After an enchanting day at the Farmer’s Market, I drank a venti mocha frapuccino, a free gift for getting so many stars at Starbucks. I am feeling fine and feel I can handle this monstrosity of lactose overload since my intolerance had not flared up in a while. After walking for a mile, the digestive juices started causing waves in my rumbly tumbly. I let out series of quiet rancid farts all the way to the train station I giggle to myself with evil pride knowing that they smell like death to whoever is downwind of this gaseous tail of stench. I get on the light rail for about a 20 minute ride, the cramps start getting worse but I just squeeze out some pre-shit farts to feel better. I had a massive turd (or a massive blob) of shit that was begging for its freedom. Unfortunately for me, we get stuck at every red light in the city, and someone is requesting every single stop making a 15 minute trip feel like an eternity. The cramps kept coming and now I was in real trouble… I was out of gas. My rectum was under immense pressure, and I no longer had a pressure valve I could release. My butthole started to dilate. I was crowning, and sweating profusely as the air around me reeks of the last 20 minutes of fart. I told myself, I’ve had bad urges like this before and I was always able to make it. Like a cornerman to his boxer, I told myself “You can do it!”
I made it to the quiet street I live on, but it was still about 0.25 mile to go. My hole is in total desperation mode as it stretches and relaxes with each cramp. I feel like any bump or startle and everything is going to come out. So far, just a bit of sweat and maybe a shart or four in my undies. No biggie, I’m feeling good. But things were not going too well down there. I was already crowning and apparently got so used to it, that I didn’t realize the turtle head was poking out and I was touching cloth. Suddenly, I feel a small piece of poop, the turtlhe head, get cut off and fall into my underwear. It’s solid. Phew. That’s a relief. I can handle that, and it feels naughty and hot. I’ve shit myself on purpose plenty of times, but never in public, and the number of true accidents I’ve had I can count with half of one hand.
About 20 steps later, the final cramp hits. There is nothing I can do. My underwear is about to become my toilet. I know I am not going to make it home and my stomach is in severe pain, and I was in a kinky mood. I had never shit myself in public before (except in college when really drunk during a farting contest), at least not at the magnitude of what was about to happen. I decided now is no better time to try. I am not going to make it anyway. It doesn’t take much effort for what feels like two gallons of, to my surprise, soft liquidy shit to completely fill my tight lycra boxer briefs like they’re a water balloon. It feels heavy back there, and kinda good, and I feel instant relief. But fuck, I had hoped it was a solid turd. As the flood gates erupt, my hole forms a vacuum effect practically sucking my entire body down. Every muscles tenses and my face is bright red. The bottom of my boxer briefs quickly fill first and runs out of room, and it starts going up my crack and up my back. All and all, this episode takes about 4 seconds to get everything out. “This isn’t so bad” I think to myself, dizzy from all of the muscle contractions. The stench hits as I lift my leg to take a step. Phew! I stink like a barnyard animal surrounded in its own shit. I start walking home amazed at what I had just pulled off, with a total mess sloshing around in my now destroyed underwear and nobody can tell except me.
What happens next I am not prepared for. I had just gotten over the fear of what would happen if I shit myself right there in the street, but now I had something else to contend with. With every step, inch by inch, shit is rolling and flowing towards the back right pant leg of my boxer briefs looking for an exit. I am hoping the elastic band on my leg would keep it in. No dice, it starts flowing down to my gym shorts, and then down into my white socks and on my shoes for the whole world to see. Up to this point, I had gotten away with it. My long shirt and dark shorts were hiding the monster that now resided in the seat of my underwear. But now what? I start to walk slightly faster to try to get home to clean up, when a small chunk of shit falls out the bottom of my shorts and onto the sidewalk. It’s not in my butt anymore, I cannot control what it does. I now have both pure liquid shit and chunks running down the back of my right leg. A brown spot on the back of my shorts I can play off as sitting in something, even though they couldn’t see that. But there is only one explanation for brown streaks coming down my leg from underneath my shorts, and everybody knows it. I look behind me and am hit by the godawful (yet pleasurable) stench of the load that has stretched out the back of my underwear into a bowl of gelatin. I see a good looking couple coming towards me a couple hundred feet away. Great. I couldn’t care less about them smelling me (I am a proud farter after all), but the back of my leg was covered in shit! And apparently I had also stepped on the poop nugget that had fallen on my sidewalk and smeared it, with the skid marks on the sidewalk pointing right to me, standing in the bushes. I dangle my cloth shopping bag over the bottom of my leg trying to hide the mess I made in the back. They walk past me without any comment and without any eye contact, even after their dog sniffed the spot denoting my evil crime. Phew. I can handle this.
I start to feel another cramp, but it’s different in nature. It’s the kind I usually like: my colon inflating like a balloon. It’s my friend, the fart, but at the absolutely worst time. For the first time in my life, I do not want to blast this fucker out. Because, if I did? The gas would bubble through the contents of my backside like the La Brea Tar Pits, forcing more shit down my already caked right leg. So I do like men have done for ages for new girlfriends, and I hold it in. Every ten seconds or so, I turn around and look for pedestrians or cars downwind of me, and I turn to my side and pretend I am answering a text message, so they cannot see my disgrace. After what feels like an eternity, and several waves of shit sliding down my right leg, I can finally see my apartment complex coming up.
Finally, I make it to my complex. I know there are plenty of bushes and pillars I can hide behind should I see someone about to spot my deed. I am now walking much faster, not caring that the contents of my underwear is now emptying down my leg. I make it inside, drop my groceries, and rush to the bathroom, partially because I want to clean up and partially because I want to see how much damage I did to my bright blue lycra boxer briefs. It only takes a few seconds for the entire apartment to stink like my shit. I waddle around finding every towel I can to contain the mess I am about to make when I pull these underwear down since they are stuck to my ass like glue. I get them down and see it was a type 5.5, between a 5 and a 6, what one author calls “mudbutt” — I call it more of a shitsplosion. Now that I am at home and got the underwear off, I blast out the fart I was holding in, which instantly covers the towels I had set down on the floor. See, I am always thinking ahead.
It took about 30 minutes to clean myself well enough that I knew I could jump in the shower without making it disgusting. It tooks several loads of laundry and rinses in the toilet to be able to wash all of my completely saturated clothes: my underwear, my gym shorts, and my right sock and shoe. It took 2 wash cycles to get the brown out of my blue lycra undies, and 4 washes to completely get rid of the smell of shit.
If for some reason the urge to shit myself in public comes up again, I will make sure I bring toilet paper (to clean up my leg), or at least be sure that it’s a firm turd. With firm turds, even if it rolls down my pantleg leaving minimal skid marks in my undies and maybe my leg, at least that’s the brunt of the damage to my ego.
NOTE: The pictures of the damage are in my photos.