MAIN SECTIONS
MAIN SECTIONS
Stories About Poop Intellectual Crap Consumer Reports Fun with Feces Poop at the Office Techniques Travel Logs The Captain's Log Academic Poop Home  
RESOURCES The PoopReport Gift Pack Poop Culture: The Book The PoopReport Store The Skatole Shirt PoopReport FAQ Best Of PoopReport Press Room Advertise! PoopReport on Myspace PoopReport on Facebook NEWS AND ADVICE The BM News Wire Ask PoopReport Ask a Poodiatrist Eternal Debates FEATURES Special Reports Movie Poop Archive Toilet Paper Survey Pooetry Comics Poop Contests MOVEMENTS I Poop and I Vote!  Shameless Shitting Poop For Peace The Summer Stoolstice DISCUSSIONS Shit Of My Career Childbirth Poop Book Of The Shameless First Memory of Poop More... REPORT POOP Poop Forums PoopReport Chat Submit 
NavigationPoop Comics Our BuddiesLower left rotating ad most recent poll -- formattedPoop at the Movies |
 On The Job StrainingPosted 03.30.2007 by Pill Pooper (451)
When I started working full-time for myself about a year ago, all my shitting habits went out the window. As did my somewhat-reasonable diet. I went from eating a stable, balanced diet of mac, cheese, and Steakums to fast food and roadside dirty water dogs. And with this change in diet came other changes as well.
I tend to be an extremely shameful shitter. I will go as far as waiting for my girlfriend to leave the house before I decide to drop a big doot. If you've read any of my previous poop reports, you will know the severity to which I am speaking. Under NO circumstances will I ever shit in a public bathroom. I'd rather shit my pants and lie in my own filth then defecate in a public toilet. Insane? Sure. But we all have our problems; mine just happens to be public shitting. So I awoke one frightful day with a severe pain in my gullet. The type of pain that makes you think your appendix has burst and spewed poison throughout your body. I showered like normal, winced a few times in agony, and went forth with my day. As I was walking out the door, I grabbed a cherry Pop-Tart and a bottle of water for the ride to my first job. First stop of the day was Wendy's. It was as if God was trying to smite me. Just the smell of petrified grease was enough to unseat my already unstable bowels. I removed a few ceiling tiles to expose a vast cavern of dirt and just indomitable disgustingness. I gagged a few times, held my shit down, and continued on to finish my first job. Stop number two was a crappy old pizza place in the ghetto. This place was in such a bad neighborhood that even the roaches wore bulletproof vests. They were having a problem with their DirecTV system. I climbed up on the roof to take a look at the dish and, amongst many bullet casings, found the problem to be some bird shit. I cleaned the dish and went back into the pizza place to give the happy owners the bill. As I handed it to him, he handed me two slices of fresh, greasy, ghetto pizza. I'm not gonna lie: I was scared that if I didn't eat the pizza it would be taken as a sign of fear and I would be killed right then and there. So, when in Rome... My third and final stop was a cheese factory. I don't know if anyone out there has ever been in a cheese factory, but let me tell you this: the smell is fucken putrid. I really can't even compare it to something, but I'm going to try: it's almost like bleach and dog vomit mixed in a bag, then microwaved. I retched my way through the cheese factory and fixed the problem. It was the longest three hours of my life. After about the second hour at the cheese factory, my guts began to tumble and turn. I tried my best to grin and bear it, but the pain was just too much. I contemplated going into the public bathrooms, but we all know that just wasn't going to happen. So I packed up my tools, climbed back in my work truck, and prepared myself for the ninety minutes of hell I was about to face on the ride home. At about the forty-five-minute mark, all time stood still. I was prairie-dogging so hard that I had to sit up off the seat. Then inspiration came to me: my contractor's office was right down the road. He would be the only one in the office at this time of the day. I could roll in there, break one off, and then blissfully head home. I pulled into his parking lot like a madman. I RAN in the office, pointed at the bathroom, and yanked my pants off all in one motion. I'm sure I was naked for at least one second as I was running to the bathroom. But I was moving so quick I doubt anyone would have noticed. I plopped my aching body down and prayed for God to make it quick. But God would have other ideas for me on this weary day. The turd began to crest my bung, and I knew things weren't going to be easy. I reached maximum dilation -- and then nothing more was moving. I had a square peg trying to fit through a round hole. I knew what was to happen next. I had even read about it on PoopReport before. I was to perform the dirtiest of the dirty, something of which we never speak. It was time for a manual disimpaction. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper, reached up where the sun don't shine, and tried to yank that fucker out. All I got a few globules of doodie on the paper and some shivers in my spine. This grogan wasn't going to come out easily. I looked up into the heavens and said a prayer. "Please, God, please let this doot come out of my butt easily. Please don't make me stick my fingers in my ass to get it out. I promise I will back to church and donate to the poor. Amen." The clap of thunder and flickering lights made me realize that God wanted no part of the demon that had possessed my anus. I was on my own. I threw some holy water over my shoulder and went to work on kraken in my cracken. I decided it was going to take some drastic measure to rid this beast from my nether-regions. I quickly scanned the room for some type of implement to help with this exorcism. There was a plunger and a coat hanger, neither of which I felt comfortable sticking in my ass. I don't think I would have been comfortable sticking a Q-tip up my ass. But drastic times call for drastic measures! And as my grandfather would have said, "It's live or die, you bastard!" It was time for the reckoning. I decided to try and push it out, instead of going for the manual disimpation. I figured the greasy slice of pizza I had eaten earlier in the day would hopefully lubricate the trap a little bit and maybe make this big bastard slide out a bit easier. I grabbed hold of the sink with my left hand and the handicrapper rail with my right. I put one foot up on the garbage can and the other I cocked back like I was kicking a field goal. And then I pushed. I pushed like so many mothers had pushed before me. Millimeter by excruciating millimeter, the offending demon slowly moved. After about ten minutes of some of the worst pain I have ever felt, I had nearly half of the beast out of my anus. I gave one last mighty push and then it broke lose and fell to its watery death. I collapsed in pain on the toilet and laid there, a broken man. My anus was so destroyed that it puckered and pulsed like it was trying to dry heave. I'm sure if I had tried to fart at that time, it wouldn't have even made a sound. After a few minutes of collecting myself, I arose from my now-debauched thrown to look at the baby I had just birthed. It was monstrous, to say the least. I know people on this site go to great lengths trying to describe the sheer magnitude of their poop. I will just say it as simply as possible: it was large enough to choke a donkey. My only saving grace was that I was in a commercial bathroom that could hopefully take down a monstrous log such as this one. It took three flushes to rid this world of my colon creature. My bunghole will never be the same. It took me nearly a week to get back to regular shitting. Sitting down was a nightmare. But on the bight side, I did lose ten pound in one day. Post new comment
|
Ad 1
Ad 2
Text Ads
Recent comments
Who's onlineThere are currently 0 users and 376 guests online.
GoDaddyThong ad Highest Users
Browse content by author View some statistics Learn more about userpoints |
