A Nurse's Delight

I'm looking after Mindy tonight. She's been in a coma for seven months, now. Today was her fifteenth birthday. An extra special girl deserves an extra-special time. She should be having the time of her life, when she's stuck up here in intensive care.

I love my patients like nothing else. Looking after their every need is such a treat. Nurturing their young bodies to health is a wholesome joy. I've given sweat, blood, and tears for them. And what makes it all worth it – the long nights, the insomnia, the vigilance – is the look of joy and appreciation on their sweet, little faces; their weak, grateful voices, their pure vitality that keeps me going on forever more. I accept them completely. Yes, no-one will. That's why, starting tonight, I'm going to give them the love they've been denied! And they shall love me in return. We will create a true miracle… our own reality, where we can love and be loved in return!

My poor, sick girls. No-one else will truly love them for the pure angels they are, I remind myself, as I sniff at the bulge in Mindy's diaper, taking in the pungent, rich odour squelching in-between her smooth, nubile ass-cheeks. Her heart monitor beeps, her heart inviting me.I lift up her slightly-plump legs and open the garment all the way. Oh, the smell is so much stronger without a layer of fabric in the way! I lick my lips with delight at the mess which has splattered her bottom and diaper. It's a delicious, light, caramel colour; a trickling, mushy treat, just for me. I give it a touch – it feels so warm and soft. A lovely texture. My breath smells since I just had a smoke, but she doesn't seem to mind. In my mouth my finger goes. Mmm, it tastes exquisite! Salty, bitter, sweet, earthy, all in one. Yes, I'm not making a mistake. This is a taste I can bring myself to love!

“Please…. lick me clean” she says without moving her lips. Voicelessly, she talks to me and me alone. I oblige, bending down to lick her diaper first, licking where the mess smudged onto her pee. I hesitate at first. The taste is so overpowering, so bitter, even more bitter with every taste, though the after-taste of cigarettes takes the edge off the worst of it. So fresh, I could enjoy this seasoning. Curried faeces, and they're all for me. “Lick me,” she says, even though I'm not done with her underwear. My stomach grumbles. This is my main meal for tonight. I'll just have to take her diaper home for breakfast! It's as I start licking at the main course, the fresh, brown mess, that I start to feel the burden. Some gas erupts from my stomach - a filthy, sickening belch! I lap at the filth that has smudged to the bottom of her pussy first, my tongue wiping her bulging, naive, labia clean of any trace of shit or pee. Her pussy and my tongue are no strangers; I've pleasured her several times this week. She's always tasted nicely fishy for a girl ten years my junior, but this is amazing. Curried, fishy filth all in one! I give it a rich sniff. Ahhh! God, I have to lick it up. “Ooh… it tickles,” comes her innocent, adolescent voice. Her sensual, virginal musk smells stronger now her slit is clean. Oh, dear, your desires can wait. It feels like I'm going to barf this all up whole. My stomach growls in a pained way; my gut feels bloated, even, and my heart is pounding. I can't help but give a faeces-smelling belch over her crotch, but she doesn't mind that, either. Now I turn my attention to the mess below. I can't even see her hole since she cacked herself so badly. The stench is most potent here. Faeces caked in-between her buttocks. Now I can tell, she's gotten a bit tubby around her bottom. Perhaps I put a bit too much into her feed, but I think I'll keep her this way; nice, soft, comfy, just how I want her.

Even as my stomach protests, I dig my tongue inside her dirtied crevice, lapping up a big, mushy clump which is soured to the tip. It's an orgasm of pungent filth. No, I won't let myself puke. I'm going to eat it all. Holding her ass tight, I mull and chew and gnaw at the mess in my mouth. Actually tasting a whole lump is different to licking up smudges. The lump breaks into smaller lumps which I feel staining my teeth and mushing against my tongue. Pure heaven, I tell myself, as I force myself to swallow each and every one. With that, the pain in my gut turns critical. As I retch and belch the odour of fermenting faeces within me, I know I could vomit violently at any moment. But this won't stop me. I'll bear it. I have to put on a strong face, for her. “It's alright… the taste is just a bit rich, sweetie!”
The heart monitor, I realise, is beeping just a bit faster. Her pussy is glistening, sensual juices dripping down to mix with her filth. I lap it up some more. So sensual. So sweet. I dip my mess-smeared tongue on the sides of her damp slit. “Thank you, sweetie, it makes it just that bit nicer.” Good enough for me to bear this… one more lump of excrement, and a lick, and I'll be done. I curl my tongue around the brown, bitter-sweet chunk of filth, garnished in her fresh, sweet oils. I don't even chew. I just have to be a trooper, and swallow it whole. With one hard, forced gulp, I feel the lump bulge in my throat, and burp loudly, sticky shit-mucus gurgling on the back of my tongue. “All done!” She kisses my lips with a contented, hissing fart when I give her asshole one last peck. “You really don't,” *hic* “mind the fag breath?”

