Desperate little girls who need to go so badly that they start humping things to distract themselves from the heavy feeling in their bladder are the cutest things on Earth!
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I posted this on my old account (@ewhot) before I deleted it so I’m reposting it here :) enjoy pervert freaks
warnings: shit+piss+diapers
pairing: gender neutral A & female partner B
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A always struggled with incontinence — they found it difficult to listen to their body. They never quite knew when to stop eating, or when to go to the bathroom. Their partner B often had to remind them to eat, and sometimes A wouldn’t realize they needed to go to the toilet until they were practically messing themself.
B wanted to put an end to it. She loved A dearly and hated to see them struggle. She didn’t mind reminding them to eat, but it was harder to remind them to consistently go to the bathroom. She came up with a plan, picking up a package of adult diapers from the store one day.
“So I have an idea,” she told A, sitting them down on the couch. “You know how you have trouble going potty without being reminded?”
A nodded and blushed.
B pulled out the diapers. “I was thinking you could wear these. Then, whenever you are, when you need to go, you can just go! What do you think?”
A squirmed where they say. “I mean...it sounds a little...embarrassing,” they admitted.
“But it’s less embarrassing than pooping or peeing your pants, right?” B said.
A thought for a minute. “I...I guess you’re right. This is...a good idea.” They sounded unsure, but willing to give it a try. Then they asked, “who would change me? Change my diapers, I mean?”
“I would, silly,” B said. “You’ll wear one all day and night and you can tell me when you’ve used the diaper, and then I’ll get you a fresh one.”
A was warming up to the idea. They let B help them into the diaper, and then the two were off to bed.
A always fell asleep before B. They liked to be the little spoon, curled up against B. It wasn’t long before A was snoring softly. B closed her eyes and listened to the sound of her sweet partner.
After an hour or so of drifting in and out of sleep, B felt A’s tummy tighten. She opened her eyes and looked at the back of A’s head.
“A?” She said softly. No reply. They were still sound asleep.
A thrusted their bottom back against B and whined quietly. B quickly realized what was going on. A was about to have their first poop in the diaper. B put her arms around A’s torso and began softly rubbing their tummy, feeling it tense once more.
“Let it come out,” she whispered to A, holding them close to her. “Push it out whenever you’re ready.”
B heard the gentle noise of liquid trickling into the diaper as A released their bladder. Then A quivered, and a short throaty grunt left their lips. B heard the diaper crinkling and she smiled. “Good job, sweetie,” she whispered as the sound of urine dissipated, and something solid forced its way out.
A wasn’t done. They launched into another unconscious push, pulling their legs up to their chest, their stomach flexing against B’s arms. The diaper crinkled and popped as it flexed outward against B’s thighs. A let out another shaky grunt and breathed heavily.
B pressed her fingers to A’s tummy and could still feel more poop waiting to be pushed out. “You’re doing so good,” she whispered. Suddenly A jerked awake.
“Wha- what?” They sat up, looking around sleepily. Then B saw their expression change. Their face contorted involuntarily, and their eyes glazed over. A noise of confusion and urgency came from their lips as another log crowed from their bum. “Oh my god, I-“ they tried to speak, spreading their legs instinctively and leaning back on the pillows. “I’m pooping, hhhnnnnnnnnmmngg, I’m pooping,” they grunted, then released their push, panting hard. “Why didn’t you wake me up??”
B brushed some hair from A’s sleepy face. “Honey, this is what the diapers are for. So you can poop whenever you need to without having to worry about messing the bed.”
A’s face twisted again as they stared at B, unable to speak through another massive effort of their bowels trying to empty themselves. “I don’t - Hnnnnnnnnnmng,” they groaned so gutturally it was almost a growl. Then they panted. “I...This is so...babyish,”
They blushed, closing their legs back up and looking away from B. “I feel icky.”
“Aw, baby,” B said. “Don’t. I think this will be really good for you. Aren’t you glad you didn’t have an accident in the hallway like last time? Wasn’t this much more relaxing?”
A looked at her. “Yeah, I guess.” They smiled.
“Good,” B leaned over to kiss their cheek. “Now, are you all finished?”
“I think so,” they said.
“Do you want me to change you before we go back to sleep?”
“Yes please.”
They both got up to head to the bathroom. Just before they got there, A trailing behind B holding her hand, A urgently dropped into a squat and grunted again.
“Oh no! I guess you weren’t done,” B turned around and sat down next to A, who’s face was grimacing and red. The diaper was taut and bulging now. “Hmm. I don’t know if you have much more room,” B said, patting the back of the warm diaper.
A finally stopped pushing and breathed heavily. “I...have...more,” they said.
B had another idea. “Let’s just lay you down, open up the diaper, and have you finish pooping like that, okay?”
A let B take them into the bathroom, lay them down, and begin unfastening the diaper. “Please hurry,” A said. “My tummy is trying to push and I - nnnng - I wanna get the rest out.”
B pulled the diaper open. It was filled with dozens of dark hard pebbles and four log segments thicker than A’s wrist. It was also heavy and hot with piss. “Oh goodness, you had a lot in there, huh?” B said. Then she looked at A’s anus, which was poking out and puckering in wildly with A’s effort not to bear down quite yet. “Okay,” she said, scooting the diaper down so A had room to unload the rest of their dump. “Go for it.”
A nodded, spreading their legs and looking into B’s eyes as they pushed. A fart came first, followed by a smooth, wide, softer movement that coiled up under their bottom. “I’m almost done,” they grunted, giving another small push. A couple more pieces fell from their thoroughly stretched anus. Then they were finished.
“Wow,” A panted. “That was...a lot.”
“Bet it felt good to get it out, though,” B said.
A nodded. “You’re right. I could get used to this diaper thing.”
*days later*
After A and B agreed that A would wear diapers full-time, they laid down some ground rules.
“I think it’s really important that you don’t take the diapers off without my permission. You should always use the diapers to go,” B said, sitting across from A at the dining table.
A didn’t disagree, but made an unsatisfied face. “I mean...what if I can make it to the toilet, though?”
“Baby, the whole reason we put you in diapers in the first place is because you can’t make it to the toilet on time! It will save you and me some grief if you just get used to the diaper. I do not want you taking it off without permission. Understood?” B said sternly.
A nodded, arms crossed. “I can only take it off to change myself when you’re not here.” They repeated the rules to themself. B nodded.
“That’s right,” she said. “And you’ll put a new one back on right afterwards. Trust me, sweetie. This is going to be good for you.” Then she stood up. “Okay, I have my appointment in a few minutes. I’m gonna go. But I won’t be too long. Be good!” She kissed A’s forehead on her way out the front door.
A huffed and sat on the couch. Their tummy had been gurgling for an hour or so. They surely would be able to poop soon...maybe even in the toilet, since B was gone. A took a deep breath and did push into the seat of their diaper. Nothing. No movement.
They sighed and turned on the Xbox to play till something happened.
A half-hour later, a fart was pressing hard against their anus. They bore down slightly and blasted a dry fart into the diaper. Then something began to descend. They could feel something wide and firm forcing its way towards the exit. It wasn’t there yet, but it was urgent enough for A to pause their game, and make their way to the toilet, despite B’s explicit instruction.
They didn’t bother closing the bathroom door since B was not home. They pulled the diaper off. The cool air send chills over their private parts and their exposed bottom. Their anus flexed instinctively at being near the toilet. It was ready to come out now.
A lowered their bum onto the cold toilet seat, feeling like an adult finally for the first time in weeks. A stream of piss began trickling from them as the pressure on their bottom grew stronger and stronger. As the last of the piss dribbled out, A heard their anus crackling wide open, and the head of a firm sausage emerged before A even had to push. They let it hang for a moment, and it felt so good to be stretched so wide around the turd.
As they were reveling in the feeling, they heard the front doorknob turn. The poop sucked back up into A’s bottom and they felt themself flood with fear.
“A? Baby?” B called.
“Just a s-second!” A yelled, hoping B didn’t come looking for them. Oh, how they wished they’d closed the bathroom door.
Just as A was about to get off the toilet and put their diaper back on, the poop wanted out, as if it was angry at A for forcing it back inside. Their gut contracted hard and they grunted, pushing the tough head of the poop back out.
“A?” B said again, her voice getting closer. “Did you say something?”
“N-“ A tried to call out, but their tummy threatened to force a grunt out of them once more. Finally they couldn’t hold it back. A forceful, drawn-out throaty sound came from their mouth as they strained the poop through their anus. Then B appeared in the bathroom doorway.
She raised her eyebrows at the sight of A, legs spread on the toilet, red-faced and grimacing up at them guiltily. “What are you doing?” She asked quietly.
“Pooping,” A said shamefully, panting from the exertion. “I just wanted to try going on the toilet again! Please don’t be mad at me!”
B sat on the bathtub edge across from the toilet and spread A’s knees, seeing a smooth, firm log crackling from A’s bum. As she watched, A gave a forceful push, and B saw the poop pick up speed, then it plopped down into the toilet. A’s anus closed back up.
“Please, I’m so sorry, I just really didn’t want to go in the diaper today!” A pleaded, reaching for the toilet paper. B grabbed their wrist.
“No, no wiping. Lay down and I’ll get the wipes. Let’s get that diaper back on you.” She helped A into their back. “And let’s flush this away,” she said, looking at the solid log in the toilet. She pulled the lever.
“Are you going to punish me?” A asked as B began to wipe their hole with a wet wipe. B sighed.
“It’s not going to be a punishment so much as a reminder,” B said. “But we’ll deal with that later. Let’s go to bed.”
Too afraid to ask more, A let B do up their diaper and take them to the bedroom.
The next few days were uneventful, but A remained suspicious. What would this punishment entail?
B spent the days practically spoon-feeding A all their favorite foods: pizza, pasta, fries, the works. A was wary of what these delicious foods meant for their punishment, for they were sure it meant something — but they were a sucker for all the yummy greasy treats and tried to push suspicion from their mind as they dived in. It wasn’t till the third night that they felt something was very wrong.
I haven’t pooped, they thought, feeling their stomach. That was when they filled with dread suspecting what B was going to do to them.
