The Morning Shit...

10:28 Am…

There was a gentle breeze caressing the leaves of the great oak tree that he had grown beneath his window 7 years ago on the day of his marriage, he knew it was dangerous in the likely event of a storm, that the tree could likely snap in half and come crashing down and kill both him and his sleeping wife.

Speaking of his wife, she wasn’t there sleeping next to him as she usually does, it doesn’t matter to him though, he gets up off the bed, the bed sheet running across his smooth muscular body, he decides to go up to the mirror in the room taking a moment to examine himself in the mirror, his chest hair was erect, a bad sign, it had only happened to him once before, back when he was only 7. It was the hair on his head though at that time, not surprising considering he was only a child when it had happened. It was then that the first cramp hit him, doubling him over with pain, ‘Oh shit’ he muttered to himself, little did he realize the truth in those two little words, judging from the pain, he knew he didn’t have much time to reach the bathroom, he should have never trusted his wife to cook, he knew what that thing had done to his mother, it ran in the family, any woman who married into his family lost all of their ability to cook food, nobody ever understood it, and of all those who witnessed what happened, he’s the only one who ever survived, they didn’t believe him, they thought he was crazy, but he knew what he saw, his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, he wasn’t a little kid trying to deal with the brutal death of his mother by throwing himself into a sick and twisted little fantasy, ‘Oh no, not again’ he moaned as the second wave hit him like a ton of bricks…Ten seconds later he’s finally reached the door to the bathroom, ‘No…This can’t be happening to me, it just can’t…’ as he realized with sick horror that his wife was inside the bathroom, he could hear her taking a shower inside, he didn’t have time to think there was no time to explain, he stormed through the door, his wife began screaming, thinking that he was crazy, but she didn’t know, she couldn’t know, it wasn’t her fault. He punched her in the face, silencing her, her limp body falling across the basin of the bath, he took her in his arms before her body fell to the floor and heaved her across the bathroom out into the bedroom outside, he winced at the sound her head made as it connected with the bedside table but he had more important things to worry about, he locked the door, and sat upon the toilet waiting for it to happen, this time when the pain came, he wouldn’t hold it in, he’ll let it out, he’ll let it loose or it’ll tear him from the inside out.

It’s finally time, he could feel his anus expanding as the first jet of gas was forcefully ejected from his body, the stink clogged his nostrils and brought manly tears down from his eyes, he could feel his intestines expanding as they were preparing to eject a massive load down into the toilet, he felt the acid storm through his intestines first, burning the nerves in his anus until he could feel nothing, and that was when it happened. The first jet of liquid shit shot from his ass into the toilet beneath him, sending a stream of shitty water to cover his ass with a fine mist, he could feel it hardening 4 seconds later encrusting his ass like the shell of a turtle, he dry heaved at the smell, the smell was indescribable, the pain was excruciating, he was in pure agony, as every jet of shit felt like a jet fighter scrambling out of his ass. It was only moments later that he could hear that sick maniacal laugh, like a person drowning in a pool of shit laughing his ass off. A wave of pure force threw him off the toilet sending him sliding through the bathroom on the smooth wet tile. A huge humanoid shit began to rise from the toilet.

‘What do you want from me’ he asked.

‘I want you to tell me my name’ the shit replied.

‘You’re Evil Poopoo, the one who killed my mother’

‘Hardly, your mother’s death was caused by her inability to cook and neither is my name Evil Poopoo that was the name given to me by a desperate little child unable to deal with reality’

‘Then what is it? What’s your name?’

‘I am Lord Diarrhea; I am he who shall take the life of your wife, she who cannot cook’

‘Never! I won’t let you’

‘Silence mortal’ shouted Lord Diarrhea as he threw a huge ball of quick dry shit, encrusting him from head to toe in a prison of shit.

He could do nothing but squirm as he heard the screams of his wife, he could only imagine what was being done to her, he never heard her scream like that, he never heard anyone make those noises before, soon all he could hear were the gurgling sounds as he knew she was drowning in a pool of his own shit…