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Tessa's Toilet Troubles

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, 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 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 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.
"You're right there Tessa," said Daddy, clearly relieved that it wasn't my time of the month on top of everything else.

Daddy seemed very nervous as he reached for the clasps of my overalls, his sweaty fingers undoing the right clasp first and then the left one, before pulling them down to my ankles. I stood there in front of the toilet, my white cotton bikini style panties with pink flowers and matching waist and leg elastic on display.

Needless to say, it felt weird my Daddy unfastening and pulling my overalls down, but nothing compared to Daddy gently taking the waistband of my knickers and pulling them down too, sliding my undies down my legs until they joined my overalls down around my ankles.

I knew that my Daddy could see my female mound with the neat triangle of light brown pubic hair. I did trim my pubic hair away from my bikini lines and did some landscaping between my legs, but for the most part kept my pubes intact, sporting a classic 'Map of Tasmania'. Justin always loved my pubic hair, when we were fooling around he often liked to slip his hand down the front of my panties and have a fumble around in my knickers, his fingers usually stroking, teasing and lingering upon my pubic hair.

But it was quite one thing for my boyfriend to see my pubic hair, quite another for my father to see it. Poor Daddy, having to help out his daughter in this embarrassing situation and far worse was to come.

Daddy gently sat me down on the toilet, me adjusting my bare bottom as I sat on the seat so I was comfortable. Daddy looked at the roll of toilet paper, knowing that the next thing he had to do was far worse than pulling his own daughter's knickers down and sitting her on the toilet to do number twos.

Breathing heavily, I began to urinate. I couldn't believe I was pissing on the toilet in front of my father, but the reality was that I was urinating, my yellow pee stream flowing out of my urethra and going into the toilet bowl, tinkling and splashing as it hit the porcelain bowl and went into the toilet water.

It was highly embarrassing for me, but it did bring relief to my full bladder as it emptied. My pee stream slowed down to large splashes, then droplets before abating altogether, leaving the water in the toilet bright yellow and bubbly, and me with a very wet pussy.

Telling Daddy that he needed to wipe my vagina was going to be very awkward and thinking that actions spoke louder than words, opened my legs to display my fanny to my father. Daddy looked really nervous as he took a quick glance at my slim, oval-shaped pink pussy knowing what he had to do. Daddy reached for the toilet roll, unwound four squares, scrunched them up, and put his hand into my crotch and wiped the residual urine from my pussy.

The toilet paper was nice and soft and really absorbent, triple-ply with a flowery pattern embossed on the tissue. It soon absorbed my pee-pee, and Daddy dropped the soaking toilet tissue into the bowl.

"Thank you, Daddy," I said.

"That's okay Tessa." Daddy clearly wished this was the end of it and so did I, but the poo pressing against my anal sphincter clearly had other ideas.

Gritting my teeth, knowing what I had to do, I tried to relax the muscles in my rectum. I certainly succeeded in that aim. I farted loudly, my wind echoing in the toilet bowl and the smell immediately made itself known.

I blushed and squirmed on the toilet, looking down at my knickers. "Sorry Daddy, please excuse me."

Daddy put aside his own embarrassment to reassure me, and he stroked my hair. "Hey, don't worry about it Princess, you're on the toilet, it's natural."

"Thanks Daddy," I said, pleased my father was so understanding. I only hoped that he would be so understanding when I actually moved my bowels.

I was hoping desperately that my poo was going to be firm logs that slipped easily from my bottom and would only require a minimal amount of toilet tissue to wipe my bum. But this hope was in vain. I farted, and my shit came oozing out of my arse with a massive rush, my toilet smell rising up from the bowl as the feces splashed into the toilet water. I could feel the sticky residual shit around my anus.

Daddy looked at me as I stopped pooing. "Do you um need me to ... um, ah ..."

I finished the sentence to try and lighten things up. "Wipe my bottom?"

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to say it, you know."

"I understand Daddy. And yes, could you please wipe my bottom?"

