Would've, should've, but didn't!

Tamara stood on the landing in the stairway sweating profusely, Her stomach growled and churned sickeningly, and her knees trembled and buckled. The painful cramps in her gut reached their sharpest, and now, against her best efforts, she farted loudly, which liquified from gas to a sizeable squirt of diarrhea, landing on the ground behind her and soiling her tiny white thong. Tamara looked around in panic, seeing a metal trash barrel with the requisite bag in it, becoming an undesirable, but inviting solution to her intestinal distress. As she walked quickly to it, she couldn't help but think: "why didn't I just go in HIS toilet?". . .

30 minutes before, Tamara woke up with a mild hangover in a large bed. She is 22, african-american, with a knock-out body, measurements to the effect of 30C-29-41. With her thin waist, wide hips, large soft behind, and her pretty, stunning face, she had many male admirers, and a select few lovers, none very dedicated. 'Her' recent conquest, of little consequence to her, lie asleep beside her. Jamal, Jamile, Jacob, she couldn't really remember his name, but he was in incredible shape and very well hung, and had given her a long night of very loud, drunken sex. Tamara had met him at the club, and after several fruity cocktails decided to go home with him. Before the club, she had consumed a very large meal at her aunt's place, listening to her the usual "find-a-nice-man-who'll-support-blah-blah" from her, but Tamara put up with it because a) it was a large delicious meal and b) deep down she actually thought her aunt was a nice lady and did genuinely care about her. She ever made a decent point about a "nice man," who Tamara thought this most recent tryst partner might be. He certainly was good in bed, 4 or 5 hours of hard, wet fucking with his ample endowment had put him on the list of men she might call back.

The time was about 1:30PM, and as comfy as this bed was, Tamara was struck with a strong, urgent need to piss. She tried ignoring it, but the night's copious alcohol consumption won out, and she slunk out of bed into the bathroom near it, quietly shutting the door. Little did she know it, but both her meal and her liquor had been on a collision course in her digestive track, and as she fluffed out her ass cheeks, lifting one slightly, and then turning around descending to the toilet, she didn't realize that now was the last chance she would get to control the impending rectal disaster. "Ooo," Tamara jolted, the seat was cold, soon positioning her holes and started a powerful, bright yellow stream. "Ahhmmm" she sighed as she colored the bowl, realizing she'd be there for a bit, being somewhat disposed to long bathroom trips both of the liquid and solid variety. After about 20 seconds of splashing piss into the toilet, a loud gurgling-groan lurched through Tamara's bowels and a heavy pressure barked at her slightly sore anus. "Gahh," she moaned slightly, then believing this was just after-booze gas, cut loose a loud, bass toned fart that echoed and amplified in the toilet. BRRRRAAMMPPPP. "Shit" Tamara thought, thinking it would a quiet one, and not wanting to awaken her gracious host. The stench was very, very unpleasant and a quick follow-up squeaked it's way out, being definitively wetter than the the first. The noisy, stinky farts didn't relieve her stomach cramps though, and Tamara's guts cramped up tighter and the urge fell on her ass again. Tamara's face locked in horror, she knew what this meant: she needed a dump, a big, nasty, sloppy, toilet stopping dump. But not HERE! Anywhere else, the mall, home (well, not there, she hated having to clean it up), her girlfriend's, her aunts', ANYWHERE but in this fine man's clean bright porcelain! How could she face him when got up? What if he woke up to find her befouling his bathroom with the ass he had so many nice things to say about the night before? She'd never live it down, so she decided her body could wait and she would answer nature's call on her schedule, in her choice of venue. It was difficult for the last 20 seconds of pissing though, having to hold it. Tamara drew up her slightly toned stomach and concentrated, and with some loud groans, her bowels seemed to be tamed and the urge to clog a toilet subsided, for now. . .

