I have posted this before, but I think it worth a read. Tell me what you think.

This is a rather intriguing incident from my middle teens.  Certain aspects I’ve never really figured out.  

Trevor had been my best mate for several years.  He was very beautiful with an exceedingly well defined body, but I was too young to understand my attraction.  When we were both 15, Trevor approached me at school one Monday morning and asked if I might want to go camping with him on the Skykomish River that weekend.  We both fancied ourselves photographers and he assured me there would be plenty of opportunities for photo-ops.

So late one Friday afternoon in April of 2004, Trevor and his dad picked me up for the 70 minute drive to Skykomish from Seattle.   Trevor’s dad would fetch us Sunday afternoon.

Almost as soon as we were deposited at the campsite, things started to go wrong.  It was cold, rainy and windy, we had trouble with the tent (neither of us were Boy Scouts), we couldn’t get a decent fire going to cook (ended up eating Nalley’s chili right from the can), and to top it off, it didn’t appear we had dressed warmly enough.  We were basically two spoiled mummy’s boys.

Saturday morning was dark and overcast, but after a make-shift breakfast we bravely grabbed our cameras and headed down to the river.  There had been heavy snow pack that winter, and the river was rushing as if in some kind of uncontrollable tantrum, with very angry looking rapids.  It was all sort of thrilling.

The scenery was really gorgeous, as that part of Washington State always is, and we were taking pictures like crazy.  After lunch -cold, stale sandwiches- Trevor announced he had to wee.  So he walks down to the bank, whips his willie out and lets it fly.  I made a pretence of looking the other way.

He rejoined me and we got more pictures, but it was becoming very obvious that the weather was deteriorating at an alarming rate.  Trevor insisted on some more pictures, but as I was fumbling with my camera, the lens fell off and landed right in back of Trevor.  As I bent down to pick it up, I smelled that unmistakable odour…  it was obvious that Trevor at some point had shit in his pants.  I was totally shocked, and yes, I could see a bit of a bulge in his jeans.

Before I could really process this bizarre unexpected turn of events, the skies opened up and it started pouring- we ran back to the tent, but not before we got totally soaked.  Thank god our cameras survived.  Inside the tent, Trevor pulled out some cigarettes he had stolen from his dad.  The cigarette smoke somewhat covered up the smell, though Trevor acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  (Note: neither of us eventually took up the habit.)

For several hours we listened to music (we were unusual in that we both liked classical music, Beethoven especially), told dirty jokes (rather ironic?) and talked about school and girls, but I never got up the nerve to ask him what happened, nor why he hadn’t so far cleaned himself up.  He seemed not to be the slightest bit bothered by the load in his underwear.  

Later that evening, the rain stopped, and after dinner (most unsatisfactory- we missed our respective mum’s cooking), Trevor disappeared for about 20 minutes.  He obviously went off to clean himself up and ditch his underwear in the woods.

The next day, Trevor’s dad duly arrived to pick us up, but we were both tired and slept most of the way back to Seattle.  I wonder if his mum ever questioned what happened to the pair of jeans she probably washed that evening.  

Trevor and I remained friends through the duration of High School, but I never did get up the nerve to inquire what happened.  The following year he abruptly left school midway through morning classes, and I knew what had happened: he messed his pants.  

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  1. I love this incident. Thanks. Beginning in the 3rd grade, and up to high school, there was always a guy (or guys) known to poop themselves regularly at school. (They were encopretic, I now know.) You can guess that I was fascinated. I wanted soooo much to be friends with them, to know all about it. But the only proper response was to tease them mercilessly. How sincerely, and for many reasons, I regret that behavior today.

  2. Thanks for reading the blog. @DLandyboyz91: a few years after the ‘incident’ I came out and asked Trevor if we could date. He kinda freaked out, and we didn’t speak much after that. But I think Trevor was a massive closet case. I’m sure he eventually came out, but after we graduated from high school he moved away from Seattle. Don’t know what he is doing, can’t find him on Facebook.

  3. @tock11: I had never heard of the word ‘encopretic’ before, but I have done some research online -lot of info out there- and I think that explains a few things about Trevor. What seems worrisome to me is that this condition continued up till high school. That is very, VERY rare, but then you have to factor in the possibility that Trevor may have taken pleasure in messing his pants. Generally -in most cases at least- encopretic behaviour ceases by early teens if not much sooner.

  4. True about the time it stops. Usually at puberty, when the social pressures kick in and the kid makes efforts he hadn’t made earlier. When it doesn’t stop, however, it means the kid has no idea what to do, and the condition may continue into adulthood. Some rare kids may take pleasure, but it’s more likely that they can’t imagine life without soiling, a real head game that creates a block to stopping.

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