Peter’s Pooed His Pants

After being called down from my room for lunch, I sheepishly entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, joining my sisters Alison and Becky.
Mum, Peter smells, my younger sister, Alison said after a few moments, wrinkling her nose a little.
My mum came a couple of steps toward me and sniffed. Yes, he does, she agreed, tutting.
Becky inclined towards me, sniffed audibly two or three times, and said He stinks.
Has he pooed his pants?, Alison asked my mum.
You’d better ask him, said my mum.
I’d been worrying about this moment all afternoon. It must have been about four hours since I’d pooed my pants and I’d been upstairs in my room keeping myself to myself since then. I knew I smelt, and the smell made it very obvious what I’d done.
I’d been having the urge to do a poo since not long after breakfast and I had just tried to ignore it, and the first couple of times it came on I was able to resist, but the next time some poo forced its way out and I tried to squeeze it back, even crossing my legs, but it didn’t work, in fact it probably made it worse. I patted my bum, and felt a firm bulge in my pants.
At first I was anxious about it and stood there biting my nails, but pretty soon I started to think about other things. There were a couple of programmes I liked that were about to start so I sat down to watch, and that flattened the bulge a little and squished it against my pants. When the programmes finished an hour later I stood up and immediately smelt myself, and that sort of reminded me what I’d done, as the programmes had taken my mind off it to some extent. I reached behind and patted my bum, tried to unstick my pants by gently pulling them, and got a whiff of poo as I did so. I smelt my fingers. I was starting to stink and I knew that as soon as anyone came near me they’d know what I’d done.
I tried to amuse myself with some games and at times succeeded in almost forgetting what I’d done, until the smell brought it once again to the forefront of my mind, and as the morning progressed and the moment when I would have to face my mum drew nearer, my anxiety increased once again, peaking into a moment of panic when I heard my mum calling me from downstairs that my lunch was ready.

Have you pooed your pants? Alison persisted.
No, I mumbled unconvincingly, feeling my face go red.
You have, you stink, Alison went on before my mum interrupted her.
Alright that’s enough, just eat your lunch, she said, seemingly cross with Alison, which pleased me.
Lunch was spaghetti on toast and I enjoyed it – I was suddenly hungry. I also started to feel less anxious about having pooed my pants. It was often the case that I would fret beforehand about what would happen once my mum found out but then once the initial embarassment of the discovery was over with the anxiety lessened, albeit that I still felt very self-conscious and awkward.
Alison and Becky chatted with my mum and I sat there quietly, hoping that my smelliness wouldn’t be mentioned again, and starting to think about going back upstairs to carry on with my games, when mum asked for volunteers to help with the washing up. Alison got up eagerly, Becky reluctantly, and I stayed where I was, hoping to slink away unnoticed, once the three of them were over at the sink.
He has pooed his pants though hasn’t he mum? Alison persisted, fanning her hand in front of her face to indicate that I smelt.
Stop picking on him, he’s embarrassed, Becky said.
Can I go and play, I asked, and mum said yes, please do, and I headed back upstairs to the sanctuary of my room.

Once upstairs I started to relax, enjoying the fact that the worst was over with and mum, Alison and Becky had smelt me. Alison’s reaction was fairly typical – she was fascinated every time I pooed my pants and almost couldn’t stop talking about it. Mum didn’t seem too angry with me, although I had received several disapproving looks from her, and she had tutted once or twice in that way she had.
About half an hour later I heard her coming upstairs and go into the bathroom, and I knew she would come into my room afterwards and was bound to say something about what I’d done.
She pushed the door open and said It stinks in here. I felt my face going red.
Well, your sisters know you’ve pooed your pants, she said, and waited. Nothing to say?
I shrugged and waited for her to go. She tutted and went back downstairs and I wondered how long it would be before Alison also came in…

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Responses

  1. Nice memory. I hope you have more to tell us.

    Hearing those sorts of comments from someone and knowing you have been discovered is quite confronting, even when you partly expect it. It’s something that happened to me, but I also went undiscovered a lot more. That gave me an inflated confidence in my ability at getting away with what I had done. It also often made me chose to keep it in my underwear rather than deal with it. During school I was often the prime suspect when it came to who had pooed their pants, and I was usually guilty. I got so accustom to it I sometimes took the blame, like when I covered for a girl in my grade. The next day she thanked me for what I had done and started sitting beside me. It soon became obvious why but I still covered for her.

    At one stage I complained to a teacher why she only suspected me, but I soon regretted that. After she rather abruptly put me in my place, she said something like, “well prove it then, show me your underwear”.

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