Oh man, my whole life has been filled with foul tales of feces, but non a fouler than this one.
I was living in Brazil at the time, 22 years of age, ripe with adventures, spunk and vigor. I went to a small town outside the plain fields of Sao Paulo called Piracicaba, a small farmers market and cattle community. It was a town that embraced you with its warmth of heart, but left you to die once you fatally shart.
I spent the evening with my lovely girlfriend and her family on her mothers side of the family. They, a high class and well structured family of lawyers and me, a country boy from normal means in southern Norway. It was a combination youd assume would not mix, but yet our souls danced in unison to the sweet melodies that our excited hearts produced as we exchanged culture. We held the festivities at a local barbeque restaurant in the city. A seemingly nice looking country side building, where the air was filled with the smell of grilled meat, sweet liquor and Ted Dansons aftershave.
As our voices sang the merry song of newfound friendship while we waiting for the main course to arrive, we ordered ourselves a bucket of grilled pork squares to quench our increasing appetites.
The slightly crisp texture blended with a tender bite sized meat that melted on your tongue made for an incredible oral experience, and as the family noticed my near erotic lust for this porky ambrosia, they continuously played my never ending taste for them, asking me to open my mouth wide as the grease dripped on my tongue, as if it was a drop of satanic semen tempting my being to dive further into the darkness.
As we parted our ways with the family after the satisfactory meal, me and my dear girlfriend were on our way back to her aunts apartment which we were borrowing during our trip to this town of love and labor. As we rode in the back of the taxi, she began to rub her slightly moist hand on my loins, damp from the incredible heat of the country fields, whispering her planned procedure to sexually satisfy me throughout the night. I nodded in agreement as I saw the blueprint for that night which she had laid out in her corrupted mind, but I was also becoming increasingly aware of a rising tension inside of myself. Despite the public display of teasing concentrated around my genitals, the tension was rather rising in my stomach, but I was not one to pass up a good night of tender love making because a rummy tummy.
As we stepped into the elevator, our basic instincts were taking over, though our instincts were not going in the same direction. She was becoming feral, a dog in heat who finally found her tramp, and I, a real life representation of Bald Bull being punched in the stomach during the Bull Charge, finally becoming aware that this stomach ache was taking a turn for the worse. As the escalator rose, we escalated with it, with her sweet moans and heavy breathing becoming ever increasingly louder, and my farts being more potent and venomous by the second.
We finally entered the apartment. I turn on the lights, my steps becoming more calculated to avoid pressure towards my mid section, but from behind, my girlfriend turned me around with the aggression of a retired tiger, and her embrace became the lever that opened the flood gates to the pool of sin and shit.
My pants were slowly filling with a texture that would be most easily explained as a pot of chili corn carne, and the smell began to seep through the entire room. My womb carrier took a short step back with a look on her face, the look of a woman who just realized all would change from this point forward, and asked me the question that had been slightly lingering on her mind for the last 5 minutes:
Did you
did you shit your fuckin pants?
My love I answered back softly, I dont feel so well, I think its the pork
Serenity befell us for a few seconds as we asserted the situations in our minds, but time was running out as we stared into eachothers eyes, and my underpants were now stained with the blood of demons. Carefully, I continued my steps into the bathroom in order to salvage what little natural color was left on my boxerbriefs, but as I entered the bathroom, the sight of a toilet became to much, the oasis that it had now become. I had become a hurt animal, and I lowered my pants and ran towards the bowl, with liquid stool coming out uncontrollably, leaving a trail big enough to lead Elmer Fudd right to my location had it been Audi hunting season. I sat down and finally let go of the last ounce of muscle strength left in my sphincter to hold the flow in check, and as I did, it was on
A large splurt of mustard colored feces flew out at the speed of a bullet, water recoiling up on the ring and dripping onto the floor as several more shots of diseased filth came out of my anus with the strength of 10 bulls. It was followed inbetween with a burning pain that spread itself long ways up my colon, forcing me to scream in agony, with the choir of my butt blurting echoing in the back. As the watery stool began to run dry and the color palette changing from mustard to reddish brown, I began to pray that this would be the end, that I would survive afterall, but it was only the beginning.
I leaned myself back, careful not to touch the toilet itself, as even the back had been stained with small spills of shit that had fought its way against the law of gravity and out of the bowl, but my body was quickly launched forward again as terrible pain shot through my body. Without any warning or control, whole pieces of food was now being passed, stretching my opening wide open,and blood was pouring out shortly after the food. The pieces were not at all digested, having passed right through to the point where you could technically rinse them off in the sink and eat them again and call it recycling. It was the most unbearable pain I had ever felt, and the feeling of being violated and raped by biscuits and beef was now all too real as I began to openly weep and shed tears because of the terrible shame.
Outside the door, my girlfriend sent words of encouragement, trying to hold on bravely for her biggest love, but ultimately defeated by the smell and disgrace I was now surrounded in, and she too on the floor flowing tears down her cheek as I flowed feces on mine.
After 3 hours, I finally felt an end, and fell over forward onto the floor. I was dehydrated, hurt, a changed man. My lady crawled in slowly, not sure if I was still alive, holding down the vomit from the sight of stool having found its way on the floor, tangled on my hairy buttocks with lines of blood dripping from the tear, and freshly foaming in the unflushed toilet. She dragged my carcass into the shower, turning it on and aiming the shower head at my behind, unsure of how to proceed further in order to help. I laid in on the floor of that shower fully clothed, water tickling my butt, and staring blankly at the wall, completely devoid of any thoughts.
For the next 3 days, I spent my days on the toilet, unable to move as any movement could set off the poo plopper pro. I sat there ashamed and humbled at the state that my woman now had to see me, though she showcased to me incredible heart and compassion, as she had moved a TV into the bathroom so I wouldnt get bored, and did her homework on the bidet to keep me company. As I sat and ate pizza on the can at the same time as I was passing the rancid rectum juice, I thought to myself She loves me, and I love her. Together, we survived this As I finished my last slice, she gently kissed my forehead, and told me to flush twice.
