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The Diarrhea Cha-Cha (fiction)

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  • The Diarrhea Cha-Cha (fiction)

    Part one is more of an EFRO story than a panty pooping one. If you guys like it, I'll post up part two when it's done.

    We’ve probably all heard it at one time, probably on the playgrounds of our youth. The Diarrhea Song AKA The Diarrhea Chant AKA Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha has entertained generations of kids.
    But whit if it were just more than a stupid song about doodie to entertain the immature? What if there was some undiscovered magic in those simple words? And what if you could use it to make someone very, very uncomfortable?

    The Diarrhea Cha-Cha Part One






    The horn blared in the hot, sticky afternoon, startling the girls from their game of Double Dutch. Cindy, Ashley, Monica and Chloe looked up and saw the car, a new Mercedes convertible, shiny and black in the afternoon sun. Its occupant, an attractive young blond woman, blared the horn again. “C’mon! Move it you brats! I’m late as it is!”

    “What a fucking bitch,” Ashley whispered as the girls took their jump-ropes and back away so the Mercedes could zoom past them and swerve sharply into a space a little ways up the street. The driver, stylishly attired in a tight black sweater and leather skirt to accentuate her legs, tits and ass, exited quickly and shut the door, shooting the girls a nasty look as she activated the alarm. She took a moment to straighten her clothes and fix her hair a bit. If she noticed the girls approaching her, she didn’t acknowledge it.

    “Hey lady,” Cindy demanded, “How come you had to honk at us like that?”

    Christina sneered at them. She was already running late for her date, and she’d had to park three blocks away from Steve’s apartment. She was going to have to motor if they were going to make their reservations. She was certainly in no mood for kid crap. “Take a hike, you little wieners. I’ve got someplace to be.”

    To her annoyance, the girls only snorted derisively at her order. “Oh! Little Miss Big Shot’s in a hurry, guys!” Chloe jeered.

    “What’s the hurry, hot pants?” Monica laughed.

    “Late for a hot date I bet,” Cindy said, drawing giggles from the others.

    “Why don’t you go do your homework?!” Christina demanded furiously.

    “You old bitch!” Monica said defiantly. “I think we need to teach you a lesson, right girls?”

    “Hey! I’m only 27!” Christina said angrily.

    “I think granny’s a little ‘hot to trot,’ don’t you guys?”said Ashley.

    “I think she needs a mud-pie special,” Cindy agreed.

    “Right in her pants,” Chloe said, giggling with malevolent glee.

    “What are you little dorks talking about?”

    “You’ll see,” Cindy said, and she began to sing:

    When there's a rumblin' in your gut
    and you're trynna clench you butt

    The girls sang together:

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    Christina raised an eyebrow. “Charming. This is how you’re going to ‘teach me a lesson,’ stupid schoolyard chants about poop? I’m shaking!”

    But Ashley stepped forward and continued:

    When your stomach kinda hurts
    and you start to get the squirts

    The other girls joined in:

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    “Oh, this is absurd!” Christina fumed, starting down the street toward Steve’s place. She assumed the girls would get sick of their game and go back to their jump-rope. But the quartet followed her, Monica stepping forward to continue the song, accompanied by the other girls on the last two lines:

    When you’re sitting in your Chevy
    and you feel something heavy:

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    “I don’t even own a Chevy, you little nitwits!” Christina shouted at them. It was the strangest thing-- all of a sudden she wasn’t feeling very well…

    Behind her, the girls watched Christina’s mounting discomfort with gleeful smirks. Chloe stepped forward and sang, backed by her friends:

    When you’re sitting on a mountain
    and your butt becomes a fountain

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    “OK, that’s enough,” Christina said uncertainly. She was definitely feeling queasy now, and there was an ominous gurgling deep inside her… all in all, she didn’t like where this was headed.

    But the girls weren’t listening. Cindy stepped forward and started the cycle over again:

    When your stomach is in pain,
    and you're making chocolate rain

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    “Stop it!” Christina demanded. There was no denying it now. Whether or not the song had anything to do with it was irrelevant; she had to take a dump—urgently!

    The girls sang, led by Ashley:

    When you’re goin' to see your man
    and you're lookin’ for the can

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    “Oh God!” Impossible as it seemed, it was true-- somehow, someway, Christina’s urge to move her bowels was definitely getting more urgent with every line of that stupid song! “Stop it!” she demanded hotly, reaching around to press her hand up against her butt crack. She was scanning the horizon for a possible bathroom. Of course, a girl like Christina never EVER took a dump in public, but she was beginning to sweat now, her ass cheeks trembling behind her.

