First it happened at MotoMart…
Then it went down in McDonald’s…
Now it was about to reoccur in Melissa’s car…
As Melissa and I drove across the Poplar Street Bridge from Illinois towards downtown St. Louis, Missouri I went to take a picture on my phone of the Gateway Arch as pretty much everyone does on bridge. Well, at the very moment I went to snap my photo a tractor-trailer truck inserted itself into view making my photographic attempt null and void. As regrettable as this was it was nothing compared to the regret I was soon about to have. For at the precise time the semi truck blocked my view of the Arch, lightning struck me sending an instantaneous electric current throughout my body. Now this lightning is not of the traditional weather variety, but rather the intestinal kind, the type that precedes what I like to call Thunder Shits.
As my stomach lurched like Optimus Prime transforming from his tractor-trailer truck form to the leader of the Transformers inside me, I threw my phone down into the cup holders leaving Melissa to throw a look of disgust my way.
“All because you couldn’t get a picture?” She sneered.
“No! All because I’m about to shit my pants!” I moaned back. I knew the moment was coming fast because I could feel the storm raging inside me as it had only twice before.
“OH MY GOD, NO!” Melissa hollered. “Oh my God, no! No! No! No! You cannot be fucking serious right now!” She spoke words of disbelief but the look on her face told me she knew that this moment was about to get really real.
“I’m not kidding. I’m going to poop my pants. I can feel it. I probably have three minutes till impact.”
“Oh, God! What should I do!?!” Melissa said as I could hear her engine rev up a little as her car picked up speed.
“Get off at Union Station and I will hopefully be able to go inside and shit,” I groaned in reply. My stomach was twisting and turning inside like it would just before an Alien was going to burst through my chest. This was the most uncomfortable sensation I had experienced in seven years time.
“I-do-not-want-you-to-poop-in-my-car,” Melissa rattled off breathlessly.
“Oh my God, I’m going to die!” I hollered out in agony as I twisted my torso up into the air all while taking off my hoodie. The heat of my body was beginning to make me simmer and that mixed with the pain of my abdomen had me in a state of terror. “You have got to go faster, you seriously have got to go faster!” My brow became a beacon of sweat and those beads began to dribble down my whitened face. I had never been more uncomfortable or pained in all my life.
“I’m going as fast as I can with this traffic,” Melissa said as she swerved around various other commuters. “Please don’t poop in my car!”
“Just drive! I can’t keep talking. It seriously hurts so much!”
“What’s the problem? Do you think you’re going to be sick?” Melissa asked in concern.
“My asshole is about to be very sick, yes!”
“Oh my God. Please do not poop in my car; please do not poop in my car. Oh my God I cannot believe this is actually happening.”
We had finally reached the exit ramp for Union Station and with our turn towards it I felt a quick bout of relief, but that was all dashed within an instant when my eyes met the sight of the Metro bus stopped at the end of the off-ramp. I started to breathe heavily and repeatedly into the hollowed out arm of my hoodie. I knew impact was imminent and had to do everything I could think of to delay the inevitable, but it was not enough. We pulled up right behind the bus and waited at the intersection for what felt like an eternity and it was in this stationary moment that the true events began to unfold.
“Oh my God, it’s happening! It’s happening!” I screamed out in pain and just like butter in a frying pan my asshole started bubbling out clumps of shit. It was as though a non-stop flow of molten poop erupted from my anus completely laying waste to my boxers and backside.
“OH MY GOD I CAN SMELL IT!” Melissa screamed through her gags and coughs as she rolled down all four car windows. “It smells like a fucking baby’s diaper!” She stuck her head out the driver’s window and gagged as I continued defecating myself.
With the release came the easing of the pressure I had built up intestinally and while I was thankful for that I was now sitting in a pancaked pile of my own sloppy feces. It was not a good place to be in.
“Keep heading to Union Station, so I can let the rest of it out,” I remarked, my voice less shaky than before. I was worried she thought I had let out everything I had in me, but I was still holding some back for the moment I finally got seated on a toilet.
The bus had finally pulled off and we were able to turn towards Union Station. All the while she drove Melissa coughed and gagged as we both kept getting blasted by the fecal fumes enhanced by the breeze through the windows. While it smelt absolutely awful it didn’t quite impact me the same. After all, everyone loves their own brand.
Melissa pulled up to a parking metered spot and I threw open the door before she had even come to a complete stop.
“Oh my God, let me at least park!” She called after me as I had already taken to running clenched-cheeked up the steps to the hotel at Union Station.
As I reached the double doors I grasped both sets of handles and pulled with all my might. Nothing. These damn doors were locked. I wanted to scream out in terror, but there were several individuals walking down the sidewalk, so I thought it best to maintain my composure as best one could given my shitty circumstances.
