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Friday, November 4, 2016

Becky Gets an Anal Probe by Arthur Saxon meganeura@hotmail.com


"I dreamed last night that I was abducted by aliens," remarked Rebecca Booth conversationally to her friends.
They stared at her in amusement. "Did they give you an anal probe, Becky?" inquired Suzy Wheaton with a smirk.
"Actually they did," said Becky. "Didn't hurt though." She shivered. "But it was a horrible dream. Very realistic. I was all sweaty when I woke up."
Angela Tanner chuckled, and looked behind Becky, at her bottom. "Well, I can't see an eighty-foot satellite dish emerging," she said. "Perhaps it really was just a dream."
"Of course it was," said Becky, frowning a little. "But it seriously was quite scary. You needn't be so flippant."
It was Suzy's turn to frown. "Did you really dream you were abducted by aliens?" she asked. "I thought you were just joking."
"I wasn't joking, I did dream it," affirmed Becky. "It was horrible at the time, but now, in the light of day, it's all dim and distant like any other dream. Anyway let's go or we'll be late for class."
That evening Becky was having dinner with her parents.
"I dreamed I was kidnapped by aliens last night," she said in between mouthfuls of Boeuf Bourgignon (stew really, but her mum could be a little pretentious at times). "I dreamed they gave me an anal probe."
"Really dear? Sounds like a bad one."
"It was, Mum. It was awful."
"Well perhaps that'll teach you not to watch that awful cartoon," said her father sternly.
"What do you mean, awful? I know you watch it after I've gone to bed," Becky accused him.
"I do not. And anyway, I'm allowed to - it's an adult show, and you're only fourteen."
Becky gasped and slapped his arm. "I'm fifteen!" she exclaimed. "And two weeks away from being sixteen! Nice of you to keep track."
"Oh Becky, your father's only teasing. Now be a good girl and do your homework while we're out. We'll be back at ten-thirty or so. Maybe eleven."
Becky nodded. She had no intention of doing her homework, really - it was not due until Friday and she absolutely never looked at her homework until the night before its due date. She was not a particularly conscientious girl when it came to her studies, preferring to read her books, and surf the Internet if her parents were out.
After supper, her parents left the house to go to a concert being held by the local choral society, leaving Becky alone to surf to her heart's content. She switched the computer on and then sat down in front of it, waiting for the desktop to load up. As she sat there, she rubbed at her abdomen - it was aching a little, the way it did when she had not been to the loo for a while. Getting up, she trotted through to the bathroom, pulled down her panties, gathered up her skirt, and sat down on the toilet seat. She began to strain.
A poo began to emerge, and she winced - it was a hard one and, by the feel of it, great in girth. She relaxed her anus as much as possible, and clenched her buttocks together in an attempt to squeeze the poo into a smaller diameter. It helped, slightly, and the poo started to slide wetly out of her sphincter. As more of it emerged, its point sank inexorably towards the water, and she prepared herself for the sudden rush and easing-off of pressure that would signal the impending terminus of her faecal production.
The tip reached and broke the surface of the water, then descended steadily towards the base of the bowl. Still there was no sign of Becky's poo coming to an end, and she began to think to herself that this was probably the longest unbroken specimen she had ever expelled. She wondered if she could manage to keep it intact until the last remnant had left her rectum. She anticipated that it would be quite a sight, curled up in the bottom of the toilet bowl.
But as the poo hit bottom and began to bend, and as she continued to push, more and more of the poo emerged with still no indication that it was about to come to an end. Somewhat intrigued, Becky parted her legs and looked down into the bowl, watching as her poo began laying itself along the dry ceramic slope above the surface of the water. Since she was sitting quite far back, however, it soon began to bend the other way, and the bulk of what was still suspended in the air began to descend back towards the water. And still it came.
Now a little alarmed, Becky wondered just how long this could possibly continue. Her bowels could only hold so much, and she must surely have practically emptied them by now. Yet strangely she felt no emptier than when she had first sat down. Her poo was now beginning to pile itself on top of what was already in the water, and she decided enough was enough. She clenched her anal sphincter.
The poo broke off and fell with a muffled 'splat' into the toilet bowl. Yet almost immediately Becky began to feel a growing pressure inside her rectum, and an aching in her bowels that quickly intensified until it was almost unbearable. With a gasp of pain, she relaxed her sphincter once again to allow the remaining excrement to escape.
It pushed its way out with a will. Sliding smoothly through the muscular flesh of her anus, it descended quickly towards the growing pile in the bowl. Becky suddenly realised that this much poo would be difficult to flush away. She hurriedly reached behind her and pressed the lever before any more could build up.
Water poured into the toilet bowl, splashing over the tangled mass of poo that lay draped around the sides and down into the base of the bowl. The water level quickly arose, as the poo was now blocking much of the passage to the S-bend. Suddenly frightened that it might overflow, Becky reached down by the side of the cistern for the brush, which she then used in an attempt to push the poo into the bend, where hopefully the water would force it all the way through.
And still more poo was emerging at a steady pace from her anus. As wide as ever, though not quite as hard as it had been right at the beginning, it was sliding out of her like a long, brown, scaleless snake. Becky was unable to do a particularly good job with the brush, since she had to remain poised over the toilet bowl, and by the time the water had stopped flowing she found she had virtually jammed up the S-bend with her poo. Fortunately there had been no overflow, but the water was now taking a very long time to return to its initial level, and inch after inch of poo was steadily adding to the brown islands sitting in their murky lake.
