If you’re an adult human being, there’s a good chance you’ve sat on the pot wondering if this is how it all ends. Whether it’s loose, giant, never ending, or – as my dear grandfather would have said, stuck sideways – it can really make you sweat.
Most of us aren’t willing to talk about such things in public, but hey – these 15 people are ready to share, if you really want the dirty details.
15. People are just so descriptive.
Yeah, this one time I hadn’t p*op in days and when I was in the loo it struck me.
I had eaten a massive amount of peanuts like an animal and I chewed them loosely.
So I ended up sh^tting what it felt like a 5 inch thick brown cactus.
14. A life-altering p*op.
Some p*ops, you feel immediate relief. Some p*ops, you feel good for an hour. Really great p*ops, you feel good for the rest of the damn day. This p*op, this one transcended all. This was a life-altering p*op. My life is divided into two halves: Before this p*op, and after this p*op. Almost a year later, I still feel good. I will probably feel good from this p*op for as long as I live. In that way, I consider this experience to be a small blessing.
After I had knee surgery, I woke up with a voracious appetite, probably due to the muscle loss, and all of the immediate physical therapy during recovery. I was downing protein shakes, eggs, toast, hearty soups, chicken, fresh fruit. I just wasn’t p*oping. It might sound crazy, but when you’re in that much pain, it’s possible to forget about p*oping.
I hadn’t even been into the bathroom very often; getting out of bed was so much work, that mostly I peed into buckets for my girlfriend to dump. Many days after surgery, I was feeling sick to my stomach. I thought it was from the pain killers and from laying in bed for so long.
I felt a great rumbling in my stomach, and my body presented me with a feeling of great urgency; I knew I better get to the bathroom quickly. I called to my girlfriend, who helped me hobble to the bathroom on crutches. Lowering myself to the toilet, balancing on crutches and my one good leg, I had no idea that my life was about to change forever.
I have never had a p*op be so loud, or explode so violently out of me. Ten seconds of terror, as my bowels evacuated like never before. Blasting p*op, water splashing back up onto me, blasts of gas releasing, followed by p*op, followed by more gas, and more p*op. I felt my stomach getting smaller. I had to brace myself. I felt tremendous amounts of mass moving through my system. For a moment, I never thought it was going to end. I was no longer in control of my fate, I sat there helpless, simply along for the ride. After what seemed like an eternity, deafening silence. It was over.
My entire body tingled. I felt lighter. I was covered in sweat, and breathing heavily. I felt high, delirious, in shock and awe. Great waves of increasing euphoria washed over me. Feelings of amazing pleasure I simply cannot describe. I felt as if I was bathing in a golden light of goodness. This was a transcending event. I felt like I had just touched the universe itself.
I down, in amazement at what lay beneath me. I simply could not believe my eyes. There was a mountain of fecal matter, filling the entire bowl, and reaching several inches up out of the water. It was almost touching my ass, and I had to be careful not to let my ball$ drop down into it. It was unreal. I can’t tell you how long I sat there staring.
The silence was only broken by my girlfriend yelling through the bathroom door. “Are you ok in there?” She became worried when I didn’t respond immediately. I was in disbelief.
I knew when I saw that mountain of poo, that chances were, this would be it: the mightiest sh^t of my life. The epic p*op that all other epic p*ops would be compared to. I knew then that I could not let this moment pass unrecorded, or I would truly regret it for the rest of my life. If I were to describe this p*op to others, nobody would believe me. I needed photographic proof; it would be a crime against everything I believe in, and the very universe for me to not take pictures.
Finally, I yelled back through the bathroom door.
Me: “Jen? Are you there?”
Girlfriend: “Yes, are you ok?”
Me: “I’m fine, I’m beyond fine. Ok, Jen. Listen very carefully. I need you to get my camera.”
Girlfriend: “WHAT!? NO!”
Me: “Jen, you have to trust me. My camera is on my desk. Put my macro lens on it, and attach my flash.”
Girlfriend: “I will NOT have any part of this!”
Me: “I need you to do this for me. Don’t make me hobble out there to get the camera myself!”
Girlfriend: “Are you f*cking serious?”
