Came close once, but my cheeks hit the toilet seat the moment the fury started.
This near miss happened back in 2003 after I got married. My wife was on active duty with the military and we would meet half way between Atlanta and Augusta in Milton. They had a Zaxby's and I made the mistake of getting hot sauce on my wings (which already are impregnated with enough peanut oil to shoot through your system pretty quickly). Well, after spending an hour, or so, walking around downtown Milton with wife, I felt a rumble. At that point I figured it was time to go, so I reached the car, and knew I had about 90 minutes of driving to reach my door. At first, no problem, the distress was pretty high in my system. After about 30 minutes of driving, though, my ass was clenched like a vise for fear I would literally shit in my pants. I dared not stop anywhere along the trip, because I could tell that I was only going to be able to muster ONE attempt at getting out of the car, and I knew deep down that the next time I sat down, out it would come. Well, I sweat it out with my foot to the floor for the next hour...and FINALLY get home. Literally, I've lost over a pint of sweat by this time and I knew I had SECONDS to reach my goal.
As soon as the car was parked, I burst through the door of the house and made it the 15 feet to the downstairs bathroom with no time to spare.
That was the closest call I have ever had in this regard, and to this day have managed to never shit my pants
So years ago, I took a drive with my girlfriend at the time, now my wife, and 2 friends to visit some friends in San Angelo TX, about 1000 miles away.. well on the day of the trip, I had bad diarrhea... BAD I tell you.. well I take some Imodium, and I feel okay so we leave.. highlight below if you must!
12 hours in the drive, we leave Dallas- Ft. Worth, and hit nothing. I mean there wasn't anything around, and I needed to go, I needed to go NOW!! so I pulled into a gas station, well it was closed, I was pissed, I was about to shit behind the store when I cop pulled up, so I left, about the time I was back on the interstate I exploded in my pants... there was poop running up my back, down my legs, IT WAS TERRIBLE!! So I go to the next exit, and pull off behind some random building to remove all of my clothes! EVERYTHING... I noticed that it felt like something was stinging me, but I thought it was a weed or something, well while finishing to excrete the nasty poo poo from my insides, and cleaning myself off with bottled water and some paper towels, I was bitten over 100 times by Red Fire Ants..
Everyone in the car got a whiff at some point and they were all about to puke from the smell..
It was horrible.. the worst smell ever..
Saddest part was in all the clothes I threw on the ground and left was all of the gas money for the trip, and I didn't notice until an hour later, had to drive back and with protective grocery sacks on my hands sift thru shitty clothes for $200..
It was the worst experience ever.. 3 days later on the return home drive, I started swelling up, I had to go to the doctor as soon as we were back in town... I still have a few scars from the Fire ANTS!
Came close once, but my cheeks hit the toilet seat the moment the fury started.
This near miss happened back in 2003 after I got married. My wife was on active duty with the military and we would meet half way between Atlanta and Augusta in Milton. They had a Zaxby's and I made the mistake of getting hot sauce on my wings (which already are impregnated with enough peanut oil to shoot through your system pretty quickly). Well, after spending an hour, or so, walking around downtown Milton with wife, I felt a rumble. At that point I figured it was time to go, so I reached the car, and knew I had about 90 minutes of driving to reach my door. At first, no problem, the distress was pretty high in my system. After about 30 minutes of driving, though, my ass was clenched like a vise for fear I would literally shit in my pants. I dared not stop anywhere along the trip, because I could tell that I was only going to be able to muster ONE attempt at getting out of the car, and I knew deep down that the next time I sat down, out it would come. Well, I sweat it out with my foot to the floor for the next hour...and FINALLY get home. Literally, I've lost over a pint of sweat by this time and I knew I had SECONDS to reach my goal.
As soon as the car was parked, I burst through the door of the house and made it the 15 feet to the downstairs bathroom with no time to spare.
That was the closest call I have ever had in this regard, and to this day have managed to never shit my pants
Lol, that was a very compelling story. Reminds me of that one Tucker Max story when he shits in his pants.
Wow Paul. I feel bad for you. That just sounds all around embarassing.