Worse still, she seemed now to be defecating at an increased rate. The poo was sliding out of her bottom with a smoothness and swiftness that was decidedly uncharacteristic. Becky was beginning to panic. What was she to do? If she flushed again, the entire bathroom floor would be awash with water and poo. Then again, what if the entire bowl filled up and she still had not finished?
How was this happening to her? It seemed to defy all natural laws. Her bowels could not possibly possess the capacity to generate this much waste, could they? She tried to think, but it was difficult to clear her mind when she could feel a never-ending flow of poo coming out of her anus. She closed her eyes and tried to come up with an answer to her dilemma. What could she do?
A sudden touch of something moist and squishy pressing against her buttock made her eyes flick open. She looked down between her legs, and gasped in horror. The brown mass was now piled so high it had almost reached the seat. And still there was no sign of the flow stopping - in fact, it seemed to be flowing faster than ever. In desperation she clenched her anus closed, but had to relax it again almost immediately with a cry of pain as the pressure became instantly intolerable.
'I have to do something,' she said to herself. But what? Should she call the hospital? No! Far too embarrassing. And yet, what if it did not stop? Ever?
While she pondered this the poo was piling itself higher and higher, topping the level of the seat as Becky raised herself up to avoid it. 'I have to get out of this house,' she thought, 'or I'll end up heaping poo over everything.'
Taking a deep breath, she clenched her anus to break the poo, then relaxed again as pain struck swiftly. She hurriedly pulled her panties up as her faeces began to slither out with renewed speed, and held on to them tightly as she ran out of the room. Rushing down the stairs, she broke out into a panicked sweat as she felt her poo pushing the material outwards away from her bottom. She rushed to the front door, threw it open, then leaped outside, closing the door behind her. She stopped and heaved a sigh of relief - she had not dropped any on the carpets.
Becky's panties were now being stretched so much that the pressure of poo was pulling them down away from her bottom. She rushed to the flower bed at the edge of the lawn and then pulled her panties right down, letting their contents spill on to the bare soil. She then continued to squat there, while more and more poo snaked out of her rectum to form a rapidly-growing pile between two half-grown sunflowers.
'This is no good,' she thought to herself after the pile had grown to nearly a foot in height. 'I have to get to the hospital.'
For a minute she considered using a callbox to phone for an ambulance, but then realised she had no money. And she did not dare go inside again. But then she remembered that her bus pass was still in the breast pocket of the shirt she was wearing. She took it out, and began to wonder when the next bus would come. Squatting beside the tall fence bordering her garden, Becky was fairly effectively concealed from passers-by, but she could also not see when a bus was coming. Deciding she would have to rely on her hearing to alert her to an imminent arrival, she waited, while the pile of poo at her feet grew and grew.
Then (thank heavens!) she heard the tell-tale low engine noise of an approaching bus. Breaking off her poo in mid-flow, Becky pulled up her panties and raced out of her garden to the bus stop, which was just outside her house. Holding up her hand and waving, she caught the driver's attention, and the bus slowed down and stopped just next to her while her panties quickly began to fill up again.
By the time she set foot on the bus, they were straining under the pressure of newly-emerging poo, seven inches long already and growing as fast as ever. Fearful lest it should all spill out while she was talking to the driver, she reached under her skirt and squished the poo up against her buttocks, temporarily relieving the strain on her underwear. With her other hand she fetched her pass out of her breast pocket.
"Does this bus go along Mill Road?" she asked. "Where the hospital is?"
The driver nodded. "Yes, young lady," he said, "we stop right outside the hospital."
"And how long do you think it will take to get there?" Becky asked in a hurried voice. Her panties were sagging dangerously. Taking a furtive glance down the aisle, she noticed that there was only one passenger on the lower deck, and he was not looking her way. She surreptitiously reached behind her bottom, slipped her hand under her skirt, placed it under the great bulge in her panties, and pushed upwards with her palm. The bulge flattened and spread, squishing between her buttocks and sliding forward across her pussy.
"About fifteen minutes," the driver replied. Then he sniffed the air and frowned. "What's that awful smell?" he asked. "It smells like ... sh..."
"It's the local sewage works," Becky cut him off quickly, her cheeks flushing crimson. "The wind's blowing the smell over this way. Anyway thanks." She ran up the stairs, her bulging panties bouncing and slapping a huge wad of her squashed poo against her buttocks with each step.
There was a man and a woman on the top deck, but both were sitting near the back, so Becky decided to sit in the very front row of seats, on the left hand side of the aisle. She sat down gingerly, spreading her skirt around her, and shuddered with disgust as she began to put her weight on the mass of poo in her panties, which were now practically filled to capacity. She would make a horrible mess of the seat, she reflected, but then, it was not really her fault.
The poo was squashed once more, and it flooded forwards to cradle her pussy in a moist, warm, sticky embrace. And still it was coming out - Becky found she had to lean over and put her weight on her right buttock so as not to impede the flow. She lifted her left buttock clear off the seat, so that she was expelling her poo sideways. As the bus began to move, her panties filled to bursting point, then overflowed on to the seat next to her. She was glad of the skirt, which enabled her to conceal her crime.
After a couple of minutes, Becky came up with a theory on how she could get the flow to stop. 'Perhaps', she thought, 'if I actually try to force it out, rather than letting it come out by itself, I'll be able to get rid of it faster than it can be replenished. Then at least I'll be able to give myself some kind of breathing space.'
