Dina Cleans Up [scat, panty-poop]

Dina was busy. She bustled through the kitchen carrying a box of old appliances and various knick-knacks set aside for the charity bin. Today she was wearing a track pants a baggy band t-shirt, a nice comfy unobtrusive outfit for chores. Next she had to sort the Tupperware and make sure it all had lids, then she had to sweep and dust, she had to wipe the surfaces, and she had to clean the fridge (which she dreaded) and she had to clean the oven (which she dreaded even more) and that was just the kitchen. Everywhere else in her apartment was a pigsty and she had to get around to tackling all her chores. She had to admit she'd really let things fall by the wayside during her semester but now it was holidays she was determined to set things right and get her place shipshape before she did anything fun.

 Dina was the kind of person who once they started on a task, hyper-focuses and did nothing but that task with manic energy without a break for altogether too long no matter what it was. Hence during term her neglecting all habits or chores around basic cleanliness in favour of getting her tunnel-vision on in regards to her university papers. Dina didn't really mind, her lifelong habit of hyper-focusing on only the thing that currently interested her had always left her basic hygiene standards a little lacking. Sometimes she just wouldn't shower for a week, or forget to do any laundry for a month ... or two. She just slathered on more deodorant and Fabreeze and went about her life. It's not like anyone really noticed or at least she was so laser concentrated on her current obsession that she never noticed anyone else noticing that she smelled. She was clearly very bright and had a lot of scholarship potential as an academic. So her professors and tutors didn't say anything, as it was so rare for someone at her age to be so focused on their studies. At that age it could be very embarrassing to be pulled aside by a teacher to be spoken to about your smell. But it had to be said that Dina was not being visited by friends or well ... lovers or other romantic interests like just about every other fine fresh 20 year old student at university. For most it was the time for such things but Dina lived in filth 9 months of the year, smelled like old baked-in sweat and garbage, and never made eye contact with anything that wasn't a puppy in a pet-shop window or a stray cat in an alley. She dressed well enough, but crucially, not in clothes that were clean, they were always covered in whatever she had been eating over the top of stains from what she'd eaten the week before. Her sneakers were stained brown with mud and on more than one occasion she had stepped in some animals poo and just not noticed. It hadn't been unheard of for lecturers to call her aside before class started and give her some paper notes, exchange emails with her so they could send her detailed instructions for a task, and then excuse her from the class. She was so far ahead and nailed just about every assignment that it had become an unspoken rule amongst faculty staff that if she was particularly revolting that day the simplest way to deal with it was just to give her the work and send her on her way. Of course she wasn't always terrible, some times she showered or got washing done, or had enough deodorant or perfume on that it masked her stench. Staff couldn't allow her to bother the other students on her worst days however, so they just gave her the work and sent her home. Still what with mental health being such a prominent feature of modern teaching, and Dina clearly exhibiting some quite forward symptoms of neglecting herself -- there was much sympathy and understanding for the brilliant young woman. So the staff did what they could to minimize her negative impact to others and maximize her education. This suited Dina just fine, she was always delighted when she was given a surprise day off, it meant more time to study and concentrate on her work. The library staff had taken such a shine to her (or so she thought) that they had practically insisted on giving her a personal study room. She didn't do any socializing or drinking at the bar, she thought it was a waste of time when she could be reading a new book, or digging up a new paper from out of a scholarly archive. After all she was going into debt for this education, even if her parents were kind enough to pay for her apartment while she studied, she was determined to ace as much as she could and get herself a scholarship -- determined to minimise her debt, and set herself up for life. Every second, every moment of sweat, determination and concentration she could muster, she was certain would pay dividends in her future.

Back in her kitchen Dina was opening up the fridge. She frowned at all of the mouldy take-away containers. Nothing for it but to throw them straight in the garbage. Her parents were coming, not for a few days yet, but when they did she had every intention to present them a spotless apartment. After all they were paying for it. Dina may have had issues with hygiene but it was not because she had no shame or grasp of standards or because she was incapable.  She just hadn't learnt how to juggle her own executive functions to the point where she could satisfy her need to achieve and also get the basics done and look after herself. She was always willing to let this or that go in order to get more time doing what she really cared about. With the worries of school behind her for the year and a healthy dose of holidays about to begin, what she cared about now was looking like she had her shit together and her apartment under control when her parents arrived. It was going to take her most of the next few days to undo the years worth of neglect. She was determined to tackle everything and have the place gleaming for the moment they arrived. 