Daddy unwound some toilet paper and I moved forward on the toilet, leaning forward so Daddy would have easy access to my bottom. I knew that Daddy could see my anus, and that he could see the smelly brown poo around my rear opening.

"Daddy, please remember that girls always need to be wiped front to back," I reminded my father.

"Definitely know that Tess." I looked down at my knickers as my father put his hand towards my backside, and I waited for the touch of the tissue. The nice soft toilet paper tickled my fanny as Daddy wiped my dirty bottom front to back, the soft white toilet paper absorbing my poo-poos, me seeing my feces all over the loo paper as Daddy dropped the soiled toilet tissue into the bowl.

Daddy got more toilet paper and wiped my bottom again, but this time the most extraordinary thing happened. Rather than being absolutely humiliated at being 27-years-old, sitting on the toilet with my knickers down taking a smelly shit and my Daddy having to wipe my arse for me because my hands were incapacitated, this time Daddy's touch to my rear end as he cleaned me caused a tingling sensation in my clitoris, and I felt a dampness in my pussy.

This was turning me on? Fuck, no way, never, not in a million years. There had to be another explanation for it. It was probably just a physical thing, the unfamiliar feeling of somebody else - a man - wiping my bottom for me, when I obviously always wiped my own backside when I sat on the toilet. But this wasn't any man, it was my father, my gay father with whom I had always been so close. It made no sense.

"I take it you're not finished yet Princess?" Daddy asked me.

I shook my head. "Sorry Daddy." I then felt my anus open again, and more smelly and messy poo came out of my bottom and went into the toilet, joining the first lot of feces I had defecated and adding to the ripe smells from my rectum.

"Sorry about the smell, Daddy, it's so embarrassing," I apologized.

"It's not your fault Tessa, you can't help it, you're going to the loo, it's natural," Daddy reassured me.

Once again, I leaned forward on the toilet seat so Daddy would have plenty of room to wipe me, and soon felt Daddy's firm hand on my backside as he cleaned my bottom with nice soft toilet tissue. Again, I felt that feeling of being turned on at my father's touch to my vagina and my bottom, albeit with toilet paper between his fingers and my private parts.

This time, my fantasies went even further than being touched. That Daddy could see and smell my poo as he wiped my anus for some reason excited me, as did the fact that he had seen my anus, vagina, pubic hair and my bare bottom. I looked down at my knickers, and saw the creamy colored feminine stains on my double cotton panty saddle from my vagina self-cleansing all day as Daddy wiped my bottom again.

Had Daddy seen the female stains I had made on my panties? If so what did he think of them? Did he like them? Of course he didn't, he was a gay male and I was his daughter, it was sick to think things like this, but still I kept doing it.

Soon, I had something else to think about. Sometimes, I would get a build-up of gas in my lower intestines, and would have to massage my tummy while I was on the toilet to relax my bowels and get rid of all my farts. I could not do this today as my hands were out of action, but Daddy could.

"Um Daddy, I kind of need your help with something else," I said coyly, feeling very shy and self-conscious about asking.

"What's that Tessa, I hope you haven't started your period two weeks early?" Daddy laughed.

I also laughed. "No, nothing like that, don't worry. I kind of have a bit of a wind problem down there, if you know what I mean. Normally when I'm on the toilet I massage my own tummy to help me get rid of it, but I can't do that today, and I was hoping ..."

"Would you like me to massage your tummy Tess?"

"Yes please Daddy, it would help me relax and get rid of all that nasty, smelly wind."

Daddy stood beside me, put one of my firm masculine hands on my stomach and began to massage it, holding one of my hands with the other to reassure me. I couldn't feel Daddy's touch to my hand as it was too numb, but it did help relax me.

I farted and farted and farted on the toilet, my smelly wind echoing in the bowl each time my anus opened to pass gas. I even did a fanny fart, queefing from my front bottom but the sound was lost among the many more farts that came out of my back bottom.

