muttyeah416
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I never thought it would actually happen until it did
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adamsappel
Member
Jill Sandwich
the turds of Optimus Prime
If you enjoyed reading this thread why not try
TALES OF THE SMEAR
TALES OF THE SMEAR
I once shat my pants while I was jogging. I thought it was just a fart but it was a 'Fart Surprise' where you get a lot more than you asked for.
Two annoying things made it worse: one, it happened at the furthest point of my run so I had to run another 5 kms with my pants full of crap till I got home and two, I was wearing running tights so it must have looked like I the worst hemroids ever.
Two annoying things made it worse: one, it happened at the furthest point of my run so I had to run another 5 kms with my pants full of crap till I got home and two, I was wearing running tights so it must have looked like I the worst hemroids ever.
Great Rumbler
Member
This thread is filled with some geniunely horrifying tales.
The closest thing I can come up with is that one time I threw up all over the lobby of my school's gymnasium. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you that. Turned out I had a stomach virus [probably from eating the barbeque weinies they served in the cafeteria that day] and so I spent the rest of the day dry-heaving into a trashcan.
The closest thing I can come up with is that one time I threw up all over the lobby of my school's gymnasium. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you that. Turned out I had a stomach virus [probably from eating the barbeque weinies they served in the cafeteria that day] and so I spent the rest of the day dry-heaving into a trashcan.
Mr. TV Goggles
Banned
:lol :lol :lol :lol :lol
I know a story myself. Well, it's not much of a story. Basically in kindergarten we were just sitting there and suddenly this litte kid has yellow poop coming out from the sides of his little pants. No one really laughed I think, it was sorta WTF but maybe we were too young to realize it (or maybe not). I can't remember laughing. But hey we might as well have.
:lol :lol :lol :lol :lol :lol :lolmasochist said:
I know a story myself. Well, it's not much of a story. Basically in kindergarten we were just sitting there and suddenly this litte kid has yellow poop coming out from the sides of his little pants. No one really laughed I think, it was sorta WTF but maybe we were too young to realize it (or maybe not). I can't remember laughing. But hey we might as well have.
I feel your pain man.
When I was in the 7th grade, one Sunday I went to a party and ate all kinds of crap, bufallo wings, buritos, so,e chinese crap...heck it was free
. I went home, took a shower and went to sleep.
I woke up next morning, took another shower, brushed my teeth, nothing out of the ordinary. I went to the bus stop with some kid of burning in my tummy, sat on the back, and on the way I thought I had a fire inside my tummy, I could barely move. When I got out, it stopped (I thought it was over), and so it began....
I went to first period, sat on the PC, and I heard the announcements to stand up for the Pledge of Alligeance (sp?). I stood up and I farted, a big bad fart, fortunately nobody noticed it, as everybody was looking at the sub teacher's perfect round ass. Yum Yum
I tried as hard not to fart anymore, I could barely feel my legs because of all the pressure I was putting on my butt.
And it happened, after 3rd period, my said said "I quit" and let all the shat go out. I ran to the restroom to try t clean it up, but the shat keep on coming and coming. I decided I couldnt bare with it, and I decided to go home. God was probably on my side, because there was at least 5 cops and none of them saw me. I ran as fast as possible, open the door and took a shower. Mom and dad werent home, I washed everything, I put on my PJs and watched Pokemans:lol
When I was in the 7th grade, one Sunday I went to a party and ate all kinds of crap, bufallo wings, buritos, so,e chinese crap...heck it was free
. I went home, took a shower and went to sleep.I woke up next morning, took another shower, brushed my teeth, nothing out of the ordinary. I went to the bus stop with some kid of burning in my tummy, sat on the back, and on the way I thought I had a fire inside my tummy, I could barely move. When I got out, it stopped (I thought it was over), and so it began....
I went to first period, sat on the PC, and I heard the announcements to stand up for the Pledge of Alligeance (sp?). I stood up and I farted, a big bad fart, fortunately nobody noticed it, as everybody was looking at the sub teacher's perfect round ass. Yum Yum
I tried as hard not to fart anymore, I could barely feel my legs because of all the pressure I was putting on my butt.
