 | Xtal 2 years ago
My name is Kristina. I am 24
years old, married, no kids, 5'4", around 125 lbs, graduated from college
last year and got married this year to my college boyfriend, one cat, work at a
boring office job and live in a tiny apartment but we're happy. :)
My story happened about a year
ago. My hubby and I had just gotten back from our honeymoon. I had been back at
work for a week and the day had been long and busy and I hadn't had time for an
afternoon break. As a result I had been holding my bowels and bladder for some
hours and was growing more desperate to relieve myself by the minute. Just
before five o'clock I got a text from my hubby that he might be able to get off
a little early so we could have some "alone time" before dinner.
Since we had waited until our wedding night that part of our relationship was
still very new and exciting and it immediately took my mind off of my need to
relieve myself. Rather than using the work bathrooms I headed straight for my
car instead.
After a few minutes driving,
however, I was quickly reminded of my need - and badly. I squeezed as hard as I
could and clenched every muscle in my lower body to hold in my pee and poop,
but I knew I couldn't wait much longer. I thought about stopping at a store or
gas station to use the bathroom, but wanted to use my own toilet at home
instead. I had to drive with one hand so I could hold my crotch to help hold my
pee, but that didn't help the back side and before long I was turtle heading
and starting to panic. But I was only a few minutes from the apartment.
I made it to the apartment but
still had to drive back to our building and go over multiple speed bumps. I had
to decide between driving slow over them to avoid bumps that might make me lose
control or going fast so I could get to the toilet sooner. I decided to go
somewhere in between because I was about to lose all control. The first speed
bump went OK, so I hit the second one a little faster. That caused a bigger
bounce than I had expected and felt a spurt of pee escape into my pants before
I could regain control. But it also caused my turtle head to push harder than I
could control and I felt the turd "touch cotton" and push against my
panties, only to be stopped by the car seat.
It was a solid poo so it had nowhere
to go and I just sat there, heart pounding, skin flushed hot and red, with a
turd holding my anus open, pushing but not moving, knowing my panties would at
least have a noticeable stain on them to go with the wet spot up front. I
didn't know what to do, my brain had almost shut down. Then suddenly I hit the
next speed bump - I had been so out of it in a daze that I had lost track of
time or distance but was still driving subconsciously. The next speed bump
caused another spurt of pee, bigger, and I felt wetness on my fingertips and felt
my anus push hard again but still the car seat stopped its momentum.
I shook myself from my daze.
That was the last speed bump. I hit the gas and whipped into an open space near
my door, grabbed my purse, used all of my willpower to suck the turd back up inside
me and steel my nerves to run inside to the toilet and sweet relief. I jumped
out of the car, slammed the door, and took off running - OK, waddling with my
butt clenched and one hand in my crotch as fast as I could move - toward our
door, which is thankfully on the first floor. I knew I only had seconds.
I got to our door, unlocked
it, hurried inside, dropped my purse on the counter, and made a bee line for
the bathroom. I was almost to the bathroom when I heard my husband call out,
"Hey, babe," as he came out from around the corner in the kitchen. I
hadn't even noticed his car and was hoping I would get home first so I could
avoid having him see me in this state, on the verge of a total accident with
some damage already done. I said, "No time, gotta go!" and shut the
bathroom door behind me, my body barely holding on.
I turned towards the toilet
when my body gave a mighty push that made me almost double over and I felt my
skin go cold and I knew that I was literally a millisecond from having an
accident and that there was nothing I could do to prevent it. It was going to
happen, period. And so I did. My bowels pushed and my muscles did not respond
to stop it and I felt the turd rush out, hit my panties, meet resistance, and
my body pushed harder and my panties began to tent out as the poop began to
spread and pile up in them. Time stood still for me. Another turd followed,
softer but still solid, and the weight grew and my panties and pants began to
sag until my bowels were empty and my panties were full. I then realized that I
was wetting myself, the pee hissing into my pants and soaking down my legs and
onto the bathmat underneath me. I turned and caught sight of myself in the
bathroom mirror - wetness soaked down my legs and crotch. I turned around and
saw the giant bulge under my soaking wet butt. I was hot and tingling and in
shock and disgusted and amazed and surprised and curious all at the same time.
It had been years since I'd had an accident and I had never pooped my pants
that I could remember.
I was shaken out of my daze by
a knock at the bathroom door. "You OK,babe?" It was my hubby. I was
shocked back into reality. "I, ummm..." I stammered. "What? You
OK?" he asked again. I said, "I didn't... I had..." He said,
"Can I come in, babe? Are you
OK?" I wanted to shout
"NO! DON'T COME IN!" but I just stood there still kind of in shock.
The door nob turned, the door creaked open, and in popped my hubby's head.
"You OK?" I stood facing him, my tan pants obviously peed in. I
mumbled, "I didn't make it in time. I had an accident. I'm so sorry."
and I started crying. He pushed open the door and took me in his arms and held
me as I sobbed, patting my back saying, "It's OK, accidents happen."
Then he must have smelled because he asked, "Did you also... poop?" I
just nodded on his shoulder, cried some more, and said, "Yes, I did."
He said, "It's OK, let's get you cleaned up."
He was so nice and gentle and
understanding as he helped my slowly pull off my soaked pants and then my very
full panties, with its ball of brown, smelly poop the size of a grapefruit
hanging in them after it briefly stuck to my butt and then dropped off into the
panties as we lowered them down. I dumped the poop into the toilet, dropped the
soaking, soiled panties into the trash can, and began wiping poop off of my
butt and thighs. Hubby turned on the shower for me to warm it up and helped me
out of the rest of my clothes. I asked him to join me to help. So we got into
the shower, he helped was me clean, and then we, well, I thanked him profusely
for his help and kindness. It didn't necessarily feel... terrible when I had
poop in my pants, as a matter of fact, it was... interesting. I was thinking of
trying it again independently to see if I was just delusional or if I really
felt it.
A few days after my accident I
thought back about it and realized that I shared the initial feeling that Mavis
had - that it wasn't necessarily unpleasant and that it was, in fact, pretty
interesting. I mulled it over and dismissed the thought, but it kept coming
back to me. Every once in a while I would be on the toilet having a BM and
would think back to my accident and the feeling of it filling my panties and
would get a tingle and my heart would beat faster.
Finally, a few weeks later, I
could take it no more. One day while hubby was out playing golf and I was home
alone, I deliberately stood in the bathtub in just a pair of old panties and,
after much pushing and convincing myself, I pooped my panties on purpose and
found that I kind of enjoyed the sensation, the weight, the warmth and
smoothness. From that point on for almost a year now I have deliberately held
my poop and had "accidents" when home alone
About two or three times per
month. Sometimes the holding leads to close calls at work or out shopping or
even at home waiting for hubby to leave, and I've wound up with more than a few
skid marks before intended and one time had a legitimate accident in a store
bathroom while trying to hold it for later.
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