Make a story of a woman who is lactose intolerant who drinks milk in a meeting and needs to release a big fart but can't because she's in a meeting all day. Make sure when she gets home her stomach is in pain, extremely bloated and stretched, and making a

Once upon a time in a bustling city, there was a young woman named Clara who was known for her diligence and impeccable professionalism at work. However, Clara had a secret: she was lactose intolerant. Despite her condition, she had a weakness for creamy, delicious products, especially milk. One particular Tuesday, during an all-day marketing meeting with her colleagues, Clara faced a challenging decision. The company had provided refreshments—including pastries, cheeses, and, of course, a large jug of her beloved milk. With the chaos of the day ahead and the ever-present determination to impress her bosses, Clara poured herself a generous glass of milk, reasoning that just one slip wouldn't hurt. The meeting commenced, and Clara felt the creamy liquid slide down her throat, setting off a chain reaction that she would regret. As the morning unfolded, minutes turned into hours, and the coffee discussion turned serious. Clara found herself wedged between two colleagues, their eyes glued to the speaker at the front of the room as they explored projections for the next quarter. Her stomach began to gurgle ominously. Clara shifted in her seat, trying to suppress the bubbling chaos within her. Her abdomen felt like a balloon, inflating slowly yet tripling in size with every tick of the clock. She felt a wave of discomfort wash over her, urging her to excuse herself, but with crucial presentations in the offing, she couldn’t find a moment to escape. As the hours dragged on, Clara became hyper-aware of the symphony her stomach was creating. The gurgles turned into loud growls, each sound echoing like a thunderclap through the silent room. She felt her cheeks heat up as she squeezed her legs together, hoping no one noticed the source of the sound. It was as if her intestines were throwing a raucous party, each angry twist and turn reverberating through her whole body. Finally, the meeting came to a close after what felt like eternity, and Clara barely contained her sigh of relief as she rushed to her desk. But the pressure in her belly only grew worse, and she knew she needed to get home—fast. The bloating was unbearable, and she could hardly walk straight, leaning slightly as she headed for the door. Upon arriving at her apartment, Clara wasted no time. She dashed to the bathroom, but just as she was about to unleash a torrent of relief, she hesitated, realizing she wanted to savor this moment alone. There, she stood in the middle of her living room, hands on her belly, listening to the noises that emanated from her swollen abdomen. “Grrrrrrhhrmmmm…” It churned and gurgled, an orchestra of discomfort echoing within her. Clara felt as if her belly had transformed into a restless monster trying to escape. The sounds crescendoed, creating a cacophony of protest that was both amusing and off-putting. Desperate to relieve herself and feeling the gentle pressure building, Clara hesitated no longer. With a deep breath, she let out one final fart—this time, it was explosive, rippling through her body as she doubled over, her belly nearly popping from the strain. The gas seemed to echo around her apartment, and for a moment, she felt weightless, as if the burden had lifted. Yet, as the last remnants of air escaped, the relief came at a price. Clara staggered back, clutching her stomach, now feeling the aftermath of her earlier indulgence in all its glory. It was still distended and loud, wobbling softly as it continued to gurgle in response to the chaos inside. She chuckled softly to herself, knowing very well that tomorrow’s meetings would definitely pave the way for a more cautious approach. And in the sound of her bloated belly, she found an odd sense of companionship, vowing never to underestimate the power of milk again.