And it happened, after 3rd period, my said said "I quit" and let all the shat go out. I ran to the restroom to try t clean it up, but the shat keep on coming and coming. I decided I couldnt bare with it, and I decided to go home. God was probably on my side, because there was at least 5 cops and none of them saw me. I ran as fast as possible, open the door and took a shower. Mom and dad werent home, I washed everything, I put on my PJs and watched Pokemans:lol
TheQueen'sOwn
insert blank space here
.When I was in second grade, I went to a babysitter, so I rode the bus from the school to her house after school. I was in the bus with the other kid who went there, and we both had to go to the bathroom. He had to pee, and I had to poop. So we decided that whoever got there first, got the bathrom. The bus stops and I cut in line and shit to get off first, and I go hauling ass down the street. He was a heavier kid, so I could outrun him no problem.
I get way down the street so he's not gonna catch up, and I stop and start walking. I feel a fart coming, so I let it out. I notice that the ass part of my underwear had puffed out quite a bit. In my seven-year-old logic, I was amazed by the fact that the air was trapped in my underwear. So I took both hands and pushed the puffed out part against my ass. I should point out that I was wearing shorts.
I feel something sliding down the backs of my legs, and I look back in horror... liquid crap running down my legs and into my socks. I just kinda stood there, looking at it in disbelief. And then I heard that "eeeewww" that little girls do, so I ran the rest of the way to the babysitter.
I got in her house and interrupted her on the phone, and when she was all annoyed and went "WHAT?!" at me, I turned around to show her my day's work. She goes "omg" and takes me into the bathroom and washes me off, and finds me some clothing to borrow.
Moral of the story: a good woman will handle your junk if you shit yourself.
I get way down the street so he's not gonna catch up, and I stop and start walking. I feel a fart coming, so I let it out. I notice that the ass part of my underwear had puffed out quite a bit. In my seven-year-old logic, I was amazed by the fact that the air was trapped in my underwear. So I took both hands and pushed the puffed out part against my ass. I should point out that I was wearing shorts.
I feel something sliding down the backs of my legs, and I look back in horror... liquid crap running down my legs and into my socks. I just kinda stood there, looking at it in disbelief. And then I heard that "eeeewww" that little girls do, so I ran the rest of the way to the babysitter.
I got in her house and interrupted her on the phone, and when she was all annoyed and went "WHAT?!" at me, I turned around to show her my day's work. She goes "omg" and takes me into the bathroom and washes me off, and finds me some clothing to borrow.
Moral of the story: a good woman will handle your junk if you shit yourself.
valkillmore
Member
That was a fun read. I'm glad it happened to you.
I had a couple incidents, one as a kid, another when I was in college. Thankfully the later one was merely a "close call", but a very close one at that. The semester was over and my dad was driving me home, and all of a sudden I had a rumbly in my tumbly. After a while I realized I wasn't going to be able to hold it in so I told my dad to pull into a gas station. I waited outside the guy's bathroom for what seemed like an eternity while the several (wtf that just wasn't fair) employees looked at me weirdly as I was pacing around with my hands over my ass. After a while I just couldn't take it anymore and bolted into the ladie's bathroom not even knowing if there was anyone in there. Thankfully there wasn't because if there was, she would've had a lap full of diarrhea.
When I was in 5th or 6th grade, though, I shit my pants at my cousin's house. We were out at the lake about a five to ten minute walk from his house, and I told them I needed to head back to use the bathroom. Well about halfway there my moderately paced walk turned into a very urgent run as I dashed through their yard, practically busted down their back door, and then nearly burst into tears as about fifteen feet from the bathroom my pants erupted with sweet sweet diarrhea. Fortunately nobody was around to see me so I went into the bathroom and sat for nearly an hour wondering what the hell I was going to do. I eventually decided to hide my, as the friendly folks at the local thrift clothing shop would say, "gently used" pants under a stack of magazines next to the toilet. Brilliant idea, I wonder if they ever found them?
When I was in 5th or 6th grade, though, I shit my pants at my cousin's house. We were out at the lake about a five to ten minute walk from his house, and I told them I needed to head back to use the bathroom. Well about halfway there my moderately paced walk turned into a very urgent run as I dashed through their yard, practically busted down their back door, and then nearly burst into tears as about fifteen feet from the bathroom my pants erupted with sweet sweet diarrhea. Fortunately nobody was around to see me so I went into the bathroom and sat for nearly an hour wondering what the hell I was going to do. I eventually decided to hide my, as the friendly folks at the local thrift clothing shop would say, "gently used" pants under a stack of magazines next to the toilet. Brilliant idea, I wonder if they ever found them?
Oldschoolgamer
The physical form of blasphemy
zesty said:
OMFG!:lol :lol :lol :lol :lol :lol This whole thread is hilarious! This thread has it all!