Retching violently and painfully, I realise that if I'd reached the toilets a moment later, I'd have emptied my stomach contents all over the corridors. Somehow I wouldn't like to have to explain why my vomit smells worse than rotting corpses. Oh my. I feel it coming. Solid, dense, I can't remember feeling this sick since the norovirus outbreak! So light-headed, I can't breathe or even see, as the thick waste forces its way out, burning my throat, stinging my sinuses. It's too much! Every convulsion of my sickening gastric pulp makes me prone to vomiting even more.

Yet, this is the burden I must bear for you, my sweet little angel. Exhausted, I wipe my mouth of the fetid bile – predictably, the foul burps will remain for quite a while after that, seasoning my breakfast, lunch and tea. My other girls, you'll have to wait until next time. When I go back, I finish the job, nursing her deeply, passionately, like no-one has before, until she moans rapturously.

A few nights after, when I'm minding the ward alone again, It's the turn of another sweet, pale cherub named Rosie, with black, shoulder-length hair and green eyes, who was very insistent she be allowed to wear a head-band during her stay. Now, Rosie is often lucid and wide awake; she broke her spinal cord, not her brain-stem. As she sleeps soundly, I send her into a deeper sleep with a dose of anaesthesia – such a deep sleep that she won't be able to talk to me from her dreams. She's so calm and angelic, I realise, as I kiss her cheek. “That's it, sweetie, I'll make it all better tonight.” Her lithe frame is so delicate, so inviting - a fact only exaggerated by the bulge below her crotch, a mound which makes a squelch as I touch the fabric. Kneeling on the bed, I bend over inbetween her legs, and take a deep whiff. It smells mild compared to last night's potent mixture. Perhaps I'll be able to hold it in this time. I have to. This time, I strip down to my undies, showing off my slightly curvy assets… my little potbelly is all too clear. It's a mother's belly, isn't it?

I open her diaper wide, licking my lips at the light brown treacle which adorns the curve of her bottom, not even touching her youthful, un-broken pussy lips. To the rhythm of the cardio monitor, I give Rosie's sweet, innocent pussy one great big, sloppy kiss, right before taking a hearty lick of the treat laid out before me. Delightfully, it's immediately sweet to the taste! Mindy's rich, spicy mulch – though exquisite in its own way – has nothing on this for sheer palatability. I lick and lick and lick, without hesitation, at every drip. It's a shame there's rather less from this girl, but that's to be expected, from her size. It's not long before I've swallowed the whole lot, and after a loud, sickly belch, I lap at her buttcheeks. That's it, I'm going straight for the mushy cack-cake. I have to, if I'm to build up my tolerance. Even though the residual bitterness is starting to bite, I lap at the syrup of filth cupped in the cleft of her ass. Thanks to its consistency, I can scoff it down without even chewing. Every gulp makes me feel a little bit sicker, yet I can handle this, I know it. Even though it makes me feel ill, it would have to be a very vile, gut-wrenching mixture to force me to let go of it again. It's disgusting, but I want it inside me. What will it be like, re-digesting this girl's waste? I finally lick the last sliver of filth clean and swallow it whole, then rub my leg against her. If she's denied pleasure by the damage to her body, then I'll feel it for her. I turn her on her side and pull off my panties.

Oh, sweetie, you're so warm. My pussy grinds against hers, already wet, already dripping with my own juices. You can have them all, as a memento. The pleasure spurs me on so fast, I'm humping her pussy. I feel an unfamiliar moisture blending with my own, seeping onto my labia. So your parts do work. All the better. Like Mindy's, her heartbeat increases, the rhythm of the cardio monitor exciting me even more. Yes, my sweet thing, enjoy it! Feverishly intoxicated with sex and filth, we both come hard that night.

