You can't stand it anymore; the sound, oh God...the smell. You slowly, carefully step off the toilet seat and onto the floor. Good, not a sound.
"Hey, uh...I didn't know anyone was in here, heh. I'm sorry for this, I had some bad meat chili, and some curry...oooof, isn't helping," she says as she blows another hurricane of sloppy diarrhea into the already tormented toilet bowl.
You stifle a gag as you try to just keep walking out; silently you undo the latch to your stall, the door squeaks noticeably and you cringe.
"Do you have any toilet paper in there; this one is all empty," she says, hitting the plastic rollers aggressively.
No words; you just need to keep moving. You tiptoe by her stall but, loudly, the latch smacks and her stall door opens with you right in front of it.
You're frozen like a deer in the headlights.
"What the fuck!?" She says, fuming with anger; you try to scurry away but she stands, hovering over the toilet so her drippy ass mess doesn't miss the bowl, and grabs your shirt. She pulls you into the stall and smacks your head against the hard porcelain toilet; while in a daze, she carelessly throws your head, face-up, into the toilet bowl. You regain your senses just as a big ass with brown seeping out it's crack comes towards you before enveloping your head in it's smelly crevice.
"Looks like there's toilet paper in here after all," she mocks as your feet scrape uselessly against the ground to signify your futile attempt to escape.
She moans and a lazy flood of diarrhea drizzles and pools in your face as you gargle liquid shit. Eventually the waste pushes past and into the bowl as she starts to push out a wide log.
"Open wide," she giggles as her freight-train like log picks up speed and barrels towards your panting, tortured mouth; it easily fills it, the girth almost too much for your throat as you odiously try to chew her shit into manageable logs as more and more pours out. You cry and gag and choke all at the same time; she laughs and touches herself.
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