as much as she could.
 
"Time to make some magic." She said, turning around and hiking up her skirt. She bent forward, clutched her stomach and focused. She concentrated as hard as she could, readying her lower body as much as possible before clenching and letting it all out with a hard grunt and a--
 
FRRRRSPPLOOOOOORTCH
 
Her ass fired off an absolutely massive shart, one with the force and spread of a shotgun. The wall behind her was splattered with her personal, mustard yellow paint. And, stuck fast to the wall, was a horribly stained and partially digested cheerleader's uniform. It'd be plastered to the wall as the "paint" dried. It was a perfect little addition to her artwork. Mustard finished off her piece with a signature at the base of the splatter (a rabbit-eared skull, her personal tag), then looked up at it with a contented sigh.
 
"Not bad, for a conformist bitch." She said, then dashed off away from the scene of the crime, with her ass still dripping bits of her personal paint.