Tamara flushed her golden pond, and quietly collected her yellow, body hugging minidress. It showed off her sharp curves and, much to her own delight, didn't quite make it all the way down her large brown ass, leaving the bottom fifth playfully exposed. After peeling it back on, the tiny, white thong soon came up her legs, then things, disappearing into her ass but separating it slightly. She tied her high-heeled strap sandals back on, and giving what's-his-name a peck on the cheek as he slept blissfully unaware. Tamara even checked his cell-phone, looking for a number, but the image was of another girl on the main screen, and a recent text from a "Destiny" with more committed-sounding message made her consider abandoning the quest, but soon found the number and punched it into her own phone as she slunk from his rather nice, upscale apartment into the hall. "Oh well, I can make him leave that bitch for me anyway" she thought, a bit conceited, her arrogance about her own beauty firmly entrenched. Tamara trotted somewhat quickly down the hall towards the elevator, with her ass bobbing and bouncing on her heels like it always did. At the elevator, she pushed the button and continued playing with her phone. Suddenly, her stomach lurched and groaned again, and Tamara soon careless farted FFRRRRRTTTHRRRPPP again, her miniscule underwear somewhat muffling the sound. But not the smell, pungent as the bombs she let out before, and soon it wafted over to the janitor who had just exited a service closet. It was awful, sulfur-y and rank, and the poor aging man was taken aback. He looked at the young lady waiting for the elevator, impatiently pushing the button. She was alone, it must have been her. "Excuse me ma'am?" he asked politely. Tamara spun her head around, and casting an impudent glare at him for having the nerve to talk to him. "Wha-chu-want?" her rapid response was, thinking "this nasty old fool is starin' at my ass. Look at him, like he slick or somthing!" "Ma'am, that elevator is disabled, you'll need to use the stairs" he said. Tamara looked down and noticed the "out of order" sign in his hand. "Great" she thought, turning away and grimacing, forcing her body to wait yet again, and her guts angrily responded with more sloshing and gurgling as she trotted to the stairs. Just before starting down, another fart SSSHHHFFFFTHRRPP'd it's way out, and the janitor merely stood there, unsure of what to do. But as Tamara, now mortified by audibly farting in front of, whom she thought to be, an inferior creature, quickly trotted down the stairs as she swore about the janitor and her stomach under her breath.

Each step down hiked Tamara's dress up a little bit, so that by the time she reached the landing between floors, she had to hike it down a bit. Her stomach had quieted down but a mild, slowly growing discomfort remained, and it occasionally made an odd gurgle or slosh as she enforced her "my schedule, my choice of venue" on her body. Her head still pounded lightly, her mouth still dry, and a strong thirst accompanied her, all from her hangover. The walk down the stairs in her steep heels was slow and irritating. Down one flight, stop, fix dress, down the next flight, fix dress again, reign in stomach, repeat. Nature is what is, powerful, yet in some instances controllable. Dams can hold back rivers, explosives can cut new valleys, and people can generally forestall waste expulsion until a suitable location is found. But nature's power sometimes overrides those controls, and now it had decided that Tamara would no longer ignore it's call. She WOULD answer nature's call and copiously at the at. She would answer it regardless of where she was or whether or not it was convinient for her. If convinience was the issue she should've done her business, neigh, her duty when she was back in a bathroom, sitting on the appropriate receptacle.

The trip down the stairs was smooth going from 5th floor to 4th, 4th to 3rd (although on the 4-3 landing she started getting gassy and crampy again) was also relatively okay. But from the 3rd down, so was the slide, so to speak. Tamara's stomach lurched and growled very loudly, startling her before the strongest wave of cramps yet hit her and she had to stop on the stairs and cross her legs, clutching the railing in a death-grip. BRRRRAAPPP. She involuntarily farted loudly, and like the others, it left a sticky feeling between her ass. "Ohh, come on, hold it, hold it, c'mon girl this ain't bad. Besides, didn't you shit at Aunt Doreen's anyway?" she thought to herself. She tried convincing her self that she did, she liked shitting there anyway. Doreen didn't mind if Tamara stopped up the toilet, which she did nearly every time she moved her bowels. It was a comfortable toilet, with one of those soft seats. The kind that are easy on a big ass like Tamara's during a long, toilet-filling shit. "Ohhh damnit!" Tamara whined, thinking about that soft cushion almost made her lose control. She inched to the next step, and the next, and the next. On the landing she farted three more times, all getting a bit wetter. Tamara started to tremble slightly, and broke into a sweat. Twitching back and forth, she decided to go for broke and hurried down the next flight to floor number 2 (of all places!), and tripped up on her heels, almost falling, almost losing control. . .

