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Hello all, here is another story. As before, feedback is encouraged. This one may have run a little long, and maybe needed an editor, but it turns me on, so hopefully it will do it for someone else here too.
---
Leah had been doing this for a long time, and she knew her body well. She knew
what it could take, and more importantly, what it couldn't take.
That didn't mean she got to test those limits often. Her boyfriend, Sam,
wasn't a fellow pants pooper. She had introduced him to wetting after they had
been dating for a few months, but even now, after living together for almost
three years, she hadn't told him about her other habit. She told herself it was
better this way. When she did it by herself, she was free to push whatever
limits she wanted, and she was free from the shame of seeing herself through
his eyes.
And maybe he was the one, and maybe she would carry her secret to the grave.
She was ok with that.
They hadn't been dating for very long when Sam lost his job, and she had
invited him to move into her cozy duplex in Queens. It was probably too early
in their relationship to move in together, but Leah had more space than she
needed, and Sam was feeling shaken after being laid off -- not to mention
hurting for cash. So she invited him in, and they became very close, and that
pretty much spelled the end of her zipless pants pooping.
But for years before that, she had been as free as anyone could ask for. As a
freelance writer, she would spend her days at home, and many of those days she
would spend sitting in her own filth. Even when she ate normally, Leah had
always been a prolific defecator. In the morning, she would wake up, plop
herself down at her desk with her computer, a bowl of cereal, and a cup of
coffee, and not get up again until mid afternoon.
She liked to make her first mess while she was cooking her oatmeal. Maybe
fifteen minutes after she'd first gotten up, still in her pajamas, she would
feel the pressure in her bladder and bowels. Standing over a towel while she
stirred the oatmeal, she would relax her bladder open and wet herself
deliciously. A moment later, she would be ready for the next step, and by
lightly bearing down she would squeeze out the first small BM of the morning.
It was always hard and nearly odorless, and it would nestle lightly between
her butt cheeks, reminding her what she'd done with each movement she made.
At this point she would usually kick off her pajama pants and pull on a pair
of jeans or slacks over her soiled panties. Then she would sit down and get to
work.
Just as she finished her coffee, she would start to feel a strong urge come
on. She tried to make a game of whether she could relieve herself without
interrupting her typing. She would relax, still trying to focus on the
computer screen, and feel the beginning of what was usually her largest poo of
the day start to ease out into her pants. Some days she would sit there,
feeling it slowly ooze out, slowly filling the space available until it
couldn't go any further without standing up. Other days, she would skip that
step and lightly lift her ass off the seat, push hard, and fill her pants in
one go, while also emptying her bladder. Settling down slowly, she would go
back to typing (she never was able to do it without interrupting her train of
thought for at least a little bit) while she gradually finished pissing
herself.
Finally, around 1 in the afternoon, she would need it again. She would be
winding down her daily 500 words, and she liked to wait until she was done so
she could really enjoy it. As soon as she typed the last word, she would hit
save, stand up -- feeling the weight of her morning's other accomplishments
already in her pants -- take a deep breath, and push out everything she could.
She loved the feeling of it coming out both sides at once, and her shit piling
on top of what was already there while her piss ran down her legs. She would
hover over her chair then, her butt often six inches off the seat, but the
pile beneath her was touching it, pushing slightly on her behind. Then she
would slowly, delicately rub her clit through her pants, her legs starting to
quiver as they grew tired of holding her up, until they got so tired they
couldn't help but lower her down, squishing her mess out beneath her. She
would time it so she came just as her butt finally came all the way down, and
she could feel the poop maneuvering around her curves as her vagina spasmed
and her back arched.
She would sit there quivering a few minutes, and usually pee a bit more in her
sodden pants before she cleaned up.
There were endless variations on this pattern, and many other games she liked
to play, but that had been her routine, often two or three times a week.
