7th Heaven

It was a cool autumn evening on October 21, 2020 when while preparing my next blog, I thought I’d treat myself to a little break and go for a walk around the Disneyland of Illinois, Wilson Park. Well, like any other time before it, I parked my car in the lot that serves both the ice rink and the pool and proceeded along the path in the direction of the high school.

As I neared the old Niedringhaus School with the high school now in my rear view mirror and a set of baseball fields off to my right, my stomach began to feel extremely queasy as it seemingly rolled over itself as it tends to do. It was one of those moments for me where it felt as though an entire circus worth of acrobats and aerial artists were performing inside my abdomen. This was a clear cut sign that I was going to need to make an emergency pit stop at the restrooms by the playground and take myself a big ol’ poop!

With a newly hastened pace, I hustled down the paved path towards the restrooms with all my subtle might. I tried to ensure I was moving at maximum speed, but with minimum exposure, I didn’t want to make it too obvious in my hustle that I was about to blow. As I rounded the corner of the closed-for-the-season concessions stand I found myself within mere feet of the men’s restroom thinking that the promised land was before me till a jarring voice called out,

“They’ve gone and locked up for the night!”

Choosing to ignore what I most clearly heard, I proceeded to the restroom door anyway and gave it a series of unsuccessful tugs. Nothing. The voice was correct, the restroom had most definitely been locked up for the evening.

I carefully maneuvered myself around the wall and saw the informant. He was a cane carrying, overalls wearing, elderly man dressed in a big smile who had seated himself at the most centered cafeteria style table under the awning.

“Ya know, there’s another set of restrooms down the way by the gazebo,” the old man shared encouragingly. “I can bout’ promise ya they won’t be locked cuz’ the door on the men’s side is busted right up. Thing won’t even shut right if ya wanted it to,” he added with a laugh.

“Okay awesome, thanks so much,” I replied through a smile bathed in angst. “I’ll have to make my way down there,” I lied knowing that never in a million years was I going to make it to the other end of the park in time. Having been in this very predicament on six prior occasions, I knew good and well at this point there was no turning back and that for the seventh time in my adult life I was going to poop my pants.

Despite having little to no time to waste, I awkwardly stood there under the pavillion with the old man contemplating my next move, for it wasn’t a matter of when I was going to poop my pants as much of a matter of where. Knowing that the busted door restroom down the way was out of the equation, I thought the only choice now was for me to return to my car, which from where I was standing was just a straight shot across the playground and past the ice rink. Given that pooping my pants was inevitable, I figured I’d rather be as close to home as possible, so I could immediately wash the poo residue from my loins.

As I began my walk towards my car I noticed something interesting going on inside me, the faster I moved, the less I felt like I had to poop, so in a flash, I took off running towards the parking lot. As I rounded the pathway with my car now in sight, a glimmer of hope came to my mind, maybe the ice rink building was open!

I jetted over to the ice rink doors and grabbed both handles with all my might. Mere seconds prior I had dreamt of this glorious moment where they both flung open in unison and I walked through them as I was surrounded by a golden halo of light. Sadly, this remained but a dream for despite all my door tugging efforts, they like the bathroom door before them, didn’t budge.

In a last ditch effort to save myself from myself, I pressed my sweaty as fuck face up against the glass of the door to better see inside, praying that some kind soul would take notice and allow me passage. In a most dramatic style, I cried out “SANCTUARY!” a handful of times while pounding on the glass door in the very same fashion Quasimodo’s mother did on the steps of the Notre Dame Cathedral just before Judge Claude Frollo kills her in Disney’s animated masterpiece, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. There was no more hope for me, all my chances had dried up, much unlike the moist stool circulating inside me that would soon be cascading all down the backs of my legs. On this night I was my own Judge Claude Frollo.

I penguin-waddled the short sidewalked distance back to my car, terrified that if I unclenched my buttcheeks too much it was just all going to start leaking out of me. I climbed inside my car and promptly rolled my windows down knowing that I was soon going to be in need of all the fresh air I could get. As I drove off the lot I could feel that circus within start to perform its final act of the evening. I began taking a series of deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling as slowly, yet as powerfully as I could in hope that I could somehow regulate my system for the 1.4 mile ride back. For a few brief and fleeting moments I felt that this was somewhat working, but no sooner did I begin to regain my confidence did the dirty deed happen, for the seventh time in my adult life I pooped my pants. 7th Heaven this was not.

I sat there in my own driver’s seat and filled my athletic pants right up with my gravied stool. The smell overran me and I quickly stuck my head outside my car window gasping for every breath of fresh air my lungs could inhale and drove the rest of the way as though there were something covering my windshield versus something covering my ass. So much poop had escaped me that I was easily sitting two inches taller. Tears of relief began falling from my eyes for as gross as it was sitting in all that fecal matter, it felt wonderful to relieve myself from my interior torment.

Once home, I parked my car as I always do in front of our house and carefully got out of my vehicle. I was so scared that too much movement would shake my stool right out my pant legs and into my car, so I moved with great caution. I made it out of my car without so much as a drop escaping, but the street and driveway didn’t share the same fate, I left what looked like a trail of tears behind me as I made my way up to the front door. This was so stressful.

I was so thankful Melissa wasn’t home because as I entered the house I left the same brown drops behind me from the front door to the bathroom upstairs. Thank goodness for no carpet! As I stood there on our bathroom rug and removed my pants and boxer briefs, I turned on the shower and waited patiently for the water to reach a pleasant temperature. Despite my backside being completely littered by a series of soggy diarrhea patches, this was the most beautiful I’d felt all night for I was finally free from all the toxicity that had built up within me.

Well, as always, THANK YOU so much for viewing! I do hope you found plenty of humor from my misfortune! Please feel free to leave me a comment below as you know I LOVE reading and responding to them! I’ll be back soon with another all-new post, but until then, I wish you all, all the best!

More pants pooping posts:

The Start of Something New

Oops!… I Did It Again

3

It’s Gonna Be Me

Come Clean

The Poopy Diaper King