She bustled on her hands and knees, torso sunk deep into the fridge and butt sticking out of it. She grabbed mouldy food containers and Tupperware full of putrid leftovers and tossed them into a garbage bag. Her stomach, with about as much tact as an unexpected sea-mine at a pedal boat race, let her know that she actually had some other important business to take care of. She clutched at her crampy, gurgling belly.

"No, no, no, I'll take care of that later, I have to focus" Dina thought to herself.

She grabbed some surface spray and a dishrag, and set about cleaning the stains and grime off her fridge shelves. At some point, without even noticing she began to realize she had an all too familiar full feeling back there. She was unconsciously flexing and pushing her anus in and out, well, make that consciously now. Her booty was seeking relief from the pressure she'd been ignoring for some time. Her whole body began to get that "ick" feeling that meant she'd been holding a poo way too long. Still flexing her butthole like this kind of felt nice, it wasn't really like relief in any way, it was just kind of nice to feel a part of her body she was almost never aware of the presence of. There was an oscillating tightness and release to the clenching that was almost addictive.

"Task at hand"

She pulled out the vegetable crisper and upended the entire stinking, rotting contents into the garbage bag, including a green-brown putrid liquid -- the result of months of neglected rotting vegetables liquefying slowly. She filled the crisper with soapy water and got to scrubbing when one of her icky butt spasms pushed out a low rumbling fart. Like a lawn mower starting followed by a short honking blart on a tuba. She felt every ripple vibrate as the gas involuntarily pushed past her sphincter.  It felt a lot better now but the room stank. It didn't just stink of the clammy, furry sulphurous cling of a rotten fart -- it hung heavy and wet in the air with the sloppy warm mire of fresh poo. Like most people Dina didn't really mind the smell of her own, and living by herself she had zero shame or issue with stinking out her own space. She knew she'd have to find herself on the toilet soon but she just wanted to get this fridge finished and then she'd go.

So she finished up with the crisper and left it out to dry on a tea towel, and started on cleaning out the attached freezer. Farts puffing out of her rectum in little airy gasps the whole time, punctuated with the occasional off-key brass-band ripper. With the freezer cleaned out she finally felt the fridge was done and she turned to make her way to the toilet when she noticed her sink was still overflowing with piles of dirty dishes, including a few fridge racks and other fridge accessories she'd put aside for cleaning. Not willing to admit to herself that she'd actually kind of really begun to enjoy the queer tight sensations of holding it in, she resolved that her self-appointed job was not actually finished, so she put on some rubber gloves and set to work washing up. A few farts later and she realized that she had a distinctly stretched feeling back there. The head of her poo was dilating her butthole! Like a wombat at the entrance of its burrow, surveying the wilderness before deciding to retreat back down into its home. With rubber gloves on and soapy dishes in hand she wasn't about to stop now. So she pressed on scrubbing dishes all the while her poo crowning and, through her own sheer willpower, being sucked back up by her hungry arsehole, over and over again. She gritted her teeth and wiggled her butt as she scrubbed down another dish, it was kind of hard to pretend at this point that it wasn't actually kind of pleasurable. She wondered just how long she could hold it like this? She seemed to have quite powerful control of her butt and she'd never really left a poo so long as to have gone through this as an adult, and a small but growing part of her didn't want it to stop, didn't actually want relief.

What an odd thought. Of course she wanted relief but the tension was just so exquisite. It kind of reminded her of long drawn out sessions masturbating deep into the night to hentai manga's she loved to dredge up from the depths of the internet. Something of an unofficial hobby of hers. Sometimes she could go until 4am and get through a dozen doujinshi, enjoying the long drawn out friction of it all as much as the waves of climax at the end.

Phew. She was done with the dishes. It was potty time. She took off her rubber gloves and went to walk out of the kitchen when she banged her foot into her bin. A dirty take-away container tumbled from the overflowing garbage pail and onto the floor and smashed its fetid, mouldering contents across the floor. Dina gasped. Then she groaned. She *had* to clean this up. So she got down on her hands and knees with her dustpan and a brush started cleaning, gagging on the stink of rotten food.

