I usually poop two or three times a day. But for the last few days... nothing. Far be it for me to take a laxative or change my diet -- I continued my usual intake of copious amounts of protein (usually in the form of chicken or beef); the occasional snack of junk food; and roughage. Having taken two economics classes already, I knew that something had to give soon: my supply curve was way up, but my demand to poop was way below equilibrium.
Suddenly, I felt it. As I sat there on the couch, something within me began to stir, like a massive monolith shifting within my rectal Stonehenge. Salvation! I knew that this would be my manna after spending many days wandering the desert of constipation. I completely removed all shorts and undergarments so that I could spread the ol' cheeks as wide as possible, and sat on the toilet. As I began to push, I felt its awe-inspiring presence within my colon... falling... moving toward my sphincter... and then stopping mere centimeters short of freedom.
My bung was wide open and contracting, not unlike the mouth of a large carp feeding on a lake bottom. The end of my log must have dried out significantly in the few days it festered within me, because at that point it felt like I had a granola bar the size of a brick stuck inside of my rectum. Or maybe a bolus of thumbtacks, toothpicks, and fiberglass shingle.
Either way, as I continued to push, the monster inched closer and closer to daylight. By now I was dripping sweat and had a white-knuckle grip on the sink and counter next to me. Without warning, a good three inches of gigantic turd poked out of my cornhole.
It was unbelievably big. But as I continued to grunt and push, it only got bigger. I began to utter a sorrowful, timeless sound -- a plaintive bellow of pure suffering that came from the most primal labyrinths of my pain-wracked body. Suddenly my fecal infant crowned, and the rest of him slid effortlessly out of my manwomb, leaving a very battered, torn, and dilated anus in his wake. I wiped; there was very little stool to clean off, and, surprisingly, no blood or chunks of gut.
I turned around to look at the fruit of my labor. It was truly a thing of beauty; it brought a tear to my already watering eyes. It was around eight inches long, but extremely girthy. The front part that had shredded me looked very dark and crispy, with little sharp bits of what appeared to be popcorn shells. In retrospect, I can only say that I continue to feel like a modern-day Prometheus, who discovered the forbidden knowledge of what it feels like for a man to give birth.
-- Carlos [1]