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 One Second Too LatePosted 01.24.2005 by Shypoo (32)
As you may or may not know, I am a Shameful Shitter. I have enjoyed PoopReport for about a year, but have just recently become a registered user. I only have one good poop story, and I hadn't planned on sharing it; but I envy you Shameless ones, and I hope that I can overcome the shame with PoopReport's support.
I was about fourteen years old. OK, fine, I was fifteen -- yes, I am ashamed to say it was only two years ago. My family and I were returning from visiting my grandmother in Maryland -- my mother, my father, my three brothers, my cousin and I all crammed into a minivan. The reason for the extra person was that it was our duty to return my cousin to the United States Merchant Marine Academy on the way to our house on suburban Long Island. As a farewell to my dear cousin, we decided to stop at Benihana, a Japanese restaurant where they make the food right in front of you. I am not a fan of eating out, but my family raves about this place and I really had no other option. We had a nice meal together, but I made the fatal error of eating shrimp. I swear to this day that the shrimp was to blame. We exited the restaurant. Just as we pulled up to the Academy, I felt a rumble in the jungle. However, we were about forty-five minutes from our house, and I've never had a problem in the past; so I decided to risk it. We hit the highway again and suddenly I sensed that all was not well. I was in pain, and somehow I knew that this is no ordinary turd. All of my brothers were asleep, and I was in the back seat, so I had to sort of yell up to my parents in the front that I needed to use the restroom. The response: "Oh Shypoo, can't you hold it? We are close to home and really tired, and we don't want to stop." Being the wonderful daughter I am, I decided to tough it out. A few minutes later, traffic slowed to a crawl. I began to sweat in the back seat. A half-hour later, I was in crisis mode. We had already come too far to pull over now. Good thing I had a well-conditioned sphincter, because it was getting a real work out. Every ten or fifteen minutes my intestines assaulted my asshole, but I refused to budge. No way was I going to poo in front of my family. Finally we pulled into our driveway. I had gone from warning to core meltdown. I had assessed the bathroom situation during the trip and decided to go for the upstairs bathroom as opposed to the downstairs, because I am Shameful even in front of my family. This was a risky maneuver, considering the needle on the danger scale was close to snapping off. I ran up the stairs, clutching my ass because I knew the dam was about to burst. I hadn't shit my pants since I wore diapers and I damn well wasn't going to break that streak. I reached the bathroom, panting from the effort. I was about to pull down my pants when I realized that I didn't lock the door that opened to my brothers' room (we share a bathroom between our rooms). I reached out to lock the door and WOOOSH -- the dam finally succumbed to the pressure. Yep, I had shit my pants. Although it wasn't shit, as I had suspected in the car. I locked the door and began to survey the damage. Luckily I was wearing my stretch pants -- my friend and I dub them suction pants because they cling to your ass and thighs -- and they contained the fudge bunnies for the time being. I slowly discarded the pants and sat on the bowl; no damage done. My underwear must have been part rubber. Now I had the daunting task of removing my underwear. I decided that I should do it like a Band-Aid -- quickly, and in one shot. I jumped up from the bowl, dropped them, and then sat back down to avoid dripping down my leg. There must have been a good quart of the Hershey squirts in my underwear. I tossed the underwear into the garbage (plastic lined, by the grace of God) and cleaned up my sore ass. Hot in, hot out, as my father says. I then proceeded to Lysol the floor to sanitize the little dollops that had escaped. I freshened the air and exited with pants and garbage bag in tow, my family none the wiser. -- Shypoo Post new comment
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