Tamara righted herself, but now her stomach pain was constant, throbbing, coming in waves. She tried holding back but the pain merely got worse and her body would respond by blasting out another fart. Tamara wobbled to the next staircase thinking "okay, you made it this far, make it outta this place, got to a mcdonalds or something and then, oh then. . ." Tamara started getting wishful again, thinking of a white porcelain cure for a her aching stomach and now odorous and hurting behind. "Snap out of, you want to shit your drawers" she thought to herself, whining in pain, holding her butt she trotted down the stairs to the landing. Her dress hiked up over halfway up her ass now, but she couldn't go any further. Her stomach wouldn't let her. It growled and groaned angrily, and a sharp cramp sliced through her guts causing her to shout out in pain. "Gaahhh" she cried, another loud fart flew forth from ample hindquarters, but this one was different: it ended in diarrhea. A small amount sprayed out, the pressure forcing it around Tamara's thong tiny thong panties staining them brown. The shit missed her dress due to it's uncorrected hike, dotting the floor with six half-dollar sized light brown spots behind her. A small amount trickled off her left cheek. Tamara's knees buckled, she was sweating and in sheer agony. "Why me?" she thought, or at least tried to, all her efforts were going to clamping her ass shut to prevent her 'unloading' on the stairway landing. After about a minute of near blinding pain, Tamara knew she was beaten; she would have to shit here. There was no avoiding it now, so she looked frantically about for SOME kind of bucket or drain pipe or. . .a trash can! A big, open top metal trash can with a fresh empty bag! Oh how bittersweet the sight it was for poor Tamara. She walked towards clutching her ass and just as she was near it, she stopped. "What the fuck? Am I a homeless bum? Some kinda crackhead, shittin' in a trash can!" she thought indignantly. Having a large odorous bowel movement in public was beneath HER (not public toilets though. she had a reputation at the local mall where the custodial staff learned that when her tight jeans hit her ankles in a stall, an "out of order" sign and 30 minute plunger ordeal would soon follow; but this was different, it wasn't a toilet and there wasn't a divider). But soon nature decided it WASN'T, and her rectum spasmed, nearly filling her hands with shit. She quickly backed up to the trash can and furiously worked the thong down, which soon fell at her ankles and grew taught as she spread her legs a bit, advertising the sheer brown stain on the back of it. Tamara settled her ass onto the trash can, clutching this sides, her bountiful ass spreading a bit over the sides. Her toes and face knotted, and she bore down. . . .

The following sound could only be accurately described as about 10 gallons of mud, being detonated into the metal trash can. BBRRAAAPPFLLIIOOOAAPPFFFPP. The sound was as loud as the smell was horrid. Tamara sprayed a thick noxious diarrhea into the much needed trash can. "Ohhh, ahhh, nooo, nonono" she cried, trying to stem the tide, but her efforts only hastened the pace at which shit thundered from anus, splattering noisily in the trash can. The chunky wave lasted about 2-3 minutes, and it slowed as a sweating, panting Tamara tried to catch her breath. Her stomach pain still remained though, and her intestines knotted a cramped, and Tamara pushed heavily, with another loud wave of rancid mud her reward. In sprayed and sloshed into the trash can, and upon her now frequent farts, splattered the inner walls, coating them with her shit. And all she could do was push more out and cry and whine. Her farts and noisy diarrhea continued another 5 minutes. About halfway in, Tamara lost control of the situation, no longer able to stem her brown tides or speed them up. "Ahhkkgahhhmmmaaa," she cried out as she uncontrollable splatter diarrhea in full public view. She was so wrought with pain and caught up in the 'moment' she failed to notice a middle aged white man at the top of the stairwell. His mouth hung open as he saw Tamara, seated on the trash can, noisily answering nature's call. He stood in awe and utter shock, not knowing what to say or do, simply deciding upon having his nostrils burnt with Tamara's odor, to take the other stairwell. Tamara caught a fleeting glimpse of him, and tried to get his attention, but he had gone. Another mushy shit blast rumbled from her underside with the now usual noise and the stench only got worse. To Tamara's mortification, an older couple rounded the corner on the first floor, looking up in horror and disgust as she groaned and bore down, blasted more thick shit into the rapidly filling trash can. "Oh my god, that is disgusting" the women said loudly, getting Tamara's attention, causing her to realize she now had an audience. "Harold, that hooker is having a BM! I can't believe this" she continued indignantly. All Tamara could do to respond was whine out "hey I-gahhh" as her stomach knotted and she involuntarily sprayed more chunky mush into her "toilet." The elderly couple jumped back a bit at the noise, and the woman started walking away. The old man was in awe like the other man, Tamara was stunningly beautiful, even in this most vile, yet natural, moment of agony and expulsion. "HAROLD" she barked, and he followed, casting another glance back at Tamara, before catching up as she remarked "I'm going to call the police and have that disgusting trollop arrested. A public garbage can, really, I never. . . " her voice trailing off as they disappeared into the hallway.

