Ever shit your pants?

It’s called 'Montezuma’s Revenge," though I don’t think that’s politically correct these days. And yes, it does happen to real live grownups.

My brief story of shame:
I was with four friends, all of us in our mid- to late-20’s, visiting Guatemala for a couple of weeks. During our short stay there, the large majority of us (read: 4 out of 5 of us at least admitted to it) suffered from sudden, lightning fast attacks of diarrhea and cramping so insistent that we crapped our pants.
Until that moist, embarrassing, cramping moment, I would have firmly agreed with anyone who claimed that this doesn’t happen to ‘adults’.
I had also thought that only my bladder was capable of emitting such a large quantity of pure fluid.
If scientists could harness the force behind the gasses and urges that ripped their way out of our butts, we would have each been able to power a major city for several hours.

Alas, ‘hind-sight,’ so to speak, is 20:20.

I left out a vital detail to our collective trauma–
It was not like we were a long way from the bathroom when the first signs of ‘trouble’ begain. Two of the party even made their messes while in our hotel room, with the bathroom, merely a few feet away down the hallway, not nearly close enough to do any good.

I am one of those rare and delicate flowers known as a woman who admits she has gas from time to time. Now I will also reveal the tantalizing and alluring fact that I have indeed shit my pants.

One time when I was about 23 I had been sick for a couple of days and finally felt well enough to go to work. I was about to leave the house when I had some gas pressure and thought I’d squeeze it out. Unfortunately, I had diahrreah right down my pants leg.

Needless to say, I did not go to work.

Yech.

Awww Canthe, that’s so sweet.

Reading this shit just has me in stitches so I hope nobody will complain if it’s resurrected after 4 months.

Somebody mentioned observing a pant crapping earlier and reminded me of an incident I was an unwilling participant in several years ago.

I’ve the coolest hippie friend who lives out in Van Horn in the middle of the desert with his folks, even though he’s my age. I’d gone out to visit him and their home is this lush oasis in the middle of boulders and cactus. We were sitting under the arbor one night tilting a few when he excused himself to move a water hose. I didn’t see him again for about 30 minutes.

He finally comes back and I notice that his shorts and shirt are a different color. “You won’t believe what happened” he says. “Wanna bet?” say I.

Charlie took me up to the lit carport next to the house. Walking up I suddenly froze in my tracks. The stench of shit was ubiquitous. I look and there’s a trail of brown spots leading up to the door. Flurk. It’s like some CSI plot… you can read the story by the clues he left. Seems he got the craps while he was working, the normally telltale sensation of impending doom apparently deadened or postponed by our beer consumption. Charlie had run for the door with turds spilling out his shorts. He’d flung open the screen door but apparently couldn’t wait anymore or was scared he was also going to spill more turds in the kitchen. So he dropped his crappy pants and squatted by the back door. Man, how’d you like to have opened the door to that? So he finishes launching his sea pickle, takes off his pants and goes to find a shovel, only he doesn’t hear the screen door slam. Looking back, there’s his poo holding open the screen door.

By the time I get there with him, 30 fucking minutes later, there’s brown pit stains across the poop port and this sweeping poopswipe where the door hit the shit. About this time his mom walks out.

“Charlie, what happened out here?” she says. I mean the stench is atrocious. “Uuuh… lieu spilled something out of his cooler.” Yeah, like I keep poop in my cooler. “Sorry” I said, and added that I really really hoped this didn’t happen agagin.

This is the funniest thread I’ve ever read! I’ve been laughing hysterically, hoping the Dean doesn’t pick today for one of his surprise visits.

It also brought to mind my story. When I was about 9 years old, my family and I were on a road trip. We’d been visiting my grandparents and were headed back home. My mother, a health food nut, gave us raisins to snack on in the car.

While we were still about 2 or 3 hours from home, they made a pit stop for coffee and left us kids in the car. My brother was 6, and my sister was 2. Anyway, we were all kind of snoozing, and I woke up to find that I’d had a horrible diarrhea attack. I was wearing a long calico dress that my mother had made for me, and bawled as I got out of the car and went into the restaurant to try to find my parents so my mom could help me clean up.

