10:22am Work toilets

Surviving again on salami, energy drink and polo mints, my stomach was shooting hot pain up through my spine and body.

There couldn’t possibly be anything inside to come out, but I felt like an underpants guinness was mere moments from becoming a horrifying reality.

With my butt-cheeks clenched hard enough to crush glass I shyly waddled to the toilet. Inside, and on my own I instantly threw down my trousers and began to evacuate my bowels.

Fizzy and foaming, the watery turd was forced from my anus with great effort and discomfort. It was closer to thick, bloody snot than any turd I had laid before, with a worrying amount of what could only have been mucus.

It was over for now, but I felt certain a sequel would be on its way before the day was out
***

16:11pm Work toilet. Poo the 2nd

It was game time, this one would be a battle, I could tell. The gut agony had faded into the background and had been replaced with the feared red-rectum, the sandpaper sphincter: the curried cornhole.

If it was up to me I would have submerged my rectum in yoghurt all afternoon. But, with work to do, and a sore anus an unacceptable excuse for going home, I was forced to stay.

Needing lube of any kind I spat on my hand and lathered up my tender anus. I gritted my teeth and again began to push.

Nothing. Not even gas, nothing but the straining, desperate noises of my empty intestinal tract turning itself inside out.

Borderline depressed I wiped the sputum from my backside and re-placed my trousers.
*

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