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Activity Wall Forums Forum What Panty Poop Stories/Experieces Would You Like To Hear?

  • What Panty Poop Stories/Experieces Would You Like To Hear?

     immp updated 3 months, 3 weeks ago 5 Members · 5 Posts
  • oopsiepoopie

    Member
    January 16, 2021 at 12:20 am

    I haven’t been active on this site in some time, and thus have built up a plethora of panty poop experiences to share, so many I have no idea where to start.

    So, I am taking it to the forum, if there’s a particular experience you’d like to hear I would love to share mine.

    I have pooped myself publicly, many times, many places — Work, University, Malls, Concerts, Sporting Games, and such. I have stories of accidents and intentional messes. Experiences for diarrhea, soft messes, or hard poops.

    So many things to write about, It’s hard for me to pick!

  • blueskyparis

    Member
    January 16, 2021 at 7:35 am

    Hi oopsiepoopie,
    I like when girls let go in Jeans or leggings, from desperation or just for the fun (or because they give up)
    Hard or mushy but no diarrhea, I really like personal and real experiences
    I see that as a “total” experience with the sensation, the noise, the warm, the smell
    I have some examples in mind from toiletstool.com like this :

    Michelle
    Well I had one hell of an embarrassing accident this weekend….

    In case you didn’t read above I’m Michelle. Found this site like 7 years ago when I was researching advice about my then 13 year old daughter’s bed wetting problem (she has it under control now thankfully) and after what just happened to me I thought of this place and figured it’d be the place to share. …so a bit about me, i’m in my early 40s, white, brown hair…like to think I look pretty good for my age. I had a divorce 5 years ago so I try to stay in shape since I’m “available”. On that note, the person whom I was with who witnessed my humbling moment was, in fact, my ex husband. We are good friends actually, we just didn’t mesh as a married couple, hence the divorce after several years of trying to make it work. But we get along well living separate lives from one another and do spend time together fairly often. Anyway, on Saturday we both took a drive together to go see a couple of friends of ours who are celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary. They live about 4 hours from us these days so we were planning on driving up late Saturday afternoon and spending the night at a motel before their event which was on Sunday, a mid morning golf outing and picnic followed by a small gathering at their house (it was actually a lot of fun even though I don’t really care for golf). I’m pretty regular with my bowel movements, but it didn’t exactly dawn on me before we left that my usual early evening dump was gonna be ready sometime in the middle of our drive, otherwise I probably would’ve tried to make myself go before we left, for comfort’s sake. But I didn’t, so about an hour into the drive I was building up a fairly strong urge to poop. I held it. Ninety minutes in, pressure started to mount. I held it. I really wanted to try and make it to the motel rather than make a pit stop for a number 2…Bout an hour later, I really had to go and it was getting pretty uncomfortable, and another hour and a half of holding it in seemed out of the question, plus by that time my bladder decided to join the fun and I had to pee pretty bad too, which certainly didn’t help. So I swallowed my pride and said to my ex “hey David, next time we get a chance to stop I’m gonna need to hit the ladies room.” He faked being annoyed and let out a big exaggerated sigh and said “FIIINE…but number 1 only we’re only gonna stop for 2 minutes.” I laughed and said “well tough I’m gonna take all the time I need!” To which he replied “ahh OK gotta drop the kids off at the pool i see…that’s fine I’ll let you out and keep going you can call a cab when you’re done.” I played along and said “sounds good, just find a place.” I did my best to sound cool and calm about it but in reality I was in pretty urgent need of the bathroom because of my failed attempt to make it through the whole ride, and wanted to beg him to stop as soon as possible. But I knew if I did he would tease and screw around even more. I discretely folded my hands together in my lap to hold myself as I pressed my knees firmly together and “clenched”. It was getting really bad… 10 minutes later he zipped right by an exit with a sign for some gas stations…my heart sank and I said “why didn’t you pull off there???” And he said in this smartass taunting way “that’s one of those deals where the stations are like 3 miles from the exit down some other highway…there’s a better exit coming up…sorry i didn’t realize it was such an emergency!” I felt a little embarassed for revealing just how desperate I was, but I mean, I was getting very desperate.

    We approached the next exit and it was similar to the previous one where the gas stations weren’t exactly just off the exit, but I made him pull off there anyway even though he insisted the next exit was gonna be one with gas and restaurants right off the highway. I didn’t care though I just needed to stop. We pulled off and had to meander down some desolate tree lined roads of nothingness before 5 agonizing minutes later we got to the gas station. My heart sank when we got there because it didn’t have any kind of market or anything, just a window you walked up to to pay for gas. I got out of the car to check for a bathroom anyway, and as soon as I stood up I felt just how serious the pressure was. My bladder was throbbing and I was starting to involuntarily push a little bit and kept having to concentrate on clenching my cheeks harder, a phenomenon I’ve seen referred to as both “turtle heading” and “prairie dogging.” I promised my body that the bathroom was near and held on for dear life and shuffled gingerly to the window. I asked the attendant if there was a restroom, trying not to sound like I was on the verge of disaster even though I was, and he just mumbled “port o potties in the back.” I thanked him and did my shuffle around the side of the building and found the two port o potties… the first one was locked and when I tried pulling in the door I heard an old man voice say “occupied!” No problem, there was another one…I opened it up and to my horror it was absolutely OVERFLOWING with waste!!! It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. There was no way to use it without literally sitting in waste. So I basically felt like crying. I stood waiting for the old man, desperately waiting, debating in my head whether I should wait, head back to the car and find another place to go, or take off across a field behind the gas station towards some brush I could take cover in…but as I thought it over the decision was made for me…

