So I was making dinner lastnight, and I had to shit real bad. It was very difficult to hold in. However, I really didn't want to do it. The thought of pooping then grilling up some tasty pork chops grossed me out a bit. I had every intention of washing my hands, and I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn't so it. Luckily I held the shit in until I was done cooking and eating. After about 15 minutes of holding the urge to shit usually goes away for a couple hours.

As far as the poll goes, yes, I know, there are probably a trillion more options. But I prefer to keep it to five.

sorry for being critical of your last poll, they always have a good variety of options and choices. i went for the business meeting, because then there's the added pressure and stress, ugh.

I voted medical procedure. There's just something about turtleheading when a doctor's face is right in your crotch that makes all the other options seem like small potatoes.

i voted sex/foreplay but i wish there would have been a choice for shopping. seems like i ALWAYS have to go when i shop. groceries, books, make up, clothes,...

I chose the sex option also. The fear has arisen when the prostate is being tickled. Being stuck in traffic is a big one, because you have no recourse.
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Sir SamDamnit!
The Emir of Crapistan

The one about speeding because you have to poop bad is funny, and true! I've done that before and barely made it home in time to fire a cannon shot into the bowl!

Another bad one is when you're waiting for the subway at 2 AM. You've got no options -- the only places that are open are places where you wouldn't want to poop -- and you know you've got at least twenty minutes until the train comes, another 30 minutes to get to your stop, and then a four-block hike on top of it all.

What did you doo, Dave?
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Sir SamDamnit!
The Emir of Crapistan

Some people enjoy being shat on whilst having sex, not me, but some people. We call it a Cleveland Steamer.
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I love ice cream and cheese, but they don't love me back.

You ask as if it was a single incident. It's not -- it's a reoccuring story. And I'm pleased to say I've made it every single time.

I used to live up a hill from the subway. I have distinct memories of a steep hill, sub-zero weather, and running as fast as I can up the hill because if I walked I would have pooped myself.

Memories, plural.

You didn't put my worst nightmare up here: having to take a crap right before a final exam. My intestinal tract gets irritable if I jump out of bed and eat too soon afterward. Therefore, contrary to popular recommendations, I generally DO NOT eat breakfast on test days. Either that, or I get up very early, lounge around to give my GI tract time to wake up, and eat a small breakfast, leaving ample time for a poo before the test.

You know, it may kill the mood, but it gives a couple something to laugh about later. lol.

Christmas cantata - our church, 1986. I had a solo, and was very nervous about it. On the stage in the auditorium shortly after the program begun, I felt the first distant rumblings of bowel thunder in the distance. Low, ominous - portentious of a great storm brewing. No problem, though - I have had the nervous stomach thing before. I could wait it out. After the first song a mighty south wind began to blow. Repeatedly. It smelled like a cross between rotten eggs, carrion, and pure evil. Try as I might, my quivering pucker valve could not restrain the rising wind. I noticed to my chagrin that the noses of my nearest co-performers were beginning to wrinkle in disgust, yet the putrid zephyrs relentlessly sallied forth from the cave of the winds. About fifteen minutes into the program the wrenching fist of fecal fury began to twist my tortured innards. I felt like I was in labor on steroids. The pain was incredible - I was trying to sing like an angel, but simply standing straight took everything I had. And the foul fetid winds of wrath continued to blow. My solo was coming up, and I no longer was in church. I was in a hell of ceaseless torment, and there were twenty minutes of program left. Finally, it was my turn to sing - I gripped the microphone as though it were the cause of my agony. Then it happened. My sweaty palms lost their tentative grasp on the microphone, and it fell to the floor with a reverbrating crash. I could feel my face twist in pain, as I gingerly bent over to pick up the fallen mike. I grasped it, and started to straighten back up, when a lower abdominal spasm of 10.9 on the Richter scale grasped my intestines in a fit of rage. I don't clearly recall the events that ensued, but one of my (now former)friends told me later what followed in awful detail.
I apparently said, "Oh!" and the dam burst. With a sound like the ripping of a great sheet my bowels loosed their pent up fury. A hot greasy yellowish-brown flood of liquid excrement ran through my underwear, pantyhose, slip, skirt and robe with the force of a hurricane. And it kept coming. We were wearing the white satin choir robes, and most of the ladies were wearing white shoes. At least they were white when we ascended the stage. I apparently opened my mouth, and a flood of vitriolic bile issued forth like a firehose. I barfed on the poor girl ahead of me, who immediately began to retch violently. Someone had the presence of mind to close the stage curtains and inform the audience that illness had unexpectedly struck. I was never more mortified (or sick) in my life. The only thing that helped ease my shame was that later we found out that the chicken salad sandwiches we had eaten before the cantata were plastered with salmonella. Several others were afflicted as I was, but not so publicly. My anxiety must have hastened the onset of diarrhea and vomiting.
Needless to say, I no longer attend that church. My husband and I have moved (unrelated to this event), and I no longer hear from the recipients of my explosive bowel problems. I can think of no more inopportune time for the need to defecate to hit.