Soon I could feel that my farting had done its trick and the build-up of wind was gone, and as I released one huge fart this preceded a massive avalanche of shit that came out of my rear end and went everywhere in the toilet, staining the white porcelain, the odor of my crap appalling.

"You all done now Princess?" Daddy asked in hope.

"Just a minute Daddy." I farted, and another log of shit came out of my rectum and splashed into the toilet. Now my bowels felt empty, no farts and no more poop. "I am now."

Again, Daddy had to get toilet paper to wipe my bottom, and it took seven lengths to clean up all of my residual shit. I saw one soiled length of toilet tissue after another emerge from my dirty bottom covered in my poo-poos before Daddy disposed of them into the loo, then finally the sixth piece had only small skid marks and the final piece no poo at all. Finally, I was done.

Daddy helped me stand up off the loo, and I looked into the toilet at the poo and my shitty, soiled toilet paper, seeing a gas bubble from one of my turds emerge and go upwards through the toilet water, a gas bubble that would have been a fart had it remained in my body. For a girl so small in stature, I sure had shit a lot.

Daddy put down the lid of the toilet and flushed it, consigning my pee, my poo-poos and the toilet paper my father had used to wipe my bottom and clean me up down into the Melbourne sewer system. I continued to stand in front of the toilet with my overalls and my knickers down around my ankles, my triangle of pubic hair on full display to my father.

"Sorry Princess, I don't want you to feel embarrassed, but this is necessary," said Daddy, taking a can of toilet freshener and spraying a liberal amount around to get rid of my toilet smell.

"That's okay Daddy, I would be doing the exact same thing," I said. It was obvious, I had absolutely stank the toilet out. Fuck I could be such a dirty and smelly little bitch when I went to the toilet.

Daddy washed his hands then approached me, clearly nervous about pulling his daughter's knickers up but I stopped him.

While Daddy had done a superb job in wiping my arse in a situation that was clearly hard for him, I still felt all yuck around my bum after such a messy and smelly poo. Had I wiped my own bottom I would no doubt have felt more confident that I was clean around my rear opening, but as I hadn't it felt wrong, and even if I wasn't dirty back there I was probably still pretty smelly.

"Are you okay Tessa?" Daddy asked.

I nodded. "Yes, but this is really embarrassing. I know you did a great job um, well - wiping my bottom - there's no other way of saying it, but I still feel all smelly and kind of yuck back there."

"Would you like me to wash your bottom for you Tessa?" Daddy seemed to be psychic.

"Yes please Daddy, that's if it's not too weird for you."

"No Tess, its all part of the service."

With my panties still down, I watched as my father took a clean washcloth - a blue one with seascape print - and wet it down at the sink. "So I'll get you to come over near the sink Tessa and bend over."

I shuffled awkwardly - it being obviously difficult to walk with my overalls and knickers around my ankles - to where my father stood. I bent over, presenting my bare bottom to my Daddy and I knew he could see my pussy and anal opening as my butt cheeks spread apart.

Again, I could feel myself getting turned on at my Daddy being able to see my peach-shaped buttocks, my anus and my genitals, and again mentally reprimanded myself for getting aroused by weird and twisted things. But this was difficult at Daddy's touch to my private parts, my father washing my pussy first, really getting the cloth into my fanny flaps and giving my genitals a thorough wash between my legs.

Daddy washed my pussy smells off the cloth, then turned his attention from my front bottom to my back bottom. As Daddy washed first my buttocks then around my anus it felt so good, before Daddy stopped.

"You were right Tessa."

"Sorry Daddy?"

"I thought I'd wiped you properly when you were on the toilet, but obviously I didn't. Look at this."

I looked at the washcloth, and could see it had my poo-poos on the blue fabric. There wasn't much, but if I had pulled my knickers up I would have wound up with feces in my underwear, and subsequently embarrassing and smelly brown skid marks at the back of my pants.

"Sorry Princess," said Daddy, as he washed my poo off the cloth.