Then there was Sam, and he was around all the damn time. He got a job as a
bartender while he was looking for other work, so he was always home during
prime pooping hours. Leah once held it in all day so she could go in her pants
after Sam left at 5. But she was so nervous that she had a hard time enjoying
it after she had done it. She just knew he would forget something or get home
early for some reason. She cleaned up as quickly as she could, and good thing
-- he got home after only a little over two hours. Turned out his boss had
booked too many bartenders for the night, and he had been sent home. From then
on, any time she was tempted to try to get away with something, she remembered
that night.
After nearly a year, he finally got a day job, and Leah was able to
occasionally indulge herself. It was never quite the same as when she was on
her own, but at least some of that pent up energy was sometimes able to
release into her pants.
And then, finally, the holy grail: Sam was asked to take a job within his
company that involved traveling to other branches to train employees. A week
out of every month would be spent at some far-flung locale. Leah knew exactly
what she would be doing during those times.
---
The first trip was set for early October, when Sam would be driving down to
Philadelphia, and Leah's fantasy life was swirling with the possiblities of
her week. Sam noticed her libido seemed to have shot up over the previous
month, to the point that he commented on it one day when she jumped him right
after he got home from work. "You're going to miss me, huh?"
He assumed she was trying to get in all her fucks for the month in the week
before he left, and she was fine with him thinking that. She *would* miss him,
of course. But she had also missed the feeling of releasing herself, of
wallowing in her naughtiness. It was like a great old friend was coming to
stay with her while Sam was away so she wouldn't be lonely.
Sunday came, and Leah helped pack Sam's garment bag. She laughed at all the
suits -- "my *business* man!" -- and waved goodbye as he pulled out to the end
of the block.
Then she waited. An hour. Two hours. Then she called him. He was almost there.
Ran into a bit of traffic just outside the city. He'd call when he checked in
to the hotel.
She felt an enormous relief right at that moment. It was really going to
happen! She felt her bowels loosen, and she ws keenly aware, then, that she
hadn't yet sat on the toilet that day. She closed her eyes, and pissed through
her jeans, letting a puddle form on the floor. She held her bowels though; she
was going to have fun today. Dropping her pants, she toweled herself off,
threw on new jeans, and casually tossed her wet things in the washing
machine.
Her plan: she would not use the toilet until Sam got home Friday night. She
needed supplies.
---
Squirming a bit with a comforting discomfort, Leah took a duffel bag and
hopped on the 7 train. Her first stop was the drug store. Metamucil cookies,
glycerin suppositories, "get regular" tea. Then she went to the medical supply
store. Diapers weren't always her thing, but with what she had planned,
sometimes they would be necessary. She had spent an embarassing amount of time
researching the brands available at this store, and had found some that had
all around positive reviews. "They minimize smell better than any brand my
mother has tried," said one, "Sometimes, my uncle soaks them several times
before asking to be changed," said another. Leah always wondered how many of
the reviews were actually written by people who enjoyed using them themselves.
Then, with everything safely packed away in her bag, and her gut complaining
more and more, she went to the grocery store.
The plan was to keep things as firm as possible and as voluminous as possible,
so Leah went with a variety of food that she expected to have different
effects. Hamburgers, kale, brown rice, white rice, cheese, eggs, potatoes,
lentils, ice cream... with the fiber supplements she was going to be going *a
lot* so she needed to make sure she was eating big meals throughout the day.
In the checkout line she almost lost it. Just standing there was what did it.
Not that she was actually going to lose control -- that would wait until the
end of the week, if she executed things properly. But she was trembling and
aching to just let go. By the time she got to the train, she was starting to
think of how she could relieve herself before she got home.
She chose a subway car that was near the end of the platform, where there were
usually fewer people, and she lucked out. There was one couple near one end of
the car, and an older man about halfway. She chose the empty end of the car,
and plopped down on the seat with all her stuff, finally relaxing her bowels
as their contents were held in by the hard seat.
She was sweating, and desperately wanted to push everything out, but she had
to wait. There were two more stops in Manhattan, and if no one sat near her
after that, she would be free to let loose as the train crossed the bridge.
