Fart story one-shots 2!

Untethered: Agoraphobia [Ft. Art by Atom]

Charles flicked through the files in the Whitebridge Penitentiary archives methodically. With only a few minutes before his final session of the day, he needed to find out all he could about his patient. The session he had endured with Untethered the day before had truly seized his full attention. Her case was unlike anything he'd ever encountered before, and he knew there had to be some level to the story he just wasn't seeing...

Slumping back in his chair with a sigh, Charles drummed a finger against his head rhythmically. "Nothing! I've scoured the inmate files half a dozen times, and... no one matches Untethered's appearance..." Of course, that was a generalisation. He wasn't expecting to find a file showing Untethered in her full, nine-foot muscular stature, but it seemed that no one in the prison even remotely had similar features. He was stumped.

Grabbing his notepad, he reviewed the bullet points he had made in their session, "It just doesn't add up... She can leave any time she likes, but she insists she's forced to stay in prison..." He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, and he had spent many of his free hours trying to find out any form of background information on her.

More than that, he refused to believe that the prison would simply erase an inmate's existence...

Something clicked in Charles' brain, and he flicked back to his notes just to double-check.

"OH, Charles you fucking idiot!" He shouted at himself, before smiling and getting to his feet, "She only became an inmate after her experiment. If I want to find her file from before her experiment..." Charles didn't finish his thought aloud, instead leaving the inmate filing cabinets and heading to a different portion of the archives, labelled 'staff documents'.

Charles didn't have long to search for what he needed, and so he did his best to skim through as many documents as possible. He focused on the military personnel, since Untethered had mentioned being ex-military. And sure enough, after a few minutes of flipping through the documents...

"...Gotcha!" Charles pulled a papery yellow envelope from the drawer in triumph, having glanced a familiar face on the inside page. He opened the document and flicked through the pages, skimming paragraph after paragraph. He could review the information in detail later on, but he could tell from a quick glance that this was exactly what he'd been looking for.

Before he could revel too much in his success, however, a harsh beeping sound rang out from his wrist. He checked his watch – one minute until the therapy session. Taking a quick moment to slick back his hair with his hand, he tucked the document under his arm and hurried out of the prison archives. Even after only one full day of working at the prison, he had the layout memorised. He strode through the corridors as if he'd worked there for years, acting as if he owned the building.

Eventually, Charles came up to the Intensive Therapy room. Taking a quick glance at his watch, he smirked – right on schedule. He pushed the door open confidently, but took pause when he saw who was inside.

"You're late, Charlie boy."

Sat in the patient chair was Untethered, as nonchalant as ever. She had her arms folded over her breasts and her legs stretched out in front of her. She hadn't changed at all from yesterday – her fringe still acted as a veil over her brown eyes, her tanned, toned body still looked ever-so-deadly, and...

"...Why is it so warm in here? Have you been hotboxing yourself or something?" Charles commented, before walking up to his desk and setting down his belongings.

Untethered frowned at him, "I thought you wouldn't notice, since you have no sense of smell and all."

Charles sat down at his desk and shook his head. "I can't smell, but you've made it so... humid in here, it's difficult not to notice."