That's when a violent pain shot through her guts and the sharpest stinging sensation of her young life ripped right through her poor rectum. She'd officially pushed it too far, her butthole would not take another moment, the pleasure was now pain and it was growing more intense by the second. It hurt so much she dropped the dust pan and one hand shot straight to her stomach and the other straight to her rear. She doubled over and her face and hair planted into the mouldy remains of dinner from a month ago on the floor. She fought to keep her butthole closed so she could run to the bathroom, but the stabbing cramping in her guts prevented her from rising from the floor. Tears welled in her eyes and she let out a sob. Unbidden her arsehole bloomed, and she felt the searing heat on the inside ring of her anus as her fat juicy turd slithered from her rectum. It pushed into her undies and diverted down her gusset and she felt the unmistakable sticky putrid warmth ensconce the bottom of her labia. With some pressure relieved and a heavy lump in her pants, her guts felt much less painful and her twitching butthole surrendered itself back to her control. Yet here she was, on the floor, a warm fat poo weighing down her panties and face in a pile of rotten muck. The damage was done, she saw little point in moving now, softly crying to herself, she scrunched up her face and pushed with all her might, and a distinctive crackling followed. She felt another turd pass into her panties and coil up her buttcrack as it piled onto the other. Still she had more, she pushed and passed a looser, slimier poo that coated her buttocks, until the last few semi-liquid spurts came out. Never one to poo without some pee, she continued to push and heard the familiar hiss of her urethra as her wee began to flow, she could feel it being obstructed by the poo that had squirmed into the front of her undies and it splashed about her vulva as it soaked into her panties and tracksuit pants and made them wet, warm, heavy, and clinging. Her wee pooled on the floor.

She did not know how long she lay there on her kitchen floor crying. Heart beating like a hippie on acid in a drum circle with a Djembe. Rotten food and wee had soaked into her hair. Her poo cooled slowly in her favorite comfy panties, the off-white ones with the cute peaches on it. The stink would have been obscene but it had become so pervasive and overwhelming as to of become the new normal and her system had adjusted, so she barely noticed. Eventually though she calmed down, and the endorphins from the relief began to take over. She sniffled and slowly began to rise from the floor, she felt giddy and shaky. She felt the poo smush around down there as she stood and the warm sloppy feeling against her pussy wasn't exactly unpleasant. She took a moment to asses herself and while she was stinky and gross, she wasn't hurt, the shock had been distressing but now the pain was over and her tense muscles had relaxed and the embarrassment of the moment had passed, she actually felt pretty good. Almost like she'd had a Valium or something. What was there to be embarrassed about? There was no-one here but her, nobody knew she had just shit herself on her kitchen floor. Shit was just one of those facts of life to be dealt with like anything else, they were her clothes after all and it was her apartment, it was nobody else's business and more than anything it was her body and her feelings and now she felt kind of nice despite the grossness of it all she wasn't going to go feeling embarrassed about it. It was a pointless waste of energy. Now what wasn't a pointless waste of energy was cleaning up. She looked at her floor covered in rotten food and urine, let out a deep sigh, and reached over to the corner and grabbed the kitchen mop. She felt the heavy load of shit sway in her pants and it smooshed between her legs as she walked.

"Wait a moment, I should clean myself up. Duh." Dina thought, but something inside her was reluctant. The smooshing, and the weight down there was ... somehow ... comforting. It put her in touch with some deep feelings, strangely nostalgic, like something from when she was a very little girl -- deep feelings of being cared for -- ensconced in love and comfort.

