Spike couldn’t remember why it was he’d become a toilet. From what he could recall, he’d just been sitting there one day, when Twilight had walked up and said something about trying a new transformation spell. Then there was a blaze of white light, and Spike had found, quite to his dismay, that he was no longer shaped like a dragon. He still had his tongue, his eyes, a row of green spines along the back, and his usual purple hue. But for all intents and purposes, he was now a toilet.
It was all the more distressing that Twilight hadn’t even tried to turn him back, but no matter. She seemed to like him better that way.
In fact, many ponies marveled over how smooth he looked like this, and Rarity pronounced with confidence that he was the handsomest toilet she’d ever seen. Of course, it would take him becoming a toilet for Rarity to call him handsome.
Ponies would occasionally sit on him, and would sometimes jiggle his handle, just for fun. But no one ever dared to put any waste into him at least. He couldn’t tell if it was out of respect or fear, for though he couldn’t talk, he still had a tongue lying in the bottom of his bowl, and the area around it was full of saliva rather than water. He’d tried to speak once or twice, flapping his tongue uselessly at the various pony butts that passed his way, but it was never any use, and he soon gave up.
Truth be told, Spike was quickly adjusting to his place in the world as a toilet. He was more respected now, ponies actually made physical contact with him rather than recoiling in fear and disgust. He no longer had to worry about being a growing dragon, interacting with ponies, or anything of the like. He was simply a very nice looking, admired toilet, set in the castle for all to see.
There were even times, despite his mute, motionless state, that he genuinely enjoyed flushing himself. The way the whirlpool felt in his bowl, the gurgle as it went down…it wasn’t quite like an orgasm, but it was something close. Either way, it was immensely satisfying.
So, it came as a surprise to him when, one day, Twilight came rushing into the chamber where he was installed, and fell down on her horse-knees in front of him. She looked desperate, and he would have asked what was wrong, but he was a toilet, so all he could do was flap his tongue in his saliva bowl quietly.
“Spike!” she said urgently. “Something has gone terribly wrong. We need your help!”
Help from a toilet? The idea sounded a little weird, but it wasn’t like he could protest. Twilight hurried on, sounding more frantic by the minute.
“Sombra turned all the toilets in the land into solid crystal!”
Spike tried to gasp, but flushed himself instead by mistake.
“No ponies have anywhere to go to the bathroom. We can’t go on the ground again, not after The Great E.coli Outbreak a few years ago! In fact, there’s only one toilet he hasn’t gotten to… and that’s you!”
Spike quickly realized that he didn’t like where this was going.
“So, every pony in Ponyville is headed here,” she said, eyes beginning to brim with tears. “They’re desperate, Spike, you have to help us, please!”
How was Spike to refuse a plea like that? No. Really. How was he to refuse? He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything to tell her that he was so not into this. By the way she looked at him, though, it seemed she’d made up her mind for him. Her face creased into a wide grin.
“Oh thank you Spike! I knew you’d understand. You have no idea how much this means to us!”
And without another word, she ran off to fling open the front gates to let all the ponies of the land in. Spike had a sinking feeling in his tank that today was not going to be a good day.
Spike used to believe “The Magic of Friendship” could, and would, solve any problem that could arise. Being Twilight’s assistant for so long had taught him many a friendship lessons, and how they could change the world. But none of her lessons dealt with being a toilet, and suddenly having a line of hundreds, dare he imagine thousands, of ponies waiting to use him. The thought struck him as a horrible thing; ponies wanting to deposit their waste, both solid and liquid, into his awaiting bowl. And yet, the thought of being used by ponies… well, he flushed himself again absentmindedly thinking about it.
Was this… actually what he wanted? To be used like a dirty, economy toilet for the masses to just stain and abuse his porcelain over and over and over again?
If his tongue could have reached the seat, he would have licked it in anticipation.
Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad after all…
The first pony that walked in was none other than Big Macintosh. How the large stallion had gotten to the front of the line, Spike imagined involved lots of violence. The stallion entered the small closet turned impromptu bathroom with only the sound of hoofsteps, quiet taps considering the fact he was so large.
Macintosh stared at Spike. Spike stared at Mac with his non-existent toilet eyes.
“So… uh… I just…?” Macintosh asked.
Spike flicked his tongue on the toilet seat. There was no point in fighting it. Because he couldn’t… he was a toilet.
