Worst ever for me was with my an ex gf we were playing a board game. I was feeling perfectly fine absolutely ZERO sign of anything to go wrong, go to let out a little fart it wasn't a fart, then soon as that came out, my intestines were in full revolt. I ran to the bathroom whipped down my pants turned around starting to sit on the toilet, then my stomach starts growling. Soon as my ass hit the toilet I could reach for the garbage can that was sitting beside it, ripped out the bag and started to puke while I was shitting. That was a fun moment. I have had my intestines tell me in short order that I need to find a washroom, but nothing ever so bad as that.
What could possibly go wrong with moonshine made out of pears by a senile farmer in the hills of Bosnai that was smuggled back to the US in a plastic coke bottle? It does burn a little when you do a shot of it.
God only knows. I found it on the internet. Maybe it's the horrifying end result of a world record attempt at an anal gang bang?
The reason I shit regularly to this day is because I ran cross country in high school. Think of it as PTSD shitting. Before I started running competitively, I'd go probably a few times per week. After a major mishap, a few uncomfortable races, and more wet farts than I can remember, my body still instinctively shits several times per day, a decade later. - Worst was when, during a race, I knew I could not make it to the finish line. My stomach was rumbling and that blast furnace was about to open whether I was in an appropriate pooing location or not. A few years prior, dude was running the Pike's Peak Marathon, in second place, and had diarrhea so bad he stopped in the middle of the road to take a shit; soon as his pants went down some asshole photographer snapped a shot and that picture was on the front page the next day. With this horror story in the forefront of my mind, I managed to, quite literally, hold it -- meaning, my ass cheeks -- together until I ran past a port-a-john, ducked in there, and did the quickest dump-n-jump of my life. To my horror, when I came out, I discovered that people had not only noticed me go in there, but were now laughing at me. The race was at our school. - Running straight through the finish line, past my coaches, and directly into the restroom was a fun, albeit embarrassing experience. It happened several times. This made me the, uhm, butt of a few jokes on the team. I've told this story on here before, but one time I sharted myself on a plane and didn't know it until several hours later, after we landed. I knew I had bad gas on the plane, but I didn't know it was that bad. Liquidy. Threw my boxers in a restroom trash can once we landed and I realized what happened. And that's the last time I ate Sbarro airport pizza.
The one, the only... tubgirl.... before there were two girls, one cup. Spoiler For when you thought you had a shitty week.
When I was taking care of my aunt, one of her many health issues was chronic constipation. She would sometimes go two weeks without shitting, which would cause the doctor to prescribe higher and higher doses of high powered laxatives and stool softeners until the dam finally broke. This was troubling, but tolerable while she was still lucid. She'd say "I have to go" and I'd pick her up, place her in her wheel chair, and RUN her through the house to pick her up and place her on the toilet. Most of the time we made it. Most. And I thought that was horrible. Once she was no longer lucid.... I was sitting watching TV (We'd set her hospital bed in the living room) and the air became foul. Awful. Horrible. Devoid of oxygen. The dam had broke. Two weeks worth. By this time I'd taken to putting double diapers on her in case of accidents, because they were frequent....but not accidents like this. This 95 pound woman let loose 85 pounds of liquid shit. It was everywhere. From her neck to her feet, front and back. All over her, the bed, and dripping onto the floor. I had to clean her off as best I could with a wash cloth and a bucket of warm water and clean the bed. The latter would've been easier if I could've actually removed her from the bed, but that wasn't possible because she was #1 covered in shit & #2 likely to break if I manhandled her. Thankfully by that time she was so out of it she didn't realize what was going on. She would've been mortified.
I knew I'd regret it, but I just tried to watch "Cleveland Abduction" about Ariel Castro. I made it about 20 minutes before I couldn't take anymore. I know it's "Based on a true story" and that means much of it's dramatized bullshit, but I can't watch it. Fuck that noise. It hit enough of the facts in the first few minutes that I turned it off.
It's Friday night, there's a killer wind/thunder storm brewing, I'm drunk, and I'm watching Killjoys, a schlocky sci-fi show about "company bounty hunters". I happen to enjoy the fuck out of it. I get to pick up a monster load of hardwood tomorrow for some projects I have planned that will finish off the interior of my place... including a pair of hanging/sliding bookcases that cover a useless patio door, a fancy dining room table, and a big honking entertainment set. The Domino is going to get a hell of a workout, as is the jointer/planer. It's getting dark earlier and earlier these days... I've gotta get this shit done before the weather turns into winter, seeing as I do all my work in the back yard. Fun times.
Really Shegirl? Shit stories? And people say that I'M bad at starting threads... But I'll play your game. Here's a reprint/re-editing of an old post of mine: My story takes place at the beach when Li'l Bandit was about 4 or 5. I had the bubble-guts for the whole drive to the beach. I could feel pressure building in my bowels for the whole 50 mile drive. Once I parked the car at the public beach, I decided to quietly let one rip. As I did so, I could feel hot wetness in between my cheeks; I clenched-up and tried to get to the bathroom as fast as I could while trying to bend my legs as little as possible. I got to a stall in the 90 degree (F) public bathrooms and assessed the damage: One pair of light-grey boxer-briefs stained. There was no way I was keeping those, but I didn't want anyone to see me throwing them away, either. As my colon unleashed it's volcanic fury on the stainless steel toilet below, I hatched a plan: I would just flush the underwear down the toilet. Most public toilets have the power to suck down new-born infants, after all. Unfortunately that wasn't the case with this toilet, and the shorts got lodged in the exit. I tried flushing again, hoping that the weight of the water building up would push them through. It didn't. Instead, it overflowed, sending shitty water running over the edge of the bowl. Li'l Bandit and I beat a hasty retreat after that. On the plus side, Li'l Bandit and I had a great day at the beach after that. To get any images out of your heads, here's some eye bleach (with no pubic hair): Spoiler
Pubic hair is highly underrated. For example, you can use it to light a signal fire if you're lost in the woods.
Funnily enough the worst shittiest story I have doesn't involve alcohol. I was just heading off to the pub and had some new runners that I wanted to wear in so I decided to go the long way around and earn some beer credits. Lunch didn't agree with me and I had gone around 3km and my belly started making massive amounts of noise. I pushed on for about another 500m thinking it was closer to a different pub and I'd make it there. Got that far and I had the 5 second warning. Dropped trou and jumped into the bushes off the path and sprayed everywhere, managed not to get it on me too much. Used my undies to wipe it off, walked back home, showered and off to the pub.
So yeah... shit's getting real out here, yo. Again. http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Ro...roys+homes+grows+hectares/11288565/story.html
Worst shit I ever had to take was when I was out in the woods of Northern Ontario, deer hunting. I was stalking a buck, and the wall hit me. I had to drop trou right then and there, and let loose in the middle of a game trail. The big problem was clean-up... so I did what only seemed reasonable, and sacrificed my toque. To this day I get shit for "feeding the porcupines" my toque. Still, no regrets.