It had been two weeks since Chloe’s humiliating public accident on the steps of the public library across the road from her workplace, and she was no nearer living it down. Her boss and colleagues teased her constantly, which unfortunately caused her work to suffer. Because she was brooding over a fresh tongue-lashing meted out by Rita, her mean supervisor, she forgot to return a phone call to an important client – with the result that the client called Adam, her boss.
Adam called her into his office. “Chloe,” he said, “I know you’re feeling a little put-upon out there, but that’s no excuse for leaving Peter Vandenbergh hanging. He’s a touchy fellow, as you know – he might easily have taken his business elsewhere.”
“I know,” said Chloe miserably. “I’m sorry, Adam – it’s just that it’s hard to concentrate out there, with everyone mocking me about my accident.”
“I’m sure it is,” said Adam, “but let’s face it – you’ve brought that upon yourself. Now I’m not going to fire you, so don’t look so glum, but I need your assurance that this won’t happen again.”
“It won’t, I promise,” said Chloe, hanging her head in shame. “I hate that I’ve disappointed you, Adam – is there any way I can make it up to you?”
“Just do a good job,” replied Adam. Then he smiled. “And wearing shorter skirts wouldn’t hurt.”
Chloe looked up at Adam in astonishment, just as Adam’s smile faded. “I’m sorry!” he said. “That was a stupid thing to say – I sincerely apologise. It was totally inappropriate.”
Chloe felt a warm tingling in her loins. “I already wear the shortest skirts in the office,” she said.
“Yes, I know,” said Adam. “But that’s neither here nor there. Under the company’s sexual harassment code, you are obliged to report my inappropriate remarks to head office. Let me get you the number for Pam in H.R…”
“Oh shut up,” said Chloe abruptly. “I’m not going to report you to anyone. I’m just curious to know why you said it.”
Adam shrugged. “I was attempting to inject a little levity into the moment, to cheer you up a bit. I made a poor choice of subject.”
“But would you really like me to wear shorter skirts?” asked Chloe. The one she was wearing today came down to mid-thigh – longer than her usual summer choices, but since her accident she had been attempting to tone down her wardrobe and draw a little less attention to herself.
“We shouldn’t even be talking about it,” muttered Adam.
“I know,” said Chloe. “But since we are, how short would you like me to go?”
Adam looked torn between his desire for propriety and, well, his desire. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he managed, “Well, you know, whatever you want to wear is fine with me – just as long as it’s neat.”
“Well I have a couple of very short skirts that I’m sure you’ll think are pretty neat,” Chloe said with a grin. She could hardly believe she was being this bold in front of Adam, but his slip had put her in something of a position of power over him – albeit temporarily.
“I think you’d better go back to your desk,” said Adam. “Just … don’t forget to return any more calls, okay?”
“I won’t,” said Chloe.
As she returned to her desk, she felt a pressure building in her bowels. Perhaps tonight would be the night, she thought. She had been holding on to her poo ever since her accident, and each day it had been harder and harder to resist letting it out into her panties. She was very much looking forward to her next accident, but she was determined that it should be a real accident, and so whenever the urge came, she fought against it as hard as she could. So far, that had proved sufficient, but she was hoping that tonight she would lose the battle. Sara had been staying with her parents for a few days, but she was back tomorrow, so tonight would be Chloe’s last chance at pooping in her panties alone in her flat.
Yet as she watched television in her comfy chair that evening, she did not find it all that difficult to keep her poo from coming out. The urge only came upon her once every half-hour or so, and most of the time she could make it go back in before it had even started forcing her anus open.
After she had watched her favourite program, her thoughts turned to her discussion with Adam. Smiling to herself, she went to her wardrobe and pulled out her shortest skirt – a black cotton A-line micro-mini with little red and white floral designs around the bottom two inches or so. Trying it on, she felt the hemline behind her and was amused to discover that it only just covered her buttocks. Five years ago, when she had been a little slimmer, it had covered her better, and she had frequently worn it out to clubs with her friends. It was totally inappropriate for the office, of course, but Adam had asked her to wear shorter skirts … could he really complain if she did? Would he?
