And these days, of course, the fashion was for splay-skirts – skirts with enormously wide hems supported by slender hoops of memory-wire. These impractical garments had become highly popular, despite the fact that they made ascending stairs or escalators an inevitable panty-revealing event. And whenever a girl in a splay-skirt stood against an object that pressed her hem against her thighs, the hem on the other side would swing upwards, often above waist height, exposing her entire panties to anyone looking in her direction. Some women did this for effect, feigning horror and surprise when their state of exposure was pointed out to them.
But the backlash was minimal. In truth, Britain’s government was discreetly working to perpetuate the sexualisation of young women in society, for it had a more urgent problem – falling fertility rates. Today’s food was so rich in chemical pollutants that sperm counts had dropped to an all-time low … and with them, birth rates. The male libido also seemed to be suffering – a common complaint among wives and girlfriends recently was that their partners had very little interest in sex – an astonishing and unprecedented phenomenon. So the government was doing all it could to encourage its citizens to have more sex … and this included leaning on clothing manufacturers and fashion designers to keep hemlines high, for it recognised that the male libido was driven by visual stimuli. An early trend towards larger panties, in response to the greater risk of exposure, was quickly quashed by subtle government intervention.
From the boardroom to the shop floor, therefore, career women were finding it difficult, if not impossible, to keep their panties concealed from day to day. Television presenters were notable victims of this, for their live accidental exposures were gleefully captured for posterity by viewers across the country, and publicised on the internet in all their high-definition glory.
Not all televised exposures were accidental, of course. The music industry had happily jumped on the bandwagon as female clothing became skimpier. Its female stars had in the past tended to dress more racily than the average girl on the street, and now of course this was more of a challenge. Luckily, the replacement of scheduled television programming with a slew of WWYW (“Watch When You Want”) channels had caused the notion of a 9:00pm watershed to evaporate, and now nudity on television could be accessed twenty-four hours a day. In the current sexualised climate, this meant that pop videos were becoming sexier than they had ever been. In 2024, for her “Love Me, Pretty Boy” video, nineteen-year-old Maria Gallo had shocked (and aroused) the nation by dancing in the rain in nothing but a pair of panties, her long hair doing a very poor job of covering her breasts. A year later, the hugely popular girl band Crescent Moon had performed a stripper routine for their “Summer Lust” video, which had ended in them all being completely nude (albeit from the back). Also that year, the Mackay Twins from Scotland had famously stripped off their tops and bras while on stage in Edinburgh – a performance that was almost instantly made widely available on the internet, and which featured on their next video.
In the States, of course, these videos and others had initially been blurred according to traditional broadcast values, but this practice was soon abandoned for the simple reason that the unblurred versions were easily available on the internet, and so viewers in their millions were switching off the channels showing blurred versions. For competitive reasons, the blurring of nudity on American television ceased practically overnight.
In Britain in 2027, female pop stars flirted more and more with nudity. Shannon Ferguson’s infamous ‘pussy wedgie’ caused a storm of controversy, but the fuss died down soon enough with a little help from an internal scandal which caused veteran complaints body Mediawatch UK to self-destruct. A couple of months later, the high-definition close-up of Shannon’s thong had been superseded as a conversation piece by the antics of other exhibitionistic pop idols.
The government was not just relying on the visual stimuli afforded by music videos and street fashions, however. Since sexually-transmitted diseases, even AIDS, were now merely minor inconveniences, and easily treatable, advertising for condoms had been banned, and indeed condoms themselves were not so easily found these days. The same was true of the contraceptive pill and other preventative devices. In 2021 the age of consent had been reduced to fourteen, and nowadays sentences for statutory rape were token at best, and even rape rarely earned a sentence of more than a year. Abortions had been banned entirely, in 2024 – and not for reasons of religion or morality. The country simply needed more babies.
The results of all these measures were encouraging, from the government’s point of view. By 2028, birth rates were beginning to recover. Teenage pregnancies were up almost 40% from the 2020 figures, though a worrying number of these were still failing to come to term. And so the government think-tanks continued to work at the problem…
******************
“Would you just look at that!” exclaimed Lara Greaves, pointing at the television. “Grant, look!”
“I’m looking,” said Grant Greaves mildly, as he watched the pretty young newsreader on their 50-inch wall-screen.
“They’ve changed her desk!” said Lara indignantly. “Or they’ve lit it differently, or something – it’s obscene!”
What she was referring to was not really the desk or the lighting, but the brilliant white triangle between the newsreader’s legs. It did indeed look as if there was a light specially shining at her crotch beneath the frontless desk. On their large, ultra-high resolution screen, the triangle was nearly three inches across, so plenty of detail could be seen in terms of contouring, the pattern of the material, and a slightly darker area running down the middle.
“What the…” began Lara, as the white triangle suddenly doubled in size. “Good grief Grant, don’t zoom in on it!”
“Oops,” apologised Grant, and he zoomed back out. “Slip of the finger.”
“For heaven’s sake switch to another angle,” said Lara. “Why on Earth doesn’t she cross her legs if she’s going to wear a skirt that short? Doesn’t she realise the camera can see under her desk?”
“Of course she does,” said Grant. “It’s just another ploy to get the nation horny.”
Lara pursed her lips. “You know I don’t like that word Grant,” she said.
“My apologies,” said Grant. “Aroused, then.”
“Did you know that workplace productivity is down two percent since five years ago?” said Lara. “How is the country going to maintain its strong economy if women are flaunting their bodies at work and distracting the men?”
Grant shrugged. “I read another study that says productivity is up,” he said. “It depends who you ask.”
“Well it drives me crazy that more people aren’t as outraged as I am about the moral decay going on in this country,” said Lara vehemently. “I know there’s a fertility problem, but we should be tackling that by reducing the number of pollutants, not by getting everyone to have more sex!”
“They are tackling the pollution problem,” Grant reminded her. “But it’s a slow and costly process to clean up the planet, particularly since certain other countries are polluting faster than ever at the moment.”
“Goodness, Grant, I thought you would be on my side!” said Lara peevishly.
“Oh I am, I am,” Grant assured her. “I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
Lara glanced at the clock, then clicked her tongue impatiently. “Where on Earth are the girls? They’d better not make us late for church.”
Grant raised his eyebrows. “Church isn’t for two hours,” he remarked. “They’ve got plenty of time.”
“Yes but you know how they like to disappear for hours at a time,” she said. “Goodness knows what they get up to. Besides, this is a big day for Emma. Would you please go and round them up?”
“They’re young, and having fun,” said Grant. “The farm’s a big place – by the time I find them I’ll be late for church myself. I’m sure they’ll be back in plenty of time – Emma’s been looking forward to today, after all. At least you could be grateful that they’re not out with boys.”
“Yes, there is that,” admitted Lara. She sighed. “Oh very well, I suppose you’re right. Just this once.”
Grant chuckled, and they smiled fondly at each other. After sixteen years of marriage, they were still very much in love, despite the occasional argument (which stemmed, very often, from Lara’s somewhat volatile personality).
******************
Emma and Poppy Greaves giggled as they chased each other among the cows in the lower field. “Tig!” said Poppy, as she skimmed Emma’s elbow with her outstretched fingers. “You’re it!” Both girls skidded to a stop and reversed direction, but Poppy, being the faster runner, quickly gained a good lead, and she interposed between herself and her sister a large Jersey cow with a white patch on its head. It turned to watch her mournfully as it re-chewed its last meal.
Emma tried to dash around the front of the cow, but Poppy merely danced around its rump, keeping the animal between herself and her sister. It looked up at Emma with its huge brown eyes, regarding her placidly – it was quite used to the girls and their games. Emma dashed around to the side of the cow again, and once more found herself looking at her sister over the top of its back. “Come on,” she said, “this is a stalemate.”
Poppy grinned, panting slightly. At fourteen years and two months, she was the younger of the two by over a year, but she had inherited her slim physique from her mother, and she loved sports. Emma, by contrast, took after her father’s side of the family – Grant’s mother was rather round, as was he himself. Fortunately Emma was very conscious of her weight, so she was certainly not fat, but her large breasts, rosy-cheeked round face and generous bottom were all hallmarks of her paternal ancestry. She was happy enough with her figure, but it was not exactly conducive to a lot of running around.
So she improvised. Slapping the cow on the rump, she shouted, “Move, Daisy!”
But the cow merely turned and looked back at her, before stooping and nosing at the ground.
“This is Ethel, not Daisy,” said Poppy. “Daisy’s over there.” She pointed, and for a moment was not looking at Emma.
Seizing her chance, Emma ducked low and scuttled underneath the cow, her hand reaching out towards Poppy’s shins. Her timing, however, proved unfortunate, for the cow at this moment decided to move off in search of greener pastures, and it began to walk forward. Its udder collided with Emma’s shoulder, bowling the girl over as Poppy burst out laughing at her sister’s predicament.
Emma’s understandable chagrin quickly turned to alarm, as she tried to avoid the cow’s hind feet as it tried to step over her. “Stop her!” she shrieked at Poppy.
“Woah Ethel, woah!” said Poppy, grabbing the cow around the neck and digging her feet in.
The bemused cow stopped in its tracks. “Are you all right?” asked Poppy in concern, looking underneath the animal at her sister.
“I’m fine,” reported Emma, “except that it’s standing on my t-shirt.” She was pinned between the cow’s hind legs, and lying on her back with her feet pointing forwards. Her white t-shirt, now streaked with mud, was stretched tight across her breasts on account of the cow’s right hind hoof standing on the excess material at her side. “Get it to move off again.”
But the cow had other ideas. It lifted its tail slightly, and then a torrent of urine poured down on the stricken girl’s chest and belly, soaking her t-shirt and turning it transparent in seconds. She squealed, then spluttered and spat as urine splashed into her mouth.
Poppy started to giggle, then she stopped and simply watched in fascination as her sister was deluged with Ethel’s pee. For some reason, she found she was enjoying the sight of Emma struggling to free herself as the yellow waterfall poured down on her breasts … and not just from a sense of sadistic satisfaction at her big sister’s come-uppance. No … she was distinctly … aroused.
And then Ethel raised her tail a little higher, and Poppy gasped as she realised what was about to happen. For a second she thought about warning Emma, but she quickly decided she would rather watch the drama unfold.
Emma, wiping splashes of urine from her face, was caught completely off guard by the stream of semi-liquid shit that now descended from the cow’s anus. It hit her full in the mouth – too late she sealed her lips – and then it poured all over her face, obscuring her mouth, nose and eyes in a brown avalanche.
Ethel moved off, leaving Emma spitting manure and wiping her face with an expression of utter misery emerging from beneath the mess. The cow’s shit now dropped on to her t-shirt, where every detail of her bra was visible underneath the thin, sodden material.
“I can’t … fucking … believe this!” Emma screamed.
“Poor thing,” said Poppy sympathetically, but then she smiled uncertainly. “What did it feel like?” she asked curiously.
“What did what feel like?” demanded Emma irritably.
“Having Ethel … pee all over you,” said Poppy.
Emma stared at her. “It felt gross, of course!” she said. “Why?”
Poppy shrugged and said defensively, “No reason – I was just asking, that’s all.”
“Come on – let’s go to the river,” said Emma. “I don’t want to go back to the house looking like this.”
As they walked, Poppy asked, “Was it warm?”
Emma stared at her again. “What, the pee? Yes of course it was fucking warm, it had just come from inside a fucking cow!” She shook her head in bemusement. “Why do you ask? Do you like the idea of a cow peeing on you?”
“No! Of course not!” said Poppy quickly. “I was just … just wondering.”
“Well let me satisfy your curiosity,” said Emma. She grabbed Poppy by the arm and swung her around, pulling her into a tight embrace.
Poppy gasped, and then she felt the dampness of Emma’s t-shirt soaking into her own. She looked down into her sister’s eyes – she was the taller of the two by a good three inches – and found them regarding her with a calculating look.
“Feel nice, does it?” asked Emma sardonically. “I notice you’re not trying to get away.”
Poppy blushed, and pulled away from her sister. “You’re mean,” she said, pouting.
As they continued to walk, she pressed her t-shirt against her belly and bra-clad breasts. The material was damp – slightly – but it could hardly compare with Emma’s experience.
“Look, Poppy,” said Emma after a moment, “I didn’t mean to be a bitch. I’m just really disgusted by what just happened, and I guess I wanted to take it out on you. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” said Poppy. Then, after a moment, she grinned. “You look pretty sexy in a wet t-shirt, you know.” Then she squealed and started running as Emma growled and began to chase her.
Emma stripped off her shoes and jeans when they got to the river, and then she waded in to wash herself off as thoroughly as possible. Poppy, after watching Emma for a moment, did the same. Both of them took off their t-shirts and bras to wash them, and then they had fun splashing water at each other for a few minutes. Wearing just their soaking wet panties, and carrying their other wet clothes, they climbed out and lay in the sun to dry.
“What time is it?” asked Emma suddenly.
Poppy looked at her watch. “Ten-fifteen,” she said.
“Shit,” said Emma. “I need to go home and get ready – I’ve got my audition today.”
“Oh yes!” said Poppy. “I’d forgotten about that. Come on – let’s get dressed.”
Once they had put their clothes back on, Emma looked down critically at her breasts. “Do I really look sexy in a wet t-shirt?” she asked.
Poppy burst out laughing, and then so did Emma. They headed back up towards the house, still giggling sporadically. Halfway there, Emma said, “I hope Mum doesn’t flip when she sees us like this.”
Poppy just shrugged. “We’ll say we got muddy and rinsed our clothes in the river. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Emma nodded. “All the same, I think I’ll keep my arms folded when we go indoors.”
Her sister laughed. “You’re really getting a complex about that, aren’t you? Come on Em, it’s just Mum and Dad.”
“Yeah, but you know what Mum’s like about sexy clothing,” said Emma. “I swear she’s SO old-fashioned it just isn’t funny.”
“True,” agreed Poppy. “So what are you going to wear today?”
“Long white dress – the one Mum says looks ‘virginal’.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“Yuck!” said Poppy. “And you’re going along with that?”
“What choice do I have?” snapped Emma. Then she shrugged. “It might work – this is a church thing, after all. A lot of the other girls will be wearing short skirts and dresses, so if the judges are real prudes then I might get extra credit.”
“Yeah, well good luck,” said Poppy. “You’ll look like you’re getting married.”
“Great – thanks,” said Emma, her stomach curling at the thought.
They made it upstairs without encountering their parents, and then Emma showered and put her clothes on. When she grumpily came thumping down the stairs, her mother beamed with pride. “You look gorgeous!” she said.
“I look like a bride,” Emma muttered.
Grant came out of the living room to investigate. “Good heavens Lara, she can’t wear that old thing!” he said. “She’ll be laughed out of church!”
Lara frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with it!” she said. “I think it looks very becoming.”
“Dear, I think a little compromise may be needed here between your own standards and the current fashion trends.”
“I agree,” said Poppy, coming down the stairs in a low-cut t-shirt and a little splay skirt.
Lara looked up, and gasped at the sight of Poppy’s pink panties descending towards her. “Poppy, how many times have I told you – no splay skirts in church!”
“Oh but Mum!” complained Poppy. “This one isn’t very splayed, and it’s not even that short!”
“It’s short enough!” shuddered Lara. “Now go and put on something more appropriate.”
Poppy, glowering, stomped back up the stairs and disappeared into her room.
“You too, Emma,” said Grant.
“What?” said Lara.
“Come on Lara, times have changed,” said Grant. “You’ve seen the fashions in church – can’t you go and find something for Emma to wear that will at least not look as if it’s come from a different century?”
Lara grimaced. “I suppose so,” she said. “Come on then Emma.”
In the end, Emma wore a shimmering silver skirt that came down to mid-thigh, and a cream-coloured blouse. The skirt felt about ten years out of date, but it was a lot better than the white dress. Poppy, for her part, wore a tight black skirt that stopped three inches below her buttocks.
“Better,” approved Lara. “Let’s go.”
******************
The service was normal enough to begin with, but today there was a special twist – several girls from the choir and congregation were to audition for a new girl band – the brainchild of a local evangelist who wished to set up a ‘wholesome’ alternative to the lewdness of the current crop of female pop stars.
Emma was the third girl to audition. She fought down the butterflies in her stomach, and then sang a favourite hymn of her mother’s: “Who Can Measure the Depth of God’s Love”. She sang it perfectly, and the congregation applauded appreciatively. It turned out that Emma was not the most conservatively dressed singer – but nor was she by any means the most skimpily dressed. One girl had had the poor judgment to wear a very short splay dress which, when she raised her arms to the heavens in praise of Jesus, rose several inches to reveal her love-heart patterned panties. The end of her performance was met with a stony silence, and a few embarrassed words of thanks from the minister.
Emma won. Her parents were thrilled, and hugged her and kissed her until she wanted to run away screaming. But she was very excited herself when evangelist Terry Cochran himself came over to introduce himself and tell her what was in store.
“You’ll be meeting the rest of the band on Tuesday evening,” he said. “There’s no need for you to miss any school. Here’s the address.” He handed her a card. “On Tuesday we’ll just go over what we expect from you all, and discuss our plans for the immediate future, and then we’ll start rehearsing on Saturday.”
“This is so awesome!” said Poppy to Emma on the way home. “I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks,” smiled Emma. “I’m sorry Mum wouldn’t let you audition – you’ve got just as good a voice as I have.”
“Yeah, well … thanks,” said Poppy, her own smile fading. “It’s not as good as yours, really, but all the same I would love to have auditioned…”
“You’re too young,” Grant reminded her from the front of the car. “Emma’s just finished her exams – you have way too much holiday work to do this summer.”
“But Emma’s got more exams coming up – and more important ones too!” complained Poppy, her resentment bubbling to the surface.
“Not for two years,” said Grant mildly. “Or three, if necessary.”
Emma, being academically gifted, was a year ahead of her contemporaries. She would only just have turned seventeen when the time came to take her university entrance exams, but if this band thing became at all successful, she could always take those exams the following year. She had discussed all this at length with her parents, who were torn between wanting her to succeed academically and wanting her to be a teen ambassador for the church. At least, Grant was torn. Lara was wholeheartedly in favour of Emma’s potential musical/evangelical career.
******************
On Monday evening, therefore, when Lara received a call from Terry which began “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a problem”, she almost had a panic attack. But it turned out to be a minor logistical difficulty.
“We’re no longer going to be meeting at the address I gave Emma, unfortunately, Mrs Greaves. It seems there was a scheduling conflict – an error on the part of our secretary here, I’m afraid. “We’ll now be meeting at the rectory in Walton. It’s a bit cramped, but we’ll be all right.”
“Cramped?” repeated Lara. “Well if you need somewhere with space, you could always use our living room – it’s enormous. Or a barn if you need something really big.”
Terry raised his eyebrows. “A barn? You live on a farm?”
“Yes,” said Lara cheerfully. “Lots of space here.”
”Well … you know, that might actually work pretty nicely. I believe you’re pretty centrally located…
“We’re just outside Cowthorpe,” said Lara.
”Right – well that’s perfect then – if I could just get your address and some directions…?”
And thus it was that the following night, Emma met with two other girls, plus Terry, plus Val Hopkins, a record producer from Manchester that Terry was apparently acquainted with, plus a lady called Marge whom Terry introduced as a ‘style guru’, and a nerdy-looking young man called Brian who said that he would be writing their songs. They all sat around in the Greaves’s living room, and chatted informally about the band.
“Now before we begin,” said Terry, “I should mention that Francesca is not in fact late – she’s not coming. Apparently she had auditioned without her parents’ permission, so … she won’t be joining the band. I’ve not had time to find a replacement yet, but I thought we should still get together and talk about what we’re doing and where we’re going.”
“That’s all very well,” said Val, looking annoyed, “but I came here in part to hear how the girls sound together. If we don’t have the entire band here yet, then I really shouldn’t have bothered coming.”
“Now don’t be melodramatic,” said Terry gently. “You can still listen to these three, and then perhaps we can figure out what’s missing from the sound and better inform our choice as to a fourth singer.”
Val grunted. “I suppose so,” he said.
“My sister could fill in as a fourth voice if you like,” Emma offered suddenly. “She’s got a lovely voice – I’m sure you’ll like her.”
Val shook his head, but Terry looked interested. “If she can sing in tune, then I don’t see why not.”
“I think she’s feeding the chickens at the moment,” said Emma, getting to her feet, “but I’m sure she’ll be done pretty soon.”
“Certainly,” said Val. “Why not. Go and get her then.” He looked and sounded rather surly as he said this.
“I’ll be right back!” Emma promised, and she dashed out of the room.
She almost collided with her mother. “Mum!” she said, shocked. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“Of course not!” said Lara. “I was just passing … but I couldn’t help overhearing. Your sister’s feeding the chickens – tell her she’ll have to get changed before she meets Terry and his friends.”
“I will,” said Emma, and she hurried through the kitchen and out of the back door.
Entering the chicken shed at one end, she saw her sister at the far end, standing with her back to Emma. Thinking it would be fun to sneak up and surprise Poppy, Emma crept as quietly as she could along the length of the shed. As she approached Poppy, however, she paused in puzzlement – what was her sister doing?
