Your worst deuce experience? NWS?

[lambo]

to top it off my two buddies thought it would be funny to huck pinecones at me.

Seems perfectly logical to me.

-Dude. I have to poop.
-wtf... I'm driving dude
-No like really, stop the car!
(•_•)
( •_•)>⌐■-■
(⌐■_■)
-Are you shitting me?? YYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH

fixed

[nickflic3]

@nickflic3 that pretty gross bro. Hope u made him sit on everything you had in the car. I fell worse for you than your friend that blew up his pants. You sir are a good friend.

haha yeah took a bunch of the shop towels and he stuffed em in his pants/on the seat. Thank God we had to go semi formal and he was wearing jeans instead of shorts!

-Dude. I have to poop.
-wtf... I'm driving dude
-No like really, stop the car!
(•_•)
( •_•)>⌐■-■
(⌐■_■)
-Are you shitting me?? YYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHH

fixed

:rofl:

[urbancynic]

Back when I was 16 or 17 I went to church with a couple friends of mine - can't remember why.

After the youth group meeting I felt the need, so I ran to the restroom. It was a small room with 2 stalls and a urinal. I barely made it and let go a deuce unlike any I'd ever done without the aid of Milk of Magnesia.

It was so bad and vile that the first 2 people that walked in to use the restroom turned right around and left without using the bathroom.

My friends said that the smell permeated the entire hallway.

At that time the church was being transferred from one religious group to another, so they didn't care - actually thought it was funny. We then ran around in the large room where the other group was meeting and screwed around - pissed them off. Then we went to talk to the youth counselor and talked to him for awhile. It became time to leave when one of my friends decided to tell him how hot his sister was based on a photo.

There was another time I was out offroading in the desert and had to drop one after I'd eaten Taco Bell for lunch. Had to stop on the trail and do the deed.

I decided the best place to do it was on top of an ant hill. So I crouched over and let loose. Luckily I had lots of kleenex and paper napkins from fast food places in my truck so I could wipe.

[e30jake]

I shit in a Gatorade bottle at soccer camp to prove I could. Got it halfway out and stuck the bottle over it. The middle section was a tight fit so I had to push it down in with a leaf. Not the worst experience, but a cool story bro.

[Vivek]

A girl who really needed to shiit and all she had was hard tacos from taco bell. And a sick twisted sense of humor.

:shock: I leave the top off my vert 100% of the time in the summer. And you realize that the word "shit" is neither blanked out nor frowned upon on this forum, right? :up: :)

[TurboJake]

holy - le- fuck.

I have tears. there is gold in this thread, but honestly. once you mentally picture this, the lulz are many.

Just imagine being the dog. Sleeping away doing your own thing. With your sensitive nose. Dreaming little puppy dreams of frolicking in the grass, chasing a ball. Doing happy doggy things.

And being awoken to shit being blasted in your face.

[lambo]

Just imagine being the dog. Sleeping away doing your own thing. With your sensitive nose. Dreaming little puppy dreams of frolicking in the grass, chasing a ball. Doing happy doggy things.

And being awoken to shit being blasted in your face.

Dude....they eat their own shit...

[TurboJake]

Dude....they eat their own shit...

Not all dogs.

I dunno how my dog thinks of it. If he finds some, he pees on it and runs away as quick as he can. It's like he thinks he stole something, and runs away as quick as he can.

He's never eaten it though. Thankfully he didn't freak out and go try to dry himself off by rubbing all over everything. He just got off the bed, hung his head in shame, and waited for a bath.

Also, it wasn't solid shit.... It was flat out liquid spray man. Like god damn WD40 from a hose.

[myinfernalbmw]

Ah fuck repressed memories are returning. Mine starts when I was ~12 years old. Now let me preface this by saying that up until this point I had pretty much remained an at-home-toilet only child. I had the common fear of shitting in public like many, but to another level entirely. My prepubescent ass had probably touched less toilets than my dick size in inches. I hadn't shit throughout my entire elementary school experience other than at my house aside from the one very rare emergency instance in the 5th grade. I had become a master at holding back the Huxtables for hours until I could reach the sanctity of my own throne.

So, I was up at my cousins cabin and we were all out having a bonfire at the neighbors. The neighbors had no running water, so when the smore induced shits manifested, the outhouse was the nearest option. Now being an expert in deuce retention, I was in a completely panicked state when I realized it was coming regardless of how tightly I could clinch my brown eyed willy and the thought of the outhouse was literally scaring the shit out of me. I instantly deduced that the number of steps back to my cousins place equalled diarrhea in my pants. So I did the nervous speed walk-run to the outhouse while everyone was slightly confused at my disappearance. I had to walk up a hill though a wooded path to reach the rickety shit shack and by the time my hand hit the door handle it started to breach my sphincter. I was able to wrestle down my pants and boxers without a mess and achieved an extremely violent, but clean getaway. I was so relieved that I had managed to make it without shitting my pants. The highest of highs turned into the lowest of lows when I started feeling around for wiping material. There was a mental flashback to the roll sitting on the picnic table next to the grahams and mallows back at the bonfire. The shitter is not stocked with TP at all. Violins shrieked in my head. I was totally fucked. I wasn't experienced in this situation. I had been pampered with the comfort of a well acquainted toilet and a roll of quilted two-ply within hands reach since I could wipe my own ass. I probably sat there for 15 minutes, contemplating my next move, knowing people were probably wondering what the fuck was taking me so long and also realizing that my trip to the can was a solo run without the community TP. So I said fuck it, pulled up trou and ran with a muddy ass the 300 or so yards back to my cousins place. I got into their bathroom and realized that in the process of running with a swampy shit covered ass, I had officially destroyed every article of clothing from the waist down. My 501s had both legs full of runoff, my socks looked like a shitty abstract art piece and my new all-star low tops probably looked like my asshole. Clean inside, but a ring of liquid shit around the rim. In my quest to save myself the shame and embarrassment of shitting my pants I had achieved the exact opposite. Looking back today I got shit all over potential wiping materials that could have allowed me to have escape with minimal collateral damage. Instead of walking away minus one sock I lost the majority of an outfit. I threw my clothes in a plastic bag and hid them in the bottom of my duffel bag until I got home. That was the day I learned how to do my own laundry. I've only told a select handful of people this story.