She grimaced as her poo began again to press against her anal sphincter. As she struggled to keep it in, for a moment she almost decided to let go and fill her panties, so horny was she becoming at the thought of feeling her poo slide out of her anus and piling up against her buttocks. As her anus reached an inch in diameter, and the rounded end of her poo started to emerge, she realized this would be defeating the purpose of waiting all this time to have a real accident. So she squeezed her buttocks together and forced her anus, little by little, to close up again. The poo slowly retreated, and finally the urge went away. She wiped some perspiration from her brow, and took off her skirt. She would definitely wear it tomorrow, she decided, and damn the consequences. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Adam’s face!
She got ready for bed, and then climbed between the sheets and switched out the lights. As she lay naked except for her panties, she fantasized about what Adam might say and do the next day.
“That skirt is far too short,” he would say sternly. “It’s completely inappropriate for the office. Take it off at once!”
“Yes sir,” she would reply meekly (she always called him ‘sir’ in her fantasies). And she would take it off.
“And that blouse – that’s also totally inappropriate,” Adam would continue.
“Oh dear,” she would sigh, and she would take off her blouse too.
“And your bra – far too racy!” Adam would say.
Chloe reached into her panties and started to rub her clitoris. “Oh yes!” she whispered. “Yes, my bra’s way too sexy for the office – I’ll take that off too, sir!”
“And your panties – talk about skimpy! They’re outrageous! Take them off!”
“Yes sir,” she whispered into the darkness, squeezing her thighs together and gyrating her hips as she fingered her pussy.
“Now look at you – you’re naked! Well you can’t possibly let clients see you this way! You had better spend the day working in my office, where you can have some privacy.”
“As you wish, sir!”
And she would trot, naked (somehow she had lost her shoes too), into Adam’s office. He would follow after her and close the door. “Now,” he would say sternly. “I only have one chair, and I need it for myself, so you’ll just have to lie on my desk.”
So she would climb on to Adam’s desk and lie down on her back, with her pussy at the front of the desk and her feet resting on Adam’s chair.
“That’s no good,” Adam would say. “I need to be able to sit down. Draw your legs up.”
She would lift her legs, bending them at the knee, so that Adam would now have an unobstructed view of her pussy, right in front of him as he sat in his chair.
“I can’t see my monitor with your feet there,” he would say. “Spread your legs – nice and wide. That’s better.”
Her legs wide apart, she would then start to push, grunting as a large poo began to emerge … no, wait – where did that come from???
It was an exciting thought, however. She moaned with pleasure as she imagined herself pooping in front of Adam. But something was wrong – she was not wearing panties. Quickly she backtracked her fantasy and amended it so that Adam only made her strip to her panties. So there she was, lying on his desk, wearing just her panties, and she began to poo…
Chloe gasped and moaned loudly, writhing between her sheets as she pictured her panties filling up with poo right before Adam’s eyes. What would he do about it, though…? Possibilities raced through her mind. One in particular she found very exciting.
“How dare you poop in your panties in my office!” he would say sternly. “You’re a grown woman! A woman of your age shouldn’t be messing herself in such a disgusting manner!”
“I’m sorry sir,” she would say timidly.
“If you’re sorry, why are you still pooping?” he would demand.
“It … it feels so nice!” she would say.
“Well I think you need to be taught a lesson. You need to be made an example of! Get off my desk and come with me.”
Nervously, she would climb off his desk, taking care not to squish the poo, and then she would follow him out into the main part of the office, where her colleagues and supervisor were all staring at her.
“Turn around!” Adam would say. “Show everyone what a disgusting girl you are.”
So she would turn around and continue pooping her panties, right in front of everyone…
Chloe cried out in orgasmic delight as her entire body throbbed with pleasure. She panted heavily for a while, then, as her excitement faded, she gradually drifted off into sleep.
*******************************
The next morning, as she was fighting back another, very determined effort by her poo to emerge from the dark recesses of her rectum, Chloe looked through her underwear drawer, trying to decide what panties to wear today. At first, feeling naughty, she pulled out her favourite pink thong, thinking that she might ‘accidentally’ bend over in front of Adam and show him her bottom. But then it occurred to her that there was a chance she might have another kind of accident before she got home tonight, and a thong in that case would be disastrous.
So then she pulled out her biggest, comfiest pair of panties – full-cut in the buttock, but reasonably low-waisted so they did not look too granny-ish. These would be perfect for pooping in. But then she thought about what Adam would see if she bent over in her microskirt while wearing these panties, and she shuddered.