Droppin Logs, you should register and submit that to Dave. That's a first class front page story there.
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Yes, those are my brown spots. Yes, those are your walls.

"the putrid zephyrs relentlessly sallied forth from the cave of the winds" - Pooetry, sheer pooetry. I'd have given money to watch that whole scenario unfold. DL, you are one funny lady.

Yeah, Droppin, maybe Dave can move this to a story slot. Of course, then someone would have to do a little housekeeping and delete these few comments, but that's easy enough.
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GottaGoGottaGoGottaGoRightNow!

I too think that story is worthy of its own page. It's really awesome! I remember being in a choir and how nervous I was; that must have only worsened it for you. I'm glad you got away from all of that, and that there were curtains to close! My choir had no curtains.

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Around here, our women poop, and it stinks too.

I'll definetly post it. Unfortunately the author didn't provide an email address, so this one will be for the ages unless someone claims it. I'll wait a week or two so y'all forget about it and it's fresh once again.

Wow, I hope droppin logs comes back and gives more. The imagery and description is great.

I can't believe you stayed up there while going through that kind of pain.

I predict that one of the firsts posts following this story, when it gets a front page slot, will be from a certain lovable character we all know and will go something like this:

This story is gross and couldn't possibly be true. Women don't shit.

FP - you forgot to add "this story would give doniker wood".

I am a virgin, but out of all of the choices, having to go while making love sounds pretty humiliating.

"Women don't shit."

No, they excrete perfume, wine, and compliments. ;)

I picked the sex option. There have been a couple of gross stories on PR involving shit and sex. This just flat grosses me out. Sort of like farting during sex and having the bubbles rattle off his ball sack. Majorly kills the mood!

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"That was a very disappointing party. I showed up and everyone left!"- Camille

I chose business meeting. if you go to the bathroom, you may miss important details. If you wait to go, you can't concentrate on what is being said in the meeting
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Jammin' lo'flo's since 1977.

That happens to be the best poop story I've ever heard/read... and I've came across some good'uns!

Really? Do tell.

I can invariably hold my poops as long as necessary, so I voted the medical option - poking around down there might diminish the ability to control!

Another inopportune time is while you're eating a giant burrito/anything else you need your hands for.

Do you rush through the burrito and not enjoy it? Do you take your poop and let the burrito get cold? Or do you eat the burrito while you poop?

I chose the job interview/business meeting; that has happened to me a few times. I have always been able to hold it, but I have had the experience of being unable to concentrate on anything but keeping my anus shut.

How about while giving a lecture?
One of my prof's told us "I had dinner last night at **** restaurant, and it didn't agree with me. If I have to leave the room, please remain in your seats and continue to read the chapter. You may discuss it quietly until I return."
She was in the room for about 20 minutes of a 60 minutes class.
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You have the right to remain Silent but Deadly....

During sex would be a bad time to poop for most of us, however; I once had a supervisor who had married a woman considerably younger than he was, he came to work one day beaming with obvious pride. Turns out his wife had shit during sex the previous night, rather than being disgusted he said, "talk about fucking the shit out of someone."

When I was a young man I was in a room at the famous Maxwell House Hotel in Nashville with a lady of questionable moral character (my favorite female characteristic at the time). We were getting it on passionately when I noticed that my balls were suddenly enveloped in warmth. I didn't realize what it was until the pinto
bean, turnip greens and raw onion fart reached my nostrils.

