Oh dear, I believe I need to defecate. I must pick up my pace and dash home promptly. Just in time, I burst into the apartment and barely have the chance to lower my trousers. The feces spill out of my bottom instantly, right in the center of the room, as a strong jet of urine sprays the floor. Ah, the euphoria and relief, I almost soil myself while running. Now I tread in my excrement, smearing it on my sneakers, and beckon my toilet slave to meticulously lick them clean.