She almost panicked when two people got on at the last stop, but they sat in
the middle of the car. As the doors closed, Leah lifted herself gently off the
seat, and pushed ever so slightly. The contents of her bowels, which had felt
so desperate to escape before, now eased out under moderate pressure, slowly
filling the available space. As that space ran out, she push harder, and felt
it spread underneath her. She wasn't finished, but her pants were pleasantly
full, and she had done as much as she dared. She let herself settle back into
her seat and felt the contents of her pants spread and shift. Leah sighed.
With her stop next, Leah stood up and gathered her things. She glanced down
the car and realized that someone else had gotten on, probably while she was
soiling herself. Her face burned, but it didn't seem like anyone was looking
at her. So she gave another push and fully emptied herself just as the doors
opened. She felt like she might faint, but she managed to get herself out onto
the platform with her shopping bags. She staggered over to the nearest bench
and sat herself down. The platform was empty. Thank God for Sundays.
By the time she got home, she was ready to pee, and also to relieve herself in
other ways. She lay in the tub and pissed herself slowly, then brought herself
to a lovely orgasm.
---
She cooked a big meal for herself that night, wetting herself a few more times
in the process. She downed a metamucil cookie and glass of milk. Before bed
she did another load of laundry, and then got dressed for bed. She chose her
pajama pants carefully, and spoke to them as she put them on: "Boy, you guys
are going to get it."
---
The next day Leah did her old routine, working all morning and not leaving her
desk. She had missed it so much she cried when she came right after going in
her pants for the third time that morning. Sitting there in her lovely, sodden
jeans, panting for breath, she gulped back tears and wondered if she had done
the right thing two years earlier when she invited Sam to move in. And then
her phone rang.
"Sam, hi!" She wiped the tears away and smiled, as if he could see her and she
had to put on a brave face. He sounded energetic, "Hi! Just taking a lunch
break. How was your morning?"
Now she was annoyed. It was bad enough that he was there all the time, but
even when he was two states away he had to butt in.
"Oh, good, I guess. Writing."
"You OK?" Give him that, he knew her well.
"Yeah, yes. Fine. It was just an intense writing session. I'm working through
some pretty dark material right now."
"Oh, you want me to leave you alone?"
She choked a little, "Yeah, I think I need some time to recover." He was
quiet, so she went on, "call me tonight?"
"Sounds good, love you..."
After they hung up she felt her shoulders relax again. She banished Sam from
her mind by emptying her bladder again. There was something wonderful about
pissing into already full pants, and she wiggled a little as the pee worked
its way through the contents of her extremely full pants and onto the floor.
She had had a truly huge breakfast of oatmeal, an apple, three eggs, a glass
of milk, and a metamucil, and now she downed a glass of water with another
fiber cookie before cleaning herself up.
---
The rest of the day was diapers and eating. There was only so much cleanup she could
stand at one time, so instead of adding to the wash every time she needed to
pee, she just kept on her disposable underwear for the rest of the day. It was
true what the reviewer had said -- she peed and peed, drank water like crazy,
and the diaper didn't leak until she was preparing dinner. She started to wet
herself while she was pulling braised chicken thighs out of the oven, and to
her surprise she felt it pool around her pussy and then spill out to her
jeans, running freely down her leg.
She stood there, still going, hot pan in hand, creating a puddle on the floor.
The diaper was heavy and soaked, and she felt its bulk pushing up against her
privates. She quickly put down the chicken and leaned against the counter,
plunging her hand into the wetness of her pants, bringing herself quickly to
orgasm standing there in the kitchen.