Macintosh shrugged, and turned around, facing his butt towards Spike’s awaiting bowl. His tank lid began to rattle from nervousness. This was it, this was really happening after all this time. His once bro was about to sit on him and defecate into his “mouth.”
Spike’s seat groaned with protest at Macintosh’s weight, and internally Spike wanted nothing more than to just throw up, but he couldn’t, because now he was like one of them. He was now more of a pony than before, because he couldn't throw up, just like all horses cannot. He couldn’t escape this Hell.
The worst part,was Spike’s toilet eyes were the perfect level to watch as a pony sat, then the right angle to just continue to stare, because he couldn’t turn away or blink. Butts were now his entire vision. All he saw was a red fur coat, golden tail tucked up out of the way, and BIG MAC’S HUGE BUTT HOLE OPENING UP like a hungry, shit-filled mouth.
(Jesus Christ Pencil DON’T MAKE ME DO THIS PLEASE…)
But it would not be allowed, for after two three years and countless liver transplants, this story would, in fact, be finished.
(Even if the author, and Spike, had to die. Of embarrassment. Probably.)
Big Mac’s weight was like nothing Spike had experienced before. Sure, he’d ridden on Twilight’s back countless times, and she never seemed to mind and he hadn’t given it a second thought. The worst he’d had on his own back was one of the Cake twins, wanting to take a ride as he crawled around on his hands and knees weeping like a hairless slavegirl.
This was nothing like that. It wasn’t so much that his body grunted under the weight, but if he could make an apt comparison, it was like he’d been chewing on a jaw breaker for countless hours, and his lower jaw was extended out like an inbred Apple, minus the buck teeth.
Once Mac was settled and comfortable, he let out a sigh as the once puckered butt hole began to expand and open, all in front of Spike’s poor, overly sized ethereal toilet eyes. Then, slowly, a massive, brown, solid turd began to crawl out at a pace that put Snails to shame. If the old expression of cracking the porcelain held any weight, then Big Mac was for sure the one to put it to the test.
Agonizing seconds went by as the massive turd slowly edged its way out, Big Mac’s tail hiked off to the side so none of his short tail hairs would get anything on them. As one inch became two, then three, Spike struggled to shove his tongue off to the side of the bowl, in the vain hopes that it wouldn’t fall directly on the only muscle left on his person. He knew, however, that this struggle was futile. He had a mouth but could not scream.
Then, quickly, with an audible plop in his saliva filled bowl, the turd fell free and into his awaiting mouth, just barely missing his tongue. Spike let out a brief mental sigh, but then to his horror, Big Mac’s butt hole began to expand once again and the pony let out a groan of pained relief. The stallion wasn’t done, and if his size was any indication… this would be a long session with his once best friend.
After watching, disgustingly mesmerized by the second turd, Spike realized the splash sent the first turd towards his still cowering tongue. A sensation of solid hitting the muscle sent him into a frenzy of panic, but with the only option being flush, he held back. He didn’t even want to think about… ingesting, or whatever it would be, the very idea of a pony’s turd, multiple turds in fact, going down his drain.
The third turd began to show itself, and by this point Spike’s eyes began to water, be it his sadness or Big Mac having succeeded in cracking the porcelain tank, it was anyplumbing’s guess. Well, it was sort of like his eyes were watering, more that the little rim at the top of the bowl where water comes out started to drip. So it was also sort of like salivating. After the third, and forth, there was no fighting it. His tongue couldn’t reach far enough out of the bowl, the underside about to take the brunt of a turd flavored assault on his senses.
There was just no escaping it now. His tongue struggled to stay upward, the muscle screaming to simply lay still and rest. Big Mac showed no signs of stopping, the large earth pony clearly having eaten enough to feed three mares, and excrementing the equivalent.
A puckering, and then expanding, asshole was an interesting sight to see, the more Spike allowed his numbed mind to study the hole. Small at first, with a large ring not unlike a donut, it would suddenly expand at a critical rate, a good two inches or more, to allow the large hunk of waste to easily pass through and exit the intestinal tract. Then it would stretch outward towards him a little, before cutting off the shit log and retreating towards his flanks again, like his anus was trying to give Spike a kiss.