TheQueen'sOwn
insert blank space here
kablooey said:
Awww man
.Sorta ontopic.... has anyone ever had one of those poos that are soooo big you need to stand up to get it out (cause otherwise it starts pushing back up and in)?
Illuminati
Member
Wow, this was a fantastic story. I've always wondered what would happen to myself in a similar situation.
*Edit:
*Edit:
You sir have won this thread so hard, I tip my hat to you. Archive this thread.Orin GA said:
When I was around 9 or so I stayed over night at my cousins house and somehow threw-up in my sleep. I awoke to find my head laying on a pillow covered in hurl, and as if that wasn't enough I was the first one up so I was stuck waiting for someone to wake up to tell them this wonderful thing I had done. :lol
Patrick Bateman
Member
whytemyke said:
Okay if we're telling I shat my pants stories...
I'm a pretty slender man. Try around 6' 2" 150 lbs. Naturally, I don't hold alcohol that well.
Especially when said alcohol is an entire fifth of Jim Beam.
As an Oregonian, I went camping in the woods with some buddies to get drunk. Well, unfortunately I can't tell you the whole story because I black out. Drinking by the fire is my last memory before waking up and really having to go the bathroom. Now, we didn't bring any tents we were just sleeping in our own cars. So I roll out of the back of my jeep, drunk as all hell, and attempt to go do some business in the woods. It seems this goes over without a hitch.
Fast forward to waking up the next morning. Hood of the sweat shirt I'm wearing is full of my vomit, as is my back seat and sleeping bag. So everything smells horrible. I drink a bottle of water and I feel much better -- for about 5 minutes when it comes up like a warm faucet.
Fast forward again to me driving home everything still smelling horrible in my car from my own vomit, making me have to pull over to vomit more every 15 minutes. Eventually I make it home to take a shower. Surprise! Boxers full of shit.
Also I managed to break my cell phone somehow while blacked out. Worst camping trip ever.
I'm a pretty slender man. Try around 6' 2" 150 lbs. Naturally, I don't hold alcohol that well.
Especially when said alcohol is an entire fifth of Jim Beam.
As an Oregonian, I went camping in the woods with some buddies to get drunk. Well, unfortunately I can't tell you the whole story because I black out. Drinking by the fire is my last memory before waking up and really having to go the bathroom. Now, we didn't bring any tents we were just sleeping in our own cars. So I roll out of the back of my jeep, drunk as all hell, and attempt to go do some business in the woods. It seems this goes over without a hitch.
Fast forward to waking up the next morning. Hood of the sweat shirt I'm wearing is full of my vomit, as is my back seat and sleeping bag. So everything smells horrible. I drink a bottle of water and I feel much better -- for about 5 minutes when it comes up like a warm faucet.
Fast forward again to me driving home everything still smelling horrible in my car from my own vomit, making me have to pull over to vomit more every 15 minutes. Eventually I make it home to take a shower. Surprise! Boxers full of shit.
Also I managed to break my cell phone somehow while blacked out. Worst camping trip ever.
Come here occassionally to laugh at your guys humor, post ever so rarely. Once again my good friend Zesty directs my attention to this thread with a simple "this thread was made for you lol"... Poop to me is hilarious so I was audibly laughing at both well described and detailed stories.
I have a story as well that can only be similar to the original thread poster.
A little info. I can't eat onions. My family knows this. They USUALLY prepare a portion of whatever meal that they might be preparing sans onions for me, and the rest of the family gets to enjoy the delight of onions. To be honest tho I don't really like onions so I'm not missing much. Well, regardless of whether or not I remove onions from whatever food I'm about to eat, even if it was improperly cooked with the onions that I asked to be removed, it's littereally a crap shoot. I fight the odds to see if enough of the acids from the onion have been absorbed by the rest of the food that was cooked with said onions or do I get a hall pass.
One Thanksgiving I'm out in Madison, as my sister is hosting the family's Thanksgiving Dinner that year. Well, in her preperations, she had forgotten the slight detail of my ever struggling gamble with the onion. Onions were litterally in everything. Me living in Milwaukee, which pending on how fast you drive, can be done in an hour or an hour and a half. Later that night on my return home, unknowingly I would test that time. After removing like a whole onion from my dinner, every bite that I took from that plate was just adding another bullet to the already overloaded gun. After dinner I was testing the waters so to speak. And amazingly I seemed fine. An hour past with no indication of anything to worry about. Then two hours. I had the feeling that I would be able to drive home with no incident. Wishing everyone a good evening I departed to take the one hour drive home.
