#i literally wipe right i clean my toys before and after i pee after sex but i still get utis lol my bladder is jusy messed up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meridia002-lorddiavolosconcubine · 4 years

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Dizzump in the Devildom

WARNING: FECES/DEFECATION, NSFW (NO SEX, BUT UTTERLY DISGUSTING), MERIDIA HAS AN ACCIDENT

Let this be the first entry in the Devildom Diary.

My first day in the Devildom was a total ASS DISASTER. Literally. Imagine finding yourself in an unfamiliar world that lacked amenities as basic as toilets. I was horrified and embarrassed when it came time to take my first dizzump in the Devildom. On that first evening I grabbed my demon boyfriend, Mammon, and pinned him against a dark corner to ask him where the toilet was.

“A toy what?” Mammon asked as he characteristically threw up his hands in confusion.

I dumbfoundedly watched him shake his head at me as waves of impeccable white hair grazed his forehead. Why humiliate myself by explaining the concept of human defecation to this shiny, smooth entity? I waved off my question as an exhaustion-induced brain fart and decided that it was best for me to search for a place to poop that night.

Why doesn't Hell have toilets? I searched the Internet for “demon boy anatomy,” and what I discovered didn’t comfort me. According to AkuWikia, demons lack functional buttholes. Their pink starfishes are only for anal sex and were never an original part of their evolution. The wiki article said the first king of the Devildom spent centuries watching humans procreate and fuck. He saw anal sex as unique and wanted demons to be able to do it. From that day onward, the demon king cast a spell on all his subjects that drilled perfect puckered holes in their anuses. The article made no mention of human defecation.

So there I was, my struggles to contain the doo doo within my donut hole failing me. Touching cloth is what humans call it when you’re desperately trying to keep the turtle’s head in its shell. Prairie dogging. You get it. I bemoaned my choice to wear tight-ass pants. I clenched my cheeks, my hands pushing them together to stall Mr. Hanky for as long as I could. I waddled sideways in the hallway like I had something up my ass. After all, I did.. it was threatening to break free. Why did I have to eat that burrito baby last night? Shit!

Stiffly shuffling against the wall, I opened the bathroom door. No toilets, but a pretty big bathtub. big enough to squat and drop deuce in the drain.

No! Shaking that thought from my mind, I continued searching every closet and room I had access to. Buckets? No. Where would I dump it? Asmo’s underwear drawer? Maybe. Ugh. Behind the bookshelves in the living room? Possibly. Let’s keep that as the number two choice.

I paused mid step in the hallway as my rectum clenched up in painful spasms. You know when the the shit starts coming down the pipe a bit more and holding it in causes painful cramps? That’s a sign you needed to find a toilet yesterday.

Time was running out as I was growing a monkey tail in my underwear. I needed to paint the Oval Office soon. Do I go in the bathtub and try to wash it down the drain? It seemed like the most private option. At this point, I could go outside for all the little D’s to see. What if Caveman Solo spied me dropping anchor in the grass like a dog? He’d probably like that.

I shivered at the thought of that shady fuckboi watching me shooting torpedoes on the side of the House of Lamentation. Why? Why didn’t they prepare this one little detail? Would it hurt these perfect, poopless men to install toilets for the one disgusting poop human?

My ass cheeks squeezed to the maximum when the final cramp hit me with a rumbling so loud it could’ve been Beelzebeef’s stomach. My cheeks gave out, and I went right in the seat of my pants. Staying in the bathroom, I locked the golden doorknob behind me. I dropped my pants, sticky brown separating from the cotton of my dollar store underwear. I glared at the brown curl in the seat of my panties with disgust. "I hate you," I whispered with all my vitriol.

I threw my clothing into a sagging, sad pile in the corner. I stood buck naked with my legs obscenely wide over the drain, squatting as much as my shortened Achilles’ tendons allowed. I inhaled and exhaled slowly to relax my sphincter. Warm ropes slid through my rectum like a monorail. I waited until I heard the soft plop in the drain. Sighing, I was about to stand up when another bout of the shits hit me, and this time it wasn’t as neat as the turd I just birthed. Before I could gather myself and clean my mess, a second violent episode of the shits gripped me. At this point, I was already half standing and no longer perfectly aiming over the drain. A typhoon of liquid ass viciously blasted the white tiles.

I panicked, and the more anxious I got, the worse the diarrhea became. I decided to accept the situation and let it all out.

“It will all be over with soon,” I said out loud. “And then I can clean it.”

