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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER – Tessa from Melbourne Australia is a total Daddy’s girl at age 27 and adores her father, who has since come out as gay and lives with his male partner Chad. With her boyfriend away for work and their housemates wanting some alone time on the weekend, Tessa goes to stay with her father and his boyfriend. Unfortunately, when helping them with their garden Tessa has a strong allergic reaction to a plant and her hands end up incapacitated, leaving the young woman dependent on her Daddy for everything. And when nature calls and Tessa needs to go to the toilet, things get really interesting.

This is a strong fetish story involving urination, scat and menstruation, as well as incestuous thoughts. If these themes are not your thing, you might be best to avoid reading this. Otherwise, please enjoy ‘Tessa’s Toilet Troubles’ and rate and comment. All characters are aged 18 and older, and are fictional, with any similarity to real people living or dead coincidental and unintentional.

***

Until the age of eleven, I was part of a perfect nuclear family growing up in the suburbs of Melbourne, Australia. There was my father Richard, my mother Kathleen, my brother Chris younger than me by three years and I was the daughter Tessa.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t to last and our family became one of many who split apart through divorce. The reason that our parents separated and then divorced was because my father had struggled with the secret that he was actually gay, and this eventually took its toll on the marriage.

While never 100 percent easy for kids whose parents separate, for Chris and I at least Mum and Daddy separated amicably and Chris and I got to spend time with both of them. This was important to me, Daddy and I were always really close. We shared the same hazel colored eyes, skin tone and nobody could tell whether our hair was blonde or really light brown. We of course differed in height, Daddy was a tall man at over six feet and I was a petite slim girl at just five feet two when barefoot. I was always a total Daddy’s girl all through childhood and adolescence, and even now a grown woman at age 27 I was still Daddy’s little girl at heart.

Mum remarried after the divorce, and we really liked our new stepfather and his son and daughter, obviously our stepsiblings. Daddy found happiness too, with a man 15 years younger named Chad. Daddy met Chad on a business trip to Canberra, and with Chad – who was in Canberra for a short holiday – also from Melbourne they began seeing each other and eventually moved in together.

While you could never tell from appearances and mannerisms that Daddy was gay – after all he had been married to a woman for 15 years and had two children – one could tell straight away that Chad was a homosexual. He had a very camp demeanor, effeminate appearance and speech patterns, worked at a women’s fashion boutique and was over the top exuberant.

I absolutely adored Chad, he had a great sense of humor and never failed to make me laugh, but my younger brother although polite was a bit more reserved with him. I just loved going places with Daddy and his boyfriend, just the three of us hanging out and having fun together. Maybe I was a ‘fag hag’ as well as a Daddy’s girl!

I of course did not live with Daddy and Chad, I had a partner named Justin and we lived together. Well, not completely on our own together. With property prices so high in Melbourne, to get the type of house we wanted in the area of Melbourne we desired to live in was impossible so we bought the house with another couple, Justin’s twin sister Rachel and her boyfriend Mark.

Sharing the house and mortgage with Rachel and Mark worked well for Justin and me. All of us were young and had careers so no kids on the horizon yet, and we all got along great. However, when one couple was away for the night or the weekend the other couple really enjoyed themselves in private, X rated ways. For example, when Rachel and Mark flew to Perth for five days to visit some relatives who lived in Western Australia, Justin and I did things that I would never dream of telling my parents about. I sucked Justin’s cock so many times in between him fucking me or him getting my knickers down and going down on me I lost count.

This particular weekend was an anniversary for Rachel and Mark, and by chance Justin was going away for a work conference to Queensland for the weekend, flying to Brisbane on Friday afternoon, and returning on Tuesday. This would have left me alone with Rachel and Mark for the weekend feeling like two is company and three is a crowd. So the solution was simple. I would go and stay with Daddy and Chad for the weekend and leave Rachel and Mark to enjoy themselves.

I worked my Friday schedule in the office so that I could drive Justin to the airport, which I did through the busy freeway traffic to Tullamarine. At the terminal, sakarya escort I flashed my boyfriend a cheeky smile and said, “Enjoy your junket, Justin.”

Justin laughed. “Tessa, I keep telling you it’s not a junket, its work.”

