This particular story starts with two accounts of explosive diarrhea.

The first occurred when Stiggy had Kenzie tied up to the bed. He was sucking her toes. Kenzie was getting worked up, or at least acting like it. They'd had Mexican food not two hours earlier.

Stiggy's tongue slid between Kenzie's toes and his fingers massaged her soles. Her arms and legs were spread-eagled, secured by two Velcro straps that ran under the mattress. She was, of course, buck naked.

Stiggy was enjoying himself, but then he heard Kenzie groan. There was a tremendous ripping noise, and then something that felt like warm stew was all over Stiggy's face, shoulders, the bed, the wall, and the dresser. The smell would linger for weeks.

Kenzie didn't even apologize, just raised her head and went, "Oooh, that sucks," as Stiggy ran for the bathroom, blind and choking. He ran the bathwater scalding hot and held his face under the roaring faucet. He screamed and puked and screamed some more.

They'd met on Seeking Arrangement. Kenzie was the first and only woman Stiggy ever hooked up with from the site. She was twenty-four and cute enough (at least in her profile pics), with olive skin and a bit of a fridge body. Her personality was coolly professional.

After Stiggy's opener ("Sup babe, u got nice feet"), they'd exchanged messages about price and location. Then, that Saturday, Stiggy drove all the way down to Inkster where he picked Kenzie up from a BP station. They drove all the way back to Stiggy's place in Novi, stopping for takeout enchiladas and burritos on the way.

They ate at Stiggy's living room coffee table. Kenzie talked about her dom the whole time. She claimed he was involved with several of the local strip clubs. He sounded like one badass motherfucker-- rich, dominant, smart, witty, wise, the whole package. Kenzie wouldn't shut up about him.

The dom had gifted her a collar-- made of leather, with a silver heart at the clasp-- that Kenzie wore around her neck. The word "Toy" was engraved into the heart. Kenzie proudly showed it off.

"It says, 'Toy'," she said, as if Stiggy couldn't read. "It means I belong to him now. I'm one of his favorite toys."

"Nice," said Stiggy, wishing she wouldn't talk about other men on his time.

Ten minutes later when they'd gone to the bedroom, Stiggy took the collar off and set it on the nightstand.

"Tonight you belong to me," he told Kenzie.

"Whatever," she responded.

The sex was not good. Kenzie revealed she'd started her period that very hour, waiting to say anything until right before Stiggy was about to dive in. Stiggy sighed and got a towel.

Then, the anal volcano.

After a long, hot, soapy shower, Stiggy paid Kenzie $450 (she offered to take off fifty bucks for the inconvenience) and drove her home. They didn't speak the whole way.

Upon returning to his apartment, Stiggy saw the leather collar lying on the nightstand where he'd put it earlier. For it all its supposed symbolic importance, Kenzie had forgotten it.

Stiggy put the collar in his dresser drawer, assuming Kenzie would come get it whenever she noticed it was gone. He smoked a bowl or two, swam in oblivion for awhile and forgot about the whole thing.

A couple weeks went by and nothing happened. Stiggy figured he'd never see Kenzie again, and that was fine.

Now, this early morning phone call.

An angry text was waiting on Stiggy's Burner app when he woke up a few hours later. The text reiterated all the things that had been said on the phone, demanding Stiggy mail the collar to an address. Now there was an additional demand, as well-- Stiggy must put one hundred dollars in a PayPal account for "being a dickwad".

Stiggy wasn't worried. He thought of Kenzie's hastily-digested burrito all over his face, clogging his nostrils and stinging his eyes.

He calmly texted back.

Sure. What's the address?

They gave it to him, and this brings us to our second account of explosive diarrhea.

The house was in Wyandotte in an old blue collar neighborhood, painted a robin's egg blue with white trim. There were plastic flowers and decorative yard shit set up in the dead garden. The curtains were drawn, which was good.

Stiggy strolled right up to the front door, dropped trou and blew his fucking asshole out all over the porch.

He'd devoured a big bag of Taco Bell on the way there, had gorged himself on Chipotle for breakfast. By the time he got to Wyandotte, his innards were rumbling with the makings of a truly epic brownie explosion. Just prior to release, his buttcheeks were sputtering like a virgin after prom.

Stiggy didn't care who saw him commit this deed. He had a ski mask on and he'd parked up the block at a (ironically) Mexican restaurant, casually strolling down the sidewalk to the address.

His bowels evacuated and his revenge complete, Stiggy hitched his pants back up just as the door opened. A screeching old woman came out, swatting at him with a plastic broom.

Stiggy yelped as the plastic broom smacked his bare ass with a hearty THWAP! He hobbled away, ass cheeks all spicy, pants held up in one hand. Fortunately, no one followed. The neighborhood stayed quiet and deserted. Police sirens could be heard in the distance.

Shit water streaming down his legs and into his socks, Stiggy ran for his car. It was as if he'd sat in a plate of casserole. He rolled all four windows down, cranked the air conditioning and stuck his head out the window. It would be a long ride home.

He double checked the address-- it was correct, thank God. Stiggy would've felt pretty guilty if he'd sprayed diarrhea all over some poor random grandma's front porch. Who was the old woman then? Kenzie's mom? Didn't matter.

Stiggy could almost hear the cops as they took a statement from the broom-wielding woman.

"Sorry, ma'am, but if you didn't get a good look at him then that's all we can do for now. If you see him again, call us."

Then they'd laugh their asses off all the way back to the station.

After another long, soapy shower, Stiggy was just about to fall asleep when there came another text from the Burner number.

It was now a grand dispensed into the PayPal account. Plus Stiggy had to personally deliver the collar to the strip club owned by Kenzie's dom.

That was where the trouble started, because the club in question was The King's Club.

Rupert King owned The King's Club. Stiggy knew Rupert King. Rupert King fucking hated Stiggy.

And you didn't fuck with Rupert King.