This is the BM Collection of the Amalot Collections. I feel the need for a DISCLAIMER here ... because the stories in this collection are ESPECIALLY nasty! They deal with excrement. BM, in case you didn't know, stands for "Bowel Movement," which is basically pooing. So if the thought of people going #2 is disturbing or disgusting to you, then DON'T READ ANY FURTHER!!! And if you do read anyway, don't complain, because YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Ok?
Good, now that that's taken care of, let's begin.
Note: I really hate repeating myself, but ... these stories DON'T have titles, those are just for reference purposes ... so that when you tell me what story you like I'll know which one, and not be like "the one where the dude takes a shit," which is basically all of them, and then I would be confused.
Stuart Little
It’s a very common little fact, that mice like feces. And some mice, as we all know (here’s lookin’ at you, Stuart Little!), REALLY like feces! Not necessarily human feces, but feces none the less. Feces, also known as “BM product,” which means, the result of a BM, which is loosely translated in some non-english languages as “Butt Muffin.” This is a story of a mouse. A mouse that likes feces. In fact, he didn’t just like it; he stalked it. He was obsessed with it. He had naked pictures of feces on his wall, and his computer. You know what he did with it—he did “you know what” with the “you know what” in the “you know where.” And then he had a BM.
THE END
BM is Life
One day while I was sitting in the BM room after being pantsed by my bestest friend Sally the “white ho,” I was pondering the meaning of life, and BM’s. Why do we have BM’s, I wondered. Is it to rid our bodies of waste products, or is there a more spiritual meaning to the art of the BM? I was soon distracted from these thoughts. After a few minutes of groaning and moaning, grunting, shoving, pushing, heavy breathing, and a final release of all that built up pressure, the couple in the stall next to me exited the BM room, leaving me (thankfully) alone with my thoughts, and my BM. So I started thinking again—as I also started something else. Perhaps the point of the BM is to enrich our lives, force us to struggle, and struggle, and struggle, as I was doing then, my fist ripping the empty toilet paper roll in two as I struggled. Then after the struggle, we learn a little more about ourselves, about life, and about death—the death of the BM means freedom for us all. And a little pudding in the pot is a small price to pay for freedom … right?
THE END
My #2 Favorite Hobby
My #2 favorite hobby of all time is having a BM. Nothing can compare to the joyous times in our lives when we go out and meat someone new, then invite them to meat us in the bushes, and share that one sacred bond that no one can take away from us—the BM. Having a BM together enriched my life, and my 3 boyfriends’ and 4 girlfriends’. Having BM’s brought us together—it can do the same for you. Why not go into your BM room, taking your cell phone with you, and speaking to your loved one, or significant other, or friend-with-benefits, as they, two, take a seat in their BM room, and meat with you over the phone, as you share that sacred, inseparable bond together, pushing for that final release that makes you go “Ahhh!” and feel just so damn fresh and clean. And sexy. Or, better yet, why not gather up a bunch of friends, and a conference call or speaker phone, and have a BM orgy! I get butterflies in my rectum just thinking about it. In fact, I think I’m going to go have one right now! A BM, that is. My #2 favorite thing to do. Next to soiling myself.
THE END
The BM Party
It was a dark, stormy night. I was sitting in my BM room, reading the evening paper, when suddenly, upon my door there was a knocking! Suddenly the door flew open, and there were, like, 50 people there, all watching me having a BM. I vainly tried to cover my naked, luscious body from their gaze with the paper but, well, it was only 8.5” by 11”. It barely even covered the BM that was just now emerging from its cocoon, a lovely, precious, and most colorful little butterfly! Unfortunately, upon seeing my ecstasy, the other members of the “BM pary” decided to meat me in the BM room, and share my experience with me. Unfortunately, I prefer to be “alone with myself” when a BM occurs upon my person; it is a much more “enjoyable” experience for me, all around, that way. However, being the hospitable host that I am, I allowed them all to cum into my state-of-the-art high tech BM room, complete with jars for the collection of said BM. As the guests admired my exquisite collection (I have one that looks like that peanut that looks like Abraham Lincoln!), I quickly and quietly finished my “actions” and excused myself from the room, locking them in on the way out. After all … I don’t want them tarnishing my beautiful collection, now, do I?
THE END
Did you like those? Huh, huh, Didja, DIDJAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA??? Good, I'm glad that you did. And yes, you DID. Don't try saying otherwise! Because that would be a lie.
There are more of these on their way ... I 'll let you know when. For now, go look at the rest of the treasures in Amalot ... k?
