Saturday, April 6

I was able to sleep in an hour later than normal due to shifting work commitments, and the extra time brewed a steamer in me that condemned an office restroom for two hours. I had eaten spicy chili the night before, and knew the resulting squit (squishy shit) would be epic due to the potency of minor farts I had been laying since early morning. Smell rates a full 5.0, size about a 4.4 (roughly seven inches of bratwurst diameter shit), cleanup was about 2.0 due to a welcome upsplash that lent a bidet effect.

Sunday, April 7

I usually try to reserve my most plentiful dumps for Sundays, mostly because I can take my time in the comfort of my own bathroom. Today was an excellent example of this as I produced a crap that could be best described as "pornographic" in terms of its size, and gave me the impression that I would fare well in a prison rape scenario. Size must be rated a one time only 10.0, given that it appears this shit started near my tonsils. Smell was weak at 1.0, and cleanup was a difficult 4.5, mostly due to the copious plunging required.

Monday, April 8

There was no dumping to be had this day, and I walked about bow-legged like a cowboy after a long cattle drive due to the previous day's evacuation. Luckily I was not required to go into work as it was my day off, so I sat alone in the dark with my appropriate shame.

Tuesday, April 9

I nearly left work today after battling through the first four hours of my day with bi-hourly bouts of the shotgun shits. The pressure built up to excruciating levels until hard-packed pellets of poo ricocheted audibly off the porcelain beneath me. Size is hard to register, as the dense pellets sunk like bullets below the visible bottom of the toilet bowl. Scent was completely absent, and cleanup was effortless. It was almost like I didn't shit at all, except for the soreness in my bowels.

Wednesday, April 10

The dry density of the previous day's shitting was compensated for with the oily discharge that made its way into the very fabric of my underpants today. I was faced with the decision to either go home to change or to abandon all hope of comfort and go commando. I chose the latter, discarding my boxers in the trashcan for the nice mexican lady to find when she came to clean the facilities. The application of a paper towel "cork" prevented me from soiling my work trousers. Size is registered at a 0, since it was all fluid. Stench was strong with this one, a solid 4.0, and cleanup was off the scale, since the greenish tint and unruly greasiness caused me to jettison my drawers.

I will be back soon with further details on my crapping habits. It will keep you at the edge of your toilet seats!

Some men are born.  And other men are made.  This is a tale of the latter, a gent that was born with the name Heidi but earned his masculinity in a trial so fierce few of us “natural men” would be able to follow.

You see, being born a woman is a mixed bag, at best.  If you are lucky enough to be sexually attractive you might find it to be easy going until old age, if you come out average you will still find love but then face the suffering of childbirth.  But if you are born repugnant, well... you might as well be a man.  

Heidi was born to bavarian farmers that were paired up out of convenience, since both were burly outcasts that couldn’t find love elsewhere, and that poor stock went through a filter during pregnancy that separated all the good from the bad and spit out a quivering pile of disgusting which became Heidi.  Based on the full mustache she bore at birth the doctor was quick to declare her a boy, but a glance at the undercarriage confirmed the awful truth.  Far from a man, but equally far from a woman, Heidi was a new and shameful breed.

She lived through her early years in a confused state, obsessed with cars and athletics she didn’t fit in with the other girls, and her imposing six and a half foot frame kept the boys at bay too.  And in a lonely world a child lives in their dreams, and Heidi dreamt big.  She wanted to be Heidi no more.  The only way to feel free was to become a man, but how?  Even the boys in her village were too wimpy for her, and she found herself shaving twice daily, even putting her father’s beard to shame!  So not any penis would do.  She needed something more.  She needed a guncock.

There were many items left over from the war in her home town, mostly nazi relics, but some allied gear as well.  And when she laid eyes on a tommy gun for the first time she became obsessed.  The length of the barrel, the shine of the fine american steel, it was a cock fit for a king!  So she began to learn a gunsmith’s trade, and soon mastered the art of manipulating metal for the purposes of wartime destruction.  Heidi quickly realized that she outgrew her home town, and could only earn her new identity in a foreign land, so she settled on the place that developed the object of her obsession, America: the home of the thompson submachine gun.  