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Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

I should have added to my comment above that the evening I mentioned would have been a disastrous time to have decided on dining at the Y.

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Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

By "questionable moral character" you mean she's been plowed more times than a Buffalo parking lot in January?

When she was in the Far East she only slept with two guys, the 5th Air Force and the 7th Fleet.

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Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

I didn't vote. As;
"Shitting yourself in the middle of the night after a drinking binge, whilst lying asleep on your new girlfriends mothers couch, only to be woken at 8a.m. by said Mormon-esq bible bashing, potential mother-in-law, standing over you with a skillet in one hand and a husband in the other, stating that she see's you have already had your breakfast, and, would you like some more?"
was not an available choice.

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Did I just fart?.... Oh shit! NO!!

You should have said, "just fry me up some eggs you old hag. I've already got the sausage"

PD........I believe the Britts refer to it as a "banger" rather than a sausage. Somehow that seems more appropriate.

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Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

Ausies apparently call them 'snags', dunno what thats all about.

... oh! hang on, (I you dare) snags are bangers, not turds. google 'eric bogle wogs lyrics'

G'Day!

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Did I just fart?.... Oh shit! NO!!

oops, my bad!

Aussie Barbecue

by the same guy

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Did I just fart?.... Oh shit! NO!!

Goddammit!

http://www.smartlyrics.com/Song98223-Bogle-Eric-Aussie-Barbeque-lyrics.aspx

Its funny! (duh! after all that... is it really worth it?)

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Did I just fart?.... Oh shit! NO!!

nope.
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The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough.

Pants on fire Bilge!

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Did I just fart?.... Oh shit! NO!!

You mean "fry me up some eggs you old hag. I already got to bang her."

I'm surprised nobody picked their wedding. The night before I got married, i went out bar hopping with my best man and got hammered.

The next day, while standing at the altar waiting for my bride to walk down the aisle, I kept getting these gurgling noises from my gut telling me you'd better get your ass to the shitter real quick.

Luckily I was able to hold off and everything went off as planned.

I don't remember much after that as my new wife and I both got blasted at the reception.

But I'm pretty sure I shit sometimes later that night.

But everything must have worked out, as we just celebrated our 26th anniversary.

I just realized, that as my wife was about to deliver my first child, I had a tremendous urge to go. It must have been nerves and I was able to hold it. It was also friday the 13th and a full moon, so I guess I was scared at what might have popped out.

Oh, and Postman that was 26 years ago also.

AWWWWWW! Lets all get sent-im-mental already!_______
Did I just fart?.... Oh shit! NO!!

All right, here's another one, personal and immediate. Today is the first day of school. I have four classes back-to-back, no breaks except the 3-minute ones between. My first class is 25 rambunctious 9th- and 10th-graders, and I've been sort of nervous about it all week--just how nervous, I didn't find out till this morning. I had a reasonable b.m. this morning right after breakfast and hoped that would be it until after school. At 6:15 I was ready to go (so as to have some time in the room before students came), felt faint pressure down below but thought nothing of it--I'd already gone, you see. Got on the road, and the feeling got stronger, together with a sort of low-grade unease and sweatiness around the gluteal cleft (butt-crack). This is a half-hour trip, and it was soon very obvious that I should have waited 5 minutes and pooped at home. The urge came in waves, each stronger than the last. I won't recount them all, but the last one, as I drove into the parking lot, was so strong that--no, I didn't shart, there was no gas with this at all--I felt my anus leak! A little bit of warm wetness had definitely broken through--first time I can remember that in many years. A return of IBS? I wondered. Locking my car, I felt another tiny spurt as I stood up. I stood absolutely still for a moment, waiting for my bowels to settle down. They didn't, so I walked as fast as I dared, across the street, to the locked door, took an eternal second to unlock it, walked down the hall feeling faintly wet between my cheeks, went into the boys' bathroom, dropped my bags and my jacket onto the floor, did not bother with the door to the stall, and sat. PHLOOSH! and then, 30 seconds later, another shot; finally, a minute later, a third shot. I had been clenching my jaw the last two-thirds of the trip, so I relaxed it, wiped myself, flushed, washed hands (you betcha!), and walked up to my classroom, feeling faint. I did check my underpants--nothing. Thank goodness for butt cheeks! They must have just enough lift to protect my hapless undies. I got myself set up in the classroom, started to write on the board--and felt the urge again. Again, this time to the upstairs bathroom, on the seat for a brief but potent blast, the wipe, the handwash, and back to the room. Ten minutes later, another urge! This one was minuscule--had to go but dropped only a couple of little sniglets. By now I was thinking, This is not IBS, this is just nerves before class. I had thought about going home, but rejected it. First day of school--I need to be there. Sure enough, once I saw the students, symptoms disappeared, and I was fine. Weak and sick early on, but all OK now. I was thinking, though, how much more inconvenient a time could it have picked? As far as I know, no one knows I had any trouble.

