(A little title I tinkered on for a while, more comedic sci-fi. More than likely, it will enter a Filmic Cut in the future, rather than a lone release. But who knows, maybe you’ll like it. I mean, it’s Doctor Who meets bowel movements… – OJ)

Jed Ertwhistle needed the loo.

Bad.

The rush from his desk to the staff lavatory was one that eclipsed even the finer of sprinters. This was less a speedy run from one location to another, more a dangerous, race-against-time, action scenario. There was a ticking time bomb in his bowel, and unless Jed got to a safe distance, and let it off in a contained environment, it was disaster for all involved. Therefore, with thrusting acceleration and clenched buttocks, he ran.

This motion was not without causing a hilarious spectacle, of course. The sight of Jed hopping with speed, hands desperately clutched upon his hind, made many a titter sneak out of his co-workers mouths. Yes, they would mock, but in this scenario long term dignity was the priority. Anything he’d lose in the short term, would be wiped out by a public faecal explosion. The toilet dance was light, public pooing was destructive.

Luckily, he arrived at the cubicle just in time. With one fluid motion, Jed lashed off his lower garments just as a colossal stream of faeces blasted from his anus, near-shattering the bowl below. There was an intense feeling of pleasure Jed got, as the process of pooing took it’s natural, and mildly violent, course. The tangible relief he had in the simple act of passing a bowel movement was as close to orgasmic as it got without another person present. Or a good bit of porn. They say that the male G-spot is located in the prostate, which is why a good poo can feel so excellent. At this moment, Jed didn’t care about the science; he was just enjoying a damn fine dump.

Once the first assault had left, he sat there in calm silence waiting for the second round to commence. This was the down-time; the moment when you could do nothing but sit there with your trousers round your ankles, while your organs decided what to do next. Thing churned and groaned beneath the surface, and there was still a bit of pressure around the abdominal region. Pangs of pain hit briefly at times, suggesting more was in bound. Wiping, at this stage, was not an option.

All Jed could do, was wait.

Thankfully, he had his phone in his pocket. Back in the day, a gentleman was resigned to having to secure reading material nearby, to facilitate the pooing process. A handy book of facts, piece of cheap literature, or even a newspaper would help you relax while pushing the remaining waste out. In public lavatories, such tomes were rarely available; all you had were the sometimes amusing, but often illiterate, ravings written on the door in moments of boredom. Jed had seen many a limerick or phone number offering a ‘blowie’ in his time. Luckily, he had never been drunk enough, or desperate enough, to take up such offers.

In this day and age however, we had phones. With a swipe of your finger, you could surf the net, check your Twitter or even take part in the tradition of reading a book on the throne. Right now, Jed was keeping it simple with a quick check of the social networks. The blogs, the profiles, and the Chirps. All this, while his guts decided to start moving shit around.

Literally.

With each squirm and plop, he read the latest on what shenanigans his friends had been up to. It was the usual mix of interesting stuff, mindless guff, and jealousy-inducing joys. A casual ‘like’ here, a cryptic status there, he did enjoy the drama that the modern world provided. It was like having his own little soap opera in the palm of his hand. After catching up with the highs and lows of his fellows, it was time to click on various links diverting him to more mindless tales. While scanning the lost words of the internet, Jed wondered whether to play a game to pass the time, but the flow from his buttocks had calmed a little. A game would be too engrossing at this juncture. This was serious business now.

Indeed, it was now down to the thorny issue of the last bit. Everyone knows the one; that last piece of poo that just refuses to leave your bowel. It clings on until you muster the effort to expel it from your anus through pure, aggressive force. This is the one that fights back, refuses to budge, and won’t simply let nature take it’s course. In this eternal battle, you need to stand up (again, not literally), be a man, and force that fucker out.

So, with a deep breath, Jed closed his eyes and pushed. Every muscle that needed to be used came into force, and his eyes watered with the effort. A low grunt emitted from his throat as the tension mounted between his buttocks. Then, for a moment, he felt very fuzzy. It was as if he was going to pass out, but soon he heard a satisfying noise ring out from below.

Splash.

Jed sighed, and felt the relief that one gets when they’ve finally passed the last poo. With a smile on his face, he took a breath, and reached for the loo roll. The phone was swiftly pocketed, the torn paper was folded, and the business of wiping was put into full force. A few swipes later, and the mound of loo roll was flushed away along with the ex-contents of Jed’s stomach. With an approving nod, he watched it wash away, and unlocked the cubicle to go back to work.

Job. Done.

Making sure to wash his hands, Jed gave them the old shake-dry, and left to go back to his computer. He had been in there a while, and hoped he wouldn’t fall victim to the stern eye of his superiors. He surely thought that they’d understand such anal activity, but time was money in the world of business. Before he entered the office again, he composed himself, and stepped inside with a new skip in his step.

Thanks to a flatter, and less waste-filled, stomachal area.

When he opened the door, Jed found he needn’t have worried about stern eyes. In fact, there were no eyes at all. Nor were there ears, noses, mouths or, for that matter, people. No bosses, no colleagues, not even a rogue cleaner sauntering about.

In fact, the whole office was looking most unproductive.

They had all gone. Vanished. Poofed into thin air. Jed, post-poo, was the only person standing in the room. Alone. With just his feeling of toilet wellbeing for company.

He thought to himself that something very odd was going on.

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