Upon arriving on the shores of the USA Heidi wasted little time assuming a male identity, carried out expertly by virtue of a solid mustache and deep, booming voice.  But to be complete she would need to take the final step.  It took months to find a doctor with the skills necessary to graft skin to steel, but a disbarred and disgraced plastic surgeon-turned-mechanic ultimately made her dreams come true through a sixteen hour procedure that would have killed any normal man.  But Heidi was no normal man... she was TOMMYCUNT!

So if you ever happen to find yourself using a urinal next to a massive blond man with a thick bavarian accent, try to take a peek at what he is holding.  You might be in the shadow of the ultimate in masculinity, the one they call Tommycunt.  Just make sure you don’t get caught looking.  You might find yourself staring down her barrel at a .45 slug.

Behold!

The internet is a wonderful world of anonymous tomfoolery where we can enjoy our most uninhibited and poorly thought out whims without any fear of judgement or retribution.  And although looking back at the brain child of days past might be good for a laugh, sometimes that child comes back to haunt us personally or professionally.

Are you trying to impress a special someone and don’t want them to find that sheister porn video to show up a hit #1 in a google search under your name?  Or maybe you want to hide your involvement in an infamous online holocaust-denying community from a prospective employer.  Perhaps your status as “NAMBLA recruiting officer of the decade” is not going to win you any votes in an upcoming political election.  So what is a person to do?

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I awoke with the stinging burn of freezing water spraying into thousands of cuts, burns, and breaks all over my body. For a moment I thought I was drowning again, but it soon became clear I wasn't that kind of lucky. The familiar voice of a young girl began her spanish chattering, alerting my tormentor to my recently regained consciousness. I pawed at the burning on the side of my head and was immediately reminded of my broken fingers as they slid across a prickly texture that could only be fresh stitches.

My rage got the better of me, and I started screaming every obscenity that I had learned in my long life of unrepentant bastardry. I scooted towards the blurred shapes in front of me, kicking and spitting, and told them what I planned to do to the whores they called mothers when they finally sent me to punch my ticket in hell. I had never been so angry in my life, fueled by further frustration when I discovered how difficult it is to get up from the ground with broken hands. But the three figures before me shocked me into silence with a simple dismissal of my fury. Full-throated laughter. They disarmed me entirely by mocking my efforts as they doubled over from strained stomachs. I was left only with despair.

The biggest shadow excused himself from the room, leaving only a tall, skinny man and the small girl. She walked over to me and calmly sat down in on the wet floor next to me. I was shocked that she was not deterred by the bloody, vulgar pulp that I had become. There was no mirror about, but I was certain that I was in the kind of shape that would make an ER doctor cringe. With an unnervingly even voice, she addressed me in near perfect english. "We know you are rich. We found your money. We also know you are desperate, since no white man would ever face the river unless their life is on the line." She spoke with an even tone and maturity that put chills down my spine. "And my father wants everything you ever had. He wants all your money, and all the money you can get from anyone who loves you enough to pay for your well-being. But he is not a patient man. He will come back in twenty minutes and he will ask you to make a phone call. Depending on the result of that call, he will either take you upstairs to be dressed and enjoy a fresh meal at our table, or he will begin to dismantle your body. He will cut off your fingers and toes, your cock and balls, then your ears and nose. It is only when you pass out from pain or loss of blood that he will let you die, then dissolve you in a series of barrels outside."

She then got up while I sat in silence, walked over to the door and knocked gently, then left me to think about my end.

Oh Lordy!  I've discovered a new passion, Russian Gem Carvings!  They are simply... Gorgeous.  I went a museum of natural history to see the Loch Ness Monsters, but on the way to the dead animal rooms, I saw these amazing carvings.