B slipped something into A’s drink the next morning.
“What is that?” A said, eyeing their glass of water.
“It’s your punishment. Or, your reminder,” she said. “It’s a little tablet that will get your tummy ready for what I have planned today.”
“Which is?” A asked nervously.
“I have lots of errands to do and I thought you could come with me,” B said casually. “Grocery store, pharmacy, starbucks...”
“Is this going to make me poop?” A asked, staring at the plate of breakfast food they’d just emptied.
“Just drink it, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time.” B soothed.
As she stared at A, they raised their water glass to their lips and downed it, punishment pill and all.
A tried to forget about the mysterious pill as they accompanied B on her day’s errands. They got coffee first. A didn’t want any, fearing the coffee would speed up their bowels, but B just smiled, kissed their cheek, and order them a big iced latte.
“Not even with almond milk?” A said as they waited for their order. “You know what dairy does to my tummy.”
B hummed. “I do. That’s why I ordered it for you. We’re going to see just exactly why it’s important for you to wear the diaper.” She patted A’s bottom loud enough for the crinkling diaper to sound.
A sipped their latte nervously in the car. Their tummy felt so full from breakfast, and from the past 3 days of food. So far it was just a deep twinging ache; not urgent yet, but A could tell their guts were getting ready to force out a barrage of pent-up turds.
“What was that pill?” A asked again, squeezing their legs together.
B chuckled. “Are you feeling icky?”
“Yes,” A said, aggravated now. “What was the pill?”
“It’s a digestion aid.”
“What kind of aid??”
“It stimulates bowel contractions, and helps add some...bulk.”
“What??? My poops are already big as is!!” A blushed at their own desperation to gain control of the situation. “I don’t need that stupid pill. It’s just going to make me uncomfortable.”
“Sweetie, I promise you don’t have to worry about a thing. It’s not going to harm you, and I’ll make sure no one gives you any trouble.”
“Why would they give me trouble?? Are you going to force me to-“ they almost couldn’t finish the sentence, the thought was too terrible. She won’t make me poop my diaper in public, will she? They thought.
B just turned into the parking lot of the pharmacy with a small smile. “Don’t worry about it,” she said.
While B talked to the pharmacist, A said in a chair and squirmed. The pressure building in their gut was coming on faster and stronger than A thought it would. It was becoming hard to take their mind off it.
At this point, A hoped B would just let them mess their diaper in the car, rather than the grocery store. I’ll try to do it on the next drive, they thought to themself, hoping the massive dump would be ready in time.
“Please hurry,” A was bobbing their knees watching B collect her medicine from the pharmacist. The pressure was begging to be released just a little bit, and A relaxed their bottom slightly. A crackling fart shot into their diaper, wetter and louder than they were expecting. The poop would definitely be ready soon.
B turned around. “Mm, getting closer, baby?” She said, patting A on the shoulder. A was mortified, sure the pharmacist had heard their fart.
“Let’s just go,” A mumbled, standing up. B held their hand as they exited the pharmacy.
A massaged their tummy in the car, readying themself to push out their dump before arriving at the grocery store. As B turned on the car, A bore down, trying not to grunt as to not alert B.
Immediately a series of painful loud farts came out. A groaned softly. B looked at them.
“Your cheeks are pink,” she noted warningly. “Are you pushing?”
A shook their head quickly. “No, just...trying to relieve some pressure, that’s all.”
“You are not to poop until it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t want you wearing a messy diaper for longer than you need to.”
A made a noise of frustration. “I don’t want to poop in the store!! Please can I just do it now? It feels ready,” they said. their recent farts had their hole feeling a lot looser, and they could feel a heavy load descending into their colon.
B shook her head. “No, you’re going to wait till it comes out on its own. You can push when your body pushes for you.”
A was too aggravated to say anything else, so they just continued letting hot, silent farts seep into their diaper, trying desperately to alleviate the aches in their tummy.
By the time they pulled into the grocery store parking lot, A felt the sudden intense urge to let it all out. Their anus burned and a tiny fart escaped. The whined and groaned again, wanting so badly to bear down but too embarrassed to beg again. B turned off the car. “Okay, let’s go in. Want to push the cart for me?”
A glared at her and got out of the car gingerly, walking slowly with their thighs clenched. They grabbed a cart on their way in and B lead them to the produce section.
A’s grip on the cart handle tightened as they drew in a sharp breath. Their stomach twisted and cramped viciously, a horrid pain overtaking their entire gut and forcing them to bend over. “Oh god, oh god, no,” they whined. A fart shot into the diaper, not loud enough to alert nearby shoppers, but loud enough for B to hear and chuckle.
“Oh, poor baby. Having trouble holding it?” She put a bunch of bananas in the cart. A’s face twisted with the effort to resist the urge to relax and push, hunched over in the grocery store. So they just nodded.
“Mmhmm,” they groaned, trying to stand up straight and keep pushing the cart forward. The urge subsided gradually, but A feared its return — they could tell the next contraction would be too demanding to resist.
The two made their way around the store, A whining and squirming quietly like a child. They would feel the irresistible childish urge to bend their knees each time they stopped walking, so they would rush B frequently.
“Please please can we go?” A whined. A woman in the dairy section looked over at A pitifully. A blushed hard. “B, please. I’m desperate and my tummy hurts and I just wanna leave.”
“I’m not done shopping yet, sweetie,” B lead them to the baby section. “We need to pick up some more diapers for you, seeing as you’re about to fill this one.” She giggled and the woman heard, shooting them a confused, embarrassed look. A was horrified.
Then it was happening. A hot, painful fart forced its way out of A, and a brutal contraction seized their stomach. “Ow!! Fuck, fuck, fuck,” they moaned, tears prickling their eyes. “B, I really can’t hold it, I can’t, I can’t,” they said.
B knew they were truly desperate now. “Okay, honey, good. You can let it go. Do you want me to help you into the cart so you can focus on pooping?”
A nodded and resisted the urge as much as possible while B helped them climb into the bed of the shopping cart, which was empty enough that they could sit in a low squat with their legs spread comfortably. Once they were situated and B began pushing the cart through the busy baby food isle, A decided they had no option but to let go.
While staring up at the ceiling lights, they drew in a massive breath, and bore down, grunting shortly. A man shopping next to their cart looked around suddenly and was met with the view of A’s reddening face, and their crinkly white diaper beneath their thin leggings.
“Please...gggnnnnnngg...don’t look at me,” A whined and grunted pitifully, trying not to look the man in the eyes. The man was alarmed and quickly turned back around.
B chuckled. “Sorry, don’t mind them. They’re totally backed up, but looks like it’s finally ready to come out, huh?” She smiled down at A, who was frustratedly launching into another push.
They could feel their anus flexing out, but the hole remained shut tight, despite the enormous urge to unload. “It won’t come out,” A heaved, sweat beginning to glisten on their forehead.
B pushed the cart towards checkout, where there was a long line of customers with full carts. “Keep trying, darling. Try holding your knees.”
“I don’t want anyone to hear me,” A said quietly as they drew nearer to the shoppers in line.
“It’s a natural process sweetie, everyone understands that. Just focus on getting your poop out.” B smiled down at them. “Now let me see you push.”
A could not think of anything else to do, so they propped their feet up on the baby seat of the cart, and began grunting, overcome with the primal urge to force their anus open. They screwed their eyes shut.
“Good job, that’s a good push,” B said, caressing their knee. “Is it coming out?”
“It’s....hnnnng....hnnnng!!!!! It’s starting to open up my bottom,” A grunted. A prickling sensation spread through their anus as it started to dome downward, a knobbly wide stool working its way out. “I just need to...HHNNG..push!!!”
A woman in front of them in line turned around. “Oh, poor thing. Are they constipated?” She said to B. B nodded. “They have a hard time using the potty at home so sometimes we have to use diapers. Isn’t that right, baby?”
A tried to hide their face, but their stomach was forcing them to push hard, and the urge to spread their legs wider overcame them. They used their hands to pull their knees to their chest, and with a grunt that was nearly a yell, they felt the tip of their poop widen their anus. “Ggggggggrrrrggg....it’s coming!!” They grunted. Their chest heaved. A pebble fell into the seat of their diaper.
“That’s it, baby,” B said, placing her hand on the bottom of the diaper. She felt something rock hard push against it.
A felt like they were being split in half by how wide and rocky their stool was. Its tip finally touched the diaper. “I’m pooping,” they groaned uncontrollably. “Hnng, I’m pooping now, please don’t look!!”
B just hummed comfortingly and the woman in front of them in line giggled softly. A’s loud efforts were drawing a small crowd of onlookers. “Don’t watch me!” They begged through a grunt. “I’m pooping!!”
B began loading groceries onto the conveyer belt when they were next in line at the cashier. She acted casually, as if A was not there. A’s stomach was kicking into reflex mode now was the first section of their log thudded like a stump into their diaper. It grew harder to push out the poop as the diaper filled, but their stomach demanded to be emptied and simply forced them to grunt out rock after rock. They made animalistic sounds of effort, strain and humiliation as the diaper began to stretch, trying to accommodate their stool.
The cashier looked at them sympathetically as she rang up B’s purchases. “Are you okay?” She asked.
A was delirious, not even ashamed anymore. “Yes, I’m just...hnnnng...I’m pooping,” they said, pushing as they shared eye contact with the stranger. “Going poop.”
“I can see that,” she said. Her and B shared a knowing glance.
“It’s big and hard so I’m...hmmmmg..having a hard time,” A reached down and felt the diaper expanding and growing heavy.
“Well, good luck finishing off that stinker,” the cashier said, handing B her receipt.
A smiled shakily as a softer log coiled out of them. B pushed the cart towards the exit while A was still lost in their own little world, now completely acting on instinct as the rode the waves of peristalsis ushering smooth turds from their loosened bottom.
“Wow, you are a super pooper,” B said as she pushed the cart to their car and unlocked it. “Are you done yet?”
A shook their head, getting to their hands and knees in the cart. Hot, loose pieces of poop came now, sending farts out with each contraction of A’s gut.
“Let me help you into the car. You can finish pooping on the drive home, okay?” B said.