I think the last one is a blessing!

Once while on an African safari, I was being pursued by a rabid pack of wild dogs through a huge bramble patch when the urge to take a shit came upon me. It was
at a most inopportune time.

Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

I'm sure the rabid wild dogs backed off.

The worst time to have to poop is when someone else is on the only toilet in the joint.
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...And their flesh like dung. Zeph. 1:17

Well, not unless you're bigger than they are.

PD.......Yes they backed off, while whimpering like puppies.

Eat chilies and feel the burn!!

I was at the mall with my 9-year-old daughter this summer. We were standing in a line for Dairy Queen at the food court behind a girl who I think was about 12 because she had a middle school shirt on. Although she's alone in the line, she gets at least three calls from friends who must be running late or in another wing of the mall. Finally, after about 5 minutes, she's at the front of the line and she orders some type of large dip cone. While it's being prepared, her ring-tone goes off and she urges the caller to hurry over to the food court to help her because she's just realized she's ordered an ice cream cone "and like I'm going to have to crap as soon as I pay for it!"

My daughter ordered her cone and I ordered a shake. We found places to sit in the seating area and I excused myself since the restroom sign reminded me that this was a good time for me to get rid of my coffee from about four hours earlier. It was a two-staller and I quickly took the second stall because I noticed with some curiosity that the first was in use but the door was ajar and partially open to the extent that I could see that somebody was on the toilet, that there was talking and a lot of movement.

Before I got my pee flow started I was able to make the connection. This girl was juggling her ice cream cone, a cell phone conversation and at the same time, trying to pull her shorts and underwear down to crap. Finally one of her friends comes running in, tries to manage the cone which was running pretty bad (judging from what I could see on the floor by the partition) and told another one of the callers that she would get back to them because she was just about ready to crap her pants. Within seconds, the shorts and underwear dropped to the floor and you could hear the sigh of relief as the demon came out and hit the water. "That's like I think 4 days worth of shit," the girl told her friend. The reply was, "It sounded like a ******* truck."

The girls were still in the stall when I flushed and left. I normally prefer as much quiet as possible in public bathrooms. But this, I must admit, I did find to be ... amusing.

My husband, on our 1 year aniversary, decided to take me hunting, which I love. So, after we caught our game, I felt the uncontrolable urge to vomit, to which I could not supress. OK, no big deal. Sometimes people get excited....And then it happened. A low rumble in my abdomen that was the beginning of sorrows. I let out a fart with a smell that has never crossed my nostrills prior or since that night. It smelled as if the winds of death had just come out of my nether region. I was horrified, and praying that my husband would not get a whiff, since him being only a few yards away. And then the wind shifted and he turned to me, and I knew he knew. There was no denying it. Yes, that smell did just come from his wife!

Another rumble. But this time, I could not tell if it would be a fart or something more sinister. I told him we had to go home, and he knew not to argue. He jumped in the truck and sped as fast a he could go down the country road to hurry me to the restroom. t

I am a firm believer that there comes a time in every poo where there is a point of no return, no matter how bad we don't want it to come out--it will. Needless to say I reached that point.....about halfway home. So I made him pull over and opened the passenger door, hung my rear out, dropped my pants and just let it go. I will never forget the look on my poor husband's face. It went from shock (to see is relatively new bride with her rear hanging over the ditch) to the involuntary reaction one gets from smelling the worst thing they've ever smelled comming out of a person. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night expelling contents from my stomach and bowels.

Yes, I've had diarrhea. And I've done it in a ditch without any privacy, infront of the one whom I love the most. Pride left me that night the same way my bowels did. I had no control, and therefore, no shame.