Poop The Most Embarrassing Plane-Pooping Story Ever? - Page 3

teedubya · 11-01-2013, 09:53 PM

Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like it's percolating its way down into my lower intestine. I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn't more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulence. With each bounce, I have to fight my body, trying not to shit my pants. "Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five" I try and tell myself, each jostle a gamble I can't afford to lose. I signal to [the flight attendant] and she heads toward me.

"Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don't see a door?" I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my ass. She looks at me, bemused, and says, "Well, we don't really have one per se." She continues, "Technically, we have one, but it's really just for emergencies. Don't worry, we're landing shortly anyway."

"I'm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency," I manage to mutter through my grimace. I can see the fear in her face as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulence outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, "There. The toilet is there." For a brief instant, relief passes over my face. She continues, "If you pull away the leather cushion from that seat, it's under there. There's a small privacy screen that pulls up around it, but that's it." At this point, I was committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaft was set to blow.

I turn to look where she is pointing and I get the urge to cry. I do cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no difference. The "toilet" seat is occupied by the CFO, i.e. our ****ing client. Our ****ing female ****ing client!

Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or my exchange with the flight attendant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." That's all I can say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo impersonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Of course, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find out what the hell I'm doing.

Given my jovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almost everybody thinks I'm joking. She, however, knows right away that I am anything but and jumps up, moving quickly to where I had been sitting. I now had to remove the seat top – no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party, and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius.

I manage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. It had obviously never been used, ever. Why this moment of clarity came to me, I do not know. Perhaps it was the realization that I was going to take this toilet's virginity with a fury and savagery that was an abomination to its delicate craftsmanship and quality. I imagined some poor Italian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his once beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second as I was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava.

I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before I erupt. It's an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing but air and liquid spraying out in all directions – a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. I feel like I'm going to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." My apologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If that's not bad enough, I have one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level. I am sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" briefly comes to mind.

I literally could reach out with my left hand and rest it on the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. It was virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, that they weren't sharing a stall with some guy crapping his intestines out. Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry" is all the ashamed disembodied head can say…over and over again. Not that it mattered.

http://jalopnik.com/this-is-the-most...ver-1456846301

plazahawkeye · 11-02-2013, 10:07 AM

When I was 18 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 18 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.

I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shit to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn't aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.

Let me set the scene. Her parents are away. We have her house to ourselves. She was always a little kinky so she demands we do it in her parents bed.

I walk in to a candle holocaust. She's been working on this all day apparently, and its as bright as high noon in there with the lights off. Which is good, because she proceeds to do a sweet, sexy little dance for me. At 18, she was AMAZING. For those of you who never experienced a female at that age, I pity the fool.

Now I'm sitting on the bed, watching this dance. I smile and tell her how good she looks. Unfortunately, most of my attention is focused on the dull throbbing from my sphincter and the large amount of intestinal discomfort associated with not dropping duce in days. But somehow I still get hard and we go to town.

She starts out on top, then we switch. I bend her over the bed, and I even smack her ass (a ballsy move at the time, but she loved it). Due to my built up distraction, I last for what seems like FOREVER. She can't stop moaning and telling me how good it feels, and then she says what every man wants to hear "I want to make you go in my mouth." I **** love women.

So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my **** out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say "tell me if you like this". Then I feel it.

She stuck her finger up my ass.

My brain hits the panic switch and every muscle in my entire body locks up tighter than a three year old virgin. But its too late.

I take a massive, PAINFUL, PAINFUL shit, all over her parents comforter.

No, you aren't understanding. I mean large. Huge. IMMENSE. Take your largest shit and multiple it by forty-two and you'll have an idea of what flew out of me.

And gents, when I say flew, I don't mean "I pooped." I mean "projectile". I mean "hurricane force winds hitting an umbrella stand". And due to my condition, it comes out as a large, dark brown, smelly harpoon.

I know it hit her. I didn't see it. She ran screaming "OH MY GOD OHMYGODOHMYGODEEEEEWWWWWWWW" but I always imagined that, due to her position, it hit her right in the chin. Or at least the tits.

