Ally had been looking forward to this date for weeks. She had spent hours determining the perfect outfit, trying on countless combinations before finally settling on a pair of white, skin-tight jeans that hugged her curves perfectly. As she got ready, she couldn't help but feel a rumble in her stomach; it was one of those days when her bowels were being particularly insistent.
Despite this, she decided to ignore the uncomfortable feeling and focus on the evening ahead. Her date arrived promptly at 7:30, and Ally couldn't help but feel a surge of attraction towards him. He was tall, dark, and handsome, with a grin that could melt even the coldest of hearts.
As they walked to the restaurant, Ally felt the pressure in her stomach growing stronger with every step. She tried to distract herself by chatting animatedly about work and their shared interests, but the nagging pain just wouldn't go away. By the time they arrived at the restaurant, she was ready to burst.
They were seated at a cozy corner table, the scent of the delicious food wafting over to them. Ally couldn't help but eye the bathroom, wondering if she could sneak off for a moment. However, her date had already ordered for her, and she didn't want to appear rude by leaving the table.
The first course arrived: a platter of delicious-looking sushi. Ally forced herself to eat slowly, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in her gut. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold it in.
Just as she was reaching for her wine glass, she felt a gush of hot, wet liquid spill out of her jeans. It's okay, she thought to herself, I can explain this away as an accident. But then another gush followed, and she knew she was in deep trouble.
Her date turned to look at her with concern, noticing the growing wet patch at the crotch of her jeans. Ally felt her face flush with embarrassment, unable to meet his gaze. Suddenly, all she could think about was getting out of there as fast as possible.
Without a word, she excused herself from the table and hurried off to the bathroom. She locked herself in a stall and took off her soaked jeans, seeing the thick turd glistening on the cotton. A mix of humiliation and arousal coursed through her veins as she realized what had just happened.
Feeling helpless, she sat there for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She knew she had to face her date eventually and hoped for the best. When she finally mustered up the courage to leave the stall, she saw that her date had left a note on the mirror: "Sorry Ally, but I don't think this is going anywhere. Good luck with your... mess."
As she walked out of the bathroom, she couldn't help but feel a sense of finality wash over her. The date had been nothing short of a disaster, and it was all because of her secret fetish. Ally had always been aroused by the idea of shitting in tight clothing, of feeling the warmth and weight of her own feces against her skin. Yet she had never expected it to ruin a perfectly good date.
With a heavy heart, she walked out of the restaurant, wondering where to go from here. One thing was certain, though – she couldn't hide this secret from herself, or anyone else, any longer.