“Okay, just let me...uggh,” a loud fart and a squelching sound came from A’s bottom. Then they stood on shaky knees and let B help them step out of the cart. While B put the cart away, A leaned with their head against the car and their bottom pushed out, not caring that strangers could see them, and let soft, demanding poop spew from their anus.
B came back and helped A slowly into the car, while their legs shook furiously and their hole flexed in and out like pair of lips puckering. Finally they were seated in the passenger seat, with their feet up on the dash, comfortably pooping again, forcing the final segments of stool out into the stuffed diaper.
B got into the drivers seat and looked over at A. “You looked so beautiful in there,” she said. “Working so hard to empty yourself.”
A breathed heavily and the scent of their massive dump filled the car. “Thanks,” they said. They weren’t even annoyed anymore that B forced them to shit in public, they were just glad to be finally empty.
When they got home, B changed A’s diaper and put on a fresh one, then let A take a nap. They were simply exhausted.
Saying “I can’t hold it” while actively pushing. Red face, grunty voice, etc
The subtle shift in expression when someone goes from relaxed to focused as they start pooping. It’s like you can visually track their gradual surrender to nature, the moment they shift from competent adult to animal relieving itself.
Solid accidents in uncommon places. Being on a bumpy bus ride that makes your turtle-heading poop bump against your hole over and over like it’s trying to pry you open from the inside. Being in the crowd at a big area game, struggling with all your might not to relax your bum, then seeing your red face pop up on the megatron right as your gut decides to bear down and work that poop out. Being stuck in an elevator with important colleagues when your poop decided it’s time to come out and despite urgent clenching, you’re forced to stare your colleagues in the face as your hole gapes open.
Side note: solid accidents are almost *more* embarrassing because it’s like…you couldn’t hold that? Not being able to hold a loose liquidy poop is one thing but not being able to hold a big solid poop? Childish incompetent incontinent behavior
I’ve harped on about this before but vocal pooping >>> announcements like “it’s coming out”, “I’m going”, “I’m pooping”, “it’s happening” etc it’s so good idk why
Imagine… suckling on mommy’s tits while she’s desperate… you’re cuddled down by her huge bladder bulge, her tummy soft but so full of hard, sensitive bladder, you can’t even touch it because mommy keeps squirming around while you’re trying to nurse on her….. now imagine… you’re desperate and sucking mommy’s tits for dear life as you squirm around, crying to mommy that you have to pee so bad you’re just bursting, and mommy rubs you and tells you it’s okay… you cuddle up and your round, full bladder begs for release, huge and swollen and embarrassingly noticeable…. Mommy would just soothe you until you feel relaxed enough to let your piss out…. And it would take you so, so so long to empty, you just laying there pissing HARD into mommy, sucking her tit and clinging to her, and you push and push your piss out, desperately looking for relief for your overfilled, exploding bladder.
idea i don't know if I've seen before, someone in the line to the bathroom or something, and despite trying so hard to hold it, wetting themselves before they get to use the toilet, and everyone thinks they've gotten their relief now and can leave, maybe a friend or partner is actively trying to get them going home now, and the person now has to admit they ALSO needed to go number two, and still do, VERY badly
Omg that's sooo good. I love scenarios where other characters comment on someone's desperation/relief, and I also love it when a character has to admit they still need to go.
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A sequel to Breakdown, as I wrote a few months ago. But it's just a scene of someone shitting their pants, so it's not like there's a plot you are missing.
Comments make me happy... ;)
CW: desperation, loss of control, public embarrassment, messing, scat, bodily functions
By the time the train rolled away from the platform I knew I was in trouble.
I had waited for maybe 20 minutes at the station, and I really needed to use the bathroom. But it was after eight in the evening, and the station building was locked and closed. I had planned to use that, thinking it closed at nine, but no. I was wrong.
The next step had been to use the bathroom on the train. But when I stepped on I realized that this late at night the service was just using the short trains, and they didn't have a bathroom on board. Until I got on board I had merely been uncomfortable, not looking forward to using the cramped train toilets, but I had been fine. Now I was sitting on the train with my arms wrapped around my sling bag, gritting my teeth and focusing all I could on holding it.
I had had an— well I had had an accident a few months back, this summer. And all I could think of as the train rolled through the evening, was of that horrible afternoon, and the heavy feeling in my bowels promised that if I didn't get home soon, it would happen again.
…
The ride home takes forty minutes, more or less, and it was forty minutes of suffering. There weren't many other people on board, but there were some. I tried to keep a straight face and not attract attention throughout the ride. And I think everyone else was busy with their phones. The darkness outside meant that you couldn't even look at the surroundings. A teenage couple were very busy trying to not be affectionate in public. It was kinda sweet actually.
I had tried to distract myself with my phone myself, but I simply couldn't focus enough. It was as if all my brain power was funneled into keeping my stomach under control. I couldn't think of anything else. The need to take a shit was just dominating. That, and the memory of the time I hadn't made it.
I almost lost it when the ticket inspector tapped the chair I was sitting in, to attract my attention. I had been completely caught up in mental torment spiral and had completely failed to notice her coming up behind me with the ticket scanning thingy they use, and she had startled me badly. I could genuinely feel something start to shift inside me as I jolted, and trying to hold it, while also fishing the phone up, finding and opening the app, navigating to where the tickets were—oh god I didn't have the mental bandwidth to spare for this kind of thing—was a torment.
But with effort I managed to do both, she smiled at me, and moved on to the couple, while I hugged my bag and focused all that I could of keeping myself under control. This was just like the cramps I had felt before shitting my pants, and a sinking feeling of inevitability settled on me.
…
I spent the last quarter or so of the ride in absolute misery. The cramps were coming and going, getting more intense with each spasm that rolled over my gut. At first sitting down felt like the right choice, it was like it was putting less stress on my stomach, and I could use the pressure from the chair against my ass to hold it. But as the waves were getting more intense I realized I was making the same mistake as I had done the last time. I was squatting down, wasn’t I? I had learned by bitter experience how that was a trap.
It took a lot of effort to force myself to stand up. And my gut really didn’t like it, making a new pressure wave roll over me. I couldn't help but notice that my bladder was also getting uncomfortably full. Sitting down I hadn’t noticed, but standing up, it was making itself noticed. Because of course it was. I wasn’t even hoping to avoid an accident any more, I just wanted to get off the train before it happened. I didn’t want to be stuck with strangers in here, where I’d stand obvious under the train’s lighting.
I tried to be casual as I walked past the kissing teenagers, and grabbed onto the pole over near the doors and steadied myself against it. I was close enough to my stop that I figured it wouldn’t look too awkward, and even if it was, I was honestly beyond caring. I hitched my bag over my shoulder and hugged the pole close, and tried not to squat as the train closed in on my station.
…
The jolt when the train came to a halt almost wrecked me. I was mid-cramp and holding on for dear life when the train stopped and I staggered. I could genuinely feel my asshole begin to dilate when I did, and my entire body froze up as I focused with all I had on not shitting my pants then and there. It was hard. It was so fucking hard. But, by the time the teenagers stopped smooching and got up, I had gotten myself under control enough to step out of the train and into the cold autumn evening.
I grimaced to myself and did a mental calculation of what I had to do to get home. Through the underpass by the station, then a ten minute walk home, on a lane that ran parallel to the railway. Normally it wouldn’t be any issue at all, but when my guts were twisting themselves in knots like this it felt almost impossible.
I couldn’t even walk normally. I tried to walk fast at first, but a twisting spasm in my gut that nearly made me double over with the need to shit made me stop after just a few steps. The other people who had been on the train walked past me, and I was left alone on the platform as they departed. I took short, careful steps as I got going. It was slow, but it worked. Every step took me closer to home.
…
I was almost all the way down the ramp to the underpass when a new cramp struck, and I had to grab the guide rail. I couldn’t help it as my legs bent in an involuntary squat. I could feel my body start pushing. No. I wasn’t going to shit myself. Not here. It hurt to force myself to stand, to straighten up, and to hold myself rigid. I squeezed my ass cheeks together, and pressed one of my hands against my ass, as if that would help. My other hand cradled my aching tummy. My body wanted to just do it, and it was pleading with me to just let go. I wasn’t. Not again.
A man on a bike passed me by while I was standing there like that. God it must have been so obvious; anyone would’ve seen I was almost shitting my pants. He vanished through the tunnel and left me standing there. Sweat running down my spine, as I was fighting for all I was worth to stay composed. It would have been so easy to let go. But no. I was just some ten minutes away from home. I had managed a 40 minute train ride. I wasn’t going to give up now.
…
The stairs up from the underpass were too much for me.
I struggled up them, one step at a time, legs shaking, hunched over in pain, clasping the guide rail. I honestly don’t know how I made it all the way up, but that effort turned out to be simply too much for me. Once at the top, I tried to straighten up, and that movement caused a stab of discomfort to roil through my belly, and before I even realized I was doing it, I slid my feet apart, bent into a half-squat, and for the second time in just a few months, shit my pants.
Unlike last time there was no slow breaching of the sphincter. This was forceful. The mass pushed itself out of me in one unstoppable movement. I felt it against the hand I was pushing up against the seat of my jeans. The gap between my ass cheeks just… swelled with a mound of my own shit. I gasped as I felt it there. The same kind of horrible feeling. My underwear suddenly growing too tight as something disgusting filled them. Something disgusting and hot. Oh god why was it so warm?
A second spasm followed the first, and it sounded almost like someone stepping in mud as the bulge grew under my hand. My body had just stopped obeying me. And then, of course, I felt my bladder join in as I pissed myself. I felt a long, hot spurt flood into my underwear. It made a strange hissing sound as it hit the cloth of my distended panties. I stood there, one hand still on my ass, just staring down at my legs. I saw the glistening piss flood down my legs, and drip down onto the stairs, and beginning to trickle down towards the underpass.
I felt I needed to shit more, but with this much already in my pants I was back in control. The last of the piss ran down my legs, some of it flowing into my shoes, some of it forming a puddle between my feet. I was a fucking mess.
