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Constipated Toxic Waste Storage

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Iris needed a lot of money and soon. She was ashamed the only way she'd figured out how to get it was starring in an obscene video. She took solace in the fact that she was promised she wouldn't have to show any sex organs or perform any sex acts. All she had to do was eat and poop.

She stayed at a hotel for the weeklong shoot. It was a nice place, and the director's people paid for everything, but there was something scary about knowing she couldn't leave the premises without forfeiting thousands of dollars. She was filmed at every meal. She had to eat what they gave her. She was filmed every day being examined by a leggy blonde in a sexy nurse outfit. She was filmed every time she went to the bathroom. Between skillful camerawork and the strategic placement of props and body parts Iris' womanhood never made an appearance. However her anxiety and shame were still at high levels every time she peed and she was sure they'd go through the roof when she pooped. She didn't know when that would be. Between the meals the maid served her and the pills the nurse gave her Iris' bowels had slowed to a standstill.

The director liked costumes. There was always the Swedish nurse (who Iris doubted was medically qualified) and the French maid (who boasted a fake accent and real breasts) to see to Iris' needs. The so-called star of this poopy video played a different role each day. On the first day Iris had to dress as a Playboy bunny and eat two dozen carrots. The camera rolled while she sat on the toilet that evening and the following morning, but she couldn't poop. The nurse informed her of the increase to her weight and waistline, reminding her of just how much disgusting waste was festering inside her body. That was only the first day.

Iris asked if she could wear something less risqué the next day and so she was given mouse ears and adorable pyjamas with paws and a tail. She was feeling gleefully childish until the maid removed the lid from a silver tray to reveal a wheel of cheese the size of birthday cake. When she remembered how much money was at stake she ate through that stinky yellow horror right down to the last nibble. She sat on the toilet a few more times before her next meal, but nothing solid would come out. The nurse's examination revealed Iris was growing marvelously in the area of the stomach and intestines.

On day three the maid was wearing cute pigtails and did Iris' hair up to match. Iris' costume this time around was a dirndl and her meal was a string of preservative-laden sausages. The director was nice enough to let her stop eating when she announced she was nearing her puking point. They did the toilet scene a little different that day. The maid brought in an authentic Bavarian chamber pot and Iris sat down on it and strained until she was short of breath. Not so much as a fart came out. The nurse examined her, excitedly announced her abdomen's statistics, and expressed sadness that the production couldn't afford the medical imaging equipment needed to intimately document a crammed colon. She hastened to add that Iris' constipation posed no health risk and there was no need to evacuate her bowels anytime soon.

On the fourth day Iris was given a saucy sailor suit to put on, shown a vintage pin-up she was supposed to emulate, and given a pile of hardtack to eat. She'd had enough.

"You hired me to poop so let me poop!" she yelled as she knocked the plate out of the maid's hand. It looked great, so the director made the maid pick everything up and she and Iris redid the scene for the cameras.

Finally he answered the woman's question. "You'll poop whenever your guts say so. If you're still plugged up on day seven you get your choice of laxative or enema. If you really wanna be a star in these videos I suggest the enema."

"What do I have to do to get a laxative now?"

"Give up half your payment."

Iris was hurting for money, but she was hurting worse for a dump. She made the decision. The nurse brought a bedpan and an extra strength laxative. The director stopped them right before she swallowed. He'd just had a brilliant idea. They could end the shoot early if there was a grand finale.

Iris waited in dread while the preparations were made. The director assured her she could quit at any time if it got too intense for her. The climax of this dirty little film turned out to be even worse than Iris' nightmares.

In came two women she'd never seen. Big mean-looking women. One was wearing torn clothes and a bunch of spikes and the other was dressed head to toe in leather and carried a whip. Iris would've pooped her pants if she'd been physically capable.

"Don't worry, the weapons are just for looks," one said in between whip-cracks.

"Don't take this personally, we're just struggling actresses like you," said the other.

Iris didn't find this reassuring. She screamed for the director. He decided this was a good time to show her what her payment would look like in cash.

"Do your worst, bitches!" she said once she'd gotten an eyeful of hundred dollar bills.

The two young women proceeded to bully her while the cameras rolled. The poor woman got pushed around and smacked around and wasn't allowed to fight back. Once they thought she had enough bruises and pulled muscles they tied her up and made a mockery of her body. The punk girl took off a sock and stuffed it in Iris' mouth, which wasn't fair because now she had no freedom to say "I quit!"

They exposed Iris' none-too-slim midriff to the camera and wrote the words "constipated toxic waste storage" on her skin. Neither actress knew how to draw hazard symbols so the cameras had to stop while the annoyed director drew them himself. The girl in leather teased the bound woman with a plethora of torture devices before eventually selecting a two-gallon jug of prune juice. The sock was removed and the victim was force-fed.

When the container was finally drained and the tube was out of Iris' mouth she started to protest to the director, but next thing she knew there were two socks in her mouth. The rough pair yanked Iris' panties down and plopped her body down on the toilet. It took three takes to get it right because her skirt had to stay on so her naughty bits would be covered. Iris was thankful for this tiny morsel of dignity.

She sat on the pot for an hour while her digestive tract did its work. When the movement started it was like passing boulders and when it was finished it was like passing lava. The pain brought tears to the eyes of the budding actress and the smell brought tears to the eyes of one of the cameramen. She got queasy and threw up a little, but had no choice but to gulp it back down. The toilet bowl filled up so full that its user ended up sitting on a cushion of filth, and still more came out of her. The feelings, sights, sounds, smells, and tastes Iris experienced were hideous beyond description.

When the noises had stopped for ten minutes the director decided his star was finished relieving herself. "Great job! You earned every penny. You're free as soon as you complete the final scene with the nurse."

"Somebody needs a sponge bath!" the nurse said perkily as she removed the ropes from her patient. "Uh-oh, anal bleeding!" she remarked when she lifted the limp body off the toilet seat.

"Next time I'll audition for the part of the maid," an exhausted Iris joked once her mouth was free of socks.

"I wouldn't if I were you," said the maid who had just entered the scene. "Who do you think has to clean the toilet?"