She attempted this tactic. Straining with all her might, she pushed the poo out as fast and as hard as she possibly could. The first part of her plan seemed to be working, as her faecal matter began discharging from her rectum at a greatly increased rate. She reached beneath her skirt and pulled the material of her panties to one side so that she could facilitate her excrement's expulsion. She got poo all over her hand for her pains, but she was determined to give her plan a good shot.
The vile matter poured out of her like toothpaste from a tube, and still she kept pushing hard. Eventually, however, as the pile on the seat beside her grew to virtually un-hideable proportions, and there was still no sign of the flow diminishing, she gave up this plan, and relaxed.
The flow, however, did not slow down. It had apparently got used to this new rate and was not about to downgrade. Alarmed, Becky tried to clench her buttocks together, but this only made matters worse. Frustrated, Becky relaxed and lifted herself up off the seat slightly, still holding her panties aside so that she was now defecating directly on to the seat beneath her bottom. She wondered whether she should scrape the pile next to her on to the floor, in order to make room for further production, but she decided against it, hoping that it would remain unnoticed until she arrived at the hospital.
The bus slowed down and stopped to pick up another passenger. Becky's heart sank as she heard footsteps on the stairs. A tall grey-haired man appeared, and Becky crossed her fingers, hoping that he would sit at the back with the others. But as he turned towards her, she knew she was in trouble unless she acted quickly. She let go of her panties so that they covered her buttocks once again, then sat down hard on the pile of poo beneath her. It squished all around her buttocks and panties, but she forced herself to ignore this horror as she shoved a great pile of poo off the seat next to her on to the floor. It landed with a splat that she hoped the newcomer would not hear.
Fortunately, the newcomer made no sign of having seen or heard anything suspicious. He walked right up to the front of the bus, smiled briefly at Becky, then sat down on the other side of the aisle and looked out of the window.
Becky sat still, unsure of what to do. It would be another ten minutes before they reached the hospital - how could she possibly conceal her predicament from the man until then? Already her panties were almost full again. And a few seconds later, they were completely full, bulging and ready to overflow. Becky had to continually lift herself off the seat to allow more poo to gush forth, then sit down again to flatten it. Her pubic hair was saturated with poo. Her pussy was smothered in it - the mess was crammed into the groove between her labia and was even finding its way into her vaginal opening.
The smell had finally become apparent to the man on the other side of the aisle. He was staring at Becky suspiciously. Becky ignored him, looking straight ahead of her while she tried to arrange her legs so as to block his view of the pile of poo on the floor. However, more poo was beginning to force its way up between her thighs to form a new pile on her lap underneath her skirt. As it expanded, it caused her skirt to bulge upwards a little.
Then the man spoke up. "Excuse me," he said in a somewhat hostile tone. "Have you crapped yourself?"
Becky blushed furiously. "Leave me alone," she said quietly.
But the man had other ideas. He stood up, took a couple of steps towards Becky, and then whipped a handkerchief out of his pocket. He covered his nose with it. "Good grief!" he exclaimed. "What a diabolical smell! It is you, isn't it?" He turned and stomped off down the stairs. Becky sighed with relief.
But with a sudden squeal of brakes, the bus came to a halt. Becky's bottom, lubricated by all the poo she was sitting on, slid forward, almost falling off the seat. Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Becky turned in surprise, and saw the grey-haired man returning with the bus driver. She suddenly felt afraid.
"What's all this then?" asked the driver. "Are you making a mess of my bus?"
"It's not my fault!" wailed Becky, bursting into tears. "There's something wrong with me - I just can't stop pooing! That's why I need to get to..."
"You'll get no further than right here!" growled the driver angrily. He reached over and grabbed her shoulder. "Come on young lady, get off this bus right now!"
"But you don't understand! It's not my fault!"
"Whatever you say. Now get the hell off my bus before I physically kick you off myself."
Frustrated and utterly humiliated, Becky stood up, revealing a massive, partially-squashed heap of poo on the seat. As she walked past the driver and the grey-haired man, lumps of poo fell from under her skirt and on to the floor.
"Absolutely disgusting," remarked the grey-haired man, sotto voce.
Becky hurried down the stairs as quickly as she could. Her panties were beginning to overflow, and were threatening to fall down to the floor. She reached under her skirt and grabbed the waistband to keep them in place. With her other hand she squished the emerging poo to ease the pressure. Unfortunately this also had the effect of squeezing some out of her panties entirely. A large lump dropped to the floor and splatted.
The driver, coming down after her, opened the door and she stepped off. The bus drove off, and it suddenly occurred to Becky that she had no idea where she was. She sighed and began to walk down the street after the bus.
It did not look like a nice neighbourhood. Becky could see several youths up ahead of her, and she had no intention of walking past them while she was dropping poo every few feet. Instead, she took a left in the hope of bypassing them somehow. This took her into a dim alley, where she paused for a moment to empty out her panties. They were now completely sodden with poo - barely any white was remaining, and that was only around parts of the waistband. The inside of her skirt was also covered with poo, and it felt very uncomfortable as it brushed against her thighs.
After having rested for a while in the alley, and having built up quite a pile of excrement at the base of the wall, Becky pulled up her panties and continued on her way. Every half minute or so she would pull her panties aside and let their contents fall with a splat on to the ground, and in this manner she progressed without having to stop every few seconds.