…
I just stood there. I don’t know how long. Half a minute maybe. I just had to gather myself. The September wind had already cooled the piss, but the mess in my pants was still just as warm. In a sticky, disgusting way. I slowly straightened up. My legs were protesting. I wasn’t used to just holding a half squat like that, and they shook as I stood up. The shit was pressed into a different shape, and spread out along my butt cheeks as I straightened.
The stink of it hit me. Just a whiff as the wind turned, really. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but I winced a bit nevertheless. The last time I did this, the clean up had been a stinking hell. It was going to be just as bad this time.
I took an uncomfortable step forward, legs slightly apart, so I wouldn’t have to feel the waste. I turned around to look across the train tracks. I had made it… I dunno, maybe 50 meters from the train. Perhaps a hundred. I’m bad at distances like this, but it wasn’t a long distance. I still had my ten minutes of walk ahead of me.
…
It was a pain. Walking in the chill air with piss-wet pants was a kind of misery that I should have expected, but I just hadn’t thought about it. The wetness in my shoes was worse though. Cold, wet socks. Piss-wet socks. The shit also slowly cooled, and I felt it all begin to make me itch where the filth touched my skin. I hated it.
The mess in the rear was heavy in a way that I can’t really describe. By rights it shouldn’t be. It must’ve been less than a kilo. But the way it sat against my ass, it was an unwelcome weight that I just wasn’t used to, and each step it tugged on my jeans and panties from within.
A few cars passed by on the road next to the lane I walked. They probably saw me. The piss-trails down my legs were obvious enough that I can’t imagine they didn’t spot me. There was a woman walking a dog that I saw coming, who was going to pass me by. I had a lot of time to let my imagination paint how she’d react to me. But in the end she didn’t even look at me.
…
The walk took about 15 minutes. It felt a lot longer. Waddling the way I did slowed me down, I guess. But finally I got up the short hill to where the house with my apartment was. I dug my keys from my jacket pocket, and grit my teeth. It had been bad so far. But the cleaning up was going to be worse still.
Imagine: you are a bathroom attendant in some very very fancy area. Part of your job is to wipe your customers asses after they shit, supposedly so they don't have to dirty their hands before returning to work or whatever they're doing. One day, a very large, bearded man runs in, ushering a stream of curses behind him with his belt already undone before he plops down over the seat. He barely closes the stall before a torrent of diarrhea is squirting out of him into the toilet. He's letting out very harsh grunts and groans that all accompany very wet, dirty ass sounds. Sometimes he even tries to cough to cover up his flatulence, but fails miserably and only ends up sounding gassier than before. Minutes pass by of this horrible display, and the stench permeates the room, which raises in temperature about 2 degrees as the man finishes up. Another couple minutes pass by, this time the only sound being the soft wet flexing of his asshole as he struggles to get any residual poop out. Finally, he calls you in.
You push open the stall door and find him standing with his back to you, his hairy ass out and bare, and a bit of mushy brown smeared on one of the cheeks and around his hole. He seems sheepish, probably a little embarrassed by the whole ordeal, and you glance over to the toilet to see a solid brown puddle of waste with chunks of shit mixed in like a forbidden broth. He squats down, and parts his ass cheeks to reveal his shitty hole, but as he does his hole gapes open wide, and a huge wet fart blasts out at an incredible force. The wet rag you were holding (wet to be sensitive on his worn butt) blows away a bit, but that doesnt seem to be it. The fart tapers off with a wet 'spplrrt' and a small amount of brown slips past his asshole as he clamps it shut. His thighs tremble and tense and he grunts, desperately whining,
"Oh god, I'm not done..." instantly his hole is forced open again by several long mushy turds, sliding out and slowly piling on the rag you held beneath him. You didnt dare say anything, too in shock and aroused as he bore down lower and grunted, now pushing wetter, chunkier diarrhea into your hands. It makes hideous, wet noises as it slowly spurts out, and he mumbles something of an apology before starting to move back over the seat, straddling it in a squat as his asshole squirts liquid poo all over the floor and the toilet.
turtleheading is an underrated scat thing and I can't get over it 😵💫 someone so desperate to go that their hole is already stretching out to accommodate the urgent turd that's fighting its way out, unable to close their own ass as they cling to their control. being split open by a giant log and they just have to keep a straight face even as they feel their cheeks parting. even better if it's a constipated load that they don't have to worry much about tightening their anus around, they just let it poke out with the confidence that it'll stay out for a while. imagine someone spending a day like that, going to work, acting completely fine while their poor hole is yawning around the blunt head of a massive shit they need to take, their hips aching a little with the width of it, maybe grinding their ass into their chair on occasion to push it back in and leaving marks on their underwear 👀🥴
Really wanna shit myself while sucking my girlfriend's clit. Knowing I need to, but focusing on that instead. Feeling that pressure in my ass making it harder and harder to focus on sucking her off. Trying to hold it in, at least until she cums. But I can't. And as I take her to the base, I lose my focus. I can't hold it anymore. And now I can feel it sliding out of me. I can't stop it. My panties are full, bulging from the weight of it all. But I'm still trying to make her cum, I won't stop until I can feel her splatter against the back of my throat.
Mating cycles were nothing new to Cora. About every month or so Cora layed eggs. He holes himself up somewhere for a few days and rides it out, no big deal. Normally, it’s not too difficult to curb his instinct to breed, but he has a cute little human to dote over now! Cora had been trying to convince his mate that he would looove having eggs stuffed in his tummy. His non-humans instincts leave him feeling so broody and desperate when the cycle fully hits. He foggily recalls literally groveling in front of his beloved life mate. Cora begged Wren to take his eggs, he needed to fill this boy up. More than anything he has needed in his life.
The first days of Cora’s mating cycle had been rough. The swollen slit that’s normally hidden under scales gave way to two twitching cocks, left on permanent display. He cant possibly retract them in this state. One cock functions as the ovipositor, and its become oh so swollen as the nagas cycle progresses. The base of the phallus and a patch of his tummy bulges slightly with eggs.
Cora whined from his position on the floor. Near tears as he took his humans hand and placed it on his tummy, showing Wren how full and achy he was. The human partner relents after seeing a few genuine pathetic tears slip from his beloved. He’s very nervous, however. They’ve hardly even experimented with anal! Now he’s just supposed to take a whole ovipositor up his ass AND eggs?? It’s intimidating to say the least. He does his best to keep his voice calm, but it still comes out tense and slightly shrill
“Where would they even go, Cora?!”
The naga does his best to explain, full navel and heat down below clouding his thoughts.
“We’re a very hardy species, the eggs just need some nutrients and a warm place to stay, they’ll make room- I promise.” He barely managed to gasp out.
Wren gave an amused snort, not missing the pride the statement is delivered with. He meets Cora on the floor, resting a hand on his scaly tummy again. Wren watches with fascination as Cora grunts and squirms a little. He felt resistance as he massaged the swollen area. If he pushed hard enough he could even feel the individual eggs. It really was interesting, Wren had so many questions he wanted to ask. However, even he realizes that his partner may not be in the right mind to do so. He continues his prodding, letting questions stew in his mind.
How many eggs were there?
How does Cora lay them?
He doesn’t do live birth, right? God he hoped not.
Did it hurt? Feel good?
An emerald green hand is suddenly wrapped around Wren’s wrist. Cora had a look of deep concentration on his face. His other hand is tightly gripping the base of his ovipositor. The human gasps as he watches Cora hold onto the eggs he so desperately wanted out.
“Please, I-ah!” The tendons in his hand flex as Cora pushes back against bulge of his cock. “I’ll be gentle, you’ll love it! I’ll take care of everything I just needyoutotakemyeggsnow.”
Wren can’t stand seeing his partner so desperate! A few eggs in his ass is worth it if it puts his beloved at peace. Humans don’t really have a…heat? So he can’t even imagine what poor Cora is going through. He steels himself and, after calming his boyfriend down, they move to the bedroom.
Cora is indeed very gentle, opening Wren up in the nicest of ways and taking things slow despite his clear desperation. It’s lovely and sweet and perfect but that part isn’t what we’re here for >:).
Wren gasps as the swelled base of an egg filled ovipositor pushes insistently at his rim. It’s intense, but he feels relaxed enough to take it. Cora watches with glassy eyes as, with a determined grunt, Wren pushes down and pops the rest in. His eyes are wide as he tries to both process the intrusion and look down triumphantly at Cora. It’s a rather bizarre expression. But Cora is in no state to tease. His patience has run out. The squeeze around his cock coaxes the first egg out before Wren even has time to adjust fully. All he can do is scramble for a hold on smooth scales while Cora grind up into Wren, letting out pleased hums as he works on pushing the rest into his mate. Cora’s lost in a haze of instincts. The satisfaction of finally breeding Wren, paired with the tightness leaving his lower half had him drooling against Wren’s neck. Cora was far too dazed to notice the humans struggle.
Wren is now fully wrapped up in his lovers lower half, chilly scales doing little to soothe the ache of egg after egg after egg being pushed into his tummy. They were about apple sized, and from what he’d seen from Cora in the past, a full clutch would be about 20. His eyes cross as he feels what he thinks is the twelfth push past his rim, the eggs all jostling each other as it bullies its way in. God, he’s so full, Wren squirms and tries to wriggle against Cora’s hold. He needs to get into a more comfortable position or get his hands on his stomach, anything to help with the pressure inside of him.
Another egg is starting to stretch his rim open.
“Cora! Cora…ghhn…full! Too full…”
The distress is immediately felt by the boa, he lets out small clicks as he readjusts Wren, placing the boy slightly on his back. Cora brings cold hands to the stretched skin in front of them. Pupils filling the expanse of their eyes as he tends to his partners discomfort. Cora’s hazy brain is telling him to massage upwards. Slightly rough pushes on Wren’s stomach are met with a rewarding wheeze. The eggs settle higher up, freeing up some space. Cora is on a mission to get his full clutch into his human; needs him as full as he’ll allow.
Wren groans as the ovipositor finally leaves his hole with a pop. He makes an attempt to move, but it’s met with a scolding hiss. Cora’s snake body coils tight, keeping him in place. His stomach is still being pushed and massaged. Cora seemed to want the eggs worked higher into his belly. Wren, ever the nerd, wonders why that is.