Spike had to wonder, absentmindedly, was what it was to be “loose”, the term he’d heard from stallions after a nightly romp with a mare. Was it that their butt holes were so expanding that they could take in their pee pee’s? He knew stallions had to pee inside of a mare to make a foal, but what if a stallion peed into another stallions butt? Would it… make poop foals? Flattus fillies? Crap colts? He didn’t know, and yet couldn’t stop wondering.
Finally, Spike’s tongue was too tired to remain on the side, and shedding but a single tear, he let the muscle fall into the bowl of spit water mixed with feces in a small splash, no bigger than one of Big Mac’s turds splashes.
Several solids began bumping into his tongue, and sending the strangest, most frightening, tastes he could ever imagine to his senses.
They… weren’t that bad?
Spike blinked, trying to look down into his own bowl, but failing because Big Mac’s massive flanks and backside were in the way, sitting on his lower jaw thing. The taste reminded him of applesauce, if it was warm and still had chunky bits that when chewed, were sour. With his lack of a nose, he couldn’t smell what was being dunked into his awaiting bowl, but with his tongue alone it wasn’t actually the worst thing to happen.
Big Mac let out a contented sigh, and then reached for the massive package of toilet paper left by Twilight, and with a hoof began wiping himself clean. The paper was a whole different story when it reached his tongue. The taste was still there, but the texture was off. Like, having to blow your nose, but a bunch of snot gets stuck to your upper lip so you gotta wipe it off with a tissue, and then run your tongue along it to make sure it’s clean and it has this… “flavor.”
After his last turd, Big Mac’s butt hole had puckered back to its normal state, and looked quite clean, so only two wipes were done before he stepped up from Spike’s seat. The stallion must have been keeping up with his fiber intake.
Big Mac turned to face Spike the Toilet. Spike stared at Big Mac, eyes a misty haze as he looked nowhere specific.
“So, uh… I guess… thanks? Do… do I flush, or…?”
For the first time, Spike was scared to flush himself, and forced his eyes closed harshly. Then, with all that he could muster, he rocked his bowl up and down in a gentle manner, to convey yes, just do it. The water and turds sloshed inside him, bumping the edges like passing ships in the night.
Big Mac silently nodded in return, and placed his hoof on the lever, and pressed it forcefully down.
The orgasmic-like glee of a flush took over Spike’s mind, mixed with the apple sauce flavors and toilet paper textures as everything swirled down and into his piping. It was a feeling like no other, having solids travel downward and through him to who knows where, like he was trying to inhale solid jewels in a hurry before Twilight could catch him having a late night snack.
His tongue began to splash about in the dry bowl, for reasons he didn’t quite know, probably out of sheer toilet instinct. Big Mac watched in fascination and awe.
“Well, uh… thanks, Spike. Sorry fer that, but Granny gets mad when we try to add our own fertilizer in the fields. I’m sure ya understand.”
He didn’t, and quite honestly, didn’t care anymore.
“A’right, take care then, and… good luck, buddy.”
Big Mac raised his hoof to pat the lid of the back tank, hesitated, then pulled away and walked out of the closet.
Spike the Toilet was given a few seconds of calm as he mentally digested what had just physically digested. Maybe that was all the same, maybe metaphorical, he didn’t know anymore.
He had just watched a stallion’s butt hole expand, drop shit into his awaiting mouth, then flush him and leave. The only downside was the idea in itself, but in actuality, the taste wasn’t… bad. The feeling was weird, especially the toilet paper, but it was quickly forgotten once he was flushed. He felt used, so deeply objectified and used, but at the same time… he felt useful because of it. Like he was finally worth something, finally serving a purpose rather than just being background noise. Maybe he could get through this… just maybe if…
Suddenly Rarity stormed into the closet, slamming the door closed.
Oh no...
Oh no.
“Oh no…” Rarity said with widening eyes as she realized the situation. “When Twilight said there was but one toilet left, I didn’t realize-”
Suddenly she was overtaken by stomach cramps, holding her barrel with her hooves as gurgling sounds over took the small closet area. She groaned daintily.
“Oh, of all the times to have had Mexicolt food…” she quickly locked the closet door, then began prancing in place as she looked around.
“Spike, dear, is this… are you…?”
Spike couldn’t speak, but his dejected eyes would have told the mare all she needed to know.
Another gurgle broke the silence, and Rarity looked on painfully.
