You moan in defeat as you take off the pull-up you were so excited to get only a moment before, Sarah puts on a devilish grin as she watches your sad, slow movements. You truly have never felt shame as much as this.
Once you've realized the soggy, dirty pull-up has hit the ground, you toss it in the bin and slowly crawl to the litter-box. As you place your hand in the litter, you feel it's grainy, hard, and uncomfortable texture. "So this is what cats feel when they prepare to use the potty" you mutter under your breath. You continue to crawl into the litter, feeling the litter caress your legs and feet, It feels as if fire is slowly brushing against your girlish legs followed by the feeling of thousands of pins going into your legs and hands.
Once you are fully in the litter-box, you position yourself in an squatting position. The rumbling in your stomach is nearly unbearable, Sarah continues to look on with lucrative curiosity as to wether or not you're actually going to use the litter-box. Suddenly, the entirety of your bowels begin to empty onto the litter, it truly feels like something is burning the inside of your anus while on the other end, you bladder in emptying itself at light speed. The sweat trickling down your body is incredibly hot and does nothing to bring you back into homeostasis. The smell is unbearable to a point in which Sarah zaps herself and you to have a gas mask on in order to not succumb to the repulsive odor.
You finally finish and are close to blacking out, in order to not faint, you sit down in the litter-box. The feeling of the hot, mushy, smelly feces surround you, engulfing your lower torso in a nice, warm, aura. You have to take a few minutes considering wether or not you wish to stay in this warmth. Sarah looks on and says "This is exactly why you need to use a litter-box", she continues on but the bliss is so apparent that you cannot even hear her, It feels as if you could just melt into this wonderful box of warmth but you suddenly realize that this cannot be so, or can it?
You slowly get out of your rectangular prism of filth and look down to see your bottom half, stained a shade of brown normally associated with feces or rocky road ice cream. Sarah demands that you clean up this area, but the thing is, she left the Ray-gun dangerously close to the 16-yo girl who just had an amazingly blissful experience, so tell me, do you still want to take orders from this brat?
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