Night was falling, but by the light of a sodium vapour lamp a group of nine or ten young men were playing football in a run-down car park. Becky paused and considered what to do. They were between her and the next road which she was planning to take. There was no way to sneak past without being seen. But how could she ensure that she did not 'embarrass' herself in front of them?
In the end she decided she had no choice but to go for it. She emptied out her panties, put them back in place, and began walking swiftly out into the car park as her panties quickly began to refill. She hugged the edge of the car park, reaching back with her hand to squish her poo every ten seconds or so.
"Hey!" said one of the men, a fairly tall and very heavily-built individual with a stubbly beard. "Do you play football? We're short one player."
Becky ignored him and quickened her pace.
The man ran to cut her off. His friends were following on behind. "There's no need to be coy," said the man, who looked even larger close-up. "My name's Andy. Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"That's my business," Becky muttered, attempting to push past him. She was terrified that her panties would overflow any second, and she did not want the men to see this happen.
"Now hold on," said Andy, putting a hand out to stop her. "I'm not sure I like your tone. Why be so rude?"
"Please, let me go," Becky pleaded, now quite afraid. "I have to get to the hospital."
"That's quite a way," said Andy. "You should have taken the bus."
"I tried to. Please - I'm in a hurry."
Then it happened. Her panties, stretched to the limit, and overflowing with poo, finally let a large lump fall to the ground. It hit with an audible slap.
"What the..." Andy began.
Then one of his friend's laughed. "She's crapped herself!" he exclaimed.
"Jeez, you must really be scared, huh?" Andy chuckled. "I've never seen a grown woman ... well, almost grown I guess ... crap herself before."
"Please leave me alone!" Becky tried to rush through the closing ranks, but Andy pushed her back. More poo fell out of her panties.
"Good grief, you must be petrified! I like that in a girl. Here Stuart, let's see the extent of her fear."
The man named Stuart, who looked about eighteen or nineteen, suddenly lifted the back of Becky's skirt. She shrieked and tried to pull it down.
"Hey guys, you have to check this out!" said Stuart. "Her knickers are totally full of it!"
"Sounds like something I should see," remarked Andy. "Brian, Frank, pin her down for me would you? On her front."
Becky screamed as she was forced down on to the tarmac, but Andy kicked her in the shoulder. "Shut your noise," he said sternly. "Or I'm sure I can use one of my smelly socks as a gag."
Becky struggled furiously, but Brian and Frank were strong, and she was soon lying face down, with Brian sitting on her shoulder blades and Frank holding her ankles still. Stuart now lifted her skirt again, revealing her enormously distended panties.
"Crikey, did you ever see so much shit?" he cried in awe. "Yuck - and her skirt's covered all over with it. You know Andy, I think she'd been shitting herself before she got here."
"Is that right?" Andy chuckled. "You into a bit of scat, young lady?"
"Fuck you!" Becky screamed, though she could not put a lot of volume into it since Brian's weight was squeezing her lungs.
"Keep the noise down!" Andy commanded sharply. "Right, time for that gag. Unfortunately I think my socks are too short for the job. Hey Brian, get up off her back a minute, and help me take off her shirt."
Once Brian was off her she renewed her struggles, and Andy allowed her to turn over on to her back before pinning her shoulders. Brian ripped her shirt open, and buttons flew in all directions. "Nice tits," he commented.
"We'll get the bra next," said Andy. "Turn her over."
Together they turned her over on to her front again, and managed to pull her shirt off. Then her bra was unfastened and removed roughly. Becky screamed again. Andy ripped one of her shirt sleeves off and held it up.
"Hey presto, one gag," he said. "Stuart, get her knickers off. Leave the contents where they are, though."
"Um, I'll try," said Stuart. "Ugh, messy job though." He gingerly pulled her panties down her legs using as little finger area as possible, and shaking them so that the poo inside detached and fell against her buttocks and upper thighs. Then Frank released her ankles just long enough for the garment to be completely removed.
"You know," said another of the men, watching the pile grow by the second, "I think she's crapping right now!"
Andy peered closer in the half-light. "You're right, Jim," he said. "Well well well. Right, young lady, open your mouth."
"Fuck off," muttered Becky. "You guys are going to be in so much trouble when I get to the police."
Andy laughed. "Shouldn't you say: if you get to the police? What makes you think we're going to let you go?"
A cold shiver ran down Becky's spine as for the first time the thought occurred to her that she might not survive the night. "You're not going to kill me are you?" she asked in a whisper.
"Jeez, Andy," said Stuart. "You're not seriously..."
"Hush Stuart," said Andy. "That depends, young lady, on whether you cooperate. Open your mouth."
Becky did so.
"Good," said Andy. He reached down to the pile of poo and grabbed a handful. Then he quickly pushed it into her mouth. Becky tried to spit it out, but Andy had already sealed her mouth with her shirt sleeve. He tied it securely round the back.
"Now don't swallow that, will you?" he said. "That should keep you quiet for a while."
He turned to the others. "Right, get her skirt off, and her shoes and socks. Might as well have her completely naked."
With a bit of fiddling, and the ripping in half of the skirt, this was accomplished. In the meantime the pile of poo on Becky's bottom and upper legs was growing steadily. She could feel it extruding from her anus as fast as ever, and wondered when the men would realise that she actually had a serious medical problem. She also wondered if they would care.