I just told my sister about it, and we were laughing so hard that I peed my pants. My humiliation is indeed complete.

Timely resurrection; I almost started a thread yesterday on the subject.

I went out to get a haircut at lunchtime. No problem, feeling fine. Get my haircut and start to walk back to the office (about 15 minutes). I wanted to do some window shopping while out as I rarely go out at lunch, and downtown NYC was in the midst of its tax-free days.

The first pang hit. Nothing serious, but annoying. I cut window shopping short and start the trek back. Five minutes into the walk it starts getting worse…much worse. Bad enough to start considering a public bathroom if there were such a thing in NYC. I pick up the pace, but get slowed down by the WTC gawkers (it’s just a big hole now, there’s nothing to look at, so why they keep filing in is beyond me). Getting worse every step. Cheeks are clenched tight as a vice. I would have run, but I couldn’t keep them together then. I barely made it into the office and into a bathroom. Had to contend with diarrhea the rest of the afternoon, which I think was caused by backing it up while I made it to the bathroom.

Wow I’ve done this so many times that it’s not even funny. Luckily though, most of them have been at home, but I’ll start with the worst one.

I was about 6 years old and was really constipated. For some reason I was always plugged up as a kid. Anyway, I hadn’t gone in a good 10 days and I was in so much pain on this particular day that I didn’t go to school, instead I went with my mom to work. That whole day my mom was supposed to be training some new employees at the bank she worked at, so I had just been sitting in her office the entire day. Suddenly that all too familiar urge hit me. For some reason I decided that I would just hold it in, instead of walking 40 ft to the bathroom. Well I couldn’t hold it in. It wasn’t diarrhea, it was just a big, hard turd. It looked like I had a potato shoved in my shorts. So I decided that I was going to need my mom’s help and crawled into her meeting, poop still in pants. She told her class to take a break and we went to the bathroom. We just plopped that turd right out into the toilet and I finished my business, thereby clogging up the toilet. On my mom’s lunch break we had to drive to my grandparent’s house (they were out of town otherwise I would’ve stayed there) to get some new undies. We went back and the same thing happened, and I clogged the other toilet. I should mention that this was the only women’s bathroom in the builing and it only had the two aforementioned stalls. We ended up sticking an “Out of Order” sign on the door.

My other pant-shitting experiences have all been Foops (you try to fart but you poop). I’ve done this countless times yet I’m always surprised. In fact, I just shat myself the other day. The only reason this hasn’t happened in public yet is that I use all my willpower to not fart around anyone else.

If anyone ever starts an “Ever pee your pants?” thread I’ll have plenty stories for in there as well.

I am lactose intolerant and suffer from irritable bowel syndrome. There have been times I have considered Depends because it is so bad. Some of the most memorable include:

  1. A near miss. Western Washington Fair in Puyallup. Shouldn’t have done but ate large ice cream cone. Within minutes, I was looking for the nearest facilities. I ran in, pulled down my pants just in time to explode all over the wall and the back of the commode. What made it more startling, it was bright green too. While cleaning up, someone went into the stall next to me and saw the mess running in his direction to a floor drain. He called out “You okay buddy?”

  2. Half and half. My wife and I were returning home from a day of Christmas shopping. The urge suddenly hit and we were at least 2 miles from the nearest rest room. I squeezed as hard as I could but it started to escape. I pulled over to the side of the freeway (in a remote area), went to the passenger side of my truck, dropped my drawers and let fly. I estimated the initial blast projected my poo at least 12 to 15 feet. I keep a roll of TP and some baby wipes in my truck and was able to clean up fairly well except my drawers and pants were wasted. I took them off, put them in the back of the truck, and had my wife drive the rest of the way home. I sat in the passenger seat bottomless. A few days later I drove by the same spot and notice the state had a road cleaning crew through since my misfortune. The pile of TP and wipes I had left along side the road was gone.