"It's okay Daddy, it's not like you have to help your daughter use the loo every day."

Daddy finished washing my bottom to make sure that there were no more smelly surprises back there, then dried my pussy, anal area and buttocks with a nice soft towel.

"This will make you feel really good, Tessa," Daddy promised me, as he took some talcum and applied it to my bare bottom, powdering my arse and making me feel clean, dry and confident.

I felt so turned on as Daddy pulled my knickers up, and adjusted them in place around my bottom and my box. He then pulled up my overalls, and fastened them in place. Given that Daddy had just washed my bottom, he washed his hands again and also washed my numb hands for me too.

"I can't thank you enough Daddy, that must have been so awkward for you having to help me while I was on the loo," I said as we left the bathroom. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to apologize Tessa, and it must have been worse for you, given you were the one who went to the toilet."

"Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing," I said. It was a half-truth. I was indeed embarrassed at first which was obvious as I had to sit on the toilet with my knickers around my ankles and do my poo-poos in front of my father as he wiped my bottom for me, but then strangely I had been getting turned on by it.

"And you can thank me by never telling anybody about this ever," said Daddy.

I was way ahead of my father. "Don't worry Daddy, I won't tell anyone, not ever."

Going into the kitchen, Chad sheepishly came back into the house. "Is it safe to come back in now?"

Daddy laughed. "You're fine now Chad. Tessa and I have agreed never to talk about this ever again."

"I'm definitely good with that, I can't imagine how embarrassing it must have been for both of you," said Chad.

"The only thing we're both glad about was that it wasn't my time of the month," I declared.

"Oh ew, that's so nasty!" exclaimed Chad.

Again, Daddy laughed. "Chad, we really need to get you over this menstruation phobia of yours."

I was a bit surprised about this. Lots of guys were afraid of the mention of periods, my boyfriend one of them, but given Chad was such a camp gay, I didn't think he would be one of them.

"You aren't scared of periods are you Chad?" I giggled.

"Chad is absolutely positively terrified of periods, Tessa!" he exclaimed. "Chad is afraid of menstrual periods, he is afraid of periods that measure geological and historical time, he is scared of period dramas, he is even afraid of periods in American punctuation."

Chad as usual had me in hysterics. "Why, when we girls are the ones who have to have periods for over 40 years of our lives?" I giggled.

"I think one of the reasons that Chad became gay is so Chad would not have to face periods ever in his life. Full stop, definitely not period."

I again laughed, and Daddy smiled.

"Chad, we really have to work on your period phobia," said Daddy. "One day, you're going to have to be really brave at the supermarket and be a big boy, walk down aisle six in a calm, confident manner and pick out your own toothpaste and mouthwash."

"Can't Chad be brave in another way, like handling a taipan, going into the lions or tigers' cages at the zoo, waving a red flag in front of a water buffalo or swimming with a crocodile?" Chad suggested.

*

The afternoon passed into the evening, and Daddy had to help me out with other things as my hands remained numb and swollen. He had to feed me my dinner and help me to drink, he had to help me when I had a wedgie and my knickers rode up into my bum cheeks and he had to hold my phone for me as I contacted Justin and let him know what had happened with the allergic reaction to the plant.

My feet were getting sweaty and itchy in my shoes and socks, and I wanted them off. "Daddy, could you please take off my shoes and socks?" I asked.

"Of course Tessa," Daddy said.

The simple act of my father untying and removing my sneakers then taking off my white cotton socks, leaving me barefoot turned me on no end as did everything else Daddy had to do to help me that evening, even having to feed me as I could not handle cutlery to eat myself. I couldn't believe it. What was wrong with me?

Finally came bed time, and I needed to have my teeth brushed, go to the toilet, have a shower and get into my nightwear for bed. It should have been most embarrassing for me except for the tooth brushing part, but I couldn't wait for Daddy to have to assist me on the toilet again, and I especially looked forward to Daddy having to help me shower as then he could see me naked. Again, I could not believe I was thinking this way. Why did I want my gay father to see me naked?