    Bingo! There, in the distance; that dirty corner store she’d always passed by with her nose in the air. She plowed through the door. Behind her, Monica took up the chant:

    Now you're getting in a state
    cos' you've left it very late

    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!
    Diarrhea Cha-Cha-Cha!

    Part One Continued

    Christina slammed the door behind her, drowning out the song. She baby-stepped stiffly toward the counter, her ass-cheeks clenched as tightly as they’d go. The girl behind the counter smirked; it was obvious there was a problem, and Kelly was pretty sure she knew what kind. Seeing this uptight bitch in dire-straights was pretty funny, and she had to fight to suppress a smirk as she approached. Sweating and bug-eyed, Christina crossed her ankles and tried to keep cool.

    “Do you have a restroom?” She asked quietly, hoping the two or three other customers wouldn’t hear.

    “The bathroom is for paying customers only ma’am,” Kelly said, a little too loudly.

    Fuming, Christina grabbed a pack of Double-Mint and tossed it on the counter. Inside, her intestines boiled painfully… she wasn’t sure how much longer she could contain the sloppy, messy, burning…

    She rifled her purse, pulling out a hundred and slapping it on the counter. Kelly scoffed. “I don’t have change for that.”

    Christina grabbed a soda from the stand and slammed it on the counter. Her asshole was steaming… if she’d ever had to go this badly before in her life, she couldn’t remember it.

    “Not enough,” said Kelly, trying to stifle a smile.

    “GGrrr!” Christina growled angrily—she had a feeling this little bitch was fucking with her, but she didn’t have any time to argue… Christina figured she could only control herself for about 90 seconds more, tops; after that, they’d need a serious clean-up in isle one. She took the latest Cosmo off the rack and slammed it on the counter.

    “Gonna need some reading material, huh?” Kelly smirked. Christina exhaled through flared nostrils.

    “Just ring it up!” she thundered.

    “That still ain’t enough,” Kelly said simply.

    Christina’s rage boiled over. “You little--!” She began, ready to go off on the little peasant.

    POOT! A short, loud toot issued forth uncontrollably like a single sickly note from an out of tune trumpet. Christina ceased her tirade, her anger instantly forgotten. Her eyes bulge and her lips formed a tight ‘O’: she hadn’t had an accident yet, but there was moisture between her cheeks. She knew she had mere seconds to make it to the toilet before she filled her panties.

    “Look, just take the money!” she pleaded desperately, shoving the bill at Kelly.

    “You want me to take this money to let you use our bathroom?” Kelly asked, playing dumb.

    “Yes, yes, oh please, God, yes!!”

    “Well… okay…” Kelly took the money and pointed to a hallway behind her. “It’s right there on the right—you can’t miss it.”

    “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” Christina said, elbowing her way past Kelly and scurrying as fast as she could past the cashier and into the hallway. In spite of her aching bowels, Christina managed a smile… relief was at hand.

    Her smile disappeared. “What the fuck is this?!”

    The bathroom was exactly where Kelly had said it was. Spacious and clean, with a nice sturdy toilet next to a single sink, its facilities were more than adequate except for one small detail.

    “Where’s the fucking door?!” Christina demanded loudly, as though she had just made a horrible mistake and it was just invisible or something.

    “It fell off,” Kelly said. “Is that a problem?”

    For a moment, Christina thought about ignoring her intestinal distress, stomping back into the store and booting Kelly straight in the ass. But the moment was fleeting, and when Christina felt her asshole beginning to dilate uncontrollably, she knew what she had to do.

    “Bitch!” She spat spitefully, baby stepping into the bathroom, unzipping her skirt along the way. Lifting the lid, she pushed down her skirt and panties in one motion, turned, and sat her dainty rump heavily onto the seat.
    A sound emerged unlike anything she had ever heard—a fart that sounded like a dump-truck struggling to start in an airplane hanger, combine with the sound of an avalanche of semi-solid poop literally shooting out of her ass, multiplied by the sound of a dumpster full of bowling balls being emptied into a pool from off the high-dive, in such rapid succession they seemed to have occurred simultaneously. Was that me? Christina stupidly thought, stunned into disbelief that she was even capable of anything so unladylike.