I had one moment when I was in college. I took the El train downtown. then would walk about 1 mile to school. So, I felt the rumbles on the train, knew I had to go. I made it to the street, and was walking to class. And i had to go, bad, RIGHT now. So bad, that i was doing this strange walk, I probably looked like a Trex. And i was sweating like crazy. well, i couldn't quite make it to my building. And nowhere in downtown chicago can you use a bathroom without being a customer. nowhere. so, I busted in some place. asked where the bathroom was and went. sweat dripping off my face probably got me a free pass to use it. But I really considered pulling down my pants in downtown chicago and letting her rip all over the street, in front of everyone. I was seriously close to doing so.
Wow, well I certainly can't top Paul's story, and I have never actually crapped in my pants but I came really close to it one time.
I was living/studying in Venezuela last summer and was having hell adjusting to the food. My host mother would usually make something delicious for lunch and leave it out on the stove for the rest of the day, and dinner is not a big deal down there, so it would just be the leftovers that had been sitting on the stove all day. I had pleaded with her to just put them in the fridge after lunch, but she insisted that anything she cooked would stay good left out of the fridge for at least a day, but that wasn't the case for me. My gringo stomach couldn't handle it, and I had diarrhea for weeks. So one weekend, my friend and I decide to go up the longest and highest cable car system in the world that was quite literally at our doorstep and then hike around in the Andes for a day. I had had a pretty bad rash of diarrhea for the last few days, but was undeterred because I had terrible diarrhea a few weeks earlier before going on a wildlife safari also in the middle of nowhere with no incidents. I took a bunch of Imodium and figured that would be enough to plug myself up. Finally, we get to the top of the cable car and began to descend into sheer nothingness. We had plans to find this remote village of no more than 100 people MILES away and spend the night there. I had been feeling fine, and I don't know if it was the thin air, the physical activity, the Imodium waring off, or a combination of all the above, but my stomach began to churn with unbearable pain. I had to stop every so often to let the pain work its way through, and continued on for a good long distance. However, the pain became so intolerable I had to do something. I dropped my pants, squatted over, and let loose a flowing stream of dookie, and it was such a strain on me that it made me vomit which got all over my hiking boots, with pink chunks of the Pepto-bismol I had swallowed earlier in an attempt to douse the flames of my pain everywhere. Thankfully there was not another soul around for miles to see this, as I had told my friend to go around the next bend and wait for me there. Fortunately, I had packed some Charmin wet wipes for the trip, and they literally saved my ass. I felt 100% better after that incident (at least physically) and we marched on to the village with a massive pile of puke, runny poo, and used moist wipes behind us. Once we got there I was taking off my clothes to rest for the night when I noticed that the entire lower portion of my back had been splattered with dookie, as well as the back of my shirt.
Later that night, I drank a bunch of rum to kill the bacteria in my stomach, and it seemed to do the trick.
Wow Paul. I feel bad for you. That just sounds all around embarassing.
I had one moment when I was in college. I took the El train downtown. then would walk about 1 mile to school. So, I felt the rumbles on the train, knew I had to go. I made it to the street, and was walking to class. And i had to go, bad, RIGHT now. So bad, that i was doing this strange walk, I probably looked like a Trex. And i was sweating like crazy. well, i couldn't quite make it to my building. And nowhere in downtown chicago can you use a bathroom without being a customer. nowhere. so, I busted in some place. asked where the bathroom was and went. sweat dripping off my face probably got me a free pass to use it. But I really considered pulling down my pants in downtown chicago and letting her rip all over the street, in front of everyone. I was seriously close to doing so.
Lmao!!! I had the same feeling as you did in my story, but fortunatley I wasn't in one of the biggest urban centers in America! But you could sneak your way into a bathroom at a McDonald's anywhere, even downtown, or for that matter, any restuarant downtown during the lunch rush, nobody would really notice you or care enough to stop you.
I'm glad you didn't bend over and squat like I had to right in the middle of downtown. In that case, your shit covered pants would be the least of your worries!
Wow, well I certainly can't top Paul's story, and I have never actually crapped in my pants but I came really close to it one time.
