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 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 |
 The Roof Under My AssPosted 08.03.2003 by LittleLoggerGirl (16)
The story took place when I was sixteen. To catch you all up to speed on my pooping habits: I used to poop about once a month. So my shit was huge, and very hard -- typically a foot long and at least three inches in diameter. I could never just shit in the toilet, because it would take nuclear weapons to get rid of.
(I've been doing much better lately -- pooping more, only about the size of a softball, or a bit bigger. I still have to poop in something other than a toilet, though.) And so came the day that I always dreaded: the day my atrocious appendage decided to break free from its bondage and pound on the door to be let out. My shithole is very strong from all the holding in I do, but never strong enough. All night I tried holding down the fort. I usually sat on the heel of my foot as a way to keep the hound at bay. I broke into a sweat and began shaking. I was going to lose this battle, as I always do, so I started frantically thinking of some way to free myself from the tyranny of the turd. My mother was sleeping downstairs, so I couldn't go down there to get a trash bag or anything else that would help easily -- our stairs creak very loudly. I had nothing. I was stuck in my bedroom, about to explode. "The roof," I thought, "I could shit on the roof..." No! That's disgusting! What if the neighbors see me... I didn't want to do it. It was very risky. But it was either that or destroy a toilet. I simply had no choice. I walked over to the window, opened it, took out the bug screens, and laid them on the surface below. Hesitantly, I climbed out, and then hastily walked around a corner, up the little slope and over. Now I was on the downslope of the roof. I went by the little window that was in the hallway. I had almost forgotten that window. I walked a tiny ways past it -- in case someone woke up, they wouldn't see me pooping on the roof. It was nice and cool outside. I lay down on my back, absolutely terrified someone would see me. Lying down made it harder to see me from the house, but anyone driving down the road towards my house would still be able to spot me. So I had to work quickly. Looking back, I realize I was in the true birthing position: lying down with my knees up and legs spread apart. I laugh about it now, but I was scared out of my mind that night. I hadn't taken off my boxers, instead just pulled them down a little, enough to expose my release hatch. So I had to lift them up at the crotch so the turd wouldn't just breach into my boxers. I gave a mighty, hard, gut-mashing push. Naturally, nothing. I tried again, but it felt as though someone cut the blue wire and the bomb had defused -- it was because I was so frightened of being caught. I took a deeeeep breath and tried again. I peed. I watched my little river slowly trickle down the roof, into the gutter. It felt good, but certainly not what I wanted. Cursing to myself, I pushed so hard I thought my guts would accompany the beast out of me. Then the baby titan turd poked its head out and said hello to the world. I remembered to breathe, and gave it some little pushes to keep it where it was while I gathered myself. Now, as it turned out, things were going to get interesting. I'm used to squatting or sitting, or maybe even standing slightly. Regardless, the turd usually meets gravity and falls to its new home. But lying, there is no fall. I discovered this when the tip of the turd stuck to the roof. I had to lift myself a bit off the roof, and push myself backward while I laid the brick down in front. I peed a bit more with all the immense pushing I was doing, and it lubricated my ass so the foot-long devil dung slid out with more ease. I scooted backward, pulled my boxers up faster than a frightened deer -- there was no need to wipe because the pee dried and huge hard turds never leave any skids -- and made it back into my bedroom window like a jackrabbit. I walked to the top of the stairs; to my relief, my mother was still happily snoring away. I went to the bathroom, wiped up anyway, and collapsed onto my bed. End of story? Not quite, seeing as my handiwork remained on the roof. I became frightened again as I climbed on top of the hamper at the end of our hall and pressed my face against the glass to see my creation. I worried someone might see it, but I relaxed, knowing no one would notice it if they simply looked out. A few weeks later I came by to check up on my brick. There it was. It seemed to have become a stone gargoyle on our house. It was black at night, and no doubt probably hard as rock. I shrugged, and forgot about it entirely. Until, that is, a violent windstorm came upon our town. The next morning, my family piled into the car and backed into the driveway. I saw with horror that the titan turd had been pried by the wind from its fixed spot and had hit the driveway. Fortunately, it looked like black dirt, so no one really noticed. It eventually disappeared on its own, and I was never found out. Needless to say, I never pooped on our roof again. Post new comment
|
Ad 1
Ad 2
Text Ads
Recent comments
Who's onlineThere are currently 1 user and 846 guests online.
Online users:Thong ad Highest Users
Browse content by author View some statistics Learn more about userpoints |