---
She ate her dinner -- chicken, rice and lentils, a salad with avocado, with a
big bowl of ice cream for dessert -- even though she was still full from
lunch. She was hoping the extra fiber would keep her from gaining too much
weight this week, but it was worth a few pounds to keep her system full to
overflowing. With the two metamucils she had that day, Tuesday would have
some very voluminous bowel movements, and several. To help that along, she
drank two cups of the "Get Regular" tea. On the package it advertised inducing
a bowel movement eight hours after drinking. The online reviews, however,
noted that when you take it you should be ready to be close to a bathroom, for
the day, with several people saying they had to rush to the bathroom every
half and hour or so to avoid an accident. That sounded pretty great to Leah.
She put on a fresh diaper, drank another glass of water, and climbed into bed.
---
It was vaguely light outside, a hazy morning sun just below the horizon. Leah
had suddenly been pulled awake, and she wasn't sure why or where she was yet.
She was groggily aware of a huge fullness in her gut, but before she realized
what was going on, she exploded.
A massive snake of good, solid shit poured out of her, filling her pants
completely in seconds. As she was halfway through, she remembered that Sam
wasn't there, and that she was wearing protection, and she started to push.
She was on her side, and the shit kept piling up as she rocked and contorted
herself. It was over almost instantly, and she lay there breathing heavily,
becoming aware of her urgent need to pee. She relaxed and felt herself
emptying, the warm wetness enveloping her crotch as she drifted back to sleep.
---
She was lying on her back, her alarm going off. She rolled over to reach her
phone on the floor, and shivered with pleasure when she felt her full pants.
And then there was the joy of discovering how desperate she felt again. There,
on her belly, her arm hanging off the bed, she gave a light push and felt her
already full pants fill even further.
She put her hand underneath her, between her legs, and rocked her pussy into
her hand through the wet diaper. She came violently, and was surprised by
another sudden bowel movement that came out of her just as violently, followed
by a slow, relaxing piss. She made no attempt to stop either one.
Three bowel movements before she even got out of bed! And two of them almost
beyond her control. It was like her functions below the waist had taken on a
mind of their own. She felt empty now, but she knew her body well enough to
know that, with what she had done the last two days, there was still a lot
left to come.
What's more, she had judged her diet perfectly. The contents of her pants were
solid without being hard. She wobbled out of bed, trying not to squish things
too much yet. Yes, she had been doing this a long time, but she couldn't
remember a time when she had this much shit in her pants. She was tempted to
change, but she wanted to see how full she could make them.
---
She had to go again before breakfast was ready. This time she tried to hold it
in, but while she was scraping the eggs onto her plate, a cramp took her that
was so intense, she just had to let go. It was a surprisingly large movement,
still thicker than usual and not too soft. She squatted slightly as she let it
out, and felt the pile beneath her growing. The diaper still held though, so
she went about her business.
Today was her day to eat slightly constipating food. This morning it was eggs
and cheese, sausage, a muffin and a glass of milk. She messed herself again
before the end of the meal, and felt the diaper straining at the legs. It was
so heavy when she cleaned up her breakfast dishes, it started to pull down
from her waist. She closed the dishwasher and went to look at herself in the
bedroom mirror. The stretchy fabric of her pajama pants was extended further
than she had ever seen. The bottom was closer to her knees than her hips, so
she had to lean over to get her hands underneath. She gently pushed up on the
mess inside and felt it yield against her skin. Her eyes fluttered.
Feeling a little faint, she hobbled over to her desk chair. She
unceremoniously plopped down, and felt her mess rush and flow inside her
pants, realigning itself to fit its new shape. It was wonderful, and she made
herself come just by rocking a little back and forth.
When she had recovered, she changed herself. She didn't make much of an effort
to clean herself, other than a few cursory swipes of toilet paper in key
places. Then she put a new diaper on. She hadn't really intended to use them
this much, but today it seemed like messing her panties so often probably
wasn't an option. She felt her insides rumble and looked at the clock -- only
9:30. She clearly wasn't getting any work done today. Pulling on a new pair of
pants, she sat on the couch with some crappy rom-com and let herself go
whenever she needed to.
