Little Snoz clenched his fat behind in anguish. He could feel it. He could feel it coming. Snoz knew this feeling oh too well, it was the reason he had been teased as a child. Rejected by not only society, but by his own bum.
Snoz bent over, he had learnt from years of experience that this was the most effective way to deal with the struggles. He then began the slow walking, ensuring his knees and toes were touching that of the opposing leg, to stop ~it~ from going anywhere it shouldn't go. As Snoz reached the room permanently reeking with the putrid smell of human waste, he gave in and relaxed the muscles of his rear end.
Snoz lent over the toilet, he was fluent with the same old routine by now, after all, it had been 19 years of this. He doesn't normally need to push very hard for the meadow muffins to come out because Snoz's bottom has a mind of its own... But that day was different. The fecal matter didn't come out easily. Snoz had to push. Snoz pushed, pushed and pushed again, He even had to sit on the toilet seat because the excretion wasn't exiting Snoz's bum easily at all. After about 30 unanticipated seconds wasted on pushing this dung out of his rump, Snoz felt a pang of pain--like a miniature hand had just punched his butt cheeks.... Little did Little Snoz know, a miniature hand had literally just punched his butt cheeks.