“Spikey Wikey… I’m…”
Another gurgle, and this time Rarity couldn’t help but cross her rear legs. “Oh no…”
Oh no.
Oh yes…
Spike the toilet closed his eyes, and then shot them open with a look of determination, flopping his tongue around and clacking the toilet seat invitingly.
“What?” Rarity asked.
Spike forced his tongue to slap the toilet seat, licking along the rim to moisten it so it wasn’t so dry in connecting with her flanks.
“O-oh, you’re… you… I can…”
Another suggestive tongue slap, and Rarity gulped.
“Very well, Spikey Wikey. I’m… sorry, dear, for whatever it’s worth.”
If she’d known what Spike had just gone through, she wouldn’t have been as worried. Then again, she was a lady, and knew well enough that Spike had a crush on her. And in this position, her lady parts would be… they would be resting on… it was too much to think about!
But that very idea sent Spike into a clattering fit of his toilet seat as Rarity got closer and closer, her guts churning and rumbling with nausea and gas as it protested, begging for release… into Spike’s awaiting bowl/mouth.
Rarity approached, and hesitantly ran a hoof along the toilet seat. It was oddly warm, be it from Big Mac’s previous sitting, or Spike’s dragontoilet like temperatures acting as a seat warmer, she didn’t know. It was also strangely clean, which looking into the clean bowl and at Spike’s waiting tongue, maybe he’d… cleaned anything off? Just for her?
Rarity gulped, ignoring paragraph repetition in favor of worrying over her favorite assistant, and what she was about to put him through.
Another gurgle, and Rarity knew this was it. Now or never. She forwent words and gently rubbed along his tank, and then turned around. Rarity’s tail was a thing to marvel, the perfect, magnificent curls of purple hair made any stallion that survived to oogle her hard with excitement. Spike found himself always entrapped in it, be that sometimes physically, but always just that. It was her tail, it was part of her. Nothing more.
Then, her tail began to sway to the side, dock hiking upward and forcing her tail to the side to reveal the mare’s goods.
An anus, not unlike Big Mac’s, only more grey colored versus the deep red, which made sense for their coat colors. Not much was different there, but then once you began looking downward…
Missing were the balls of a stallion, instead replaced with a strange looking, almost tear drop shaped, dark slit that was thick around the edges. He’d seen this once or twice before on mares, but didn’t rightfully know what it was.
Maybe mare’s had two butt holes? Or was that… he’d heard of girls having special “fun holes,” could this be it?
“Oh, forgive me Spikey, but I need to…” Rarity seemed lost for what words she wanted, and instead looked away.
And then, from that lower slit, the whole thing seemed to open a little, even revealing the slight sight of a small pink nub like a pencil eraser. And all at once a yellow liquid began rushing out.
Pee. Rarity was... Peeing into his bowl.
Spike was all kinds of confused, but the warm liquid rushing into basically his mouth made his eyes cross as he watched the stream and tried to not think about being made pregnant from a mare’s pee inside him. Surely if it worked one way, it must the other, right? What would dragon/toilet/pony babies even look like anyway?
(Ah, that’s for another story, Rob)
The affair was quick, and the hole returned, hiding the glimpse of the pink nub to it’s sheltered home, as Rarity then took her time in settling down onto Spike’s seat.
“Oooh, Spikey, it’s… warm.”
Spike was a dragon after all, even if he was now a toilet, but that didn’t change his apparent warm bloo-no, not blood, uh… water? Warm watered nature, and so was quite comfortable to the tush when a pony was to sit. Big Mac hadn’t commented on it, but then again, he was used to the farm’s outhouse with a wooden seat, maybe he didn’t need to say anything.
Big Mac spoke more with silence than actual words. He was deep like that.
Rarity’s plush, yet taught, flanks rested firmly onto Spike’s lid, and her tail, hiked and out of the way, rested along the left side of Spike’s upper tank, like it was caressing him. Then, Rarity let out a sigh, and a massive fart came out. Spike watched as her asshole shivered momentarily, and then began to open up, slowly, to-
It was like a grenade going off. No warning, no time to react, as from her asshole liquified shit and small chunks were evicted like shrapnel in a speed that would put Rainbow Dash on laxatives to shame. And, of course, they just went everywhere. For the massive amounts of spray, there was no simple down, but it sprayed left, right, towards the gap where the seat hinges met the bowl, to the front of his bowl. Some even splattered onto his eyes, although a protective porcelain like clear coating kept them from being injured. Remember kids, don’t ruin the finish on your toilet or it’s shitstains for life.
