I decided that I wanted to go running three miles last night, even though it was frigid cold.
Earlier in the evening, I ate a fuck ton of prunes (almost an entire container) because I was hungry and they were there (haven't been to the store in a while, so I've been running low on snacks). Without thinking about it, I left my house and began running.
1.5 miles into the run, I felt very gassy. I began farting, but the gas pains wouldn't subside. It was interrupting my run so badly that I had to stop in my tracks for a minute. I ripped a couple of massive farts. As I went for a third, I could feel that releasing it would unleash a shotgun blast of diarrhea into my running shorts. I held it back until I could feel it recoil into my intestines.
I began to run again but the pain came back even stronger. I came to the realization that I would have to walk the rest of the way, or risk shitting my fucking pants and having the residue stream down my leg for any passers-by to see.
I began speed walking the rest of the way home in earnest, knowing that there were absolutely no spots along the way where I could release the foul beast coiling inside me. I contemplated shitting in a patch of grass not touched by the light of street lamps (It was about 10 PM), but it was too risky-- there were houses everywhere.
The pain was getting worse every minute. I trudged on, dreaming of the minute I'd get to annihilate my fucking toilet. I counted 5 separate instances where the shit pushed all the way down to the asshole, and I had to clench it shut in order to keep it from flowing out. After about 1 to 2 minutes of clenching, it would climb back up into my colon in defeat, only to try again minutes later.
When I got to about a block away from my house, I felt as if my sphincter was about to literally explode. I said fuck it, and sprinted with my house key in hand.
I got to the door and yep, it was fucking DOUBLE LOCKED. After fiddling with the keys clumsily, I managed to get in the door and stumble 5 feet extra to the downstairs bathroom. It shot out like a cannon before my ass was even on the seat.
In short, no feces got in my trousers, but the result of holding it in so long was SEVERE pain as it came out. I was on the can for at least 15 minutes, moaning all the while.
Crisis averted.
Everyone, please share your stories of nearly shitting yourself. After all, it is a true test of manliness.
Earlier in the evening, I ate a fuck ton of prunes (almost an entire container) because I was hungry and they were there (haven't been to the store in a while, so I've been running low on snacks). Without thinking about it, I left my house and began running.
1.5 miles into the run, I felt very gassy. I began farting, but the gas pains wouldn't subside. It was interrupting my run so badly that I had to stop in my tracks for a minute. I ripped a couple of massive farts. As I went for a third, I could feel that releasing it would unleash a shotgun blast of diarrhea into my running shorts. I held it back until I could feel it recoil into my intestines.
I began to run again but the pain came back even stronger. I came to the realization that I would have to walk the rest of the way, or risk shitting my fucking pants and having the residue stream down my leg for any passers-by to see.
I began speed walking the rest of the way home in earnest, knowing that there were absolutely no spots along the way where I could release the foul beast coiling inside me. I contemplated shitting in a patch of grass not touched by the light of street lamps (It was about 10 PM), but it was too risky-- there were houses everywhere.
The pain was getting worse every minute. I trudged on, dreaming of the minute I'd get to annihilate my fucking toilet. I counted 5 separate instances where the shit pushed all the way down to the asshole, and I had to clench it shut in order to keep it from flowing out. After about 1 to 2 minutes of clenching, it would climb back up into my colon in defeat, only to try again minutes later.
When I got to about a block away from my house, I felt as if my sphincter was about to literally explode. I said fuck it, and sprinted with my house key in hand.
I got to the door and yep, it was fucking DOUBLE LOCKED. After fiddling with the keys clumsily, I managed to get in the door and stumble 5 feet extra to the downstairs bathroom. It shot out like a cannon before my ass was even on the seat.
In short, no feces got in my trousers, but the result of holding it in so long was SEVERE pain as it came out. I was on the can for at least 15 minutes, moaning all the while.
Crisis averted.
Everyone, please share your stories of nearly shitting yourself. After all, it is a true test of manliness.