"Right," said Andy, "who wants to fuck her first?"
Nobody volunteered. "Oh come on," Andy chided them. "Afraid of getting messy?"
"Quite frankly, yes," said another of the men. "Look at her - she's still crapping I think."
"There's enough there to cover her whole body, I reckon," said Frank. "I think we should cover her from head to toe in her own shit."
"An excellent plan," agreed Andy. "Who wants to do that?"
Again, nobody volunteered.
"God, you're all wimps. Okay, I suppose I'll do it myself." Andy began to take handfuls of poo and plaster them up and down her back, followed by the backs of her legs. Then he massaged some into her hair. "Right, turn her over," he said.
Becky, tears streaming down her cheeks, was rolled over on to her back, her pussy and breasts exposed to the men for the first time. She had never felt so degraded, so abused, so humiliated, so violated. It was worse than the most horrible nightmare she could have dreamed up. She looked blankly up at the sky as Andy rubbed handfuls of her own poo into her breasts, her pussy, her face, her legs, her belly, her feet, and in fact over her entire body. And still she was producing more, almost as fast as Andy was using it. At any rate the pile between her thighs was scarcely diminishing.
"Where the hell is all this coming from?" Stuart wondered aloud. "She must not have been for months!"
"Yeah, it's a mystery all right," agreed Andy. "Kind of defies the laws of physics, or biology, or something. Still, waste not, want not." He continued to heap poo on to her torso. "Hey, I'll tell you what, if nobody wants to fuck her, we might as well fill her cunt, what do you reckon?"
"Cool!" said Frank and Brian together.
"Well, Frank, you take her left leg and Stuart take her right. Brian, keep a hold of her shoulders. Spread her open, lads!"
Stuart and Frank each pulled to one side, so that Becky's legs were spread wide. All the men could now see the poo continually emerging from her anus. They stared in awe for a few minutes as a new pile grew before their eyes.
"Isn't that just the freakiest thing you ever saw?" remarked Jim.
"It is." Andy nodded. "Right, time to open her up." He slipped two poo-covered fingers into Becky's vagina, though even this was a tight fit. "Hey, I think we have ourselves a virgin here," he said. "Are you all sure you don't want to fuck her first?"
"Oh all right," said one of the other men. "I'll have a go. I'm not getting my clothes messy though." He began to disrobe.
"Good for you, Chas," said Andy. "Have fun."
Becky's eyes widened as Chas, now naked, positioned himself above her while being careful not to touch her too much. He planted his hands either side of her shoulders, and slowly guided his erect penis into her vagina. Lubricated by her poo, he slid inside her with a little effort, though he tore her flesh slightly as he ripped through her virginity. Becky winced, then closed her eyes and tried to think of something else.
"Oh my god," Chas murmured with a sigh. "That feels great." He began to thrust in and out of her. Then he bent down and whispered into her ear, "Hey sweetheart, try not to worry too much - I won't let them hurt you."
This jolted Becky back to reality. Of course, Chas's words were ridiculous - she had already been hurt more than she could possibly describe - but his meaning was clear to her, and a faint ray of hope entered her head that Chas might stand up for her if Andy decided to kill her.
Chas began to grunt as his rhythm sped up. Then he gasped as he came, shooting his sperm deep into her body. With a happy smile, he pulled out and clambered off her.
"Anyone else?" asked Andy. "No? Okay then." He slid two fingers into her vagina again, followed by a third, then a fourth. Finally he attempted to insert his thumb as well. "Tight indeed," he muttered. "Well, we'll soon fix that." He pushed forward hard, causing Becky to cry out in pain through her gag. She felt his fist work its way gradually further and further into her body, until at last he was buried up to the wrist. He now began to slide his fist in and out, twisting and turning it as he did so. The pile of poo was now mounting so high that his arm was pressing down into it as he fist-fucked her, so he pulled his hand out and grabbed a piece of her faeces.
He pushed it into her abused orifice, using his fist to punch it all the way to the furthest recesses of her vagina. Then he took another handful and repeated the process. In another minute or so, Becky's vagina was packed full of her own poo, compressed into a hard, solid lump that stretched her soft inner flesh to its limits. In the meantime, of course, she had continued to produce more excrement, and Andy gathered it up in his hands and patted it down over her pussy, making sure to work it into the folds of her labia and the hood around her clitoris.
"Anybody need to take a leak?" he inquired. "I think our human toilet here could use some watering." With that he got to his feet, unzipped his jeans, took out his penis, and began to pee.
With a chorus of approval, several of his friends followed suit, aiming their pee at Becky and pouring their urine all over her face, her breasts, her belly and her pussy. Rivulets flowed off her body, in places cutting channels into the inch-deep poo that covered her. One of the men directed his stream at her gag, and quickly soaked the shirt sleeve. His pee filtered through the material and the poo in her mouth, trickling down into her throat, so that she was obliged to swallow it.
"This is fucking crap, I can't pee with an erection!" Jim complained, as he stood over Becky rather unproductively.
"Just imagine Paul's mum doing a striptease," suggested Andy.
"Ugh!" Jim shuddered. "Hey, that works. Thanks!"
"Hey!" objected Paul. "That's my mother you're talking about!"
