This is a story about the most embarrassing situation I have ever been in. And if you think that this story is a load of crap... well... you're right.
It all happened fifteen years ago. I was a teenager, working at my summer office job. I was on the computer, getting my work done, when the loudest churning noise I have ever heard came from my stomach. Before I even realized I had to take a dump, my rectum spewed forth the most incredible amount of diarrhea imaginable.
And it just kept coming. And coming.
At the time, baggy jeans with elastic cuffs were the in-thing. The MC Hammer style! My pants were thus basically full of hot, wet diarrhea that was kept in when I stood up, thanks to the elasticated pants cuffs. My pants were full almost up to the knee on the one side, which managed to get more of the diarrhea trickle than the other.
To make matters worse, this was an office in someone's home. The boss was upstairs, and that's where the bathroom was.
I was standing there in a bunch of hot, stinky diarrhea, and I did not know what to do with myself. I remember getting angry at God for a second, but then thanking Him that the elastics were tight enough to keep it all in.
I delicately made my way upstairs, looking left and right... no one was around. I went in the bathroom and cleaned myself up. Washed out my pants. Man, I was gagging the whole time. My pants were soaked after I washed them and cleaned myself up.
I explained to my boss what happened and he sent me home with pay, he felt so bad for me. But man, did I stink up his place! Somehow, though, as if through divine intervention, I didn't get one drop on any carpet or surface. Even the chair I was in was perfectly clean. The jeans were also very thick... thank God again.
I got in my car to drive home. Now, my home was about a forty-minute drive. And halfway there, I realized that I had to crap again.
In agony at this point, I was clenching my rectum as tight as I could so my wet pants didn't fill up again. I found the nearest coffee shop and did a shuffle inside. I went to go use the restroom -- and the woman told me it was for customers only.
I said, "But I --" and she interrupted me, "You have to buy somet -- " and I crapped myself right there in the middle of the coffee shop. In front of people eating chocolate-filled donuts and muffins.
The sound of it was atrocious. Loud, thunderous farts and hot liquid magma spewed out of my poor hole. This movement was worse than the one at the office. I started to cry in embarrassment, as I was subject to twenty people watching me fill my pants with THE worst case of diarrhea I have ever had in my life. It felt like it went on for at least a minute. Every eye was on me.
The woman ran and opened the door and I ran into the washroom. I didn't have anything left in my bowels, so I just cleaned up. On the way out, one woman was mopping the floor. My pants, already wet from washing them the first time, hadn't been so forgiving the second time around.
The woman who told me the washroom was for customers only gave me a donut and a drink and said she was sorry. I said it was okay and then departed. The place had pretty much cleared out, though; I guess my ass perfume scared them all away. I made it home without incident but had diarrhea for three days. I lost ten pounds.