“Oh Celestia!” Rarith shouted, clutching the outer forward part of his bowl as she begged for reprieve, gas releasing between streams of liquified shit.
It simply went everywhere, Spike forgoing the ability to think in order to watch with his broken mind as her puckered asshole just sprayed countless streams of liquified shit and chunks into him. Between clenches, some would go left, then right, then maybe straight down, or wherever it so pleased. Rarity had no control, her swearing was only shadowed by her failed attempts to sing to herself in order to calm down, legs quivering to a mystery beat. Her anys seemed to have a mind of its own.
Her tail was flicking erratically, giving his tank an occasional smack as she struggled to keep her hair from getting in the splash zone. It didn’t work, nor did the singing, only leading to more convulsions and spasms of her anus as she pleaded with Celestia, Luna, and even Faust for a release from this Hell.
Spike was slightly wiser, knowing he was already, in fact, in Hell, and it couldn’t get any worse unless his crush decided to let another stallion pee in her while on top of him or something else kinky like that. He was grateful to not be an uncle to anypony, and wanted it to stay that way, providing he lost his toilet status in a timely manner. Which, at this point, somehow felt like it would never happen.
His eyes were only for her, for the mare he loved, and so, he watched in both attention and horror as her bowels destroyed her anus in a timely manner, explosive chunks going where they deemed fit, liquid spraying out, and heavy, gassy farts filling in the calm moments. His tongue was long forgotten, long since collateral damage, and the taste of used-up burritos and cheese blinding him to the truth of the matter.
Rarity, his crush, was shitting explosive diarrhea into his waiting mouth.
Another lady like scream overtook the mare, as she convulsed and another literal stream of literal shit poured out, smashing against the back of his bowl. Thankful for no sort of gag reflex, Spike continued to take the assault in stride, trying his best to focus on the beautiful shape of Rarity’s flanks against his seat, and that interesting front hole.
And yet, the splattering of anus projected liquids, caused the already bowl filled fluids to splash out, splattering her inner flanks, his toilet seat, and who knew what else.
Several minutes passed, before Rarity, exhausted, sweating, and panting while still sitting, began to finally relax. Her anus, once shooting out pure bile, now remained puckered, done with its duty to make doody and keep the back door closed until further notice.
Spike found himself beyond soiled, both inside and out. Even mentally. Splatters of brown dots littered the upper parts of his bowl, the seat, and more distressing, Rarity’s flanks. The poor mare was still panting, exhausted after exhausting her bowels, but knew well enough the job wasn’t over.
Spike’s tongue, long since soiled, splashed in the liquid shit to wash what it could. The taste was still there, and he wished it was foul so he could wish away this travesty. But this was Rarity, however, the love of his life, the crush he so wished to express himself. In a weird way, she expressed herself quite well enough to him, but he would let that slide for now. This wasn’t her fault, or his own. After all, everybody poops.
Truth be told, Twilight was surely to blame, but for now, he had to put blame aside.
“S-Spikey, I’m… I’m so sorry, I… I need to clean up, now,” Rarity said, her voice almost weeping with shame and anus acid burn pain.
Her magic, faint, exhausted, reached for the toilet paper.
This was it. This was the time to be a true gentleman, Spike had to act.
“WOAH! S-S-Spike! What?”
Spike’s tongue, mostly clean, began to lather, licking and wiping away at Rarity’s flanks, her groin, and even her anus, as he did what any good toilet would do.
Clean that ass.
“S-Spike, please… stop.”
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was what he was now. A thing for ponies to relieve themselves in, and for Rarity, he’d do anything for her. He was here to serve, and if he could be a bidet, then damn it he would. He would clean her, make her feel pretty, even after the horrendous display she’d just given him. He cared for her, about her, and she needed to know this.
His tongue brushed over that lower slit, getting at some of the splatters.
“OOoh…” she moaned.
Strange, but Spike ignored it for now, trying to keep cleaning where needed. Strangely enough, her groin seemed to get wetter as he licked at her, but he was thorough, and didn’t give up until even her front parts felt less slimy. At last, he finished up on Rarity’s rump, and gave her a loving shove to remove her from his seat. She followed along, standing on shaking legs, which allowed Spike the chance to clean the rest of his seat, bowl, and wherever else his tongue could reach.
