Gross Blog

I love seeing someone poop up close and hearing, from the way their breath hitches very slightly, that they’re starting to push. You see the muscles around their inner thighs flex, and the wrinkled knot of their anus twitches and starts to relax. You hear them let go of a breath. Their thighs relax and their anus tightens again. I love knowing a primal urge just swept over their body for a couple seconds, I love knowing their entire body and mind just squeezed together. I want them to tell me how it feels, if it turns them on or if it hurts or if it’s a relief. I want to watch them push and breathe, grunt and sigh, grimace and groan as their big poop is rhythmically ejected out of their body; push relax push relax push push push. The soft winking of their empty hole after, pulsing with aftershocks of straining.

Also obsessed with this especially when it’s involuntary. It’s one thing to feel your body’s urge and get swept away in pleasurable effort, but it’s another thing to fight the urge with every single cell in your body, only to feel yourself getting weaker, seeing in tunnel vision as your autonomic nervous system start to betray you. You suddenly stop clenching your thighs and holding your hands over your bottom. You can’t help how your knees spread and bend just slightly, how your eyes zone out and start watering. Your tummy clenches and a grunt forms in your throat. You hear it come out of your mouth while you feel the tingly sensation of your bum opening up. It’s happening, you think, as you briefly recover control of yourself, only to surrender once again when a wave of urgency passes over your stomach. The grunt that comes out of you is humiliatingly childish, but you have no concept of humiliation right now. You’re caught in the effort, ruled by tides of peristalsis until your body is empty. I want to see it turn you on, to have your bodily autonomy compromised.

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

“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.