Cassie's Traffic Trouble

It was late Friday afternoon. Cassie pushed herself back into her car-seat and squeezed the steering wheel. She huffed and wiggled and squirmed while her legs scissored back and forth in the universal language of the seated, frustrated "I gotta go."

Cassie was stuck. Traffic was going nowhere. She was in the middle lane, of the middle strip of lanes, on the mega highway that had opened a few years ago. At first it had made the commute into a breeze. Then everyone realized it made the commute into a breeze. Now at peak hour every morning and every evening it was awash with honking cars, weaving motorcycles and angry, road-rage infected motorists. This meant there were more accidents, which meant there were more days like today where something horrible had happened somewhere down the road and now everything was backed-up, grid-locked and shuffling along at walking pace as the authorities tried to deal with it. She looked out her windows at the bumper to bumper traffic. If they could even get close enough to deal with it that is.

She had been crawling along behind an old panel van for at least half-an-hour and she was beginning to regret having gotten that extra large "mega-gulp" slushie when she filled up at the service station between work and the highway. It was just so hot out today it had seemed like a good idea at the time -- and it was a good idea she had finished it in 5 minutes flat and felt much cooler and more relaxed straight away. At the time her bladder wasn't even a fraction of a speck of a thought on the horizons of her mind, although now it occupied the space the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs must have in their pea-brained minds 65 million years ago. Worse yet was that the highway wasn't the only thing that had been backed up recently -- her constipation had been worse than usual in the last week and she was beginning to receive signals from below that things had finally decided to get moving. The worst possible timing, of course, but that was life wasn't it

Cass sighed. She had been eyeing the empty mega-gulp in her cup holder for some time. Flicking her gaze onto it between her speed (always less that 10), the bumper in front, the windshield in front of her and the face-plate of the radio. It always refused to find a station. She drove an old Corolla which performed admirably for a car with well over 400,000 on the odometer. She knew it was on life-support and while she desperately scraped together the funds to get herself another second hand car she wasn't going to drop the cash on something small like a broken radio. Still at times like this the distraction would be welcome.

She gritted her teeth, let our a little whine, and then a string of swear words. She had started sweating and the tension in her abdomen was becoming unbearable. She knew she was going to pee in the cup. She had known for at 15 minutes that she was going to pee in the cup. She didn't have any choice. She was grateful there was a cup, but also she was really upset that her life had come to this. It hurt her dignity to admit it to herself, but it also hurt right where the elastic of her skirt pressed into her waist and she knew which side of the scale she was going to fall on. So with one hand she grabbed the cup and spent a few moments fiddling with the lid. It was one of those ones where the straw was embedded in the green opaque plastic dome, so you didn't spill it in the car.

"Goddammit, what am I doing?" she said out loud to herself. Damned if she wasn't going to fight it.

That's when she got a pain in a different part of her guts. She put the cup down and clutched at her belly. Combined with her desperate need to wee she was in agony.  Then, terrified she might wet herself, she gave the tiniest little push with her pelvic floor muscles. At the begging it had the airy puffy sound of someone who doesn't know how to whistle trying to whistle. By the end it had the rude squelchy sound of someone trying to blow a snorkel clear in a pool of jello. The relief sent endorphins rushing through her body, and with the pain gone for a moment she sank back into her seat with a faint little smile and breathed deep. It stank like fermented rotten eggs had gone on holiday to a composting toilet, but Cassie didn't care, she felt so much better she took another deep breath and basked in her stink. Like most people she'd never really minded her own stench when she had the benefit of privacy. It didn't even occur to her to roll down a window.

"Oh no!" she gasped. The fart had made her feel so much better that she had completely forgotten how urgently she needed to wee! It had just been a tiny little spurt, but she could feel the warm wet little patch begin to spread in her undies. That was it, she wasn't going to dawdle anymore. She grabbed the cup, popped the lid to the side with her thumb and shoved it up her skirt.

She fumbled trying to get her undies pulled to the side but it was tricky keeping one hand on the steering wheel, one eye on the road, holding the mega sized cup, keeping the lid out of the way and trying to get her undies out of the way. Somewhere in her brain it was already quite satisfied that adequate arrangements had been made, and that there was no way, no how that the muscles in question were going to do an iota more work in the circumstances. 

Cassie's floodgates opened, and with such force that her urine spurted right through her panties in a clear defined stream and into the cup. Of course plenty was being soaked into her panties, and was being diverted and splashing around, all over hand, onto bits of her car and soaking into the seat, but the majority was going into the cup and that was a damn-side better then having to sit in a puddle. As she felt the cup warm up and the weight increase she began to panic -- what if the cup could not contain her whole bladder's worth of pee!? But just as the hot plastic became so heavy her wrist hurt her stream became a spurt and then a trickle and then died.

