How long will this keep Yota occupied?

[RFM]

http://www.poopreport.com/Stories/index.html

My afternoon is flying!

[yotaman88210]

Blocked at work my good man

[Mojoe]

That sites the shit! For realz. Lol

[RFM]

That's a damned shame! Perfect way to pass hours. Many stories...

Substitute Yota whenever she says X-Ray Tech.

Two Liters Too Much

Posted 03.02.2010 by Rebekkah (22)

I am from Russia, and my parents are Polish. When I came to America this year for university, I never dreamed that the terms explosive diarrhea, Clostridium difficile, or shitting myself during an abdominal CT scan would become a part of my lexicon. Oh, but they have.

Also, remember as you read that I am a Shameful Shitter.

One Friday evening, I sat at my computer Skype-ing with my mum back in Petersburg. I said to her, “Oh, Lord, something is brewing. I must run.”

I realized later that the runs is an American term I would do well to remember, because the runs are what I had for three agonizing days. On the third day, Sunday, I went to the emergency room with unspeakable abdominal cramps and diarrhea. Blood tests were done, temperatures were taken, and much fun was had by all. I was given morphine for my terrible abdominal cramping, which also stopped me from shitting myself—for the time being. I'll come back to this later.

An achingly attractive young male nurse named Jake came in to inform me that an abdominal CT would be done on my twisted, agonized abdomen to rule out Appendicitis and other awful things. Jake was, no joke, like beautiful Achilles. He was a thing of beauty, to be sure.

“Here is the deal,” said Jake of the Green Eyes, “We will put a dye in your veins, but also one rectally.” He looked at me pityingly while he says this, and I grew terrified.

“Rectally,” I said, “What is this?”

He paused for a moment. The moment increases. His pity only grew more evident. Then he said the words that I had gone all of my life without hearing and hope to never hear again:

“Up your butt.”

My face must have fallen, because Jake gave me a swift pat on the leg and exited. Essentially, I had to have roughly two liters of fluid pumped into my ass so my colon would light up in an X-ray. Oh, God.

Anyway, another man came in and announced himself to be my X-ray technician, aka the man who steals the virginity of unwilling Russian asses. He gave me a talk as he wheeled my bed to the chamber of torture.

“This is not so bad," he said. "I mean, it’s bad, but you will live. It is uncomfortable, but only uncomfortable. Don’t be afraid.”

Somehow, doctors always say this, but I am always still terribly afraid, especially when my poor ass is involved.

Speaking of my ass, it might now be an okay time to mention that it felt like it had been scoured with a cheese grater after the past three days of shitting and wiping. My poop was a fiery liquid, and due to my having drunk an entire liter of blue-purple Gatorade, was a horrific green color. Oh, the pain. If my ass were an animal, it would have cowered in terror at the mere thought on some rod-like thing approaching it with intent to go south and ram north. The prospect of getting my ass touched with even a feather was enough to bring tears to my eyes, let alone the thing the X-ray technician now held aloft for me to see.

“See? This is all.”

It was fifteen centimeters long at least, and probably three around. Oh, that is all?

Against my will, my asshole clenched.

“I will stick this up,” he said, “and then inflate this balloon to keep it from falling out.”

He pushed some button, and a balloon one-quarter of the way up the ass-raping rod inflated, probably in unison to the widening of my eyes.

I asked, “And this thing… you grease it up first, yes?”

He assured me that yes, it would be greased; but in retrospect, I think this was no fucking help. It was still the size of a tree trunk.

I turned onto my side, at his behest, and felt him lift up one cheek of my ass. I should take this time to tell you that my ass is big. I am very thin girl, and tall, but I have a big ass. So, when I felt this strange man lifting one of my cheeks, I grew self-conscious, and it is this, I fear, that led to my clamping.

I clenched without meaning to, and when he rammed the Tree Trunk up my poor battered, shy asshole, I yelled out.

“Shit! Shit! Fuck! shit!”

Only I did this in Russian. Much more suave, of course, is Russian; but people tell me that Russians scare them, so potentially my yelling also sounded much scarier than it would have had I spoke in English. When I felt that evil balloon blimp up, I went from Slavic swearing to trusted stony silence. My last shred of childhood died; and here I am at only twenty, an old maid.

Then he began the pumping. Oh, the pumping. I had warned him before the procedure that I was doubting my ability to retain two liters of water. Hell, I was doubting my ability to hold in my own diarrhea. The X-ray technician assured me that I would be fine, but as the pumping began, I knew the worst was sure to come. X-ray Man went behind some shield or wall thing to do his voodoo and suddenly I cried out pitifully.

“I’m Shitting! I’m Shitting!”

Boy, was I shitting. I felt a disturbingly warm rush of liquid rush out of me, and since I was lying down, it went everywhere from down to my ankles to up to the middle of back. And it was, as you know, green.

I mean green.

X-ray Man finished X-raying and let me go shoot the rest of my colon water into a toilet, which I did with gusto. It was butt-pee, plainly put. I was given a new hospital gown and sent back to the emergency room, where I tried to recover my dignity.

The story should have ended there, but it did not; for as I was lying in bed, I had a raging urge to shit. It was like a train in my guts. I rang the nurse bell like frantic madman, but suddenly…

“Aaaahh…noooooo….” Moments later, Gorgeous Jake popped into room and asked me what I needed. I looked at him in desperation, and being unable to put it more eloquently, said, “I had a water explosion.”

He looks puzzled, so I acted it out with my hands, and with sound effects. He got it after that.

What followed was five days in hospital with C. difficile. I was shitting horrid muck every twenty minutes but sleeping none, dehydrated, and wishing for death. I was in foreign country, without my mother or sister, and scared shitless that I was dying. All that, however, was a high point after shitting (as a Shameful Shitter) some green slime in front of the most beautiful American man I have ever seen. Jake: call me. And I’m sorry about the sheets.

[Mojoe]

That was fucking great! Lol

" call me". LOL

[jbot]

i sprayed root beer all over my desk and monitor at the part:

"He pushed some button, and a balloon one-quarter of the way up the ass-raping rod inflated, probably in unison to the widening of my eyes."