The lighting in the shed was poor, but Emma was sure that the inside legs of Poppy’s jeans were dark with wetness. As she watched in mounting shock, she saw a yellow trickle drip out of the left leg and soak into the floor. Poppy was peeing herself! Moreover, from the way her arm was tucked around in front of her, and the little moans and gasps Poppy was uttering, it seemed that her sister was masturbating!
“Poppy?”
Poppy whirled around, her eyes wide with panic. “Er, hi!” she said, her cheeks blushing crimson. “Er, I was just, um, feeding the chickens…”
“Whatever – it’s none of my business,” said Emma, trying to suppress a giggle. “Now hurry up and go and change. One of my fellow bandmembers has quit already, so we need a stand-in for this evening. Are you interested?”
“Yes!” said Poppy immediately. Then she looked down at her pee-soaked jeans. “Oh heck.”
“Go and change!” said Emma. “Hurry. Meet us in the living room as soon as you’re ready. Look smart – and no splay skirts. You know you can’t sit down properly in them.”
“Yes I can!” said Poppy indignantly.
“Are you going to argue with me or are you going to come and impress Terry and this record producer guy?”
“I’m going, I’m going,” said Poppy, and she hurried off.
“Make sure you don’t smell of pee when you join us!” Emma called after her.
“Shut up!” Poppy hissed back, before disappearing around the corner.
Chuckling to herself, Emma rejoined the others in the living room. They were discussing the band’s name.
“How about the Princesses?” suggested Terry.
“Too arrogant-sounding,” said Val. “It may go down well with the Christian market, but if you want to have any hope at all of breaking through, you don’t want them to sound like they’re too holier-than-thou.”
“I see,” said Terry. “Well, mainstream success would certainly be the ultimate goal. How about the Nice Girls?”
“No offence, Terry,” said Marge, “but you suck at naming bands.”
While the adults talked, Emma studied her fellow band members. Chloe was raven-haired, stunningly attractive, and looked a little older than Emma – maybe sixteen years old. She had a willowy figure, and exuded a grace and poise that made Emma instantly envious. Beautifully tanned and with dark brown eyes, she had an almost exotic look – as if she had some Mediterranean blood, perhaps. She was wearing a very short green sundress which kept threatening to reveal her panties, except that she was much too skilled at getting up, sitting down, and crossing and uncrossing her legs without showing anything. The girl had class.
Rosie, on the other hand, was very different – a fifteen-year-old redhead with flawless but very pale skin. Her hair was parted down the middle and plaited, a look which made her seem a little nerdy, especially when coupled with her round glasses. She and Brian looked like they would make quite a cute couple. Her wide eyes seemed all the wider behind her glasses, giving her an air of innocence which was corroborated by her knee-length denim dress with a large picture of Winnie the Pooh on the front. She was also wearing long white socks which stopped an inch or so above her knees. Less expert than Chloe in the art of leg-crossing, she inadvertently allowed Emma to see the top of her right sock and a considerable distance up the inside of her right thigh a couple of times in the space of ten minutes. Not that Emma was looking, of course.
A thundering of feet on the stairs heralded Poppy’s arrival. Emma got to her feet as the door opened. “Allow me to introduce my younger sister, Poppy.”
Poppy bounced in with her eyes shining. “Hello!” she said, shaking the first hand that was proffered to her – it happened to be Brian’s. “I’m Poppy.”
Emma smiled to herself. Poppy had ignored her request about not wearing a splay skirt, though to be fair it was not as splayed as most. At the hem it gave her legs about five inches of clearance all the way around. Emma hoped that her sister would be careful about how she sat down.
And so she was. The rule of thumb with splay skirts was this: never sit down on the back of the skirt. If you did, the front of the skirt would flip up and expose your panties to the world. Unless, that is, you held down the middle of the front of the skirt, in which case the hoops would cause the skirt to bulge awkwardly around your hand. By far the best method was to hold on to the front of the skirt and sit down so that the hem hoop ended up resting across your legs at the front and on the seat just behind your bottom at the back. This had the drawback of exposing the sides of your legs almost to the hip if you were sitting on a hard surface, but on a nice squishy sofa or armchair – something your bottom could sink into – it worked brilliantly. Poppy chose a nice comfy armchair and sat down with a care that made Emma nod with satisfaction.
Emma herself was wearing a pair of capris and a sweatshirt. She felt suddenly very drab and unattractive in this company.
Brian had been delighted to find a piano in the living room. He played them a tune of his devising, and passed out lyric sheets. The song was called “Wait for Your Wedding Night”.
“I think this is a very appropriate song for the girls to start with,” said Terry. “They are all old enough to get married now, thanks to that awful new law, and since the government insists on encouraging teenagers to have sex willy-nilly and without protection or thought for the future, this will be a nice counterbalance to their campaign. Good work, Brian.”
“Thanks,” said Brian. “Now ladies, if you could repeat the following line after me.” He played a few bars on the piano, and then repeated them, singing, “What is wrong with the world today”.
The girls dutifully followed his lead, and within a few minutes they had the entire song down pat – it was not a complex or varied piece. Then Brian began teaching them harmonies, but after a few minutes of singing together, Val held up his hand. “Okay,” he said, “I’ve heard enough. Terry, could I perhaps have a word with you alone?”
He and Terry left the room. “Poppy’s perfect,” said Val. “I strongly suggest we make her the fourth member of the group.”
“Ah, but I’m not sure whether she’s allowed,” said Terry. “I gather her parents feel she’s a little young…”
“How old is she?” asked Val.
“Fourteen,” said Terry.
“And that’s too young because…?” said Val. “Listen Terry, she’s a perfect fit. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve got a blonde, a brunette, a redhead and a girl with black hair. We’ve got an athletic girl, a nerdy girl, an exotic beauty, and a girl-next-door type with big boobs. All of them are pretty girls, but crucially, they all look very different. And they can all sing! It’s a marketing man’s dream.”
“I’m not sure I like your comment on Emma’s … uh … buxom figure,” said Terry. “I refuse to exploit or emphasize the sexuality of these girls – they’re supposed to be the antidote to all that.”
“Yeah yeah, okay, I know,” said Val. “But my point is, they work well together, and I think we should take advantage of that. Now do you want to talk to Poppy’s parents or shall I?”
Terry nodded. “I’ll talk to them,” he said.
It was a smooth and persuasive sales pitch, and one which immediately won Lara over. Grant took a little more convincing, but once Val had reassured him that the record company would pay for a tutor if necessary to bring Poppy up to speed with her schoolwork, he reluctantly agreed.
“I’ve had an idea,” said Marge, later in the evening. “The band should have a theme, okay? I don’t just mean the theme of Christianity – I mean a cultural theme that informs their clothing choices, the nature of their videos, and so on.”
“You have something in mind?” asked Val.
“I do,” said Marge. “Since two members of our group are farm girls, why not run with that? Have all the girls dress up as farm girls – call the band The Farm Girls or something like that, and shoot our first video on this very farm. Or another farm – doesn’t matter. The costumes would be simple but eye-catching, and it will give the band a distinctive look which will make them instantly recognisable to your average boy or girl on the street.”
Val nodded slowly. “I like it. How about ‘The Farmer’s Daughters’?”
“That’s cool,” agreed Brian.
“Sounds okay to me,” said Terry. “So what kind of look are you thinking of? Straw hats and smocks?”
Marge stared at him. “They’re farm girls, not village idiots,” she said. “I thought we might go with a denim theme.”
“Hey, that could be good,” said Terry. “Maybe one girl in dungarees, one in jeans, one in a denim dress perhaps…”
“Something like that,” said Marge, “yes. But perhaps a little more eye-catching. I was thinking more of Daisy Dukes and denim miniskirts, with perhaps a cute little denim jacket or a denim crop-top.”
Val smiled. “Yes, that could really work. Especially on the other side of the pond. Four British girls in ranch-style gear – that could be a winning gimmick.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” said Brian. “The look would suggest country music – you might cause some confusion in the States if you have these ranch girls singing Christian pop.”
Val shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge as and when. In the meantime, ladies and gents, it’s getting late and I have to get back to Manchester. Early meeting tomorrow.”
Marge said quickly, “Perhaps I could quickly measure the girls for their outfits before I go?”
“Go ahead,” said Val. “Good idea. Well, good night everyone.”
Once he had gone, Marge spent a few minutes taking all four girls’ measurements, then she, too, bade them goodnight and left, along with Brian and Terry.
Emma and Poppy went to their respective beds, both feeling excited about the adventure ahead of them.
******************
The next day at school was an unusual one, and temporarily drove thoughts of pop stardom from the girls’ heads. At morning assembly, the headmaster had an announcement.
“I know that last year we banned splay skirts,” he said, “and speaking personally I still disapprove of them, but the Department of Education has now issued some clothing regulations which will overturn that ban, amongst other things. The department has insisted that these rules must be followed. According to the regulations, therefore, I have drawn up a new school dress code, which I will post on the main noticeboard in corridor D. I apologise for issuing this code so close to the end of the summer term, but legally I cannot let the current code stand for another day. These new clothing rules will be effective as of tomorrow morning. Just so that you all know what to expect, I will read through the dress code now.”
Murmurs filled the room as the headmaster fished out and donned his glasses. There were three hundred pupils at St Mark’s, two thirds of them girls (it had until recently been an all-girl school), and all of them aged between twelve and eighteen. Several of the girls were pregnant, including one thirteen-year-old who refused to name the father.
The headmaster cleared his throat. “The following rules apply to the boys,” he said, reading from a booklet in his hand. “Shoes must be clean and in good repair.” He turned the page. “The following rules apply to all girls over the age of consent. Uh, that would be, uh, fourteen, of course. One – skirts or dresses must be worn. Skorts are not allowed, nor are shorts or trousers of any kind. Two – skirts must be short enough to reveal at least part of the panties while standing upright, when viewed from the front. Skirts may not be longer at the back than they are at the front.”
He cleared his throat again. “Three – panties must be worn. They may not be full-cut. The top of the waistband must be no more than three inches above the, uh, clitoris, and at the back it should be no more than an inch above the top of the buttock cleavage.”
Titters ran through the hall as the headmaster said the word ‘clitoris’, and again at the words ‘buttock cleavage’. He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. Then he cleared his throat again. “Furthermore, panties may not cover more than fifty percent of the buttocks. Panties may be as skimpy as desired, but at a minimum there must be at least some material connecting the front to the back between the legs, and the clitoris must be covered.
“Four – tops must be sleeveless in the summer, and cut low enough to expose at least part of the bra. Five – all tops, or dresses if applicable, must bear a department-approved slogan, with lettering clearly defined and no less than one inch in height.” He lowered his notebook. “This morning a consignment of labels bearing such slogans arrived at the school shop. These may be affixed to your current tank-tops, halter-tops or boob tubes, which are apparently now acceptable attire for female pupils. As of the start of next term, however, these slogans are expected to be printed on your tops, or dresses, if you are wearing a dress instead of a skirt.”
He raised his notebook again. “Six – bras are optional. If a bra is not worn, then the pupil may be required to demonstrate that her top is cut low enough to reveal part of a bra, if one were worn. Seven – no tights may be worn. Stockings are acceptable, as are socks. Shoes must be clean and in good repair.”
He turned another page. “The following rules apply to girls under the age of consent. One – skirts or dresses must be worn. Skorts are not allowed, nor are shorts or trousers of any kind. Two – skirts and dresses must cover the panties, but the hemline may not be lower than two inches below the buttocks. Three – tops must not bear any slogan, and they must cover the bra, if one is worn, or the entire breast area otherwise. Four – panties must be worn. Five – no tights may be worn. Stockings are acceptable, as are socks. Shoes must be clean and in good repair.”
He put the notebook down. “These rules are, of course, designed to encourage all pupils over the age of consent to have sex with each other. You may not have sex during lessons, nor during meals, nor during assembly. You may not have sex in the classrooms or corridors. You are encouraged, however, to have sex during breaks, free periods, and after lunch, in the dormitories which have been set up on the third floor. You all know where they are by now. That is all – thank you for your attention.”
As Emma left with her friend Helen, she muttered, “Jeez, they’re really pushing this aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” said Helen. “Pretty soon they’ll be requiring us to have sex whether we want to or not. Have you told your mum yet about the dormitories?”
Emma shivered. “No way – she’d flip out completely. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep this latest dress code from her though – she sees what we wear to school every day.”
“Maybe she’ll take you out of school,” said Helen. “Transfer you to somewhere else.”
“Didn’t you hear Beardy? These rules have come from the department of education – any school we go to will have the same dress code.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Helen. “Well perhaps she’ll get you a tutor or something.”
“But I don’t want one!” said Emma. “I like it here! Of course I’d like it better if we didn’t have to wear such tiny skirts. Hey, what’s going to happen in the winter? We’ll freeze with the current dress code.”
“I don’t know,” said Helen. “But I’m sure as hell not going to wear sleeveless tops in freezing temperatures.”
“Me neither,” agreed Emma. She thought about her prospects of singing in a girl band, and for the first time began to wonder whether perhaps a tutor might not be such a bad idea. But she had not told anyone at school about her musical plans, and she still did not want to yet. After the summer holidays perhaps, when things were further advanced…
******************
Back at the farm that afternoon, Emma and Poppy went out to do their chores. While they were filling the cows’ water troughs, Poppy said, “How cool is it that we’re going to be in a band?”
“Very cool,” said Emma. “But it’s not happened yet, so I don’t want to get too excited at the idea. When we’re on stage performing in front of thousands of people, then maybe it will seem real. At the moment I still feel like it’s just a fantasy.”
“Well it’s not,” said Poppy, “so you’d better get used to the idea. What do you think you’ll end up wearing?”
Emma shrugged. “Well I don’t have your legs,” she said, “so I’m sure I’ll end up wearing jeans or a long skirt. You’ll probably end up in the miniskirt or the ‘Daisy Dukes’, whatever they are.”
“I asked about that,” said Poppy. “Apparently they’re really short shorts. Something to do with an old Jessica Simpson movie.” Then she cocked her head on one side. “Anyway I don’t know what you mean about your legs – they’re perfectly nice. You look good in miniskirts.”
Emma smiled. “Thanks Poppy,” she said. “But they’re not skinny like those of pop stars.”
Poppy chuckled. “Perhaps not, but you have a big advantage over most of them.”
“What’s that – the fact that I can sing?”
“No,” said Poppy. “Your giant boobs.”
Emma pouted, and then splashed water at Poppy, who squealed and danced out of reach. Emma gave chase, and whooped as Poppy slipped in a patch of mud and fell. In a second, Emma was on top of her, pinning her down. “Giant?” she demanded.
“Giant is good!” squeaked Poppy. “A good thing!”
“I should smother you with them,” Emma retorted.
Poppy giggled, and then she wrenched her hands free, and started tickling Emma.
“Don’t tickle me!” gasped Emma, trying to fight off Poppy’s hands while maintaining her position, straddling Poppy’s midsection. “You know it makes me pee.” Then her eyes widened. “That’s it!” she accused Poppy. “You want me to pee on you!”
Poppy blushed deeply. “Do not,” she muttered. But her eyes were shining with anticipation.
Emma had not bothered changing into her jeans yet, so she was still wearing the short pleated skirt she had worn to school. Consequently there was only the thin fabric of her panties between her crotch and her sister’s t-shirt. She actually did need to pee…
Poppy gasped as she felt the liquid warmth soak her t-shirt just above her belly-button, and spread outwards from there. She stopped trying to tickle Emma, and simply lay still, savouring the feeling of Emma’s pee drenching her front.
Emma, in truth, was a little aroused herself. This was a very naughty thing she was doing – peeing her panties – and it actually felt rather nice. The fact that she was peeing on her sister – well, that was very naughty indeed. She raised herself up and shuffled forwards so that she was poised over Poppy’s breasts. Poppy lifted the front of Emma’s skirt and watched in awe as Emma’s pee poured through her white cotton panties and descended in a little cataract to between her breasts. Catching some of it in her hand, she poured it on to her right breast and started rubbing it in.
“You’re really quite a nasty little slut, aren’t you?” remarked Emma, grinning.
Poppy pouted. “I’m not the one peeing myself.”
“But you’re the one enjoying it,” said Emma. “Aren’t you?”
Poppy blushed and nodded. Then she raised her wet hand to her face and licked her palm.
“Yuck!” said Emma. “You drink it too?”
Poppy squirmed in embarrassment. “It’s not unhealthy,” she said. “I read about it on the internet. It’s sterile.”
Emma stopped peeing, and thought for a moment. She was getting quite horny, despite herself. “Well if you like the taste so much,” she said, a little huskily, “perhaps you had better suck it out of my panties.”
Poppy gasped and shook her head, but did not try to escape as Emma shuffled forward some more and lowered her panty-clad crotch towards her mouth. The wet panties had moulded themselves to the contours of Emma’s pussy, and there was a little bump where Emma’s clitoris was. As the sodden, aromatic material descended, Poppy opened her mouth and enclosed Emma’s clit with her lips. Then she began to suck.
Emma shivered at the sensation, then started moaning with pleasure – this felt really nice! “Oh God!” she whispered. “Yeah, Poppy, keep sucking. You little pee slut. Ohhh…”
Moments later she was trembling in orgasm, and uttering rapturous moans. Then, as she came down off her high, she climbed off Poppy, who was looking rather ashamed and worried. Emma smiled at her to reassure her. “I don’t know, Poppy,” she said. “I think you must be a lesbian – you did that awfully well.”
Poppy covered her face in embarrassment. “Oh Em,” she said. “Am I evil?” She began to cry.
“Heck no!” said Emma, annoyed. “Come off it, Poppy – I guess that was fun for both of us. I’ll admit it – peeing on you was kind of hot. And I loved … the sucking part. So I guess we’re both lesbians, to a certain extent.”
Poppy got to her feet. “Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” asked Emma. “For peeing on you?”
Poppy nodded, and smiled a little nervously. “Would you do it again?”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” she said. Then she grinned. “Would you suck my pussy again?”
Poppy blushed. “If you want,” she said.
The girls never got around to changing out of the skirts they had worn to school. They finished their chores and then took the dogs out for a walk. Ben was a Great Dane – a huge dog with as sweet a personality as you could imagine. Solomon was a Mastiff – also enormous – who could be a little aggressive with strangers as it was very protective of the two girls.
As they passed the cow field, Emma smiled. “I could hold Ben for a while if you want to go in there and lie under a cow,” she said.
Poppy hung her head. “Don’t tease,” she said.
“I’m serious!” said Sam. “Would you like to?”
Poppy paused and looked into the field. “Um, maybe,” she said.
“Tell me,” said Emma. “Did you like everything that happened to me in there? Or was it just the pee shower?”
“Huh? Oh, you mean the … the shit shower?” asked Poppy. She shrugged. “That looked kind of fun too, I guess.”
Emma laughed and shook her head. “This is a new side of you I never knew existed,” she said. “So, would it turn you on if I shat on you?”
Poppy fairly squirmed in embarrassment. “Yeah – probably,” she said in a small voice.
Emma grinned. “Well, I don’t really need to go right now,” she said. “How about you?”
The younger girl nodded. “Actually yes – I haven’t been in a couple of days.”
“Okay then,” said Emma, licking her lips, “let’s see you piss and shit yourself.”
Poppy looked around in concern. “Here?”
“Sure! Why not? We can’t be seen from the house.”
Poppy hesitated for a moment, then she handed Ben’s leash to her sister. Turning away, she spread her feet about fifteen inches apart and leaned against a fencepost.
“Lift your skirt,” said Emma. “I want to see it happen.” She was not sure why, but the prospect of watching her sister mess herself was causing her considerable arousal. Taking both leashes in her left hand, she pulled up her own skirt a little and started rubbing her pussy through her panties.
Poppy grasped the sides of her skirt with both hands, and pulled upwards, revealing her little white panties. She relaxed her bladder, and a stream of golden pee surged out of her urethra, flooding her panties and soaking them instantly. The liquid poured through, splashing in the grass between her feet. While it flowed, she stuck her fingers between her legs, letting the pee pour over them and through them, then she brought her hand up to her mouth and licked her fingers clean.
Behind her Emma, watching in mounting excitement, lifted her skirt higher so she could stick her hand inside her panties. She rubbed hard on her clitoris, her breath coming in gasps as her arousal built steadily towards her climax.
When she had finished peeing, Poppy pursed her lips and began to strain. She had never had any trouble pooping ‘on demand’, unlike her sister, who had a nervous bowel. Almost immediately her anus flowered open, and a slender, soft poo began to squirt rapidly into her panties. It looped back and forth, building itself into a squishy, elongated ball at the base of her buttocks.
Emma, watching the growing bulge in her sister’s panties, climaxed almost immediately, her excited moans of pleasure causing Ben to whine in confusion. “Oh God!” she gasped. “Yes, shit yourself, you filthy little slut. Shit your panties for me.”
