Diana was in a bind. Her goddess couldn't make it to their usual lunchtime rendezvous, leaving Diana to fend for herself. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem; after all, she enjoyed fulfilling the more... shall we say, unusual requests of her mistress. However, with all that diarrhea building up inside her, Diana knew she had to take action quickly.
She slipped on a pair of tan leggings and tried to hold back as best she could. But as the pressure mounted inside her, she felt the first tendrils of her watery feces escape and run down her leg. Cursing under her breath, she decided to risk it and made a beeline for the bathroom. By the time she got there, her diarrhea was raging like a river in full flood.
The sheer force of it surprised even her. She lost control of her sphincter as wave after wave of hot, putrid liquid poured out of her, splashing over the sides of the toilet and onto the floor. The stench was overpowering, and she could feel her leggings growing heavier by the minute as they became saturated with her filth.
Desperate to contain the mess, she grabbed some toilet paper and started wiping frantically, but it was no use. The diarrhea kept flowing, seemingly unstoppable. She felt like she was being consumed by it, like her own body was turning against her.
Finally, with a groan of relief that turned into a cry of horror, it stopped. Diana stayed where she was for several long moments, her heart pounding and her head spinning. Slowly, she raised her head to look down at the tangled mess of her leggings and the pool of vile liquid spreading out beneath her.
She couldn't believe it. The more diarrhea she'd released, the more it seemed to take on a life of its own, defying gravity and escaping from even the tightest of confines. And now she was left with the daunting task of cleaning up after herself, knowing that the experience would be forever seared into her memory.