It was de ja vu as Daddy and I were back in the ensuite bathroom. Daddy brushed my teeth for me and helped me rinse my mouth, then he pulled my overalls and knickers down and sat me back down on the toilet again, barefoot with my overalls and panties around my ankles.

This time, I wasn't on the toilet as long and I didn't fart as much as before, only once mid-stream while I was peeing and twice as I was moving my bowels. My poo while still very smelly wasn't as messy as before so Daddy had to use far less loo paper to clean me up, but each time I felt his strong male hands on the more private parts of my body - albeit with toilet paper in between us - I squirmed on the toilet seat, my pussy getting wet.

I stood up off the toilet and Daddy flushed it, before he sprayed toilet freshener around, washed his own hands and helped me wash mine. There wasn't much point in pulling up my pants as I was about to have a shower, so I waited with my overalls and knickers down as Daddy went and changed into bathers, and collected my sleep shirt and some fresh white cotton knickers for me to wear to bed tonight.

My pussy was already sticky in anticipation as Daddy re-entered the bathroom. I trembled at his touch as he took off my overalls and my knickers, leaving me naked from the waist down. My clitoris sent me wild as Daddy took off my tee-shirt, and I was now wearing only a white bra.

This wasn't for long, Daddy took hold of the clasp of my brassiere and removed it, the undergarment coming away to show my perky B-cup breasts. I was now completely naked, and that Daddy could see every inch of my nubile and petite young body in a state of total nudity made my fanny feel like it was on fire.

Daddy helped me into the shower and turned it on, and I was carried to new levels of desire as my father washed me with cloth, obviously not the one Daddy had used to wash my smelly bottom after I went to the loo during the afternoon. I could see that Daddy was a bit nervous about washing my tits, my bare bottom and my pussy, but he did it nonetheless. It really turned me on as Daddy washed my pubic hair, my bush filled with suds and bubbles before Daddy rinsed me.
I was sorry when my shower with Daddy ended, but my father drying me with a towel especially between my legs sent erotic tingles through my entire body. When Daddy held out my clean knickers for me to wear to bed tonight, I trembled as I put my dainty little bare feet into them and Daddy pulled them up, adjusting my panties around my vagina and bottom. Daddy then helped me put on my sleepshirt and brushed my hair for me. I wished Daddy was brushing the hair that grew on my female mound rather than the hair on my head, but having my hair brushed by Daddy was a turn on regardless.

I walked beside Daddy as he escorted me to the guest room. Daddy held back the bed covers and I slipped my bare feet under them, Daddy tucking me in then giving me a goodnight kiss on the cheek.

"Goodnight sweetie, sleep well," Daddy said as he stroked my hair. "It's been an - um - interesting day, hasn't it Princess?"

"It sure has Daddy," I agreed.

"Now hopefully your hands should be better tomorrow but if you need anything in the night, just come and see me and I'll help you."

"I will Daddy, thanks again for everything. Goodnight."

Daddy kissed me goodnight again, turned out the light and went to bed with Chad. After all the misadventures today I was tired and fell asleep pretty quickly, but while I slept soundly all night my dreams were full of erotic feelings. I didn't remember what I was dreaming about, but it sure made me horny as I woke up in the morning with a sticky fanny and subsequent damp panties.

My fanny was not the only part of my body where I had feeling, it was also back in my hands - well partially. I didn't trust myself to drive, and I would have to call in sick to work as there was no way I could use a computer all day, but I would be able to feed, dress, wash and toilet myself.

Daddy and Chad were already awake when I got out of bed, walking towards the toilet on my bare feet. I really needed to go for a poo.

"Oh, here's Little Miss Sleepyhead," gushed Chad.

"Morning Princess," said Daddy. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much better thanks Daddy," I said. "I haven't got full feeling back in my hands yet so can't drive or go to work, but soon I will be back to normal."

