Suddenly, without warning, a relentless stream of slimy poop began to leak from his divine egg-laying hole. For a brief, shining moment, he felt the sweet relief of an unburdened ass, but that joy was short-lived.
Something wet and slimy was caressing his balls, and he knew it wasn't a loving touch. He dared to peek down, and the sight nearly made him gag.
'Weak...' he muttered, dismayed.
The toilet bowl was now a cauldron of horrors, the poop piling up like some grotesque chocolate fountain, reaching the unspeakable depths of his cheeks and balls. It was like sitting on a throne of nightmares, where the only crown was made of feces.
In a panic, he twisted around and started slapping the toilet handle like it owed him money.
Flush~
Flush~
Flush~
'Dammit!'
No matter how many times he flushed, the toilet just gurgled and danced, refusing to take the hint and send his mess down to the depths where it belonged. The toilet was clogged, and Kris was now the king of Crap Mountain.
Cleanliness was a distant dream; his whole body felt like it was leaking through his asshole, a never-ending mudslide of doom.
Shrltpt~ Blurck~ Splugh~
Wet farting noises erupted from his ass, each one a new horror being born into the world. Another slimy piece of shit splattered onto the already overflowing pile, like the cherry on top of the worst sundae ever made.
Kris was trapped on the porcelain throne of despair, the room starting to smell like a mixture of rotting cabbage and betrayal.
"Dammit," Kris muttered, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as he scanned the small, poorly equipped bathroom. No plunger, no cleaning supplies, not even a measly roll of paper towels. It was like the gods had truly forsaken him, leaving him to drown in his own mess.
Crackle~ Druuumm~
A lightning bolt struck outside, making the room momentarily brighter and Kris's skin prickled with the same dread he felt in his bowels. Then, as if to mock his predicament, a thunderous rumble followed, shaking the very foundations of his resolve.
"Ohh..."
Kris groaned, clutching his stomach as it churned violently. It felt like a bowling ball was forming inside him, each gurgle a reminder that his time was running out.
He needed to poop urgently, or else he'd go down in history as the guy who literally exploded from holding it in. He could see the headlines now: "Nineteen year old boy Dies from Massive Stomach Explosion; Experts Warn of Dangers of Ignoring Nature's Call."
"Gotta do it... gotta do it," Kris chanted to himself, his face growing redder by the second.
The pressure was mounting, both in his gut and in his mind. He could feel the internal bomb ticking away, ready to detonate at any moment. He frantically looked around for a solution, any solution, but the barren bathroom offered no hope. The time bomb in his stomach was ticking faster, and he was running out of options—and places—to relieve himself.
With the determination of a man on the brink of disaster, Kris knew he had to find a place to poop, and fast. The toilet was a lost cause, clogged beyond redemption. He eyed the sink, then the trash can, weighing his increasingly desperate options.
Each second felt like an hour, and his gut was threatening to stage a coup if he didn't act soon.
His eyes darted around for anything to help him, and finally, with desperation clogging his mind like a monumental turd clogging the toilet, his gaze landed on the white tiles of the bathroom floor, now tainted with brown footprints.
Kris's eyes dilated like the floor was beckoning him, practically whispering sweet nothings. His feet shuffled, his arms flailed, and his butt got in on the action, finally hovering above the floor.
"Yes, this is it. I can do this. I just have to clean this—"
Plop~ klack~
A loud, wet squishing sound echoed through the bathroom as slimy semi-fluids flowed nonstop from his asshole like a cursed chocolate fountain, splattering onto the tiles.
"Oooohh..."
Kris moaned, feeling his dick harden like a steel rod. The sensation was mind-blowing, like a five-star massage after the worst day of your life.
"I can do this."
Soon, the area beneath him was filled with his smelly shit, so Kris did what any sensible asshole would do: he moved to another square of tile and shat there.
And then another.
And another.
Until all the tiles were filled with his poop.
By this time, Kris's brain had stopped functioning altogether, like a computer with a fatal error. He heard a familiar sound outside the door, jumpstarting his brain again and making his heart beat like it was powered by a petrol engine.
"I can explain, this is not what you're thinking," said the lovely voice.
...
Outside the door, Axel frowned as he stared at the beautiful girl in front of him. He had been terrified when he saw Layla walking up the stairs, fearing the worst about being caught in her home at this hour.
It was literally a break-in, and if she so much as screamed, he and Kris would be behind bars faster than he could say "fuck." But what she said made him scowl in confusion.
"I can explain, this is not what you think."
Layla said, clutching her ample chest. She had a sculpted face with golden eyes and raven-black hair. Standing at 5'6", she was a beauty with skin pale as snow, looking like a Gothic princess in a twisted fairytale.
'What the fuck is happening? Is she so scared that I'll misjudge her relationship with Brent that she's forgotten we are literally breaking into her house at night?'
Axel's mind was spinning like a hamster on an espresso shot, unable to process the situation.
"What the fuck—" he started, wanting to finish with, "are you talking about?" But he gulped down the rest of the sentence as he saw a golden opportunity to turn this fiasco to their advantage.
Hearing only the first part of his question, Layla became more worried and took a step forward.
Squelch~
She stepped on something slimy. Since she hadn't turned on the lights upstairs and the only illumination came from the floor below, the darkness kept her from seeing the slimy brown stuff on the floor. She had no idea she'd just stepped on a biohazard and thought it was just rainwater.
She took another step forward, blissfully ignorant of the shitstorm—literally—that lay before her and said...