With that being said, I pushed like a mother in labor. Pressure built inside my belly and travelled down to my colon until it exited my body in mere seconds. I became lost in the moment. I don’t know how much time passed, but it felt like the best time of life. Being so far gone in my poophoria, a moan escaped my mouth. Oh, the relief I felt in my guts! For hours I had held it inside me until the feces seemed to be sentient. It came out on its own.

My sweet moment was disrupted by a knocking at the door.

“Oi! Meridia!” Knock! Knock! “What’s going on in there? The smell is awful, and I gotta take a piss!”

Oh, fuck! Mammon’s timing couldn’t have been worse! Fuckfuckfuckfuck. I had to squeeze my cheeks together to restrain in the rest of the shitstorm while I looked around for paper towels. What was I supposed to say?

“Uh ... J-just a minute! Just taking an extra long bath!” My voice faltered.

“I gotta pee, so I’m comin’ in,” he answered. “It shouldn’t interrupt your bath!”

Goddammit!

Before I could stop him, Mammon turned the doorknob. The gold knob turned slowly, the door opened the slowest I’ve ever seen a door open. It creaked and squeaked ever so loudly, and I feared it would attract more attention. My stomach dropped again resulting in a tiny spurt of brown goo. White hair and brown skin poked through the door. First his head came through the crack like a little prairie dog. Then the crack opened wider as a RAD uniform appeared. The hands that were on the demon’s hips flew up to his nose as he gagged.

“Ack! What is that sme—” My boyfriend stopped talking as he stared at the Pollock-esque brown masterpiece I made all over the tiles.

“Meridia! What’s that comin’ outta your ass?!” He screamed.

My legs quaked with each spasm of shit I held back. It was useless. My cheeks jiggled with one final effort as a downpour of liquid brown splattered the tiles below me. Mammon was panicking, and I needed to explain this before he called his brothers for an emergency.

“Please calm down!” I begged. “I’m pooping!” My arms waved around agitatedly as I attempted to explain defecation to his confused face. “It’s a human thing. Please, just help me clean this fucking mess!”

Mammon seemed even more confused and distressed. His arms flailed all over the place in confusion.

“What does this even mean?” His voice cracked out. “Does your shit need to ... go back inside ya ass?!”

What? Oh, god no. I hope he doesn’t try that!

“No! Just, please don’t call attention to this!” I hissed. “I need you to bring me towels so I can clean this mess up.”

I hoped I could get through to him, because he gazed with a half-mile stare at my brown splattered masterpiece on the walls.

“Mammon!” I snapped him out of his shock. “Get. Me. Towels!”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, thing.”

Poor little guy. He sounded ill. It wasn’t long before the white-haired tsundere came back with a bunch of white towels. I palmed my face.

“White towels? Human excrement will stain those so much!” I said.

He shrugged. “I guess we’re gonna have brown towels at the end of the night.”

Taking one from the stack to wrap around my body, I was able to set about frantically mopping my midnight regret off the walls and floor. Maybe the most difficult part was scooping my mess out of the bathtub drain. I turned to Mammon and was immediately floored by the sight of the demon with his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and shirt unbuttoned. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I think I was freakishly turned on by the smell of shit. His body odor combined with the scent of fecal lasagna twisted something primal inside of my core. I looked down at my hand, remember that I was squeezing an ice cream scoop sized clump of doodoo in my hand. I shook my head to snap out of my arousal before my thoughts went somewhere taboo.

I hurled the crap clog inside a garbage bag, which reminded me of the lack of a toilet.

“So, we need to talk to Lucifer rather discreetly about installing a toilet in the house,” I reminded Mammon. “On second thought, let’s just see if Diavolo can put toilets everywhere.”

Mammon shook his head. “Why didn’t ya just say something earlier, human?” he said. “When you asked me about the toilet earlier, ya coulda just explained it to me. I think I heard something about Diavolo having putting those in RAD just for the human students.”

I froze. “You ... What?!”

He gulped. “Uhh, yeah. How’d ya think Solomon shits?”

My body began to shake in anger. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

He stopped when my emotions started to show. “Hey, now. I’m sorry. It just slipped our minds.”

My jaw tensed as vengeful ideas played through my shit-addled brain. Leaning over the tub, I eyed the drain deviously as a new set of spasms wrapped my bowels in their grasp.

“Mammon,” I eyed him sideways. “We’ve cleaned enough in here, and I need to bathe.”

He stopped scrubbing to wipe sweat off his sexy forehead. “If ya say so. Call me if ya need me human.”