"The doctor did say it could take 24 hours," Daddy said.

I nodded. "Right. Sorry, but could you please excuse me? I really need to go to the toilet."

"It must be a relief that you can do that again on your own right Tessa?" said Daddy, looking relieved himself that he didn't need to take me to the toilet again.

"Totally," I agreed, as I hurried for the toilet as fast as my bare feet would carry me, closing and locking the door behind me.

It should have been a relief, being able to go to the toilet on my own and get toilet paper and wipe my bottom by myself. But as I lifted up my sleep shirt, pulled my white knickers down to my ankles and sat down barefoot on the toilet, first urinating then emptying my bowels, I kept having those weird fantasies that Daddy was in here helping me like yesterday. Every time I got toilet paper and used it to wipe the poo away from my bottom, I imagined that Daddy was doing it. When I finished, stood up and flushed the toilet, I imagined that Daddy was the one pulling up my knickers not me.

Spraying toilet freshener around to get rid of the smell of my feces, I went into the bathroom to wash my hands, getting more and more feeling back. With Daddy and Chad at work and me having rang in sick, I spent the day at Daddy's house at a loose end mainly watching TV, finally getting full feeling back in my fingers mid-afternoon.

And my fingers were quickly put to good use, going under my skirt, into my knickers and into my crotch, me vigorously finger fucking my fanny. I told myself that the reason I was masturbating was because my boyfriend was away for work, and I wouldn't see him again until tomorrow afternoon and I wanted sex.

But while I was a horny little young lady who was always up for a bit of sex with her partner, the mental images in my mind as I fingered my damp, musty little twat were memories of yesterday, Daddy helping me on the toilet, showering and getting dressed and undressed, but also him doing non erotic things like brushing my hair and feeding me. As I came, sticky pussy juice going everywhere and a distinct feminine smell in the room, I wondered if the allergic reaction to the Grevillea had sent me completely mad.

Things sort of went back to normal the next day, when Justin returned from Brisbane and I was back at work. I returned late in the day with Justin there and our housemates out, and quickly things were getting hot, the pair of us lying on our bed making out, knowing more sexy things were to come.

"So, no more Grevilleas for you then Tessa," said Justin, as he fondled my boobs through my work blouse, my toes clenching in my pantyhose at the touch of my boyfriend.

"No, that's for sure," I said.

"Just one thing I was curious about Tess," said Justin. "You said your hands were numb, so how did you um, ah, you know?"

I finished my "How did I wipe my bottom when I went to the toilet and had a poo?"

"Yeah," Justin laughed.

"With great difficulty," I said, not wanting to discuss the events that day. "But you know the good news? My hands are back to normal now."

I unzipped Justin's jeans, and freed my boyfriend's cock from his trousers, jerking him off and teasing his balls. Justin for his part slipped his hand into my pantyhose and the panties I was wearing, fumbling around in my knickers, fingering my fanny and my arsehole and teasing my pubes.

The sex soon progressed to oral, me on my knees sucking my boyfriend's dick, teasing his shaft and the head of his penis with my tongue. And of course, this soon led to proper sex. Justin was completely naked as he removed the last piece of clothing - my knickers - from my petite body.

I lay back on the bed and spread my legs wide, shamelessly showing off my snatch and making myself available to my boyfriend. Justin wasted no time, he quickly mounted me in the missionary position, pushing his big condom-covered cock up my twat, fucking me hard. We both fucked like a couple of rabbits that had been denied coitus for a year, before both of us reached orgasm at the same time.

My pussy juice soaked Justin's groin, and he ejaculated into the condom, the contraceptive preventing his semen from spraying up my birth canal and into my uterus, and possibly fertilizing one of my ova. I eagerly ripped my boyfriend's condom off, drinking the semen, then licked the residual cum from his penis.