Becky felt utterly wretched. No humiliation she had ever experienced could have prepared her for this. Her mouth was full of her own shit, which tasted absolutely disgusting, but she did not dare let herself throw up for fear she should choke to death on her own vomit. Her anus burned with a dull fire from having been constantly stretched for the past hour or so, and her vaginal opening was ablaze with a tearing pain. Her face was covered in her own excreta, her hair was full of it, her body itched all over from the thick coating of poo, and there was nothing she could do about it - her arms and legs were pinned by men far stronger than she. And still it flowed...
"Look," said Chas. "She's still crapping. Maybe we should let her get to a hospital or something."
"Are you kidding?" Andy was scornful. "We could make a fortune with this girl."
"Huh, like how?" asked Stuart.
"Hey, I know," said Jim. "If she's going to keep shitting forever, we could go into the fertiliser business or something."
"You stupid git," said Brian. "You think there's some kind of global shortage of human shit? If it had any commercial value then sewage farms wouldn't spend so much time and energy trying to break it down into harmless chemicals."
"I was talking about videos," said Andy. "You know my mate Robbie? He makes porn films. I'm sure he'd pay a lot for a girl like this - she'd be a godsend to the scat market."
"I really don't think we should do that," said Chas, shaking his head. "Come on - we've had our fun. I think we should let her go."
"You loser!" Andy accused him. "Don't be such a wimp. We're going to keep this little bitch and make some money off her."
"You'll have to go through me first," said Chas, clenching his fists.
Andy grimaced. "Jeez, Chas! What are you like? I'd flatten you in a second."
"I like big fat men like you," said Chas in a menacing voice. "When they fall down, they make more noise. And sometimes they never get up."
A fist slammed into his face and he crashed to the ground, practically insensible. Andy looked down at him with contempt. "If you're going to punch, punch!" he said. "Don't talk."
"Is that from a film?" inquired Brian, his brow furrowing.
"Yeah, 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly'," said Andy. "Well, nearly. Substitute 'shoot' for 'punch' and you'll have the idea."
"Oh, I love that movie," Stuart commented. "The best of the spaghetti westerns."
"Nah, 'Once Upon a Time in the West' was better," said Jim.
"Don't talk crap," said Stuart. "It didn't even have Clint Eastwood in it. Charles Bronson just wasn't nearly as impressive."
"Yeah but 'Once Upon a Time in the West' wasn't just about Charles Bronson. It was an ensemble piece. It had grandeur, scale, a magnificence that the 'Dollars' trilogy barely touched upon. And, for once, it had a strong central female character. And you have to admit, Claudia Cardinale was a babe."
"Very nice, yes, but you can't beat the three-cornered gunfight in 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly'. Not to mention the classic sequence where Eli Wallach is looking for the grave of Arch Stanton."
"How about the prolonged opening sequence of 'Once Upon a Time in the West'?" Jim pointed out. "That was equally magnificent."
"Would you two shut up!" complained Andy. "Jeez! It's academic anyway - 'Once Upon a Time in the West' wasn't even a spaghetti western."
"What?" Jim was aggrieved. "Of course it was!"
"No it wasn't you dumbfuck. It was shot in the States. Sergio Leone went over to America to film a gangster picture and ended up shooting 'Once Upon a Time in the West' instead."
"Hang on though, he did make a gangster film in the States," argued Jim.
"Yeah, 'Once Upon a Time in America'. But that wasn't for another fifteen years. Anyway let's get this little toilet slut dressed."
"How are we going to clean her up?" asked Brian.
"We won't." Andy grinned. "We'll just put her clothes on over the top of all this crap of hers."
"Well you can forget the skirt for a start," said Frank. "It's completely torn - it's unwearable."
"Okay, well she can still wear her bra, knickers and shirt, right? Not to mention shoes and socks. Actually forget the socks - throw them away. I want to fill her shoes."
He bent down and began to scoop Becky's poo into her shoes. When they were both filled up, he took each in turn and slipped Becky's feet into them. Her toes sank into the foul substance, which splurged out of the sides as her feet were pushed gradually all the way to the ends of her shoes. Then Andy made her sit up, while Brian still held tightly on to her shoulders. Together they managed to get her bra on, and Andy spent some time cramming the cups full of poo before fastening it at the back. Becky's breasts squished into her poo-filled bra cups, her nipples nestling deep into the muck.
Then Andy got her shirt and put it on her, though only one button, which was on a level with her navel, was still intact and functional. He did it up and smiled at the way the shirt could not help gaping open whenever she moved. Finally he took her panties and filled them up with poo.
"Get her on to her feet," he said to Brian.
Brian obliged, though as soon as she was up Becky started trying to struggle free. Andy put a stop to this by punching her in the stomach. She doubled over in pain and howled through her gag.
"Right," said Andy. "Now step into your knickers, there's a good girl."
Tears pouring from her eyes, Becky unsteadily put first one foot in, then the other.
"Good girl," Andy approved. He slid the panties up her legs, taking care to catch the ten-inch long poo that was even now descending from her anus. He pulled her panties up to her crotch, squishing the poo into her pussy and bottom. Then he watched as the back of the panties continued to distend, pushed downwards by the weight of the continuously-emerging excrement. He squished it back. "Now hold on to those," he said to Becky. "We wouldn't want them falling down, would we? And try to keep as much of your poo in there as you can, okay?"
Wham! Andy's eyes suddenly glazed over and he toppled, like a falling tree trunk, to the ground. Behind him stood Chas, holding a brick in his right hand. His nose was bleeding and he looked rather unsteady on his feet. He also looked exceedingly mad.