I giggled. “So spending tomorrow at Brisbane’s Southbank, a cruise on the river in the evening, team building exercises at Redlands Bay on Sunday and a full Monday on the Gold Coast is all work then? It’s not a junket?”

“No definitely one hundred percent work, zero chance of enjoying myself,” my boyfriend affirmed. “I think somebody might be a little jealous.”

“Maybe a little,” I conceded. I didn’t get to travel for my job very often, one three day work trip to Sydney last year was about it. And it didn’t go very well, work, work and more work with no free time to enjoy the Harbor City. Worse still, I caught a bad dose of the flu and was off work sick for a week after returning to Melbourne.

“Well, give my regards to your Dad and Chad,” said Justin. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

“You have a great flight and enjoy Queensland,” I said. The two of us embraced tightly, kissing deeply and I could feel my clitoris tingling and my panty saddle getting damp between my legs as our lips interlocked. We separated from our embrace as Justin went to check in for his flight.

I watched the fine and fit figure of my handsome boyfriend with his dark hair and brown eyes as I walked away through the crowded terminal, my pussy playing havoc in my panties. On Tuesday when Justin got back to Victoria my hands, mouth and vagina would be put to good use that was for sure.

Returning home, I packed some clothes for the long weekend, and drove to Daddy and Chad’s house, looking forward to spending some quality time with my father and his boyfriend. I pulled my car to a halt outside Daddy’s house, and carrying my bag rang the doorbell.

“Hi Daddy!” I exclaimed as my father rang the doorbell and opened the door to let me in, the two of us exchanging a hug, Daddy kissing me on the cheek.

“Hi Tessa, how was your day?” Daddy asked.

“Really good Daddy, I finished work early so I could drive Justin to the airport for his trip. How about you Daddy?”

“Oh, I can’t complain, but if I did my boss would never listen,” Daddy laughed, me joining in.

“And who do I think might be here?” came the effeminate, lisping voice of Chad from out of sight. “Could it be Melbourne’s most fabulous young lady?”

Red haired Chad’s slim figure soon appeared in the hallway, and he feigned surprise. “Well, I must be psychic, it is Melbourne’s most fabulous young lady.” He opened the door and we hugged. “How is Tessa today?”

“Tessa is really good, thank you Chad,” I said.

“Well, you look really good in black and white,” said Chad, indicating the white blouse, black skirt, black jacket and black pantyhose and black flat-heeled shoes I was wearing. “Those colors suit you.”

“I love black and white, they’re the colors of magpies, my favorite birds,” I said.

“Magpies ew, scary bad-tempered birds!” exclaimed Chad. “Magpies hate Chad, they swoop and chase Chad every chance they get and peck Chad on his head when all Chad is doing is minding his own business.”

I laughed, and so did Daddy.

“Chad, who else but you in the history of Australia gets chased by magpies in February, five months after their nesting season is finished?” Daddy asked.

“Clearly only me,” said Chad. He turned his attention back to me. “Your hair looks super fabulous today, Tess. Have you done anything different with it today?”

I had had my wavy light brown hair styled the same for years – a shoulder-length bob – so I hadn’t done anything different. “No, nothing different.”

“Well, keep on doing what you’re doing, because whatever it is your hair looks G R 8,” Chad gushed, Daddy and I laughing along with his games before we went inside.

*

On the Friday night, Chad, Daddy and I watched football together, the three of us probably more interested in the hunky and handsome young guys in their tight football shorts rather than the game itself. I had a good night’s sleep in the guest bedroom and Chad, Daddy and I went to the supermarket early on Saturday morning, then to a set of markets we liked before catching a tram into the city, walking along the Yarra River at Southbank, then up Swanston Street to a café we all liked for lunch. We must have seemed like an odd trio – a father, his adult daughter and the father’s boyfriend out for the day – but I didn’t care. I was spending time with two of my favorite people in my life.

Returning to Daddy’s house in the mid-afternoon, Chad, Daddy and I set off for the garden center. One of the projects we had lined up for our Sunday was to put in an Australian native garden bed, and we needed to collect the plants and landscaping supplies required. I had always liked gardening, so was only too pleased to be izmir escort helping my father and his boyfriend with their project.