I would like to say I got up to go after her. But I heard the bathroom door shut and I just lied there. The smell hit me after a few seconds. It smelled like someone rolled a cat in shit and threw it into a tire fire. I looked down and saw, to date, the largest bowel movement I've ever heard of laying on the bed. Then I noticed the blood, and when I did, I noticed the pain.

Apparently the fact that it was so large caused it to rip my ass a little bit (thought I was bleeding from the inside. This little doctors trip the next day is what taught me of my condition). There was a small pool of blood where my ass had been. A final reminder of the exact place and moment I lost my virginity. I will treasure this memory for all my days.

I grab my shit with my hands and go to the downstairs bathroom. I throw around 1/3 into the toilet and flush, fearing any more will clog it and only add to my already significant woes.

I stand there, holding 2/3's of my biggest shit of all time, feeling a trickle of blood flow down my leg, trying to ignore the sharp pain stabbing my rectum. I find myself wishing I had a photo of this.

Anyway, I finish flushing my baby, clean off my hands, jam toilet paper between my cheeks (I skipped the bandaid) and went upstairs. I could hear my girlfriend sobbing from behind the bathroom door. I decided not to say anything to her and just keep moving. The smell in her parents room was abysmal. Its like when you take a shit and walk out of the bathroom you think "hey not so bad today," but then you walk back in to grab your magazine and go "HOLY SHIT!". It was one of those moments.

The scene is burned behind my eyelids for all time. My life. My shame. My very first time smelled like a pile of dead babies. I quickly got dressed since the heat from ten thousand candles was making the room feel more like a port-a-potty. I was aware enough to grab the comforter on my way out and drag it downstairs to their washer. Also the top and bottom sheets since the blood had leaked on through all the way to mattress. Still no sign of the GF but at this point I considered it a blessing.

I jammed in the washer with 3 loads worth of detergent and set it on spin, knowing that not even the hand of God would save these linens, let alone Tide and Snuggles.

Then I left. I avoided my GF's calls for days until she came to my house. We had a long talk about what happened. Talk being synonymous with "breaking up with me because I shit on her". And it was all over. She promised not to tell a soul and I don't THINK she ever did. She was probably as ashamed as I was about the whole deed. But I will always this happening as the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.

**Fire Me Boy!** · 11-02-2013, 10:55 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by plazahawkeye

When I was 18 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 18 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.

I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shit to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn't aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.

....

You should credit others work when you copy and paste. A link is customary.

plazahawkeye · 11-02-2013, 11:09 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Fire Me Boy!

You should credit others work when you copy and paste. A link is customary.

It was from the op in the comments section you dumb shit, go get self righteous elsewhere.

TLO · 11-02-2013, 11:39 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by plazahawkeye

It was from the op in the comments section you dumb shit, go get self righteous elsewhere.

Well that escalated quickly...

dmahurin · 11-02-2013, 11:47 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Mr. Flopnuts

This is a Q. It was originally posted in the Goldman Sachs Elevator Man twitter thread. Here, here it is. Post 40. I laughed over that ****ing thing for days.

http://www.chiefsplanet.com/BB/showthread.php?t=254956

And it's still just as funny now as it was then.

plazahawkeye · 11-02-2013, 11:48 AM

Sorry thought I was in prison again... have to beat the crap out of the first guy that talks to you if you are the new guy.

TLO · 11-02-2013, 11:50 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by plazahawkeye

Sorry thought I was in prison again... have to beat the crap out of the first guy that talks to you if you are the new guy.

I'm just going to go ahead and assume you're hootie until proven otherwise.

plazahawkeye · 11-02-2013, 12:04 PM

Darius Rucker posts on this board? Sweet!

**Canofbier** · 11-02-2013, 12:11 PM

**TimBone** · 11-02-2013, 12:12 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Big Smoke

I'm just going to go ahead and assume you're hootie until proven otherwise.