  3. A full boat. Over a period of a few days, I had taken many Imodium to control the IRB. I was then plugged up for a couple of days. I was running errands and stopped my a small drive in restaurant for lunch. They had root beer milkshakes. I love root beer milkshakes. I drank a root beer milkshake. An hour later a sharp pain ran through my lower extremities. The pressure started and became almost unbearable. While sitting at a red light, I tried to relieve some of the pressure. I had been plugged up pretty good so I figure I could relieve some of the pressure without fear of crapping myself. I leaned onto my right butt cheek, gave a gentle squeeze, and blew off some of the pressure. Just as I sat upright, the pressure hit again only twice as bad. I leaned again, a little gas escaped, the light turned green, BOOM, my pants were full. I tried to go but my truck stalled when I let out the clutch. The smell was a combination of methane, natural gas, and sewer gas. The guy behind me started honking his horn and I was trying to start my truck. I got the car going and pulled into a parking lot. The smell then got to me, I threw open the door to my car and barfed all over the parking lot

. I pulled behind a gas station, took off my pants, through away my undies and cleaned myself with a new chamois cloth I had bought earlier. I went by that spot a few while later and saw something rather disgusting. Scroll below to read, it is TMI.

A dog was eating the barf…while the dog’s owner stood by holding his leash.

As I’ve said before, I used to think I had a sense of humor that appreciated sophisticated wordplay, inside jokes, and so on. So why is it that my favorite threads are the toilet humor ones? I have been “squirting” tears as I am doubled over the keyboard, laughing.

I was coming back on a double date one Sunday on I-35, a little ways north of Austin. Busy busy highway. The other guy was an offensive lineman for our college, great big funny guy with a little bitty date, you know the type. I’m driving and looking in my mirror I see that he’s broken out in a sweat.

“Hey lieu, pull over, I’ve gotta shit” he says. Our dates start to laugh and he says “No, I mean it.” He didn’t want me to find a gas station, he moves towards the door and say “Now!”

I whip over to the shoulder and he explodes out the car. Doug doesn’t even make it to the access road, he just pulls his pants down about 15 feet behind our car in the ditch, grabs his ass cheeks with bath hands, squats over and all of a sudden there’s this unattended firehose coming out his ass. It went on forever and ever and then it looked like someone was throwing dirt clods out his butt. Freakin bizarre. His pile must have looked like spaghetti and meatballs. The whole time he’s grimacing like he’s in pain and we hear him going “Uuuunnnnnnaaaahhhhh… uuunnnnaaahhhhhhh… hhhhnnnnnnnaaahhhhh”

We’re all three looking back at him and laughing our asses off and he’s waddling over to us so he can get some newspaper and wipe himself up. He was facing us, which gave all the approaching cars a bird’s eye view of his defecation. They all started honking and I was really surprised when we left not to find just a whole bunch of barf up the road.

Oh, lieu, that’s a howler! I’m picturing him with his hands on his cheeks, and I’m holding back tears.

What a nightmare!

I’m thankful to say that I have restrained myself from crapping my pants since the last time this thread was resurrected.

:: crosses fingers ::

Scout, I’ve missed you and Cranky so! Even though I’m 6’1" and 210, I still giggle like a schoolgirl when I think about your “poof”.

Actually, anybody that can laugh at poo is okay in my book. It’s like it’s God’s way of saying telling us mortals “Don’t take yourself too seriously.” Damn good advice!

Scout, I’ve missed you and Cranky so! Even though I’m 6’1" and 210, I still giggle like a schoolgirl when I think about your “poof”.

Actually, anybody that can laugh at poo is okay in my book. It’s like it’s God’s way of saying telling us mortals “Don’t take yourself too seriously.” Damn good advice!

Doug’s hands were centering his anus like a really bad picture frame. Those poor travellers coming up from behind must have thought they were getting shot at by some kind of pioneer musket or something.

Ok, this is an “almost” story, but quite memorable to me.