This one is called "Watermelon Fatty".  It is carved from a variety of different Russian gems.  If you make decent use your imagination, you can really make your brain think that the rock is water.  Imagination is amazing.

This one is called "Polka Dot Prisoners".  It is a Russian gem carving of some prisoners making their own prison door.  I thought maybe they carved white Russian gems and black Russian gems and stacked em up to make the prisoners.  But a friendly, plaque breathed museum volunteer informed me that it is made from Zebra rock.  He then continued to tell me that the purple dot on the back is a target for guards to aim at if they attempt to escape.  I was like, whoa.

This one is called "The Honey Raker".  It portrays a man vigorously raking wild field honey.  Like the other carvings, he is made from gems and stones.  There is absolutely no honey is this work of art.  Astounding, I know. 

This was my absolute favorite piece.  It is titled "Fatty Hand-Job".  It portrays an elderly man vigorously masturbating an obese gentleman.  That old man's gem carved apron is barely concealing his geriatric boner.

Here's another angle.  Do you see the expression of complacence on the tubby gentleman's face?  What about his arm extended in mid pleasure stretch?  That old man is really getting up in there.

Now we can really see the old man's face.  He's breathing heavy, jerking off a fat man can be taxing, but to him it's just another day at the old Hand-Job factory.  Simply breathtaking.

I'm gonna head off to my local Fed-Ex-Kinkos-Starbucks and get some mega sized prints of these gorgeous photos.  Until next time!

Woo-hoo! What a biggun'! Bet you hadta beat that sucker with a shovel, huh? A big ol' gravel shovel. Yer pa would be proud, boy. Now peel that puppy, she'll make a supper real good.

Well, gaw-lee lookit that big sob there! Done fished him outa his big hole, ya did. We call them "Devil's Privates" back home, but I'll be dickered if that ain't the biggest dong I ever did see.

Yee-haw! Thatsa monster fish right there, I tell you what! Got him witha arrow shooter, stranger? Well as I live and breathe.... I ain't never hadta kill a fishy with nothin but rock before, so I sure am impressed! Bet they is good eatin'!

Get an eyefull of that there mountain kitty! How much he weigh, huh? I bet I could pick him up real easy. My Betsy probably got about fifty on that bastard so I could get him over my shoulder quicker than a minute!

Hot damn! That sucker sure is the face of terror if I ever seen it! Bet that monster got a couple dogs, few housecats, maybe even an infant or two inside 'er! Whatchoo waitin' fer? Cut 'em open and lets count them babies!

Sweet Mary! That moose is bigger than that new pipe organ they just put in the church! How you gonna git 'er offa this hill, mister? I got my pickup a few miles back, and she'll pull this bastard if'n I can get her up the trail!

Notice of Intent to Pursue Sexual Congress:

This notice is to inform the recipient

Melissa Romero

of the formulation of designs to engage in sexual contact upon the recipient's person by the issuer

Steven

Hughes

. The above implication of the term

contact

being described as "Any physical or visual interaction between two or more participants, either willing or unwilling, that fulfills an intent on immediate or future sexual gratification by any party therein." This includes, but is not limited to; staring, gesturing, lewd comments, exposure of indecent nature, unwanted advances, groping, unauthorized videotaping, surveillance monitoring, simulated public masturbation, actual public masturbation, temporary involuntary imprisonment, forcible penetration, and possible impregnation.

Upon issuance and subsequent delivery the recipient is requested to assume a stance of personal self preservation, and it should be understood by all parties engaging in the above action(s) in either the assumed role of aggressor or victim that henceforth possible outcomes include legal prosecution and/or physical harm up to and including unnatural death.

Should you have any inquiries about the implications of any matter listed in this notice you are urged to contact our home offices at the address posted on the envelope. Appeal of this issuance must be filed at least six(6) weeks before mediation can be scheduled between all involved parties. The acquisition of legal representation is encouraged.