I was living/studying in Venezuela last summer and was having hell adjusting to the food. My host mother would usually make something delicious for lunch and leave it out on the stove for the rest of the day, and dinner is not a big deal down there, so it would just be the leftovers that had been sitting on the stove all day. I had pleaded with her to just put them in the fridge after lunch, but she insisted that anything she cooked would stay good left out of the fridge for at least a day, but that wasn't the case for me. My gringo stomach couldn't handle it, and I had diarrhea for weeks. So one weekend, my friend and I decide to go up the longest and highest cable car system in the world that was quite literally at our doorstep and then hike around in the Andes for a day. I had had a pretty bad rash of diarrhea for the last few days, but was undeterred because I had terrible diarrhea a few weeks earlier before going on a wildlife safari also in the middle of nowhere with no incidents. I took a bunch of Imodium and figured that would be enough to plug myself up. Finally, we get to the top of the cable car and began to descend into sheer nothingness. We had plans to find this remote village of no more than 100 people MILES away and spend the night there. I had been feeling fine, and I don't know if it was the thin air, the physical activity, the Imodium waring off, or a combination of all the above, but my stomach began to churn with unbearable pain. I had to stop every so often to let the pain work its way through, and continued on for a good long distance. However, the pain became so intolerable I had to do something. I dropped my pants, squatted over, and let loose a flowing stream of dookie, and it was such a strain on me that it made me vomit which got all over my hiking boots, with pink chunks of the Pepto-bismol I had swallowed earlier in an attempt to douse the flames of my pain everywhere. Thankfully there was not another soul around for miles to see this, as I had told my friend to go around the next bend and wait for me there. Fortunately, I had packed some Charmin wet wipes for the trip, and they literally saved my ass. I felt 100% better after that incident (at least physically) and we marched on to the village with a massive pile of puke, runny poo, and used moist wipes behind us. Once we got there I was taking off my clothes to rest for the night when I noticed that the entire lower portion of my back had been splattered with dookie, as well as the back of my shirt.
Later that night, I drank a bunch of rum to kill the bacteria in my stomach, and it seemed to do the trick.
Comments
This near miss happened back in 2003 after I got married. My wife was on active duty with the military and we would meet half way between Atlanta and Augusta in Milton. They had a Zaxby's and I made the mistake of getting hot sauce on my wings (which already are impregnated with enough peanut oil to shoot through your system pretty quickly). Well, after spending an hour, or so, walking around downtown Milton with wife, I felt a rumble. At that point I figured it was time to go, so I reached the car, and knew I had about 90 minutes of driving to reach my door. At first, no problem, the distress was pretty high in my system. After about 30 minutes of driving, though, my ass was clenched like a vise for fear I would literally shit in my pants. I dared not stop anywhere along the trip, because I could tell that I was only going to be able to muster ONE attempt at getting out of the car, and I knew deep down that the next time I sat down, out it would come. Well, I sweat it out with my foot to the floor for the next hour...and FINALLY get home. Literally, I've lost over a pint of sweat by this time and I knew I had SECONDS to reach my goal.
As soon as the car was parked, I burst through the door of the house and made it the 15 feet to the downstairs bathroom with no time to spare.
That was the closest call I have ever had in this regard, and to this day have managed to never shit my pants
Great poll Batty!!!! I'll answer if everyone wants me to, but it's a nasty nasty nasty story...
Spill it!
Great poll Batty!!!! I'll answer if everyone wants me to, but it's a nasty nasty nasty story...
Spill it!
Do it!
Oh wait wrong story..
So years ago, I took a drive with my girlfriend at the time, now my wife, and 2 friends to visit some friends in San Angelo TX, about 1000 miles away.. well on the day of the trip, I had bad diarrhea... BAD I tell you.. well I take some Imodium, and I feel okay so we leave..
highlight below if you must!
12 hours in the drive, we leave Dallas- Ft. Worth, and hit nothing. I mean there wasn't anything around, and I needed to go, I needed to go NOW!! so I pulled into a gas station, well it was closed, I was pissed, I was about to shit behind the store when I cop pulled up, so I left, about the time I was back on the interstate I exploded in my pants... there was poop running up my back, down my legs, IT WAS TERRIBLE!! So I go to the next exit, and pull off behind some random building to remove all of my clothes! EVERYTHING... I noticed that it felt like something was stinging me, but I thought it was a weed or something, well while finishing to excrete the nasty poo poo from my insides, and cleaning myself off with bottled water and some paper towels, I was bitten over 100 times by Red Fire Ants..
