I have been a member here since the WetPantsBoy days. Back in January, I summed up the bravery to wee and poo my undies on Live Chat; and have indulged a number of times since. A couple of days ago, I posted my first couple of videos. I’m so gratified at the reaction to my first two vids.
Now I have an idea I want to try to create: a show based solely around a character wetting and pooping their undies.
The style I envision is a kind of modern take on the old silent film genre. Episodes will feature little to no dialogue, with the plot delivered primarily through physical actions. Some new twists on old-style plot devices will be used: such establishing shots of key props (e.g. a bottle of laxatives), and silent-movie-style captions.
To begin, the series will feature two characters, based on this back-story:
Sir Ronald McFilling-Undiesworth: Heir to a vast family fortune, Sir Ronald is one of the most influential players in the underpants industry. His family’s business, Undiesworth Underpants Inc., has provided premium undies to Europe’s elite for more than 500 years. Sir Ronald is so proud of his product, the he often refuses to wear any clothing over his magnificent underpants. Sir Ronald even demands that his household’s servants proudly display their Undiesworth undies. Unfortunately, Sir Ronald has a problem. His bowels and bladder are both very overactive… a condition passed down through many generations of his family. He invariably finds himself in situations in which he simply cannot make it to the toilet in time.
He sometimes suspects that treachery is afoot. But he has no idea that his nemesis, the Count, is behind it.
Count Accidento de Pantalon: The Count was once a graceful, generous and beautiful man; loved by all whom lived within his County. If the people of Pantalon were known for one thing, it was their reverence for large women. The County’s annual festivals featured many events showcasing the beauty and talents of the largest women. There were all kinds of contests: Women could be weighed, to see who’d gained the most weight since the previous festival; groups of husbands would be blindfolded and would try to identify various wives by groping their huge breasts and buttocks.
But the people also knew of the Count’s love of poo. It was custom in Pantalon for a visitor in a person’s home not to flush their poo, so that their host may admire and enjoy it once their guest departs. Poo was also a huge part of the festival. Both men and women were encouraged to poo their pants on at least one day of the festival. The main event was the Count’s Face-Sitting. To compete, huge women would hold in their poo for up to 20 days before the festival. On the first evening of the festival, the women would drink a ceremonial tea brewed from the Haustrava Herb – a herb native to the area, which could be used as a laxative strong enough to force out such a large mass of poo. Often, more than 50 women would choose to compete, but only 20 can move on to be judged, by the sitting on the face of the Count himself. The women would quickly fall prey to the Herb, and try desperately to hold their poo in. One-by-one, they bow out, having enormous accidents. They retire to the Great Hall, where they each get a luxurious bed, and the finest of food and drink for the remainder of the festival. People may come to the Hall to see, feel and sniff the impressive accidents on display. Finally, when only 20 are left holding in their poo, they take turns to be judged. The Count lies on the ceremonial bed in the centre of the stage. One-by-one, the 20 women enter, hover their enormous buttocks over the Count’s face, have their massive poo accident, then gradually sit down on the Count’s face. After having 20 giant accidents sat into his face, the Count chooses his favourite, based usually on size and smell. The 20 were then excused, and would often sit on the faces of anyone who thought they could handle their huge, poo-covered asses. This contest was loved by all, especially the Count, for years…. until the tragedy.
The contest had been won a number of times by the Count’s own wife. He had returned from an overseas holiday years earlier with the most beautiful woman the County had ever seen. Countess Bodon-Kedonk was amazing, with watermelon-sized breasts and bum-cheeks bigger than any woman could hope to have. Her single-day poos were gigantic, and she could still hold them in for nearly a month. It was customary for the women competing to be provided with top-of-the-line Undiesworth Undies, the only undies capable of withstanding such massive accidents, which would otherwise burst through any other clothing. This would prevent the escape of any poo through the tight skirts, dresses or pants the ladies chose to poo in. The countess loved her Undiesworths, and refused to poo anything else. But for one festival, they just weren’t enough….
The Jamja Fruit had recently been introduced to Pantalon. This spicy fruit was not only tasty, but would cause a person’s poo to come out feeling considerably warmer, and at least 10 times stinkier. In preparation, all of the women, including the Countess, added Jamja to their diets; hoping to amaze the Count with their much warmer, stinkier accidents. The Countess felt that she needed to rise to the challenge. She took a huge risk, and began holding in her poo much earlier for the upcoming festival. In the last days before the festival, she felt she may have made a big mistake, as she struggled to contain her poo. On the first day of the festival, she accompanied the Count, mingling amongst the people. She was constantly dropping farts that lasted for up to 2 or 3 minutes each. Some beloved that the Countess was pregnant, but were amazed when the she insisted that it was all poo. “Pregnant!! Ha! More like ‘POOgnant’!”. Women’s tummies would often expand a little as they held in their poo, but the Countess looked like she was ready to give birth to twins.