I’m part of the “in” crowd at a local strip club. It’s a long story, but most of my female friends are strippers or have been, and I usually don’t pay for much at the club. So, one night I’m hanging with some friends, really not trying for anything, just chillin’. For some unexplained reason, the best dancer in the club, I mean THE dancer, little pixie-ish blond with a perfect body, top earner of all the dancers, decides tonite’s my night. She’s all over me like a cheap suit. She goes up to dance her next-to-last set and tells her roomate to give me directions to their apartment. She does, and the girl comes back and tells me to meet at 4am her after the club closes and to keep it quiet since the manager frowns on this sort of thing.

No problem, I think, I’ll just leave early (I ususally hang until after the doors are locked) and go sit in a parking lot or something near her place. Who cares, I’m gonna get laid and laid well!!

I leave, and I’m just driving around caling my best friend on the cell and waking him up (it’s 3am) and telling him about my good fortune. I realize I’m out of gum and I wanna have nice fresh breath, so I cruise into a grocery store about a block from her apartment to get some gum. It’s 3:30ish, the store is deserted, all the guys are stocking the shelves, nobody is near the cash registers and I have to wait forever for them to come up and take my money. I leave, cruise up to her place, she’s not there yet, I chill and listen to the radio. 3:45, I suddenly feel the godawfulest shit pains of my life. I don’t know if it was nerves or what, but I went from zero to shitsy in about 5 seconds. I lock down all exits, the sweating starts, and I’m scared shitless (shitful?) that this girl is gonna pull up any second. Can you imagine that? “Hey babe, can I use your bathroom before we fuck?” No way am I about to let this happen.

I start the car and peel outta there. The only thing I can figure is maybe the grocery store where I got the gum. I don’t go there often, it’s not near my house or anything, and I can’t remember if it’s one of those that has public restrooms up front or not.

I get there, brisk walk inside, oh damn no toilet in front. I try to covertly make my way to the back without anyone seeing me. After all, wasn’t I the guy who was just in here yelling for someone to take my money for one lousy pack of gum?

I get to the back, no obvious toilet there either. But there is that little set of swinging doors and you KNOW they have one back there for themselves. By this time, it’s point of no return, I say fuck it and sneak into customer-forbidden territory. Sure enough there it is. I get in and run to the handicapped stall. Closing the door, unbuckling, unzipping and sitting down are all one fluid motion.

Ever see that movie American Pie? When the guy grabs both sides of the pot and hangs on for dear life? It was like that!

I did an extra-good job of cleaning up. I felt like a new man when I walked outta there. I’m sure the stocker-guys were completely puzzled as I breezed past them on my way out.

I went back and, wouldn’t you know it, she was late. By the time she showed up, I could have driven all the way to my house, took care of business, showered and changed clothes and driven back. Strippers never get anywhere on time!

Oh but it was worth the wait! She was a goddess!

Yep. 3rd grade. On the playground. Mrs. Martin wouldn’t excuse me to go to the restroom. I honestly believe she didn’t realize it was an emergency but she understood quite clearly on my second pass. I smelled like a giant steaming bag of doo-doo (which I was). Mom was displeased.

you guys are killing me! Especially lieu. I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time.

I have shit my pants on many occasions but two really stand out in my mind. The more recent episode was on a romantic walk with my then girlfriend after a great meal. Why did I eat a salad? I KNOW they always “speed things up.” So why? :smack: Once we had walked far enough from any acceptable receptacle my bowels launched their mutiny. My belly was engulfed in that all too familiar ice-cold grip that sneers at human willpower. I had the sense to fess up right away and we started back towards civilization. I knew in my heart it was hopeless. Before we had taken 50 paces the barbarians were breaching the gate. Suffice it to say my colon dealt my sphincter a SPECTACULAR defeat. My underwear couldn’t hope to contain the steaming brown tide cascading down my legs. Not bad for our 4th date! :smiley:

Anyway-she took me home and even offered to clean my pants out while I showered! I proposed a few months later and we will be married in May. No lie.

