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Just in case you need a reminder:
yeah i had a quick look on there. pretty funny really! 5 mins is all you need to know its all nude men rubbing themselves!
Dude i was talking to out in Leeds was on about it being this 'amazing porn site'.... Maybe he's a gayman. He's probably a gayman
The past 8 months had flown by, the rancid splatterings of alcohol and barbecue base pizza had coated the toilet bowl on a tri-daily basis. The porcelain was no longer visible through the hardened crust of excrement, now inches deep in parts. The curtains had themselves been used as anus fodder some months back, so sunlight poured into the once dark room and facilitated the baking and cementing of the brown paste onto the bowl. The crust was now so mountainously thick that it made the toilet water accessible to only the wateriest of stool. Luckily my horrible diet meant that only the sloppiest of excretions had passed my puckered anal lips, so until now this presented no problem to the eye of the needle that the toilet had become.
Unfortunately a persistent and infected bout of pink eye had led to hospitalisation, and thus none of the alcoholic elixir that had kept my bowels in check and the sluice gates open for so long. Constipation set in and when I returned home I was of course in for a brutal battle to be fought on two fronts- one through the express dilation of my ill-prepared sphincter, and two in the no doubt vain effort to chisel away enough hardened poo from the toilet in time to burst my engorged bowels into the water (and not overflow into my slippers and pajama bottoms).
Both battles seemed lost when the football sized bolus began to birth itself prematurely, with 3stops still to go on the bus home. I was not only touching cloth, but wearing through it, the crispy edges of the turd were boring a hole through my underpants and I could feel the familiar caress of anal blood dribbling down my trouser leg. It would be a race to the toilet, but it would still be a challenge to get the beast out.
Home, I grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen counter and ignoring the useless toilet, jumped into the bath and dropped to all fours. The lump would not be coming without a fight, instinctively I knew this, and I began to chip away at it’s now cold exterior with the spoon- some blows breaking off chunks, others mashing the turd into a supercompact state. I could tell that beneath the arid exoskeleton belied a soft, moist interior and if I could plunge the spoon into the turd I could erupt the liquid from within. I mashed away at it, sweat beginning to drip into the bath, instantly mixing with the turd’s dust to form a slippery paste which on a number of occasions sent me tumbling face down into the slime. I spat out the shat and carried on plumbing my anus. It took every ounce of strength but I chiseled my way inside the turd which was crowning and splaying my sphincter to a good 4 inches in diameter. It was instant relief and like a supermassive star it collapsed inward, shooting a jet of hot sludge that barely touched the sides of my stretched hole and plastered the bath taps and blocked the plughole. The rest simply fell out of my gaping anal wound and piled like half melted ice cream between my legs.
Exhausted and shattered I retired to bed, knowing that an extensive clean up operation would be necessary at some point in the coming month. Knowing it would be absorbed quicker I lay with my legs in the air and poured vodka straight into my welcoming anal tract, waited for it to be absorbed and fell into a well deserved natural sleep.
there's much better than that one
10:12am. Work toilet
The turd came out coated in an armoured exoskeleton of crusty poo. It’s soft interior was betrayed by the rough, unforgiving edges that caught on my inner sphincter as it was passed. This was coupled with an intense explosion of aniseed that hung in the air and stuck to the tongue.
I could taste the flecks of chinese 5-spice that had broken off from the mother-poo on exit and floated out into the atmosphere. I felt as if I had got my money’s worth from yesterday’s dinner, in that I was privileged enough to taste it twice. What worried me though was that there was no difference between the two servings – Digestion had not changed the flavour at all.
04:39am (Grandfather Pete’s house – Culmination (Mistakes are made))
Throughout the weekend I had festooned the bowl with great evil. Convalescing after my stomach pump was essential, and, weak and unstable on my feet I had used a bedside bucket for most of the soilings.
I didn’t want to risk pooing on the floor, so I pulled the bucket up snug against my cheeks before launching my dung into it. At first this was a fine method, but as the bucket began to fill with poo it became very heavy. By the time it was 2/3 full I could barely lift it.
An accident was depressingly inevitable. As I coiled off another steaming broth of chunky intestinal soup into the pile, I wished I hadn’t been so lazy and emptied the bucket in the last 48 hours. Once would have been enough, but I had let the stinking excrement build up and up until the bowl was nigh overflowing.
The force of the blast was too much. The bucket slipped and skidded from my fingertips. Unable to stop the torrent I sprayed my super-heated poo across the room and into the open wardrobe, plastering the vestments with dung. Lumps of it slid down the lapels of shirts, dripped from belt buckles, and trickled into pockets. Some items would most likely need to be washed.
Worse than this, though. Worse than evacuating my bowels into mid air and coating the clothes with poo. Worse still I had dropped the bucket, containing two days worth of sloppy, putrescent faeces.
The room was instantly transformed into a medieval nightmare. The moister upper layer of poo liquified on impact and exploded into the air, splashing into my mouth and eyes, blinding me. The second, thicker layer poured from the bucket like a tidal wave. I floundered in the poo river and was carried into the kitchen by the surf, barely able to keep my head above p-level.
It reminded me of the terrible Asian tsunamis of late and how helpless the wave had left those trapped in it, only this was surely worse.
I came to a halt nude, upside down and with my head resting against the oven. My body, like the kitchen, was head to toe covered in turd, my nose and ears were blocked, my eyes blinded, and even my anus had become impacted with the mess.
I became instantly grateful that I had taken up the offer of a bed at my grandfather’s house while I recovered. I ran back to my bed, grabbed my clothing and slipped out into the night, leaving the front door open so as not to wake the dear old man.
Luckily for me I knew that senility would soon sink in, and he would no doubt be blamed for the devastating mess I had made. Before leaving I made sure of this, doing a small poo in his hands and smearing my grandmother’s name on the wall, aswell as planting Joe Pasquale memorabilia around the house.
Satisfied, I gave the sweet man a tender kiss on his forehead and became a ghost.