Maybe it’s easier for the eggs to get nutrients if they’re further up in my intestines?
Wren can feel them all shift around in his belly, he’s so full. He looks back up at his boyfriend; seeing what appeared to be a very happy snake through his heavily lidded eyes. They almost felt as heavy as his stomach. His body urges him to sleep as it attempts to adjust to the large clutch.
Cora gives a contented sigh. He watched his dozing human while continuing to palpate his belly. His now empty body practically sung in satisfaction, feeling more relief than any previous cycle had given Cora. He’s determined to give his partner the best care possible while he carries their clutch. Cora is a little clueless to how a human body would handle the process, though. Oops.
When Wren wakes, he finds he’s been lovingly tucked into bed. He feels so warm and heavy under all the blankets he’s been given, it’s impossible not to doze for a while longer. He curls onto his side to get more cozy. Well, attempts to.
“Oh god-mmf”
The movement caused last nights tryst to become blindingly apparent. Every egg seems to shift individually with the movement. Wren gasps and wraps an arm around his stomach, attempting to keep everything still. The eggs had him feeling so full! He knew what he was getting into, but would he feel this sluggish and weighed down for…how long even? How would he function like this?
His answer appears in a blur of scales. There is a clink of porcelain before cold hands steady him, moving his body out of the awkward twist he’d been stuck in.
“How are you feeling, love?”
The naga is looking rather anxious, eyes wide and mouth pulled into a grimace as they wait for an answer. This cycle had really done a number on his brain, what was he thinking! He hasn’t heard of reproduction with a human before, and didn’t have the slightest clue how his body would handle eggs! Cora had awoken to his swollen mate snoring in his curled up body and almost screamed. Half with joy and half with horror, he couldn’t believe he had gotten Wren to agree to this! A thorough search of the humans body showed no signs of injury, Cora gave a relieved sigh at that. If anything internal was damaged Wren surely wouldn’t be sleeping so….adorably. everything was okay so far.
The half snake shakes off the train of thought when a miserable groan interrupts him.
“Full…” the human barely has the energy to mumble as his partner props some pillows behind him.
“Oh honey, why did you let me do this to you?” Cora coos, wanting to hear how he felt before letting any excitement show.
“Mm, you were hurting, want’d to help” his mate gives a weak smile, speech slurred with sleep.
“You are so very brave” the naga placed a kiss on Wren’s forehead “I’ll take the best care of you to make up for this, speaking of-“ a warm bowl of soup is in the boas hands, and he holds it out to Wren. He pales at the idea of stuffing anything into himself in this state. “You need to eat.” His partner is frowning, confused by his reluctance to feed. He should be starving! They just spent a mating cycle together and he had eggs he needed to nourish! That should work up a crazy appetite no matter the species.
Wren sighs and relents to the nagas caretaking urges. With his partners help, he sits up and takes the food. Wren is horrified to feel his stomach growl at the smell of the soup. It seems like his mind is the only thing that has any qualms about how packed his body is. The soup is warm and healing and everything in his body screams at him to take more, but the weight in his stomach is telling his brain too full too full it’s too much! It takes a long time, but eventually the bowl is empty and Cora is satisfied.
“The eggs are in my stomach, lizard brain, I’m really fucking full.” Wren is finally able to remind him now that he’s feeling a little less frantic. Cora hisses in embarrassment and apologizes to the human, obviously that’s why he’s not hungry!
“We’ll go slower next time, but you really do need to eat. It’s good for all of you” he smiles proudly and places a hand on Wren’s belly. Their toothy smile drops when he feels a gurgle from underneath his palm. The human groans and bends forward as much as his body will allow. It doesn’t hurt, but his guts are clearly doing some weird shit. The human body doesn’t really expect solids in the stomach like this after all. He takes a moment to really look at himself. His belly is pushed out a good bit, but the swell looks far too gentle in contrast to how stuffed he feels. The next month was going to be intense
Wren needed help with everything now. Getting anywhere around the house required the addition of one overeager boa at his side. The eggs are their own issue, the weight sitting heavy in his rounded stomach. They make him feel lethargic and every movement has him breathless, each egg shifting with him. But he has another problem…
His partner is somehow, too doting? Anytime he feels like he might be getting used to the eggs- large, homemade meals are nearly forced down his throat. Cora is insistent on making sure he and their clutch get enough food. Resisting is not on the table. He won’t act like he hates it though, the naga is practically his shadow now. Coaxing him to bed, keeping him fed, entertaining him in cheesy displays that show just how well Cora knows him. Last night Wren had been too aware of the eggs to sleep, and Cora had put on some of his favorite nature documentaries. Wren was only able to sleep once the sun had started to peek through the horizon. It was nice, to be taken of so thoroughly.
Wren has another unfortunate problem. With the clutch growing in his stomach, it is making other…processes, more difficult. He does his best to muffle the sounds of his predicament. But when he has to uh, use the bathroom, his body needs to push his waste passed the eggs in his stomach. It’s a mortifying sensation, he has to push embarrassingly hard to get anything out; and when he does, he feels the eggs settle back down in his guts to take up the extra room. Some gasps and heaves will make their way past his clenched fingers, and Cora is right at the door. Nervously questioning if he’s feeling alright. He’s always a few strides away from him, It’s a wonder he can even use the bathroom alone. Wren desperately hopes he can keep this gross bit of the process to himself.
He has no such luck, of course. By about week three, the eggs seemed to have taken up most of the room in his stomach. He was horrified to find he could no longer pass anything one morning. Wren strained for hours in an attempt to rid his body of the full feeling he had felt upon waking. Nothing moved. He sighed and cleaned up, holding his stomach as he heaved himself off of the toilet. I just have another week, he tells himself with a deep breath, I just need to keep this to myself till then.
Turns out, acting normal in front of your partner when your body is stuffed with eggs and shit, is incredibly hard. He curses inwardly every time he’s a little too snappy with Cora, hoping he attributes it to the eggs. He feels like a damn ballon as he lays in Cora’s curled up tail on the couch. His belly presses heavily against his body; he’s spent the last few minutes squirming to find a comfortable way to lay.
Cora is chatting mindlessly, clearly picking up on his mates sour mood, hoping to remedy it. He hisses in sympathy when he wiggles around on Cora’s body. Clearly the eggs are a lot for poor Wren, but he can certainly help! It’s his job as a proper naga after all. He observes for another minute, taking note of which parts of the humans body seemed the most uncomfortable. From the way Wren groaned when he lay back a little too fast, his stomach seemed to be the biggest problem. Duh. Cora lowered their head down to kiss at his mates neck, reaching hands around taut skin as he did. The shift put Wren in a more upright position. The skin of his belly felt warm to the touch, practically thrumming with life. Cora smiles giddily as they rub small circles on the lower part of Wren’s tummy, and then lifts a little. The noise the human releases at that has their ears flaming red. He sounded almost pleasured by the weight being lifted from his body. Cora guessed that made sense, the eggs must be putting a lot of strain on him. He ignores the flustering arousal and continues massaging and lifting swollen flesh. He hoped he was being good enough for his human.
Wren was in heaven. The weight of his stuffed middle being supported even just a little was blissful. His hips and spine no longer felt like they were being crushed, and the cool hands massaging his heated skin were a soothing balm. He couldn’t even attempt to contain his noises, Cora was treating him like a damn stress ball. He would lift Wren’s belly this way and that, seeming to note which actions bought the most relief. Each jostle and rub moved the eggs in him, the feeling of them shifting inside his body was truly bizarre. Not unpleasant, though. It almost felt like his inside were being massaged too. His vision goes blurry as he rests his head against Cora’s chest, smiling blearily in thanks. He looked back warmly, lifting the bottom of his belly with one hand and pressing his palm against the top of his belly at the same time.
The movement dislodges something. Wren tenses up, feeling a bubbles of gas sludge through his intestines. Lazily making its way down now that it’s been given space to move. It brings a nasty gurgle with it, loudly groaning right where his partners palm sits.
Cora cocks their head at this, not really putting together that the eggs are causing some digestive upset. He dutifully continues rubbing nonetheless, the noise worrying him.
Wren’s in a rough spot. His guts were cramping in a way that signaled an urgent need for the toilet, but he was held fast in Cora’s coiling frame. And his hands felt so, so nice on his belly. The idea of leaving that warmth and struggling alone in the cold bathroom made him tear up a little.
Does incubating eggs make you hormonal? Whatever, not important right now.
He clenches his bottom the best he can, hiding his face in Cora’s chest as he literally feels his asshole tremble against the pressure.
Another watery groan from beneath Cora’s hands makes the snake frown. Wren’s body was handling the eggs okay, right? He can’t recall his own species bodies reacting like this. Snake anatomy was a little more equipped for handling eggs, though. Cora wonders what’s going on in their poor humans tummy. He will ask once he’s feeling better. He pressed into the humans flesh a bit harder, feeling successful when the sloshy sound moves lower. That has to help, right? Wren isn’t providing much feedback, but judging from the way he seemed to push his whole body back into Cora’s lap, desperately seeking more contact, he had to be doing something right.
“Noooo…”
it’s the first actual word he’s heard from Wren while on the couch.
“Hey, talk to me love, what’s going on?” The boa speaks quietly, like they were soothing a scared animal. The response he gets is a miserable whine and a vibration against the snake half of his body.
It had come from…Wren?
He’s currently trembling against Cora’s chest, the noise apparently a breaking point for his ailing mate.
“My tummy hurts…” he sounds so small as he mumbles the words into his chest. Cora feels his heart shatter. He attempt to soothe Wren, guilt thick in his voice.
“Are the eggs hurting you? I’m so, so sorry love, I really should have thought this through better” they tsk and bring both arms under their mates belly, lifting up in what they hope is a comforting gesture.
“That-ghh! That’s not it, it’s not the eggs..ahh” another long rumble tickles Cora’s scales, Wren gives a defeated whimper. “Reminder that they’re in my stomach, idiot. I can’t um..use the bathroom like this. They’re too big…” Wren feels like he can’t possibly embarrass himself further; it boldens his complaints. “And it doesn’t help that you’re constantly feeding me either! It’s like you don’t even know how…”
Well, I guess he wouldn’t know how human anatomy works, Wren thinks. Snakes work a little different.
