I wake up in the middle of the night feeling sick to my stomach. My insides are churning, and the unmistakable feeling of having consumed something that disagrees with me is settling in. I know the routine all too well; it's a familiar dance between my body and my stomach. I waddle to the bathroom, praying that this time, it won't be as bad as before. But as soon as I sit down on the toilet, my bowels release a torrent of liquid – green diarrhea spewing out of me like a geyser. The smell is unbearable, filling the cramped space with a pungent aroma that makes me cringe.
Despite the misery, I can't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the situation. Every time this happens, I find myself narrating what's going on, as if my stomach noises alone aren't proof enough of my discomfort. I lean in close to the camera and whisper softly, trying to keep the volume down even though I know my neighbors can probably hear me just fine.
As the diarrhea flows unabated, my stomach starts to make all sorts of strange noises – gurgles, grunts, and sighs. I bring the microphone close to my belly so you can hear every gurgling sound clearly. The camera captures the pained expression on my face as my insides rumble and churn like an angry washing machine, causing my entire abdomen to bloat and distend. The clothes I'm wearing bunch up around my midsection, highlighting my discomfort.
Feeling brave, I lift up my top to reveal my hairy pussy. It's already slick with sweat and matted with some of the diarrhea that's escaped me. I gasp in pain as another wave of relief washes over me, my stomach contracting violently before releasing a fresh wave of liquid. You can see the relief on my face every time a new gushes of pure, watery feces pours out of me.
Despite the embarrassment, I continue to narrate my experience. I want you to know that this is real, raw, and genuine. There's something about sharing this intimate moment that makes it less isolating – maybe it's cathartic. And honestly, after all the times I've had this happen before, I've gotten used to the idea of documenting it all.
As the diarrhea finally begins to subside, I lean back against the cool tile wall, resting my head against it. My stomach growls loudly in protest, demanding more attention. I capture the moment on camera, zooming in close to show the shaking of my body as I writhe in pain, trying to find a comfortable position.
With one final burst of liquid, the episode seems to be over. I wipe myself clean, clean up the bowl, and tuck everything back into place. I heave a deep sigh of relief, feeling relieved but also exhausted by the entire ordeal. It's always a bit of a rollercoaster when my stomach gets like this – but at least now I know I have this footage to look back on when things get better.
I pause the recording for a moment to catch my breath before continuing. "All hand-operated and unedited," I say with a small laugh, "just like all of us."