"Get going," he said to Becky. "Run! And if any of you others tries to stop her, I'll fucking kill you."
The others stood back, alarmed. For a moment Becky stood still, hardly taking in the situation. But then she suddenly realised she was free. Grabbing the back of her panties with one hand to hold them up, she dashed off into the night, leaving in her wake great lumps of poo that were flung in all directions as she ran. Reaching up to her face, she pulled off her gag and spat partially-liquified poo from her mouth, then she used the material to wipe most of the poo off her face. And all the while she kept on running, through alleys and back streets, until she once again reached the main road. Here, exhausted, she stopped and considered her position. She was, she decided, about halfway between her house and the hospital. Returning home would do no good - her parents would not be back for another couple of hours. She might as well continue on to the hospital.
Passing cars hooted at her as she walked along the pavement, but she did her best to ignore them. This was difficult, though - she was acutely aware of how she must look in just a shirt and panties, and covered from head to toe in poo. Groups of teenagers shouted abusive remarks at her, and sometimes she broke into a run in order to get past them more quickly. Fortunately, however, she was not molested again. After ten minutes or so she heard a bus coming up behind her, and she flagged it down.
"Please!" she exclaimed as the doors opened. "Please don't turn me away! I've been raped and abused and horrible things have been done to me - please could you take me to the hospital?"
The driver stared at her with a mixture of astonishment and shock. Then he recovered himself. "Step right aboard, love," he said. "We'll get you there in no time. Don't you worry about a thing."
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Becky climbed on board and reached for her pass. The driver, thinking she was looking for money, shook his head.
"Don't worry about the fare, love," he said. You just sit yourself down and we'll be there in a jiffy. It doesn't matter about the ... mess - I'll have it cleaned up tonight."
"Oh, thank you so much," said Becky, smiling at him with brown teeth. She took a seat on the lower deck, near the front, and the bus drove off.
In only a few minutes they had arrived outside the hospital, though in that time Becky had produced another huge pile of poo on her seat. The bus driver beckoned to her. "Here we are, love," he said. "Would you like me to accompany you in?"
Becky shook her head. "No, that's okay," she said. "Thanks for your kindness - I won't forget it."
"All in a day's work, miss," replied the driver with a cheerful grin. "You take care now."
Becky waved to him and got off the bus, dropping more faecal lumps from her panties in the process. She was exhausted now, and in pain, and the poo all over her body was beginning to get hard and crusty, but she was glad finally to be in a place where she could rest and where people would take care of her.
She found the outpatients department and reported to the reception. At every step of the way she was met with horrified looks and whispered comments, and she kept dropping poo on the hospital's nice clean floor, but she was beyond caring.
"Hello. My name's Rebecca Booth - I have a serious bowel problem," she said to the receptionist.
The receptionist stared at her in barely concealed disgust. "I can see that," she said.
"Oh - well I didn't do this to myself - a bunch of horrible men covered me with my own poo. I need to see a doctor straight away."
"Um, one moment please," said the receptionist. "Would you please wait over there? And ... would you be so good as to refrain from sitting on the seats?"
Becky frowned, then sighed. "Yeah, sure, whatever," she said. "But please hurry and get someone." She walked over to where the seats were, and stood by the far wall. Every half-minute or so she had to empty out her panties, and this fact was not lost on the receptionist, who was staring at her while talking on the phone.
Becky did not have to wait long. A nurse appeared, stopping in her tracks when she saw Becky. She consulted her clipboard. "Rebecca Booth?" she inquired.
"That's me," said Becky.
"Um, perhaps you would like to use a shower?" the nurse suggested. "It would ... facilitate the doctor's examination."
"Oh gosh yes, thank you!" said Becky. "I'm just dying to get clean. Lead the way!"
The nurse smiled. "This way please." She walked off down the corridor, and Becky followed.
"I should explain," said Becky, "that I seem to be suffering from an unusual condition wherein I can't stop pooing. This evening I've already produced several times my own weight, and it just keeps coming. I can't understand it and it's really frightening me."
The nurse turned and looked at her oddly. "I'm sure the doctor will be able to help," she said. "In there ... see? I'll bring you a towel and a robe."
"Thank you," said Becky.
Five minutes later she was relaxing under a steady stream of deliciously hot water, while vast quantities of liquid, mushy poo were building up around her feet. As much as she tried to force the stuff to go down the drain, there was just too much of it, and in the end the drain became blocked and the water level began to build up. Soon Becky was up to her ankles in a mixture of water and poo, and she was still contributing great quantities of the latter to the mess at her feet. The floor of the shower was surrounded by a little wall about four inches high, and Becky began to be concerned that the shower would overflow. She turned off the water.
She was mostly clean now. Her hair had been purged of poo, and she had scrubbed the rest of her body till no trace of brown remained. Her vagina was still fairly full, and so she spent the next few minutes trying to pry it all out with her fingers. It was a tricky task. Once she had done all she could, she squatted down at the edge of the shower stall and simply waited, while great quantities of her poo began to pile up beneath her. Partially dissolving in the semi-aqueous mixture surrounding it, the pile slowly spread outwards instead of building upwards.
Becky regarded her clothes, heaped in the corner of the stall. Saturated with poo, they were beyond salvage, she decided. It would be much better to have her parents bring her some fresh clothes.
Just then she heard the door open. "Are you all right in there?" came the nurse's voice.