Poppy was just as aroused as Emma. Her hand was down the front of her own panties, stroking her clitoris as she continued to defecate into the back. She had never done this before – not since she was three years old, anyway – but the sensation was amazing. The warm poo, nestling against her bottom… She reached back with one hand and pressed it against the bulge, squishing her poo sideways and downwards. “Oh God!” she whispered. The soft, warm mass felt like it was lovingly stroking her bottom, and naughtily creeping between her legs like an over-keen boyfriend pushing his luck.
“Ooh, stop that,” she muttered, still pooping as she squished some of the mess forward along her gusset. “No, not there!” she whispered, as the poo oozed over her vaginal opening and started creeping between her labia. “No – you really mustn’t!” she insisted, as the poo reached her clitoris, and the fingers of her other started to get messy. She rubbed the poo directly into her clit, and this brought her to a shuddering climax which made her sink to her knees.
“Wow!” said Emma, impressed. “That looked like a good one!”
“It was,” replied Poppy breathlessly. Then, as she came down off her high, she said, “Oh my God, Em, that was the best! I am never shitting in the toilet again!”
Emma laughed. “You pervert,” she said. “I have to admit, though, it did look kind of cool.”
“It is,” said Poppy. “You should try it.”
“Maybe I will,” replied Emma coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes at Poppy. That sent both of them off into a fit of giggling, which was broken by Emma’s gasp as Solomon started sniffing at her pussy through her damp panties. “Bad dog!” she scolded him, pushing his nose away.
“Perhaps he wants to lick your pussy,” said Poppy. “Why don’t you let him?”
“You’re sick!” said Emma. “I’m not letting a dog lick my pussy!”
“I bet it’ll feel nice,” coaxed Poppy.
Emma thought about it. “I suppose it might,” she said, “but that’s just a little too kinky for me. Come on, let’s go and get you cleaned up.”
“Do you mind if I stay like this for a while?” asked Poppy. “It feels awfully nice to have all this shit in my panties.”
Emma shrugged. “Sure – I don’t mind. You might want to pull your skirt down though, in case Dad comes out unexpectedly.”
Poppy nodded, and tugged her skirt down over her bulging panties. Continuing their walk, they eventually arrived back at the house. Poppy peered nervously into the windows. “Could you go in first?” she said. “See if you can distract Mum and Dad and give me a safe way through?”
Emma entered the house through the front door. She could hear her mother in the kitchen, but could not see her father. She beckoned for Poppy to follow her, and together they sneaked up the stairs and into the bathroom. Emma locked the door, and Poppy pulled down her panties, staring in fascination at the squashed poo contained within. With a sigh almost of regret, she held her panties upside down over the toilet and shook them so that the shit mostly fell out. Then she flushed, rinsing her panties in the swirling water.
Emma helped her out with the clean-up, hosing her down with the shower head as Poppy washed herself in the bathtub. Afterwards, they sprayed air freshener liberally around the room, but in truth the fan had done a pretty good job of removing the smell already. By the time they left the bathroom, there was no trace of Poppy’s messy adventure.
******************
That evening at about eight o’clock, having finished watching a documentary about languages on television, Emma went in search of Poppy and found her in the kitchen. The younger girl was pouring milk over a bowl of cereal.
“Didn’t you get enough to eat at dinner?” asked Emma in surprise. Then she peered more closely at the contents of the cereal bowl. “Holy cow – is that Brantasia?”
“Yup!” said Poppy as she dipped her spoon into the bowl and scooped up a pile of little brown discs. “I’m really looking forward to shitting in my panties again, and I want there to be a lot of it when I do. And I don’t want to wait three or four days to build up a nice big load.”
“But do you know how concentrated that stuff is?” asked Emma, staring at the bowl in disbelief. “Dad has like a quarter of that amount, and he says it makes him poop like an elephant! Every day!”
“I know!” said Poppy with a cheerful smile. “Would you like a bowl yourself?”
“No fear!” said Emma. “I poop quite often enough, thanks.”
She watched in fascination as her sister worked her way through the entire bowl of Brantasia. Then the two of them went upstairs to pick out their outfits for the following day. They had both visited the school shop to collect a government-approved label, but neither had any skirts or tops that conformed to the new rules, so they figured on adjusting some of their own clothes to bring them within compliance. Both were skilled seamstresses, having been well taught by their mother.
Emma had to remove the sleeves from one of her t-shirts, and cut away the neckline until it exposed part of her bra. Re-hemming it was a pain, but she succeeded in making it look pretty professional. She put it on to make sure the cups of her bra were peeping above the neckline, and was satisfied at the result – about a quarter of an inch of bra was exposed on both sides. Enough not to be considered a token effort, but not enough to be obscenely revealing. Then she turned to one of her short summer skirts – it would be easier to shorten than, say, a pleated skirt or a splay skirt (of which she had one, practically unworn). She cut about seven inches off the bottom of the skirt, and re-hemmed it. When she tried it on, she shivered as she saw that it exposed an inch and a half of her panties at the front. This was definitely obscene – rather more so than she had intended – yet it fully complied with the new regulation. Sighing unhappily, she picked up the label she had bought, and pressed it against her top. It adhered firmly to the material – she would not be able to get it off now without tearing the top. She was very uncomfortable about going to school wearing a top that said “FONDLE MY TITS”, but the other labels in the shop were just as bad if not worse.
A few minutes later, Poppy bounced into the room. “What do you think?” she asked, twirling on the spot. Her tight Lycra skirt was rather uneven at the bottom, having been trimmed in a hurry, but Emma was more concerned by the fact that more than three inches of Poppy’s panties were on display.
“Good grief!” she said. “Looks like you went overboard a little on the trimming!”
Poppy looked down, and giggled. “Oops!” she said. “It keeps riding up when I walk. Here.” She pulled the skirt down until only an inch of her panties was showing. “See? It’s not even as revealing as yours.”
“Yeah.” Emma tried unsuccessfully to tug her own skirt down. “I kind of miscalculated.”
Poppy was also wearing a pink tank-top with the neckline cut so deep that a good portion of her bra was showing. Across her breasts were the words “STRIP ME NAKED”. Emma rolled her eyes. “These slogans are crazy,” she said. “Did you see some of the others?”
Poppy nodded. “I saw one that said RIPE FOR FUCKING,” she said, wide-eyed. “Can you believe the government would approve slogans with swear words in them?”
Emma shook her head. “The word ‘fuck’ isn’t considered a swear word any more, Poppy, if it’s used to refer to sex. It’s only swearing if you say ‘fuck off’ or ‘fuck you’ or something.”
Her sister shrugged. “Okay, but still – it’s a pretty strong word. Anyway it’s late – I’m going to hit the hay.”
“Me too,” said Emma.
******************
The following morning, Lara was livid when she saw their outfits. “Have you taken leave of your senses, girls?” she demanded. “Whatever possessed you to do that to your clothes?”
“It’s the new rules, Mum!” said Emma. “All the girls have to show their panties now. And wear slogans like these.”
“What? That can’t be true!”
“It is!” Poppy insisted. “Call them up if you want. Beardy … I mean, Mr Cawthorne announced it yesterday in assembly.”
“Whyever didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” demanded Lara.
Emma stared at her shoes. “We thought you might get upset,” she said.
“Too right I’m upset!” said Lara. “I’m calling the school right now!”
And she did. They crept to the doorway and listened to her side of the conversation.
“…explain the meaning of this to me right now!
“It’s indecent, that’s what it is! Not to mention dangerous – why, those slogans are practically inviting rape!
“What do you mean, you want them to have sex? They’re too young! And it’s up to me to decide when they should have sex, not the school!
“Well yes I know what the government says, but they’re still too young!
“That won’t do any good and you know it. Protest groups have been lobbying the government for years on issues like these and it hasn’t done any good. That’s why I’m coming to you!
“Well then I’ll just have to take them out of school until you change your mind about that dress code!
“Eh? What are you on about? Truancy? But this would be my decision, not theirs…
“Fair enough then – do your worst…
“Arrested? For truancy? You’ve got to be kidding! They’re fourteen and fifteen years old!
“No I don’t remember that law – sounds like a stupid one. Another stupid one!
“So you’re telling me, if my children don’t show up at school today in outfits that would make a prostitute blush, you’ll have them thrown in jail?
“Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. This is insane.
“Well no I’m not satisfied! Far from it! I suppose I can’t do anything about it though.
“All right then. Goodbye.”
The girls sneaked back into the kitchen and feigned surprise when their mother came back in and said, “Well, I tried, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to go to school like that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry Mum, we’ll be all right,” said Emma. “All the other girls will be dressed like this too.”
Lara rolled her eyes. “Crazy – just crazy,” she said, stalking out of the room.
Emma poured herself some cereal, and then she caught sight of what Poppy was eating. “More Brantasia?” she said. “You’re just asking for trouble!”
Poppy merely grinned as she popped a spoonful of the brown discs into her mouth.
Emma picked up the packet and read the following: ‘BRANTASIA – the tasty and healthy addition to your breakfast cereal. Sprinkle a handful of Brantasia over your cereal each day, and your bowels will thank you for it! The highly compressed insoluble wheat bran produces large, soft, bulky stools, which expand the colon and ease passage of the stools. It is important to maintain a high level of fluid intake whenever bran products are taken, or the stools may dehydrate and block the intestine. To be taken in moderation – excess consumption of Brantasia may cause massive, involuntary expulsions of fecal matter.’
She put the box down. “Make sure you drink plenty,” she said. “Otherwise you’ll get blocked up.”
Poppy looked worried for a second, then she nodded and poured herself a second glass of orange juice. “I did wake up thirsty during the night,” she said. “I got up and drank two large glasses of water.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Emma. “Have you noticed any … effects yet?”
Poppy nodded. “I feel like I need to take a dump already,” she said. Then she giggled. “I’m so looking forward to this afternoon – I should be REALLY full by the time we get home!”
But she did not hold out until then – not by a long shot…
******************
When they got to school, they found all the girls dressed in extremely skimpy outfits, in compliance with the new dress code. Though nobody was actually having sex in the corridors, there was a lot of heavy petting going on, with boys trying to part some of the girls from what little clothing they had on. April Preston had lost her skirt and panties, and had her top pulled up around her neck (she was not wearing a bra) when Mr Louden, head of the French department, came strolling down the corridor. He coughed politely to draw the attention of Trevor Finch, who was busy thrusting two fingers in and out of April’s cunt.
“Hello sir,” said Trevor, continuing to finger-fuck April. The sixteen-year-old girl seemed torn between her embarrassment at being seen like this, and her arousal from what Trevor was doing to her. She put her face in her hands and uttered a loud, muffled moan.
“Take it upstairs Trevor,” said Mr Louden. “No sex in the corridors.”
“But we’re not having sex, sir,” said Trevor.
“Don’t nit-pick, boy, it’s close enough. Upstairs with you! You’ve got five minutes until assembly – I suggest you use it productively.”
Trevor nodded, then he grinned and, taking April by the hand, he dragged her off down the corridor, leaving her skirt and panties lying on the floor.
Emma met up with her friend Helen, and they critiqued each other’s outfits. Helen, a freckled but attractive auburn-haired girl with an ample bosom, looked very sexy in a low-cut blue dress with a splay skirt that came halfway down her panties. Across her D-cup breasts ran the words ‘SPURT YOUR CUM INSIDE ME’.
“Holy cow,” said Emma. “That’s one of the raciest slogans I’ve seen yet – why did you choose that one?”
“I didn’t get to the shop until this morning,” said Helen glumly. “It was either this, or one that said ‘DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME’. I thought this was marginally less scary.”
Emma shuddered. “Well your dress looks great anyway.”
“Thanks,” said Helen, smiling ruefully. “You look awesome – very sexy. Did you trim those yourself?”
Emma nodded. “I took too much off the skirt,” she said, “but otherwise I’m quite pleased.”
******************
After assembly, Poppy went to her first lesson, Chemistry, feeling very full and uncomfortable. A great pressure was building in her bowels, and she was longing to release it. Twenty minutes into the lesson, she realised she did not have a choice. Her poo was going to come out of her within seconds, whether she wanted it to or not.
Her nipples quickly hardened inside her bra, and goosebumps appeared on her skin despite the warmth of the weather. Blood suffused her cheeks (and other parts), and her breathing quickened. The prospect of shitting herself here, in this classroom, in front of all her classmates, was at once frightening and arousing. Slowly, so as not to look suspicious, she raised her bottom a few inches off her chair, and pulled her skirt up until it was just a belt around her waist.
She made a last-ditch attempt to hold out a little longer, but the pain was just too great, and with a gasp, she relaxed her tightly-clenched anus. What happened next was an experience she would never forget.
Her poo, huge and soft, poured out of her rectum like a snake slithering out of a burrow. The sensation was incredible – Poppy had never known anything like it. Usually her turds were fairly slim and hard, unless she had diarrhoea, and it was quite an effort to expel them. Usually there was a lot of straining, and often a small amount of pain. This, however, could not be more different. There was almost no effort required on her part – her shit was sliding out smoothly and rapidly, making love to her anus with a gentle caress that she found intensely sensual. Her arousal built quickly, bringing her close to orgasm within seconds.
Her panties billowed out at the back as they were filled, expanding as if they were a party balloon being inflated by someone with the lung capacity to do the job in one breath. They swelled steadily, and slowly sagged until the bulge was resting on the chair. With nowhere else to go, poo began to surge forwards, pushing between Poppy’s perineum and the gusset of her panties. Further forward thrust this tongue of shit, sliding across her vaginal opening and then pushing between her labia. As it nudged against her clitoris, she lost it, and moaned loudly in her orgasm as the blood roared in her ears and her body writhed in ecstasy. Inside her shoes, her toes curled up involuntarily. And still she was pooping, but she did not care – in fact, she wished this beautiful sensation would last forever. She just wanted the shit to continue pouring out of her anus like this for as long as possible. “A-a-a-hhhh!” she gasped, as a second orgasm wracked her body.
Her panties were quickly filling up at the front now, thanks to the poo still pushing forwards along her gusset, but at the back there was no more room, and so her shit started spilling out of both sides through the leg-bands, and out of the top of her waistband at the back. The new dress code stated that panties must cover no more than fifty percent of the buttocks, so the pair that she had chosen to wear today were not the most capacious.
After a third orgasm, the flow finally stopped, leaving Poppy breathless, her eyes shining. It had seemed like she had been pooping for ages and ages, but in reality it was less than half a minute. During this time, of course, half of her classmates had seen what she was doing, and they had alerted the other half, so that now the entire class was staring at her, the ones furthest away craning their necks to see.
Miss Cavenaugh had marched over and was now staring grimly at Poppy, her arms folded across her chest. “Explain yourself, Poppy Greaves!” she said.
Poppy was at a loss to do so. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I just couldn’t hold it. But I just have to say, that was the most amazing feeling … it was like … I don’t know. But it was the best thing ever!”
Some of her classmates were looking revolted – others were simply indignant – one or two looked curious. “Miss, tell her to get out of here before she stinks the whole room out!” complained one girl.
“Actually it hardly seems to smell at all,” remarked a boy sitting close to Poppy. “I’d like to know what the hell she’s been eating to produce this kind of result.”
“Brantasia,” said Poppy promptly. “I’d recommend it to anyone!”
“I’m sure you would,” said Miss Cavenaugh sternly. “But perhaps you’ll feel differently once you’ve been sitting in your excrement for an hour.”
“Oh Miss Cavenaugh, you can’t be serious!” exclaimed one of the girls. “The smell!”
“As Harry said, it really doesn’t smell that much,” said Miss Cavenaugh. “But it will take her forever to clean up, and I’m not having her taking that time out of my class. Sit down, Poppy!”
Poppy slowly sat herself down on her chair, and her poo squished and oozed around her buttocks and over her pussy. She shuddered as she felt it lick her clitoris like a tongue, and she very nearly came again.
“I’m never going to touch Brantasia again,” announced Meg Robertson, a slim brunette sitting at the front of the class.
“Well Meg,” said Miss Cavenaugh, “to be fair, it would probably help you with that acne problem. The wheat bran contains selenium, which is very good for the skin.”
As the lesson progressed, Poppy could not help squirming and writhing stealthily behind her desk. While she was supposed to be answering test questions on her computer terminal, she was in actuality shuddering subtly with her fourth orgasm. Neither this one nor the previous three had required her to touch her clit with her fingers.
A pointed cough from Miss Cavenaugh brought her back to reality, and she rattled through the questions as quickly as possible. Being quite as intelligent as her sister, she found this subject easy, and despite her distraction she figured she had done well.
When the bell rang to signal the end of the lesson, Poppy saved her answers, logged out, and then got to her feet rather stickily. The harsh reality of her situation was beginning to sink in, and she looked around at her classmates to see if she still had any friends among them.
For Poppy was a popular girl, by and large. Though her parents eschewed many mod-cons, they were pretty well-off, and she never lacked for the latest fashions. Her slim figure and pretty face, not to mention her bubbly personality, assured her of admirers among boys and girls alike. Being unpopular, therefore, was not something she had really considered as a possibility.
She considered it now. The looks she was getting were unfamiliar and unpleasant. But not all of them. Ronnie Dakers smiled at her as he passed. “You’re crazy, Poppy,” he said. “But funnily enough, that was kind of hot.”
Fran Adams was less kind. “You just lost ALL my respect, Poopy,” she said. “Yes that’s right, POOPY. That’s what we’ll all call you from now on. Bye-bye, Poopy.” With a disdainful sniff, she walked off.
“Bye Poopy,” said Rita, a friend of Fran’s.
“What the hell?” said Lottie, one of Poppy’s friends. She looked quite upset. “Have you gone completely mad?”
Poppy smiled apologetically. “I ate a lot of Brantasia,” she said. “It worked more quickly than I thought it would.”
Lottie sighed. “You’ll never live this down, Poppy,” she said.
“Maybe,” said Poppy. “But I’ll tell you, Lottie, it was worth it just to experience that … that feeling. It was like the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known!”
Lottie stared at her, mystified. “Too weird,” she said. “I’ve tried Brantasia – it didn’t have quite that effect on me though.”
“Did you eat two full bowls of it?” asked Poppy.
Lottie’s eyes widened. “You’re crazy – do you know how strong that stuff is? No wonder you shit yourself!”
“But Lottie – it feels great!” said Poppy. “You should seriously think about it.”
Lottie shook her head and walked off. Never mind, thought Poppy to herself. Soon I’ll be a pop star, and they can all just bite me.
As she was leaving her desk, Miss Cavenaugh stopped her. “What about that?” asked the teacher, pointing at the piles of poo on her chair. “You made that mess, Poppy – you’ll just have to clean it up.”
Poppy sighed. “What with?” she asked.
“Take it to the toilet with you, and wash it,” said Miss Cavenaugh.
Laughter and jeers followed her all the way as she carried a double handful of poo to the toilets, but she kept her head held high, and focused instead on the delightful sensations arising from the constant rubbing of her poo on her clitoris as she walked. Once she reached the toilet, she endured more taunts and insults from several of the girls in there, but she locked herself in a stall and after a few minutes she heard the other girls leave. She sat down carefully on the toilet seat, her bulging panties sagging close to the water beneath.
Then she heard someone enter. A voice called out, “Poppy, are you all right?”
“Emma!” said Poppy happily. “Thank God it’s you.” She unlocked her door, and Emma squeezed into the small cubicle. “Look!” She stood up and turned around.
“Holy crap!” exclaimed Emma. “That’s a huge amount! That Brantasia must really expand!”
Poppy nodded, and giggled. “Oh Em, the feeling was unbelievable. I’ve never felt such an awesome sensation of pleasure in my life. It was like the best orgasm ever!”
Emma chuckled. “Well you’ll be paying for it for a long time, I think.” She sniffed the air. “Hey, it doesn’t smell too bad, does it?”
“I know,” said Poppy. She sighed. “I suppose I’d better clean up then.”
“Seems a waste of all that shit,” said Emma slyly.
“What do you mean?” asked Poppy, instantly intrigued.
“I mean that I want to see you play with it,” said Emma. “I want to see you cover yourself with it.”
“But Emma – we have to get to class!” said Poppy.
“Not me,” said Emma. “I’ve got a free period.”
“Well I don’t,” said Poppy. “Although I suppose I could justify being a little late…”
“That’s the spirit,” said Emma, grinning. “Now take your clothes off, all apart from your panties.”
Poppy shyly took off her tank top, followed by her bra. Then she lifted her skirt upwards – fortunately, being Lycra, it stretched enough to fit past her breasts and shoulders. She sat down carefully, and slipped off her shoes and ankle-socks. Emma smiled, then took these garments out of the cubicle and placed them on the edge of a washbasin. When she returned, Poppy had already fished a handful of shit out of her panties and was rubbing it into her left breast.
Emma watched, intrigued, and her hand drifted to the front of her panties. While Poppy went back for more poo and continued coating her breasts with the soft brown mess, Emma massaged her clitoris through its hood. She quickly became very wet, and she dipped a couple of fingers inside her vagina, coating them with her slimy juice. Watching Poppy smear shit up and down her torso was intensely erotic, she was surprised to discover, and it did not take long before she was shaking with her orgasm.