Then her eyes lit upon her naughtiest pair of panties, and she actually giggled as she imagined herself wearing them under her microskirt. These panties were white, but ultra-sheer – almost completely transparent. The only truly white parts, in fact, were the waistband and the leg-bands. Worse still, the panties had no gusset, so she usually did not like to wear them as her juices would soak through them instantly.
The one redeeming feature of this impractical garment was that it was nice and stretchy. Even though it was not full-cut (it pretty much diagonally bisected each buttock), it would probably hold quite a large load of poo without spilling. The elastic was not all that strong, admittedly, but she could always use her hands to hold the panties up.
If she was going to wear these panties, she thought to herself, she would have to shave. She looked at her watch – she had enough time if she hurried. She trotted through to the bathroom and lathered herself up in front of the basin. Shaving off all her pubic hair gave her an unexpected thrill of excitement – she had not done this since she had lost a bet three years ago at university. Regarding herself critically in the mirror afterwards, she decided she rather liked the look of it now.
She put on a lacy white bra and her sheer panties, then she pulled her sheerest white blouse from her wardrobe. Again she giggled – Adam would be able to see every detail of her bra through this thing. Normally she wore a tank top underneath it – but not today. And normally she fastened all but the top two buttons – but not today. Today she left the top four buttons undone, which meant that anybody looking at her chest from the side would easily be able to see her bra-clad breast. Not that this was much of an achievement, given the sheerness of her blouse.
Then came the microskirt. She squealed with excitement as she looked at herself in the mirror – she looked like a cocktail waitress or something. Wouldn’t Adam be surprised! Hopefully he would be aroused, too…
She finished off the ensemble with a pair of black high-heeled shoes, and then left the flat at a run, hoping she would not miss the bus. Fortunately she was just in time, and at three minutes to nine she walked into the offices of Benson and Watt’s.
Irene and Martin were the only ones who were there already. Both of them gaped as Chloe entered. “Nice outfit!” commented Irene disapprovingly.
“Wow!” was all Martin could manage.
Chloe grinned. If they only knew what she was wearing under her skirt! “Thanks,” she said as she sat down behind her desk. Her skirt was too short to properly tuck under her bottom, and she could feel her computer chair against her pussy, her flimsy panties providing very little in the way of protection from the rough material of her seat cushion.
When Rita came in, she did not at first see Chloe’s skirt, since Chloe was sitting close in to her desk. She did, however, comment on Chloe’s blouse. “You shouldn’t wear such a see-through blouse in front of Martin,” she said wryly. “He might get ideas.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” asked Martin politely.
“Oh lighten up,” scowled Rita. “It was just a joke.”
“You should see her skirt,” muttered Irene.
Rita’s ears pricked up. “What’s that?” she said. She turned to look at Chloe. “You wearing another miniskirt? Well there’s a shock.”
“It’s a little shorter than usual,” Martin remarked.
Rita’s eyes narrowed. “How short?” she asked. “Go on then, Chloe – let’s see it.”
Chloe sighed, then stood up. As her skirt cleared the top of the desk, her thighs were still at an angle of forty-five degrees, which meant that her panties were clearly visible as a triangle between her legs. Fortunately she got up too quickly for Rita to realize her panties were see-through, but even so, the older woman was incensed.
“Christ!” she said. “Have you gone mad, Chloe? That’s an insanely short skirt!”
Chloe quailed, as she usually did, under Rita’s fierce stare. She wanted to tell them Adam had asked her to wear shorter skirts, but she knew that this would get Adam into trouble. So she merely said, “Yes, well, let’s see if Adam objects, shall we?”
Rita snorted. “I’m sure he’ll love it. Oh, is that the idea? Well you keep your distance, Chloe – he’s a married man.” She chuckled. “Besides, he likes normal women – you know, women who don’t crap in their panties.” At that moment her phone rang, and she hurried to answer it. Chloe, relieved, sat back down at her desk.
When Rita came off the phone, she was grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like you put on that skirt for nothing, Chloe,” she said. “Adam’s not well, and won’t be coming in.” She laughed raucously as Chloe’s face fell.
“Nothing serious I hope?” asked Irene in concern.
