Dripping Blood When I Poop Novels & Stories

When I look down to flush the toilet, I notice blood. “Nurse,” I call. “I think something’s wrong.” Every part of me is screaming that this isn’t right. She enters the bathroom and I show her the toilet. She looks away, but not before I notice the concerned look on her face. “Okay, I’ll help you to bed and then call the doctor,” she says. I tell myself not to panic and take deep breaths. It could mean anything, and all of them could be nothing troubling. When I get to the bed, the urge to pee comes again, even after going to the bathroom. And then a torrent of fluid gushes from between my legs. It’s everywhere on the floor and seeping into my PJs.

The pain in my lower belly intensified, and I felt something trickling down my legs. Was that… blood?

What the hell is wrong with me? I sit there in pain until it passes and I’m able to use the bathroom. I then prepare to wipe when I’m notice the blood stains on my pants and my clothing. I wipe quickly and look to find that I am bleeding excessively. I quickly try to jump in the shower and wash up when I hear the front door close. Francisco was one for bad timing.

"Look what you did to me, Nora." I pulled back, tears streaming down my cheeks, and glanced down. His cock was slicked with blood, my blood—a vibrant, shocking red smeared across his shaft and gathering at the base. More dribbled from where we were joined, dripping onto the white porcelain sink, swirling pink with the condensation. "Oh my god," I breathed. "Daddy, I'm bleeding." "Virgin blood." He sounded wrecked. "Your virgin blood is all over my fucking cock. You bled for me, baby. Only for me."

I am so lost. I sigh as finally, my mind begins to drift back to what happened earlier. I close my eyes and think back to Michael's actions, his gaze, and his face and I feel myself starting to be agitated again. My lower abdomen is starting to heat up again and my crotch is tickling me. It's so embarrassing when I feel like something is dripping from my crotch. I decided to check to put a finger and it was the same liquid as on my panties. Jeanne, I'm sick.

The blood dropped from in between my legs to the floor in the haunting drip sound. I woke with a jolt. Panting. Sweat poured down my face, my chest heaving like I had been running a marathon. My heart was thumping so hard against my chest, causing pain. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare. But the pain was still there. Dragging from my lower abdomen to between my thighs. The thick coppery stench of blood still hung to me. It wouldn’t let go. My hand trembled as I reached down, then stopped. Terrified of what I would find.

I was thirsty as hell and gasped deeply for water, but found no sign of it anywhere. My strength was leaving me, and my senses were about to be extinguished, as I collapsed onto the ground. From the corner of my eye, I saw some reddish liquid drip and tried to reach for it as my mouth had dried completely. Looking for the source of it, my eyes travelled upwards, and to my horror, it was the deer's blood dripping from the corner of his repulsive mouth.

At least I could sleep peacefully there. Susan fixed me some soup then gave me her spare room to spend the night. I was tired and wanted to sleep and forget everything that happened during the day. I bit Susan goodnight and went to bed. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep but the next time I woke up I wanted to pee. I rushed to the bathroom and peed. When I wiped there was blood on the toilet paper, not a little but a lot of it. I wiped again and more blood. I screamed in horror and Susan came running.

There's a wetness between my legs that wasn't there before, and when my hand slides down to investigate, my heart stops. Sticky warmth. Unmistakable texture. I yank my hand back, and even in the dim light filtering through the curtains, I can see the dark stain on my fingers. Blood. I'm bleeding... my body is cramping and I'm bleeding. No! Please, no! I stumble out of bed on unsteady legs, fumbling as I switch on the lamp. The evidence is there on the pristine white sheets— a small but unmistakable crimson stain that looks like everything I've ever feared.

And promptly begin to throw up. I’ve never vomited blood before, but the sink is now stained with it. My belly is burning, as if a thousand knives are stabbing me on the inside. Clutching the edge of the sink, I try to stay upright as I empty the entire contents of my stomach. The blood is a dark color. In between throwing up and ignoring the pounding on the door, I stared dimly at the clots of blood. It’s not a dark red. It’s black. I’m vomiting black blood.