Everyone in the car got a whiff at some point and they were all about to puke from the smell..
It was horrible.. the worst smell ever..
Saddest part was in all the clothes I threw on the ground and left was all of the gas money for the trip, and I didn't notice until an hour later, had to drive back and with protective grocery sacks on my hands sift thru shitty clothes for $200..
It was the worst experience ever.. 3 days later on the return home drive, I started swelling up, I had to go to the doctor as soon as we were back in town... I still have a few scars from the Fire ANTS!
I have had several VERY close calls but I have only done the deed once, and I was super sick and couldn't make a bathroom.
Man I miss me some nasty Batty polls LOL
~~NGD
Came close once, but my cheeks hit the toilet seat the moment the fury started.
This near miss happened back in 2003 after I got married. My wife was on active duty with the military and we would meet half way between Atlanta and Augusta in Milton. They had a Zaxby's and I made the mistake of getting hot sauce on my wings (which already are impregnated with enough peanut oil to shoot through your system pretty quickly). Well, after spending an hour, or so, walking around downtown Milton with wife, I felt a rumble. At that point I figured it was time to go, so I reached the car, and knew I had about 90 minutes of driving to reach my door. At first, no problem, the distress was pretty high in my system. After about 30 minutes of driving, though, my ass was clenched like a vise for fear I would literally shit in my pants. I dared not stop anywhere along the trip, because I could tell that I was only going to be able to muster ONE attempt at getting out of the car, and I knew deep down that the next time I sat down, out it would come. Well, I sweat it out with my foot to the floor for the next hour...and FINALLY get home. Literally, I've lost over a pint of sweat by this time and I knew I had SECONDS to reach my goal.
As soon as the car was parked, I burst through the door of the house and made it the 15 feet to the downstairs bathroom with no time to spare.
That was the closest call I have ever had in this regard, and to this day have managed to never shit my pants
Lol, that was a very compelling story. Reminds me of that one Tucker Max story when he shits in his pants.
I had one moment when I was in college. I took the El train downtown. then would walk about 1 mile to school. So, I felt the rumbles on the train, knew I had to go. I made it to the street, and was walking to class. And i had to go, bad, RIGHT now. So bad, that i was doing this strange walk, I probably looked like a Trex. And i was sweating like crazy. well, i couldn't quite make it to my building. And nowhere in downtown chicago can you use a bathroom without being a customer. nowhere. so, I busted in some place. asked where the bathroom was and went. sweat dripping off my face probably got me a free pass to use it. But I really considered pulling down my pants in downtown chicago and letting her rip all over the street, in front of everyone. I was seriously close to doing so.
I was living/studying in Venezuela last summer and was having hell adjusting to the food. My host mother would usually make something delicious for lunch and leave it out on the stove for the rest of the day, and dinner is not a big deal down there, so it would just be the leftovers that had been sitting on the stove all day. I had pleaded with her to just put them in the fridge after lunch, but she insisted that anything she cooked would stay good left out of the fridge for at least a day, but that wasn't the case for me. My gringo stomach couldn't handle it, and I had diarrhea for weeks. So one weekend, my friend and I decide to go up the longest and highest cable car system in the world that was quite literally at our doorstep and then hike around in the Andes for a day. I had had a pretty bad rash of diarrhea for the last few days, but was undeterred because I had terrible diarrhea a few weeks earlier before going on a wildlife safari also in the middle of nowhere with no incidents. I took a bunch of Imodium and figured that would be enough to plug myself up. Finally, we get to the top of the cable car and began to descend into sheer nothingness. We had plans to find this remote village of no more than 100 people MILES away and spend the night there. I had been feeling fine, and I don't know if it was the thin air, the physical activity, the Imodium waring off, or a combination of all the above, but my stomach began to churn with unbearable pain. I had to stop every so often to let the pain work its way through, and continued on for a good long distance. However, the pain became so intolerable I had to do something. I dropped my pants, squatted over, and let loose a flowing stream of dookie, and it was such a strain on me that it made me vomit which got all over my hiking boots, with pink chunks of the Pepto-bismol I had swallowed earlier in an attempt to douse the flames of my pain everywhere. Thankfully there was not another soul around for miles to see this, as I had told my friend to go around the next bend and wait for me there. Fortunately, I had packed some Charmin wet wipes for the trip, and they literally saved my ass. I felt 100% better after that incident (at least physically) and we marched on to the village with a massive pile of puke, runny poo, and used moist wipes behind us. Once we got there I was taking off my clothes to rest for the night when I noticed that the entire lower portion of my back had been splattered with dookie, as well as the back of my shirt.