Me: “Yes. Either you get my camera, or I’ll come out there and get it.”
Girlfriend: “Fine, but ONLY because you are recovering from surgery. I hate you!”
13. One person should not have two of these stories.
I have two:
I had a deadly form of E coli. from contaminated water and my colon became inflamed and partially ruptured from the infection. Nothing like sh^tting blood 17 times in one day…also it was my grandma’s funeral so no one really payed attention to me until I kinda passed out at the reception and started throwing up blood in the bathroom of a burger king on the way home. Everyone just kinda thought I was her passing roughly.
Less serious, but one time I took a sh^t so big and painful that a I blacked out and had amnesia for about 30 seconds. I couldn’t remember where I was or anything. I was just fre*king out and my b*tt hurt. Kinda sounds like the morning after a date rape, but no, just a big p*op.
12. Food poisoning is no joke.
Yes. There was one time I had horrible diarrhea and was on the toilet several times throughout the day, each time taking over an hour. My stomach was hurting so much I thought I was going to explode. I thought that day was my last.
11. Parenting is just a never ending joy ride.
Yes. Once. I was 7. I was ridiculously constipated. My mother told me I was screaming something like “OH GOD WHY? OH GOD SAVE ME!” Then my dad came home from work with a combo pack of Learning Company Super Seeker games. I had something to look forward to, forced that sh^t out, and f*cked up the Master of Mischief. All was right again in the universe.
10. A simile for the ages.
Woke up at 3AM once felt the gurggles in my stomach telling me I needed to get out of bed and go now
Sat on the can expecting a torrent. Nothing. I couldn’t even feel anything move at all. Then another round of painful cramps and such. I squeeze and the bottom part isn’t f*cking budging at all.
I finally realize that although it might be molten liquid sh^t on the top floor, the exit is completely compacted and blocked off. At this point I have no idea what to do. I am now screaming in pain with every round of cramps and upper bowel movement. I even considered getting some kind of thin device and cramming it in there to break up the stubborn p*op party in the lower deck.
After about the 7th round, I feel a slight shift on the bottom. I know you aren’t supposed to squeeze but f*ck all that nonsense, I was in agony. I am squeezing with all of my might, veins bulging out of my neck and forehead. I know that if this doesn’t happen soon, I’m going to pull an Elvis and be found on the can with my eyes rolled into the back of my brain.
Finally a fist-sized piece of sh^t that was holding up the whole show, shoots out of my ass like Lucifer’s Hammer en route to wipe out a whole civilization of Philistines. Immediately after that, is a liquid poo firehose that had so much PSI I’m pretty sure I actually lifted off of the sh^tter by a few inches. Any harder and I would have been knocked out by hitting my head on the ceiling.
9. I guess those things were unrelated?
I almost did.
I took a normal sh^t, and as I was wiping, my chest started hurting like crazy. This happened just completely randomly. As I finished and stood up, it got worse. When I washed my hands, it was unbearable.
10 minutes later, I’m having the worst pain ever in my upper left chest area. I called my manager and supervisor for them to quickly call the ambulance, because I was having a pretty hard time breathing. I eventually get to the hospital where they discovered I had a collapsed lung. If I had tried waiting it out just 5 minutes at any point during that sequence, they said that my other lung would’ve collapsed as well.
Scary sh^t, man.
8. Why would he want to look??
One afternoon I was sitting in my friend’s dorm room. We were playing CoD4 (just released) and smoking hand-rolled Bugler cigarettes out of his window. The night before I went out drinking, and had a pretty rough stomach that day. I pull out a plastic chair to sit on, and patiently wait my turn at the controller.
At a certain point, my stomach takes a turn for the worse. There’s gurgling, but it’s not like your typical gurgle – it’s audible to my friends. My one buddy looks at me with raised eyebrows, asking unspoken if I’m ok? I just grin and grimace; my stomach is literally rumbling so hard I can feel it.