    She didn’t have time to ponder it for long, however—her stomach was immediately wracked with cramps again, and before she even had time to react she was involuntarily farting out another mushy mudslide into the rapidly filling toilet. The gassy, mushy torrent brought little relief; her stomach was still cramping sharply, and worst of all, her asshole was beginning to burn. Not only am I having diarrhea in public, she thought bitterly, I’m not even getting any relief from it!

    “Oh God!” She cried, anguished, stomach cramping painfully as she exploded once more, a cacophony of solid and liquid poop plopping noisily into the water, accompanied by a ghastly symphony of flatulence. Her anus dilated totally against her will, expelling rip-roaring farts and mushy torrents of diarrhea uncontrollably, with such force that there were moments she thought she would literally be blown from the seat and propelled into the air like she’d been shot out of a cannon.
    Another fart-powered, 12-gage shotgun blast of diarrhea came bursting from her ass, spattering the bowl below her.

    “Jesus!” she cried, brushing her sweat-matted hair from her eyes. She felt her guts rumbling, her bowels clenching, and her colon filling again. She tried frantically to clench her asshole, even as she knew it would be useless.”GodJesusAllahBuddha!” She cried, frantically appealing to the heavens. Her prayers were answered with a resounding fart and a gush of hot poop burning her ass and sliding noisily into the water below.

    “Help me!” she cried in desperation, her bowels voiding again, explosively involuntary, farting another installment into the water below like a howitzer. She stamped out a desperate rhythm on the floor, like she was running in place, desperately trying to run from her own ass. But escape was quite impossible, and Christina was forced to endure a full-fledged, F5, category 6, twelve course bowel movement with all the trimmings.

    (To be continued?)
    Last edited by thehigh; November 27, 2013, 05:07 PM.

  • #2
    Yes ! I want to see part 2

    Comment


    • #3
      part two

      20 minutes later

      After flushing while seated (twice) and a couple of false starts when she rose from the seat, thinking she was done, only to have to plop back down on the toilet for another round of volcanic diarrhea, Christina was sure she was finished. Sweaty, disheveled, her ass feeling like it was on fire, she reached toward the TP dispenser…

      …And felt her heart turn cold when her fingers came into contact with bare cardboard. She turned to confirm it, nearly screaming when she was greeted by the mocking site of an empty roll staring back at her.

      “No.” she said firmly, refusing to accept this cold reality. She twisted around on the toilet, searching high and low from atop her throne, getting increasingly desperate as it became obvious that there was no spare roll to be found. “No. No. No. No.” she repeated to herself, chanting, trying to change reality through sheer force of will.

      “WHERE’S THE FUCKIN’ TOILET PAPER?!?!?!” she finally demanded loudly, suddenly not caring that she was perched atop a toilet still filled with her own shit.

      Kelly appeared in the doorway, tying to stifle her giggles. She and the shoppers had heard every intimate moment of Christina’s epic bowel movement, and she knew it would be a struggle to talk to her with a straight face. “Is there a problem… OH MY GOD!” she gagged, fanning her face. “Eww! Biohazard!”

      Christina blushed, but still managed to thunder pompously from atop the toilet: “Never mind that! Where’s the Goddamn toilet paper?!”

      How anyone can manage to sound that entitled while they’re sitting on the pot with their pants around their ankles, I’ll never know, Kelly thought to herself. Pinching her nose shut, she addressed her royal highness: “It appears as though we’ve run out,” she said calmly, delighting in watching Christina fume on the potty.

      “I can see that, you idiot!” Christina snapped. “Get me some more, chop chop!”

      “Of course, ma’am—and how will you be paying for that?”

      Christina nearly rose up, ran across the room, and beat Kelly within an inch of her life, but somehow she maintained her cool. “You know I gave you all my money…” She fumed through clenched teeth.

      “Well, I hope you’ve got some Kleenex in that fancy Gucci bag of yours,” Kelly said breezily, turning and walking back onto the floor.

      Christina sat on the toilet, panties around her ankles, her asshole coated in hot, gooey poop, the stench of her own mess permeating the air. With a roar of frustration, she kicked the wall and pounded the counter-top with her fist.