“Oh man,” she breathed. “Poppy, you are so sexy! I’m amazed I never thought so before, but you really are.”
Poppy smiled. “Thanks!” she said. “You’re pretty sexy yourself, standing there masturbating. Want me to lick your pussy?”
Emma nodded. She stepped up on to the seat of the toilet, placing her feet carefully, one between Poppy’s legs and the other behind her back, so that she was straddling her sister’s head. Then she squatted slightly, bringing her pussy down to Poppy’s upturned face.
Poppy opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue in time for it to meet the wet cotton between Emma’s legs. She licked and sucked on the damp material, and Emma closed her eyes, smiling with pleasure. Then she gasped as Poppy pulled her panties to one side and began to lick her clitoris directly.
“My, you’re adventurous,” she murmured. “Nasty little slut. Yes, suck on my clit, Poppy. Ohhhhhh, yesss… Now stick your tongue up inside me.”
Poppy did not hesitate. She slid her tongue along the groove between Emma’s labia, and then pushed it into her sister’s cunt, causing Emma to squeal with excitement. After a few moments of this, Poppy returned to licking Emma’s clitoris, but she slid two fingers (of her clean hand) inside Emma’s vagina and started to finger-fuck her even as she licked and sucked.
“Oh God, Poppy, you have a magic tongue!” gasped Emma. “Thank you baby – I love you! You dirty little shit-slut…” A moment later she was bucking in another orgasm.
Poppy removed her face from Emma’s pussy. “I love the names you call me,” she said shyly. “It’s a pity there isn’t a slogan saying ‘I’M A SHIT SLUT’ … I’d wear one of those.”
As Emma stepped down from the toilet seat, Poppy continued to pack shit from her panties on to her breasts and belly, and even smeared some up and down her thighs. Eventually, when her panties were practically empty, she stood up and took them off.
Emma grinned evilly. “Lick them,” she said.
Poppy looked anxiously at her panties, completely brown now and coated all over with little chunks of poo. “Must I?” she asked nervously.
“No sweetie, of course not,” said Emma affectionately. “Not if you don’t want to.”
Poppy hesitantly lifted her panties up to her face, and tentatively stuck out her tongue. The tip came into contact with the messy fabric, and then she withdrew it. Her expression grew thoughtful. “Not much of a taste,” she said, and she went back for a more extensive lick. This time her tongue retrieved a tiny chunk of poo, which she drew back into her mouth. She sucked on it, squished it against the roof of her mouth, chewed it, and swallowed it. “Not too bad really!” she said. “I’m surprised.”
“Well it doesn’t smell much either,” said Emma. “Perhaps the bran helps the smell. Or dilutes it.”
Poppy took a larger lick from inside the back of her panties, scooping up several small pieces of shit. She chewed them up and swallowed them, then stuck out her brown tongue to show Emma.
“Eww!” said Emma, recoiling and laughing. “You’ll have to brush your teeth pretty thoroughly, babe, or you’ll have the most awful breath!”
Poppy nodded, and continued to lick out her panties as Emma watched in fascination. Then Poppy pulled a large chunk of shit off her breast and took a bite out of it.
“Wow,” said Emma, watching her sister chew her own shit. “You’re not going to eat it all, are you?”
Poppy shook her head. “It’s kind of making me feel queasy,” she said. “I’d better stop here.”
“Okay,” said Emma. “Well, hold still – I’m going to pee on you.”
Poppy smiled and leaned back a little. Emma held her panties to one side and spread her legs, straddling Poppy as closely as possible without getting any of Poppy’s poop on herself. Then she relaxed, and a stream of pee hissed out and splashed over Poppy’s shit-caked breasts. After a moment, Poppy leaned forwards and stuck her open mouth under the stream. It quickly filled with Emma’s urine, and she swallowed.
“You are without doubt the filthiest, nastiest slut in the world,” said Emma, with a hint almost of pride in her sister’s accomplishment. She stopped peeing, and replaced her panties over her pussy. “I’ve half a mind to flush your clothes down the toilet and make you go back to class just as you are.”
Poppy stared at her fearfully. “Don’t do that!” she said.
Emma smiled. “Don’t worry, baby,” she said. “Come on – wipe all that mess off and then come out to the basins to wash yourself.”
“Okay, but let me come first,” said Poppy. She started rubbing her pussy, then, on an impulse, collected a handful of shit from her belly and squished it into her labia. Rubbing the mass of poo hard against her clit, she closed her eyes and started moaning in pleasure. Soon she was shuddering with her climax.
The clean-up took the entire remainder of the lesson. Poppy was shaking her head as she finally put her cleaned but still wet panties back on. “I’m going to be in SO much trouble,” she sighed.
She went straight to her fourth lesson – Maths, with Mr Allbright. Her classmates wanted to know what she had been doing all through English, but all she would tell them was that the clean-up had taken longer than she expected. They were still teasing her, of course, but she hardly cared. She had made a new discovery – she was a shit-slut, and she loved it.
******************
She ate lunch with Emma and Helen. When she opened her lunch box, Emma nearly choked on her drink. “You brought Brantasia?” she asked incredulously.
“And sandwiches!” replied Poppy defensively.
“What are you going to eat them with? You don’t have any milk,” said Emma.
“I’ll eat them dry,” said Poppy.
“Well for goodness sake have lots to drink, then,” said Emma. “Get plenty of water from the fountain after lunch.”
“What’s the deal with the Brantasia?” Helen wanted to know.
“She’s discovered,” said Emma quickly, before Poppy could reply, “that eating a lot of Brantasia makes taking a dump feel nice. The only problem is, it also makes her shit like a hippopotamus. She, shall we say, ‘lost control’ during first lesson today.”
“Ouch!” said Helen, sympathetically. “Poor thing – you must have taken some flak for that.”
“I did,” admitted Poppy. “But it’s okay – it was worth it.”
“Worth it?” asked Helen, puzzled. “What could possibly make shitting yourself in class worthwhile?”
“Multiple orgasms,” said Poppy.
“Poppy!” hissed Emma, looking around nervously. “Keep your voice down.”
“Really?” said Helen, intrigued. “Just from pooping?”
Poppy nodded. “Seriously – you should try it. You both should. It’ll make your toes curl.”
“Just shut up and eat your Brantasia,” said Emma, amused despite herself. Toes curl? Her toes had never curled during an orgasm – was she missing something?
******************
By the end of school that day, Poppy was amazed to find she was desperate to poop again. She held out, however, until she and Emma got home. Their parents were both out, so they jumped into Poppy’s bed together and stripped each other down to their panties. As they leaned together for their first kiss – at least as lovers – Poppy smiled happily into her sister’s eyes. “I love you,” she said.
“I love you too, baby,” said Emma, and she pressed her lips against Poppy’s. Their tongues met, and they explored each other’s mouths tenderly. After a minute or so, they broke off.
“I’m about to shit,” said Poppy, grimacing with the pain of desperation.
“Go for it,” said Emma.
With an expression of great relief, Poppy relaxed her anus, and then she moaned with pleasure as a veritable flood of semi-soft shit poured smoothly out into her panties. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “This is the best feeling in the world, Em.”
Emma felt slightly put out. Pooping for her was a smelly, disgusting, unpleasant process which she did not enjoy at all. And here was her sister, quivering beneath her in the throes of orgasm because of essentially the same process. “That does it,” she said, “I’m going to start eating Brantasia.”
Poppy beamed up at her sister. “Thank you!” she said. “I so want to share this experience with you!”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to make damn sure I don’t shit myself in class,” said Emma. Pushing back the covers, she turned herself around so that she could watch Poppy filling her panties. Already she could see poo oozing out of the waistband and leg-bands. The material at the front was bulging with shit, and since Poppy’s legs were slightly apart, she could see the thick sausage of poo creeping upwards along the gusset, pushed from beneath by the pressure of the extruding poo. Poppy was lying on her back, so there was no room for the poo to go except upwards and outwards. It was going in both directions, and making quite a mess.
Poppy found herself staring at Emma’s panties, so she lifted Emma’s left leg and moved it across to the other side of her head, so that Emma was now straddling her face. Pulling Emma’s panties aside, Poppy started licking at her sister’s clit. Emma moaned and settled herself down, lying on top of Poppy but facing in the opposite direction. She ground her pussy into Poppy’s mouth, thinking to herself that she really ought to shave her pussy in order to make Poppy’s experience less, well, hairy.
Then she jumped, or at least twitched, in surprise as she felt Poppy’s tongue licking her anus. This was a new, and not altogether unpleasant, sensation. She smiled happily as she felt two of Poppy’s fingers slide into her vagina. Looking down, she realised that Poppy had stopped defecating. There was truly an enormous amount – most of it had oozed out and built up between Poppy’s legs, but there was still a lot contained in her gusset and in the front of her panties. There was even a fair amount in the back, between and below Poppy’s buttocks where the mattress was not pressing so firmly against her. Out of a sense of wanting to return a favour, Emma gingerly pressed the palm of her hand against the bulge around Poppy’s pussy. Pressing it inwards, she started to rub the squishy mass in circles over Poppy’s clitoris and labia. This elicited sharp gasps from Poppy, which Emma judged meant that she was doing something right.
Poppy continued to lick Emma’s anus, even to the extent of pushing her tongue a short way inside. “Careful,” Emma playfully warned her. “I might just take a dump in your mouth.”
“I would … eat it if you did,” said Poppy breathlessly.
Emma’s arousal heightened at these words. She did, in truth, need to poop, and this seemed as good a time as any. So she strained, and strained, and after half a minute or so, the tip of a dark brown turd began to emerge from her anus. Poppy drew back and watched with a mixture of disgust and fascination. It smelled awful, but nevertheless, when it had reached a length of four inches or so, she opened her mouth and moved in to press her lips against Emma’s expanded sphincter, with the poo sliding between her lips as she did so. She licked the tip, and then sucked on it as if it were a lollipop. It tasted even fouler than it smelled, but out of love for Emma she endured it and continued to take it into her mouth as it grew longer and longer. Soon her mouth was full, and she was obliged to chew up and swallow some of the hard poo. Emma pinched it off and then climbed off the bed. Poppy, with her mouth half open and packed full of poo, raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I want to take photos of you,” said Emma with a grin. “Stay exactly like that – don’t swallow any.”
Poppy wanted to reply that she had already swallowed some, but she was unable to speak in her current situation. She felt awfully exposed, and nervous about having pictures taken of her in this state, but she fought down an impulse to cover her breasts, and simply waited.
Emma fetched her digital camera from her room, and snapped off a few photos of Poppy from various angles. Then she had a truly wicked idea, and a smile came to her lips. “Okay Poppy,” she said, “you can eat it now.”
Poppy took a while to get through all the shit in her mouth, and when she had finished, she retched once, and then hurriedly propped herself up on her elbows as, with a mighty heave, she threw up the entire contents of her stomach. A tidal wave of yellowish-brown vomit cascaded over her breasts and surged over her belly, finally pouring over her bulging panties and starting to form a pool between her legs. Other pools formed along both sides of her torso as her vomit slid slowly off her breasts and belly.
“Wow!” said Emma. “Are you okay?”
Poppy panted for a moment, then nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to puke – I tried not to.”
“It’s okay,” Emma reassured her. “I don’t blame you. I guess we should cut this short, huh?”
Poppy shrugged. “Only if you’re grossed out. If there’s other things you want to do, I’m game.”
Emma smiled. “Then how would you like to lose your virginity?”
Poppy’s brow furrowed. “You going to call a boy?”
“Nope,” said Emma. “I figured you could lose your virginity some other way.”
“To one of the dogs?” asked Poppy, looking a little worried.
“No!” said Emma, though as she thought about it, this did seem like a pretty cool idea. To have her sister lose her virginity to a dog … while she, Emma, captured the event on camera…
“No,” she said again, “that wasn’t my idea. I was thinking you could lose your virginity to my shit. I’ve still got plenty more to come, I think, and it’s pretty hard.”
Poppy shivered nervously. “You want to put it inside me?” she inquired.
“That’s the idea,” said Emma. “What do you think?”
Poppy considered it for a moment, then nodded. “It’s horribly degrading, really, thinking about it,” she said, “but I guess that’s why it sounds like fun. Go on then – go for it. I have one condition, though.”
“Oh? What’s that?” asked Emma.
“That you first do the shit in your panties,” said Poppy, grinning naughtily.
Emma pouted, but then she smiled. “All right,” she said.
“And kiss me while you’re doing it,” added Poppy.
Emma regarded Poppy’s lips, streaked with shit and vomit, and her nose wrinkled. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” she said.
“Please?” begged Poppy.
Emma took a couple more photos, then she reluctantly came over to the bed. She had absolutely no desire to get shit in her mouth – her sister was the shit slut, not her – but on the other hand Poppy was being an absolute trooper here, and this seemed like a good way of showing her appreciation…
They kissed. Poppy’s shitty tongue rushed out to meet Emma’s, and Emma grimaced as she tasted her own shit. Her stomach heaved, and she pulled back…
“On me! Puke on me!” said Poppy.
Vomit surged up Emma’s gullet and gushed from her mouth, hitting Poppy full in the face. Poppy opened her mouth, which quickly filled with Emma’s orange-yellow puke. Emma heaved again, and this time threw up all over Poppy’s chest. The fourteen-year-old girl swallowed the vomit in her mouth, then massaged the rest into her breasts and belly, sighing with pleasure as she undulated her hips, causing the poo in her panties to caress her clitoris deliciously.
“Ugh,” said Emma, wiping her mouth. “You sure you still want to do this?”
Poppy nodded, and smiled happily. “This is the most intense experience of my life,” she said. “I don’t want it to stop.”
Emma smiled, then she strained. Gritting her teeth, she bore down hard, and her anus flowered open to permit the passage of a large, very solid turd. She exhaled sharply, then took a deep breath and pushed hard. The turd started to emerge, slowly – a monster, more than an inch and a half in diameter. Emma’s panties tented outwards, and still she pushed. Then the widest part of the poo popped out of her, and the rest slid through more easily. The bulbous head of the turd was now pressing hard against the fabric of Emma’s panties, and she pushed them down her hips a little to allow more room. A final push sent another couple of very firm inches out into her panties, and then it broke off, and a rush of softer poo followed. Figuring she might as well finish what she started, Emma continued to poop into her panties, even when it turned to semi-liquid which soaked through the material almost immediately.
Poppy grinned. “That was quite a lot!” she said.
Emma nodded, panting. “Hard work though!” she said. She pulled her panties down to mid-thigh, and fished out the first turd she had produced – the hard one. It was now coated with gooey diarrhoea, but that was okay – it would be a good lubricant. “Spread your legs, Poppy,” she said.
Poppy complied, somewhat nervously, and then she pulled the gusset of her panties to the side. “Be gentle,” she said.
Emma pulled her panties back up, the poo inside squishing against her buttocks and pussy, then knelt down next to the bed and placed the bulbous head of the poo at the entrance to Poppy’s vagina. Then she pushed forwards, and the poo began to slide in. Poppy winced, but she neither complained nor attempted to stop this obscene invasion of her body. The head disappeared, and Poppy gasped in pain. Emma paused, then continued to push. She was encountering resistance, so she withdrew slightly and then pushed forward again. She did this a few times, and then found that she could slide it deeper inside. The turd was a good eight inches in length, and now only three inches were left outside. She thrust in and out, pushing a little deeper each time, until she bottomed out with just one inch left outside Poppy’s cunt. Poppy, meanwhile, was masturbating for all she was worth, and soon she was shuddering in a new orgasm.
Emma left the turd in place, and simply replaced Poppy’s gusset (complete with its sausage of poo) over the top of Poppy’s vagina. “What a disgusting slut you are,” she said huskily, rubbing at her own pussy. “Fucking my shit like that. Not to mention eating it too.”
“Ohhh yes!” gasped Poppy, still in the throes of her orgasm. “I’m a filthy disgusting shit-slut!”
With her free hand, Emma reached around behind her bottom and started squeezing the poo in her panties against her bottom. It actually felt rather nice, but she did not want to tell her sister that.
Then they heard footsteps on the stairs, and both of them froze in panic. “What do we do?” Poppy whispered urgently.
There was a knock at the door. “Don’t come in!” said Poppy.
“We’re not dressed!” said Emma.
“Oh,” came their father’s voice. “Well, don’t forget your chores.”
Both girls heaved a sigh of relief as his footsteps retreated. “Quick,” said Emma. “Let’s get all your bedding into the bathtub. We can get all the poo and puke off there, and then we’ll put it all in the washing machine, along with our panties.”
“No – wait,” said Poppy. “I’d really like to go to bed tonight in these same messy sheets.”
“But they’ll stink!” said Emma. “What if Mum comes in?”
“We won’t give her a reason to,” said Poppy. “Come on – let’s just strip off our panties and shower. Then we’ll put on some clean clothes, and go and do our chores.”
Emma shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said. She stood up. “Want me to pee on you before we shower?”
“Always!” said Poppy with a smile.
So Emma climbed on to the bed and stood straddling Poppy. She peed through her panties, showering her sister with her golden urine. Poppy rubbed it into her breasts and face, and then licked her fingers. Then she herself peed, soaking her panties and the bedding between her legs. She was thrilled to be wallowing in her own (and her sister’s) filth, and loved the thought of leaving her bed like this. Somewhat reluctantly, she pulled her panties down, took them off, and then emptied their contents on to her pussy. Rubbing her shit well into her labia, she then scraped it off with a regretful sigh and climbed out of bed. Leaning over the bed, she wiped herself down with her hands, from her face down to her thighs, so that any excess filth would not travel with her to the shower.
“Come on then,” said Emma, who had been waiting patiently but a little anxiously. She turned towards the door.
“Wait,” said Poppy. “What are you going to do with all that?” She pointed at the bulge in the back of Emma’s panties.
“Dump it down the toilet, I suppose,” said Emma.
“Oh, please don’t,” said Poppy. “Dump it on my bed.”
Emma nodded, then she took off her panties and carried them carefully to the bed. There she upended them and shook them so that several lumps of soft poo fell out on to the spot where the small of Poppy’s back had been.
Naked, they sneaked out of Poppy’s room, shutting the door behind them, and then dashed into the bathroom and locked the door.
“Whew!” said Emma. “Okay, let’s get clean.”
“Um,” said Poppy, looking down at her pussy, “I seem to still have your shit inside me.”
“Oh,” said Emma. “Well, you could squeeze it out into the toilet.”
Poppy shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s yours, and it took my virginity. I want to keep it inside me for a while, and treasure it.”
Emma smiled. “Okay then – you think you can hold it in while we shower?”
“I think so,” said Poppy.
Minutes later, as they were soaping themselves clean, Emma grinned suddenly as she looked at her sister’s hairy pussy. “Hey,” she said, “I have an idea. Let’s shave each other.”
Poppy thought about this for a moment. “Sure,” she said. “Whatever you want, my love.”
******************
That evening, Emma somewhat reluctantly joined Poppy in a late supper of Brantasia. She was more fond of sugar-frosted cereals, having a sweeter tooth than her sister, but she found that plenty of sugar helped it go down. At Poppy’s insistence, she piled her bowl high with the little brown discs, but she still did not have as much as Poppy.
By the time she climbed into her smelly, wet, messy bed, wearing just a pair of panties, Poppy was desperate to poop again. With a happy sigh, she turned over on to her front and let it flood out into her panties. As it filled out the back and then poured down her gusset over her pussy, she had four orgasms without even touching herself.
******************
Friday morning saw Emma sneaking into her sister’s room early, wearing just a long t-shirt. She was desperate to poop and felt that Poppy might be upset if she pooped in the toilet and not on her little sister. Recoiling a little at the smell, she nevertheless pulled back Poppy’s covers, then she squatted over her sleeping sister’s breasts. Poppy was a notoriously heavy sleeper – it was unlikely even this would wake her up.
Emma was expecting this to feel good, having heard Poppy endlessly raving about how nice it felt the day before, but she was unprepared for just how amazing and beautiful the sensation really was. It was almost a religious experience – tears of joy sprang to her eyes as a thick, soft rope of poo rapidly extruded from her anus, smoothly stroking the inside of her rectum like the gentlest lover she could imagine. Emma was a virgin, but she had once stolen a carrot from the kitchen and fucked herself with it, so she knew how nice it felt to have something slide in and out of her vagina – but this feeling was in a league of its own. It contrasted starkly with the slightly painful poo she had done yesterday into Poppy’s mouth and then finished in her own panties.
She reached down and stroked her clitoris, and came almost immediately. Then the flow of shit stopped, and her feeling of disappointment was almost overwhelming. She had wanted that sensation to last for much longer!
She turned around, and smiled at the large pile of poo sprawled over Poppy’s chest. Her right breast was completely covered, as was most of her left breast, though her left nipple was still partially exposed. For good measure, Emma lifted her foot on to the bed, leaned forwards, and peed on to Poppy’s shit-filled panties. The sodden material turned transparent, revealing the mass of shit inside, covering Poppy’s pussy.
