Violence - From the bathroom echoed a series of grunts and growls. Violence had locked himself in for a shit, but some how the idea of using the toilet for an epic adventure suddenly seemed like a great idea. Ah the things boredom will drive one to do! Phallus in hand, Violence was staring down at a Hustler magazine fold-out page, his face was pinched and red as he leaned forward, growling and fondling himself as he heaved and anchored himself against the toilet seat by pressing his toes into the floor, grunting over the result of eight days with severe constipation, and an entire card of ex-lax pills. Somewhere in that vacant head of his sparked the idea that combining the relief of an orgasm and the relief of such a large void of the bowels might turn into the ultimate fecal fetish experience. Not that poop was something Violence was into, but who was he to knock something before he’s tried it? Suddenly a large howl erupted from his throat as his bowels seemed to release all at once. Vi felt as if he were unloading piles of gravel and bricks into that toilet bowl. He was surprised it sounded like something soft when it hit the water, he felt that it should have sounded like he were dropping dimes. His white eyes remained on the pin-up as he leaned forward and continued to massage and pull on himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he would bark with pleasure as he pushed again, expelling a rancid amount of gas, tiny milk duds seeping from the messy, smudged button of his ass in a line of yellowish, snotty liquid. Suddenly the sound of ripping leather would hush, and Violence’s eyes popped open as he felt the birth of the largest log yet. He would lean back, feeling himself harden up in his hand immediately. He groaned loudly as he continued to push, the sound of his hand slapping against his thighs rang out loud and clear as he stared down at the magazine at his feet. Another howl of pleasure rattled the bathroom walls as he suddenly lurched forward, finishing on the rippled abs of his own stomach, just as the soft ‘ker-plink’ of the tapered turd tail hit the toilet bowl water. Sprawling back and continuing to rub himself as he basked in the aftermath of the double release, he sat there, trying to reflect on how the experience really made him feel… Well his ass hurt… And the bathroom smelled like his colon was bleeding… Somehow the experience of cumming was canceled out by the experience of shitting… And how these mortals managed to mix the two in one plate and eat it with a spoon was suddenly beyond him… Dragging a wad of toilet paper over his ass to clean up, and wiping the cum off of his stomach with Mason’s towel, he would stand and pull his boxers up, leaving the mess in the toilet bowl for someone else to flush when he exited the bathroom.





Violence - The soft rasp of tired whimpering echoed through the hot dungeon level of the mansion, audible only from the door in the upper levels that led deep into the bowel of the foundation. The formation of words was completely impaired by the large vice that forced open the mouth of the tired moaning body that lie helpless on a giant bed of black satin sheets. It was a woman, for the most part... There were no arms or legs, only deep sockets of flesh where the limbs once connected at the torso. She was belted in place by leather straps that wrapped around the bed, her hips were lifted by more straps that went both around her waist and tethered up to the posts at the foot of the bed. There was something disturbingly erotic about someone so incredibly helpless, and when Violence had first laid eyes on this particular beauty, she was wheeling around in a remote control chair with a joystick lifted up to her chin for steering. Even though she had no limbs, she had been dressed in a strappy, frilly little sun dress that set off the blue in her eyes and the golden sheen in her hair. Her face was pretty, and her tits were perky even without a bra, but they were also fake. She may have passed off a modeling career before her ultimate loss of physical mobility, now there was just a teensy pouch to her tummy where there was once a hard body, and an odd little surprise beneath the skirt of her dress that Vi hadn't found until after the abduction of her cute little cripple. Sometimes when a woman becomes physically inactive enough, the tendons and muscles in her body deteriorate and snap, allowing muscles to become schlumpy and a tad … deformed. In the lower regions a prolapse of the uterus and/or anus is possible. In this particular case, it was in fact both. Violence had pulled off the squirming torso-lady's dress and readied the speculum to explore the frontal cavity when suddenly the cervical cap pushed itself out from the labia and presented itself to Vi like a baby pink elephant hidden in her womb and poking it's trunk out to say 'hello'! Several moments of stress and struggle and squirm and push later, a second wad of flesh would unravel and present itself in a thick wet blob falling out from between plump little ass cheeks. The quadriplegic girl screamed through her jaw clamp until her throat was raw and all she could do was squeak and hack as Violence set aside the sexy little examination tools and simply brought her mouth to the exposed inner cavity of the out-reaching pussy. Her tongue would push right up past the cervical cap, forcing it's way into the straining womb and the girl would writhe and bellow in agony. Vi raised her head and slowly pulled her tongue out of the hose-like pocket that closely resembled a folded up pair of ladies socks sprouting from between stretched vaginal lips, and began to run the tip of her tongue up the length of her slit to gently circle the tip of the clit. Slender digits extended towards the table of shiny little tools, and carefully plucked up a single hollow needle. The lower half of the torso was trembling and flinching as tears streamed down the girl's cheeks and slobber dribbled off her chin. Her insides were on the outside and quivering like mad by the time her clit hardened and Vi raised her head to shove that hollow needle right through the little nub. A small stream of milky liquid would spurt from urethra above the sagging outward pointing cavity, barely missing Vi by an inch or two and she would grin wickedly. Hours passed before the screaming finally died down, and by the time Vi had finished the woman's torso lay completely split open, there was a giant mess on the sheets, and Violence was strolling up the stairs to freshen up before she went out to paint the fucking town red.