She shat herself three times during the movie, and when Matthew McConaughey
kissed the starlet in the end -- what was her name? -- she peed into the mess.
---
Leah had been doing this for a long time, and she knew her body well. She knew
what it could take, and more importantly, what it couldn't take.
That didn't mean she got to test those limits often. Her boyfriend, Sam,
wasn't a fellow pants pooper. She had introduced him to wetting after they had
been dating for a few months, but even now, after living together for almost
three years, she hadn't told him about her other habit. She told herself it was
better this way. When she did it by herself, she was free to push whatever
limits she wanted, and she was free from the shame of seeing herself through
his eyes.
And maybe he was the one, and maybe she would carry her secret to the grave.
She was ok with that.
They hadn't been dating for very long when Sam lost his job, and she had
invited him to move into her cozy duplex in Queens. It was probably too early
in their relationship to move in together, but Leah had more space than she
needed, and Sam was feeling shaken after being laid off -- not to mention
hurting for cash. So she invited him in, and they became very close, and that
pretty much spelled the end of her zipless pants pooping.
But for years before that, she had been as free as anyone could ask for. As a
freelance writer, she would spend her days at home, and many of those days she
would spend sitting in her own filth. Even when she ate normally, Leah had
always been a prolific defecator. In the morning, she would wake up, plop
herself down at her desk with her computer, a bowl of cereal, and a cup of
coffee, and not get up again until mid afternoon.
She liked to make her first mess while she was cooking her oatmeal. Maybe
fifteen minutes after she'd first gotten up, still in her pajamas, she would
feel the pressure in her bladder and bowels. Standing over a towel while she
stirred the oatmeal, she would relax her bladder open and wet herself
deliciously. A moment later, she would be ready for the next step, and by
lightly bearing down she would squeeze out the first small BM of the morning.
It was always hard and nearly odorless, and it would nestle lightly between
her butt cheeks, reminding her what she'd done with each movement she made.
At this point she would usually kick off her pajama pants and pull on a pair
of jeans or slacks over her soiled panties. Then she would sit down and get to
work.
Just as she finished her coffee, she would start to feel a strong urge come
on. She tried to make a game of whether she could relieve herself without
interrupting her typing. She would relax, still trying to focus on the
computer screen, and feel the beginning of what was usually her largest poo of
the day start to ease out into her pants. Some days she would sit there,
feeling it slowly ooze out, slowly filling the space available until it
couldn't go any further without standing up. Other days, she would skip that
step and lightly lift her ass off the seat, push hard, and fill her pants in
one go, while also emptying her bladder. Settling down slowly, she would go
back to typing (she never was able to do it without interrupting her train of
thought for at least a little bit) while she gradually finished pissing
herself.
Finally, around 1 in the afternoon, she would need it again. She would be
winding down her daily 500 words, and she liked to wait until she was done so
she could really enjoy it. As soon as she typed the last word, she would hit
save, stand up -- feeling the weight of her morning's other accomplishments
already in her pants -- take a deep breath, and push out everything she could.
She loved the feeling of it coming out both sides at once, and her shit piling
on top of what was already there while her piss ran down her legs. She would
hover over her chair then, her butt often six inches off the seat, but the
pile beneath her was touching it, pushing slightly on her behind. Then she
would slowly, delicately rub her clit through her pants, her legs starting to
quiver as they grew tired of holding her up, until they got so tired they
couldn't help but lower her down, squishing her mess out beneath her. She
would time it so she came just as her butt finally came all the way down, and
she could feel the poop maneuvering around her curves as her vagina spasmed
and her back arched.
She would sit there quivering a few minutes, and usually pee a bit more in her
sodden pants before she cleaned up.
There were endless variations on this pattern, and many other games she liked
to play, but that had been her routine, often two or three times a week.