Finally, the evening arrived. The Haustrava Tea had been brewed and the Count would give his speech, commending the women on their size, and the massive poos they were holding in. As he rose from his chair, the Countess began letting out a fart, muffled by the ornate padded chair. He stood centre stage and spoke eloquently for at least 5 minutes about the festival and his people. The stage was clouded in a strong aroma of poo. The 67 women competing needed to fart regularly to relieve the pressure in their bowels. When the Count resumed his seat, the Countess was mid-fart and continued to fart for at least another minute. As the Count smiled, the Countess informed him that this was the end of the fart she had started as he rose to give his speech. At had gone for at least 6 or 7 minutes. The ladies drank their tea and quickly began fighting their bowels, desperate to be one of the final 20 who would get to poo their undies in the Count’s face.
Within 10 minutes, at least 30 women had lost control and done poos in their beautiful outfits. The first to lose was the lovely 20-year-old Catarina, who was finally declared “fat enough to compete”. The Haustrava-Jamja combination hit her hard, and less than 2 minutes after drink the tea she had exploded. 12 days worth of poo had turned rapidly to diarrhoea and she cried as she burst in front of the crowd. With nearly half the women out, the Count announced that the Countess had crushed her previous holding record. As three dozen women, including the Countess, struggled to hold in their poo, the Count amazed everyone by disclosing that the countess had been holding her poo for 52 days. The shear shock of the announcement caused 14 more women to immediately poo their undies. No other woman in festival history had held their poo for more than 30 days, and besides the Countess, the longest-held poo in this year’s festival was two-time winner Maria, at 26 days. The countess herself had a previous best of 38 days. After 2 hours, the contest was down to the last 20, including Maria and the Countess.
As defending champion, the Countess was required to go last. 19 women would poo their undies in her husband’s face before she could taste sweet relief. Many of the 20 were in agony, at their absolute poo holding limit. The stewards would first select the women who seemed closest to losing control. Each woman would get on the bed and hover their ass about 10 centimetres over the Count’s face for a few seconds. They would then have their accident. It was considered a great achievement if their bulging accident could bridge the 10cm gap and gently press against the Count’s face. When their bowels were empty, the women would slowly lower her ass onto the Count’s face, squashing and spreading their massive poo throughout their undies and their outfit.
For a while, it seemed the Countess would not last long enough to for the 19 other finalists to have their turn. Her face was bright red, and she was crying, grunting and moaning loudly. If she was “POOgnant” as she says, then she was deep in “Poo Labor”. Finally, it was her turn. The accidents this year had been the biggest and stinkiest in history, and the Count seemed to be high on poo fumes. The crowd gathered as the Countess hovered at the customary distance. She visibly gave up holding and a giant fart roared out, causing birds nesting in nearby building to flee. But… no poo. The Countess desperately wanted to poo, and declared she would have to push. She was indeed giving birth. She strained and struggled and eventually it started coming out. What looked like a rugby ball made of poo quickly bridged the gap and started pushing hard against the Count’s face. The super-firm start of the poo was merely a plug; and finally gave way to an unbelievable mountain of soft, extremely warm and eye-wateringly stinky poo. Her tight zebra-stripe skirt had ripped open as her undies swelled enough to fill a wheelbarrow. The Countess actually had to lift her bum further away to make room for it all to fit. But it was to no avail, as something else had failed.
The Undiesworth Undies, which came with an unconditional guarantee, suddenly gave way. The fabric burst, and more than 50 days worth of poo exploded into the Count face. The spiciness of the Haustra and Jamja combination quickly began to burn the Count’s eyes and he began screaming in agony. 50 days worth of fermented spice began burning his skin, as the exhausted countess sat down on her husbands face. Quickly she realised what was happening and got up, assisting the stewards in scooping handful after handful of poo from the Count’s face. It was burning their hands, but the Count was unable to breath under a mountain of poo. They finally freed the Count and could wash his face. He was nearly blinded and had lesions all over his face and neck. His face had been scarred beyond repair…. The disfigured Count resorted to wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. He abandoned the Face-Sitting and would instead feel and sniff the pooey asses of his contestants.
It was all Undiesworth’s fault. If they’d done their job, he’d be fine. He sued Sir Ronald, but unsuccessfully. Sir Ronald told the court that the guarantee on his undies was for 30 days worth of poo. The Count argued that Sir Ronald had told him they could “hold quite a bit more”. In the end, Sir Ronald convinced the court that no underpants manufacturer could foresee a woman holding her poo for 52 days.
The disfigured Count swore perpetual revenge. He would ensure Sir Ronald ruined every pair of his precious Undoesworth Undies. By any means….
What do you think?