I know it’s a cliche, but I was on the way home, but I just couldn’t make it. So here is the story of the time I pooped my pants in front of my boyfriend:
My current predicament arose from the fact I hate using public toilets. Especially when I have to… you know… do a poo. I was on the bus with my boyfriend and we were heading home after having lunch in the city. I knew I needed to go before we left but since there was only two of us, I felt too embarrassed to leave him and disappear to the toilet for 10 minutes in order to empty my very full bowels. So I clenched down hard and told myself I’d be able to make it home before it was too late (oh, how very wrong I was).
It was getting pretty bad when our bus finally arrived at our stop. It had been half an hour at this point and I felt very desperate. To make matters worse, all the water I had drunk at the restaurant was now making itself known as my bladder added to the pressure down there. When I stood up to get off, I accidently let out a loud fart and my boyfriend laughed at me, as well as the other passengers, but they all tried to be more discreet about it.
I now had to move very carefully and climbing down the stairs to get off proved challenging and I let out a series of small, quieter farts but my boyfriend still noticed.
“You good?” he said, only half-joking.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine, come on let’s go.” I replied my face strained.
“Why what’s the rush?” he teased with a barely concealed smile.
The bus had pulled away from the curb and rejoined the anonymous stream of traffic.
“I really gotta go to the toilet, hurry!” I answered, frustrated now.
“Well it’s a 10 minute walk, do you think you’ll make it?”
“Let’s go already!” I said, avoiding the question. At this point I wasn’t sure.
We started off, but I couldn’t walk to quickly. It was a slow and painful journey, clenching my cheeks so hard in order to keep it at bay. I was sweating even though it wasn’t very hot but at least I wasn’t wearing white pants.
Though my skinny jeans weren’t going to hide much if I didn’t make it (which I was beginning to feel was more and more likely)
It was when we were a block away from home that I finally gave out. I stopped walking and bent over a little, leaning on my boyfriend. Despite myself, I let out a soft, pained moan, which I tried to muffle but I had very little control over myself at this point. It all came rushing out, absolutely filling the seat of my pants. It was soft, but still solid, the type that crackles as it makes it’s way into your pants. It felt like it would just keep coming. My skinny jeans were tight and the poop was forced into my crotch area covering everything. As it kept running out of room, it forced itself up my crack almost coming out the top of my pants and some escaped out of my underwear and down into my pants (though luckily, my skinny jeans didn’t let anything fall out of them). Finally done, my ass covered in warm mess and my pants so full it was almost painfully tight I let out a sob.
I had just shat myself. Like a baby. It wasn’t even diarrhea. Me, a fully grown, adult man had just shat himself in the middle of the street and was now crying.
My boyfriend just stood there, his face completely blank. I don’t think that he had realized the severity of my situation and never expected me to actually shit my pants.
Still crying and feeling very defeated, I wet myself right then too. The relief was immense as the warmth spread across my crotch and then down my legs, slowly pooling at my feet, a shade more brown than your average piss, courtesy of having mixed with all the shit that covered my crotch.
The wet mark on my crotch and down both legs was impossible to miss and there was a very obvious bulge where I shat myself (as well as quite an obvious brown mark though I didn’t realize it was that obvious until we got home). We didn’t live on a super busy street, but by the time we’d walked that final block to our front door, at least 10 people would have seen me.
Having relieved myself, I managed to stand up, look at my boyfriend tearily and begin trying to walk again, however the massive bulge in my pants made it look like I was waddling as I tried to avoid squishing the shit around too much even though it turned me on.
That final block felt so long but we finally got home. On the front doorstep my boyfriend seemed to have recovered and turned to me.
“What are you doing? Let me in!” I cut in before he could speak. I felt that my impatience was justified as I stood there in my absolutely destroyed jeans.
“Imma just head out and buy some things, you head in get changed. Try not to get shit on the carpet ok?” He bent down and patted my head before kissing me softly on the cheek and heading back down the street.
I felt so angry and embarrassed but despite all that, I collapsed to my knees on the doorstep, the poop now cold, squelching even further forward into my crotch and more escaped my undies as it smeared down my thighs. I was so turned on, I couldn’t help myself and I came in my pants, and I moan once more, as I kneel on the doorstep covered in shit, crying.