Poop Drawing Novels & Stories

Theo was explaining goat ownership plans. Poppy was drawing family pictures. Harper rested against Noah. Daisy rested against Roman. For a while nobody spoke. The comfortable kind of silence. The family kind. Then Poppy suddenly looked up from her drawing. "I forgot something." Everyone looked over. "What?" Harper asked. Poppy held up her picture. There were stick figures everywhere. Noah. Harper. Theo. Herself. Roman. Daisy. Lillie. And several tiny new figures. "What are those?" Noah asked.

ODEYA. I left the poop on my clothes and then went back to the cracked wall, I placed the foil tape over it and cared less if the poop continued to burst out of it and stained my hands. It was useless to cry now, this was my situation and I needed to get used to it.

It happens that a woman just threw adult diapers in there. Mitchel immediately grabbed the garbage from the person and started chewing on the dirty diaper. Mitchel really enjoyed what was in his hands no matter how dirty and smelly it was. At that time there were several people passing and walking. They secretly recorded Mitchel's actions and uploaded them on social media with the caption, "Crazy people eat trash!"

That day he found no mates for his favourite play. I really liked the action of piss pigs. I realised how much spare liquid a human being can hold. I could tell those who had not urinated for a long time from those who had, however, emptied themselves before the session. When the piss got onto me I could tell who had drunk water, who had drunk beer, who had eaten pineapple, or raspberries, or who had even taken some medicine. All those kinds of piss are dear and precious to me.

“Therefore, there is more possibility that you are than you’re not. As you know from Samuel, the first mating usually results in a pup or two.” I sigh “Okay.” I turn around and lift the lid on the toilet, only this time, instead of throwing up, I turn and sit down. I remove the little cap and pee on the end of the stick. Once I am finished, I put the cap back on the stick and put it upside down on the cupboard next to the toilet. I wipe and then flush. By the time I stand at the sink once more and have washed my hands, the test is done.

Chloe_awesome_scott (Chloe) What is it, Soph? Are you okay? I_pooped No! I need you guys! Yes_you_suck (Mia) Istg, if this is a joke; you are a dead meat, Sophia. Chloe_awesome_scott Are you okay though, Soph? Is something wrong? I_ pooped Um...yeah, something is very wrong. Cereal_killer Spill. What is it? I_pooped I am bored. Chloe_awesome_scott ... Yes_you_suck You can consider yourself dead.

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.

Materials Left: Two used diapers (with the clean side facing outward, thank goodness) Four yogurt straws One missing hairpin from Mom Creative Inspiration: "Postmodern deconstructionist work — The Oppressed Human Cub Under Homework Pressure" Takuto’s tired mind reeled with ideas. This could be my magnum opus! He arranged the diapers into a shape that could be described as "kneeling and begging for mercy." The straws were expertly bent into an SOS signal. The hairpin, an obvious masterpiece, was placed in the center as a medal that he christened the "Survival Desire Gold Medal."

“I’ve seen it all!” My hand rested on my belly as the babies started kicking. Slowly, rubbing up and down, it felt so natural, so peaceful. “Okay. The next game will take a little bit so its is the last game.” Jo walked over to the corner and came out with a large tray. Six diapers were opened with what looked like different colored poop on them. “On these diapers is traditional baby food. The object is simple. Guess the food.” Setting it down on the counter, she picked up notepads. “Here is some paper. Write 1-8 down and start guessing!”

Cut away the fluff. Tobi reached into the pocket of his apron. He didn't pull out a speech. He pulled out a piece of charcoal and his sketchbook. With a speed born of adrenaline, he began to draw. The charcoal shrieked against the paper a raw, honest sound that the microphone picked up with startling clarity. "Wait, what is he doing?" Nike whispered, signaling the engineer to keep recording. "He’s drawing his answer?"