Then there was Sam, and he was around all the damn time. He got a job as a
bartender while he was looking for other work, so he was always home during
prime pooping hours. Leah once held it in all day so she could go in her pants
after Sam left at 5. But she was so nervous that she had a hard time enjoying
it after she had done it. She just knew he would forget something or get home
early for some reason. She cleaned up as quickly as she could, and good thing
-- he got home after only a little over two hours. Turned out his boss had
booked too many bartenders for the night, and he had been sent home. From then
on, any time she was tempted to try to get away with something, she remembered
that night.
After nearly a year, he finally got a day job, and Leah was able to
occasionally indulge herself. It was never quite the same as when she was on
her own, but at least some of that pent up energy was sometimes able to
release into her pants.
And then, finally, the holy grail: Sam was asked to take a job within his
company that involved traveling to other branches to train employees. A week
out of every month would be spent at some far-flung locale. Leah knew exactly
what she would be doing during those times.
---
The first trip was set for early October, when Sam would be driving down to
Philadelphia, and Leah's fantasy life was swirling with the possiblities of
her week. Sam noticed her libido seemed to have shot up over the previous
month, to the point that he commented on it one day when she jumped him right
after he got home from work. "You're going to miss me, huh?"
He assumed she was trying to get in all her fucks for the month in the week
before he left, and she was fine with him thinking that. She *would* miss him,
of course. But she had also missed the feeling of releasing herself, of
wallowing in her naughtiness. It was like a great old friend was coming to
stay with her while Sam was away so she wouldn't be lonely.
Sunday came, and Leah helped pack Sam's garment bag. She laughed at all the
suits -- "my *business* man!" -- and waved goodbye as he pulled out to the end
of the block.
Then she waited. An hour. Two hours. Then she called him. He was almost there.
Ran into a bit of traffic just outside the city. He'd call when he checked in
to the hotel.
She felt an enormous relief right at that moment. It was really going to
happen! She felt her bowels loosen, and she ws keenly aware, then, that she
hadn't yet sat on the toilet that day. She closed her eyes, and pissed through
her jeans, letting a puddle form on the floor. She held her bowels though; she
was going to have fun today. Dropping her pants, she toweled herself off,
threw on new jeans, and casually tossed her wet things in the washing
machine.
Her plan: she would not use the toilet until Sam got home Friday night. She
needed supplies.
---
Squirming a bit with a comforting discomfort, Leah took a duffel bag and
hopped on the 7 train. Her first stop was the drug store. Metamucil cookies,
glycerin suppositories, "get regular" tea. Then she went to the medical supply
store. Diapers weren't always her thing, but with what she had planned,
sometimes they would be necessary. She had spent an embarassing amount of time
researching the brands available at this store, and had found some that had
all around positive reviews. "They minimize smell better than any brand my
mother has tried," said one, "Sometimes, my uncle soaks them several times
before asking to be changed," said another. Leah always wondered how many of
the reviews were actually written by people who enjoyed using them themselves.
Then, with everything safely packed away in her bag, and her gut complaining
more and more, she went to the grocery store.
The plan was to keep things as firm as possible and as voluminous as possible,
so Leah went with a variety of food that she expected to have different
effects. Hamburgers, kale, brown rice, white rice, cheese, eggs, potatoes,
lentils, ice cream... with the fiber supplements she was going to be going *a
lot* so she needed to make sure she was eating big meals throughout the day.
In the checkout line she almost lost it. Just standing there was what did it.
Not that she was actually going to lose control -- that would wait until the
end of the week, if she executed things properly. But she was trembling and
aching to just let go. By the time she got to the train, she was starting to
think of how she could relieve herself before she got home.
She chose a subway car that was near the end of the platform, where there were
usually fewer people, and she lucked out. There was one couple near one end of
the car, and an older man about halfway. She chose the empty end of the car,
and plopped down on the seat with all her stuff, finally relaxing her bowels
as their contents were held in by the hard seat.
She was sweating, and desperately wanted to push everything out, but she had
to wait. There were two more stops in Manhattan, and if no one sat near her
after that, she would be free to let loose as the train crossed the bridge.