Sign:                                                             

By signing the above I hereby absolve the authorities and entities below of any wrongdoing by the individual responsible for filing this claim. You are to be advised that presentation of this notice at any US registered arms dealer is sufficient to allow an emergency short term personal firearms license.

From the offices of:

Brennan, Thompson, and Davis

Online legal representation and event planning

www.BTandDenterprises.biz

email: billyfasthands@geemail.com

(555) 689-4271 leave msg for "Swifty"

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Good evening, dear readers. Another treat for you to enjoy, I have five days of flatulence and shitting all detailed. And it might be worth mentioning that if any one of you are employed as a licensed proctologist I would appreciate a professional review of my leavings. But enough of that nonsense, and on to the pooping!

Friday, March 8

There is something about the end of the week that complicates my bowels. It feels like my colon is tied in knots, and if the dry consistency of my dump is any indication, I must be in the throes of some severe dehydration. For the sake of science I decided to fish out the floating mass and crush it between my fingers, revealing a flaky and course texture that seemed dry enough to serve as fire starting material. After thoroughly washing my hands I decided to drink a few glasses of water. Size was a paltry 2.0, but speed of movement and stench both scored high at 4.5.

Saturday, March 10

To add some more data to my experiment I decided today to eat two full cans of corn, then abstain from corn intake and track how long it takes for the kernels to stop appearing in my poo mass. Eating that much corn in a short timeframe is more difficult than it seems, and upset my guttyworks for the rest of the day. At roughly 3pm I emitted a loose coil with the consistency of soft serve icecream. The poo radiated a noticeable warmth from a few inches away but only registered a 2.5 on the stench scale. Size was hard to judge due to the tendency for it to break apart on contact with the water, but speed of movement and ease of cleanup were both low, around 1.0.

Sunday, March 11

I was startled to find the corn was making its way through my system as early as 9am this morning. Clearly regaining some form from the creamy consistency last night, the poo fell out of me in disjointed lumps, not falling apart, but also not entirely solid. Corn was throughout and if washed could pass as undigested. Ease of movement was 3.0, smell was at about a 2.0, but cleanup proved to be a difficult 4.0 due to some entanglement issues with my ass hair.

Monday, March 12

There was not much colonic activity all day, but shortly after 6pm I forced out a loaf that was almost entirely corn. I wonder if I derived any nutrition at all from those cans a few days ago, as very little appeared to be digested at all. Cleanup was an easy 2.0, but it must be said that when I changed out of my underwear for the end of the night I discovered a few escaped kernels that proved I could have wiped better. Odor and size were irrelevant, as it was all corn.

Tuesday, March 13

At work this morning I tried, seemingly in vain, to work out a movement. Although it was mostly flatulence I am certain there was some substance to it, but since I was using an industrial strength handicapped toilet, the evidence apparently slipped down the pipe to never be seen again. The wiping required some effort and a few handfuls of tp that produced an oily residue, good for a 3.0 on cleanup.

Will the corn ever stop? Will a diet rich in dairy cause a change in consistency next week? Find out next time when I give more detail on my dumpies on dump diary!

Hello! I just wanted to share with all you wonderful people a little impulse purchase I made this afternoon. You see, I was just leaving the all natural family owned vegan green grocers when I saw a lovely little computer for sale! Well, I only have four other computers, so I thought I should give it a nice home in my study.

Now we are going to give him a little undressing, maybe while I play some relaxing folk music. It is so much fun to curl up in front of my reading nook with my all-hemp jammies on and unbox a new pet computer!

Oh darn! I was hoping I would get a chance to get hands-on with the assembly! I guess the only thing I get to contribute will be my four Obama decals I got from the rallies I went to last year...

Well look at what we got here! I found a nice little home for my new 'puter right here in the corner. He sure looks cozy on his little desk. Well, I can't stay too much longer, I have some yummy hummus and red bell pepper recipes to download. Toodles!