She pulled Poppy’s blankets back over her, and then went back to her own room.
******************
For breakfast the girls each had a full bowl of Brantasia. This time, however, Lara came in and saw what they were doing. “Good heavens!” she said. “That stuff’s pretty powerful, you know – I don’t think you’re supposed to have that much.”
“I’ve been eating it for a couple of days, Mum,” said Poppy, “and it’s done me a world of good. I feel so much healthier.”
“Really?” said Lara. “Your father swears by it, of course, but he certainly doesn’t have that much. He says it makes him poop like an elephant.”
“It does,” agreed Poppy. “But you’ve no idea how good it feels, Mum – there’s absolutely no discomfort at all – no straining, no gritting of teeth…”
“All right all right,” said Lara, her ears turning pink. “That’s quite graphic enough, thanks – I get the picture. Well if you are finding it beneficial, then that’s fine I suppose, but do be careful.”
Emma nodded. “We’re taking care to drink plenty, so it doesn’t block us up.”
“Good, good,” said Lara, staring at Emma’s dress. “Oh dear, Emma, that label’s horrible!”
Emma looked down at the slogan running across her breasts. Since the labels were non-removable, or at least extremely hard to remove, they had both bought a few more of them at the school shop. Today’s read: ‘SUCK MY NIPPLES’. “Sorry Mum,” she said apologetically. “They’re all like this, or worse.”
Poppy’s read: ‘IMPREGNATE ME’. Lara groaned at the sight of it, and turned away, shaking her head.
Both girls had trimmed dresses the previous evening. Emma had turned a long flowery dress into a microdress showing just over an inch of her panties at the front. The hem was very neatly done, so that it looked as if the dress had simply been made that short. Poppy, on the other hand, had not bothered hemming hers at all, so her denim minidress had a rather ragged hem that showed three inches of her panties at the front. She had cut it asymmetrically, so that at the back the hem was pretty much on the same level as the top of her panties. Lara had not yet seen this, and Poppy intended to take great care not to turn her back on her mother until she was safely at school. The reason she had cut her dress so severely was that she fully intended to fill her panties in class again today, and she did not want to have to lift her dress beforehand. Also, she did not want to conceal her accident, even slightly. She wanted everyone to know that she was a shit-slut…
After the girls had left for school with their father, Lara regarded the box of Brantasia thoughtfully. There was something suspicious about the girls’ behaviour – what were Poppy and Emma up to? It obviously had something to do with the Brantasia – did it have some side-effect that they were not telling her about? Did it give them some kind of high?
This was a worrying thought. Drugs were rampant in schools today, Lara knew, and although she was sure her daughters were too sensible to try drugs, this cereal might start them on that path, if indeed it was getting them high.
The only way to find out what it did, Lara decided, was to try it herself. So she poured out a large bowl, drowned it in milk, and ate every last bit…
******************
During her second class of the day, Poppy was sitting with her hand between her legs, pushing Emma’s still-firm turd in and out of her vagina through the material of her panties, when the urge to defecate came upon her suddenly. With a little squeal of delight she lifted her bottom off her seat and let the soft shit pour into her panties. Her first orgasm came as the vile mess, creeping forward, met her clitoris, and another two followed soon after.
“Miss Peebles!” complained a girl sitting close to Poppy. “Poppy’s shit herself again. And she’s getting off on it!”
The young biology teacher looked at Poppy in surprise. “Are you all right, Poppy?”
“Yes Miss Peebles,” said Poppy breathlessly. “Sorry – it’s the Brantasia – it doesn’t give me a lot of warning.”
“It apparently gives you a lot of pleasure, though,” remarked the teacher, a pretty blonde in her twenties.
“Yes Miss Peebles! I just had three orgasms without even touching myself!”
A murmur ran through the room, and Miss Peebles coughed. “Yes, well, we’re all very happy for you I’m sure, but perhaps you’d like to go and clean up…?”
“If it’s all right with you, Miss Peebles,” said Poppy, “I’ll just sit here until the end of the lesson. I don’t want to miss anything. And it doesn’t really smell.”
“Suit yourself,” said Miss Peebles. “Where were we? Ah yes…”
Twenty minutes later, there was another orgasmic moan … but this one did not come from Poppy. All eyes turned in surprise to Poppy’s friend Lottie, who was looking rather sheepish as she hovered over her seat, her panties overflowing with shit.
“Um, I decided to try Brantasia last night,” she said. “After Poppy said how nice it felt…”
Miss Peebles arched an eyebrow. “And did the experience meet with your expectations?”
“Oh yes, Miss! It’s … the feeling’s like … well, it’s amazing!” Lottie blushed.
The teacher rolled her eyes. “I suppose you want to carry on sitting there until the lesson too?”
Lottie hung her head in embarrassment. “Yes please Miss,” she said in a small voice. She lowered herself back down on to her seat, her bottom and pussy squishing into the huge mass of shit, and she gasped loudly and shuddered as another orgasm washed over her.
******************
Emma, by contrast, had no desire to shit herself in class, so when a powerful pressure suddenly built in her bowels, she put up her hand immediately. “Mr Evans?”
“What is it?” demanded the teacher, annoyed at being interrupted.
“Sir, can I please go to the toilet?” Emma asked desperately, fighting hard against the mounting force threatening to explode out of her anus.
“The lesson has only just started, Miss Greaves. Whyever didn’t you go before?”
“I … didn’t need to go before!” managed Emma through clenched teeth. “Please – if I don’t, I’m going to have an accident!”
“Oh very well,” said Mr Evans disapprovingly. “Hurry up.”
Emma got up from her seat and took a few tottering steps to the door before she lost the battle. With a gasp of pain, she clutched at her abdomen and bent forward, steadying herself on a nearby desk with her free hand. Her tiny microdress, already exposing over an inch of her panties at the back, rose up to reveal at least half of her buttocks. With a whimper, Emma finally unclenched her anus, unable to compete with the force of the huge quantity of shit pushing through her rectum.
Her classmates and Mr Evans all gaped in astonishment as Emma’s panties billowed outwards, quickly filling up with several pounds of soft poo. Emma, mortified beyond words, nevertheless could not help squealing as a river of shit surged over her pussy, pushing between her labia and sliding over her clitoris, bringing her almost instantly to a knee-trembling climax. As more shit poured out of her anus and pushed the rest forwards and outwards, she moaned loudly in another orgasm even as large chunks of shit, oozing out of the sides of her panties, splashed down on to the backs of her legs.
“Miss Greaves!” exclaimed Mr Evans in disbelief. “Whatever’s the matter with you, girl?”
The spell broken, Emma’s classmates burst out laughing. Emma tried to answer the teacher’s question, but she was too busy having a third orgasm. Eventually she calmed down enough to talk.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” she said in abject embarrassment. “It’s this new cereal I’ve been having – Brantasia – it’s making me poop a lot.”
“And apparently without warning!” said Mr Evans. “Might I suggest a change of cereal?”
“When it gives her multiple orgasms?” said Eric, the boy sitting at the desk on which Emma was leaning. “I’d say that’s unlikely!”
Emma blushed, but she knew this to be true. How could she give up Brantasia now?
“Well, I suppose you’d better go and clean up,” said Mr Evans.
Emma nodded, and slowly walked towards the door, shit dropping from the edges of her panties. As she walked, the shit pressing against her clitoris moved back and forth, bringing her to yet more orgasms. The class giggled in unison as Emma’s excited moans and gasps continued to echo through the corridor for at least half a minute after she had left the room.
“I’ve got to try some of that Brantasia!” said a busty girl named Alison Winslow.
“Are you crazy?” said Alison’s friend Sonya. “You want to shit yourself in class?”
“Well no, but the multiple orgasms do sound nice…”
Once locked in a stall in the girls’ toilet, Emma stripped off her microdress and shoved her hand into the front of her panties. Her fingers sank into a mass of shit as she probed for her clitoris. Soon she was shaking in fresh orgasms.
“Emma? Is that you?”
Emma snapped out of her orgasmic trance. “Poppy?”
“Yeah – I’m just cleaning myself up – I had an accident during the last lesson.”
“Never mind that,” said Emma, panting breathlessly. “Just get your arse in here. I’ve got some lovely shit for you.”
“Oh but Emma!” whined Poppy, “I’m almost clean!”
“NOW, Poppy,” said Emma sternly.
Poppy giggled. “Okay,” she said.
******************
Lara Greaves paused in the middle of weeding the flower bed that ran alongside the back lawn. She suddenly needed to defecate – badly! For a moment she considered waiting until she had at least finished this side of the lawn, but then an especially powerful cramp caused her to gasp in pain. She got to her feet hastily and started to run for the house, but then she had to stop as the pressure became so intense that she would surely make a mess in her panties unless she clenched as hard as ever she could…
But it was no good, and with an exclamation of shock and surprise, Lara felt a small quantity of shit worm its way out of her anus and into her panties – despite the fact that she was still clenching her anus and buttocks tightly shut. Still the worm slithered out of her rectum – she seemed powerless to prevent it. Her aching buttock muscles tiring, she relaxed them a little, and the worm thickened to become a snake. Defeated, and feeling utterly disgusted with herself, she relaxed completely, figuring she was now messy anyway so what difference did it make?
Soft shit now poured out of her anus and mounded up in the back of her full-cut cotton panties. “Oh my!” she exclaimed as she realised the sensation was not at all what she had expected. Far from being a painful effort, this was almost … pleasant.
She immediately repented of this thought. “This is disgusting!” she scolded herself. “You’re a grown woman, Lara – how could you let this happen?”
The back of her panties started sagging lower and lower, and she suddenly worried that they would fall down. And still she was pooping! It was incredible. For a moment her sense of wonder displaced her disgust, and she found herself becoming quite curious as to just how long this would last.
When the flow stopped, for a moment she felt a pang of disappointment, but then her sense of dignity took over and she shuddered with horror at what she had just done. Taking a few steps towards the house, she stumbled as her shit nudged forwards along her gusset, slid over her clitoris, and brought her to instantaneous orgasm. She moaned out loud, and then slapped a hand over her mouth and began to run. A few more steps, however, and another orgasm brought her to her knees. Panting and moaning in ecstasy, she rolled over on to her back, pulled her dress up around her waist, and started rubbing her pussy through her panties, working her shit into every crevice. With her other hand she reached into the back of her panties and pulled out a large handful of shit, which she mashed into her left breast, smearing it into the fabric of her cotton sundress.
“What’s the matter with me?” she wondered in distress as she reached inside her panties and began pushing pieces of her shit into her cunt. Then she squealed in yet another orgasm…
******************
That afternoon, when the girls arrived home from school, dropped off by the parents of one of Poppy’s friends, Lara greeted them with an expression of tight-lipped fury.
“I’ve just been in your room, Poppy!” she exclaimed. “I have never seen such a disgusting mess in my life! What have you to say for yourself?”
Poppy’s heart leaped into her mouth. She hung her head guiltily. “I … I don’t know,” she said.
“It’s that Brantasia, isn’t it?” demanded Lara. “You’ve been pooping in your bed and getting off on it, haven’t you! You filthy, disgusting girl! I bet you’ve been pooping in your panties at school, too!”
Poppy began to cry. “I’m sorry, Mum!” she said. “It just … it feels so good…”
“But it’s horrible!” cried Lara. “It’s disgusting and it’s against God! I can’t believe I could raise a child who turns out to enjoy such a vile, disgraceful activity.”
“Steady on, Mum,” said Emma, rattled but angry at this verbal assault on her sister. “It’s not exactly Poppy’s fault.”
Lara rounded on her. “You know about this?” she demanded. “Of course you do! You’ve been eating that stuff too. I suppose you’ve been pooping in your panties too? Disgusting child!”
Emma sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” she asked. She and Poppy had both defecated in their panties twice today – once in morning lessons and once in the cafeteria at lunchtime. But they had cleaned themselves up well, and although they had brought a large quantity of their shit home with them, it was safely sealed in zip-seal freezer bags which they had ‘borrowed’ from the school kitchens. This smell, whatever it was, was not their fault.
“It’s probably the smell coming from Poppy’s room,” said Lara, backing away a little. “It was awful – I had to open the window just so I could breathe.”
“That’s not the dress you were wearing this morning,” said Emma suspiciously, advancing towards her mother.
“Don’t change the subject,” said Lara, rather nervously. She drew herself up to her full height of five feet four inches, which only gave her an inch’s advantage over Emma. “Now I want you two girls to go upstairs and clean Poppy’s room!” she said firmly.
“I think you’ve crapped your panties!” said Emma.
Lara deflated immediately. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she said, with a nervous laugh.
Poppy was beginning to recover herself. She wiped her eyes and marched forward. She was taller than her mother by a good two inches. “After all you just said to me, all about how filthy and disgusting I am … you’re standing there with messy panties?”
Emma, her expression grim, stepped forward suddenly and threw her arms around her mother, pinning Lara’s arms to her sides. “Check, Poppy!” she said. “Check Mum’s undies.”
“Don’t you dare!” exclaimed Lara with a gasp. She struggled wildly. “Let go of me, Emma! Immediately!”
Poppy hesitated, then darted around behind her mother and lifted up the back of her dress, revealing a huge sagging bulge in the back of Lara’s panties. “Aha!” she said triumphantly. “She has crapped in her panties! And there’s a ton of it – she must have been eating Brantasia!”
“I knew it!” said Emma, releasing her mother. “Mum, how could you be so hard on Poppy when you were standing there with your panties full of poop?”
Poppy placed her hand on the bulge. “It’s cool,” she said. “Mum’s had this in her panties for some time, I’m thinking.”
“For how long?” demanded Emma.
Lara’s cheeks burned red with embarrassment. “Since about one o’clock,” she said. “I guess I just couldn’t be bothered … I mean, I figured I would clean up later…”
Emma’s brow furrowed as she noticed something else. Her mother was a busty lady, but today she looked even more buxom than usual…
“What have you got under your dress?” she asked.
“What? Nothing!” said Lara, her face turning pale. She backed away, and as she did so, Poppy followed Emma’s example and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, pinning her arms.
Emma deftly unbuttoned the front of Lara’s dress, then pulled the two halves aside. “I don’t believe it!” she exclaimed.
Both cups of Lara’s bra were practically overflowing with shit. Lara hung her head in shame.
“You total hypocrite!” cried Emma.
“I know, I know,” said Lara, defeated. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think that’s going to cut it,” said Emma sternly. “I think you need to be punished.”
“Punished??” said Lara incredulously. She recovered some of her offended dignity. “How dare you! I’m your mother!”
Emma, furious, slapped her mother hard across the face. Lara stared at her daughter in shock.
“You’re a shit-slut,” said Emma. “And the sooner you realise that, the better. Poppy, let’s get her upstairs to your room.”
“What? Are you crazy?” shouted Lara.
Emma pulled her mother’s dress off her shoulders and then tugged it downwards. Poppy released her grip around Lara’s waist, and Emma pulled the dress down to Lara’s ankles, leaving the woman in just her shit-filled underwear. Emma stood up, and then she and Poppy each took one of Lara’s arms and frogmarched their mother to the stairs.
Moments later, they were in Poppy’s room. There were flies everywhere. By now, Lara’s tone had changed to one of pleading.
“Girls, please!” she whined. “This is wrong – it isn’t natural.”
“It isn’t natural to shit yourself and keep it in your panties for three and a half hours!” said Emma. “It isn’t natural to yell at your daughters for doing something you’re doing yourself!”
Poppy threw back her bedclothes to reveal a bottom sheet still damp with piss and covered with vomit and piles of shit.
“No!” shrieked Lara fearfully. “Don’t make me…” She screamed as Poppy and Emma pushed her down on to the bed, piles of shit squishing beneath her.
“Oh, this is so gross!” cried Lara, screwing up her face in disgust.
Emma kicked off her shoes and climbed on top of her mother, straddling her midriff. “Mum, this is your penance for being so mean and hypocritical. If you co-operate and take your punishment like a … a woman … then maybe, just maybe, we won’t tell Dad what a disgusting shit-slut you are.”
Poppy giggled.
“Please don’t call me that!” said Lara. “All right girls, I’ll play along – but only so far! And please don’t tell your father – he’d walk out on all of us!”
“Then you’d better do whatever we say,” said Emma severely. She relaxed her bladder, and felt her panties soak through with pee.
“Oh! Ugh! Oh what are you doing? Oh no!” cried Lara as the warm urine spread over her belly and ran up her chest between her breasts.
“Can I pee on her too?” asked Poppy excitedly.
“Of course,” said Emma. She climbed off her mother.
Lara started to get up, but Emma pushed her back down. “You’d better stay lying there until we say otherwise!” she warned.
Lara sighed and nodded as Poppy climbed on top of her. Then Poppy walked forward on her knees until she was straddling her mother’s face.
“Oh no, darling, no!” said Lara urgently.
“Yes, Mum, I want you to drink my pee through my panties,” said Poppy.
“No! Darling, that’s just awful! And unhygienic!”
Both girls laughed. “And letting your shit rub over your pee-hole isn’t?” asked Emma. “Can’t you get an infection that way?” She reached down between Lara’s legs and started rubbing her mother’s pussy through her panties. There was a considerable thickness of shit in there, extending almost all the way up to Lara’s waistband at the front.
“Oh … oh! Oh, stop that!” said Lara breathlessly. “Oh no … oh yes … oh God!” She moaned loudly in another orgasm, but her moan was muffled as Poppy settled her panties against Lara’s open mouth and began to pee. She pressed her knees together either side of Lara’s head, so her mother could not turn away, and Lara found herself obliged to drink quickly to avoid choking.
Emma meanwhile had pulled Lara’s panties to one side and was pushing lumps of shit into her mother’s vagina. Lara moaned in protest, and tried to close her legs, but Emma merely planted her own legs between her mother’s and forced them apart. Shoving her fingers into Lara’s cunt, Emma stuffed Lara’s shit deep inside her body, and then, tucking her thumb into her palm, she continued pushing until her entire hand slipped inside.
“Wow! You’re pretty loose down here, Mum,” she observed.
Poppy pulled her panties to one side so that her naked shaven pussy was now pressing directly against her mother’s lips. She soon finished peeing, but she did not remove herself. “Lick me, Mum,” she ordered. “Lick my clit and make me come.”
Lara yelled a muffled “No!” into Poppy’s pussy, but Emma made a fist and punched deep inside her mother’s cunt. “You’d better do as she says, Mum!” she advised.
“Oooh!” exclaimed Poppy. “Oooh yes! That’s it – lick me Mum!”
Tears sprang from Lara’s eyes as she licked and sucked on the clitoris of one of her daughters, while the other fisted her shit-filled vagina. How had her relationship with her children deteriorated so badly today?
Suddenly feeling the urge to defecate, Emma quickly pulled her fist out of her mother, then she whipped her panties down and positioned herself so that her anus was pressed against Lara’s still-gaping cunt. As she relaxed, her shit poured out of her anus and surged up into Lara’s vagina, then, with nowhere else to go and the pressure steadily building, it forced its way past Lara’s cervix and began to squirt into her womb. As Emma continued to poop directly into her mother’s cunt, Lara’s womb quickly filled and began to swell, stretched outwards by the huge volume of shit pouring in through her cervical opening. Emma watched her mother’s swelling belly with fascination.
“Oh my God Emma, what are you doing?” wailed Lara, pulling her mouth from Poppy’s pussy.
“Keep sucking!” Poppy ordered, forcing her mother’s lips back on to her clitoris. Then, feeling a powerful pressure in her bowels, she started filling her panties with shit. The sensation this brought her, coupled with the stimulation of her clit by her mother’s lips and tongue, caused her to literally scream in her orgasm…
******************
Grant parked his car and hummed a little tune to himself as he went indoors. He stopped short at the sight of his wife chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.
“Hello darling,” he said. “That’s a … a nice outfit.”
Lara blushed. “I thought that, you know, what with our children becoming pop stars and everything, perhaps I should try a little harder to keep pace with current fashions. I wouldn’t want them to be ashamed of me.”
Grant chuckled. “Well that’s all very admirable, I’m sure – but I never would have expected to see you in something quite that … short.”
Lara’s dress, which an hour ago had stopped just short of her ankles, now covered her buttocks with a mere three inches to spare, thanks to Poppy’s scissors and her own hasty needlework. As mortified as she felt by this unaccustomed exposure, however, she was far more concerned with keeping secret the huge shit-filled bulge in the back of her white cotton panties, which was sagging so low that if she bent over the counter any further, it would peep below her hemline. She hoped fervently that Grant would not notice the smell.
Unfortunately she had not considered the effect that her newly-trimmed dress would have on her husband. With a growing smile he advanced on her and gave her bottom a playful swat, causing her to squeal in anxiety.
“What the…?” began Grant. He lifted up the back of her dress. “Lara!” he exclaimed, shocked. “You’ve … you’ve had an accident!”
“It’s not my fault, it’s the Brantasia!” Lara jabbered. “I had a bowlful to see what the effects were, because Emma and Poppy have started eating a lot of the stuff, and when the urge came I just couldn’t hold it!”