“Twenty-four hour thing, he thinks,” said Rita. “He should be in tomorrow.”
Chloe clamped her buttocks together, and her sphincter tightly shut, as her poo pushed hard against the inside of her anus. She was beginning to worry that she would not be able to hold out until this evening. Perhaps she would go out at lunchtime and visit the library toilet. But that would be most unsatisfactory – she had been hoping to have a proper accident.
Her anus began opening up, despite her efforts. This had happened several times already and was no particular cause for concern – she was getting very good at forcing the poo back in, even when it was sticking out by an inch or so. It took all her concentration, though, and her eyes crossed slightly as she gripped the sides of her chair and clenched with all of her strength, wiggling her bottom against the seat in an attempt to keep her poo inside.
Her anus kept widening, though, and it was soon two inches in diameter. The tip of her poo pushed through slowly, like a tortoise sticking its head out of its shell to see if the coast was clear. Two-and-a-half inches … three inches … and now the poo was really coming out, in spite of Chloe’s frantic clenching and squeezing. She did not want it to mess her seat through her panties, so she surreptitiously leaned forward in her chair, raising her bottom off the upholstery by a couple of inches.
This, of course, meant that now nothing whatever was preventing the poo from sliding out of Chloe’s rectum. And slide out it did – three inches, then four, then five, at which point the knobbly three-inch-wide head of the poo popped free and curled forward, pushing between her legs. Behind it came a more modest-sized cable of smoother poo, a little over two inches in diameter.
Chloe was by now in a state of panic. She was not sure whether to jump up and run to the bathroom, or jump up and run to the door. Either would be incredibly embarrassing – but not perhaps as embarrassing as remaining here until even more of her poo had come out. Yet she could not decide what to do!
Then, as the bulbous front end of the poo, curling forward between her legs, nudged against her pussy, she had what seemed like a clever idea. What if she used her hand to guide the poo into her vagina? She could slide it in, pinch off the poo, pass off the smell as a fart, and go to the bathroom to clean her panties. Nobody would be any the wiser, and she would have made enough room in her bowel to prevent another accident. It was brilliant!
Glancing around to make sure nobody was looking at her, she quickly tucked her hand up her skirt and into her panties. Her fingers found the lumpy poo, and with a brief grimace of distaste, she pressed it against her vagina. But it would not go in – there was not enough angle yet. Her poo would need to be lined up with her cunt if it was to slide in properly, and at the moment it was still pointing backwards. She would have to wait until her emerging poo had formed a wide enough loop that the front end was pointing straight upwards.
This would mean having to get up off the seat more. She glanced around again – everyone was on the phone. Then her own phone rang, and she jumped, startled. Reaching across her computer awkwardly with her left hand, she picked up the receiver. Her heart sank – it was Peter Vandenbergh, the customer she had failed to call back the day before yesterday. This time, she could not afford to annoy the man.
“Hello Peter,” she said. “I know – I am so sorry about not returning your call on Tuesday. I was having a bad day and – well there’s no excuse. I’m sorry. So what can I do for you today?”
As she spoke, she lifted her bottom off her chair, then rolled her chair back a little, and a little to the left, and rotated it a bit, so that when she sat back down, she was resting just her left thigh on the front right corner of the seat. This was not a particularly comfortable position, but at least it meant that there was nothing underneath her bottom, and she could continue to let her poo come out without fear of making a mess on the chair.
“Yes, I’m just pulling up the order now,” said Chloe, tucking her phone between her head and her shoulder, then attempting to type and use her mouse (which was on the right-hand side of her computer) with her left hand, while her right was trying to work the tip of her poo into her vagina. “Sorry,” she apologised, “my computer seems to be running a bit slowly today.”
She guessed her poo was now positioned at a pretty good angle now, but she was having trouble getting the squishy thing into her cunt. After a few messy failures, she decided to grab the bull firmly by the horns, so to speak, and so she grasped her poo with her whole hand and pushed it upwards into her vagina. Her opening stretched wide … wider … wider still … the poo started to squish … and then suddenly it slid inside. She sighed with relief. “Um, no, sorry – I wasn’t sighing at you, Peter. I’m just a little frustrated with my computer. Ah, here’s your order now. I’m showing that you placed the order for seven hundred units, for delivery on the eighteenth – is that not correct?”