      Once she’d calmed herself, Christina rooted through her bag, finding one measly, crumpled tissue stuffed way down on the bottom. Daintily, being careful not to irritate her sore and burning asshole, she cleaned herself as best as she could before dropping the thoroughly soiled Kleenex into the bowl and rose, gingerly raising her panties over her ass. She knew the tissue had barely put a dent into the mess caked around her anus, and her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as she pulled her expensive panties into place, knowing she was sure to wind up with a massive skid mark in their silken seat.

      Spitefully, she left without flushing, taking some small comfort in her petty revenge. But the warm feeling she got turned to cold humiliation when she emerged from the back to find that every eye in the store was on her. On the off chance they hadn’t heard her apocalyptic dump she’d just taken, they’d almost certainly heard her little toilet paper tantrum. Fixing her gaze on the floor, she walked out as quickly as she could, trying to ignore the stares and giggles as she passed.

      She stepped onto the street and peered around cautiously for her school-girl tormentors. Finding the coast clear, she continued toward Steve’s apartment. It was only a little ways, but Christina knew immediately that she was in for a long and uncomfortable walk. She was still all slimy and gooey with poop between her cheeks. Worse, it was starting to cool and harden, becoming uncomfortable and itchy-- She tried to resist, but soon she was discreetly trying to scratch her ass-crack through her skirt. But the material was too thick for her to be able to scratch effectively, and all she would up doing was wedging her panties between her well-sculpted buns, ensuring an even larger skid mark in the seat of her expensive silk panties.

      “Darling, where have you been?” Steve asked when he answered the door to let her in. Christina fixed him with a wan smile, but Steve was worried—he’d never seen her looking so out of sorts. Her hair was tangled, her face sweaty, her make-up smeared. She looked like she’d been in a war. “Are you OK? Here sit down,” he said, helping her over to the couch.

      “Thank you,” she said kindly, sitting slowly on the overstuffed couch. “It’s been a very trying…” she winced as her rump came into contact with the cushion, “…day,” she finished, not quite keeping the grimace from her voice. Her poor, sensitive little anus was still throbbing, but she could sit still for a while anyway.

      Her dirty, itchy butt-crack was another story—she twitched and wriggled her backside on the sofa, trying to relive the infernal itch between her cheeks subtly. When that proved unsuccessful, she took to scratching at it with her hand when Steve wasn’t looking—which wasn’t much help either. These panties are going to be destroyed, she thought bitterly.
      Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She almost leapt to her feet and started toward the bathroom. “I’m just going to—freshen up a bit!”

      “Oh, OK, but listen; don’t use the toilet, it’s broken; the Super is coming by to fix it while we’re gone.”
      She scurried inside, cursing her luck. She couldn’t wipe now, where would she put the used TP? She knew this was at least a half-a-roll kind of mess she had going on back there, she couldn’t risk Steve seeing it. And what about the Super? If he said something, Steve would know!

      At least she could survey the damage she’d done to her panties. She tugged down her skirt. Her panties had been wedged up her butt-crack good; she almost had to peel them out. She groaned—forget a skid-mark, it looked like she’d shit herself, emptied her panties into the toilet and put them right back on. The stain was visible from the outside, and on the inside was horrifying. Christina knew when she was licked—she was going to have to cancel the date, head home and regroup.
      She exited the bathroom. Steve was waiting on the couch for her. “Ready to go?” he asked, flashing his perfect smile.

      “Actually, Steve, I hate to do this to you, but I—wait, what’s that?” There was something outside some familiar noise she couldn’t name but still filled her with some nameless dread.

      “What?” he asked.

      “You don’t hear that?” she said, straining her ear. Yes, there it was… coming from the street. It almost sounded like…

      “Singing?” Christina asked no one in particular, going pale when she realized she knew what it was:

      When It's comin' out your bum
      like a bullet from a gun
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      “What?” Steve could hear it now, just a bit. “Where…”

      “SSHH!” She cut him off sharply.

      She bolted to the window and threw it open, the sound greeting her before she saw the four girls on the streets below, singing in front of the building like Christmas carolers:

      When you're looking at your shoes
      And your butt begins to ooze
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      “Oh God no!” Christina cried, her bowels already stirring to life inside her.

      “Christina? What’s wrong”

      “They found me! Oh God!” Her guts cramped, her bowels percolating violently.

      “It’s just kids…”

      “I gotta go!” she cried, making her way toward the door before it got even worse.

