In junior high, the 8th grade class had an annual camping trip, which had happened every year since the Quakers started the school. It was a week-long trip to Camp Chewonki [1] that involved obstacle courses, tents, spam, granola, ticks, hiking, trying to see the naked breasts of the girl in the class with the 'big boobs', and stupid games which were intended to teach us teamwork (a practice often ignored in the adult world).

An incident on the way to the bus which took us there should have served as a foreshadowing of the peril that awaited me at Chewonki. My mother and I were at an intersection and she had her coffee on the dash. When the light went from stop to go, the acceleration of the car tipped the mug and emptied its contents all over my crotch, leaving me with a piss yellow stain for the duration of the trip.

One of the most trying aspects of the trip was taking a #2, for there were no outhouses or bathrooms in those wretched woods. If one wanted to drop a deuce in those harsh woods, the process involved 6 sheets of TP, a shovel, and a far off tree of your choice. The logistics of actually pinching the loaf were mind-boggling. After finding your tree and digging a small hole for the deposit, you were to pull your pants to your ankles, face the tree, hold onto the trunk with both hands, squat down, and lean back. Hopefully, in this position, the root would drop from your ass straight into the hole without any incident.

Being a man of severe lavatorial snobbery, I was not about to demean myself or my precious load with a dump-inducing contortionist act. And being a man of strong will, I publicly declared that I would not poop until I was in the safe confines of my own chambers. With this, the sphincter-tightening journey began.

During the week, I did everything I was supposed to. Ate nuts and granola, did the obstacle course... heck, I even saw some boobs. But by the final day of the journey, all of those nuts and grain and spam had created an intestinal load that felt like a concrete slab. I woke up that final day and felt as though a turtle head was protruding from my anus. But I fought the urge and prepared for our final task: a scavenger-hunt way way out in the woods which involved buddying up with someone and all of the groups going their separate ways.

Two hours into it, I was in a frenzy. It was as though I had malaria. Cold sweats, tension, bizarre outbursts all pointed to one thing -- I had to crap or die here in these woods. In a panic, I found a tree and tried to follow the protocol for forest crapping, but I had no TP or shovel. My pants were down, the tree trembled in my fists, and the dogs were being let out.

It came out like an endless log. It was never ending. When the first tapered end touched ground, it was still coming out. To give it more room to fall I gently tried to stand up a little more, but it kept coming. Like a brown tail, it connected my ass to the ground, even after I inched my way up to give it more room. Finally, it met its end and began to fall. However, it was so long and solid, like a giant wooden rod, that it fell forward like a newly cut tree, and ended up leaning against my pants.

I shook my pants leg and waistline, and the massive obelisk of crap gently slid sideways down the back of my leg, leaving a skid mark that, due to the way my pants were bunched up, started at my ass and ended at my ankles. So, as the trees laughed and jeered at me, I left the woods and endured hours of psychological torture as the skid mark, probably the biggest ever, clung to my pants until I was safe at home.
-- Jeff [2]