"Yes thanks, fine," Becky replied. "Except that I'm kind of filling up this shower stall with poo, and it's going to overflow in a minute if something isn't done about it. It might be best if the doctor comes in here to examine me."
There was a pause. Then the nurse said, "Mind if I take a look?"
Becky, still crouching, folded her arms across her breasts. "Sure," she said.
The shower curtain was pulled back and the nurse surveyed the scene, while holding her nose against the smell. "I'll go and fetch him," she said. "In the meantime here's a towel and a robe." She hung these articles on hooks just outside the shower, then turned and left.
Becky got to her feet and pulled the shower curtain open. She figured she might as get herself as decent as possible before the doctor arrived. She took the towel first, and carefully dried herself while trying not to dip any part of the towel into the pool of mushy poo. Having done this, she replaced it on the hook and reached for the robe. This was on a more distant hook, and Becky had to lean forward to reach it, since she did not wish to step out of the shower while she was still defecating constantly.
Then her feet lost their grip on the slippery floor. In a panic, her flailing arms found the wall and pushed against it so that she fell back inside the shower, landing hard on her hip and then rolling on to her front. She winced in pain, then cursed as she realised she was now covered in poo once again. She looked up, then noticed with horror that the nurse and a balding Indian doctor were staring down at her.
"I slipped!" she said plaintively, while getting to her feet and trying to cover her breasts and pussy.
"I see," said the doctor. "Good evening Miss Booth. You seem to have made quite an impression here. May I ask what is the trouble you are experiencing?"
"I can't stop pooing!" Becky complained. "It just keeps coming out and coming out and never stopping!"
"That is quite a phenomenon," remarked the doctor. "May I see?"
Becky began to turn around, then realised with a strange mixture of relief and horror that she was no longer defecating. The interminable flow had unaccountably ceased. "I don't believe it!" she exclaimed. "It's stopped! I swear, I've been pooing continuously for about three hours now and it didn't stop until just now when I fell over. The jolt must have stopped it somehow."
"I think we had better phone your parents," said the doctor sagely. "Do they know you are here?"
"No they don't - they went out to a concert. They won't be back until ten-thirty at the earliest."
"Okay, then I suggest you finish your shower in another stall and then wait until we can contact them. Apart from that I don't really think there is much I can do."
"Oh but there is!" exclaimed Becky. "Whatever it was that caused me to poo so much is clearly still inside me! I don't know - it must be some kind of device that replicates matter. Somehow it was switched on when I started pooing three hours ago, and it didn't get switched off until just now. But it's still in there, and it could be switched back on at any time! I need an x-ray at the very least, just to see what's in there."
The doctor raised an eyebrow and looked at the nurse. Then he turned back to Becky. "We will see what your parents have to say," he said. "Tell me, how do you think this ... device ... got inside you?"
"Well I know this is going to sound crazy," said Becky, "but last night I think I was abducted by aliens. I had this dream where they gave me an anal probe - well I thought it was a dream, but now I'm not so sure. Anyway I think they must have put it inside me."
"A ... matter replicator?" The doctor looked amused.
"Yes. Don't ask me why."
"Well this is an extraordinary story, Miss Booth," said the doctor, "but I am afraid there is very little evidence for me to go on. I am not a believer in alien abductions..." Here he chuckled a little. "From what I can tell you seem to be a young lady with a passion for ... oh, what is the term ... coprophilia? I think that's it. A love of excrement. I would therefore suggest that you refrain from perpetuating this bizarre story of yours any further, and merely clean yourself up before getting in touch with your parents."
Becky stared at him, open-mouthed. "Are you blind?" she demanded. "Do you think I could produce all this poo under normal circumstances?"
The doctor shrugged. "As I understand it, you were covered in it when you came in. I am sure you had help. But I am a busy man, Miss Booth. Nurse Wilson will be on call if you need anything."
"But wait!" Becky cried desperately. "I was raped! You have to investigate that, surely?"
"You were raped?"
"Yes!" Becky insisted. "There were about ten men. First they rubbed my poo all over me, then one of them raped me, then they stuffed me full of poo."
"Are you sure they did not defecate on you?" inquired the doctor with a half-smile.
"I'm positive!" Becky threw up her hands in despair, realising how ridiculous her story must sound. But this sudden action caused semi-liquid poo to fly towards the doctor and the nurse. One piece splattered against the doctor's cheek. He frowned and produced a handkerchief, with which he wiped away the offending matter.
"Miss Booth, I am leaving now. Please do not cause any more trouble." He turned and left.
The nurse, fixing a meaningful and contemptuous glare upon Becky, followed him out.
Defeated, Becky slumped against the wall, and began to cry. Nobody would ever believe her story now, which was unpardonable when she had suffered so much! But what could she do to convince them? The whole premise was so bizarre and unheard-of - nobody in their right mind would believe it any more than they would believe anyone who claimed to have been abducted by aliens.
So the device, whatever it was, would remain inside her. Who knew what kind of trigger would set it off next time? Where would she be, and what would she be doing, when next she found herself pooing without end? It was all too horrible to think about.
The fight was all gone out of her. Dispirited and disillusioned, Becky sank to the floor, her bottom sinking into the squishy, mushy poo, which surged between her buttocks and squelched against her pussy, seeping into her moist groove. She would have to get used to this feeling, she reflected with an air of detachment. After all, when she next found her panties filling up with poo, nobody would believe that she was not doing it on purpose...


THE END