After catching up with Justin on my phone on Saturday night, I woke up to a beautiful Sunday morning and after taking my run early, Daddy, Chad and I got ready for our busy day in the garden. I had brought some gardening clothes with me – a pair of worn short denim overalls that came down to my knees over an old tee-shirt, white socks and old white sneakers on my feet – and joined Daddy and Chad in working in the garden.

Everything was going fine – the day was bright and sunny and we were making good progress on the planting and mulching – when after planting a Grevillea groundcover my hands felt itchy. Not just itchy, burning like they were on fire. They felt hot, and so did I. I began to feel hot like I had suddenly teleported from the temperate climate of Melbourne and to the tropics of the Northern Territory capital of Darwin. The burning sensation in my hands got worse, and my fingers went numb. I began to sweat, and felt sick and dizzy.

Daddy looked up and immediately became concerned. “Are you okay, Tessa?”

“No Daddy, I don’t feel so well and my hands have gone numb,” I said.

Daddy hurried over and put his hand on my head. “You’re burning up, Princess, and look at your hands.”

My fingers were really swollen and bright red, completely numb and I couldn’t move them at all. My imagination ran rampant, did I have one of those forms of meningitis that killed a healthy victim within hours? Or was I about to suffer a stroke, unusual but still possible for a healthy 27-year-old woman?

Chad, who had been watering in some plants, looked over and ran over, seeing that something was very wrong. “Tessa, did you get bitten or stung by an insect or a spider?”

I didn’t think this was the case, if an insect or spider had bitten me I would have felt it. The only thing I knew was that I felt worse – increasingly scared and sick – then vomited without warning onto the ground and burst into tears.

“Daddy, I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m so scared,” I sobbed, tears running down my face.

“Don’t be scared Tessa, we’ll get you to a doctor,” said Daddy, putting his arms around me to comfort me as I cried, stroking my hair.

Chad raced to get his car, and he drove to the emergency department of the local hospital. Daddy sat in the back with me, keeping a bowl close handy in case I vomited again during the car trip, and getting tissues to wipe my teary eyes and help me blow my nose. I couldn’t wipe my own eyes or blow my own nose, my hands were swollen and completely numb. Daddy had to open the car door for me and help me get in, I couldn’t even do that. Fortunately for Daddy, Chad and me I wasn’t sick again during the drive to the hospital.

A doctor saw me pretty quickly, and it was determined that I had had a strong allergic reaction to the Grevillea. Apparently quite a lot of people had allergies to this plant which I had obviously never encountered before, but my reaction was quite severe. I was given a shot of adrenaline to help with the symptoms, but while burning sensations and hot skin went away, my hands which had made direct contact with the plant remained numb and rigid, no feeling at all. The doctor had advised me that I might be like that for the next few hours and maybe until tomorrow.

So back at Daddy’s house with Chad we sat in the kitchen, Daddy having to hold up a glass with a straw to my face so I could drink and feed me some yoghurt by hand, spooning it up and putting it into my mouth. When I sneezed, Daddy had to put the tissue to my nose to catch the spray, then hold it there so I could blow my nose, much like earlier when I had been crying.

“Are you feeling a bit better now Princess?” Daddy asked me as I finished the yoghurt.

Being 27-years-old and having have my Daddy feed and water me and help me blow my nose wasn’t great for my dignity, but I knew worse was coming. For some reason, I had been in denial that nature would call at some time during the next few hours and had ignored the reality that I needed to use the loo, but now I had to address the reality that nature was calling big time.

My bladder felt full to bursting, and in my back passage, I could feel poo against the walls of my rectum and pushing at my anal sphincter. I couldn’t go to the toilet on my own, my hands were still frozen and numb but if I didn’t go then I would end up with knickers soaked with urine at the front and soiled by feces at the back.

“I’m feeling a bit better thanks,” I said. “But Daddy we’ve got a bit of a problem, I need to go to the toilet.”

I could see the look of dismay on the faces of Daddy and Chad.

“Oh,” said Daddy, looking most dismayed while Chad looked scared. “That is a problem.”

“Yes,” I agreed. I definitely knew there was a problem, if I didn’t go to the toilet I would end up peeing mersin escort and pooing my knickers.

“Maybe I could um, call your Mum to come and help you?” Daddy suggested. “Or one of your female friends perhaps?”