    None of those options would be the case…I stood there and finally turtle headed, or prairie dogged, past the point of no return. I pushed beyond my control, and couldn’t get it back…a warm, firm log slowly forced its way into my panties and light beige khakis causing them to bulge out, then quickly broke off and was followed by a much quicker bout of softer mush that spread across my butt and up toward my back, all with a lovely soundtrack of crackles and blurps… I stood there helpless outside an occupied gas station port o potty and completely pooped in my pants, at the age of 42…with my ex husband waiting for me in the car. And yeah, you better believe that my bladder wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity for the sweet, underwear-soiling relief my bowels had just gotten. It might have already been happening as i pooped, but i didn’t notice until i was done pooping that pee was also steadily flowing out and soaking my pants all the way down to my shoes, the tingly warmth darkening the backs and insides of my legs and front of my crotch, and also spreading onto my butt and mixing it up with my mess, creating just the loveliest sensation…

    I was then relieved. I stood completely still in my pee puddle, almost in a daze, and tried to plan my next move. I certainly wasn’t gonna try and deal with my mess in a port o potty, so it was time for the long lonely waddle back to the car to face the music from David… as soon as I saw the car, I just started bawling- which surprised me. I didn’t feel like crying when I was pooping and peeing myself, or immediately after I was done..I just felt more annoyed and embarrassed than anything, but for some reason seeing the car with David waiting made me just lose it. It was probably for the better because he got out of the car and seemed really concerned and compassionate, rather than bursting into laughter and making fun of me which I’m sure he would’ve done if I didn’t start crying. He just said “aw damn Michelle I’m so sorry, I shoulda stopped sooner…ya OK? Come on it’s all good….you’ve got a change of clothes in the car..” I couldn’t even speak. I felt so humiliated and could barely even look at him. Next thing I knew he was handing me my overnight bag telling me he’d wait while I changed..then i told him it was port o potties and I couldn’t clean up in there. He seemed troubled… I guess he was having to face the reality of me needing to get back in his car in pee soaked, poop filled pants. But he thought on his feet and grabbed a bunch of those reusable grocery bags from his trunk and lined three or four layers of them on the pessenger seat and said “OK, we’ll pull over at the next exit.” I carefully got back in the car and slowly lowered by butt into the seat, and the feeling of my mess squishing beneath me was almost as bad as the initial moment of pooping my pants. We rolled all the windows down of course… I settled in for a long ride, because I decided (with some protest from david) that I would prefer to just tough it out for the remainder of the drive and clean myself up in the motel bathroom than a public one, so that I could use the shower. And so that’s what we did…another 90 minutes or so in the car, sitting in my own mess, pants soaked with pee… it was positively glorious, just how I had planned it…

    Getting to the motel and getting to change my pants and shower was amazing. It was like finding an oasis in the desert and drinking fresh water after being on the brink of total dehydration. But as soon as I was all cleaned up and changed that was David’s cue to go from supportive and empathetic to TOTALLY making fun of me. He wouldn’t stop making jokes about heading to the convenience store and offering to pick up some depends… faked calling the front desk and asking them to bring a plastic sheet for the mattress… etc. But I had it coming of course and it was in good fun…you have to laugh about it… Thankfully though, he thought better of telling people at the party about my accident, I would have been so humiliated if he did…but I must confess I did tell one friend of mine at the party, who I trust with my life, about the whole thing and shared a good laugh about it. She admitted to once wetting her pants on her way home from the grocery store and chalked it up to life when you get over 40!

    Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my story, and I certainly hope its my last for a long, long time!

    -Michelle

  • adylovesit6970

    Member
    January 19, 2021 at 4:40 pm

    Wes, it seems as though the world’s your oyster in terms of where you start. Personally I find the idea of a middle aged woman (old enough to know better but not old enough to have developed common continence problems), doing it in her pants because she couldn’t be bothered to go to the toilet or put off going for too long. Beyond that, the specific context isn’t really important.

  • Bill

    Member
    January 25, 2021 at 3:27 pm

    I’d love to hear about your diarrhea poop stories.

  • immp

    Member
    April 9, 2021 at 10:16 am

    I’d like to hear any accounts – real or fiction (although real are best if all) – of noticing dirty underwear in changing room situations. Ideally someone taking off or putting on undies with marks or bigger stains, either where the writer notices them on someone else or the other way round. Stories of discovering discarded panties or pants would also be welcomed.

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