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The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the newsboys were out selling papes on the streets. But these weren’t the newsies of the Lower East side of Manhattan, no, these were the boys from Brooklyn, the newsies that every other newsie in New York was somewhat afraid of. Sure, the Brooklyn newsboys supported the strike and were there when it came to an end, but that didn’t mean that they were any less intimidating. It was mostly because all the members of the Brooklyn newsies looked up to their leader, Spot Conlon; not wanting to depend too much on others, not accepting charity or help, and always being independent even when they were orphans or poor. It was one reason why Spot wanted an example that the newsies under Jack Kelly were not going to run away at the first sign of trouble.
Though sometimes Spot’s independence and determination to be a strong leader got him in a bit of trouble, like with what happened today. The day had started out fine, all the boys at the lodging house were getting ready in what can only be described as controlled chaos. Spot was usually the first to be up and dressed, one of the qualities of being a leader that he developed, but today, he had a horrible cramping that came from his stomach. He barely wanted to drag himself out of his bunk, and when he was finally dressed, he sat on the edge holding his stomach as more cramps moved through. All of the other Brooklyn boys around didn’t seem to notice, not that they would say anything if they did, the last time someone mentioned if Spot was okay, he nearly soaked the kid. When Bart walked up and patted Spot on the back, everyone held their breath, “Ey Spot, everyone’ ready to go now.”
Spot nodded and stood up, trying his hardest not to wince at the pain that was clawing at his stomach. The boys soon left their lodging house, picking up their papes, and hit the streets of Brooklyn. Spot went along the streets by himself, managing to sell ten of his fifty within just a few minutes. He had to stop and take a break, leaning against a building, when the cramps in his stomach became too much to bear. He gazed around the streets, looking for any of the tell-tell red shirts of the other newsies in his group, he didn’t want this moment of weakness to be seen. His stomach gurgled and clenched once more, this time Spot visibly winced, just barely able to keep his knees from buckling. His stomach felt bloated and distended, almost like there was a rock inside that wouldn’t budge. Trying to relieve the cramps, Spot passed some gas, only to feel slightly worse afterwards. He went through the days mentally, soon realizing that he hadn't used the bathroom in quite some time. Spot nearly jumped when he felt a hand pat him on the shoulder, “Ey Spot, sellin okay?”
“Yeah, I’se just got a few more to sell.” Spot replied, “How’s about you’se York?”
The newsboy with the eyepatch appeared to study the leader for a bit before answering, “Doin’ good. Are you’se okay Spot? Not like you’se to stand in one place all day.”
“I’se fine.” Spot said, there was a slight firmness in his voice which told the other newsboy that he should drop the subject. He didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t feeling well and that he thought he was constipated. York studied his leader with his good eye once more, noticing that there was definitely something wrong with him, but he knew he shouldn’t mention it, “Okay, see ya at the house.”
With that, York walked down the street and turned the corner out of sight. Once Spot knew that York wasn’t coming back and that there weren’t any other newsboys on the street, he made his way back to the lodging house as quickly as he could, though he made sure to sell papers while he could and managed to sell all of them by the time he made it to the lodging house. Luckily, there weren't any newsies at the lodging house when Spot arrived, not that he needed privacy or anything. In fact, Spot could easily use the bathroom when there were others getting ready, it was just that, he didn’t want anyone to know that he was constipated. Taking the steps two at a time, Spot walked into the sleeping quarters, making his way into the bathrooms. Quickly choosing a stall and closing the curtain behind, Spot undid his pants and suspenders and sat down on the toilet.
The rock-like mass didn’t descend or even move at all, it remained stagnant inside of his stomach, his insides protesting and growling angrily. Spot relaxed, feeling the mass descend only a bit, his asshole opening slightly as it got closer to the exit. He pushed slightly, trying to coax the stubborn mass out of his body, it only moved a few centimeters before stopping once more. Spot bore down with a grunt, “NNNNNGGGHH!”
The turd poked out a few inches before stopping at the widest point, Spot hissed at the pain of his asshole dilating so much.
“Shit.” He mumbled under his breath. Giving another push, this time without a grunt, the log still stubbornly refused to budge. Taking a breath, Spot grunted and bore down as hard as he could, “NNNNNNNNGGGGGHH!”
The turd moved a few more inches before slowing down to a stop. Spot hissed once more in pain, his anus was struggling to accommodate how wide his load actually was, and, to be fair, it caused a bit of fear to spread into the King of Brooklyn. He had sizable movements before, but nothing came close to this, nothing at all. Also, it was so painful, the newsie was almost in tears at the feeling of his stretched out anus. But it was too late to give up now, Spot knew this, so he geared himself up for another push. Taking another breath, Spot bore down again, “UNNNNNNGGGGHHH!”
The log was propelled past its widest point and, eventually, tapered into the bowl after crackling out for some time. Spot immediately released something between the cross of a grunt and a painful yelp as his asshole reverted back to normal size. As he sat there catching his breath once more and steadying himself against the pain, his body signaled to him that it wasn’t done, his stomach involuntarily pushed. Spot grunted softly as another softer, yet just as big, log crackled its way out of him. He moaned as he felt it pass his still sore asshole, “Hmmmmh.”
The turd crackled out for a while before finally tapering out and falling into the bowl below. Spot released some trapped gas afterwards before giving a few small pushes that propelled a few large, hard, balls into the bowl with loud splashes and plops. Finally, he let out a well deserved sigh of relief, his stomach felt like it had reverted to normal and he felt lighter. Rolling off some toilet paper, Spot winced when he wiped over his sore asshole, he paled slightly when he saw the faint streaks of blood on the paper. Standing and doing up his pants, Spot looked at what he had produced, his mouth gaped at the size of it. He would never wish that what he had to go through and had to pass would ever happen to any other newsboy in New York. Surprisingly, the load went down without a problem, Spot pulled back the curtain and washed his hands at the sink.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, exhausted from his ordeal, but immediately stood up when he felt the sting from his bottom. Spot laid down on his side, the soreness from his asshole continuing, trying to keep the tears at bay. This has never happened before, he had never been in this much pain before after a trip to the toilet. Eventually, he fell asleep as the pain died down, not waking up for a while.
When he did wake up, he found that a thin blanket was thrown over his form. Footsteps sounded up the steps as York, Bart, and Hotshot entered the sleeping quarters, they smiled when they saw that Spot was awake. The leader sat up on the edge of the bed, shocked into a wince by the sudden pain in his rear. Hotshot placed a hand on Spot’s shoulder, “Ya okay Spot?”
“Ya I’m fine.” Spot said while trying to pull a convincing smile. It didn’t work, Bart shook his head, “No, you’se are not fine. We found ya in bed, lookin’ to be in pain and uncomfortable.”
Spot hung his head before looking at the three other boys, “Okay I’se tell you, but this doesn’t reach the otha boys, kay?”
The three of them nodded, Spot sighed, “I’se was constipated, hurt comin’ out.”
“Spot,” York began, “Ya need to tell us, we could have helped ya.”
“Yeah,” Hotshot agreed, “We would have had you’se back.”
“Your secret’s safe with us.” Bart said, “But next time, please share ya troubles with us, that’s what brothers are for.”
Spot nodded as his three friends patted his back, they walked out of the sleeping quarters and back down the stairs. After that incident, Spot became a little more open about his weaknesses, he still was an intimidating figure, but periodically would mention a fear or when he felt ill. Everyone in the lodging house supported him and each other, of course, that is what brothers are for after all.