“Daddy, Mum lives on the other side of town and all my friends had plans today,” I said. I didn’t think any of my friends would be in agreement to give up their day to come and assist me to go to the loo.

“So I guess it’s up to me to take you to the toilet then Tessa?” Daddy asked.

“Yes, I’m really sorry Daddy.” I wished this wasn’t happening.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Daddy assured me. “You can’t help it. It would be easier if you were a boy, it would just be a matter of undoing a zip.”

I nodded. “Yes, but I’m obviously a girl but it wouldn’t help anyway. It’s not only number ones, I need to do number twos as well.”

Chad, who had been looking increasingly scared, said, “You know, I think this should be an immediate family thing. We left some gardening tools out after what happened, I think I’ll go and get them in.”

Chad made a hasty retreat for the garden, but for Daddy and I, there was no escape. I needed to sit on the toilet and empty my bladder and my bowels, and Daddy had to help me with the entire process. Sure, Daddy had changed my nappies when I was a baby, but I was obviously not a baby now, I was a fully grown adult woman.

“I’ll take you to the ensuite bathroom, there’s more room in there,” Daddy said as we made our way to his and Chad’s bedroom, and then into the ensuite bathroom, where Daddy closed and locked the door.

My heart raced and I already felt nervous as I stood in front of the toilet. With two men using this bathroom, the toilet seat was obviously up and Daddy put it down so he could sit me on it to do my business. Daddy looked even more scared than me, and to reassure my father I said, “At least this wasn’t two weeks ago.”

“Why is that Tessa?”

“Because two weeks ago I had my period, Daddy.”

This was true, it would have been so much worse if it had happened in the week I was menstruating. I was like a female hemophiliac during my time of the month, my vagina releasing copious amounts of blood as my uterus shed its lining, my tampons and pads getting saturated with smelly dark red blood that stank like fish that was going off. And when I went to the loo during my period, the toilet bowl always looked like a crime scene after I had been, blood and larger clots everywhere and all over the copious amounts of toilet paper that I used.

And it wasn’t just my front bottom where I had problems when I was on the rags, the problems with my back bottom were arguably worse. I had huge issues with frequent and messy bowel movements, not to mention wind, and the smell was always atrocious. A few months ago at work, I went to the toilet and had a massive shit when changing my tampon, was on the loo for over 20 minutes and stank out the whole of the ladies’ toilets.

After finally finishing and getting my stinky little arse off the toilet I was in the adjacent lunchroom getting my lunch ready, when my female boss passed by with an important female client, showing her where the ladies room was. She was in there three seconds, before emerging unable to take the smell. My boss went in and took a sniff, apologized and took the lady to the next set of female toilets. They saw me in the lunchroom, but I don’t think either of them thought that I – a petite and pretty girl – could be responsible for the atrocious poo-poo smells in the female bathroom.

Another time, I was also on my period and was wearing a napkin. I was with Justin in the car, him driving and me in the passenger seat. As I changed my position, I accidentally farted hard into my period pad, the noise of the fart escaping my anus and going along the pad’s cover into my vulva and bubbling as it mixed with my period blood and came out of my fanny flaps filling the car.

Justin and I collapsed in fits of laughter, me giggling and apologizing profusely, before we began gagging at the smell that emerged from my bum. Justin pulled over to the side of the road and still laughing we leaped out of the car, opening the doors and waving them back and forth to get rid of the stench of my period fart. Cabbage, spinach and broccoli for dinner the night before and tuna salad for lunch that day may have sounded like healthy choices, but not for menstruating girls’ bowels, it seemed! Some young guys in a four wheel drive pulled over, thinking something was seriously wrong like a car fire pulled in behind us to see if we needed assistance.

Justin, still laughing and being such a great boyfriend, called out, “Thanks guys but it’s okay, she just farted,” before pointing at me. The young men went on their way, thinking that we were probably both insane or on drugs. Given the strong Westerly breeze blowing that day and how smelly my gas had been, in an hour or so people walking along the beach in Geelong probably could smell my fart over the sea breeze from Corio Bay. And a few hours after, people in King William Street or the Rundle Mall in Adelaide were probably gagging on the terrible smell wondering where it had come from, not aware that it was the fart of a girl having her period hundreds of miles away in Melbourne.

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