Damn you, man! Everybody isn't Hootie! Let us have our own identity!

TLO · 11-02-2013, 12:18 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Flybone McTimmerson

Damn you, man! Everybody isn't Hootie! Let us have our own identity!

**Baby Lee** · 11-02-2013, 12:31 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Canofbier

Andy is the man.

And April is adorable there. You can tell that is 100% Aubrey laughing at Chris, not acting.

**TimBone** · 11-02-2013, 12:37 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Baby Lee

Andy is the man.

And April is adorable there. You can tell that is 100% Aubrey laughing at Chris, not acting.

What show is it?

Chiefshrink · 11-02-2013, 12:46 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DJJasonp

Rodney got so drunk, he shit himself......and the plane reeked of his fresh deposit in his pants.

Middle to Late stages or Alcoholism for sure.

**Baby Lee** · 11-02-2013, 12:53 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Flybone McTimmerson

What show is it?

Parks and Recreation

11-01-2013, 09:53 PM
teedubya Most Valuable Poster Join Date: Oct 2003 Casino cash: $9490002	The Most Embarrassing Plane-Pooping Story Ever? Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like it's percolating its way down into my lower intestine. I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn't more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulence. With each bounce, I have to fight my body, trying not to shit my pants. "Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five" I try and tell myself, each jostle a gamble I can't afford to lose. I signal to [the flight attendant] and she heads toward me. "Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don't see a door?" I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my ass. She looks at me, bemused, and says, "Well, we don't really have one per se." She continues, "Technically, we have one, but it's really just for emergencies. Don't worry, we're landing shortly anyway." "I'm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency," I manage to mutter through my grimace. I can see the fear in her face as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulence outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, "There. The toilet is there." For a brief instant, relief passes over my face. She continues, "If you pull away the leather cushion from that seat, it's under there. There's a small privacy screen that pulls up around it, but that's it." At this point, I was committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaft was set to blow. I turn to look where she is pointing and I get the urge to cry. I do cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no difference. The "toilet" seat is occupied by the CFO, i.e. our **ing client. Our ing female **ing client! Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or my exchange with the flight attendant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." That's all I can say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo impersonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Of course, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find out what the hell I'm doing. Given my jovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almost everybody thinks I'm joking. She, however, knows right away that I am anything but and jumps up, moving quickly to where I had been sitting. I now had to remove the seat top – no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party, and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius. I manage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. It had obviously never been used, ever. Why this moment of clarity came to me, I do not know. Perhaps it was the realization that I was going to take this toilet's virginity with a fury and savagery that was an abomination to its delicate craftsmanship and quality. I imagined some poor Italian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his once beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second as I was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava. I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before I erupt. It's an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing but air and liquid spraying out in all directions – a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. I feel like I'm going to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." My apologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If that's not bad enough, I have one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level. I am sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" briefly comes to mind. I literally could reach out with my left hand and rest it on the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. It was virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, that they weren't sharing a stall with some guy crapping his intestines out. Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry" is all the ashamed disembodied head can say…over and over again. Not that it mattered. http://jalopnik.com/this-is-the-most...ver-1456846301
Posts: 36,649