Now she was trying to slide more of her poo inside, while attempting to pinch off her poo by closing her anus. But every time she tried to clench her anal muscles, she could not help clenching her vagina a little too – and this prevented her from pushing her poo into her cunt. So she was obliged to let her poo continue to flow out of her rectum while she slid the huge knobbly front end of the turd into her vagina. By the time she had shoved it in as far as it would go, filling her cunt to capacity, an additional twelve inches of poo was curled up in her panties, one end connecting to the poo still emerging from her anus, the other still attached to the poo in her vagina.
It felt wonderful, she had to concede as she withdrew her hand and wiped it on a couple of tissues from the Kleenex box on her desk, but her predicament now was worse than if she had just made a run for the toilet when she had the chance. And she still had Peter on the phone. “Well it says here that you requested the eighteenth – I can dig out the original order that Cindy faxed to me if you like…” She paused, trying to decide whether to make her excuses and run to the toilet, or stay here and deal with the fall-out from having her colleagues smell what she had done. It was only a matter of time before this happened anyway. But Adam would surely fire her if she abandoned Peter.
“Um, sorry, what did you say?” she asked, somewhat flustered. “Oh – it does? Well I’m not sure, then – let me get hold of that fax.” She dug around in her drawer, then she felt her emerging poo slim down suddenly and speed up as it softened. A one-and-a-half-inch rope of poo rapidly unravelled into her panties, piling up randomly atop the thicker turd already curled up back there. Forcing herself to ignore the sensations, she found the file she was after and hurriedly flicked through it, looking for the order. “Ah – I have it,” she said. She looked at the date. “Peter, this clearly says the eighteenth. I can fax it back to you if you like.” She gingerly reached back and patted her bulging panties. There was a heck of a lot of poo in there already, but she could tell there was plenty more to come. Well, she had blown her chances of getting away with her accident unnoticed, so there was not really much point in holding back now.
She pushed, and pushed, and her anus slowly dilated until it reached a painful three inches in diameter. She grunted with the effort, then strained hard as a huge and lumpy poo began to slowly slide out into her already crowded panties. Glancing up, she saw that her colleagues were all staring at her. Irene, who was closest, was holding her nose. She muted her phone and said, “I’m having an accident, but I’ve got Peter Vandenbergh on the phone! What shall I do?”
“Just finish your call quickly, and get out of here!” hissed Rita angrily.
Chloe un-muted her phone. “Well not really, Peter – we’re out of stock and have to wait for the new product to come off the line. We can get it shipped the following morning, which would be the thirteenth, but it will take a couple of days to get to you. We plan our production runs weeks in advance – it’s a little late to change it around now. We’d be letting down a lot of our other customers. I’m sorry, Peter, but Cindy did ask for the eighteenth. The best I can do is the fifteenth – or the fourteenth, if you want to pay for an expedited shipment.”
As Peter responded to this at great length, Chloe resumed pushing out the huge poo she was currently working on. Her panties sagged lower and lower under the weight, and she eased herself off her chair so that she could kneel on the floor instead. Pulling her skirt up, she tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and lowered them a few inches, so that there was more space for her large poo. Then she pushed as hard as she could. Six … eight … ten inches of her latest poo slid reluctantly through her anus, and flopped down on top of the pile of poo in her panties. Then a slightly slimmer (but still very wide at two and a half inches) poo started to come out. She pulled her panties back up a little, afraid that she was going to lose some of the poo down her legs, but then she pulled out the waistband several inches at the back, so that the mass of poo spread out and provided a kind of shelf on to which she could heap more poo.
And heap it she did. Straining hard, she pushed out a full twelve inches of semi-soft poo, which curled up atop the growing mound, building a veritable mountain whose summit was four or five inches above her waistband. Rita, who had come over, holding her nose, to see what was going on, stared in amazement and horror at the sight. “Jesus, that looks even bigger than your last one!” she said. “Why don’t you go more often?”
Chloe frantically waved her quiet, and said, “Yes Peter – I understand your frustration. Yes, we did send you a confirmation – I have the email still in my Sent Items folder.”
The next poo to come out was softer still, pouring out of Chloe’s anus and, with nowhere else to go, surging up her buttock cleavage, up the side of the mountain, and heaping itself over the top in a shapeless pile. As Chloe continued to poo, this pile spread, creeping slowly up her back and covering her bunched-up microskirt.
