My First Shameless Shit
One day at work in the spring of 2001, I somehow stumbled upon PoopReport. What intrigued me the most about this website were the tales of people like me -- people who disliked or even had a fear of dropping a load in a public place, and what they'd do to avoid it. I started submitting my own stories, eventually coining the now popular expressions "Shameful Shitting" and "Shameless Shitting." I wrote analyses of my discoveries and experiences as a Shameful Shitter, and the great lengths I'd go to not shit where anyone else could see, hear, or smell me.
It has been a real rollercoaster ride over the last three-and-a-half years as I've worked to become a successful Shameless Shitter. I've made some progress and had a few false starts -- but now I believe I may have finally succeeded. If you remember my last story, you will recall that I froze about a pound of the hot toxic chili that I made in early August. I am proud to credit this container of meat, peppers, and beans as the catalyst that enabled me to cross over to the ranks of the Shameless.
I started a high-fiber diet in late August -- oatmeal, salads, vegetables, fruits, and very little meat. If I do eat meat, it's usually chicken or turkey. So lately it's seemed that whenever I eat red meat, primarily ground beef, my digestive system goes haywire. During opening day of the NFL season, for instance, I went to a bar and ate tacos; for this I received stomach cramps, raunchy gas, and screaming diarrhea for twenty-four hours.
In spite of my diet, I'm not one to waste food, so I decided on Friday night to heat up that pound of frozen chili for dinner. Of course I chugged many beers beforehand, and I didn't end up eating dinner until nearly 9:00. The chili was brutally spicy. It cleared my sinuses and made my eyes water and my body sweat. I chowed it all down and soon passed out in front of the TV.
The next morning we had plans to go shopping at Sam's Club. I started the day with some coffee and took a shit; it was an unimpressive little load and not really too hot. The wife and daughter wanted to stop at Denny's for breakfast before shopping, so I skipped my morning oatmeal and off we went.
I can maintain my diet properly if I am eating at home, but when I go to a restaurant and I am paying for someone else to cook my food, serve it to me and clean my mess, I am going to eat a decent meal. No way am I going to sit and eat a bowl of oatmeal at Denny's. So I drank some more coffee and had a breakfast of two eggs, two sausages, two bacon strips, rye toast and a bowl of grits.
After yet another cup of coffee, we decided to head out. A few minutes on the road and the coffee kickstarted my bowels, giving me a sudden urge to purge. I let off a few nasty hot chili farts and laughed as my wife and daughter cursed me.
Soon the fun would be over. About a mile before our destination I started feeling real queasy. I slipped into a state of panic and confusion -- I needed a toilet NOW. Home was too far back. I considered flooring my SUV to my parent's house just a few miles down the road. I told my wife of my dilemma, and she told me to just shit at Sam's Club.
I decided to try her idea, and kept heading in that direction. I felt intense heat in my rectum -- the chili was coming fast. I got stuck at a very long red light and started to sweat, panic and squirm... I was going to shit my pants.
After what seemed like an hour at that fucking red light, I pulled into a Burger King. I ran from my vehicle into the Burger King men's room to find some fool inside taking a piss. I didn't care. I entered the stall and was greeted by a seat dirty with traces of piss and pubic hair.
I ripped down my shorts and hovered over the bowl as I blasted hot rotten chili diarrhea into the toilet. It was a loud eruption as it splattered into the water but I didn't give a fuck what that urinator was thinking. I took several deep breaths, trying to stop myself from puking up my breakfast; my stomach was killing me. Deep breathing that toxic chili stench was a rough road to take.
I managed to hold down my breakfast as I wiped my poor red-hot starfish. We got our shopping done, and that afternoon at home I pissed out at least three more blasts of chili from my asshole.
I don't know if I will be a Shameless Shitter in the future, but I must admit that after doing it once, the fear isn't as strong. My fear of eating ground beef is by far worse!