“Spikey.. That was… that was amazing. I’m so, so happy it was you, and not some other toilet. B-better the toilet you know than the one you don’t, right?”
Finally, Spike, in his excitement, flushed himself. Mostly liquid, save for the few chunks that tumbled by his tongue, rushed down his piping and to who knows where. His tank shuddered from the orgasmic-like fluids traveling down his pipes, because these were special. These were Rarity’s. They were like a part of him now, she was inside him...
Rarity smiled, giving the lid of his tank a small kiss, then exited, tail relaxed and slackened against her clean bung holio and mare bits.
“Oh dear…” Rarity whispered.
She held the door open, and the long, long line of pones made Spike realize… this wasn’t going to be a good day. At least, not by a non-toilet creature’s standards.
Rarity had been one thing, but all these ponies? Could he do it? Really? Would he die? Break into tiny pieces, clog beyond repair? He shuddered, his porcelain clanking as the next mare approached, her stomach swollen with a food baby ready to emerge from her asswomb. Spike was frightened but… something in him also felt steadfast.
Strangely enough, this felt… right. Like he was meant to be shat all over. Like his purpose was to have refuse dumped on him by everypony, over and over again. He couldn’t quite pick out way, but maybe… this was something he was finally, really actually good at. It didn’t seem possible, but, was this his special talent? Would his cutie mark have been a toiled had he been a pony? It felt surreal, like something from Kafka, but this was his life now. And he was going to embrace it with all he was worth.
Spike did his best to straighten up in place, and once more flapped his tongue in its bowl invitingly. No matter how long the line, he would make it through. He would be the best toilet in Equestrian history.
As the sun was setting, Twilight walked into the small closet and looked down at her former dragon assistant with a sympathetic, affectionate smile. The dragon toilet before her trembled all over, lurching in either heavy breaths or dry-heaves, but still unbroken. She reached out and stroked Spike’s tank soothingly, giving a heavy sigh, which she immediately deeply regretted doing in the well-used tightly-enclosed closet space.
“Spike, I’m impressed,” she said earnestly. “You acted as a waste receptacle for all the ponies across the land, and you only got clogged once! It's pretty much a miracle!”
Spike wanted to tell her that the clog had only happened because some stupid mare had tried to flush a horse tampon down him, but he decided not to try. His tongue was exhausted, and even flushing felt like it took all of his willpower to make it happen. He needed to rest.
“Seriously,” she said gently, “You were an amazing toilet. Better than I think anypony else could have done.”
Here she paused, glancing away sheepishly, and he hoof hesitated across his tank. Spike got the sense something serious was happening now, and he did his best to focus, despite feeling like someone had shoved sausages into every hole he could possible have all day.
“You know,” Twilight said haltingly, “I know I promised I’d turn you back into a dragon but… well… you’re kind of a hero now. The hero toilet of Equestria. And I was wondering… Do you really… really want to be a dragon again?”
Spike wanted to say yes. He wanted to SCREAM yes, that he wanted to be a dragon again, why was that even a question?! But even as he wanted to shout that, something else called to him. Maybe it was the soft wet whirr of his tank running, or how cool his porcelain felt after so much action earlier, but he felt… at peace. He felt steady, calm, and he felt like he’d really accomplished something here. Perhaps Twilight was right. Perhaps he was better as a toilet. Perhaps he should stay like this.
After a long moment, Spike raised his tongue, hesitated, then slapped against his saliva water defiantly. Twilight nodded knowingly and smiled.
“Oh good, I was hoping you’d say that,” she said with a sigh. “Besides, I’m not even sure I have the ability to turn you back. So this is all for the best. Anyway, I know you’ve worked hard all day but… what do you say, for old time’s sake?”
If Spike could have smiled, he would have. Instead, he simply licked his seat daintily to give consent, and opened his lid as wide as he could. Twilight gave him one final pat of appreciation, then turned her ass towards his opening, and lowered herself down onto it. Spike closed his eyes, feeling hot natural this seemed, and waited for the inevitable.
“Thanks old friend,” she said with a sigh as her anus began to open, releasing a thin wisp of sulfuric gas, “I had bean dip for lunch, so get ready. It’s going to be a doozy!”
-END-