Now for those of you not familiar with the Madison to Milwaukee drive, there are a couple stops. Usually 10-20 miles apart. Keep that in mind.
As I pull onto the freeway, I get the first indication that something is afoot. I pull on my seatbelt to relieve any pressure that might be placed on my intestines and then decide to fully unbuckle my seat belt as to not help things along. Unfortunately the intestines are to wide to hopefully block said passage ways from allowing whatever batter that was brewing to make it's way further down the pipe work. To be honest with my system, any outside pressure pretty much assists anything to go down. So this move bought me some time, for when taking off my seat belt, the issue seemed to pass. An exit approaches... I guage the feelings in my gut and decide that I should be okay and not need any stop to vacate that which is brewing on the inside.
Two miles after the exit passes, it hits like the force of Comet Levy Schumacher 9 hits Jupiter. The bullet gets loaded into the chamber and the firing pin has met the primer... oh it's coming now... and not much can stop it. I start wriggling in my car seat... hoping that some movement can buy me any amount of time, a second, a minute, a few minutes... anything... that prickly sensation starts to form on my neck knowing how screwed I would be if I unleash this hell that my sister has brought upon me. Sweat beads form on my forehead as I contemplate what to do... I pray for a Johnson's Creek exit sign to appear in my headlights... I decide to do what any motorist would do at that time... as the pressure builds inside my bowels, my foot pushes down on the accelerator. At the time I'm driving a '94 Saturn SC2. I pray that the tiny engine's dual over head cam system can get me to the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm doing 85 miles an hour on the freeway. Johnson's Creek 2 miles ahead. I push the accelerator down a tad more... 87 miles an hour. I notice in my rear view mirror that a new set of head lights has appeared on the freeway out of no where. I dismiss it as maybe I passed someone not realizing it since I was concentrating with every fiber of my being to hold back that which was destined to destroy my car. Doing 90 now as I see the lights of the outlet mall on the Northside of the highway... holding back everything now as I don't have much longer to last. I see heaven. The PDQ gas station which is about a half a mile away from the exit. I squirm a bit more... once again looking in my rearview mirror to see that the car behind me has caught up... and there's something above its roof... "F**************ck............" Well I ain't stopping. As I get on the exit I'm about half way down the exit before I hit the brakes to slow down as to take the right turn ahead at a safe speed. And now the trooper is on the exit. He's catching up fast and I start to think maybe I should just shit my pants right there so that he sees why I was speeding. However, duty calls and I need to make it to my planned destination which is a half mile away. Flying down the remaining state highway to the PDQ I park as close as I can to the front door and as I'm bolting to the rest room I see the trooper pulling in to the gas station. (This guy's determined.) Now for the grand finale.
Normally I'm sh*t shy. I can't poop if there's another person in the bathroom with me. But for the last 15-20 minutes I've been holding back the doodoo demons racking against my sphincter for release into the free world. I don't care if the Pope himself is doing his evening glory in the stall next to me. This stuff is coming out and I don't care what it does.
Pants around my ankles, ass against free air it all releases with that great nice peaceful sound of detonation after detonation of air, and fecal matter splattering the porcelain. In the middle of the third detonation I hear the bathroom door open and the sound of boots and keys. The distinguishable sound of a police officer walking into the restroom. I could care less... my ass isn't done with the percussion part of the show and is still going on.
The trooper had his answer. He was waiting to say it as he witnessed me flying down the freeway. In all his glory, he got himself a speeder on Thanksgiving. All hell was going to come down on this motorist. I knew he was going to ask the question, "What's the hurry, kid?" Well... at that moment... my ass was giving him the answer. And with that... the trooper closed the door and went no his merry way...
The rest of the drive home I did 64mph. Just to make sure.
I have a story as well that can only be similar to the original thread poster.
A little info. I can't eat onions. My family knows this. They USUALLY prepare a portion of whatever meal that they might be preparing sans onions for me, and the rest of the family gets to enjoy the delight of onions. To be honest tho I don't really like onions so I'm not missing much. Well, regardless of whether or not I remove onions from whatever food I'm about to eat, even if it was improperly cooked with the onions that I asked to be removed, it's littereally a crap shoot. I fight the odds to see if enough of the acids from the onion have been absorbed by the rest of the food that was cooked with said onions or do I get a hall pass.