“But why on Earth didn’t you clean up?” asked Grant, bewildered.
“It only just happened! I was going to go and clean up after I had finished chopping the mushrooms.”
“Well good grief,” said Grant, shaking his head. “Here – let me take over the chopping. You go and get clean. And for heaven’s sake don’t let the girls see you, or you’ll never hear the end of it!”
Lara laughed nervously, then she waddled out of the room as fast as she dared. At the top of the stairs she met Poppy, who was naked and armed with a pair of scissors.
“Hi Mum,” said Poppy. She reached out with the scissors and began cutting buttons off the front of Lara’s dress, starting with the topmost.
“Stop it, Poppy!” said Lara. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“I just think that you shouldn’t keep such nice big boobs covered up so much,” said Poppy. She snipped off a button that was well below the level of her mother’s nipples, and the dress gaped open to reveal a huge expanse of cleavage. “That’s better,” she said with a naughty grin.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and empty out my panties,” said Lara.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Poppy. “I think you should keep them on.”
“Look,” hissed Lara. “Your dad just caught me with loaded panties and he’s expecting me to empty them out. How on Earth would I explain it to him if I went back down with all this poop still in my panties?”
“Tell him the truth,” said Poppy. “Tell him you like having full panties. Ask his permission to let you keep them on.”
“I can’t do that!” said Lara desperately. “He’ll think I’ve gone insane! He’ll leave me!”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” said Poppy, though she looked a little troubled. “The worst he’ll do is not give you permission.”
“Well I’m not doing it,” said Lara firmly. “I’m going to clean up and that’s that.”
“What’s going on?” asked Emma, emerging from her room. She, too, was naked.
“Mum wants to empty her panties,” said Poppy. “I told her she should ask Dad’s permission to keep them full, but she’s refusing.”
Emma folded her arms. “Oh really?” she said. “Well we can’t have our holier-than-thou hypocritical mother refusing to obey our orders, can we? I think this requires some form of punishment.”
Poppy grinned. “Yeah!” she said. “But, um, what?”
“I think we should go and tell Dad that Mum had sex with us this afternoon, and we filled her cunt with shit.”
“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Lara, shocked.
“Do you think he’ll believe us?” asked Poppy.
“Maybe not … until he sees the evidence.”
Lara’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “All right – I’ll go and ask your dad for permission to keep this shit in my panties.”
The girls grinned at each other. “Good!” said Poppy.
Lara trudged downstairs and found Grant in the living room. “Uh, darling?” she said.
“Yes dear?” asked Grant. “Good heavens, do you realise you’re falling out of your dress?”
“Um, yes,” said Lara wretchedly. “Um, do you think it would be okay if I kept this poop in my panties for a little while?”
Grant’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. “Why? Whatever for?” he asked.
“Well,” muttered Lara, staring at the floor, “it feels kind of nice, and…” She trailed off, not knowing what else to say.
Grant burst out laughing. “You what?” he said incredulously. “It feels nice to have poop in your panties?” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “I’d never have thought it of you, Lara – not in a million years. So you’ve discovered a new fetish, have you? Well far be it from me to stand in the way of your new-found sexuality, but couldn’t you have found something a little less … gross?”
Lara’s cheeks turned crimson and she hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure what’s come over me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Grant sympathetically. “I’m sure it’s just a phase. Don’t let the kids find out, though, otherwise they’ll never let you hear the end of it. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want them to try something like that themselves.”
“Um,” said Lara, “they kind of already know. And they are doing it themselves. In fact they were doing it before I was.”
“Really?” asked Grant, at once surprised and alarmed.
“Yes! You should see the state of Poppy’s room – it’s disgusting! There’s filth all over her bed – she’s been sleeping in her own waste! And Emma’s, too, I think. They’re behaving like a couple of … of…”
“Of what? Coprophiliacs?” suggested Grant. “Look who’s talking! But this does worry me – I think I’d better go and have a talk with the two of them.”
Lara contemplated how this might go, and a feeling of panic came over her as she imagined the girls, under pressure from their father’s wrath, blurting out the sordid tale of what had happened this afternoon. “You know what?” she said quickly. “I think they’re embarrassed enough already because I found out what they were doing – I think it might be kinder to them if they continue to believe you know nothing about it. Why don’t you let me talk to them instead?”
Grant, half out of his seat, shrugged and sat back down. “If you wish,” he said. “I’ll just pretend I don’t know anything about it then.” Secretly he was relieved – he did not relish bringing up such an uncomfortable subject with his teenaged daughters. “Just make sure they don’t make a mess where I might find it.” He picked up his handheld and pressed a button so that the wall monitor lit up with the day’s news headlines. “The same goes for you,” he added. “Don’t be sitting down on our nice leather sofa with your messy panties on.”
“Of course not,” said Lara. “Thank you darling.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Grant.
Reaching back to cradle the huge lump in her panties, Lara felt a mixture of relief and unease as she waddled through to the kitchen to resume preparing dinner.
******************
That night, Emma and Poppy took it in turns to pee on each other and shit in their panties while they lay in Poppy’s bed together. At one o’clock in the morning, Emma said, “You know Poppy, tomorrow’s a big day for us. Maybe we should try to get some sleep.”
“Okay,” agreed Poppy. “But first, I have a really cool idea. Let’s go and fill Mum’s panties with our shit while she’s asleep. You know how heavily she sleeps – she won’t wake up. And when she gets up in the morning, she’ll think she did it herself.”
Emma giggled. “That’s a great idea, Poppy!” she said.
So the two sisters crept quietly through to their parents’ bedroom, carrying a small torch and a large mound of shit in a plastic bowl they had retrieved from the kitchen. The floorboards creaked occasionally, but this small sound could barely be heard over their father’s loud snores. As luck would have it, Lara was lying on her side, facing in to the middle of the bed, so it was an easy task to pull back the covers and expose her panty-clad bottom.
Here they had a surprise – in the light from Poppy’s torch, they could see that their mother’s panties were already bulging with shit. There was no room for any more, so the girls, giggling quietly to themselves, hurried back to Poppy’s room. There Poppy lay down in the piles of shit on her bed, and spread her legs so that Emma could heap the shit from the bowl over her pussy. When the bowl was empty, Emma pulled the covers over Poppy and kissed her goodnight.
“I’m going to have a quick shower and then get into my nice clean bed,” she said. “Enjoy your night of filth, my little shit-slut.”
“I will,” promised Poppy with a grin. “Night Emma.”
******************
The next day their coprophiliac proclivities were forgotten, albeit temporarily, as they prepared for their first rehearsal. Emma and Poppy bolted down a bowlful each of Brantasia, as did Lara, who tried not to look her daughters in the eye as she poured herself a generous helping. Grant watched in astonishment.
“Good Lord,” he said. “Anyone would think you three were trying to have accidents in your panties. Have you any idea how strong that stuff is?”
“We do,” said Emma, and Poppy giggled.
Grant sighed and shook his head. “Well if you embarrass yourselves today while you’re rehearsing, you’ll only have yourselves to blame.”
After breakfast, as the girls were brushing their teeth, Lara put her head around the bathroom door. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes,” she said. “Make sure you’re ready!”
Emma spat. “We will,” she said. “But you’re overdressed, Mum. You’d better go and put on something more … sexy.”
Lara whimpered unhappily and withdrew. Ten minutes later she went to Emma’s room. “Ready?” she said.
Emma and Poppy emerged, Emma in a buttock-grazing skirt and low-cut tank top, and Poppy in a splay-dress that covered her buttocks with barely an inch to spare. Lara herself was wearing a newly-trimmed dress that came one third of the way down her thighs.
“Better, Mum,” said Emma, “but not quite short enough.”
“Well I don’t have time to shorten it any more,” said Lara. “But you two should put on something more conservative – Terry will have a fit when he sees you!”
“No he won’t,” said Emma stubbornly. “He knows what young girls wear today. Besides, is he even going to be there?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Lara. “Oh well – I suppose we should get going anyway. Come along.” She led them downstairs and out to the car.
The trip to Manchester was uneventful, except that at one point Lara gasped and lifted her bottom off the seat. Seconds later a faint smell of shit wafted into the back seat. Poppy and Emma both laughed, and teased their mother mercilessly for the rest of the journey.
“I won’t come in,” said Lara, when they arrived at the venue for the rehearsal – a large house owned by a friend of Val’s. By now Lara had been sitting in a big pile of her own shit for over an hour, and she dreaded to think what her dress would look like at the back if she tried to get out of the car. “Good luck, you two!”
Emma felt suddenly bad for all the teasing. “Thanks Mum,” she said, leaning into the driver’s window and giving Lara a big hug. “Thanks for everything. I’m really sorry I hurt you yesterday. You know we really do love you, right? Despite … everything?”
“Then I wish you’d let me off the hook with this poo thing,” said Lara. “And the minidresses. It’s horribly embarrassing.”
“Yes, well, I’m not sure that you’re not secretly enjoying some of it,” said Emma. “You came pretty hard last night.”
Lara blushed. “That’s enough of that kind of talk,” she said. “Go on inside now, or you’ll be late. I’ll see you at five.”
Inside they were met by Val, the record producer, who welcomed them briefly and then ushered them into the living room, where Chloe and Rosie were already chatting with Marge.
“I’m not staying,” said Val. “Urgent business. And Brian’s not here yet, so you might as well spend some time with Marge and try on the outfits she’s got for you.” With that he hurried out.
“Hello Emma, hello Poppy,” said Marge warmly. “Are you ready to try on some outfits?”
“Sure,” said both girls.
“Since it’s just us girls here,” said Marge, “there’s no sense in sending you upstairs to change. You might as well try on your clothes right here. Emma, this is for you…”
She handed Emma a short-sleeved dress made from stretch-denim, a fabric which, it turned out, Marge had made good use of – nearly all of their outfits were made from it. Emma hesitated before trying hers on, but once Chloe started undressing, she felt bold enough to strip off her skirt and top. Wearing just a pair of white panties and a lacy white bra, she unfolded the denim dress and pulled it on over her head.
It was tight, but not uncomfortably so. She had to struggle a bit to tug it down over her breasts, and then over her hips, but once it was in place it was quite comfortable. She was rather alarmed at how low-cut it was – the neckline was fashionably square-cut, but unusually wide, exposing her chest almost from one armpit to the other. And it was so deep that a good deal of her bra was showing.
“Oh dear, that will never do,” said Marge, when she noticed Emma. “Take your bra off, love.”
Emma managed to get her bra off without removing her dress, and she looked down uneasily at her ample chest. Both her areolas were peeping above the neckline, though fortunately her nipples were still just out of sight. She reached her hand down inside the front of the dress and adjusted each breast slightly until her areolas were covered again. Then, reaching back to feel her bottom, she found that the dress only just covered her buttocks. At the front, it only just covered her panties. Looking in a full-length mirror at one end of the room, she realised that the hemline had been cut asymmetrically – it was higher at the front than at the back. If she sat down in this dress, there was no way she was going to be able to keep her panties hidden.
Poppy, meanwhile, was pulling up a very skimpy pair of Daisy Dukes. When she had got it zipped up at the front, she giggled naughtily as she felt her bottom with her hands and discovered that the shorts stopped just halfway down her buttocks, thus exposing much of her white panties. Only a thin string of a gusset ran between her legs, and at the front the shorts were so narrow and so high-cut that her panties were showing either side. And if that wasn’t skimpy enough, the shorts were so low-rise that there was barely two inches of vertical coverage at each hip, and her panties peeped over the top all the way around. Figuring that it would not be acceptable for her panties to show like this, Poppy slipped out of the shorts, removed her panties, and pulled her shorts back on. As she tugged them into place, the gusset started to slip between her labia a little, but there was enough width at the front for this not to be visible to anyone standing in front of her.
Her top was a little denim lace-up jacket, cut just below her breasts and so small that even when she laced it up as tightly as she could, there was still a gap of some ten inches between the two halves, making it very difficult for her to keep her nipples covered. She managed, though, and when she looked in the mirror she was very pleased with the result.
Rosie, the fair-skinned redhead, was rather less thrilled with her own outfit. It was a non-stretchy denim minidress with slender shoulder straps which gradually widened as they descended towards her breasts, the space between them turning into a plunging neckline which ended a couple of inches below her navel. The sides of the dress swept downwards and around her back, starting just below the level of her nipples at the front and finishing in another deep ‘V’ which ended at the point where her buttock cleavage began. A bra was clearly not an option with a dress like this, and Rosie had already removed hers. The skirt part of the dress was micro-short, finishing just below her buttocks, and although it fitted closely, it was not skin-tight … one shrug of her shoulders and the whole thing would just fall to the floor.
“I don’t think this is quite what Terry had in mind,” said Rosie timidly. “And my parents are going to just kill me if they see me wearing something like this.”
Chloe, on the other hand, was quite cool about her outfit, and she looked stunning in it. She was wearing a seven-inch stretch-denim microskirt below which the lower curves of her buttocks peeped barely perceptibly, and a buttonless denim blouse which tied together at the front and revealed a lot of cleavage. She looked Rosie up and down. “Well I think you look smashing Rosie,” she said. “You too, Emma and Poppy. I like this look very much.”
“Well … so do I,” said Emma. “And thanks Chloe – I know we can’t hold a candle to you. But don’t you think Terry will flip out when he sees us like this?”
“He might,” said Marge with a chuckle. “But Val’s running the show now, not Terry, and Val, I can assure you, will be most happy with these outfits. Besides, it’s not like most of today’s female pop singers don’t wear less than that.”
“But I’m going to fall out of this thing!” wailed Rosie. “Look!” She took a step to the left and bounced back on to her right foot. Sure enough, the left strap of her dress fell off her shoulder, and almost the entire side of the dress fell away to expose her left breast. “See?”
“Nice boob, Rosie!” said Emma, and the others laughed. Rosie blushed and retrieved the left strap from down by her hip where it had fallen, and covered her breast again.
“Yes, yes I see the problem,” said Marge, smiling. “Perhaps we’ll use some tape to hold the dress in place when you perform.”
At that moment Brian walked in. “Holy crap!” he exclaimed when he saw the girls. “Um, er, is everyone ready to rehearse?”
“Hi Brian,” said Emma, trying not to laugh at his reaction. Then she froze as the pressure in her bowels, which had been quietly building over the last hour, intensified with a suddenness that made her gasp, and as the others looked at her in mounting astonishment, she felt her anus flower open as a torrent of semi-soft shit poured out of her anus, filling her panties and ballooning them downwards below the hem of her microdress. Quickly reaching capacity, the elastic of her panties was pushed away from her buttocks, whereupon large chunks of shit oozed out of the sides and dropped to the floor with a series of moist splats.
“Oops!” she said with a strange mixture of embarrassment and secret pleasure. Then her shit, rushing forward along her gusset, reached her clitoris and she moaned loudly in orgasm.
Poppy, her hand over her mouth, giggled excitedly at her sister’s predicament. Then she said, “Oh no! It’s happening to me too!” She had not yet, in fact, come to the same point as Emma, but as she relaxed her anus and pushed, her bowels took over and thrust the entire contents of her rectum and large intestine into her Daisy Dukes, which were spectacularly ill-equipped for the task of holding such a large quantity of shit. The brown mess immediately pushed downwards past the string-gusset of her shorts and cascaded to the floor between her legs, where it built up into a huge pile between her feet.
“Great heavens, girls, whatever are you doing?” exclaimed Marge, her eyes wide.
“You’ve been eating Brantasia!” Brian accused Emma, pointing a finger at her.
Now it was Emma’s turn to be astonished. “However did you know that?” she asked.
“Nothing else has that effect!” said Brian. He turned to Marge. “It’s becoming quite a popular thing,” he said. “It started about six months ago, when someone discovered that if you eat more than the recommended quantity of Brantasia, you not only shit like a horse, but it also – allegedly – feels really amazing to do so. As you could no doubt tell from Emma’s … uh … reaction. And now, all over the country, women are eating tons and tons of Brantasia.”
“How come I haven’t heard of this?” asked Marge, staring with fascination at the pile of shit between Poppy’s feet.
“I’ve heard of it,” said Rosie, her eyes fixed on the back of Emma’s panties. “Does it really feel that good, Emma?”
Emma turned and smiled at Rosie. “It’s amazing!” she confided.
“I think it’s gross!” said Chloe, grimacing with distaste. “Although it doesn’t smell nearly as bad as I would have thought.”
“That’s another effect of the Brantasia,” explained Brian. “Anyway Marge, I don’t know why you haven’t heard of it, but I’m guessing it’s because you don’t seek out that kind of news story. It’s been frequently reported, but I guess it never makes the top headlines because the media has its hands full with the antics of Jennifer Wolfe, Shannon Ferguson, Kendra Clark and so on.”
“Is this true, then, Emma?” asked Marge. “Have you and Poppy been eating lots of Brantasia so you can poop bucketloads and have orgasms doing it?”
Emma blushed. “Well … yeah, I suppose that’s about the size of it.”
“The size of it is enormous,” said Chloe, disapprovingly. “How on Earth are you going to get that out of the carpet?”
“Oh, it’ll come out,” said Brian. “Zoomkleen works nicely.”
All eyes turned to Brian.
“And how do you know that?” asked Marge, trying not to grin.
Brian looked horrified. “Uh, so I gather! I mean, I wouldn’t know from personal experience or anything…” Then his shoulders slumped as he realised none of them were buying this. “All right,” he said, “my girlfriend likes to … well … she’s been doing it for a few months. But for God’s sake don’t mention it if you ever meet her!” he added fiercely. “She’d kill me!”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” said Marge, laughing. “Do you have any recommendations for how to get it out of Poppy’s shorts?”
“Um, we find most detergents work just fine,” said Brian, his cheeks very red.
“I suppose Poppy and I should go and clean up?” said Emma.
“Yes, unless you want to stay like that while you rehearse,” said Marge, chuckling.
Emma shrugged, and Marge burst out laughing. “You do want to stay like that!” she exclaimed.
“No way!” said Chloe vehemently. “I’m not rehearsing with Emma while her knickers are full of shit.”
“Emma, go on upstairs and get yourself cleaned up,” said Marge. “Try not to drop anything on the way. You too, Poppy. You can clean up the mess on the floor later.”
The two sisters cleaned themselves up, and then all four girls changed back into their non-denim clothes for the rehearsal. They spent the morning singing Brian’s songs, and then they had some lunch (which Poppy and Emma both supplemented with a bowlful each of Brantasia). Afterwards, Emma and Poppy cleaned up the mess they had made earlier, putting all their shit in a strong polythene bag so that they could take it home. Then all four girls rehearsed some more. At about two o’clock, Poppy filled her panties, closely followed by Emma, who had fortunately just put hers back on after having washed and dried them. Since Chloe was still unwilling to rehearse with them in such a state, they were obliged to take a break to clean themselves. Again their shit went into the polythene bag, which by now was so full and heavy the handles were threatening to break.
When five o’clock came around and their respective rides arrived outside, Marge took Emma and Poppy aside. “Are you two likely to be having these accidents while performing?” she asked.
“It’s possible,” said Emma guardedly.
Marge nodded. “Then I’ll make sure you’re properly equipped in terms of underwear,” she said. “It would be good if your panties could ‘contain the load’, so to speak, even if you’re dancing vigorously.”
“That would be great!” said Poppy. “You think you can get us panties that could do that?”
“Oh, I’m sure I can,” said Marge. “Incontinence panties come in all shapes and sizes these days – even skimpy bikini briefs. And they’re as thin as regular panties.”
A minute later, as they climbed into Lara’s car, Emma sniffed the air. “You been crapping your panties again Mum?” she asked.
Lara was by now sitting in a huge pile of shit, which was barely concealed by her minidress. She blushed and said, “Yes, I had another little accident. Now shut up and fasten your seatbelts.”
The girls laughed. “So you had a good day?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Lara crossly. “I had to go to the hospital to have my womb flushed out. Have you any idea how humiliating that was? Not to mention uncomfortable.”
Emma felt guilty. “Sorry Mum – I only meant to fill your vagina.”
“They thought I was a prostitute!” said Lara. “A prostitute! Me!”
“Poor Mum,” said Poppy sympathetically.
“Mum,” said Emma suddenly. “Could you take us to a sex shop?”
“What? No!” said Lara. “Absolutely not. They’re horrible places, and anyway you’re way too young.”
“Not according to the new consent laws,” said Emma. “Please?”
“No! What do you want to go there for anyway?”
“I want sex toys!” said Emma. “Dildos and things – you know.” Then she added, more sternly, “Should we tell Dad why you went to the hospital today?”
Lara pursed her lips. “If I let you borrow mine, will that satisfy you?”
“You have a sex toy?” asked Poppy in surprise.
“Hush. Yes. Just the one,” said Lara. “Your father’s idea, of course.”
Emma was intrigued. “Well it depends on what it is.”
Lara sighed. “It’s a … a dildo, with a hollow tube running up the middle so it can, er, ejaculate. You know, like a real penis. It has a sac at the base which you can fill with whatever you want … warm water, milk, cream…”
“Shit?” asked Emma.