I flew down the stairs I had just climbed and walked steadfastly towards the declining stairwell that led into the mall portion of Union Station. Fortunately, these doors were open.
I dashed through the double set of doors and straight down the main thoroughfare of the mall towards the restrooms. Unfortunately for me, these restrooms were extremely public and had room for well over a dozen individuals between all the toilets and urinals it housed. I darted towards one of the toilet stall doors and about broke it off the hinges trying to shut it behind me. Despite having already pooped myself worse than ever before I could feel the next wave coming and needed to make sure I was firmly seated on that toilet before any additional impacts were had.
I sat down and relieved myself fully of the remaining buildup inside me. I remember sitting there while the jetstream of poop continued flowing from my asshole and looking down at my boxers. They had somehow managed to create a bowl of sorts that preserved the tapioca like texture of my poop from seeping out from within. It literally looked like someone had taken a ladle of beef stew or chili and just dumped it into my boxers. It was an unbelievable mess. I cannot even pretend like I wouldn’t have Snapped that shit to Melissa had Snapchat of been around then. It is an image that only lives on in my mind and that’s probably for the best because it was a whole new world of toxicity.
I vividly recall the tracing paper thin toilet tissue I was forced to use. It took me three flushes and about a hundred plies to ensure my backside was free of debris. Now that I was as clean as I could be without having a shower I had now entered the trickiest part of these situations: getting my boxers off without smearing shit on myself. Luckily, I’ve had enough practice in this art that I was able to pull them off without a hitch.
Unlike my past two experiences shitting my pants, I was not going to be able to rescue these boxers from being tossed out. I had always properly washed them in the respective restroom sinks and wrapped them in some paper towels to be machine washed later, but this restroom was a revolving door and I was not going to risk anyone seeing me washing my undergarments. They probably would have thought me homeless! This unfortunate pair was going to have to be thrown away.
I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing me, so I hovered over my boxers on the floor for a couple minutes till the moment I deemed the coast clear. Once I decided it was safe to exit the stall I reached down and grabbed my boxers from the part that rests normally around the waist, which caused all the poop to slide into the center. I didn’t want my shit dotting the floor, so I clasped them tight. I opened the stall and spotted the trashcan across the room nearly the very opposite of where I was. Shit! I thought, but I had already hesitated too long. An older gentleman came around the corner and saw me standing there with what essentially a manmade diaper in my hands. His eyes and expression livened as he watched me make my way to the trashcan.
“It can happen to anyone,” he assured me kindly with a slight grin.
“Well, it’s happened to me three times,” I told him as I started washing my hands.
“Three times!?!” He called out in disbelief. “Son, you are too young to have that goin’ on. You might wanna get that checked out.”
“You might be right,” I agreed as I grabbed a paper towel to dry my hands. “Well, thanks for the advice,” I called out awkwardly as I left the restroom. I wasn’t really sure just what the proper way to part with someone who had just witnessed you dumping your poopy drawers in the trash was, but that felt fitting given his advising demeanor.
I walked through the mall and out the double doors back outside to Melissa’s car where she was still patiently waiting.
“They made me drive around the block because they said I couldn’t idle here too long. Damn! You were seriously in there forever!” She exclaimed.
“I had a lot of business I needed to finish up with and then some guy saw me tossing out my poop shorts and I got stuck in that conversation.”
Melissa started laughing at the revelation that I got caught red – or should I say – brown handed with my shit britches in my hands.
“You’re so fucking gross,” she said through muttered laughter. “You’re seriously so fucking gross. I cannot believe you pooped in my car. This is disgusting.”
“We need to go back to my house now because I have got to shower. There is no way I can to your cousin’s birthday party at Lumiére Place casino in this condition.”
“You think I’m going to let you sit in my car all shitassed for longer than I have to!?!” Melissa cackled. “We are going back to your house right now!”
The rest of the night was standard, but I should note that apparently some poop had seeped out from the borders of my boxers and on the ride back home it created an almost glue like substance that made the skin of my butt feel like it was permanently sewn to my jeans. It was an awful feeling, but definitely a unique one.
Well, I do hope you all enjoyed my third pants pooping as much I as loved retelling it! Several of you have been requesting it, so I hope it was all that you were hoping for! As always thank you so much for reading and have an amazing rest of your week!
More pants pooping posts:
Melissa you are a saint- a fucking saint!!! Benjamin you should thank your lucky Jiminy Cricket stars that she said yes to marrying you!!
She had already soiled her car with her own vomit! After my shit fest we really just need someone to urinate in there & we’ll be set! 😬😂
AHAHAHAHA!!!! I was cracking up the entire time reading this! Probably the best poopsie-daisy story yet! And I can’t believe someone saw you with poopie boxers in the bathroom?! I would have probably died of embarrassment! 😳
It was a little embarrassing, but mostly hilarious. It was like everything that could go wrong did! 😂