A nice steamy shower after sex was something that Justin and I always enjoyed and today was no exception. However, as Justin washed the sticky juices from my pubes and my pussy, my mind's eye transported me back to Sunday night where my Daddy had to help me shower and had washed my pussy for me. And this turned me on more than my boyfriend's intimate touch to the private areas between my legs. What was wrong with me?

I asked myself this question many times over the next two weeks. Being a horny, over-sexed little bitch I thought that more intercourse was the answer to these dirty and disturbing Daddy fantasies I kept having. This kind of worked - the only thing better than sex with my boyfriend was more sex - and Justin of course was only too happy to get into my knickers and assist me with this. Yet much as I enjoyed Justin fucking me silly or eating out my pussy with his wonderful tongue - I even let him do some really kinky things that we only did rarely such as pulling my knickers down to my ankles and letting him sniff my feminine smells on the cotton, stick one of his fingers up my bum during sex and cover my tits in jam and lick it off - my father fantasies persisted.

When I went to the toilet, I fantasized that Daddy was the one lifting up my skirt and pulling my knickers down. When I got toilet paper and wiped my dirty bottom, I imagined Daddy was in the toilet with me, wiping my bum. My pussy tingled as I thought about how Daddy had washed, dried and powered my smelly little bottom that weekend, and wished it would happen again. When I had issues with wind when using the bathroom, I imagined as I massaged my tummy that Daddy was beside me massaging my abdomen, and holding my hand as I sat farting on the toilet.

Practically every time I changed my clothes or showered, I thought about how great it would be if my Daddy was there helping me do it. When I changed my knickers, I imagined Daddy pulling my dirty knickers down, then holding out clean panties for me to step into before pulling them up. Whenever I showered, I thought about how Daddy had washed my bare breasts, bare bottom and pussy in the shower.

Even non-personal things Daddy had done for me turned me on. Fantasies and memories of my father feeding me, helping me to blow my nose, taking off my shoes and socks and brushing my hair made my get my knickers wet too. Yet never once did I have any fantasies about performing actual sex acts with Daddy, for example me giving him manual relief or fellatio, or the two of us having sex. Those thoughts never turned me on at all, and of course Daddy would never do anything like that. One, he was gay, and two I was his daughter.

Memories of Daddy helping me with other toilet related problems in the past which didn't turn me on at the time now served to do just this. For example, when I was 18 and still in high school I spent the weekend at Daddy's place, but a problem with a burst water pipe in the next street caused the water to be shut down, and just when I needed to visit the toilet for a poop. It was Daddy to the rescue, getting me a bucket to use to do my poo-poos.

More recently, Daddy and I had been walking along the coast admiring the beauty of Port Phillip Bay when I got taken short with a bathroom emergency. Dashing into the ladies room, I found not a single piece of toilet paper in any of the six stalls, and had emerged saying, 'Daddy, there's no toilet paper.' Daddy had rescued me, running into the male toilets and getting me some long lengths of loo paper to use. Now this was turning me on? Weird.

Two weeks had now gone by since my encounter with the grevillea, and I got my period on the Monday, pretty much on schedule for my 28 day cycle. Now, I was having fantasies about my Daddy helping with me with my feminine hygiene requirements. Every time I inserted or removed my tampons in my imagination my fingers were my father's fingers making contact with my vagina. When I changed my pads, I imagined Daddy pulling down my knickers, taking the bloody, smelly used napkin off my panty saddle and pressing a new one into my knickers, adhering the pad and wings in place, then pulling up my knickers and adjusting the pad so it was comfortable between my legs.

I normally didn't feel sexy when it was my time of the month. This was pretty understandable, my PMS, bloating, nasty period cramps, heavy menstrual flow, my smelly fanny and the problems with my bowels - diarrhea and excessive flatulence - were hardly turn-ons. However, I was becoming so obsessed with my fantasies of my Daddy helping me with my period that before work on Tuesday I gave Justin a blow job to try and relieve myself of my pent up sexual frustration, probably not assisted by my hormonal fluctuations.