He’s caught between smacking himself in the head and giggling in relief. Cora thought the eggs were killing his poor mate! It was just some digestive trouble! That was certainly something Cora could handle. He won’t lie and say he’s not curious anyhow, a humans digestive system seems to work quite differently from his. Wren has never been very keen to answer invasive questions about human bathroom habits, though. And Cora was so ready to answer all of Wren’s questions about naga! So unfair. Cora coos and gently releases Wren’s egg filled stomach, swiftly removing his pants and underwear before he can protest.
“Just listen to your body, okay? Nothing to be embarrassed about.” Cora nuzzles against his cheek while moving his hands down, eager to help now that they know what’s hurting his beloved mate.
Wren has never been more embarrassed in his life. Sharp-nailed fingers are currently pulling his cheeks apart as he lets another uncontrollable fart loose. He swears he feels the eggs take up more space in his guts as he’s forced to deflate. The next few toots leave his face burning as Cora pushes a finger directly against his gassy hole. He sounds fascinated by the nasty things Wren’s body is doing. Each burst of gas is met with a hum, like he’s just told his boyfriend a particularly interesting fact.
Cora learns that having one hand rubbing circles into Wren’s taught tummy, and using the other to spread apart his mates cheeks is what gives the best results. The rubs feel a little rough to Cora, but the way Wren is biting back groans and melting into his arms shows he’s doing things right. Wren still hasn’t excreted, though. He had said his tummy being backed up is what was hurting him, so Cora fully intended to help with that. But his human doesn’t seem close to producing any waste. Wren needed something else.
“You need to use the bathroom, yes? Why aren’t you going? Is there another way I can help?”
Wren is far too busy exploding to answer. He’d given up on holding anything in. God, it was mortifying. He’d been giving test pushes after every expulsion, seeing if anything solid would start to move. No such luck.
“That’s kind of private, love…” not really expecting to have to explain to Cora that shitting in front of each other isn’t really a normal human thing to do. He couldn’t even if he wanted anyways. “It’s uhm, behind the eggs anyway, I think.”
“Ohhh, so you’ll need help once you lay the eggs?” His eyes are wide and earnest as they look down at the human, really meaning it when he said he would do anything to help.
Wren tried to keep the tummy trouble incidents to a minimum after that. Which, fortunately or unfortunately for him, was not an issue after that. Cora’s massage seemed to coax any extra space out of his guts. So now the eggs sat heavy in his belly with what was surely an absurd amount of shit behind it. Cora did not slow down on the excessive meals, insisting that Wren still needed the energy to keep healthy and for the laying. He did work with him on what meals were made, however. They settled on more BRAT diet type foods, rather than the usual calorically dense meals that would better suit an athlete the night before a marathon. It sat much nicer in Wren’s tummy. He still felt terribly stuffed, but none of the cramps and gas from earlier were making a reappearance. All he could do now was waddle around and wait until the eggs decided they were ready. Cora seems very pleased with himself. Attending to Wren’s every need with a bright smile stretching his lips. Fangs poking out from the stretched skin.
Cute. Wren thinks as Cora brings him a heating pad.
Wren wakes a few nights later drenched in sweat, unsure what woke him untill a sharp stab in his stomach has him crying out. His knees curl into his body the best they can; he finds himself mindlessly going into a downward dog sort of position to relive the pain. He grunts against the next wave of pain, gasping when he feels something shift down.
It’s finally time, then. Wren slaps at the nagas sleeping form the best he can, waves of contractions not really allowing him to move from his position. Cora is up in a flash, immediately moving them to a nest like pile of blankets he had set up the night before. Wren had been too sleepy to question the behavior at the time, but was endlessly grateful when he was guided to kneel in the middle of it. The blankets cushioned his knees nicely. A few moans slipped out as the kneeling position urged everything to move down. This felt much more natural. He leans against Cora in their nest as his sleepy brain does it’s best to process the start of his laying.
As he wakes up a bit more, he registers his partner cooing at him. gentle encouragements and assurances that he was doing amazing. His body was doing what it needed to do. It helped Wren feel a little less scared when he felt the first egg push at his sphincter. He still couldn’t help but gasp, though. The noise morphing into a strangled groan as he clenched and pushed everything back up.
“Hey, no fighting love. You need to let them out, try pushing.” Cora’s sweet voice held him like a vice, his brain turning to mush as he focused on pushing. He needed to push. Wren didn’t fight the next wave and felt muted horror as his rim parted around a smooth egg. The strongest cramp yet grips his guts and suddenly Wren is stretched around the largest part of the egg. He pushes hard, and the first egg pops free and lands neatly in the pile of blankets. A quiet cheer from his partner has him smiling, leaning against him as he feels more building pressure in his ass.
Cora is entranced. feeling nothing but adoration as he watches Wren lay the first few eggs.
The way his hole holds tightly onto each one before it pops out.
The way it twitches a little after and puffs back out as a new egg makes its way down.
It’s mesmerizing.
He loves seeing his mate work so hard. Cora mumbles something about keeping him full like this forever before his mind can filter the thought.
“God, no, please. Mmuhhn- my body can’t handle that.” Cora frowned. His body seemed to be handling it perfectly thank you very much. Wren was a perfect incubator!
An hour passes without another egg showing, and with 17 in their nest, the naga declares that Wren is empty. He hardly feels empty, though. Still felt like there was junk high up in his guts. He was far too delirious to remember his constipation problem, he just wanted to be empty.
“Can you check please?” He presses his tummy in Cora’s direction with a pout. He’s more than happy to check. Cora pulls the human into his curled up lap and begins to poke at his belly. He massages at a stiff area in Wren’s upper stomach, only now remembering his stomach issues. Cora declines to inform his mate, selfishly not wanted Wren to scramble away from him. This wasn’t any different than laying! He was determined to help with this as well, it was technically Cora’s fault anyhow.
Wren is oblivious to Cora’s intentions, simply enjoying the massage on his sore abdominal muscles. He’d spent a good couple hours laying, and gladly welcomed the attention to his body. A foreboding glorp from his guts brings him back, however. Wren gasps, only now remembering his problem. He’s paralyzed as his tummy cramps hard, bringing tears to his eyes. He’s stuck on his knees in front of Cora while his guts push a massive dump towards his ass. The second the cramp releases, he stands on wobbly legs in an attempt to escape. The human rushes to the bathroom door, hearing a suprised yelp from behind him. Only staggering a few steps away from the nest before his legs give in.
“Stay away pleashhhn” his face is red and twisted with effort. “I wanna be alone, there’s no more eggs! Can you bring m-mmggh!” Wren doubles over with a groan. “Bathroom…please..” are the last words he can get out before his body decides it’s had enough.
“I’m helping, you’re in no state to be left alone right now. No need to be so stubborn, Wren.” Cora is gentle as he wraps the snake part of his body around Wren’s middle, hoping the pressure would help. His ass is still out, leaving room for prying fingers as Cora assesses the situation. Wren appears to be pushing very very hard, but they see nothing. Maybe it was similar to being egg bound? Cora had some lube ready if something similar were to happen to the human. It seems he would need it for a slightly different reason. He properly wets his fingers for the task, and squeezes some of the liquid into Wren just for good measure. He pushes immediately at the intrusion. He wants everything out, not in! A small slick noise is made as Wren’s hole gapes around nothing.
The boa scrunches his nose in concentration, pinprick eyes focused solely on his mates struggle. An inquiring finger is pushed against twitching muscle. He wants to gauge the humans reaction before he does anything. Feeling no resistance, he sinks his finger in. The muscle loose and relaxed from the eggs. Cora’s finger finds a solid mass when he reaches up to his second knuckle. Another egg? No, this must be Wren’s waste. Much more solid than a snakes would be. He feels a twang of sympathy at that; it must be hard work for Wren to have to pass this daily.
“It’s stuck” Wren mumbles, resigned to his humiliating fate. He hears a chuckle behind him, it makes his face burn even hotter.
“I can see that” Cora smiles gently while he attempts to massage the muscle that was gripping onto the hard mass. Every now and then his mates body would go taut in his hold, and strain even harder and louder than when he was laying the eggs. The boa’s eyes widen, the poor guy needed to push harder to get this out? No wonder bathroom stuff was so private to humans. He decides to give him a very gentle, constricting squeeze on his next push. Hoping the added pressure on his stomach would move things along. Wren shrieked in response.
“Ow ow ow! It’ssnnggh-huurts! M’stomach hurtsss” he writhed in the boa’s hold, but Cora held fast as he watched the progress the squeeze bought. His mates hole was now being held open by a dark, firm shape. A touch confirmed it was quite hard, almost like a stone. Wren held tight around the protrusion. The irregular bumps and edges seemed to make this a lot harder to pass than the smooth shell of an egg. Cora soothed around a bulging bit of skin above Wren’s anus. Cora found that pushing on it moved the waste the tiniest bit out. It was something at least.
“You can do it, almost there love.”
Wren didn’t have the energy to inform him that this was far from the end. The stuffed sensation in his gut telling him he had a lot of shit to get rid of, literally. His asshole aches around the log that’s holding him open, each push only popping a few bumpy inches further. Another few rhythmic squeezes to his stomach help, functioning sort of like added peristalsis. Wren gasps, more waste feels like it’s piling at his sphincter. But that first log held everything in. The human whines as his guts gurgle in protest, rolling from deep within his stomach to up his throat. He has to muffle a few burps, the gas having nowhere else to go.
“Wren, I think you need to stand up. Let’s walk for a bit.” The boa winces as his mate barks a harsh laugh in response, which morphs into a groan. Cora watches with a furrowed brow as he pushes again. The waste doesn’t even move, just twitches pitifully as his anus bulges.
“I think it’ll help get things moving” he speaks gently. It would help sometimes when his own kind were egg bound. Cora lifts Wren up, not wanting him to waste energy on speaking. The human submits and awkwardly waddles next to the boa, each step forward making his rim twist around the poop. Inching it out slightly. They walk down the stairs together, Wren trying not to pay any mind to the fact that this was working. He’d left a few pebbles behind at the top of the stairs, and did his best a grunt quietly as more poop made an appearance.