I start thinking letting off a little gas would help. I F*rt, and boy, does it reek. Have you ever had a rodent die in your home, in a wall or somewhere otherwise unreachable? That sickly sweet stench? Imagine that and methane. I’m starting to get concerned, but it really did help. I let off a little bit more gas… and sh^t myself. Enough that some sh^t dribbled down my leg. It’s almost black it’s so dark, so I’m fre*king out. Just sh^t in my friend’s chair; an awful dark color of sh^t that smells like death. I immediately jump up and run to the bathroom, struggling to hold the p*op in my pants with my hands. I reach the toilet, and at first nothing happens. Just the most intense stomach cramps and pain I’ve ever felt.
Suddenly, I start F*rting. And F*rting. And sh^tting. And sh^tting, sh^tting, sh^tting until the end of time. I am not exaggerating when I say to you that it took almost a minute to dissipate. Don’t be underwhelmed here – sh^tting, 60 seconds is an eternity. Count to ten. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. So on so forth. Imagine while you’re sitting there at your computer chair that your insides are literally blowing out with no sign of stopping. When it stopped, I almost fell off the toilet I felt so physically drained. I looked down to see what was going on, and not only was this the darkest poop I’ve ever taken, but there was blood. Everywhere. All over the walls, all over the toilet, behind me on the f*cking commode… It was f*cking everywhere. I just sh^t blood, and now I’m f*cking scared. I clean up, but my an*s is just dripping. It’s like a leaky faucet – just dripping. It won’t stop. I wipe again and it’s partial blood with feces.
I call my friend in; he’s cracking up. I tell him what’s going on and he wants to look. I tell him to hold on a minute, but gather what strength I have left and leave the stall. He walks in, almost gags at the stench and waves his hand to clear it away – obviously to no avail. We both look at the toilet, and it’s f*cking demolished. Not a single spot of porcelain is left untouched. I do not jest when I say the underneath of the lid was a solid black-brown stain from f*cking bounced-back fecal matter.
I ended up having salmonella, and that was but the first of a three week hell.
7. It’s never a good thing when you start sweating.
Late for the party.
I was 12, playing some Game Cube game during the day. I had a sudden urge to sh^t, so I proceeded to head to the bathroom. Once inside, I started to put some pressure to let it out.
It’s not coming out.
5 minutes pass, and I’m starting to feel the pain of those who are constipated. I start sweating and realize I need to put more effort into sh^tting this sh^t of a steel-rod out of my ass. I start straining but to no avail. After 10 minutes, the stomach pain is pretty bad.
I decided to yell out and groan, knowing that letting out some voice will actually help when sh^tting out. So I start groaning loudly.
The turtle popped out its neck.
It’s starting to come out, but it’s not enough. The cylinder object was so hard, I realized that I couldn’t “cut” it when I stopped pushing some way through. This was the moment I realized why people didn’t want to go to jail – sh^t’s painful man.
Sweating profusely, I let out the loudest roar to sh^t out rest of the diamond-hard sh^t.
Clunk
I swear, I could hear the angels sing. All the pain and suffering was gone. I proceeded to roll around some toilet paper and wipe.
What. The. f*ck. There’s blood. I mean a lot of blood.
I started to panic and stood up, looked down at the toilet bowl. It’s the Red Sea, figuratively…and I thought to myself: “So this is what a period looks like…woah…” (Note): I’m a male
Then the pain struck me in my rear end. This is how I die. Did not walk or sh^t for the rest of the day.
TL;DR Understood why people didn’t want to go to jail and had my first period.
6. THREE WEEKS?
When having my second child, I had a scheduled C-section, also my second. For three weeks after being discharged from the hospital, I did not have a bowel movement. I had been taking pain medications, which only worsen the problem. By the time I realized the severity, it was too late for stool softeners. It had to come out. I spent hours on the toilet, straining, and feeling it continue to build up in my lower abdomen. I went to bed that night exhausted and defeated. The next day I woke up determined to end the problem on my own, without help. I donned some plastic gloves and proceeded to reach up into my body and begin removing the blockage one piece at a time. It was incredibly painful and exhausting but once the process was started, it finally proceeded on its own. I spent the next 12 hours (mostly on the toilet) going back and forth from the bathroom. In total, I lost about ten pounds of weight that day. It was the worst episode of constipation in my life and I usually bring this up to anyone I know that has recently given birth by C-section. The hospital really should make sure the bowels are moving normally before discharge, in my opinion.
