Banana poop smeared in public toilet

page views:1 Publication date:2023-06-11 14:15:38

Around 9 PM, carrying shopping bags, I left the supermarket and headed towards the community square in my neighborhood. This community
is old and quite large; although surrounded by a wall, it's essentially an open community.
The residential buildings are spaced far apart, and trees line both sides of the roads—trees that are nearly thirty years old and four
or five stories tall. The surrounding greenery is excellent, with a kindergarten and a large community activity
square divided into several areas by a plant-covered pergola.

Passing a two-story building, I saw that several shops and food stalls used to be located here, but now most are vacant.
Several gender-neutral toilets have been added to the side facing the square. Hidden by the trees and
plants , the streetlights barely reach this area. I sat on the low railing of the pergola not far away and
pulled a bag of jelly from my shopping bag. My thumb mechanically scrolled through my phone's screen, my neck instinctively hunching over. I pressed
the straw of the jelly to my lower lip and looked around. Aside from a few young women returning home from overtime
, I was the only one sitting there, pondering something.

I canceled my plans to go out with my family, which meant I'd have two days to myself at home. I was going to use
this rare opportunity to reward (or punish) myself for upgrading to level five.

It was the morning after the Spring Festival holiday, and the weather in the south, which hadn't been affected by cold air for a long time,
was cool. Although I'd woken up early, I was still snuggled in bed, because getting out of bed meant being
stripped of my personality, left naked, and subjected to discipline, becoming a perverted and degrading sex toy. I took off my pajamas and,
through my underwear, thoroughly caressed my genitals. After getting out of bed, I wasn't allowed to touch them freely. Thinking about
today plans, my underwear gradually became damp.

I crawled out of bed, locked the front door, and organized the materials I'd bought from the supermarket yesterday, along with other household
items also carefully wiped down anything that might be needed with disinfectant alcohol, getting ready.
Although the most important plan was for tonight, I couldn't waste a day.

First, I needed to clean the toilet and my intestines. I leaned over the toilet seat and used an enema syringe to pour warm water from a basin
into my anus. The enema syringe was the same kind with a ball-shaped drain tube used for draining large tea trays on coffee tables.
I usually kept the ball in my pencil case; it looked a lot like a cleaning inflatable ball. I'd removed the two sections of the tube and hidden them with
my swimsuit . I adjusted my position, wet the toilet with the showerhead, and, holding the toilet brush, used one hand to squeeze the ball
and the other to scrub the toilet.

Slowly, I suddenly felt a warm current coursing through my abdomen,
followed by pain. A moment of dizziness
washed over me; it felt as if a ball was squeezing my hand, while the toilet was scrubbing it. My grip on the ball loosened, my body trembling. I pulled out the tube, my middle finger immediately plugging it back in. My right hand still
held the brush handle, my kneeling legs no longer able to support my buttocks, inching apart
until they pressed against the cold floor, squeezing my left hand. My stomach growled, like a monster impatiently
pounding against my bottom. I stretched out my right leg, bracing myself against the toilet seat, struggling to stand up—I couldn't hold it in any longer. I turned
, my thighs pressed against the toilet rim, every muscle in my body contracting, completely out of control. A low
, resounding "thud" interrupted the continuous "squeaking" sounds, creating a cacophony of noises. I groaned
, gasping for breath, a hissing sound from my nose and mouth jolting my diaphragm, causing all the muscles in my body to tense
up , the performance abruptly stopping—then starting again.

Turning around, I saw blackish-yellow fecal water splashed all over the toilet bowl, the bottom splattered with broken pieces of excrement—a horrible
sight. Suddenly, I remembered those photos of older women covered in feces on the forum, and my vaginal fluid
dripped down. I knelt before a basin of foul-smelling feces, becoming excited. My left hand pinched my nipple, while my right hand slapped my buttocks with
a slipper .

Then I did two more deep enemas and a few shallow ones, checking if the stool was clean
. Seeing that the water quality finally met the standards, I sprayed detergent on the toilet, stuck the toilet brush into my buttocks, and vigorously
scrubbed it... After cleaning the toilet, I took a disposable tablecloth, laid it inside the toilet bowl, pressing the deepest
part down to cover the bottom of the bowl, and used the toilet seat to weigh down the excess tablecloth around the edges. This way,
my urine wouldn't be flushed after my morning bowel movement.