      “What? But what about--”

      “Gottagogottaheadachphonecallyoulaterbye!” she shouted over her shoulder and she ran out and slammed the door behind her.

      Clenching her ass tightly, she hobbled toward the elevator nearly screaming when she saw the sign taped to the front.

      “’Out of order’?! I just used it!”

      Her belly gurgled. Frantically, she baby stepped to the stairwell and began her long walk down.

      Slowly, one step at a time, she made her way down the five flights toward the ground floor. In her paranoia she was sure, somehow, that she could still hear that singing somewhere in the background:

      When you're sleepin in your class
      And shit leaks out your ass
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      Wincing, she farted, all wet and bubbly, echoing loudly in the stairwell. She clenched her ass against her cramping guts and stood stock still, straining to get her bowels under control again before she pressed forward. Perspiration ran down her face, and she felt one fat bead gather at the small of her back and hang there for a moment before trickling down her butt crack like the tip of a cool finger, making her shiver.

      When you're seeing polka dots
      And you start to get the trots
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      With a shiver, she pressed on again, her stomach gurgling and grumbling audibly. The singing was distant, but she could still hear it—and it was definitely still affecting her.

      She hobbled down to the gowned floor as fast as her tightly clenched buttocks would allow. Periodically she would fart loudly, crinkling her nose at the musty, rotten odors that emerged.

      Finally, she reached the lobby. Her stomach burbling and bubbling, she waddled toward the back door, not wanting to run into her school age tormentors. She heard them take up the chant once more:

      When you're lookin at a map
      And your pants fill up with crap
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      She gasped, her stomach protesting loudly. Christina felt her belly pooching out, her guts filling with noxious gas, bubbling and boiling angrily. She reached down to rub it gently, like it was an angry animal she was trying to sooth.

      She tottered down the back alley on her stilettos. Behind her, the singing had gone quiet. Christina grinned through her desperation. Had they given up? She smiled weakly… she was still desperate, still had another load of explosive diarrhea inside her, but as long as it didn’t get any worse, she wouldn’t have any trouble holding it until she got home. Her biggest concern now was the state of her panties, surely almost as messy now as they would have been if she’d had an accident. 80 bucks down the drain, she thought bitterly, reaching the end of the alley. Now it was just a couple of blocks and she’d be on her way…

      When your tummy’s feeling funny
      and your pants are hot n’ runny
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      Christina screamed, pivoting so quickly she nearly toppled. She was greeted by Cindy, Ashley, Monica and Chloe, each one grinning like a demon. Instantly, her bowels roared to life angrily, pushing out a meaty fart, making her ass vibrate.

      When you think you just passed gas
      but it’s wet inside your ass
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      “Oh God, please stop!” she begged. The little brats were right about one thing—a great deal of “moisture” had gathered in her ass-crack, and she was sure it wasn’t all from not being able to wipe earlier—that last fart had been a little more than just gas! She pressed her hands against her rump and stepped in place in a desperate jig. “What do you want from me!?”
      But the girls just smirked, continuing their song:

      When you do the poo-poo dance
      and there's wetness in your pants
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      Turning, Christina hobbled toward her car as quickly as her clenched buttocks would carry her. The girls trailed after her, easily keeping up. They were in no hurry—it was inevitable now.

      When you’re running down the road
      and you can’t control your load
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      Christina felt the pressure build, this time to seemingly impossible levels. She strained, flexing her asshole with all her might, putting all of her strength into one last heroic effort to keep her panties clean…

      It was a wasted endeavor—a gross, slimy, tuba-blast fart emerged totally beyond her control, and she felt her anus overwhelmed. She gave a helpless grunt, her final efforts to regain control pitiably inadequate, as she felt a wave of diarrhea explode out of her ass, instantly filling her panties.

      “AAhh!” She cried, her relief far outweighing her embarrassment—for the moment, anyway. Behind her, she could hear the girls singing their song again; she tensed herself against their voices:

      When you’re acting like a fool
      and your pants fill up with stool
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      A strong, almost painful crampy-bloat grew in her bowels, followed immediately by a loud fart and another hot, muddy geyser from between her cheeks. Christina could only stand stiffly, her mouth a tight ‘O’ of surprise, as she involuntarily took a huge, wet dump into her panties. She wouldn’t have thought she had much left inside her after the last round… but as further installment slithered from her anus with a sizable fart, overflowing her panties and trailing down the backs of both thighs, she knew she’d miscalculated.