[evandael]

That reminds me,
Way back when me and my gf just started dating we were home alone and she had just gone in the bathroom, I get the urged to shit so I go to her parents bathroom and drop a deuce, successful poop and wiping, then I go to flush and it is acting
Clogged, so then I have to ask for the plunger, super embarressed, and I still can't get it to go down, then she comes in and shows me that you have to hold down the lever for like 8 seconds -_- so embarressed hahahha.

dude i know the feeling. i clogged the crapper at my first girlfriends house so many times they bought a new plunger for the upstairs bathroom. the first time i had to ask for it was a true exercise in humility.


i think all the poopage was due to the vast quantities of spicy, fibrous, and buttery food her mom made for me. i miss that woman and the fine 3 ply toilet paper she bought.

[gwb72tii]

i miss that woman and the fine 3 ply toilet paper she bought.

[VANOS714]

Portable toilets are the worst, I had to use one when I was at the junk yard when it was like 80 degrees out. I came out with tears in my eyes because it smelled so bad in there. There was shit and urine all over the place. I almost puked as I held in my breath for a few minutes.

[Raxe]

Ah fuck repressed memories are returning. Mine starts when I was ~12 years old. Now let me preface this by saying that up until this point I had pretty much remained an at-home-toilet only child. I had the common fear of shitting in public like many, but to another level entirely. My prepubescent ass had probably touched less toilets than my dick size in inches. I hadn't shit throughout my entire elementary school experience other than at my house aside from the one very rare emergency instance in the 5th grade. I had become a master at holding back the Huxtables for hours until I could reach the sanctity of my own throne.

So, I was up at my cousins cabin and we were all out having a bonfire at the neighbors. The neighbors had no running water, so when the smore induced shits manifested, the outhouse was the nearest option. Now being an expert in deuce retention, I was in a completely panicked state when I realized it was coming regardless of how tightly I could clinch my brown eyed willy and the thought of the outhouse was literally scaring the shit out of me. I instantly deduced that the number of steps back to my cousins place equalled diarrhea in my pants. So I did the nervous speed walk-run to the outhouse while everyone was slightly confused at my disappearance. I had to walk up a hill though a wooded path to reach the rickety shit shack and by the time my hand hit the door handle it started to breach my sphincter. I was able to wrestle down my pants and boxers without a mess and achieved an extremely violent, but clean getaway. I was so relieved that I had managed to make it without shitting my pants. The highest of highs turned into the lowest of lows when I started feeling around for wiping material. There was a mental flashback to the roll sitting on the picnic table next to the grahams and mallows back at the bonfire. The shitter is not stocked with TP at all. Violins shrieked in my head. I was totally fucked. I wasn't experienced in this situation. I had been pampered with the comfort of a well acquainted toilet and a roll of quilted two-ply within hands reach since I could wipe my own ass. I probably sat there for 15 minutes, contemplating my next move, knowing people were probably wondering what the fuck was taking me so long and also realizing that my trip to the can was a solo run without the community TP. So I said fuck it, pulled up trou and ran with a muddy ass the 300 or so yards back to my cousins place. I got into their bathroom and realized that in the process of running with a swampy shit covered ass, I had officially destroyed every article of clothing from the waist down. My 501s had both legs full of runoff, my socks looked like a shitty abstract art piece and my new all-star low tops probably looked like my asshole. Clean inside, but a ring of liquid shit around the rim. In my quest to save myself the shame and embarrassment of shitting my pants I had achieved the exact opposite. Looking back today I got shit all over potential wiping materials that could have allowed me to have escape with minimal collateral damage. Instead of walking away minus one sock I lost the majority of an outfit. I threw my clothes in a plastic bag and hid them in the bottom of my duffel bag until I got home. That was the day I learned how to do my own laundry. I've only told a select handful of people this story.

Brutal

[Fusion]

[LJ851]

ok.
Early in my drinking career, i went out with a friend (dude, no homo) in his Fiat X 19 and commenced to down several ciders on tap at a couple different bars. So far so good. As we were heading home out of Atlanta i felt some noticeable seismic activity in my abdomen and played it cool thinking "i got this". A few miles down the road images of pompeii start playing though my mind and i see a Marta bus stop with a little paved turn off and just down an embankment from there, a Waffle House. Ok. Dude, i need hit the restroom NOW, pull over.
We pull to a stop and i exit with a pace Edwin Moses would have impressed by. Straight through the front door, no i don't want to order anything and there better not be a line at the door.
Pressure is rising at a square of my proximity to the toilet, i am just beginning to feel my timing might be less than perfect.
I speedwalk though the WH at 1 AM, bathroom door firmly in my sight, jump through the door already unbuttoning my pants and turning around at the same time when the bomb went off.

Oh My God.

I was previously unaware that my asshole could project a spray pattern of that magnitude. Seriously. I hesitate to even call it an area, really one end of the restroom was covered in shit. In the razor sharp clarity of my drunken stupor i immediately realized there was no practical solution for all parties involved.
I tore off my underwear, wiped what i could off my ass, and strutted out of there like nothing happened.
I still feel bad for whoever had to clean that up.