Later that night, I drank a bunch of rum to kill the bacteria in my stomach, and it seemed to do the trick.
Wow Paul. I feel bad for you. That just sounds all around embarassing.
I had one moment when I was in college. I took the El train downtown. then would walk about 1 mile to school. So, I felt the rumbles on the train, knew I had to go. I made it to the street, and was walking to class. And i had to go, bad, RIGHT now. So bad, that i was doing this strange walk, I probably looked like a Trex. And i was sweating like crazy. well, i couldn't quite make it to my building. And nowhere in downtown chicago can you use a bathroom without being a customer. nowhere. so, I busted in some place. asked where the bathroom was and went. sweat dripping off my face probably got me a free pass to use it. But I really considered pulling down my pants in downtown chicago and letting her rip all over the street, in front of everyone. I was seriously close to doing so.
Lmao!!! I had the same feeling as you did in my story, but fortunatley I wasn't in one of the biggest urban centers in America! But you could sneak your way into a bathroom at a McDonald's anywhere, even downtown, or for that matter, any restuarant downtown during the lunch rush, nobody would really notice you or care enough to stop you.
I'm glad you didn't bend over and squat like I had to right in the middle of downtown. In that case, your shit covered pants would be the least of your worries!
Wow, well I certainly can't top Paul's story, and I have never actually crapped in my pants but I came really close to it one time.
I was living/studying in Venezuela last summer and was having hell adjusting to the food. My host mother would usually make something delicious for lunch and leave it out on the stove for the rest of the day, and dinner is not a big deal down there, so it would just be the leftovers that had been sitting on the stove all day. I had pleaded with her to just put them in the fridge after lunch, but she insisted that anything she cooked would stay good left out of the fridge for at least a day, but that wasn't the case for me. My gringo stomach couldn't handle it, and I had diarrhea for weeks. So one weekend, my friend and I decide to go up the longest and highest cable car system in the world that was quite literally at our doorstep and then hike around in the Andes for a day. I had had a pretty bad rash of diarrhea for the last few days, but was undeterred because I had terrible diarrhea a few weeks earlier before going on a wildlife safari also in the middle of nowhere with no incidents. I took a bunch of Imodium and figured that would be enough to plug myself up. Finally, we get to the top of the cable car and began to descend into sheer nothingness. We had plans to find this remote village of no more than 100 people MILES away and spend the night there. I had been feeling fine, and I don't know if it was the thin air, the physical activity, the Imodium waring off, or a combination of all the above, but my stomach began to churn with unbearable pain. I had to stop every so often to let the pain work its way through, and continued on for a good long distance. However, the pain became so intolerable I had to do something. I dropped my pants, squatted over, and let loose a flowing stream of dookie, and it was such a strain on me that it made me vomit which got all over my hiking boots, with pink chunks of the Pepto-bismol I had swallowed earlier in an attempt to douse the flames of my pain everywhere. Thankfully there was not another soul around for miles to see this, as I had told my friend to go around the next bend and wait for me there. Fortunately, I had packed some Charmin wet wipes for the trip, and they literally saved my ass. I felt 100% better after that incident (at least physically) and we marched on to the village with a massive pile of puke, runny poo, and used moist wipes behind us. Once we got there I was taking off my clothes to rest for the night when I noticed that the entire lower portion of my back had been splattered with dookie, as well as the back of my shirt.
Later that night, I drank a bunch of rum to kill the bacteria in my stomach, and it seemed to do the trick.
Great Story.. I love it..
Come on people, share you poo poo stories...
Gav, wet wipes FTW...but awful realization that you'd splattered shit on yourself
Nobody knew or anything. Just one of those "Okay I'm going to fart... waiiit a second..."
I just ran to the bathroom and threw the boxers out.
I just ran to the bathroom and threw the boxers out.
Were they nice boxers?