Dina didn't dwell too much on that, she gritted her teeth. No, she needed to clean up this puddle and this mess or else she might slip on it and really hurt herself on the kitchen tiles. Cleaning up the mess in her pants could wait, this was obviously the far more important priority. So she set to work, except now instead of being meticulously careful about her own hygiene when cleaning up she felt an exciting, vivid freedom. She just grabbed rotten chunks of food with her bare hands and slapped them in the bin, no need for rubber gloves, it was already all over her anyway. It was actually kind of thrilling. She didn't have a dry rag on hand to sop up the pee, but she noticed that the very bottom of her over-sized band shirt was soaked through with pee from earlier though the rest remained dry. So she shrugged and took it off. She wasn't wearing a bra. The shirt was a dirty "ex-white" colour having been a treasured item from her teenage years that had survived to be one of her old comfy tees. It had a hole-pocked "Pavement" artwork on it. Oh well, it was a rag now. She got down and began to sop up the pee with it, until it was soaked through with the acrid smelling urine. Now somewhat yellow as well as off-white. She went to throw it in the bin when she noticed a black smudgy swooshy mark on it. Oh that's right, she'd had it signed! One of the very first big concerts she'd ever gone to as a teen. She couldn't just throw it away even now. A naughty, exciting thought raced through her head, and just like that, she put the shirt back on.

It was heavy, wet, and clingy and it absolutely stunk, but so did everything. Now, what else was there to do? Oh yes, the floor. So she mopped the kitchen floor, and then decided to get on with cleaning the oven. She had been dreading it all day but now it was exciting. Honestly the bathroom needed cleaning too, so she went in there and she scrubbed the shower, and wiped down the surfaces, she changed the bins. When it came time to scrub the toilet, she didn't wear gloves and thought nothing of dipping her hands into the toilet water to scrub the bowl. Her new found freedom was invigorating. She spent the rest of the night scrubbing and tidying and cleaning in her apartment until it got late and she began to get tired and the poo in her pants had gone clammy and cold and began to itch and give her a rash. Not to mention her pee soaked shirt irritating her skin and mixing with her sweat making her nipples sore like the salt water at the beach and her armpits sting.

Despite this she pressed on into the evening, cleaning and humming a tune, just a hairs breadth away from admitting to herself how thrilled she was to be so dirty, until it was late into the night. With a big yawn she made her way down the hall toward her freshly cleaned bathroom to finally get herself clean. As she did she passed by her open bedroom door, and caught sight of her bed. A huge yawn took over her body and she felt the leaden weight of hard work drape her tired bones. She needed a rest. Despite the absolute sty she had left her bedroom in. She hadn't cleaned her sheets in months, the floor was covered in empty delivery paper bags and soda cans, and her computer monitor invitingly flashed her montage of anime character desktop wallpapers. She was so tired and she hadn't quite found the time to start on her trashed room today. 

"Just one episode couldn't hurt?" She deserved a reward, she'd been through a lot today and done so much work. It would be easy to clean her room tomorrow and she could have a shower and chuck her clothes through the wash tomorrow. She waded into the trash in her room and clicked up an episode of her favourite anime, then she turned to her bed on autopilot. She hesitated for just a second before her soiled body ruined her sheets, but shrugged, she was going to clean them tomorrow anyway and they were already filthy from six months of use without a wash.

So she crawled into bed fully clothed, saturated in drying urine and rotting garbage, poo caked over her vagina and buttox, and a huge mound of it hanging heavy in her panties and track pants. It smooshed, cold and clammy into her as she lay down to watch. It sent an electric thrill up her spine as her movement squeezed a worm like cold slither of slimy poo against her vulva. Before she knew it she had a hand down her panties and on her clit, her fingers further smearing and smushing her waste into her genitals and coating her digits. Her climax built as she furiously rubbed tepid shit into her filthy, sore, itchy pussy. She couldn't help herself, and soon found herself switching hands and the bitter cloying messy fingers in her mouth dancing against her tongue. That was it for Dina, her brain exploded, her body seized up in a soaring explosive climax and she bit down tightly on her own fingers and sucked on them with every ounce of strength and power she had, desperate to clean them and intake every particle of her shit she could while her orgasm roiled through her body. She shuddered, convulsed and then everything went loose and limp and she sank into her bedding, steaming in released pleasure. She immediately began to drift off into sleep, more comfortable in her own mess than she had ever been at any other moment in her life. Despite the irritation, despite the coldness of it, despite the stink, despite the weight, despite the slimy clinging mess, despite the smears getting on her bedding, in her hair and on her body. She was in bliss, utterly relaxed and as she drifted to sleep she had a naughty little thought ... what if she didn't clean herself up tomorrow morning either? What if she just shit her pants again instead?

The end.

If you enjoyed (or came) I'd love to hear from you, email me at PilesOfPoo@proton.me