Wren collapses as soon as they reach the bottom. Falls to his knees, belly heaving. Cora is relieved to look behind him and see a much larger mass than before. He watches curiously as a big push finally gets it all out. It thuds to the floor, the rest of the excrement looking much smoother and easier to get out. The boa breathes a sigh of relief. Finally, it’s over. He’s about to reassure Wren again before a strained gasp interrupts him.
“No…”
the word comes out pleading and strained as Wren somehow manages to get his legs back underneath him. Once again only making it a few steps before falling back down in a pitiful display. He’s braced against the bathroom door before Cora can reach him. He gasps as he approaches and sees their poor, poor humans anus start to widen again.
“Uunnggh get oUT! Wren is frantic again, but Cora just watches as a small pile starts to plop under the humans bottom. This waste seems to be a lot less work, But there was so much of it. He watches as Wren’s stomach heaves every few seconds, adding coil after coil to the mound. Cora approaches cautiously, bending down to where Wren has his sweaty forehead pressed against the door. Too preoccupied grunting out another wave to react. It’s gotten even softer, making small splats as it dribbles on top of everything else. Cora places their back against the bathroom door, so he can put his hands back on the humans stomach, which was much less round now.
“Look at me please”
Wren whines as a runny shart bursts out of him. He hated how close Cora has been for all of this this.
Why wasn’t he disgusted? Why did he keep helping even when he was in such a gross state?
Cora does his best to answer his unsaid questions, holding his belly and kissing his forehead. Soon there was nothing but pure diarrhea leaving Wren’s stomach. It smelled terribly and stained the tile floor with splattering patterns. Cora let Wren lean against him as his body finally settled down, whispering that he’d have him set up in bed with the eggs after this. Would bring him whatever he wanted. Take care of anything he needed. Nothing was too gross for him. As long as his mate was happy.
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mutt w an oral fixation, always tryna get his mouth on his owners bulge, rubbing his face against it, licking it, whining quietly as he bites at the fabric of owners pants.
Yipping w excitement when owner finally pulls down his pants n lets mutt suck on him. Eager, slobbering n gagging all over it, barely even taking a moment to breathe. The mutt js loves his owners cock so much!!
Knowing your stomach is gurgling and aching for relief but cruelly taking the long scenic route home and stopping for sudden last minute errands. All the while you squirm and whine. Occasionally you forget yourself and tell me to hurry, which naturally only gets you a stern look in response. I also ensure that I go ever so slightly slower with every repetition. It's a good thing I had the foresight to diaper you. I think you'll be needing it.
A fictional story of a messing accident in first person.
CW: desperation, loss of control, public embarrassment, messing, scat, bodily functions
I was leaning against Linnéa's car. It had broken down, and we were waiting for her cousin to come pick us up.
The view of the farmlands around us would have been pretty great if I was able to pay attention. I really wasn't.
My gut was screaming at me. I needed to shit so damn badly. I was genuinely considering just stepping out to the side of the road, pulling down my pants and squatting there... But no. Cars were passing all the time, and I still hoped we could get home in time. It would be less than a 10-minute drive from where we were until I was home. As soon as the cousin could get here.
I was leaning against her car. The way I stood wasn't cool, suave, or relaxed. I was squirming, standing there with my head buried in my arms, facing the side of the car slightly hunched over. Standing up straight was out of the question. My legs were pressed tightly enough together that I thought I would grind through the fabric, or set it on fire or something. My feet refused to stay still, but at the same time walking felt impossible too.
Most of the time in the car it had been okay. I mean, I still needed to poop badly, but most of the time it was just a distraction. But in the half hour since the car stopped the cramps had come. They were a different matter. Every now and then, every minute maybe—or perhaps every ten seconds, I was too desperate to really keep track of time at this point—a new cramp would twist my stomach, and the pressure against the inside of my asshole would magnify. And when the cramps came, I had to fight hard not to squat down. I had made that mistake early on, and was now fighting to keep standing.
In between cramps, I almost felt like I could relax, let my tired muscles rest, but I found that even a moment without clenched muscles meant a new cramp started. I had been lured into that twice already. All I could do during the cramps was to try to resist squatting, press my ass cheeks together and pray that I was strong enough. I had been so far.
Linnéa could tell how desperate I was, and I think it made her uncomfortable. She hadn't said anything about it and she pretended not to see me. She said something about how her cousin would be here soon. I wasn't really listening.
A new cramp had struck, and to my horror, I felt my asshole begin to give way. I felt the shit forcing its way out. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening! I squeezed for all I was worth, focused all I had on it. The seductive urge to let go was almost overwhelming, but I couldn't do that! So clenching my butt cheeks, one hand pressed against my rear, I tried my absolute hardest to hold it.
And... I did.
I managed to force the turtlehead back in, and I held on for the rest of the cramp. I stood there, panting, my legs quivering, the relief of having made it through that cramp fading as the realization hit that my sphincter was exhausted. I was exhausted. I didn't think I would be able to handle the—
Oh god, the next cramp was coming already. I felt the pressure build against my asshole again, and just like a few moments ago, I felt the hole begin to dilate. The reflex was simply too strong; despite what I wanted, my legs bent and spread as I half-squatted where I stood, and against my will, my body pushed. I whimpered—whined really—as I felt the log force its way past my pressed-together butt cheeks. Sticky and... so warm. Way warmer than I had expected. It just felt wrong.
I can't believe that even at that point, I was deluding myself that I wasn't shitting my pants, but when I felt the strange sensations of my panties tugging at me, as they were being stretched out from within, then I knew, then I had to admit to myself; I was pooping my pants in front of my best friend. Just as I had thought this, the log cut off with an ugly sound, and smushed itself into my panties as it settled just under my ass, but my body wasn't done.
A second push followed immediately on the first, going smoother now that the first one had cleared the way. It strained against the tight cloth and began to spread. I just gave up at that point and... just let it happen. The relief from that was a horrible feeling. But it was relief. The shit filled the seat of my pants with a horrible sticky sound, but by now I was just too worn out to care; all that filled my head now was the knowledge that I no longer needed to hold it.
Eventually, probably just a couple of minutes later, but I honestly couldn't tell, it stopped, but it felt almost as if it wasn't because I was done pooping, but instead because my pants were just so full that there was no more space for waste in them. Oh god, even a small movement caused the whole mass to shift. How could it feel so heavy?
My mind just felt empty. I had just... done that. In my pants. I almost didn't believe it. But I had, hadn't I? Ugh... it was already cooling. That was even worse than the warmth.
I heard Linnéa coming a little closer—she must've stepped back when I was... busy. I hadn't noticed—before she stammered out, with a hesitant voice, that the car was almost here. And then she asked it;
Urg pressure is building in my bottom, I'm going to poop soon. I want to feel this for a while though so I'm holding it. I want to wait until it's unbearable and I have no choice but to push something out. At the moment it's crampy but bearable.
It's a constant ache in my rectum now and belly starting to cramp more. I could go and push my poopies out now but I want to hold. I am about to go into a meeting online and really should try and shit before. But I want to hold. I wish I was over someone's lap right now, my fave place to be desperate in.
Oh fuck, I really need to shit now. I need to go and I can't atm. I want to make myself cum and piss myself while holding my poop, but I'm in a meeting. I need to hold everything. Please send encouragement! It's cramping!
Eased off a little, I can hold a bit longer. Going to try and nap and maybe go sit when I wake. I let some farts out which was nice and relieving. My belly is gently grinding higher up which will add to my load if I wait longer and I love a big dump.
Really into the idea of someone going to urgent care or the ER because they genuinely haven’t pooped in so long and are in immense pain. A is scared, not necessarily because they haven’t pooped, but because they know they’ll have to poop eventually, and whatever comes out won’t come out easily.
They’ve been sitting in the waiting area for a couple hours, breathing deeply and trying to relax and ignore the stabbing pains in their gut, when they feel a tiny stirring of movement somewhere inside. It’s a sensation like something is slowly descending, working its way through their body. No fucking way, they think. No way is my body finally going to cooperate while I’m literally in the hospital waiting room. They turn to their friend B.
“I think…I need the bathroom,” A says.
B makes a sympathetic face. “I know. The doctor will see us soon and hopefully get you some medicine to help!”
A shakes their head. “No, like. I think it’s coming now.” They swallow and cross their legs tight. The feelings of panic are getting more intense as a different kind of pain starts cramping their rectal and anal muscles. Their entire lower belly is getting sore and sensitive.
B’s eyes widen. “Oh…” they both look over to the public bathroom and see an OUT OF ORDER tacked to the door. B stands up and walks over to the desk. “Hi, is there any chance my friend can use a bathroom somewhere while we’re waiting?”
The nurse shakes her head. “We ask that patients refrain from using the toilet in case the doctor needs a urine or stool sample for diagnosis.”
“No, you don’t understand, my friend came here solely because they couldn’t poop, but they’re about to, so if we can just find a bathroom we won’t need to see the doctor,” B explains in a rush.
The nurse shakes her head again. “I’m sorry, they’re already checked in. You can leave the hospital to find another restroom but you’d have to check back in if you came back.”
B groans and looks around desperately, then returns to their seats. A is sitting straight up in their chair, holding their knees together, grimacing with sweat beading on their forehead. “I can’t fucking believe it’s coming right now, of all times,” they whine. “It’s been WEEKS. Why now?!”
“They don’t have a bathroom we can use,” B says worriedly.
“Are you serious?” A goes pale and grips the chair arms tightly. B nods.
A looks at the busy waiting room at the number of bored people sitting around. They whine slightly and bounce their knees. “It hurts so bad. I feel sick.”
“We can leave,” B says. “We can drive somewhere and find a public restroom.”
“What if I don’t make it?” A says, whimpering. “If I stand up, let alone walk, I don’t know if I’ll be able to…” they gulp. “Hold it in.”