Still there was no poo in the front of her panties – the forward progress of her spreading mass was halted by the thick rod of poo lodged in her cunt and poking down a couple of inches between her legs. Some of the new soft poo, however, was now oozing forward either side of this rod, and it began to slide over her pussy like a squishy tongue. Before long a full inch of mushy poo separated her panties from her clitoris, and her shaven pussy, which had been clearly visible through her transparent panties, was now eclipsed by a rising, flattish wad of poo.
“Just a moment Peter,” said Chloe, rather breathlessly as she was getting quite excited. “That’s an older order. I’ll have to go and dig it out of the filing cabinet. Can you hold while I go and fetch it?”
She put him on hold and then turned to Rita. “What?” she demanded, in a rare display of defiance.
Rita shrugged. “I’m just – flabbergasted,” she said. “That’s all. I can’t believe you’re doing this – again. I can’t believe you’re pooping as much as you are – how is this even possible? I can’t believe you wore see-through knickers under such a short skirt. It’s revolting – I can see every detail of your shit through your underwear, you know. And I can’t believe they’re managing to hold all of that shit. Or that they’re staying up, despite you holding on to the back like that.”
“Well I’m sure they won’t stay up for long,” said Chloe. “But in the meantime, would you please fetch an order acknowledgement for me from the filing cabinet? It’s from March.”
“Get it yourself,” said Rita. “This should be amusing to watch.”
Chloe scowled. “Fine!” she said. She put the phone down and gingerly got to her feet, still hanging on to the back of her panties with one hand, holding the waistband about six inches behind her bottom. As she walked slowly over to the cabinet, the wide eyes of her colleagues all followed her every step of the way. Her own eyes glazed over a bit, as she thrilled to the sensation of the poo in her cunt oozing in and out with each step, and to the delightful feeling of the soft tongue of poo in the front licking her clitoris. She opened the cabinet with her free hand, and grunted slightly as she pushed out a firmer lump of poo, which found a small gap between two other turds in her panties and pushed between them, forcing them apart and causing her poo-mountain to uplift by another inch.
Her colleagues could by now only see the waistband and leg-bands of her panties – the gauzy material connecting them was stretched so much that poo had started to ooze through the mesh. Now it simply looked as if a vast, lumpy ball of poo was magically clinging to Chloe’s bottom.
“You know,” said Rita, staring in fascinated revulsion at Chloe’s poo, “this is probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, yet I have to admit that my scientific curiosity is aroused. I wonder if this is a record. Should we call the Guinness people, do you think?”
“No!” exclaimed Chloe. “You’d think they’d want to put something like this in their book?” She found the order acknowledgement she was looking for, and returned slowly to her desk, gasping excitedly as she felt herself approaching an orgasm.
Rita spied a customer about to enter the office. “Martin! Stop him, quick!”
Martin, who was closest to the door, jumped to his feet and intercepted the customer. “Sorry, we’re closed,” he said.
“Your sign…” began the man.
“Not any more,” said Martin, flipping the sign. “We’ve got a medical emergency on our hands – come back in an hour.”
“God, it stinks in there!” said the man. “I think I’ll go to the other people.”
“You do that,” said Martin. He closed the door and locked it.
Chloe had resumed her kneeling position behind her desk. “I’ve got it here, Peter. Yes, I can see that it has been revised.” She closed her eyes and pushed again – a two-inch-wide poo started coming out of her rectum. She could feel that she was almost finished – perhaps this would be the last one. “Well maybe she did fax me a revision, but I didn’t receive it and I certainly never sent her an acknowledgement confirming the change. She knows that an order, or a change to an order, is not confirmed unless she receives the acknowledgement.”
She was finding it hard to concentrate. Her poo would not come out any further – it was too firm and there was too much already in her panties, pushing back against it. Bracing her phone once again between head and shoulder, she reached behind her with her free hand and slid it down her back and into the mass of poo. Working her hand downwards between the bulk of the poo and her anus, she cupped her hand so as to make a little room for her emerging poo. Then she pushed hard, and as she did so she grabbed hold of her poo and slowly withdrew her arm.
