If I had a nickel for each time my parents shared with me how I was able to fill up a diaper unlike any other baby they’ve seen or heard of, I might be able to shave about $400 off my debt! Apparently my pediatric poops were so massive that some diapers were incapable of containing all my contents. In those cases, my poop would just seep out the sides and ooze all down my little baby legs. I bet it’s safe to assume my parents NEVER imagined their son would be experiencing nearly the very same thing at 34!
Because of these bodily mishaps, I now believe more than ever that is is finally time for me to take back the crown my parents assumed I outgrew more than three decades ago. For now that I have my sixth pants pooping experience under my belt, there can be absolutely no mistaking the fact that I am the nickname my parents called me as a baby, I am The Poopy Diaper King.
It almost seems awkward that I’ve managed to somehow share five stories with you all about pooping my pants and never once mentioned this over thirty year old moniker my parents have referred to me as time and time again. Really and truly, I feel embarrassed by this blemish. I mean, how could we have reached my sixth story together and still you all are just now hearing about a title given to me as a baby!?! It’s an injustice that I can only hope and pray you’ll not only overlook, but ultimately forgive me for. I know it’ll be a long journey ahead for me to repair the trust I’m sure you all have now lost, but hopefully, through the entertainment provided in this story you’re about to read, you can find it in your hearts to forgive me for this unintentional criminal cover up.
Our latest story takes place on the morning of Wednesday, June 17, which puts us about fourteen months removed from the fifth and previous time I pooped my pants (see: Come Clean). Now normally Melissa would be at work as she typically is Monday through Friday, but she happened to swap this Wednesday for a Saturday shift, so as a result, she was home this lovely summer morning. Well, my alarm went off at 8:43 like it always does and as I always do, I got up out of bed, brushed my teeth, took a shower, and got dressed for the day.
Every Monday through Friday morning at 9:30 Central Standard Time I call one of my best friends, Amanda, who lives out in California and we talk for the half hour it takes her to drive to work. This morning was no different, but because Melissa was home and still in bed by the time 9:30 rolled around, I left the house to go get some breakfast and host my call in the car.
I was really feeling some doughnuts so I went to Duke Bakery, the cute little bakery down the road here in Cutesville, and I got an original glazed and a cinnamon rolled one. My two favorites of theirs. I then was really craving an iced mocha coffee from Burger King because they’re delicious! I’m serious! If you haven’t treated yourself to one of these delectable lil’ drinks then you really need to do so now. They use Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup in the mix for that extra special mocha flavor. I love it! Better than Starbucks if you ask me. You can tell it’s totally healthier too and you all already know I’m a true life clean eater. Anyway, now that I’ve established what’ll be blowin’ out my asshole in an hour I can carry on.
So after getting my doughnuts and coffee I drove to the Disneyland of Illinois, that’s right, Wilson Park. I parked my car in front of the ice hockey rink and public pool buildings and tucked it in right underneath a shade tree and enjoyed my breakfast all the while talking to Amanda on the phone. Once the clock turned 10:00 we said our farewells and I ended the call, but as I hadn’t been on social media or anything yet that morning, I sat there for another twenty minutes or so before finally exiting my vehicle.
I got out of my car and responsibly threw my trash away and proceeded to walk the park. As I approached the flower garden from State Street, I walked in past the old St. Elizabeth’s Hospital obelisk that stands tall at the beginning of the pathway, and just as I was about to reach the second flower bed where the three flag poles rise high lightning struck.
By now we should all know what kind of lightning I mean, not the traditional electric kind, but the intestinal one that erupts across my entire body and puts me in an emergency state of Thunder Shits. Having been down this road too many times to count, I knew I would have to forfeit my longing to sit on my favorite bench out by the fountain. My anus was about to erupt and as the park was quite crowded that morning with other walkers, I hoped and prayed I’d reach my car before the storm set in.
I glided across the pathway as fast as I could walk without running, I was wearing flip-flops, so my brisk pace made that flopping noise louder than I feel like I’d ever heard. It was a cozy 75º that morning, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at me. Sweat was raining down my face like I had just ran a couple six minute miles! My armpits were especially sweaty and I knew I looked a frightful mess, but thankfully I was dressed real cute in a pair of navy Polo Ralph Lauren shorts with a red thick stripe down the side that commemorates the 2012 London Olympic games and a red Polo Ralph Lauren v-neck tee with a navy pony. I’m always the best dressed person on my walks at the park, but that wasn’t going to mean a damn thing if I defecated myself on the park path. No one would recall what I was wearing – only that I shit on the sidewalk!
As I hustled along the for what felt like seemingly forever I decided to text Melissa to tell her I was moments away from pooping my pants again and that I needed to make sure she wasn’t in the bathroom in the optimistic event I made it home in time. As I was sending my text this Lassie looking dog started barking and jumping out at me and even though she wasn’t that close, my instinct was to jump out of harm’s way, which I did, right into the grass. The upsetting motion thrust my body into overdrive and I could feel myself about to explode. The owner of the dog apologized and I replied with a simple, “no worries,” but there was worry, worry that I was going to poop my pants right then and there. The parking lot where my car rest underneath the shade tree was in sight, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could hold it. The abrupt jolt I gave my body from a hop in the grass thwarted any hopes I had of making it home. I knew for a fact I was going to poop my pants for the sixth time in my life, the only thing I didn’t know was when and where.
I power walked towards the parking lot and even walked out in front of a turning car. Had that poor old man of hit me my body probably would have just exploded in a shitty mess, but the risk paid off and he hit his brakes. I threw up a hand in apology and he kindly did the same. He wasn’t driving that fast, so I figured all the while I was safe, but still, he clearly wasn’t thinking I was going to go, but he obviously didn’t know I was about to blow.