After leaving the toilet, I picked two of the largest cherry tomatoes I'd bought, drank some water, licked them wet, and held them
under my buttocks, carefully squeezing them in with a twisting motion. When they weren't wet enough, I'd pull them back and lick them again—

controlling my sphincter muscles, as if resisting, yet also willingly yielding. The cherry tomato seemed to enjoy teasing
me, refusing to go in for a long time. Although my sphincter muscles were holding it in, it felt like I was being pinned against
a cold, hard wall. Suddenly it turned and left. I wanted to reach out and stop it, but it vanished
the instant .

Then I carefully peeled a banana, peeling the whole thing off the skin. With my saliva, I
gently scraped the slightly harder end against my teeth, slowly lowering it into my throat. Of course, I couldn't eat the banana now. I spat the scraped-off
banana pulp onto my hand, then smeared it into my buttocks, inserting my fingers to cover the entire opening.
Holding , I squatted down, welcoming it with the most devoted posture, slowly pushing it inside. The banana rubbed against me, like
the smoothest kind of poop—neither too runny nor too hard. My buttocks tried hard to maintain the muscle
tension , and my hands moved with extreme care to prevent the banana from breaking or crumbling. My buttocks were no longer as autonomous as usual,
as if the ability to defecate had been taken away. The harder I tried to "poop," the more poop appeared in my buttocks.
Until the very last little end was broken and crushed, banana pulp still clung to his bottom, like a messy
mouth after a ravenous gulp. He used his fingers to stuff the remaining, still-formed pieces of banana back into his bottom, the banana pulp lubricating
the and outside. He smeared the banana pulp on his buttocks; the dirty little slave's status was now
even lower than toilet paper!

He drank some water, ate an apple, eating it cleanly, carefully nibbling away the peel around the stem,
and sharpening the apple core at the bottom to form a plug. He put on a condom, forcefully smoothing the protrusion on the core's surface
. The rough surface of the apple core was very stimulating to his bottom (inserting an apple core plug requires careful handling,
a condom, and proper lubrication), and the entire apple core was now firmly wedged into his bottom, held
in place .

A fruit stem peeked out from between my buttocks, making my bottom look like a giant apple.

At noon, although my little bottom ate another big banana, the stimulation from the apple-shaped plug prevented me from
feeling the urge to urinate, which had been building up all morning, gradually intensified. I lay on the floor, my bottom sticking up, eating
a sandwich. Trying to bite the pointed corners without using my hands was relatively easy, but it became increasingly difficult as I ate, and
it was hard to swallow while lying down. Just eating so intently made me forget everything else.

In the afternoon, I put my treasured pornographic films on the TV, slumped on the floor in front of the coffee table, legs spread wide,
my genitals exposed. The apple cores that were used to plug my butt with three and a half bananas were replaced with a king oyster mushroom.
I used a data cable to thin the bottom edge of the mushroom cap, about two fingers' width, inside the condom, making it
roughly the shape of a plug (king oyster mushrooms have some elasticity, but they're easily cut, so you can't
use anything too thin to tighten them, and actually, you can't tighten them too much; they wouldn't be very tight as a plug,
but that's okay...). My genitals were a mess, gripping the mushroom cap, relentlessly assaulting my bottom. With another
king oyster mushroom in my mouth, my saliva was piling up. My bladder was bulging, and a small
mound swelled in my lower abdomen. On the screen, a swaying older woman, trembling, gripped the toilet door handle; suddenly, her crotch
was wet, the water spreading—she had lost control of her bladder. My body also suddenly trembled, and I urinated.
I groaned, my fingers immediately pressing down, my thighs squeezing together, barely able to hold my pee
.

I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't straighten. With each step, my body shuddered, releasing
a few drops of urine, and my penis slid down against me. Toilet! Toilet! I'd almost forgotten how to walk.
Suddenly, my buttocks gave way, and my penis slid out! Startled, I twisted my body, almost bursting into tears
. I shuddered, spilling urine all over the floor, finally reaching the toilet. As soon as I poked my buttocks out, "
squeak squeak " urine splattered onto the toilet bowl, followed by a banana-shaped piece of pee.