“You’ve been holding it for weeks, just wait a few more minutes,” B says, helping A to their feet. The moment their bottom leaves the chair they gasp and let out little whines of pain, thrusting themselves forward to bend at the waist.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” they whisper. B holds their shoulders and looks worriedly around the waiting room. No one is looking at them, not yet.
“Small steps, easy steps, come on now,” B urges A forward towards the front doors, which seem so far away. A inches forward, still bent double, breathing in and out deeply. “Just breathe.”
They are starting to attract glances. Every few inches, A stops dead in their tracks, their entire body tensed and quivering. “I’m trying, I’m trying to stop it,” they whine into their hands. “It’s getting harder.”
“Try to focus on something else,” B says, knowing the situation is becoming hopeless. A middle aged woman sitting feet away is watching with curiosity. An older man a couple seats down from her is laughing softly, watching them over the top of a magazine. No one seems to be taking this as seriously as A and B. B tries to ignore them.
Then, in the middle of the waiting area, in full view of everyone, A wails. “OUCH!! Oh my god, my stomach, OW!” Without thinking, only in a desperate attempt to ease their pain, A drops to their knees and falls forward onto their hands, their bum hanging inches above the ground. “B, I’m gonna-“ suddenly A’s voice deepens and goes gravelly, like their throat is constricted. “Oh, it’s coming.” A stares blankly at the tile floor, oblivious to anything and everyone around them, and feels their entire abdomen clench in on itself, squeezing a fat monster poop toward their anus. The let a moan leave their lips. The sensation of pushing relieves the pain briefly, but it returns as soon as they catch their breath.
“You can still make it,” B hisses. “Come on, stand up. You can hold it in, let’s just make it outside, come on, you can do it.” They look around. They’re drawing much attention now. Rather than concerned, onlookers seem mildly entertained, even pleased to see someone besides themselves in distress in the hospital waiting room. The older man has moved closer and is bent over slightly in his seat, eyes fixed on A’s bottom inches from the ground like he’s checking if an accident has already happened. “Can you please mind your business??” B snaps. The man ignores them.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” A whines, attempting to lift themselves up off their knees. They remain bent double, but with one hand pressed between their buttcheeks. They can feel the muscles around their opening twitching and tightening. B helps them move a couple more feet towards the front door.
Then, a wave of sickening heat hits A in the face and cascades down their body. Their vision forms a tunnel. Their ears start to ring. Suddenly they shake themselves free of B’s grasp. A’s shaking fingers grip at the waistband of their pants and start tugging them down. A feels themselves drop into a squat as their bare bottom faces the busy waiting room. The moment their full weight presses into the squat, a furiously urgent push forces a guttural grunt out of their mouth. Then they feel it — the weeks-old poop starts to enter the world. A feels cool air on their anus as it begins unwrinkling, gaping open for everyone to see.
“A, A come on, you can still-“ B watches, horror-struck, one hand on A’s upper back and the other clapped over their own mouth. From above, they can see the muscles of A’s body bearing down in extreme, rhythmic effort. It’s too late. It’s happening. The older man and the middle aged woman are laughing quietly, like this is a sitcom rerun. People from across the room are muttering to themselves, catching glances.
A nurse runs over unfolding a pee pad. She places it under A’s bottom and then brings over a package of wet wipes and hands them to B. “Do you have any curtains or privacy dividers we can borrow for just a couple minutes??” B whispers to the nurse desperately. She makes a sympathetic face.
“I looked, they’re all in use,” she says. “If you think your friend can move a couple more feet, we can try to shield them behind the desk?”
“A, sweetie, let’s try moving again,” B pipes up. They look down at A, who’s shivering in a squat position. A shakes their head silently. B pulls on their arms but A is very still.
“They’re not moving,” B tells the nurse. The nurse pales and nods. She walks away to try and distract the other patients, but A is making too much of a scene.
Instinctually, A starts pulling their pants all the way off, breathing heavy, sweating like a hog. They toss their pants aside and then their body decides it’s time to get serious. They take in a quick, deep, shaky breath and then push, the kind that announces itself with little repetitive grunts like hnng hnng hnnnnng. “It’s coming out,” they gasp, as their anus crackles all the way open, stretched and taut. B sees the blunt head of a dry, clustered stool poking out millimeter by millimeter. It retreats in and thrusts out with every guttural noise of effort from A. “Oh my god. It’s happening. I’m g-going,” A sounds petrified with shame and desperation, their voice half-strained. They stare straight forward not focused on anything, unaware that people directly across the room are watching their face twist up in effort. They can barely sense anything happening except their body’s involuntary process. “Oh my god I don’t want to poop,” they grunt as the first inch of their poop breaches their ring and begins filling the air with weeks-old stink. Then, in a whiny strained tone, “I’m pooping. I’m going poop- hmmmgggng-“ they bend forward even further, sticking their bottom upward into the air as a contraction takes hold of their muscles. “Please don’t look, hide me,” A moans as they suddenly become aware of their surroundings. They look desperately at B. “Hide me,” they beg again.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry, there’s nowhere to hide you,” they say gently. A moans fearfully and tries to bury their face in their elbow.
“So much p-poop,” A groans as they submit to their body’s urge to push again. They grunt, bear down, and feel their anus stretch around the widest section of their stool. It hurts, but there’s a slight pleasure in it, a distinct relief at being forced open while expelling waste. They mutter nonsensical, childlike observations like chants: “I’m going, I’m going, I’m going,” then, “I’m making poop, I’m finally pooping.”
Fat, dry chunks thud onto the pee pad. With every piece loosened, another wide log slides forward to take its place. B rubs their hand over A’s back as they watch, still horrified but grateful for their friend finding relief. “Gotta push,” A sputters out when another absurdly thick stool slowly stretches out their ring. “Gotta push. Pushinggg…” A choked grunt comes from their throat. B leans back to check their friend’s progress and tries to ignore the onlookers, who are murmuring more than even. B watches the pebbled tip of the log press into the pee pad with A’s long, drawn out push. “You’re doing so good,” B says. “You’re pushing it all out. Keep pushing.”
A is panting like a dog when the log snaps off and thumps down. “It’s g-getting easier,” they say. “I think…almost done…” they readjust their stance, then grab B by the arm and look up at them. B watches how A’s eyes subtly unfocus, how their lips part just slightly while they bear down. A feels a smoother, still fat and solid poop slide out of them. “Hnnngngm…” they grunt while B smiles at them. “My bottom is so sore,” they say through deep breaths. “Okay, one more push I think.”
B watches A draw in a breath and then go still, red in the face, making eye contact with a random nurse across the room. “There it is,” they grunt. A slow, wide log drops to the ground.
The nurses help clean up A’s mess and then B and A leave the hospital sheepishly. A sleeps the whole way home, one hand on their now-empty belly.
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A is laying in bed, surrounded by cozy blankets watching his favorite cartoons beside B. “Hey A, I have to take a shower, it might be a bit, i have to get ready for work.” B says before leaving the room. A is now alone, watching TV when his stomach begins to bubble uncomfortably, and his butt begins to vibrate on cue. “Fuck.. I need to fart so badly… good thing B’s gone” A says before lifting up their side and allowing a warm, bubbly fart to escape and relieve some of their stomach pain. “Oh yeah.. there it is. That felt really good.” A said, softly rubbing his lower belly. As A continued to be swaddled in warm blankets, surrounded by pillows and plushies, he continued to feel his ass vibrate violently with every chance it got, telling him he’s gonna need to release a lot more farts. “Oh god finally here it comes—!” A says before he allows a wet, super bubbly fart to be released, soft moans escaping his breath as his stomach was again relieved. Eventually, A was releasing farts second after second, with each one becoming bubblier, hotter, and wetter as he continued to push. “Oh god, these farts are getting wetter.. I definitely have diarrhea.” A said as his ass continued to vibrate soft sounds, almost like a warning. “Oh god, my stomach really hurts, I hope B can get done soon.” A said, desperation peaking at his lips. Eventually A was too overwhelmed by the pain and wanted to risk allowing a few more farts to escape, as he began to lift his right cheek. “Easy… Easy…” A says as he begins to push. A long, hot, silent diarrhea fart is released, that gave A a much needed relief he deserved. Despite that however, his ass continued to vibrate for a continued release, telling him he needed to let out more. “Ugh fuck.. I really need to poop.. maybe if I slowly allow it to happen, it will be an easier cleanup.. I just cannot hold it any longer.” A says as he lifts up his right cheek once more. The diarrhea slowly begins to flow out of A, slowly but surely, allowing stifled moans and grunts to escape A’s mouth while he comfortably enjoys his release. “Mmmm… it’s finally happening..” A says quietly as their eyes close in comfort and relaxation, as his stomach ache begins to dull. A hears a creak from the bedroom door, and looks to check what it is. Turns out, it’s B, who was secretly watching the whole time.
His body was a like a drawn bow, tense and shaking as he tried his hardest not to give in to the pressure building against his asshole.
“Stop fighting it. You stuffed yourself like a pig and now you have to squeeze it all out. Whether you like it or not.”
Sweat beaded at his hairline. His tummy rumbled and shook like a machine on its last legs. He threw back his head, grimacing at the ceiling, as a thick fart bubbled out from between his sweat-slicked cheeks.
“Oh, it’s happening. You’re gonna poop your pants, huh? You’ve been holding it for too long. Just let it happen, okay?”
He shook his head and whined.
“Here… let me feel your belly.”
You knelt and gently held his gut in both hands, feeling the weight of it. Feeling gas roll through in ripples.
“God, you’re so full. I bet if I pushed just a little…”
He gasps as you sink your palms in as far as his plump gut will allow. There’s not a lot of give. But it’s enough to force a low, hot, growling fart into the seat of his pants. It was the final fart before his body completely betrayed him.
You felt his belly shudder in your hands. His face scrunched up. And then he was straining. His panting breaths became a drawn-out groan. It shook in his throat, cracking with pressure. Uhhnnngghhhh…
You could hear the crackle of a thick load beginning to stretch him wide open. He broke for breath and his belly puffed in your palms before tensing as he bore down again. Another long grunt, his voice breaking around the edges and vibrating under the strain.
“Good boy… let it all out for me.”
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