Her undies were saturated, her hand wet, her car seat was slightly damp, there was splatter all over the foot well, door and center console, and she had a huge cup of hot piss. But she felt better, she was practically steaming with relief. Despite the mess, despite the humiliation, despite the embarrassment of the truckie in the lane next door maybe getting a chance at noticing her toilet in her own car, Cassie felt good. Really good. Excited, exhilarated even. What she had done was naughty. You weren't meant to pee in your car. You weren't meant to pee where other people might see you! Imagine getting caught!? Imagine getting pulled over!? All she could smell was pee, the evidence of her escapade was everywhere. What would she say? "Yes Mr Officer I'm a grown adult and I just pissed my pants in my car and filled a mega-gulp to the brim!"

All of the feelings were mixing together, embarrassment, relief, exhilaration, being in trouble, but being in control and on top in the end there was one very dominant signal coming into her brain from a route that took a detour past her fluttering heart. Cassie was horny. Unbearably, extremely, absolutely invigoratingly horny. Her pussy and clit were practically burning in her undies. It had all come on so suddenly, she had no idea she would feel this way. The thought of a hunky police officer suddenly catching her like this with a warm cup of pee in her hand and wet panties was shooting thrills down her spine. She imagined him calling her a naughty little girl who needed to be punished, and pulling out the cuffs ... and oh god she needed stimulation. She popped the lid back on and put the cup in the holder and stuck one hand down her pants. Hoping that none of the drivers around her noticed what she was doing, but kind of also hoping that maybe they might notice. No she couldn't have an orgasm here, that would be too much, but just a little relief from her burning need. Her fingers moved on her clit subtly, up and down a tiny little bit -- just enough that maybe, just maybe someone might see a woman adjusting her waistband instead of a woman rubbing one out in her car. Everything felt so wet and raw and smelt so strongly of pee -- like a truck-stop bathroom that hadn't been cleaned. She kind of liked it, what's that officer? I need to be cleaned up? Only naughty freaks are so dirty to reek of piss?" She took a deep inhale and let the urea burn in her nostrils, she was beginning to get there, she wouldn't admit it to herself, but she was revving up.

Cassie glanced around at the other drivers, it didn't seem like any were paying her any attention. Maybe she could get away with just a little orgasm, just one for the road? It would be appropriate after all. She picked up pace and began to pant a little. Huh Officer, you need to call for backup? The whole squads got to come down and see the naughty girl? Oh god she needed more stimulation this 2-bit fantasy was not cutting it for her, she needed to feel like she felt before, when she was pissing herself and she was scared she'd get caught. She glanced around again --nothing to see but a guy in his own world chatting on his hands-free phone and the Celtic knot artwork on the side-panel of a truck door. Her eye caught the cup. No. She couldn't. That IS naughty. That is SO naughty. Her fingers picked up pace, and she felt something begin to bloom inside of her and let out an audible gasp. Oh god, fuck it, she was going to do the most perverted thing she'd done in her life so far. She took her hand out of her undies and grabbed the cup, and brought the straw up to her mouth. She took one last deep long sniff of the aroma and then took a tiny little sip.

At first it was sweet. What the fuck!? She couldn't believe it, must be something they put in the mega-gulp. Then it turned tangy and acidic, and last it settled as acrid aftertaste. All of it infused with the pungent smell. Fuck. She couldn't believe it. She was drinking piss in traffic. It was strong too. She took another sip. Then a slurp. She coughed but it wasn't so bad. Fuck it was actually really hot, she was drinking her own piss in public and she was loving it. It was so wrong, it was so perverted, so dirty.

"Fuuuuuuuck."  She screamed and moaned in her car, forgetting all about everyone around her for a moment. She was having an orgasm just and she wasn't even touching herself. She gasped, she heaved, she groaned, she gyrated her piss soaked ass into her piss soaked seat. She sucked on the straw and she gulped and she gulped. Finally it subsided and face flushed red and gasping for air she nervously looked around. Nope, no-one seemed to have noticed the woman having one of the best orgasms of their lives in their car in bumper to bumper traffic. Thank god.

Cassie had never been a single orgasm kind of girl though. When she got going she really got going, and when she was home alone in bed she liked to kick things off with a quick one from the vibrator before she went for a long slow deep one with a dildo as well as the vibrator and after that one she liked to get out the anal beads and see how many she could fit for the finale. In this way she had conditioned her body to expect a little bit more than a single release, even one as good as that last one served more to get her motor running then it did to exhaust her and damn was she hornier than ever.

