Author's Note: This is a fetish story involving gross bodily functions.
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My name is Emily, and I'm a gross person.
There's something bizarre about my digestive system: I produce a pheromone that makes people horny, and whenever I poop or fart I release it into the air. I'm not immune to my own scent, either.
I don't release my pheromones carelessly. I'd never want to see my little sisters getting horny, for example. So when we're on a long car ride together, I have to clench my sphincter shut, watch what I eat, and even force myself to stay awake, since I know I sometimes fart in my sleep.
Vacations are especially hard. With small hotel rooms and no privacy, I don't get many chances to poop. I'm sometimes forced to hold it in for three or four days at a time, just to avoid any weird sexual moments.
The incident I'm about to relate happened on a vacation, actually. It was a few weeks after my last story, and I was visiting my friend Kat at her college out of state.
At this point, Kat was living off-campus in a small apartment. It was fall break, and all her roommates were gone, so we had the place to ourselves.
I came to visit on a Thursday afternoon, and we spent the first two days catching up. I showed her my new tattoo - I was filling out my left shoulder at the time - and Kat talked endlessly about the new guy she liked.
Derek was the guy's name. She'd been trying to seduce him for weeks, she said, but hadn't gotten anywhere yet. She begged me to play Cupid for them. Nobody knew about my weird sex-farts, of course, but I had a reputation for helping people hook up.
So we took Derek out to a crowded bar on Friday night. Kat worked her seduction skills pretty hard, while I released a couple of silent farts. I didn't feel any effects, though; I couldn't even smell it. I think the bar was too crowded for the gas to reach us properly.
"I really wanted to wear something strapless tonight," Kat cooed to Derek at one point, "but I'm not sure my boobs are big enough. I dunno, what do you think?" She squeezed her tits practically in Derek's face, showing off the deep cleavage in her half-unbuttoned shirt.
Derek just made a face, and I nudged Kat in the ribs: go easy, hotshot.
He bailed on us shortly afterwards, and Kat groaned as we walked home alone. "Is it me?" she asked. "I haven't had sex in like a year... am I just ugly?"
"Don't be silly," I said. Kat was perhaps the best-looking person I knew, and I told her so. She was in great shape, she could pull off any outfit she wanted, and she had a body that would drive any straight guy crazy. During the last year, she'd developed a cool alternative vibe that made her even sexier: lots of button-down shirts, old jeans, and deep red lipstick. Even though I'm straight, I know a gorgeous woman when I see one.
"...And not only are you super-hot," I went on, "but you're also smart and tough and hilarious and a great friend. You're totally awesome."
"I knew I kept you around for something," Kat laughed.
The next day was Saturday, and I was approaching three days without pooping. I felt stuffed and bloated, and my insides were cramping. So when Kat checked her email and realized she had a meeting that day, I was secretly overjoyed.
"I'm really sorry," she said, as she pulled her shoes on. "I'm starting this group project. I promised I'd meet my partner at the library."
"It's totally fine," I said.
"I feel bad leaving you, though."
"I was planning to take a nap anyway," I lied. "I won't even know you're gone."
Finally, I got Kat out the door. I waited five minutes, just in case she forgot something, and then I settled onto the toilet.
Some people are easy poopers. Kat, for example, had no problem taking a dump whenever she felt like it. She'd gone a few times already during my visit. She even announced it sometimes: "Hold on, Emily - I have to poo." But she only took a couple of minutes, and the smell didn't linger long.
I'm not like that. For me, a normal poop takes all five hearts in Candy Crush - a good fifteen minutes. I also prefer that the entire area be evacuated first. Not only is the smell pretty strong, but it lasts a long time. And just a couple of whiffs makes people crave sex.
Like I said, I'm not immune to my own pheromones. I get super-horny whenever I'm on the toilet. If I have extra time and privacy, I'll usually masturbate afterwards.
Today, after holding it in for so long, it felt great to just relax my bowels for a while. I pulled out my phone and started matching candies, letting out those deep, pre-pooping farts. I can be noisy on the toilet, so I was glad to have the apartment to myself.
As the smell filled my lungs, my body began to respond: my skin grew warm, tingling pleasantly, and I started getting that familiar yearning to be filled up. I stuck a hand under my shirt as I continued playing on my phone, absently touching my nipples over my bra.
After a minute, my bowels began to move. Taking a three-day shit is like having a baby: first I felt myself stretching wide, then I felt the slow emergence of that heavy weight. My face scrunched up involuntarily.
I resisted the urge to push. Just let it slide out, I thought.
I pulled my hand out of my shirt and stuck it between my legs. Gross as it sounds, I sometimes put a couple of fingers in my vagina while I'm pooping. It's supposed to help you go. I never actually noticed a difference, but it's a good enough excuse to play around down there.
My vaginal discharge was heavy today, I noticed. My underwear and labia - and now my fingers, too - were slick with the thin, whitish cream that I sometimes produce in the middle of my cycle. I think it means I'm ovulating. Obviously I wasn't ready for kids yet, but it was cool to think about my body as ripe and fertile... hungry for a man's sperm.
I felt myself getting warmer and wetter, and I began to move my fingers slowly in and out. Meanwhile, in the back, a thick turd was sliding out of me, and the heavy smell was making my head swim.
Suddenly, I heard the apartment door open. Oh shit, I thought.
"Emily?" Kat called. "You here?"
"I'm in the bathroom!" I called back.
"Nice place," I heard a guy's voice say.
Great, I thought with irritation. Kat brought a guy over?
"I thought you were going to the library?" I asked the door loudly. My fingers were still frozen inside myself.
"We bumped into Derek on the way. I figured maybe he could sit with us while we worked, and then we could hang out afterwards."
So she'd brought Derek, too. This might work to Kat's advantage, I thought.
"Hi, Derek," I called.
"Hey, Emily," I heard his muffled voice say.
Kat knocked on the door. "Are you going to be in there much longer?" she asked.
"Uh... maybe."
I heard Kat explain to the others, "Emily's dropping a deuce."
"I can hear you!" I cried.