Porcelain Nights: Call of the Wild

My first movement this week was a slender sausage. There was no fanfare as it exited my void.

The second movement was an ornery beast of a turd; requiring me to tightly grip the sides of the commode and bear down with all of the force that I could muster. It emerged as a clutch of hard dry knobs covered in blood.

There was no movement the next day. I was alarmed by this, as I had eaten a gross of prunes the night prior.

The third movement felt like being on one of the planes that crashed into the World Trade Center. Even before I sat down I knew that I was doomed; that I was going down with this monster.

In my bowels it was like solid stone. Scraping and grinding away at everything that it slowly slid past. Its gnarled knuckles were visible from the exterior of my stomach as they worked their way to my now lubed evacuation port.

Like a fool, a pushed down. The pain caused me to fall to the ground and let out a weak cry. If childbirth felt even slightly worse than this, I vowed to never make any woman suffer a child. I clumsily climbed the porcelain and reoriented my slimy anus over the bowl. This battle had just begun.

I put a hand on my stomach and gently pressed down. As I did so, the walls of my rectum vibrated with the sounds of some ancient gas that was being forced from my colon. The lights seemed to dim as the smell of mutilated flesh and rancid fat took control of the air. When I was done vomiting between my legs, I resumed my trial.

When the first bit of this fetid horror found its way to daylight I found myself oddly at ease. Soon I would be free from this unholy punishment. I pressed down and it fell into the water with an ominous, near inaudible, plop. This was immediately followed by a deluge of liquid shit that seemed incapable of being produced by one body. I cried like a child that had lost his parents, between these horrid torrents; constantly flushing so as to not fill the room with this tainted liquid.

When it subsided, my joy was fleeting, as I quickly realized that this had all just been a buildup to the main event. That dense, eldritch stool has still haunting my bowels. Tonight I would dine in hell.

Each passing minute was an eternity. The abomination was slowly making progress, aided by the fact that the lining of my insides had recently been lubricated by bucketfuls of gooey diarrhea. As it moved past my prostate my shit-stained cock began to surge with blood. “Not like this”, I begged. I didn’t want my final sexual experience to be with this devil’s log.

I clenched my teeth. It had finally breached my anus. My opening widened around it, expanding to inhuman proportions. As it slowly slid out I could feel it cutting my insides, as if someone was drawing a sword from my rusty sphincter. It seemed to go on for miles, its progress getting slower and slower as it left me.

When the tail end fell out of me I collapsed to the floor. I don’t know how much time passed between then and when I woke up. I decided to look into the eyes of this enemy that nearly defeated me.

There was nothing there. I looked around the room in fear. I flushed, fell into the shower, and wept. The water would never make me feel clean. Not as long as I knew that whatever came out of me was still out there somewhere. Lurking, waiting to take its revenge.

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