11-02-2013, 10:07 AM	#31
plazahawkeye Rookie Join Date: Apr 2013 Casino cash: $10004905	When I was 18 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 18 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination. I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shit to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn't aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days. Let me set the scene. Her parents are away. We have her house to ourselves. She was always a little kinky so she demands we do it in her parents bed. I walk in to a candle holocaust. She's been working on this all day apparently, and its as bright as high noon in there with the lights off. Which is good, because she proceeds to do a sweet, sexy little dance for me. At 18, she was AMAZING. For those of you who never experienced a female at that age, I pity the fool. Now I'm sitting on the bed, watching this dance. I smile and tell her how good she looks. Unfortunately, most of my attention is focused on the dull throbbing from my sphincter and the large amount of intestinal discomfort associated with not dropping duce in days. But somehow I still get hard and we go to town. She starts out on top, then we switch. I bend her over the bed, and I even smack her ass (a ballsy move at the time, but she loved it). Due to my built up distraction, I last for what seems like FOREVER. She can't stop moaning and telling me how good it feels, and then she says what every man wants to hear "I want to make you go in my mouth." I ** love women. So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my ** out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say "tell me if you like this". Then I feel it. She stuck her finger up my ass. My brain hits the panic switch and every muscle in my entire body locks up tighter than a three year old virgin. But its too late. I take a massive, PAINFUL, PAINFUL shit, all over her parents comforter. No, you aren't understanding. I mean large. Huge. IMMENSE. Take your largest shit and multiple it by forty-two and you'll have an idea of what flew out of me. And gents, when I say flew, I don't mean "I pooped." I mean "projectile". I mean "hurricane force winds hitting an umbrella stand". And due to my condition, it comes out as a large, dark brown, smelly harpoon. I know it hit her. I didn't see it. She ran screaming "OH MY GOD OHMYGODOHMYGODEEEEEWWWWWWWW" but I always imagined that, due to her position, it hit her right in the chin. Or at least the tits. I would like to say I got up to go after her. But I heard the bathroom door shut and I just lied there. The smell hit me after a few seconds. It smelled like someone rolled a cat in shit and threw it into a tire fire. I looked down and saw, to date, the largest bowel movement I've ever heard of laying on the bed. Then I noticed the blood, and when I did, I noticed the pain. Apparently the fact that it was so large caused it to rip my ass a little bit (thought I was bleeding from the inside. This little doctors trip the next day is what taught me of my condition). There was a small pool of blood where my ass had been. A final reminder of the exact place and moment I lost my virginity. I will treasure this memory for all my days. I grab my shit with my hands and go to the downstairs bathroom. I throw around 1/3 into the toilet and flush, fearing any more will clog it and only add to my already significant woes. I stand there, holding 2/3's of my biggest shit of all time, feeling a trickle of blood flow down my leg, trying to ignore the sharp pain stabbing my rectum. I find myself wishing I had a photo of this. Anyway, I finish flushing my baby, clean off my hands, jam toilet paper between my cheeks (I skipped the bandaid) and went upstairs. I could hear my girlfriend sobbing from behind the bathroom door. I decided not to say anything to her and just keep moving. The smell in her parents room was abysmal. Its like when you take a shit and walk out of the bathroom you think "hey not so bad today," but then you walk back in to grab your magazine and go "HOLY SHIT!". It was one of those moments. The scene is burned behind my eyelids for all time. My life. My shame. My very first time smelled like a pile of dead babies. I quickly got dressed since the heat from ten thousand candles was making the room feel more like a port-a-potty. I was aware enough to grab the comforter on my way out and drag it downstairs to their washer. Also the top and bottom sheets since the blood had leaked on through all the way to mattress. Still no sign of the GF but at this point I considered it a blessing. I jammed in the washer with 3 loads worth of detergent and set it on spin, knowing that not even the hand of God would save these linens, let alone Tide and Snuggles. Then I left. I avoided my GF's calls for days until she came to my house. We had a long talk about what happened. Talk being synonymous with "breaking up with me because I shit on her". And it was all over. She promised not to tell a soul and I don't THINK she ever did. She was probably as ashamed as I was about the whole deed. But I will always this happening as the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me.
Posts: 11

11-02-2013, 11:48 AM	#36
plazahawkeye Rookie Join Date: Apr 2013 Casino cash: $10004905	Sorry thought I was in prison again... have to beat the crap out of the first guy that talks to you if you are the new guy.
Posts: 11

11-02-2013, 12:04 PM	#38
plazahawkeye Rookie Join Date: Apr 2013 Casino cash: $10004905	Darius Rucker posts on this board? Sweet!
Posts: 11

11-02-2013, 12:11 PM	#39
Canofbier ¡RIOS MIO! Join Date: Dec 2011 Location: Minneapolis Casino cash: $6076981
Posts: 4,303