"Oh shit" Tamara thought, "the COPS! How the FUCK am I going to explain thiiiissss" her thoughts interupted by long noise fudge blast that ended in several large, though solid, turds, splashing into her mucky mess below. She had lost all control of her bowels and sprayed three more short liquid dung blasts, whimpering the whole time. The whole situation was terrible: a ruined thong, the public humiliation of filling a trash can with shit while being SEEN, and now, to add injury to insult, the police would probably been en route to lock her up for doing this. "Ohh no, no, no" Tamara whined and cried as her she farted out more chunks intermittantly, signaling an end was in site. But she had nothing to wipe with, and her ass was a mess, and her thong splatter with stinky shit. . . "Excuse me" a familiar voice called out, Tamara's pretty dark eyes shot up to the upper stairwell, teary though they were, to see the janitor standing there. "Yeah, what" she sniffled, farting and pooping a little bit more, visibly upset. "Miss," he said compassionately, "while what made you so sick isn't my business, it became mine when you decided to crap in the trash can. Now, I know accidents happen, and given that I could hear and smell you from the fifth floor, I know this wasn't intentional. We're all only human, and we all get caught short every once in a while. So here's what's going to happen: you're going to finish up, then you're gonna wash up in the utility room at the end of the hall. I'll get rid of that <pointing at the 3/4 full trash barrel>, and that'll be that." Tamara was shocked, after giving the guy an attitude he was being a generally good person, not wanting money, or sex, or some other favor. "Th-thanks" she muttered, still farting and pooping a bit, bearing down a bit, another loud fart and quick mush wave slopped into the trash can, and she felt much better, if still a little sick. She felt weak, and wobbled a bit as she stood, kicking her thong off and tossing into the brownish-greenish, chunky shit stew she had just filled the trash barrel with. The janitor bumped a hand cart down the stairs, picked up the trash barrel, and eased it down the stairs, causing it's contents to slosh about sickeningly. Tamara followed slowly, her dress still hiked up around her big, smooth brown ass, which was smeared and pock-marked with shit streaks and spots. "Thanks mister," she said, humbled, "I'm real sorry about that." "It's okay, I told you, accidents happen. But you have to promise me one thing?" he replied. "Yes, what" she said quietly, politely. "The next time you come here and have to poop, PLEASE do it in a bathroom" he said, smiling. Tamara smirked and giggled coyly but quietly under her breath.

Reaching the utility closet, the janitor entered first and started dealing with the bag. Tamara's stomach suddenly lurched again. "Oh no" she said in horror, her face going pale. She squatted down and her anus pulsed and she farted and splatter more thick brown mush onto the concrete floor. The puddle/pile quickly spread out to over a foot in diameter, about 2 inches high. "Oooo, I'm so so so sorry mister, I though I was doooonnnee" Tamara groaned, her stomach gurgling and her ass spewing more rancid diarrhea on the floor. After 3 waves, she was done, this time she was sure of it. "All set?" the janitor inquired. "Yeah," Tamara responded, standing up and heading into the little bathroom area in the utility room. The janitor switched on a shop vac and started sucking up Tamara's sloppy deposit as she gingerly wiped and washed her ass in the sink. Her rectum burned, but though her stomach was still crampy, there was nothing else to poop out, but she did rip a few noisy farts before finally finishing the cleanup after about 10 minutes. She pulled her dress down, and came around the corner to find the janitor tying up the bag filled with her copious waste. "I'm really sorry about all this mister, I mean your floor and the trash can, and the smell" Tamara apologized. "It's okay, I needed a new shop vac anyway. Now that cheap bastard of a super we got here will have no choice!" he said laughing. He perplexed Tamara, he was. . . a . . . genuinely. . .nice. . . person. Maybe they did exist; maybe her aunt was right. In either case, Tamara learned several valuable lessons, and after thanking the janitor again, left the apartment building and got into a cab just a squad car rolled. Her cab speeding away, she fished her phone out of her purse and started calling her aunt. She needed to stop at home to shower and change, but would probably spend the day without underwear: it was nice and Tamara secretly REALLY like how it felt.

As the cab pulled away, another curvy black girl named Destiny walked in and started up the stairs. A rancid smell pierced her nose, and her own stomach gurgled a bit. "Oooo, good thing by boyfriend's toilet don't clog easy!" she thought. . . But that's another story for another time!