“I do wish you wouldn’t use that word,” said Lara. “But yes, I suppose you could. The thing came with a few different sizes of sac – the largest one would probably be big enough to fit a ‘full load’, if that’s what you wanted to use it for.”
“That sounds perfect!” said Emma. “Okay Mum, we’ll borrow your dildo instead of going to a sex shop … if you agree to let us use it on you.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” sighed Lara. “All right then.”
As she drove them home, Poppy, who was sitting behind the driver’s seat, reached around under her mother’s arms and started unbuttoning Lara’s dress.
“Stop that,” said Lara. “What are you doing?”
But Poppy continued until all of the buttons were undone. “Take your shoulders out,” she said.
“I’ll do no such thing!” said Lara. “What if someone sees?”
“You won’t get into trouble,” said Poppy. “No more public indecency laws, remember?”
“That’s not true,” said Lara. “The indecency laws have simply been revised to exclude public nudity, which the stupid government no longer considers to be indecent.”
“Well then,” said Emma. “Poppy’s right – you won’t get into trouble if you take off your dress.”
“I suppose not,” said Lara, “but I’m still keeping it on.”
“How about if I just rip it along this seam?” suggested Poppy, tugging on the shoulder of the dress.”
“Hey, don’t do that!” said Lara. “All right all right – I’ll take it off.”
She slipped her arms out of the dress, and Poppy pulled the garment down to her waist, exposing her bra-clad breasts to anyone who happened to look inside their car. The dress also fell away from Lara’s legs, exposing her shit-filled panties as well as the mound of shit that was sitting between and on top of her thighs. Then Poppy picked up the bag of shit that they had filled back at Val’s friend’s house. Undoing her seatbelt, she waited until Lara stopped at some traffic lights, she leaned forward between the front seats, and emptied the entire bag over Lara’s breasts.
Lara shrieked in horror and dismay. “Oh my God, what have you done?” she cried as the shit slid down over her breasts and built up in a huge pile on her panties and thighs. The lights changed and she was obliged to move off, turning right and picking up speed as she ascended the long slip lane that led up to the motorway.
Poppy and Emma kissed and cuddled for a few minutes in the back seat, and then Poppy once again reached around under her mother’s armpits. Grabbing handfuls of shit, she started smearing them over Lara’s belly, chest and bra.
“Oh Poppy, you’re making a horrible mess!” wailed Lara, powerless to do anything about it though for a moment she ineffectually tried to ward off Poppy’s hands with one of her own. So she merely whimpered unhappily as Poppy began stuffing both cups of her bra full of shit, and slapping layer after layer of shit on the rest of her torso.
After a while, Poppy reached down, slipped her hand inside Lara’s panties, and started rubbing her mother’s clitoris.
“Oh – stop that,” said Lara, but without much conviction. Her driving started to become a little erratic as she gasped and moaned in reluctant pleasure.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Mum,” said Emma uneasily.
“Sorry – yes,” said Lara … as if it was her fault that her concentration was wavering.
She was about to climax when Poppy suddenly stopped rubbing. Lara, disappointed, said, “Why did you stop? Come on dear – you might as well finish me off.”
“Say please,” said Poppy, grinning.
“I’m not going to beg for you to give me an orgasm,” said Lara firmly. But she smiled as Poppy resumed stroking her clitoris. Once again, however, Poppy stopped just before Lara could climax. “Good grief!” snapped Lara petulantly. “I was so close! Couldn’t you just finish me off … please?”
“What’s it worth?” asked Poppy mischievously, removing her hand from Lara’s panties so that she could unhook her mother’s bra at the back. She pulled it off Lara’s shoulders. “Take your arms out of this,” she said.
Lara complied with not a word of objection as she said in an exasperated tone, “What’s it worth? I don’t know – what do you have in mind?”
Poppy scooped the shit out of the cups of her mother’s bra, and used it to coat Lara’s breasts. Lara shivered as Poppy teased her nipples between her fingers. Then Poppy pushed her hand back into the shit in Lara’s panties. As she began slowly rubbing Lara’s clitoris, she said, “First, tell us how much you like having shit in your panties.”
“Well … ooh, that’s nice … um, well, obviously I like it,” said Lara, her breaths becoming heavier. “It does kind of feel nice.”
“Now tell us how nice it feels to have me rubbing shit on your boobs,” said Poppy, as with her free left hand she started massaging even more shit into Lara’s left breast.
“It’s very nice, dear, but not the sort of thing you should be doing to your own mother…”
“Now tell us what you’ll be wearing to church tomorrow,” said Poppy.
“To church? Why, a long dress, of course.”
Poppy stopped rubbing Lara’s clitoris. “A long dress?”
“Well I suppose I could shorten it a bit,” said Lara.
Poppy began to rub again … very, very slowly. “A bit?”
“A lot,” conceded Lara. “I’ll make it very short, darling. Just please – rub faster!”
“How short?” asked Poppy, speeding up her rubbing very slightly.
“Er … very short. Um, shorter than this one.”
“Be more specific!” said Poppy.
“Uh, let’s say – two inches below my buttocks?” suggested Lara.
Poppy slowed down.
“Oh God, please!” begged Lara. “All right – I’ll cut it to the exact level of my buttocks!”
Poppy speeded up a little. “Pretty good,” she murmured.
“Maybe even shorter!” gasped Lara. “How about – one inch above the level of my buttocks!”
“Very good,” said Poppy, speeding up even more. “And what will you do to show off your lovely big boobs?”
“Ahhhh …. Oohh … yes … yes …”
“No coming yet!” said Poppy, slowing down her rubbing. “Tell me about your boobs!”
“Um, let’s see – if I wear my green-and-white dress, which zips up at the back, I could cut the neckline lower – oh faster please darling!”
“Describe how much lower!” Poppy commanded her.
“Mum, slow down!” yelped Emma.
“Oops! Sorry dear,” said Lara, easing up on the accelerator. “Keep rubbing, Poppy!”
“Describe!” said Poppy.
“Oh – um, I’ll cut it so low that my bra is showing,” said Lara.
Poppy rubbed a little harder.
“And then, I won’t wear a bra!” moaned Lara, squirming in her seat as she approached her orgasm. Her shit mashed deliciously against her anus and pussy. “Oh … yes! Oh yes Poppy! Oh, faster dear! I’ll cut it even lower, so the edges of my nipples are showing. Ohhhhh! And I’ll cut the hem shorter still – two inches, no three inches above the level of my bottom! Ahhhhhhhh!!!!” With a final orgasmic moan of ecstasy, she veered on to the hard shoulder. The reverberations caused by the tyres running over the rumble strip soon brought her concentration back, however, and she swerved back into her lane. “Oh God!” she said. “That was wonderful darling – thank you.”
“You know we’re going to hold you to those dress modifications,” said Emma, rattled by her mother’s driving but aroused nonetheless by Poppy’s machinations.
“Yes … yes, I know,” Lara panted. “Oh dear, oh dear, whatever will they say! I don’t suppose we could go to a different church tomorrow, could we? Somewhere where they don’t know us?”
“No,” said Poppy firmly. “I think the rest of the congregation ought to know just how hypocritical you’ve been. Ranting at the immorality of today’s youth, when really you’re just a dirty shit-slut who gets off on having her daughters rub shit into her pussy.”
“That’s a little unfair…” began Lara, but she knew it was as near the truth as made no difference. “I guess I am a hypocrite. Maybe I do deserve to be humiliated like that. Very well – I’ll cut the dress like I said I would.”
And that wasn’t the only promise she had made, four orgasms later, as she pulled into a petrol station. She turned to Emma. “Darling,” she said, “Since you’re still decent, would you be a dear and fill up the tank for me?”
“Not a chance,” said Emma, grinning wickedly. “I want to see you get out and fill up yourself.”
“Oh dear,” fretted Lara. “Poppy?”
“Nope!” said Poppy excitedly.
Lara sighed and pulled her dress back on, fastening it over the caked shit that covered her upper body. Then she got out and put her thumb to the contact. A little voice said, “I’m sorry – my thumbprint recognition system is currently off-line. Please pay inside.”
“Bother it, these things are always broken!” muttered Lara. Her stomach flip-flopped as she looked into the store and saw the short queue at the counter. She opened the driver’s door and leaned in. “I’ve got enough petrol to last until tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll come back when I’m less messy.”
“No way!” said Emma firmly. “You might forget and then run empty somewhere. You must definitely fill up now.”
Lara reluctantly stood up and closed the door. With a queasy feeling in her stomach, she filled up the tank and then walked slowly to the door of the shop. A man was exiting just as she got there, and she stood well back to let him pass. Fortunately he was preoccupied with the cigarettes he had just bought and paid her no attention.
Inside, Lara hung back between aisles of biscuits and magazines until the last customer at the counter pressed his thumb against the small black payment pad. She quickly took his place as he walked off towards the exit.
“Pump three,” she said quickly.
“Christ on a bike!” said the man behind the counter. “Eh up, lass, what’s wi’ all that shit on you?”
“Please – I’m embarrassed enough as it is,” said Lara, blushing to the roots of her hair. “I just want to get home so I can clean up.”
“I’m not surprised!” said the man. “By ‘eck, whatever ‘appened to you?”
“I’d really rather not talk about it,” muttered Lara.
“Well just put your thumb on t’pad, if it’s not all covered in shit,” he said. “’Ow’re you payin’?”
“Visa,” said Lara, and she pressed her thumb to the pad.
“That’ll do nicely, lass. ‘Ave a nice day, then.”
“Thank you,” said Lara, and she hurried out as fast as she could. Underneath her dress, her loaded panties bounced and splatted against her buttocks.
“’Ere, you’ve dropped a load o’ shit on t’floor!” protested the cashier.
But it was too late – Lara was gone. A moment later, as she drove off from the pump, Poppy was already removing her dress again…
******************
That night, Poppy and Emma crept back into their parents’ bedroom. This time they were armed with Lara’s dildo, which she had given them upon their return from Manchester, along with a large sac, filled with shit from Poppy’s bed, which was attached to the dildo by means of a short tube. Wriggling in amongst the shit were hundreds of maggots, no doubt offspring of the flies which had been crawling all over Poppy’s bed ever since Lara had opened the window in that room.
Emma pulled back the sheets covering Lara, and shone the torch at Lara’s bottom. Once again her panties were filled with shit, which had spilled out and was making a mess of the bottom sheet. As Emma pulled Lara’s gusset to one side, however, Lara stirred in her sleep and rolled over on to her back.
“Shit,” whispered Poppy. “What now?”
Emma leaned close to her mother’s head. “Mum!” she whispered.
Lara’s eyes snapped open and she sat up. “What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.
“Nothing, nothing,” whispered Emma. “Lie back down. Don’t wake Dad. We just want you to spread your legs.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” muttered Lara. “So now I can’t even sleep peacefully without you wanting to molest me?”
“Please?” said Emma.
“All right, all right,” said Lara irritably. She raised her knees and spread them apart. “Like this?”
Poppy smiled and nodded. She reached out and pulled the gusset of her mother’s panties aside, then she slid the tip of the dildo into Lara’s cunt. Holding it in place with one hand, she used the other to squeeze the sac. But the toy was designed for runnier liquids than their shit, and she found she could not exert enough pressure with only one hand. “Here, hold this,” she whispered to Emma.
Emma took over the job of holding the dildo in place, and Poppy used both hands to squeeze the distended, shit-filled plastic sac. Gradually it compressed, and Lara’s gasps told the girls that their mixture of shit and maggots was now squirting into her cunt. It took a couple of minutes to completely flatten the sac, by which time Lara’s cunt was so full that the pressure was pushing the dildo out. Emma let it come out, and then she replaced Lara’s gusset.
But Poppy had other ideas. “Mum, since you’ve been such a good sport, I think you deserve a reward.”
“Huh? What reward?” whispered Lara.
In answer, Poppy leaned down, pulled Lara’s messy gusset aside, and started sucking on her mother’s clitoris. Lara gasped and moaned softly, making no attempt to close her legs. “Oh yes,” she whispered. “Thank you darling.” Soon she was bucking her hips in an intense orgasm, which lasted for a full minute since Poppy did not stop sucking.
Then Emma leaned forward to whisper, “Mum, do you need to pee at all?”
“A little,” said Lara.
“Then go ahead. Poppy will catch it.”
Without really knowing why she was doing so, Lara let go and peed, and Poppy thirstily drank as the yellow liquid came hissing out of her mother’s urethra. Then she pulled Lara’s panties back across, and sucked the last few spurts through the sodden gusset.
“Goodnight Mum,” murmured Emma, kissing Lara on the cheek.
“Goodnight Mum,” said Poppy, kissing her mother on the lips. She tried to stick her tongue into Lara’s mouth, but her mother kept her lips pressed shut. She pulled back. “Kiss me properly, Mum!” she whispered fiercely. This time, when she pressed her lips against her mother’s, Lara opened her mouth and the two of them entwined tongues for the first time.
Just then Grant began to stir. “Come on Poppy!” whispered Emma.
The two girls stole quietly out of the room. Meanwhile, Grant had awoken and was sniffing the air. “Lara? Did you have an accident in the bed again?”
“Yes darling,” whispered Lara. “I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll wash everything in the morning.”
“Ugh,” said Grant. “It’s the couch for me again, then.” He stumbled out of bed and left the room.
Lara sighed unhappily and drifted off into a troubled sleep.
******************
The next morning, Lara was as good as her word, trimming her green and white dress until it looked absolutely scandalous on her. Emma measured the distance between her hem and the bottom of her buttocks, and was satisfied to note that it was nearly four inches. At the front, with her eyes on a level with Lara’s crotch, she could see more than two vertical inches of Lara’s pale blue panties. The neckline was now so low-cut that Lara’s areolas were partially visible, and whenever Lara leaned over even slightly, her nipples popped into view. True to her word she was not wearing a bra.
Grant was dismayed when he saw her. “You’re going to church in that?” he exclaimed. “Good heavens woman, what’s come over you?”
Lara straightened herself up, thrusting out her chest proudly so that her nipples popped over the top of her neckline. “Darling, this is the new me,” she said. “Emma and Poppy have made me realise that I’ve been a hypocrite all this time, decrying today’s sexualised culture when in fact I get off on the very same things I previously lambasted. In fact it seems I am rather more perverted than most women. So you see, darling, I’m afraid you married a … a slut. A shit-slut, to be more precise. I can’t deny it any longer.”
Grant’s jaw had dropped halfway through this outburst, and it was currently trying to drop further. He tried to speak, but for a moment his lips moved noiselessly. Then he shook himself. “Wait a minute,” he said. “You say you’re a slut? Have you been having sex with other men? Because if you have…”
“No!” said Lara quickly. “Of course I haven’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“All right then,” said Grant. “So the symptoms of this … what should I call it … sluttishness? … are that you like crapping in your panties and wearing skimpy clothes?”
Lara glanced at Emma, but only briefly. “There are some other things,” she said. “I like to have my body covered with poo. Emma and Poppy have been pooping on me and peeing on me and rubbing it all over me. And I like it,” she added defiantly.
Grant pulled at his hair and started to pace up and down. “You’ve been messing around with our daughters?” he exclaimed incredulously.
“Don’t blame Mum for that,” said Emma. “We pretty much blackmailed her into it, and she hated it at first. But we were angry at her for telling us off about the state of Poppy’s room, when she was standing there in front of us with her panties full of shit.”
Grant was shaking his head as he marched back and forth. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “So you’re telling me that the three of you are having some kind of … of incestuous, lesbian, coprophiliac affair? Since when?”
“Since yesterday afternoon,” said Poppy. “Emma’s right, though – it wasn’t Mum’s fault. We’ve made her do all this stuff.”
“Bullshit!” said Grant angrily. “Lara’s an adult – she didn’t have to do a damn thing she didn’t want to!”
“Darling,” said Lara anxiously, “you’re right, I suppose – I should have struggled more, or something. But maybe deep down I was enjoying it, even when I thought I was hating it, and so I didn’t fight it as hard as I should. Dear, I know I’ve been bad … and you’re entitled to be angry about that. Just … please think about it, and then tell me what you want to do about it.”
“Do about it?” said Grant. “What the hell am I going to do about it? Divorce you? Have you thrown in prison for child abuse?”
“Uh, legally we’re both old enough to consent,” Poppy reminded him.
“But incest is still illegal!” shouted Grant.
“Then you’ll have to get us all thrown in prison,” said Emma.
“Maybe I will!” said Grant. He stormed out of the room. A moment later he came back. “Well of course I’m not going to have you all thrown in prison,” he said. “But what the hell am I supposed to do?”
The two girls, concerned that their family was about to split apart, came to either side of Lara, who protectively put an arm around each of them. Then she stiffened as Poppy slipped a hand into the back of her panties.
“I should divorce you,” said Grant, speaking half to himself. “I’ll take the kids with me, so they can have some semblance of a normal life.”
“We won’t go with you!” said Emma hotly. “We want to stay with Mum!”
“And we can,” said Poppy as she wormed her middle finger up into Lara’s anus. “We’re old enough to decide for ourselves.”
Grant shrugged helplessly. “Then what? You want me to leave you here with your mother, so you can carry on with your disgusting practices?”
“We don’t want you to leave, Dad!” said Emma. “We love you too!”
Grant slumped down into a chair and put his head in his hands. “If I stay, will you stop pooping and peeing all over each other?”
“Probably not,” said Lara levelly. “Do you think you can ever accept us for who we are?”
Grant got to his feet again. “I don’t know,” he said. “I need some time to think about it.” He marched out of the room. A moment later, they heard the front door open and shut.
“That went well, I thought,” said Poppy brightly.
“Shut up and take your finger out of my arse,” said Lara. “It looks like we’ll be going to church on our own. Go and have some breakfast, both of you … and Poppy, find yourself a less transparent top. I can see your nipples.”
“So? I can see yours,” said Poppy.
“Fair enough,” said Lara with a sigh. She adjusted her dress so that her nipples were covered again (but only just). This was going to be an awkward and embarrassing service…
******************
And so it was. Murmurs rippled through the congregation as Lara walked in with her daughters and took a seat near the back. One of Lara’s friends, a sharp-featured woman in her forties named Jilly, rushed over from her own pew as soon as she saw Lara’s microdress, Poppy’s indecently short splay skirt and see-through top, and Emma’s low-cut t-shirt and pleated microskirt.
“Lara! What’s come over you?” demanded Jilly. “I thought you hated skimpy clothing! It’s one thing for your kids to disrespect the church by turning up in the kind of indecent outfits that they wear to school, but it’s quite another for you to wear such outfits yourself – indeed, your dress is probably skimpier than anything I’ve seen worn by a teenager in here! Explain yourself, Lara! This is intolerable! What on Earth will the vicar say when she arrives? She’ll have you thrown out! I never thought I’d see the day when my friend Lara would get herself up like a shameless hussy, showing her knickers and goodness knows what else in a dress that would make a prostitute blush. Are you ill? Is something preventing you from thinking clearly? Just look at you, Lara! You’re a disgrace to this church! It wouldn’t surprise me if the vicar forbids you from entering here ever again! What’s the matter with you? Talk to me!”
“I would if I could get a word in edgeways,” said Lara. “The simple truth, Jilly, is that I have been exposed as a hypocrite by my very smart daughters, and as a penance I am dressing as skimpily as they do.”
“Oh!” said Jilly, taken aback. “A penance, is it? Well … you poor dear! What kind of hypocritical behaviour was it? No – don’t tell me – it’s none of my business. I shall of course support your decision, Lara – I always stand by my friends in their hour of need – but do you think perhaps … perhaps communion might not be a great idea today…?”
Lara smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Jilly, but as painful as it will be to walk the full length of this church in order to take the bread and wine, I feel it is part of my penance to do so.”
Jilly nodded. “Quite right,” she said. She took one of Lara’s hands in her own. “So brave!” she whispered, then she turned and hurried back to her own family.
“Gosh, I never realised what an annoying cow she is until now!” said Lara quietly, and the girls giggled.
The story of Lara’s ‘penance’ spread like wildfire through the assembled churchgoers, and soon all kinds of people were coming up to her to wish her well. Many of them were men, for whom wishing her well seemed a long way from their minds as they uttered rambling diatribes of support in the direction of her chest.
“This is kind of fun!” whispered Lara in amusement as yet another elderly gentleman finally withdrew, mopping his brow with a white handkerchief.
“Mum, much as I’m enjoying the view, I should probably mention that your left nipple is showing,” said Emma.
“I know,” said Lara, and she winked at Emma.
Poppy giggled. “Mum, you rock!”
The long walk to the front of the church at communion was surprisingly untraumatic for Lara, who was by now almost comfortable with the amount of flesh she had on display. As she approached the front of the queue for the altar rail, however, disaster struck. Her laden bowels gave a mighty squeeze, and although she tried to clench her anus, it was impossible, and a long rope of shit snaked out into her panties with alarming speed.
“Oh no,” she murmured as her panties filled up, bulging enormously, and started to descend under the weight.