5. It’s almost like birthing a baby.
I had been on Vicodin for a few days and if you’re not aware, opioids cause severe constipation. When I stopped taking it, I had probably a 5-10 pound, thick log in my colon. I couldn’t push it out, because my as$hole was too tight. I had to go though, I couldn’t take a laxative and wait, my stomach was in severe pain. I actually tried to grab it, poke at it, it was like as hard as a rock. I got in the bathtub, while in a full panic, thinking my intestines were going to rupture. I thought the water might help my as$hole relax and loosen or break up the log. I was in so much pain and so afraid, I was willing to sh^t in the tub. There was no use though. It wasn’t working. The thought in my mind was that I was going to have to call 911 and have paramedics come to my house, because I had a huge log in my ass that wouldn’t come out. The thought was horrifying, but so was the thought of dying from a ruptured colon. I decided to try one last time. I sat on the toilet and all I can imagine, is that it was like trying to give birth. Finally and amazingly, it did start to come out. It stretched my as$hole like never before. It must have been partially in the septic tank while still coming out, in one huge piece.
Finally it was over. I was exausted. The log I gave birth to in the toilet had to be separated into pieces in order to flush. It was disgusting and I felt so dirty and nasty, but the relief of evacuating my colon far outweighed any nastiness, hurt ego, or loosened as$hole I obtained from the experience.
Advice, if you’re taking opioids, take stool sofeners and laxatives if needed. Definitely the sofeners though.
EDIT: Wow, I can’t believe how many people have been interested in my sh^tty story!
A few additional details I omitted: I rubbed a generous amount of Vaseline around my rectum and anus. The thought was it would help the monstrous poo slide out easier and also protect my an*s from literally being teared a new one.
I could literally see my intestines in full spasm mode from the outside of my abdominal area, I could also see the highly increased blood flow from my heart to my intestines, with each heartbeat. It was quite surreal and likely much of the reason I was so exhausted afterwards.
It DID, in fact occur to me, that I should take pictures of the resulting fecal matter, however, I was so exhausted and sick from the even’t, I just wanted to rid my toilet and my life of it and never see it again. In other words, to those who’ve asked, no pictures, sorry!
I did not weigh myself before and after, unfortunately. It would have been interesting to see exactly what the weight was, but I believe I am not exaggerating when I say it was likely 5-10 pounds. I’m going to guess that equates to 62.5-125 Courics
4. No one wants to die at work.
Once, at work, someone brought in red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. They were so good, I ate like 3 or 4. A few hours later, the cream cheese started to go through me, so I went into the bathroom and let go. See, the secret to red velvet cake is red food dye, so when I was (about) finished, I looked into the toilet to admire my work, and of course it was bright red, like bloody looking. I thought I was having multiple organ failure, and I was pissed because I was going to die at work. Took me a minute to realize what it actually was.
3. So much for ever eating Burger King again.
Please, read to your bowel’s discontent.
I was in Germany and was feeling ill from all the Burger Kings I had eaten. On the way to the bus station, it was clear that I wasn’t gonna make it back to the hotel without soiling myself, and a cack attack was imminent. I had to find respite for the sh^te. Luckily, a McDonalds was around the corner, which, from past visits had toilet facililites. I ran downstairs, and there was nobody else there so I could despoil the porcelain throne in peace.
What happened next is the most foul thing that has ever happened to me. Imagine a pneumatic drill, combined with a hosepipe on sprinkler setting. There you have the cackastrophic combustion of t*rd in this tiny McDonalds stall. My ass cheeks clapped together louder than an excited Latino man with maracas. I realised that there was no f*cking way that I was gonna do that again without trying to cover it up. At this point, the stench was worse than putrefying dead animals sautéed in sulphur.