The following day and night, I belch up a putrid storm of stomach farts, their potency so much that the taste sticks to my tongue more than the richest tobacco I've ever smoked. Every burp makes me more excited. I want more of it – I want to be the vessel of these girls' divinity! My resistance has to grow. So, no matter how hard my stomach grumbles, I'll keep it down. A stomach full of feminine waste, so queer! And full it's going to stay for a while longer, I realise. I haven't been to the toilet properly since the other night.

A mild bout of constipation won't stop Gemma from her turn. Just slightly older and taller than Mindy, she's quite a heavyset little dumpling; she has quite a large pot-belly, and a larger bottom; her thighs are thick and rosy-pale. I give her a nice squeeze, and treat her much like the other girls.

This time, I spread her over onto her belly so I can get a full view, her ass and thighs meaty and doughy enough that I can't lift them properly when she's on her back. As I do this, she lets off a boisterous, rasping fart, making the filth around her asshole bubble a little bit. Her ass is moister and warmer than the others' – I just want to bury my face in it, forever, I think, as I lick her clean of the delicious, dark brown waste which is smeared over her asshole worse than before. In her deep, comatose sleep, she thanks me from the depths of her heavy, flab-laden chest. My, dear, your waste is so potent! Yet my gagging reaction feels weaker. The spices from her bottom are so invigorating, I take a deeper whiff, drawing her odour into the pit of my lungs. Yet you're still plugged up, my dear. Let me help.

I fill an enema syringe – and a rather large one at that - with clear, saline solution right up to the maximum level. Into your plump, cuddly arse it goes, sweetie. Parting her cheeks and holding her anus open with scissor fingers, I slide the end straight into her insides. She twinges a bit, her subconscious reaction to foreign object being shoved in her bottom; the lukewarm solution makes her pulsate even more, her bowels filling, slowly. Yes, my dear, feel your belly swell up… I pat her tubby gut as the fluid penetrates her colon. Her rectum is surely full by now, and the syringe is empty. Time for another. I'm not going to stop. It starts to become clear just how over-filled dear Gemma has become. Her gut is bulging, taut with fat cells and excreta. The contents of her bowels gurgle loudly. The swelling seems exponential with every drop I add. My my. You look like you could take more.

“Please…. fill me to the brink!” She broadcasts her innermost desire with conviction.

Well, okay, sweetie. I'll give you the biggest shit you'll ever have. I might have done it twice or thrice more, I can't remember. Her belly was full to the brim,to the point that stretch marks – more of them than before - line her flabby stomach, a sign that she's ready to pop! The last syringe of enema tests her to the limit. I give her the whole lot, even though she's precariously close… her stomach gurgles, drooping painfully, while her heart pounds, the unbearable mass within pressing upon her internal organs, to the point that bile flows from her mouth. Ahh yes, dear, you're ready. I spread her legs wide, her bottom up in the air, for the grand finale. The ashen hue of her impossibly bloated gut betrays Gemma's desperation. I bury my face inbetween her wide cheeks. “Let it all out, sweetie”.

She does. I'm practically bathing in it, ahhh! This mega diarrhoea, this torrent of excrement! My face is your toilet, dear! Again, consciousness floats over my head, the pure stink intoxicating by its very essence. Inhaling deep, I let it flow into my mouth, into my nostrils, brown putrescence. Dizzy. So dizzy. Mushroom, cabbage, urine, shallot, earth, corn, rotten meat, bitterness itself, it tastes like everything foul. It is your gift, to me, my dear angel! Please forgive me for touching myself, are words I can't even mouth, as her manure fills me up. The anti-emetics flowing through my veins, it seems, are working well at keeping the vomit at bay. I made sure to take double dose… they make me dizzy, but I won't be throwing anything up any time soon! The wet faeces marinate in my mouth, every swallow making them taste stronger and stronger. Soon, I'm past the limit of impossibility. My waters trickle through my panties, warm urine trickling down my legs, onto the floor; I can't stop it, and neither can Gemma stop her hell-spawn.

By the time we're done, my belly is extremely swollen, and my face and my mouth are utterly filthy. I snort and choke a little at the vile love that has penetrated my nostrils, my sinuses, and even my lungs. Horrible, lovely taste that makes you want to die. My clothes are soaked! With that disgusting shit that makes life so good. Good thing that I brought a change of clothes. To hide my love of deadly, toxic filth. I pat my belly. Filled with raw, painful poisons. Even with the copious leakage, my lips an imperfect seal, the majority of her filth has made it inside me. I'm keeping it safe. I won't ever let it go. Now, let me lick everything clean. My tongue does the grunt work, keeping the rich, incredibly bitter taste fresh. I clean everything up even with my belly pregnant with anathema.