I didn’t actually shit my pants for my second story but this is a good time to tell it. I was driving through the Arizona desert in the middle of the night. I recommend everyone do this once before you die-the stars and meteors are AMAZING. Imagine my panic when I felt that horrible twinge right below my navel. I could practically HEAR my bowels chuckling sadistically. But fortune smiled on me for once and I came across a little gas stop/convenience store in the middle of nowhere. I go in and ask for the key to the bathroom. (How thoughtful of the proprietors to lock the friggin thing!) The clerk won’t give me the key until I buy something. :mad: No sympathy when I tell him my wallet’s in the car and I’ll buy a coke when I come out. I was dumbfounded. I turned around and went out, knowing I had mere seconds to come up with something. I dropped my pants right in front of his glass door and started spraying a vile greasy stream of hot stink-juice all over his door, his parking lot, the locked bathroom door and anything else within range.

Got a roll of Bounty from my car, wiped my ass, tossed the paper towel in the trash and resumed my journey feeling pretty damn good. :stuck_out_tongue:

-Flaco

OK. I kept ignoring this thread. But now I can’t. I must join the crowd. I am a fellow short shitter.

This happened a few years ago. I play disc golf, which involves throwing heavier & smaller frisbee dics at chain baskets. The courses are usually constructed around public parks.

Me and my friend James go to a Taco Bell before heading out to this one course called Cedar Hills. I had the grease burrito with sour cream and a side of grease.

On about the 10th hole, I feel that rumble. It’s OK, I think. We’re getting close to a public restroom and I’ll just take a pit stop there. It’s my turn to tee off. I take a few steps and throw, and as I lift my leg in the air, I feel a little squib leak out and start to creep down my ass like a slug.

I tell James I have to find that restroom. I started walking, and as I do, the rumbling increases as more poo is trying to work its way out. At that moment I clench my ass cheeks as tight as possible and take baby steps all the way to the restroom, which is 4 holes away and up a hill. Babysteps. Babysteps. Babysteps.

I finally get there, and think OMG what if it’s locked??? I couldn’t tell right away because the doors were on the other side of the building from me. Just a few steps really, but it seemed like it’d take hours to get there.

Fortunately, it wasn’t locked. I babystep in there, and the stall is on the right side, so I quickly duck and attempt “The Move.” “The Move” of course is the attempt to pull down pants and underwear in one fluid (so to speak) motion while sitting down. Unfortunately for me, in that 1/4 of a second it took for my ass to contact the top of the toilet, my butt cheeks unclenched and projectile poo sprayed out and splashed the wall behind me as I was sitting down.

The poo had gotten in my hair, my shorts, my shirt, my shoes, and somehow on my belt and socks too! So, resigned to my fate, I empty ot the rest of my colon as best I can and discover there’s no paper! I had no choice but to wipe with my already considerably soiled underwear and leave it in the john.

I go to wash up, but the sink wasn’t working, so I went over to the ladies room and shouted EMERGENCY! Luckily, there was nobody there, and THEY HAD WATER AND PAPER! So I cleaned up best I could and walked back over to where James was and told him we had to go.

I drove, and stunk so bad James had to hang his head out the window all the way back. I told him all the sordid details of what happened, and he kept hollering SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I told him I got shit on my belt buckle and he said SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

We get back home, and my roommate has a bunch of our friends over. I try to sneak the back way to my bedroom and bathroom, but of course while I’m showering James tells them everything. When I came out, they kept making smartass comments about how they weren’t going to give me any shit about what happened.

Oh…my…gawd. This is the funniest thread in the history of intestinal trauma! I’m sitting here at work laughing out loud, and I can’t even tell the co-workers why!

This story happened to my dad when he was a kid. The teacher had the class marching in a circle and playing little cymbols and other percussion instruments. So they’re marching and playing, marching and playing, and suddenly my dad is doing step-step-step-slide, step-step -step-slide. He looks down, and the kid in front of him shit his pants and my dad was slipping in it. The kid never missed a step! Just kept shittin’ and marchin’…shittin’ and marchin’.

I haven’t only because I had the presence of mind to realize that nothing bad will happen if you pull off an interstate highway and go all over the soft shoulder.

I once shit my pants at the unholy spectacle of a years old zombie thread denied its rest. Man that was a hoot. :stuck_out_tongue: