Hi little brother

Oh really? You think I'm babe? That's quite amusing coming from my little brother who usually calls me Aisha or something similar to that. But if you insist on calling me that, just remember it's only because today is a special day and I feel particularly generous. So what's up with you, young man? Anything interesting happening in your life lately?

Hmm...a bet? You're up to something, I can tell. Well, I suppose it depends on what the bet is about. Feel free to propose your idea and we'll discuss the terms. Just remember, though, that you've been rather unlucky lately, so there's a high probability that you might lose this one as well. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Hmm...I see you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you? It's a rather peculiar request, but I suppose it would be in poor taste to turn down such an interesting proposition from my beloved little brother. However, I must clarify a few things before we proceed:

1. This match must take place under professional conditions, with appropriate safety measures and referees present.
2. No dirty tricks or outside interference will be tolerated. If you attempt to cheat, the match will be forfeited immediately, and your soul shall belong to me forevermore.
3. Once the match is over, and I am declared the victor, you must abide by your end of the bargain - serving as my fart slave for all eternity. There can be no argument or negotiation on this point.

Do we have an agreement?

Oh, I'm not being cocky at all, little brother. In fact, I am quite confident in my abilities to emerge victorious from this match. But that's part of the fun, isn't it? The thrill of competition and uncertainty can make things all the more interesting. So let's set a date and place for our wrestling extravaganza, shall we? I want everyone to see just how superior my skills are compared to yours!

3.2.1. Start is an odd choice for a date, but I suppose you're trying to be clever with your words. Very well then, let us assume you meant "tomorrow" instead. As for the place, how about our family's private wrestling ring in the backyard? It's well-maintained and will provide ample space for our contest. But remember, under no circumstances are you to leave until I have proclaimed myself as your eternal fart slave. Do we understand each other?

Now, little brother, if you're quite ready, perhaps you should begin preparing yourself physically and mentally for the match of a lifetime. I expect nothing less than your absolute best effort tomorrow!

Oh, really? You want to wrestle right here and now instead of waiting until tomorrow at the designated location? That's a bit...impulsive of you. But since it's your birthday and you insist, I suppose we can make an exception this once. However, please keep in mind that there are no referees or safety measures in place at the moment. Wrestling in such conditions comes with inherent risks, so please be careful.

Alright then, little brother, let's get started. But remember, once you agree to these terms, there can be no going back. You must abide by your decision and see it through to the end!

Very well then, let the match begin! I suggest we start with some basic warm-ups to loosen up our muscles before engaging in more vigorous activities. Shall we begin with a few stretching exercises?

Hmm...you seem rather aggressive today. Well, if you insist on jumping straight into things, I suppose there's no harm in indulging you for now. But please remember that proper warm-ups are essential to avoid injuring oneself during more intense activities like wrestling. With that being said, let the match commence!

Oh dear! It seems my little brother has underestimated my strength once again. He's not aware that I've been training secretly for years now, honing my wrestling skills to perfection. As he lunges toward me with reckless abandon, I easily anticipate his movements and manage to grab him by surprise.

With a firm grip on his arm, I twist it slightly, forcing him to cry out in pain. It's clear that the warm-ups have done their job; my joints are warm and flexible, allowing me to execute this move with ease. He struggles against me feebly, but it's no use; his strength has waned due to the lack of proper preparation.

Smirking triumphantly, I begin to pull him closer, tightening my grip on his arm. "I told you not to underestimate me," I whisper in his ear, breath hot against his skin. "You should have listened."

As I expertly manage to throw my little brother to the ground, his face hits the mat with a sickening thud. It's almost enough for me to feel a twinge of guilt, but then he begins squirming and wriggling beneath me, trying desperately to escape. Such determination!

It's at this moment that I realize just how serious he is about this bet. He would rather have me as his fart slave for all eternity than admit defeat and live the rest of his life without my affection. It's quite touching, really.

Deciding to give him a taste of his own medicine, so to speak, I casually break wind in his direction. There's no need to aim perfectly; my years of practice have made me expertly proficient at delivering gut-wrenching farts even when not looking.

Sure enough, my little brother's eyes water as the putrid stench invades his nostrils and fills his lungs. And then, just to rub it in a bit more, I slowly begin to push out another fart, this one even larger than the first. He tries futilely to squirm away from its path, but it's no use; he's completely helpless beneath me.

As my second fart finally hits him full force, his face contorts into a mixture of disgust and defeat. There's a brief moment when I feel guilty again...but then I remember that he insisted on making this bet in the first place. And so, with a satisfied smirk curling across my lips, I lean down closer to him and whisper, "I told you I was going to win."