Before he left, we made out like teenagers, my soiled hand leaving smudges in his clean, white hair.

When I was finally alone, I dropped my fluffy white, brown smudged towel on the clean tiles. Stepping inside the shower, I marveled at the freshly cleaned tub. Sad I would have to soil it again.

Once more positioning my legs vulgarly wide over the drain, I unleashed everything. No holding back.

#obeyme #mc has an accident #tw feces #obey me mammon #bathroom #cursed fic

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whenwomenrefuse · 5 years

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A History of an Ignored No

My story starts young. I’ve always had memories of being really young, young enough to be in diapers. One of my earliest memories is sitting on my uncle’s lap with his hand down the back of my diaper. Family all around, nobody noticed this. He was good at hiding it. And that’s my second earliest memory. That uncle went on to molest me for several years, forcing me to give him oral and receive oral from him. It took several years for me to be comfortable giving oral and even longer to receive. He would threaten my family, and buy me toys he knew I wanted so badly and then tell me I owed him. I still can’t accept gifts from men. He wasn’t the last to use buying me things as a way to get me to do sexual favors. I told my mom on him and ended up calling the cops on him once when he wanted me to lie down so he could touch me and go down on me. I lied after he made me go down on him and told him I had to pee. I’ll never forget good last words to me before I ran downstairs to call the cops. “Don’t wipe.” I went back upstairs to stall him and make sure he was caught redhanded.

I was five at the oldest.

He wasn’t the only one at that time molesting me. My biological father, whom I never call my dad, always Tim, had a father who started out by “inspecting” me. He’d take me somewhere we’d be alone and tell me to pull my pants down. Then he’d touch and look at me and have me move this way and that so he could see better. Tim ended up living on his land and every summer I had to go visit Tim for six weeks. While there, Tim would scream at me constantly, kick me, isolate me, and control every aspect of what I did. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, to play with my bike, to play with toys, to use his bathroom, to eat unless I had permission. I was a slave to Tim. I was seven and younger and had to cook, clean, hold his cigarette while he smoked, (he had no arms, also it wasn’t just nicotine he smoked,) and any other thing he wanted me to do. When I was bad, he sent me to spend the night with his father. I remember one night in particular where Tim’s girlfriend stole my book my father had bought me (stepfather technically but always my dad,) and crossed out my name and wrote her name in it. When I confronted her, she pooped in Tim’s bathroom, didn’t flush, and told her I’d done it. In retaliation, he made me go up to his father’s to spend the next day and night. That night, he made me stand wide awake in the corner all night long, telling me he’d beat me if I got out and he’d be watching me while he slept with one eye open. I was too afraid of him to turn around and see of if was watching so I stood in the corner all night. The next night when I was condemned to sleep at his father’s, after dinner, his father Joe told me to make sure I took my panties off and put them under my pillow when I went to bed. He then raped me for hours. I don’t know if it was his penis or his fingers, but he was definitely inside me. It hurt and I asked him to stop. He didn’t for another half hour. This went on four years until I finally told Tim’s brother’s wife, and she called the police.

The police spent an hour trying to convince me I’d made it up. Trying to convince me that I’d dreamt it or I’d seen it on tv but it hadn’t happened to me. I didn’t change my story and I was sent for a rape kit, scheduled a week after the rape. Before I was called in, Tim showed up in the hospital and screamed and screamed at me, calling me the nastiest things I’ve ever been called. I hid behind the tv in the corner and cried. I still remember everything he said to me. He called me a paranoid schizophrenic who believed everyone was out to get me. He told me and everyone in the waiting room IF his father did what I said, it was because I’d tempted him to do it, I instigated It. I was seven. A police officer escorted him out and threatened him to shut him up when I was called back for the rape kit. It hurt worse than the rape and was even more humiliating because they took pictures. I cried during that too and couldn’t pee for a week from the pain, it hurt that bad.

Tim then told everyone he was sorry, he broke down crying but everyone knew it was fake. He wouldn’t let my mom leave with me, he demanded I go home with him. The police officer stepped in again and told him I was going home with my mom one way or another. He finally said okay but wouldn’t agree until my mom promised to stop by his place, where his father lived, (Tim lived in a camper on his land,) to pick up a doll house he’d just bought me. I remember the cop taking my mom aside and telling her not to go back to his house because he was not going to let us leave. He told her to speed all the way out of North Carolina and he’d make sure no cop stopped us.