Poppy, who was behind her mother, said, “Oh heck, Mum!”
For a moment Lara considered waddling out of the church in humiliating retreat. If she did, she could explain this as an accident. If she continued to the altar rail, it would be hard to argue that she did not like having shit in her underwear. There was of course no way of concealing her crime, with her hemline by now practically on a level with the waistband of her sagging panties.
Emma, who was standing in front of Lara, now stepped forward and took her place at the rail, and next to her was a space, newly vacated by a man who had just received his wine. Taking a deep breath, which caused both nipples to rise above her neckline, she stepped forward and took her own place at the rail.
By this point, everybody in the church was either staring at her or being nudged by someone who was. Nobody, however, said a word, not even the vicar, who sniffed the air and then looked daggers at Lara as she handed her the wine cup.
Having taken their communion, Lara and her daughters got up and returned to the back of the church, followed by a hundred shocked faces and indignant murmurs. As Lara reached their pew, Emma whispered, “You’re surely not going to sit down, are you?”
“Indeed I am,” said Lara, and she sat down slowly in her place, her shit squishing everywhere – along her gusset, out of her legbands, out of her waistband at the back … she trembled in orgasm as a squishy lump slid over her clitoris.
Poppy giggled, then, after concentrating for a moment, she arched her back as her own panties filled to capacity and overflowed. Since she was still standing in the aisle, everyone on the other side of the aisle could see her panties ballooning outwards, and the lumps of shit that escaped out of the sides. Then she stepped past her mother and sat down in her own spot, uttering a little orgasmic squeal as her shit spread out beneath her.
Well this is it, thought Emma to herself, any moment now we’ll be kicked out of here in disgrace. Might as well make the most of it…
She stepped up on to the pew bench, turned her back on the rest of the congregation, spread her feet apart, lifted her skirt up around her waist, and pushed. Almost immediately her anus expanded and she felt the soft, warm caress of her shit as it thundered into her panties. Amazingly, before any of it had reached her pussy she found herself shuddering in orgasm, and her knees buckled involuntarily. Recovering quickly, she straightened up and sighed with pleasure as her panties filled up in the back, and a tongue of shit slithered forward, bringing her to another orgasm as it licked her clitoris. The front of her panties began to fill out, while at the back several soft lumps escaped and dropped to the floor behind her, or landed with a splat on the bench between her feet.
Then it was over, and she quickly turned around, stepped down to the floor, and sat down with a quiet moan of pleasure. Only then did she dare to look up and see if anyone was watching.
Everyone was watching, of course. For several seconds there was a stunned silence, and a sea of open mouths and wide eyes. Then Lara’s friend Jilly got to her feet. “I can hardly believe my eyes!” she exclaimed.
Here it comes, thought Emma, bracing herself.
“What an incredible display of determination, and loyalty,” continued Jilly. “As hard as it must have been for our friend Lara to come to church dressed in a manner we know she despises, that was, I am sure, insignificant compared with the humiliation and embarrassment she must be feeling as a result of having done what we just saw her do. Whatever she did to warrant such a debasing penance, I do not know and do not want to know, but I am personally deeply humbled and impressed by the lengths to which Lara has gone in order to assuage her guilt. I am also impressed, and very touched, by the devotion shown to her by her daughters, Emma and Poppy, who not only have shown no embarrassment at being seen with their mother like this, but have gone the extra mile and shared in her humiliation. Lara, Emma, Poppy … I applaud you.”
To the amazement of Lara and the two girls, Jilly started to clap her hands, slowly at first, and then, as others joined in, the applause increased in pace and volume until the entire congregation was on its feet, clapping and cheering. When it finally died down, Lara got to her feet, tears in her eyes.
“I am deeply moved by your support,” she said. “Thank you, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.”
The vicar, Sienna Hardwicke, now raised her own voice. “Lara, I would like to express my own support, though personally I would be most interested to hear what kind of transgression warranted this kind of penance. I could wish you had chosen some other method of easing your conscience, but nevertheless I am encouraged by the solidarity shown by your daughters. I trust that you and they will remove from my church the evidence of your penance before the day is out.”
“We will, of course,” replied Lara.
“There are some cleaning supplies in the vestry,” said the vicar. “And now, hymn number four hundred and seventy-three – If You Love Jesus, Crap Your … I beg your pardon, Clap Your Hands.”
******************
Back at home, they found Grant awaiting them. He gathered them together in the living room, then said, “Okay. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. It seems there are three options open to me. The first is to move out. The second is as follows.” He took a deep breath, then paused, sniffing the air. “Did one of you have an accident at church?”
“Actually we all did,” said Lara, “but it’s okay – they were all very nice about it.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask for details…”
“Probably not,” said Lara. “Please go on. Option two?”
“Oh yes. Option two: I stay, and we institute some ground rules.”
“What kind of rules?” asked Emma.
“First, that your mother has no more ‘accidents’ in bed. That’s not fair to me, and it’s unhygienic. If you can’t control your bowels while asleep, Lara, you should wear adult nappies, or incontinence panties, or whatever you want to call them. I don’t want to roll over in bed of a morning and find myself covered in poo.”
Lara nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
“Second, that all three of you keep your messes to certain designated areas – those being the girls’ rooms, the upstairs bathroom, and outdoors. I’m happy to use just the downstairs bathroom.”
“That’s fair,” said Emma.
“Third, that you don’t do anything to compromise my reputation in the community. Aside from being respected in the church, I’m a spokesman for the Royal Agricultural Society. I don’t want my name tarnished. So you are to keep your activities private. That means no more ‘accidents’ in school for you girls, and no more in church for any of you.”
“Hmm,” said Lara. “That could be tricky.”
“Fourth,” said Grant, “if you go anywhere with me, you dress decently. If there’s a chance you’ll have an accident, you are to wear incontinence panties.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m sure there will be other rules, but you get the idea.”
“Wait – is this still option two?” asked Poppy.
“Yes,” said Grant.
“So what’s option three?” asked Lara.
Grant smiled grimly. “Option three: I let you do whatever you want, whenever and wherever you want. You can make a mess anywhere in the house, strip off in public, rub shit all over yourself in the supermarket – whatever.”
“I’m liking option three!” said Poppy to Emma.
“On one condition!” said Grant firmly.
“And what’s that?” asked Lara.
“That in return, you indulge my fantasies,” said Grant. “I do have a few, you know, and I’ve never shared them with you, Lara, because I felt sure you would never go for them. Now, however, things have changed.”
“Yes they have,” agreed Lara. “What sort of fantasies did you have in mind? And am I alone to fulfil them, or do you want to involve the girls as well?”
“Just you!” said Grant vehemently. “Unlike you I am not into incest or child abuse.”
“Hey, steady on Dad!” protested Emma. “We’re not children!”
“You’re still at school – that makes you a child in my eyes. Ten years ago, you’d have both been children in the law’s eyes too.”
“What fantasies?” pressed Lara.
“Oh. Well, um, I’d rather not discuss them in front of the childr… er, Emma and Poppy,” said Grant.
“Go on upstairs, girls,” said Lara.
“Oh Mum!” objected Poppy, but Emma got to her feet and pulled Poppy after her.
Upstairs, they tried to hear what their parents were talking about, but they could not – Lara and Grant were keeping their voices low. After twenty minutes, Lara came upstairs to find them.
“Well?” asked Emma anxiously.
“It’s option three,” said Lara.
Poppy whooped and threw her arms around Emma. Then both girls hugged Lara.
“So, what will you have to do?” asked Emma.
Lara smiled. “Your father apparently likes bondage,” she said. “He wants to tie me up and do nasty things to me.”
Both girls looked a little worried about this. “Um, what kind of nasty things?” inquired Emma.
Lara looked uncomfortable. “Well, nothing painful – not like whipping or anything like that. But … he wants to let spiders and cockroaches and other creepy things crawl over me. In fact he wants to put some of them inside me.”
Poppy and Emma looked at each other guiltily. “Er, Mum,” said Emma. “We kind of have a confession to make. Last night, when we injected your cunt with shit … there were some maggots in it.”
“Yes, I know,” said Lara casually. “I found some of them this morning in my panties.”
“Oh!” said Emma in surprise. “And you weren’t freaked out?”
“A little,” confessed Lara. “But then I discovered that the sheer horror of it was actually making me kind of … horny.” She smiled. “I put them back inside me. So maybe I’ll be okay with the bugs and the spiders and whatever else your dad wants to put on me, or in me.”
“Good for you, Mum!” said Emma proudly. Then something occurred to her. “Um, is Dad no longer concerned about his reputation and all that? I mean, if he’s allowing us to make a spectacle of ourselves anywhere we like?”
“Oh, he’s concerned,” said Lara. “But the loss of his reputation would hardly mean our financial ruin – we’re pretty well set, whatever happens. Of course he’d hate to lose his standing in the community, but for him the prospect of seeing me squirming under a seething mass of earthworms would apparently make it all worthwhile.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’d better get on with lunch. You two go and do your chores.”
“Aww Mum!” Poppy pouted.
“Wearing just your messy panties,” added Lara with a wink.
Both girls giggled. “Okay!” said Poppy. She and Emma quickly stripped off everything but their panties, and then they skipped downstairs and ran outside, the bulges in their panties bouncing up and down and slapping their buttocks with each step.
******************
After lunch, which Emma and Poppy ate while still wearing nothing but their messy panties, Emma got a phone call. She popped open her cell and smiled when she saw Rosie’s avatar. The two girls had got along very well during their rehearsal the day before, and they had exchanged numbers. Pressing the pickup button, she watched as the screen expanded and Rosie’s image swam into view. Almost immediately she put her hands to her cheeks in shock.
“Good heavens, are you naked?” asked Rosie.
“Nearly,” said Emma cheerfully. She pointed the phone downwards a bit so Rosie could see her panties.
“Oh my God! And are they…”
“Yes, I crapped in them again,” said Emma, blushing slightly.
“Me too!” said Rosie naughtily, and she giggled. Then she lifted the back of her dress and turned so that Emma could see her bulging white panties. Then she quickly dropped her dress and turned back. “After your description of the effects yesterday,” she said, “I just had to try Brantasia for myself. Isn’t it amazing?”
“It is,” agreed Emma. “But I think you should know – I record all my calls.”
Rosie gasped in horror. “Oh my! You wouldn’t … show this to anyone, would you?”
Emma laughed. “Relax! Your secret’s safe with me. And Poppy – you don’t mind if I show her, do you?”
“I guess not,” said Rosie. She giggled again. “Now we just have to persuade Chloe to try Brantasia, and all four of us will be into it!”
Emma laughed. “That would be cool!” she said. “Maybe we could call our band ‘The Panty Poopers’!”
Rosie nodded excitedly. “So what else have you been up to?”
“What, besides shitting in our panties in church this morning?”
Rosie gasped. “You didn’t!”
“We did – all three of us, Mum included.”
“Your Mum’s into this too??”
Emma nodded. “Yes, she’s turning into quite the shit-slut. You should have seen the dress she wore to church. Her boobs kept falling out.”
Rosie giggled. “I wish I could have been there!”
“Hey, why don’t you come over?” suggested Emma. “You’re only half an hour away, right?”
“I’d love to, but I don’t think I could persuade my parents to bring me, and the public transport round here is pretty crappy.”
“Another time then,” said Emma. “But speaking of your parents, aren’t you worried they’ll discover you’ve got a load of shit in your panties?”
Rosie grinned. “I’m supposed to be studying. I asked them not to disturb me for the rest of the afternoon.”
Emma smiled. “So if I asked you to take off your dress, would you do it?”
Rosie blushed. “Now why would you ask me to do that?”
“Because ever since I saw your lovely boob yesterday, I’ve wanted to see more,” said Emma.
Rosie hung her head shyly. “Does this mean you’re a … a lesbian?”
“Yes,” said Emma. “Does that bother you?”
“No – not at all,” said Rosie. “They do say that more than fifty percent of girls have had a lesbian experience by the time they reach eighteen.”
“Really?” said Emma. “Wow – I wouldn’t have guessed it was that many. So – do you fall in that fifty percent?”
Rosie smiled and nodded. “And I have to say,” she said, rather coyly, “your breasts are much nicer than mine. I think they’re beautiful.”
“Well they’re certainly … huge,” said Emma, a little embarrassed, but pleased all the same. “Personally I’m more attracted to smaller breasts – like yours.”
“Then we appear to be made for each other,” said Rosie, batting her eyelashes attractively. Both girls laughed.
“All right, so how about this,” said Emma. “Next time we meet, I’ll let you suck on my boobs if you let me suck on yours.”
“Deal,” said Rosie, her eyes shining.
“Cool!” said Emma. “Um, Poppy might be a little jealous though. Would you consider letting her suck on your breasts too?”
“Oh! Um…” Rosie seemed a little taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged. “Sure – she’s a lovely girl.”
“Good. So now that we’ve got that settled,” said Emma, “how about showing me those lovely boobs of yours?”
Rosie smiled, then she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the floor. Unhooking her bra at the back, she slipped it off her shoulders and dropped it on the bed behind her. Standing shyly with her hands clasped together in front of her panties, her upper arms squeezing her breasts together, she looked positively gorgeous.
“God Rosie, you look good enough to eat!” said Emma. “I can’t wait to see you on Tuesday evening.”
“Me too,” said Rosie. “You know – has it occurred to you that perhaps we’re not really the kind of girls Terry had in mind for this girl band? I mean, don’t you think we’ll feel a bit hypocritical singing about purity and abstinence and innocence and all that?”
“Perhaps,” said Emma with a grin. “But I for one am going to get a kick out of singing about purity and innocence while my cunt’s full of shit.”
Rosie’s jaw dropped. “Emma!” she said, somewhat shocked. “Have you really … I mean, is that safe?”
“I don’t know,” said Emma. “But it’s fun!”
Rosie looked thoughtful, then she suddenly started in fright. “Someone’s knocking at my door!” she hissed.
“I’ll let you go then,” said Emma. “See you on Tuesday!”
The screen of her cell went black, and shrank down into the body of the phone. She switched it off, then went in search of Poppy.
******************
That evening Lara helped the girls with their outfits for the next day. Since neither Poppy nor Emma felt very much inclined to cover their panties if they did not have to, they had asked her to cut their skirts as short as possible. When Lara had finished, Poppy’s little cotton skirt was merely a three-inch low-slung belt which covered the waistband of her panties but not much else, while Emma’s dress was so drastically reduced in length that it left half an inch of skin between the hem and the top of her panties. One of Poppy’s t-shirts turned into a crop-top so short that it revealed the lower curves of her breasts, and so low-cut that only a narrow string, running almost from one nipple to the other, held it together at the front. And Emma’s dress was given a very wide, deep neckline which covered her nipples but absolutely nothing between them. Neither girl planned to wear a bra. Emma picked out a pair of skimpy panties comprising a small white triangle at the front, a slightly larger triangle at the back, and strings connecting them which tied together at the sides. Poppy’s gauzy pink panties were sheer aside from an opaque gusset, which she carefully unpicked and removed so that her entire pussy would be visible through the transparent material.
After a late supper of Brantasia, the girls climbed into Poppy’s shit-heaped bed, pulled the covers over themselves, and made love until they fell asleep.
******************
The following morning during assembly at school, the headmaster had two new announcements to make. “I have good news and bad news,” he said. “First, the good news: the government is to award a substantial grant this Christmas to the school with the most pregnant girls. This grant would enable us to build a new gym and swimming pool, which as you know we badly need. So during this final week of term I want every girl of fourteen or over to have as much sex as possible, to ensure that you become pregnant before the holidays.
“The second piece of news is a little more grim,” he continued. “The government passed legislation this weekend which makes it much harder for the courts to convict a man accused of rape. The new law states that no man can be convicted of rape unless the victim’s account is corroborated by four male witnesses. Even then, if the accused man – or boy – claims that the victim consented beforehand, his word will be taken over the girl’s. And even if he admits his guilt, if witnesses testify that the victim was acting in a sexually provocative manner, or was wearing sexually enticing clothing, the accused can only be convicted of a lesser charge of Unwelcome Intercourse, which carries a penalty of three days in prison or a five-hundred pound fine. If it is his first offence, he may even get off with a warning.
“The upshot of all this,” he said, “is that the police are unlikely to pursue a complaint of rape, or bother to make an arrest for this crime. All you girls should therefore consider yourselves warned – don’t travel alone, and if you are raped…” He took a deep breath. “Try to enjoy it, because there’s very little point in complaining about it. That may sound harsh, but those are the facts. I should add, however, that any instances of rape in this school will be severely dealt with – I may not be able to press criminal charges but I shall ensure that any rapists among my boys are expelled immediately.
His expression turned less grave. “On a lighter note, since we’re encouraging our girls to have as much sex as possible, for this week only I will permit pupils to have sex anywhere in the school, as long as it is between lessons and not during. And in order to give you more time, I am reducing the length of all of this week’s lessons to half an hour, so you have fifteen minutes between lessons in which to have sex if you wish.
He smiled tightly. “And since apparently the girls’ outfits have not hitherto been sexy enough to entice some of the boys, all girls of fourteen or over are now forbidden to wear skirts, tops, shoes or socks. It’s bras and panties only – and that’s a maximum. Both items are optional – you may spend the week naked if you wish.”
Astonished murmurs rippled through the assembled pupils. “And for tomorrow’s swimming sports,” added the headmaster, “girls of fourteen or over may not wear swimsuits. A pair of panties is all I’ll allow – and even that is optional. That is all – have a good day.”
“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed Helen to Emma as they walked to their lockers. “The government’s gone mad!”
Emma shrugged. “You know, this time last week I think I’d have been a lot more bothered about this. But now I find I’m actually liking the idea of having to be nearly naked.”
“Well I guess I don’t mind, exactly,” said Helen. “It’s just … surprising.”
They reached their lockers and stripped off their outer clothes. Emma, who was not wearing a bra, was left in just her tie-sided panties, while Helen retained both her blue bra and her white panties. Looking around, they saw that most girls had opted to wear a bra and panties, but there were a few completely naked girls by the time they all dispersed to their first lesson of the day.
Emma was about to reach the physics classroom when she found herself grabbed and pinned against the wall by a tall seventeen-year-old boy named Steven. She had never liked him – he was fond of bullying smaller boys and he frequently made lecherous comments about the girls.
“God I love your tits, Emma,” he said, grabbing hold of them with his hands. “They’re so big and … juicy.” He pinched her nipples hard, and twisted them between his fingers.
“Ow!” said Emma, trying to push him away. “Stop that, Steven! It hurts!”
“Good,” he said with a nasty grin. He let go with one hand, which he shoved down inside the front of her panties. He pushed one finger inside her cunt. “Now, if I fuck you, are you going to cry rape?”
“Yes!” said Emma, suddenly frightened. “Take your filthy finger out of me, you arsehole!”
“Hey, leave her alone,” said another boy.
“Piss off, Robbie,” snarled Steven.
Robbie shrugged and headed off to his lesson, leaving Steven and Emma alone in the corridor. Steven grinned and pushed Emma down to the floor, where he held her down with one hand while he unzipped his trousers. At that moment Mrs Camberwick, one of the music teachers, came trotting down the corridor. She stopped when she saw Steven and Emma.
“Shouldn’t you two be getting to class?” she asked.
“Help!” said Emma. “He’s trying to rape me!”
“I’m not!” said Steven. “She’s only saying that because she’s embarrassed to be caught. She wants it really.” He took out his penis and started rubbing it against Emma’s panties.
“That’s not true!” cried Emma. “He’s really trying to rape me!”
“Well, dear,” said Mrs Camberwick, peering at Emma over the top of her glasses, “you should really let him do his thing. You want to get pregnant, don’t you?”
“No!” said Emma. “At least not by him!” She managed to free one hand, which she used to punch Steven hard in the temple.
“Damn!” said Steven, annoyed. He dealt Emma a resounding slap across the cheek. “Bitch!”
“Would you like me to hold her down?” asked Mrs Camberwick.
Steven grinned. “Yeah – you do that,” he said.
“What? Are you crazy?” demanded Emma, distraught. Next thing she knew, her arms were pulled out behind her head and her wrists were held down against the floor by Mrs Camberwick’s hands.
Steven laughed and grasped the ties at the sides of Emma’s panties. He started to pull on them, gradually reducing the size of the loops. Emma, her legs trapped beneath his shins, was powerless to stop him, and could only watch helplessly.
But then fate intervened. Her bowels gave a sudden lurch, and then a torrent of shit poured into the back of her panties, causing her to sigh involuntarily with pleasure, despite her predicament. Quickly the skimpy panties filled up, and shit began to splurge out of the sides and on to the hard tiled floor.
“Ugh, gross!” exclaimed Steven in disgust. “I can’t believe you just did that!” Recoiling from the oozing excrement, he got to his feet and marched off, fastening his fly as he went.
Mrs Camberwick let go of Emma’s wrists. “That was a nasty trick,” she said.
“Fuck you!” said Emma, carefully getting to her feet. She slapped the music teacher hard across the face. “You evil bitch – you were helping him to rape me!”
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