What Do You Want To See?

Hello again, my poopie freaks. I was wondering what you guys love to read about. I know I'm into all fecal and scatological, oh and corn! I love freaking corn! Mmm... Especially I love to pick out of my poop! But, what else would you guys love to read about. I'm thinking about trying new things. Maybe more period blood, vomit, Maybe licking my dirty panties with the lovely fish aroma.

Post in the comments what you love to read about. What would you love for the Popanator to try? The nastier the better. MMmm.... I still don't see why people get offended at times whenever I talk about how I love my own juices. Everything that comes out of my body is wonderful and delicious.

Hopefully, soon I'll find a new love. Someone I could share delicious corn laden poo with. The biggest expression of love is sharing poopies. I used to love eating Ethan's poopies because it was a part of him, now in me. That's why I have trouble forgetting him, but summer is comming up and its time to go out there and find a new corn laden soulmate.

So, post in the comments what you want the Popanator to try!

Fecal Abortion

Every so often, I have to hold a funeral for one of my delicious, beautiful poopies. Every time a poopy leaves my body, it feels like a fecal abortion because of how much I love my shit. I try to keep them inside me sometimes, but sooner or later they just have to come out. But once they're born, they never get up and grow into the wonderful poopy adults I know they could be. It makes me sad sometimes, knowing that my shit is never going to grow up and have a full life full of the poopy memories it ought to have.

My poopies are more than just the waste products of the foods I've eaten (which ironically enough are themselves just more shit). They're extensions of me, and a part of me that seems to die every time I squat and poop. I'd love to keep them with me forever, but I know it's just a part of the cycle of life. I weep a little bit, but then I take heart in knowing that all of the shits that came before are looking down on me from the great meadow in the sky.

Every time I make my offering to the god of meadow muffins, floaters and steamers (Moofus, I guess), I remember that I'm giving something back to the Earth.