A sharp pain shot through my genitals, then a strange, pleasurable sensation. But once it was over, it was hard to collect the urine.
I steeled myself, pinching my nipples to stop the flow.

After urinating, I finally regained some energy. I took some flour and kneaded a dough.
You can use dough to make all sorts of plugs—it would be much easier if I had plug molds. You can add
some salt when kneading the dough; I heard it makes it more elastic. I used over 200 ml of flour, divided the dough into 5 portions, and
made a regular-shaped plug, a gourd-shaped stick, and a strangely shaped bead.
I also found some soybeans and mung beans and embedded them in the dough to make a very bizarre plug and a scary
stick. I put the finished products in the microwave for a while, testing every half minute to harden
the dough Be careful not to overheat it or it will burn. The dough will expand after microwaving, so when shaping the dough, make
the pieces a little smaller, otherwise, if they expand too much, my little bottom won't be able to handle it.

To keep warm, I drank a lot of hot water in the afternoon and also did a lot of exercise, but with my
swollen lower abdomen and full bottom, the movements became difficult. This gave me a reason to punish myself, and so my buttocks suffered terrible abuse
that afternoon . To increase the shame of the spanking, I put
on a cute pair of underwear, deliberately exposing my buttocks, and used a bamboo knitting needle to
whip my buttocks back and forth to the rhythm of the slapping scenes in adult films. I couldn't help but wet my underwear.

The punishment continued until dinner time. I took out the ingredients for my dinner, which I had cooked and cooled in the afternoon,
including meatballs, crab sticks, and sausages, as well as some other things that didn't need cooking. Besides the ingredients
, I also prepared a treasured hardcore film for this dinner, intending to
do the final touches on the floor next to the TV.

On the screen, a woman wearing a black silk nightgown and red high heels, the black silk straps extending into
her short skirt, revealed half of her ample buttocks, her fleshy buttocks forming a deep cleft. I,
wearing white stilettos, squatted awkwardly on two slices of toast, my
buttocks swaying back and forth, the banana inside me pooping on the bread. I shifted my body, pressing other
ingredients under my buttocks, and stuffed them in with a dough stick; the camera panned across my black stockings as I quickly stuffed
and pulled the ingredients in, as if playing with a carefully designed string of beads—some granular, some strip-shaped,
some crumbly—and soon a "mountain of poop" piled up on the bread.

I mimicked the older woman, using the stiletto heels of my shoes to knead and twist the things on the ground. The TV screen shifted, and a young woman in a pink
dress was pulled into the frame. The older sister held the younger sister's legs, making her
urinate on the food. Then she lifted the younger sister's pink skirt and pushed her down onto the ground. At that moment, I
also sat down, a sharp pain shooting through my red, swollen buttocks from the afternoon's beating. Stimulated by this, I jumped
even harder, mashing the food into an even bigger mess. I saw the younger sister pushed to the ground, helplessly having
her face smeared with a smear of food by the older sister, before the older sister straddled her face. I picked up
the flattened bread from the ground, grabbed a handful of food poop, and smeared it between my legs. My genitals, wet all day, finally
received some attention. I twisted my waist back and forth, rubbing my dinner hard against the ground.
The younger sister groaned and gasped. The older sister stood up, took off her underwear, and lightly touched her fleshy buttocks with her delicate manicured nails.
A dark red chrysanthemum was then slowly covered on the younger sister's face. The young woman
took a deep breath in front of the older woman's anus, then was buried in the older woman's cleft. Suffocating and panting, the young woman twisted
her body, kicking off her high heels.

Staring at the older woman's two plump buttocks, the young woman's face was completely submerged in the middle, making her look so
petite . I was mesmerized. Turning my head, I buried myself in the pile of food poop I had made. Hearing
the older woman urinating from the TV, I finally opened my mouth for the next piece. Accompanied by the young woman's cough,
I had a mouthful of food poop in my mouth, but it tasted cold and indescribable. I couldn't help but gag,
trying hard not to spit it out, and chewed diligently. Looking at the young woman's lips, I tried to gently kiss the older woman's
labia , chewing diligently. I saw the older woman slightly...

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Banana poop smeared in public toilet

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