One Thanksgiving I'm out in Madison, as my sister is hosting the family's Thanksgiving Dinner that year. Well, in her preperations, she had forgotten the slight detail of my ever struggling gamble with the onion. Onions were litterally in everything. Me living in Milwaukee, which pending on how fast you drive, can be done in an hour or an hour and a half. Later that night on my return home, unknowingly I would test that time. After removing like a whole onion from my dinner, every bite that I took from that plate was just adding another bullet to the already overloaded gun. After dinner I was testing the waters so to speak. And amazingly I seemed fine. An hour past with no indication of anything to worry about. Then two hours. I had the feeling that I would be able to drive home with no incident. Wishing everyone a good evening I departed to take the one hour drive home.
Now for those of you not familiar with the Madison to Milwaukee drive, there are a couple stops. Usually 10-20 miles apart. Keep that in mind.
As I pull onto the freeway, I get the first indication that something is afoot. I pull on my seatbelt to relieve any pressure that might be placed on my intestines and then decide to fully unbuckle my seat belt as to not help things along. Unfortunately the intestines are to wide to hopefully block said passage ways from allowing whatever batter that was brewing to make it's way further down the pipe work. To be honest with my system, any outside pressure pretty much assists anything to go down. So this move bought me some time, for when taking off my seat belt, the issue seemed to pass. An exit approaches... I guage the feelings in my gut and decide that I should be okay and not need any stop to vacate that which is brewing on the inside.
Two miles after the exit passes, it hits like the force of Comet Levy Schumacher 9 hits Jupiter. The bullet gets loaded into the chamber and the firing pin has met the primer... oh it's coming now... and not much can stop it. I start wriggling in my car seat... hoping that some movement can buy me any amount of time, a second, a minute, a few minutes... anything... that prickly sensation starts to form on my neck knowing how screwed I would be if I unleash this hell that my sister has brought upon me. Sweat beads form on my forehead as I contemplate what to do... I pray for a Johnson's Creek exit sign to appear in my headlights... I decide to do what any motorist would do at that time... as the pressure builds inside my bowels, my foot pushes down on the accelerator. At the time I'm driving a '94 Saturn SC2. I pray that the tiny engine's dual over head cam system can get me to the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm doing 85 miles an hour on the freeway. Johnson's Creek 2 miles ahead. I push the accelerator down a tad more... 87 miles an hour. I notice in my rear view mirror that a new set of head lights has appeared on the freeway out of no where. I dismiss it as maybe I passed someone not realizing it since I was concentrating with every fiber of my being to hold back that which was destined to destroy my car. Doing 90 now as I see the lights of the outlet mall on the Northside of the highway... holding back everything now as I don't have much longer to last. I see heaven. The PDQ gas station which is about a half a mile away from the exit. I squirm a bit more... once again looking in my rearview mirror to see that the car behind me has caught up... and there's something above its roof... "F**************ck............" Well I ain't stopping. As I get on the exit I'm about half way down the exit before I hit the brakes to slow down as to take the right turn ahead at a safe speed. And now the trooper is on the exit. He's catching up fast and I start to think maybe I should just shit my pants right there so that he sees why I was speeding. However, duty calls and I need to make it to my planned destination which is a half mile away. Flying down the remaining state highway to the PDQ I park as close as I can to the front door and as I'm bolting to the rest room I see the trooper pulling in to the gas station. (This guy's determined.) Now for the grand finale.
Normally I'm sh*t shy. I can't poop if there's another person in the bathroom with me. But for the last 15-20 minutes I've been holding back the doodoo demons racking against my sphincter for release into the free world. I don't care if the Pope himself is doing his evening glory in the stall next to me. This stuff is coming out and I don't care what it does.
Pants around my ankles, ass against free air it all releases with that great nice peaceful sound of detonation after detonation of air, and fecal matter splattering the porcelain. In the middle of the third detonation I hear the bathroom door open and the sound of boots and keys. The distinguishable sound of a police officer walking into the restroom. I could care less... my ass isn't done with the percussion part of the show and is still going on.
The trooper had his answer. He was waiting to say it as he witnessed me flying down the freeway. In all his glory, he got himself a speeder on Thanksgiving. All hell was going to come down on this motorist. I knew he was going to ask the question, "What's the hurry, kid?" Well... at that moment... my ass was giving him the answer. And with that... the trooper closed the door and went no his merry way...
The rest of the drive home I did 64mph. Just to make sure.
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