My period cramps got really bad during the Tuesday afternoon, and my boss let me go home early. I was really grateful, she knew I had girls' problems and was always very understanding with me and other girls in the office when we were menstruating and having issues with our periods.

At home, I took off my shoes and lay barefoot on the couch, a hot water bottle on my tummy this along with the painkillers I had taken hoping to ease my period cramps. In my knickers, I could feel my menses coming out of my vagina and into my sanitary napkin.

I had my lap-top with me, looking up psychology sites trying to psychoanalyze myself and work out why I was thinking this way about my father. My first theory was very Freudian, my father was gay and my parents had divorced when I was younger, which of course upset me. Now as an adult, perhaps my father helping me when I was in personal situations and either fully naked or partially dressed was part of a subconscious wish for my father to be straight again and back with my mother. I was an attractive and sexually desirable young woman; by Daddy seeing my breasts, bottom, pubic hair and vagina as well as my bras and my panties, maybe I was silently hoping Daddy would be aroused by my nudity and it would turn him straight. I doubted it, I was very accepting of Daddy being gay and loved his partner Chad, and the reason these events happened were purely by chance caused by my allergic reaction to a plant, not deliberate actions by me.

My next theory was more grounded. I was always a Daddy's girl. While Daddy would of course never admit it, I was his favorite over my younger brother. I had always adored my father, putting him up on a pedestal, and I was the apple of his eye, me growing up pampered and spoiled as a result. But while I was without doubt spoiled, I was never a spoiled brat, I never threw tantrums or was mean, and was more sweet-natured and would rather do somebody a good turn than a bad one. Had the close bond between Daddy and I turned into more sexual feelings on my part? It kind of made sense, but why now when I was a fully grown 27-year-old woman? And for fuck's sake, my father was gay.

Perhaps it was the damsel in distress thing that turned me on? When I first had the allergic reaction to the plant, Daddy had comforted me when I was crying and vomiting. Then Daddy had had to help me on the toilet, changing my clothes and with showering, maybe my initial embarrassment and discomfort at this had somehow turned into sexual feelings? Maybe being totally dependent on my Daddy that day had aroused something deep in my subconscious. It was possible, but there were flaws with this theory.

One thing was for sure, I couldn't lie here thinking about it all afternoon. In my rectum, I could feel my period-related diarrhea returning and my pad was feeling damp, clearly needing to be changed. I collected a new pad and made my way to the toilet.

Closing and locking the door, I lifted my skirt, pulled my knickers down to my ankles and sat down barefoot on the toilet, my panty pad looking like a crime scene, massive smelly blood stains all over the cover. I urinated, my yellow pee turning the color of tropical juice as it mixed with my menses in the bowl.

Wiping the piss and blood from my pussy, I farted loudly and my smelly diarrhea went everywhere in the toilet, me getting more toilet paper to wipe my bottom. The inside of the toilet bowl soon looked like something from a horror movie, as my super heavy menstrual flow poured out of my vagina, blood in abundance everywhere in the toilet with some larger clots and of course my shit and dirty toilet paper.

Despite my resolution not to have any weird Daddy fantasies, I couldn't help it and during the ten minutes I was sitting on the loo every time I wiped my bottom I imagined my Daddy was wiping me instead. And when I finished and flushed the toilet and then changed my pad, I imagined Daddy was doing it for me.

I placed my used napkin in a sanitary bag, washed my hands and placed the dirty and smelly pad in the outside bin. Returning inside, my new pad wasn't sitting quite straight in my crotch, so I reached under my skirt and adjusted my knickers so my feminine protection was comfortable between my legs.

Returning to the couch and putting the hot water bottle back on my tummy, I again pondered my weird fantasies and told myself to stop having them. It of course did not work, and I lay imagining every moment of my Daddy helping me use the toilet, shower and change my underwear. And my very fertile imagination dreamed of future scenarios where I was a helpless damsel in distress and my Daddy would have to be my hero and help me with personal and private things.

THE END - PLEASE RATE & COMMENT
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