So, I flushed the toilet, and my bowels simultaneously. Once again a clusterbum of sh^t particles flew out of my ass at Mach 5, only slightly m*ffled by the churning of the cistern. But the churning of my stomach began to get louder. I decided to use the special sh^tting technique because by now the foul odour was starting to make me feel woozy. I tried to breathe through my shirt but it had permeated all my clothes, and I was covered in a cold sweat that tasted salty and slightly rancid. And then it happened. The biggest most sh^t-flingingly ass napalm strike F*rtthrower excrement explosion thunder eruption ever known to man, so called “Crackatoa” took place. The look of my face must have been strained to say the least, apart from slightly speckled with fine pieces of faeces, but also immense joy and relief, like I had just given birth to a strapping young baby made of sweat and man-dung. I had just laid the mightiest fudge dragon ever known to mankind in its very own water bath.
So, I began the laborious process of wiping my posterior that had been peppered with the backsplash of a putrid t*rd splurge, for what seemed like hours. When I finished, I looked at the loo. It was a f*cking disgrace. No joke, I had laid pipe worse than an aid worker in the Indian state of Madhya-Pradesh. Not only were there flecks of excreta all around the rim, but also the chutepipe was stained in what can only be described fetid deuce-juice akin to the rank mouth of an open sewer during the outbreak of the black plague. Splotches and traces of miasmic plop littered the area which I had bombarded with my b*tt barrage of burning desire.
As I stood to survey the scene, my musty chocolate chud stared back at me, and it was at this point I realised that I would be there all day trying to wipe that ungodly mess up. so I formulated a plan. I would run for it. The only problem was, my defecation relief had obviously brought attention to my stall. There was, what I assumed, a janitor right outside. I had probably cried out in anguish during my struggle for survival. I put my shaking hand, that had become covered in a moist film of perspiration, into my pocket, and frantically fumbled around in my wallet for a note. I grabbed a 20, and was ready to breach and enter.
I slammed the door open, washed my hands as quickly as possible, and tentatively edged towards the exit, just as the unassuming janitor moved in to check the situation. My face dropped. I don’t know what he must have felt like, but unlocking that door was like opening the gates of hell’s sewage factory. A waft of repugnant, decaying stench hit him, and he doubled over as he reached the cubicle. This airblast must’ve been like a silage heatwave, because I heard others in different cubicles begin to choke and gasp for untainted air. One customer ran past be after washing his hands and his eyes were watering. My gaze returned to the janitor, and to my horror, he was almost there. And then he saw it. I could tell by the look on his face that he had never seen something so horrifying in his life. He was bent crooked like someone whose back had just been broken with a giant log of human filth.
So I fled.
During my escape, I threw the 20€ bill onto the janitors little plate, and started to run up the stairs as fast as I could. Screams of “ACH SCHEISSE, BITTE DAS SAUBER MACHEN!!!” [OH sh^t, PLEASE MAKE IT CLEAN!!!] echoed as I sprinted as fast as my flimsy, quivering legs would carry me. I felt like a hospital patient fleeing from my bed as I ran back to the bus station in a dazed state. I spent the next few hours back at the hotel nursing and caressing my violated arsehole with baby wipes.
And that is now why I call an awful toilet trip “McDonalds-ing”. Never again.
TL;DR Cacophany of butthole puckering and spluttering, effectively carpet-bombed the bowl with rancid putrefaction from the depths of my bowels in a Maccy D’s.
EDIT: I hope I didn’t put you off your food 🙂
2. MANY TIMES?!
Yes, many times.
The one time a few years ago I was at a friend of my family’s house with my mom and brother. My mom had been friends with this lady and her husband for a long time now, since I was a little kid. Anyway, she invites us over for dinner one night, since she knew her husband was working late and her two children were both going to be out. So anyway, for dinner she made the greasiest, cheesiest, biggest lasagna with sausage that I’d ever seen. I didn’t want to eat it, but obviously I couldn’t say no. And then for desert, I don’t remember exactly what it was, but it was some sort of heavy chocolatey cake thing.
So then after dinner we go into the living room, which is right next to the kitchen where we just ate. We turn the TV on to watch Ted Kennedy’s funeral. (Going over to this lady’s house was anything but fun).