In order to press charges, the courts wanted me to testify in open court with Tim and my rapist in the room with me. They wanted me to tell them everything while Joe and his lawyer tried to discredit me. My mom tried to beg them to let me prerecord my story and present it that way, or at least have Joe and Tim not in the room. They refused. I had nightmares for months. She eventually pulled me out, but I never stopped having night terrors for many years.

My mom’s mom’s husband also molested me, but I only know of the one time. My aunt would come over to my mom’s house, Ann, with her three kids, and spend the night. She’d drug her kids with sleeping pills every night. I saw her putting the pills in our drinks one night and I didn’t drink that night. I was still awake when Ann’s husband came into the room and molested me and my much younger female cousin. I know my aunt and her kids had been there with me before so I don’t know if she’d ever drugged me before and if Ann’s husband touched me before. I just know of the once. And I never went back.

His son also molested and raped me, but I don’t blame him as much because he was young and had obviously grown up seeing it and thinking it was normal. He stopped when I fought back.

My cousin raped me when I was eighteen. He’d also forced me to go down on him. He threatened the life of my four year old niece when I fought back. I tricked him by making him think I wanted to have sex with him and wanted to tie him up (he was into being tied.) I tied him to my dresser and ran.

At that time, there was a man living with us. (My mom, second stepfather Bob, and me.) He gave me a bad feeling and I told my mom. She didn’t believe me until she cleaned his room one day and found a diary detailing his plan to lure me into the woods with him and a knife, rape me, and kill me, then have a threesome with my sister and her four year old daughter. He was obviously kicked out.

I had a boyfriend at seventeen who would pressure me into sex constantly and would continue pressuring me when I said no until I said yes. Once he pinned me and wouldn’t let me up until I said yes.

I had another boyfriend who wanted to do anal with me. I told him no constantly, then one day when we were doing it doggy style, he slipped it into my ass and kept going. I didn’t know I could say no. After that, any time we had sex, he’d end up eventually shoving it into my ass. No lube, no foreplay, no warning. It hurt and I hated it.

I had another boyfriend who also wanted to do anal, half because I’d “let” my previous ex do it, and he wanted to be inside every part of me and wanted to do what I “let” my ex do. I told him no, I didn’t like it, and he eventually convinced me to let him try fingering me there during vaginal sex. I hated it. It turned me off so much that when he did it RIGHT when I was cumming, or about to cum, it would stop that entirely. It just turned me off to the point I would literally just instantly dry up. No matter how close to orgasm I was. I told him that and he made me feel bad, like it was my fault, and I was ruining the sex with him because of it. So I let him do it. This same ex got me pregnant, emotionally and mentally abused me constantly by making horrible disparaging comments about me to me, snapped my phone in half for talking to my dad every day because obviously I was having an affair with him, threw my laptop at concrete because I refused to stop talking to my friends, and beat me while I was eight months pregnant. He strangled me, punched me, pushed me, shoved me to the ground and got on top of me and violently slapped my face. Because I went to the er and didn’t tell him until my parents went to bed so they wouldn’t eavesdrop. And also because he was trying to force me to move three hours away from my hospital to an area with the closest hospital being an hour away and not equip to handle high risk pregnancies. This hospital he wanted me to go to almost killed my pregnant best friend because they had no idea what they were doing. They almost killed my niece, me, and several others because they’re literally the worst hospital. Not only was that hospital so bad, I was having a very high risk pregnancy with spd, preterm early labor, and severe preeclampsia, and he wanted to live with him mom who had no car, no phone. And he wanted to live with her because he wanted to quit his job and not work. He worked at pizza hut for two hours a day twice a week. I, with pregnancy issues, worked 12-14 hours a day every day and was never allowed to complain or go to sleep before two am because his day was so hard and he wanted to talk and have sex. I got up for work every morning at 7, worked until sometimes ten, and he would never let me go to sleep until at the earliest two am. He was horrible.

My next ex was emotionally worse. He said the nastiest shit to me. He called me an almost-murderer for a miscarriage I had when I was nineteen that emotionally destroyed me. He forced me to confirm to his religion and his God that believed women were inferior to men. He knows I’m a hardcore Wiccan feminist, and he tried to force me to be a 1950’s stay at home mom. I was forced to stop working, wasn’t allowed to go outside the apartment without permission, wasn’t allowed to read or write, (I’m an author,) had to take care of both my toddler and his toddler alone without help, clean the house and keep it clean, never talk back to him, never ask questions, wasn’t allowed to feel or think my own thoughts, and when I told him how I felt, he would tell me I was complaining and start yelling at me. I was fucked up physically from my pregnant and can’t stand on my feet for long. He would get pissed if I spent any time sitting down and there were more than two dishes in the sink. He could take days, weeks, to do his chores (laundry and trash and only because I wasn’t allowed outside ever,) but if I took more than two days to was dishes, he would call me lazy and say the nastiest shit to me.