She almost panicked when two people got on at the last stop, but they sat in
the middle of the car. As the doors closed, Leah lifted herself gently off the
seat, and pushed ever so slightly. The contents of her bowels, which had felt
so desperate to escape before, now eased out under moderate pressure, slowly
filling the available space. As that space ran out, she push harder, and felt
it spread underneath her. She wasn't finished, but her pants were pleasantly
full, and she had done as much as she dared. She let herself settle back into
her seat and felt the contents of her pants spread and shift. Leah sighed.
With her stop next, Leah stood up and gathered her things. She glanced down
the car and realized that someone else had gotten on, probably while she was
soiling herself. Her face burned, but it didn't seem like anyone was looking
at her. So she gave another push and fully emptied herself just as the doors
opened. She felt like she might faint, but she managed to get herself out onto
the platform with her shopping bags. She staggered over to the nearest bench
and sat herself down. The platform was empty. Thank God for Sundays.
By the time she got home, she was ready to pee, and also to relieve herself in
other ways. She lay in the tub and pissed herself slowly, then brought herself
to a lovely orgasm.
---
She cooked a big meal for herself that night, wetting herself a few more times
in the process. She downed a metamucil cookie and glass of milk. Before bed
she did another load of laundry, and then got dressed for bed. She chose her
pajama pants carefully, and spoke to them as she put them on: "Boy, you guys
are going to get it."
---
The next day Leah did her old routine, working all morning and not leaving her
desk. She had missed it so much she cried when she came right after going in
her pants for the third time that morning. Sitting there in her lovely, sodden
jeans, panting for breath, she gulped back tears and wondered if she had done
the right thing two years earlier when she invited Sam to move in. And then
her phone rang.
"Sam, hi!" She wiped the tears away and smiled, as if he could see her and she
had to put on a brave face. He sounded energetic, "Hi! Just taking a lunch
break. How was your morning?"
Now she was annoyed. It was bad enough that he was there all the time, but
even when he was two states away he had to butt in.
"Oh, good, I guess. Writing."
"You OK?" Give him that, he knew her well.
"Yeah, yes. Fine. It was just an intense writing session. I'm working through
some pretty dark material right now."
"Oh, you want me to leave you alone?"
She choked a little, "Yeah, I think I need some time to recover." He was
quiet, so she went on, "call me tonight?"
"Sounds good, love you..."
After they hung up she felt her shoulders relax again. She banished Sam from
her mind by emptying her bladder again. There was something wonderful about
pissing into already full pants, and she wiggled a little as the pee worked
its way through the contents of her extremely full pants and onto the floor.
She had had a truly huge breakfast of oatmeal, an apple, three eggs, a glass
of milk, and a metamucil, and now she downed a glass of water with another
fiber cookie before cleaning herself up.
---
The rest of the day was diapers and eating. There was only so much cleanup she could
stand at one time, so instead of adding to the wash every time she needed to
pee, she just kept on her disposable underwear for the rest of the day. It was
true what the reviewer had said -- she peed and peed, drank water like crazy,
and the diaper didn't leak until she was preparing dinner. She started to wet
herself while she was pulling braised chicken thighs out of the oven, and to
her surprise she felt it pool around her pussy and then spill out to her
jeans, running freely down her leg.
She stood there, still going, hot pan in hand, creating a puddle on the floor.
The diaper was heavy and soaked, and she felt its bulk pushing up against her
privates. She quickly put down the chicken and leaned against the counter,
plunging her hand into the wetness of her pants, bringing herself quickly to
orgasm standing there in the kitchen.
---
She ate her dinner -- chicken, rice and lentils, a salad with avocado, with a
big bowl of ice cream for dessert -- even though she was still full from
lunch. She was hoping the extra fiber would keep her from gaining too much
weight this week, but it was worth a few pounds to keep her system full to
overflowing. With the two metamucils she had that day, Tuesday would have
some very voluminous bowel movements, and several. To help that along, she
drank two cups of the "Get Regular" tea. On the package it advertised inducing
a bowel movement eight hours after drinking. The online reviews, however,
noted that when you take it you should be ready to be close to a bathroom, for
the day, with several people saying they had to rush to the bathroom every
half and hour or so to avoid an accident. That sounded pretty great to Leah.