Her reproductive system wasn't the only thing her orgasm had loosened up -- suddenly the pain in her guts came back with a vengeance. Oh shit! literally! During her naughty little traffic play she had completely forgotten that weeing was far from the only relief her body was desperately seeking. She'd managed to override the need with her fun, nasty distraction but now her booty was not willing to be ignored. She could feel it beginning down there. The clenching, twisting demand. The full pushing sensation. Her butthole was twitching: something was a-knocking. Fuck. God damn was she going to be that nasty? Who even was she anymore? Fuck she had the need and she'd just discovered how much fun being totally perverted could be, but this? This was too far, how could it be anything other than pure agony?

The agony in her guts did not care for her line of thinking and her pussy was having some thoughts of its own. She had awoken something nasty, something dirty inside of her. She had yet to realize that it had only cracked one lidded eye open and had just begun to awake. Whatever dirty creature was inside of her, it was yet to stretch out, rub its eyes and begin to prowl.

Cassie could feel her butthole dilating, her stomach in knots. The head of her poo was poking out and her guts were running rows of serrated knives through her nerves, all the while her pussy was burning, screaming at her to be the dirtiest little bitch she'd ever been in her life. Traffic stopped. She took her hands off the steering wheel, grabbed the cup, wrenched the lid off, scooted her butt up and put her feet on the steering wheel. With one hand she pulled her sodden panties to the side and with the other she held the cup up to her butthole, and just in time as her steaming hot poo shot out of her like a bullet and into the cup of piss -- splashing more urine everywhere. Cassie grunted and cried, and some of the sloppy mess piled out of the cup and onto her hand, where the caress of its hot sloppy warmth sent tingles to her brain and then to her pussy. And just like that her stomach unclenched and relaxing endorphins bloomed throughout her body. She breathed out a huge sigh of relief, let her panties go, and gingerly replaced the lid on the cup. It had streaks of sloppy yellow-brown poo sliding slowly down the sides. She put it back in the cup holder and sat up. She had shed tears in her desperation and pain and could feel the ghost of them prickling on her face. She raised the back of her hand to wipe them away but her nose caught the smell of fresh shit. She paused and stared at the brown slimy gooey paste on her hand. She could feel the blood rushing into her pussy -- it screamed at her.

"Dirty Bitch" she whispered to herself.

She wiped the tears away -- smearing her own putrid stinking poo across her face. Then she did the other side, then she did her forehead and when the poo on her hand ran thin she scooped it up off the side of the cup with her fingers and smeared it under her nose so she could smell it all the time, and then she smeared it on her chin and finally across her lips. The deep, bitter flavors began to penetrate ever so slightly into her mouth.

BEEP BEEP.

The car behind her honked. She snapped out of her trance. For a moment fear snaked through her as her eyes ferreted around desperately. She saw traffic moving around her, nobody paying her any mind except the irate driver behind her wanting her to get a move on. She sat up and put her hands on the wheel, and got poo on it as she did, and then her foot on the accelerator.

Traffic was moving. Things were speeding up to a regular driving pace. She was driving around in public with her own poo all over her face. Her pussy was melting in her pants, her face was no different then a dirty toilet, a place where shit belongs. Hell not just her face, her whole body was a place for filthy stinky poo! Her guts didn't hurt any more but she could feel she still had "some in the tank" as it were, so she pushed. The exquisite sensation of hot soft poo flowing into her undies, squishing along her gusset, touching her vulva, smooshing between the seat and her cheeks. She shuddered in a mini orgasm.
Cassie knew now she was a dirty toilet bitch, covered in shit in public. A dirty public toilet bitch. She was a receptacle for poo, every part of her wanted poo, just thinking the word poo sent little lightning bolts ricocheting around her body. Poo ... Poo. Poo. Poo. Poo. Poo. Poopoopoopoopoopoo. She slipped a hand in her pants and scooped more of it out and began to work it into her hair. First her bangs on the left, then on the right. Then fuck it, she grabbed a handful from her pants, took a moment to rub some into her deeply appreciative pussy and then smashed it into the top of her head, and rubbed it right in, then the back of her hair as well. Then a splat right down her top for good measure. All while not taking her eyes off the road.

Someone honked, a cup of something sticky smashed against her window -- someone else's half-drunk mega-gulp. She heard what she thought was "freak" and a giant SUV flew past and cut her off violently before speeding away. She'd been seen. She didn't feel scared, instead she felt excited, she felt breathless euphoria. She'd been caught! She was a nasty freak! A naughty dirty bitch! Her hand flew down her pants and began working her shit into her clit. It took every ounce of willpower she had to keep her eyes on the road and the accelerator steady while the next orgasm ripped through her. FUCK YES. I am a dirty freak, a nasty public toilet whore who wants poo, nothing but every last slimy dirty turd inside of her. She pushed her fingers inside her pussy, stuffing whatever muck she could scoop from her pants into herself as she rode out the waves of orgasm.

