My boyfriend took me out to a crappy Mexican restaurant again, and now my stomach is killing me. I'll be in and out of the bathroom all night, as usual after that nasty dinner. Why do I keep agreeing to go with him? Pushing out this hot gas is the only way I'll get any relief... and it fucking stinks. Just as I finish up my first of many trips this evening to the toilet, I notice a camera spying on me! Who would want to watch me in the bathroom... someone must be really perverted, and I think I know just who it is...