He kept starting fights over anal. I told him at the start of the relationship I hate anal. I do. I hate it so fucking much. It is not, and never will be, a pleasurable thing to me. Even when it isn’t painful, it is just straight up unpleasant. It turns me off so much. He knew that at the beginning and even agreed that he didn’t like it. Then suddenly he was starting fights over it because he wanted it so much. At first I told him no. He kept pushing and I said fine, I’ll try it. He kept telling me I hated it because it had been done wrong and if it was fine right, he knew I’d live it because God had told him I would. So he did it RIGHT. Lube, preparation, foreplay, vaginal stimulation–still turned me off. The second he started fingering me there, I was completely turned off to sex, even when he was going down on me or fingering me vaginally or rubbing my clit. It turned me off. But I let him do it, I let him have anal sex with me. I hated it.

I told him we could do it sometimes, but he didn’t like that. He wanted to do it any time he wanted it. When I said no, at first he’d just get sulky. Then he started fights. The fights escalated to him telling me he was leaving and I said fine, until he cornered me in the bathtub and gave an hour long speech about how I had no bodily anatomy, he had full control over my body, I had no rights to my own body, I had to give him what he wanted and when, nobody would love me like he did, nobody could because I’m so difficult that nobody would be able to ever handle me but him. He was the only one who could. Nobody else wanted me. At that point the fight had been going on for hours and I knew he wasn’t going to leave or stop until I just gave in. So I did. We did anal a few more times with him telling me I’d really love it eventually. When I didn’t start liking it, he bought a vibrator so he could use that to brainwash me into liking anal. He used to vibrator on me while fingering my ass, and before he started fingering me, I was cumming and enjoying myself. Even just one finger started to turn me off. Two more, and three to the point all I could focus on was his fingering me and I hated it. My entire demeanor changed and he noticed it enough to ask me if it hurt. I told him yes and he stopped. That was when I knew without a doubt that he had no idea what he was talking about and anal was never, ever going to be something I enjoy. I know my body. I know what I do and do not like. Anal is never going to be something I’ll like. And the fact that he couldn’t accept that really drove the point home that he didn’t, and would never, respect me.

I had a miscarriage due to his psychological abuse. I got pregnant again and he wouldn’t let me go to a hospital or set up a doctor or insurance. I’m high risk. I have multiple issues that need to be constantly watched when pregnant. I went through a period during the beginning of this pregnancy that left me in crippling pain constantly. I would pass out. I’d be in constant pain. And he’d still leave me all day with two toddlers and say horrible things to me when I told him I was passing out, throwing up blood, and in pain. He’d call me lazy and say I was using it as an excuse. I wasn’t. I’m fine now, but that lasted weeks and he refused to let me rest or go to a hospital.

He would make me get both toddlers dressed and ready when we went anywhere without help, then get pissed at me and take off leaving me with two disappointed tantrum throwing toddlers if I took more than a minute to get myself ready. I was rejected to get myself ready WHILE getting both toddlers ready by myself. I can’t get dressed, brush my hair, and brush my teeth, and pee while dressing two male toddlers.

It got to the point that when we were going places, my toddler would have an attack and tell that daddy was going to leave us when I was putting him in the car seat. He would also freak out and tell that daddy was going to leave me once he was in the car seat and I wasn’t in the car.

This man has no respect for women in general. He forced me to change every aspect of my personality. Made me feel bad about my physical problems and being autistic. Constantly told me I needed to be “fixed,” and refused to respect my sexual boundaries. He was the epitome of everything I’ve ever feared. He took my control away, my dignity, my independence, my freedom, everything. This man, along with the others, is a sexist, misogynistic person. This is a very common religious type in his beliefs. This and the men like him can’t figure out what no means, and can’t respect it.

It’s men like them that give men a bad name, but most men just want to scream #notallmen, instead of confronting and stopping men like this. If ALL men would stand up and realize these men are real, common, and wrong, things would change. If men would stand up and fight WITH us instead of against is, men like the ones in my story would cease to be so common. Men are our most treasured allies, but so many remain cemented in their stubborn #notallmen beliefs that they are our enemies. Men, I beg you. Your voices are important. You are important. You are the key to change. Stop fighting us, and fight WITH US.

We are not your enemies.

#yesallwomen #submission #personal #personal stories

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