The last night was close, but I managed to clean it all up, and wipe the footage. Their love makes it worthwhile. It's hard, carrying this around. It's starting to kill me… I can feel it in my body, festering constantly. As I look in the mirror, nursing my bump, I notice that my stretch marks are turning a shade of green, the same colour tint that shows through the skin of my painfully distended gut. This is my burden. Is this what I've been blessed with? I know now, that I will never poop again, and not just because of the plug within my arse. My anus has surely fused shut, my intestines now nothing more than a vessel.

I keep eating. And eating. My diet is nothing but these girls' excrement, now; my belly is growing massive, and so does the taint. The other nurses are definitely noticing, asking when it's due, remarking on such a well-kept secret. Any time soon, I tell them, and no I won't stop working! Never, ever, while I've got patients to serve. Even my yellowing, jaundiced eyes won't stop me.

Soon, I'm forced to waddle everywhere. I appear heavily pregnant, ready to pop at any moment. I'm prone to peeing suddenly, unexpectedly, and at the most inconvenient moment. If I bend down, my bladder forces everything out! That's why I've decided to wear the same diaper as my dear patients. Yet even that cannot keep at bay the stink of my urine which sags and squelches inbetween my thighs. The taint of sewage and corpses is extending to every orifice of my body, more so than the smell of cigarettes – a smell which often taints even the pussy!

As an aside, I smoke even more frequently now. Realising my fate, it isn't going to matter whether I puff on one cigarette a day, or twenty. Every time, my co-workers reprimand me for not thinking of the baby, and every time, I laugh in their faces. The time it will take is beyond my expiry date...

Two weeks pass, and on this particular shift, something seems off. By now, my toxic, mega-sized colon has added one hundred pounds to my frame, its dense mass upsetting my centre of gravity. My intestines are festering, so much that I can hardly feel what goes on inside these days; yet it isn't my belly that disturbs me, but the words daubed, in brown, festering shit, across my locker door.

“SHIT NURSE.”

I've been caught, haven't I? It's over. It's over, and I'll never be able to see these girls again…. This is horrible, horrible! The possibilities run through my mind. I always spray myself with powerful deodorant. Surely they can't catch the scent through that. Heck, I realise, I haven't even seen any of the other staff… for the past few nights, or maybe more. Do they avoid me now? Do they find my baby and I that obnoxious? Bitches. But why are there no police? Surely I'd be in cuffs now, if the others so much as got a word. They're playing games with me, I know it! I wipe away my tears. I'll show them what being a nurse really means… loving and caring for your patients, to the end.

I haven't much time at all. My gut becomes harder and harder to bear every day… I don't know how much more I can hold; yet their filth is my sole source of sustenance. Any other food is sickening now. Raw sewage will be the only thing I eat until the end of my life... Mindy's taste has grown on me, especially. I appreciate her rich spices now. So tangy, earthy, and sticky! I lick my fingers and… I find myself not even caring about what others will think of the smell! What others? I'm the only adult left in this entire block!

I know now, something fundamentally altered the moment I read the message in my locker. The atmosphere changed. Could it be… that we're so far gone, that we're neither here nor there? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Then we have crossed the threshold. Normal rules, the restraints of reality, no longer apply. My girls, we are free! Taking advantage of such new-found liberty, I gleefully throw off all my uniform, except my underwear – lacy black bra and panties – exposing my faeces-inflated gut, its glorious brown-green discolourations and purple striations… free to spread even more. I give all my sleeping beauties a big, soppy kiss. We are bound no longer, by the observation of others. Oh, what's this? Does my body seem a bit fleshier? My arse feels bigger. Not immensely so, but it's getting too tight for my panties. I've grown a cup size, too! Oh, how glorious; and my arms, too. I am maternally bountiful. Yes, my body seems to have thickened, almost simulating the blooming of a pregnant woman. Well, that's because I am. My body is joyously soft.

My freedom comes with a great price. I wheel all the girls' beds into one ward; soon, under the weight of my burden, I'll be confined to a wheelchair myself. My gut is so enormous, so full with my overflowing intestines. Soon, Shalah…