As it left her anus, therefore, the new turd followed her arm upwards, climbing up her spine until it reached the top of the mound where it rested against her back. Grabbing a handful of tissues, Chloe hurriedly cleaned her hand as well as she could, while saying to Peter, “Yes, yes I know, I can certainly see your point…”
Then, finally, she pushed out the last bit of her poo – a long slender snake of soft shit which oozed anywhere it could, including down between her legs and forward past her cunt-poo into the front of her panties. “Well I’m sorry you feel that way, Peter,” she said. “No, he’s not in today. I’ll get him to call you tomorrow, okay? In the meantime, I’ll make sure the consignment ships as soon as it hits the warehouse floor. All right. Thanks Peter. Bye-bye.”
She put the phone down. “Gosh, what a difficult man that Peter Vandenbergh can be!”
But nobody cared. They were all staring at her as if she was from another planet.
“You’d better go home and clean up,” said Rita.
Chloe looked at the time. Yes, it was still early – Sara would not be home yet. “Thanks,” she said. “But I can’t go on the bus. Would any of you care to take me…?” She looked around hopefully, but one by one her colleagues turned away to look at their monitors. Even Irene, though at least she had the decency to look guilty.
“You made your bed,” said Rita. “Now you’ll just have to lie in it. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a bus driver that gets turned on by women pooping themselves.”
Chloe sighed. “Maybe,” she said, not believing for a second that she would be that lucky. “All right – I’ll go home and clean up, then I’ll come back here as soon as I can. I’ll see you all later.”
Switching off her computer, she picked up her purse and slowly, very carefully, walked to the front door of the office, still clutching the waistband at the back of her panties with her right hand. Martin opened the door for her, and out she went on to the pavement, moaning and shuddering with pleasure as the motion of her turds in her panties (and inside her) brought her to a knee-trembling climax. Swaying on the spot, and panting, she eyed the library across the street, wondering whether she should go there to empty out her panties and clean up. But then she decided that since her clothes were already messy and needed washing, there was not much point in going to the library toilet – she would have to go home afterwards anyway.
Passers-by were beginning to take an interest in her. “Oh my God!” said one young woman. “Would you look at this freak?”
Chloe blushed crimson, but she ignored the woman, and others who made similar comments, as she carefully walked down the road to the bus stop, precipitating two more orgasms along the way. She waited for twenty minutes for a bus that did not come, attracting an increasing number of gawkers, until suddenly a police car drove by. It squealed to a stop, then pulled in to the side of the road. Two officers got out – one of them a tall man in his thirties, the other a younger woman of Indian descent.
“Excuse me Miss,” said the woman, “we’re going to have to take you in. You’re causing a scene here.”
Chloe was actually relieved to see them. “I was trying to get home to clean up!” she said. “But these people won’t leave me alone!”
“Nevertheless,” said the woman, “we’ll have to take you to the station. Empty out your knickers and get in the back of the car. Constable Baker, would you be so good as to lay out a blanket in the back for her?”
“But I don’t want to get into trouble for fouling the pavement!” said Chloe.
“It’s a worse offence to foul a police car,” said the policewoman. Then she appeared to change her mind. “Still, if you’re going to be sitting on a blanket anyway, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Hop in, then.”
Once Constable Baker had laid out the blanket, Chloe climbed in gingerly. “Should I kneel?” she asked. “To minimise the mess? Or should I just sit down?”
“You’ll need to put your seatbelt on,” said the woman, “so you’ll have to sit down. Try to make sure the mess stays on the blanket though.”
Slowly, Chloe lowered herself down on to the blanket. Her poo hit the seat long before her buttocks did, and spread out wide, splurging out of the sides of her panties and out of the top of the waistband. As she leaned back against the seat, her poo-mountain climbed even higher up her back, messing up her blouse all the way to her shoulder-blades. She sighed with pleasure, and gyrated her pussy into the mess until she was moaning in another orgasm.
“You know what?” said the man. “Let’s just get her home. Can you imagine what the others would say if we filed a report on this?”
After a short conference in low voices, the woman nodded. “Okay,” she said to Chloe, “we’re going to let you off with a warning. I strongly suggest you adopt a more frequent schedule for your number twos.”
Chloe, glowing in post-orgasmic bliss, smiled with relief and gratitude. “I will,” she promised … with her fingers crossed.