I had safely reached my car without shitting myself and I quickly sat down inside and peeled off the lot like one of those out-of-town drivers does when they come down to Cutesville, all kinds of squeals and noises from the tires and engine, you know, real hoosier-like. I was panting like a damn dog inside my car as I wiped the sweat from my brow with a handful of napkins I’d grabbed from the glovebox, but the calming nature of sitting still had thrown my body into an advanced overdrive and I could feel my asshole beginning to hiccup. As I sped down Fehling Road towards the high school stop sign, I could see up ahead that to my extreme misfortune there were a handful of cars waiting to make their turns and go their own way. This sight of stress was the straw that broke the camel’s back and I sat there in my driver’s seat and filled my boxers up with hot, steamy shit as I drove along the road.
Given that I had literally just shit all over myself while driving, I returned to my traditional style of such and quit the abrasive speeding. This was certainly no longer necessary as I sat there wafting in the smells my own stool. I rolled the windows all the way down as the putrid smell made me feel slightly lightheaded. Some fresh air was becoming a must.
A few minutes later I turned in our driveway and parked the car. Getting out was always tricky with shorts on because I didn’t want to shake any poop loose and get it on my car, so I turned my body and put both my feet on the ground and grabbed the top of my shorts and pulled them upwards thereby smashing the poop up against my bottom thighs. It was disgusting yet necessary move on my behalf to ensure that not only did I not get shit in my car, but it didn’t dribble all over the driveway either.
Melissa was kind enough to leave the door open and I was able to quickly get inside and up the stairs to the bathroom where I sat down and finished relieving myself of the mass saturation of stool that I had still inside me. By now we all know that I never let it all out, I always let out just enough to lower my stress system and proceed as normally as one can with a pair of boxers that had been fully renovated into a diaper.
Because I had really yanked those shorts up and smashed all that stool against the lower portions of my thighs, it had managed to cake itself in every possible nook and crevice, any which place my boxers traditionally covered. It was absolutely disgusting and I felt grimy and gross. I was taking pieces of toilet paper and scooping literal chunks of gooey shit away from my inner-thighs. I’d describe the texture and look best as like a caramel brownie cake batter. I don’t ever recall having to do anything like this before in regards to the scooping. There just seemed to be an extreme abundance of it this time around and even as I sat there on the toilet more and more was still escaping my asshole.
Naturally, I left the bathroom door open as all this was transpiring, I definitely didn’t want to lock myself in there with my odious stench, so several minutes after this poop plague was transpiring, Melissa returned home from taking our sweet Céline for a walk. When she walked inside she hollered out, “SMELLS LIKE YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT!”
“I DIDN’T!” I hollered back down at her.
“Oh my God, you’re disgusting,” she said with a cough before adding, “it smells fucking awful in here. The whole house smells like a day old diaper!” She started opening all the windows in hopes that it would circulate some clean air into our house of scented horror.
I had managed to make such a grotesque mess of myself that wiping in the traditional sense didn’t even make sense at this point. I just had shit smeared all over my lower half and plenty along my right hand and lower arm as well. It was a losing battle, so I turned on the shower and when I had done the best I could cleaning myself to that point, I hopped on in and stood there under the water and watched as it hit me clear and left me brown.
Once I had washed my whole self up – TWICE – I got out carefully and dried myself off away from the rug that sat before the toilet that had my soiled and pants and boxers sitting in the middle of it like an animal’s dead stinking carcass. Once again clothed, I returned to the bathroom and carefully picked the rug up from either end and folded it, so I could be most assured nothing was going to leak out as I walked it down to the laundry room.
Melissa was sitting downstairs on the couch just shaking her head, “I can’t believe this has happened to you six times now.”
“I know, it’s unbelievable,” I coughed as I caught a blast of the anal odor that suddenly sprung up from the rug.
“No, it’s pretty believable to me,” Melissa said dryly as I threw the rug in the washer.
“Let me tell you how it happened this time,” I said as I emerged from the laundry room to an eye-rolling Melissa.
And there you have it! The tale of my sixth pants pooping incident! I do hope you all were able to laugh and smile at my messy misfortune! I always get a lot of flack from some of the more prude people in my life for sharing these incidents, but how incredibly selfish would it be for me to keep these gems all to myself!?! I’m not a monster – I’m a king – The Poopy Diaper King in fact and these stories are my royal decrees!
As always, THANK YOU so much for viewing! I appreciate you greatly! Feel free to leave me a comment below as I love reading and responding to them! I’ll return soon with another all-new post, so until then, I wish you all, all the best!
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Even though I already knew about this incident, I laughed so hard while reading this thanks to your EXTREMELY detailed description. You truly are the poopy diaper/pants king! Haha!
Why, thank you! Like I hinted at in the blog, it’s time I wear my crown proudly. I can no longer deny my royal destiny! 😂
I know what gift I plan to get you – a roll of plastic cover, a ton of plastic bags, and depends – what is your size please??? LOL!
That sounds like the perfect care package! My car could ease up on the stress of being poo’d in! 😂
How does this keep happening to you?
I wish I knew! Just a lot of bad timing I guess!
Thank you for not making us wait 14 months before sharing this round. So much action and the descriptions are to die for! I love that Melissa left the door open & I can totally hear the comments that played out between you two.
What can I say except – “you’re welcome!” 😂 Thank goodness she left that door open! If I had to let go of my shorts to unlock & open it up I would’ve left a messy pile on our doorstep! 🤦🏼♂️😂