      The seat of her panties and pantyhose pressed the load tightly against her ass, and it was only then that it was beginning to burn the delicately plump flesh of her buttocks, searing her skin like toxic waste.

      Some folks might think it's funny
      but it's really brown and runny
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      “Oh my God!” She screeched, a powerful, sustained cramp forcing out another wave of sticky brown mush. Christina stood stock still, stepping in place helplessly as she felt her buttocks part in order to accommodate another steaming, messy gush. She farted, a noisy, squishy bubbling, like a large pot of thick stew boiling on the stove. “EEEWWW!” she cried, the mess pushing it way out of her panties and oozing down the backs of her thighs like mud.

      By now a sizable crowd had gathered to gawk and snicker at Christina’s misfortune, some laughing outright as she dumped a huge poopy mess into her underwear. Vividly aware of the spectacle she was making of herself, she struggled desperately to regain control. But all of her mighty straining and tightening was quite useless, and Christina could only pathetically moan and mew as she emptied her bowels into her underwear with an almost musical series of farts and squishes.

      Listening to Christina fill her pants with the mucky mess that was currently trailing all the way down the backs of her thighs and closing in on her kneecaps, the audience took a collective step back. Almost all of them were laughing, and some were taking pictures. Christina’s cramps had subsided; she was now pushing out nothing but farts (which sounded messier than they really were passing through the already nasty muck packed into her panties.)

      She stood in the street, feet apart to keep her balance, mushy, smelly mess trailing down the back of her legs, clearly visible below the hem of her skirt, heaving to catch her breath. The stench of her mess enveloped her thoroughly, arid and rotten in her nostrils. It wafted off of her potently, and Christina was humiliated when she realized everyone in her line of sight was holding their nose or fanning their faces.

      Through her haze of humiliation, Christina’s flight or fight response kicked in—shoving her way through the crowd, she took off down the street, waddling toward her car as fast as she could in her heavily loaded panties. But she’d only made it a little ways before:

      Now you think you’re feeling better
      but your butt is getting wetter
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      There was an instant pressure, a sickly gurgle, and then a sudden relief. Christina heard herself fart loudly, felt another load of hot of sludge gush flatulently from between her butt-cheeks. She gave a liquidly moan, dipping slightly on one leg and sticking out her rump behind her to help ease the passage of more diarrhea into her ruined panties and pantyhose. Through it all she barely slowed down, sharting out little jets of poopy mush with each pump of her legs.

      Finally, she’d made it to her car. She ripped the door open, frowning when she realized that her poopy rump would almost certainly ruin her upholstery. Frantically, she looked for something to cover the seat. She spotted a discarded newspaper in the gutter. Snatching it up, she hurriedly spread the out over the seat. Slowly, carefully, she lowered her butt, totally caked in mushy brown poop, toward the seat. “Ooo!” She couldn’t help squealing a bit when her rounded buttocks first made contact, the mess squishing further down her legs and spurting up between her ass-cheeks. “AH!” she gave a little moan as she settled her full weight, feeling the load slowly compress beneath her.

      She slipped the key into the ignition and turned, just as Cindy, Ashley, Monica and Chloe suddenly materialized beside her:

      When you're shifting into gear
      And something starts to smear
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      “OOhhh!” Christina cried. She didn’t even try to restrain herself, content to make silly faces as she once again involuntarily defecated into her already super messy underwear, the mess exploding flatulently from between her cheeks. She was helpless to do anything but grunt and squeak as the mess flowed out of her rump and filled her pants, literally lifting her dainty bottom on a cushion of poop. Stiffly, trying to minimize the movement of her rear end, Christina shifted into gear and took off down the street. She grimaced, the slight vibration of the car’s engine squishing the load around even further, until she was sure every nook and cranny had been slathered by it. She went up a ways, flipped a u-turn, and came back, past the girls and the laughing, jeering audience. “I’ll come back you know!” she thundered as she passed. “I’ll come back, and we’ll see who looks smart then! I’ll get you! I’ll get you all!”

      But the girls just waved as she passed, grinning as they left her with one final line of their song:

      When you’re driving down the road
      and you’re butt tries to explode
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!
      Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha!

      Christine screamed and stomped the gas, the car accelerating off into the distance as she uncontrollably filled her panties with poop one final time.

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