She put on a fresh diaper, drank another glass of water, and climbed into bed.
---
It was vaguely light outside, a hazy morning sun just below the horizon. Leah
had suddenly been pulled awake, and she wasn't sure why or where she was yet.
She was groggily aware of a huge fullness in her gut, but before she realized
what was going on, she exploded.
A massive snake of good, solid shit poured out of her, filling her pants
completely in seconds. As she was halfway through, she remembered that Sam
wasn't there, and that she was wearing protection, and she started to push.
She was on her side, and the shit kept piling up as she rocked and contorted
herself. It was over almost instantly, and she lay there breathing heavily,
becoming aware of her urgent need to pee. She relaxed and felt herself
emptying, the warm wetness enveloping her crotch as she drifted back to sleep.
---
She was lying on her back, her alarm going off. She rolled over to reach her
phone on the floor, and shivered with pleasure when she felt her full pants.
And then there was the joy of discovering how desperate she felt again. There,
on her belly, her arm hanging off the bed, she gave a light push and felt her
already full pants fill even further.
She put her hand underneath her, between her legs, and rocked her pussy into
her hand through the wet diaper. She came violently, and was surprised by
another sudden bowel movement that came out of her just as violently, followed
by a slow, relaxing piss. She made no attempt to stop either one.
Three bowel movements before she even got out of bed! And two of them almost
beyond her control. It was like her functions below the waist had taken on a
mind of their own. She felt empty now, but she knew her body well enough to
know that, with what she had done the last two days, there was still a lot
left to come.
What's more, she had judged her diet perfectly. The contents of her pants were
solid without being hard. She wobbled out of bed, trying not to squish things
too much yet. Yes, she had been doing this a long time, but she couldn't
remember a time when she had this much shit in her pants. She was tempted to
change, but she wanted to see how full she could make them.
---
She had to go again before breakfast was ready. This time she tried to hold it
in, but while she was scraping the eggs onto her plate, a cramp took her that
was so intense, she just had to let go. It was a surprisingly large movement,
still thicker than usual and not too soft. She squatted slightly as she let it
out, and felt the pile beneath her growing. The diaper still held though, so
she went about her business.
Today was her day to eat slightly constipating food. This morning it was eggs
and cheese, sausage, a muffin and a glass of milk. She messed herself again
before the end of the meal, and felt the diaper straining at the legs. It was
so heavy when she cleaned up her breakfast dishes, it started to pull down
from her waist. She closed the dishwasher and went to look at herself in the
bedroom mirror. The stretchy fabric of her pajama pants was extended further
than she had ever seen. The bottom was closer to her knees than her hips, so
she had to lean over to get her hands underneath. She gently pushed up on the
mess inside and felt it yield against her skin. Her eyes fluttered.
Feeling a little faint, she hobbled over to her desk chair. She
unceremoniously plopped down, and felt her mess rush and flow inside her
pants, realigning itself to fit its new shape. It was wonderful, and she made
herself come just by rocking a little back and forth.
When she had recovered, she changed herself. She didn't make much of an effort
to clean herself, other than a few cursory swipes of toilet paper in key
places. Then she put a new diaper on. She hadn't really intended to use them
this much, but today it seemed like messing her panties so often probably
wasn't an option. She felt her insides rumble and looked at the clock -- only
9:30. She clearly wasn't getting any work done today. Pulling on a new pair of
pants, she sat on the couch with some crappy rom-com and let herself go
whenever she needed to.
She shat herself three times during the movie, and when Matthew McConaughey
kissed the starlet in the end -- what was her name? -- she peed into the mess.
Thank you for the contribution.
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