About 40 minutes into it, I get one of the worst stomachaches of my life. Along with it is an intense feeling of needing to sh^t. I try to just hold it in while telepathically trying to tell my mom that “we need to leave, right f*cking now”, but no luck. About 30 minutes after I started feeling sick, I cannot wait any longer and run off to the only bathroom in the house that I know the location of, which happens to be a tiny half-bath next to the kitchen and living room. Right after sitting down I unleash a torrent of sh^t. I’ve had diarrhea before, but this was extraordinarily worse than any other time. After all the sh^t pours out, I still feel horrible, and I know there’s more to come. So I’m just sitting on the toilet, 15 feet away from everyone in the living room, waiting to sh^t some more. After about 10 minutes round 2 comes, almost as bad as before. I wait a little longer, since I still don’t feel that great, but obviously by now everyone was wondering where the hell I was. My mom knocks on the door and asks if everything is okay. Everything was far from okay, but I just say I’m fine and I’ll be out in a minute, since i couldn’t exactly shout out that I had diarrhea, since everyone else would hear me.
At this point I’m trying to figure out what the hell I should do, since I can’t exactly spend the next hour in my mother’s friend’s bathroom. I decide, after a little more sh^t comes out, that I would try and signal to my mom that I wasn’t feeling well and that we had to go home, hopefully before round 3. I wait a few minutes for the smell to dissipate, then I leave and sit down on the couch in the living room. Her friend is in the kitchen getting a drink, so I whisper to my mom that I’m sick and want to go home. She waits a few minutes, then tells her friend that it’s getting late and she wants to go home, then spending ten minutes saying goodbye while I’m clenching my b*tt in agony. Thankfully we made it home before I got sick again.
It was the most traumatic and embarrassing moment of my life. I’m sure that friend knew exactly what was going on, too.
Then this other time a couple weeks ago I ate some ice cream, and it must not have sat well with me, since about 20 minutes later I am on the toilet, with a terrible, terrible stomachache, trying to sh^t, except it won’t come out. Then after about 25 minutes of agony and regret for not bringing my laptop in with my, a f*ckton of liquid sh^t comes pouring out of my as$hole. I had never p*oped so much and for so long in my life. It was like my ass was throwing up.
Last month I had some really bad constipation problems too. It all started after eating something with black beans in it. I went to go to the bathroom a little while afterward, thinking it was just going to be a normal sh^t, but nope. I was there for about an hour, just p*oping out these little pieces of sh^t. It went on forever, I was just sitting there wondering what the hell was going on. This went on for about a week, not being able to p*op properly, and only p*oping tiny little pieces. It was awful. The whole time I felt a bigger piece just sitting there, totally not moving. I thought it was never going to come out. Then finally the whole thing came out about a week later. Luckily that was the only time I’d been constipated that bad and for that long, it’s not fun. I get diarrhea a lot though.
EDIT: Can someone tell me how to make bullet points or a numbered list on here?
1. I feel like a lot of these stories might begin at BWW.
It all started when I went to a Buffalo Wild Wings. Now for those of you who don’t know, BWW is a sports restaurant that specializes in making everything on its menu as hot as any person could want it. Since I was not going to get the opportunity to eat at one for a while, I decided to take full advantage of the situation and pigged out profusely. Everything I ordered was hot. The wings were hot. The nachos were hot. Even the salad was five alarm spicy. It was glorious.
Well the next day rolls around, and right on cue I feel the normal rumbly in my tummy that heralds the daily constitutional. I grabbed some quality reading material, wandered on up to my bathroom and settled in to get down to business.
Now I am no stranger to spicy foods, and subsequently I am no stranger to experiencing fiery capsaicin death ass. However what transpired in that restroom is unrivaled by any ring of fire before or since. It was as if I had invoked the wrath of the Sun God Ra himself, and he had chosen to have me sh^t a 1000 blazing suns. The Eye of Sauron would have been an accurate description of my poor as$hole at the moment.
The pain was such that I thought that I had somehow managed to literally tear my sphincter, and I actually fell off the toilet I was in so much pain. It ended with me rolling on the floor whimpering and clutching at my an*s in agony cursing whatever cruel deity saw fit to give man’s butt-hole capsaicin receptors. Never again I swore. Never again.
Yeah, you just read ALL of that. Are you a better person because of it? That I can’t answer, but what I can say is now you’re much more informed about what’s going on with other people’s bowels. So that’s something!
But if you want to share, I guess we’re willing to read that, too!
Leave your story in the comments!