"Phew, one to go" Cassie encouraged herself. She couldn't believe how much she was enjoying her thrilling new escapade, and to think she wasn't far from home now too. She'd gone from pure anxiety and pain to never wanting this journey to end. She had poo in her pussy, she had it in her hair, on her face, all over her blouse and her boobs. Her pussy was ravenous with pleasure, like how a necrophiliac would feel if they'd woken up on a slab in the morgue after-hours at the start of a holiday long-weekend. She only had a few minutes until her exit came up on the highway and then only a minute more to her garage. She needed more poo inside of her right now. She needed to be a toilet.

She grabbed the cup and brought it up to her lips, everything smelt like shit, and she'd grown to love the stench sinking its way into her pours -- but the cup gave off a richer, deeper, more complex stink. Much closer to a porta-potty at a construction site. A public toilet. What she had become. No, what she always was, but hadn't realized until now. She brought it to her lips and she sucked at the heavenly composition. The urine and feces had mixed together into a slurry like texture. The flavor was dank, bitter, acidic, warm and earthy. She gagged, but her pussy commanded her to swallow, to complete her tummy, and her bodies, transformation into a nasty filthy public toilet. So she did. Her stomach didn't turn, her body didn't complain, she could feel the goop sticking to everything inside of her all the way down, she could feel the heat of it in her windpipe, her stomach greedily, eagerly start churning it, mixing it up and coating itself in it, the same way she just had. She slurped more of the pooey slurry and with each slurp it got easier and easier to swallow and her tongue and her taste buds decided they didn't object at all and that actually there was a nice quality to being bathed in a mixture of poo and wee. She gulped and she swallowed and when she pulled up her driveway and put her cup down she could feel there was only a small heavy lump still inside. She stopped the car in the garage, put it into park and then she opened the lid of the cup, flicked a finger under both the waist band of her skirt and panties and pulled them away from her body. Then she lifted the cup, and upended it over her open inviting nethers and dropped the (now cold) lump of poo down.

She plunged her hands down her panties and with one began to vigorously, desperately stuff her vagina with as much of her poo as she could while the other gave her clit a beating -- like a slave that had betrayed their master. She let out the loudest OhhhhhHHHHH FUUUuuuUCKK of her entire life as she went over the edge and she spasmed in her car seat, eyes rolled in the back of her skull, tongue hanging out like a dog, stained a nasty yellow-brown like her teeth, mouth, throat and -- presumably -- the inside of her stomach. Poo all over her face, worked deep through her hair, and all over her clothes, boobs, vulva and a clump bigger than her fist squishing around and providing a satisfying pressure in her pussy. She had ascended to the truth of her being, a putrid poo and wee loving toilet creature and she was absolutely thrilled as her climax wracked through her and spent all of her nerves.

She collapsed on the steering wheel and passed out. When she awoke it was dark and their were crickets chirping. Tomorrow was a Saturday. She had nowhere to be, nothing to do. She rose slowly from her position, and she flicked down her cars sun visor and looked at herself in the little mirror. Poo smeared, and beautiful. She gave herself a smile and saw her brown teeth, and a piece of partially digested spinach caught in them. Everything smelled so, so good. She was happy like she'd never been happy before. She opened her car door, and got out of her car. She looked inside. There. Was. Poo. Everywhere. All over the steering-wheel, all over the seat, all over the handles, the gearshift, the parking brake, on the radio dials, splattered through the foot well, bits on the windshield, even dripping off the air-con vents. Cassie smiled to herself, she didn't think she'd bother to clean it up. She wanted to know how it would smell tomorrow. She wanted to sit in it tomorrow and go for a lovely long drive. She shut the door behind her and waltzed into her house whistling herself a happy little tune. She thought about a shower for a second, but then decided it'd be a lot more fun if she dove straight under the covers as she was, fully clothed, dripping with poo and stinking like a rotten outhouse at a three day festival with a case of gastro running through it. Her vibrator, dildos and anal beads were all calling to her, and once she was done with them she looked forward to waking up covered in dried poo: a new woman ... sorry, Cassie corrected herself -- a new toilet.

The End.

If you liked what you read (especially if you came) I'd love to hear from you! Please email me at pilesofpoo@proton.me. I'm open for comission so long as you get me to write about scat!