Hi Arthur, Grace here again. I’d like to tell you about another panty-pooping incident from my younger and more foolish days. In the interests of full disclosure, I should probably describe this one as “90-95% true”, because I was pretty hammered at the time and can’t remember all the finer details, so I’ve had to fill in the gaps with educated guesswork. The important stuff is all true though.
This happened about three years after my accident on the aeroplane which I have already related in my previous post. By that time I was ‘going’ exclusively in my panties, an activity which you might think would get old after a while, but it became almost an obsessive habit for me. I discovered the best way to clean my messy panties (bleach), and the best colour of panties to buy (white, because of the bleach!)
So, three years after the aeroplane incident, I was working (temporarily) at a travel agency while trying to find something better. I had this friend there, Michael, who was an absolute riot and we would keep each other entertained while business was slow. Michael knew about my little habit, because after a couple of ‘accidents’ in the office, he guessed that I was doing it deliberately! He thought it was pretty gross, but he was a very non-judgmental type and took a ‘whatever makes you happy’ kind of attitude towards it.
I spent a lot of time with Michael and his boyfriend Ian during that time. They had quite a large circle of friends, mostly gay, and I was often invited to parties at which, not surprisingly, I consistently failed to meet anybody worth dating. Oh yes, I forgot to mention, Denis and I had broken up quite a long time before. Great sex, and even greater kissing, but he was a lazy sod and could be pretty selfish and mean at times. And after Denis there was Rob, but he was a bit of a tosser too.
So there I was, single and sex-starved, and going to all these parties where the men would ignore me and the women (well some of them) would come on to me! No offence to any of them, but I just wasn’t in that market. Finally, however, I did manage to meet one nice straight and single chap, Ellis, who I think was brought along purely for my benefit! Brother of one of Michael’s friends I think. Bit boring (stockbroker), but decent-looking and quite likeable, and we ended up snogging in a corner. And then he offered to take me home.
I should mention that I had got into the habit of holding on to my poo as long as possible. Sometimes this got me constipated, which wasn’t fun, and sometimes, if I ate the right sort of things, it led to accidents, which usually occurred in reasonable proximity to a toilet, but sometimes not. This particular night, I was feeling distinctly ‘accident-prone’!
Ellis was planning to drive me home, but I observed that he was pretty drunk, as indeed was I myself, so we decided to take the tube instead. While we were waiting, I got extremely desperate, and when we boarded the train, even before I could sit down, I felt my poo coming out. And that was it, I just stood there and filled up my knickers right in front of my potential new boyfriend! And OH MY GOD there was a lot of it! To tell you the truth I was thrilled to be having another public accident (though there were only two other people in the same carriage as us). But I was also really embarrassed to be having it in front of Ellis!
As pissed as he was (note to Americans: that means ‘drunk’ in England!), he didn’t actually notice for a couple of minutes, by which point we were halfway to the next stop. But then he started complaining about the smell, and I confessed to the dirty deed. And bless his cotton socks, he was ever such a gentleman about it. He was all concerned and asking if I was okay, and what could he do to help, and so on. And really all I wanted to do was play with myself, but I didn’t dare to do that in front of Ellis because I figured it would gross him out. To ‘test the waters’ I asked him if he wanted to see what I’d done, and he just stared at me as if I had grown antlers! So that answered THAT question.
Oh I should mention that I was wearing a really short, shiny black dress that night – one of my favourite party dresses. It was long enough to hide my accident, but only just. So we got off the train and went up to street level, not far from the flat where I lived, and Ellis saw me to the front door. I invited him in, but he declined! See, I told you – boring.
If I had been sober, I’d have gone upstairs at this point, and cleaned up, and gone to bed. Or maybe just gone to bed, braving the inevitable complaints about the smell from my flatmate Angie next morning. But I wasn’t sober; far from it! And so this thought occurred to me that I would go and visit my old friend Tara from uni. God knows what I was thinking! I suppose I just wanted to wander around the streets of London some more with my knickers all full of poo.
So that’s what I did! I walked about a mile, I suppose, to Tara’s halls of residence. Yes, she was still at uni, working on her Masters. Only problem was, I couldn’t remember what room she was in! I tried a couple, but found only strangers. So I went back downstairs to the lobby, and then, feeling rather tired, I crashed on a couple of comfy chairs that didn’t have arms so I could lie across them both in a semi-foetal position.
What I didn’t realise, being somewhat the worse for wear, was that my very full knickers could be clearly seen by anybody walking past! God knows how many of those students saw me like that, and no doubt had a good laugh at my expense, and probably took photos! All I know is that when I woke up, feeling rather cold and not very well, at about four o’clock in the morning, someone had sellotaped a piece of A4 paper to me, and on it was written in black marker: “Toilet-training? Who needs it?” Hilarious.
But at least I hadn’t got into any trouble. I thought about calling Tara’s mobile, but I didn’t think she would appreciate being woken up at that hour of the morning. So I walked back to my flat, took off my dress, and crawled into bed. I was a bit footsore, but feeling quite horny, and I realised I could poo a little more, so I did the rest of my poo while masturbating, which was one of my favourite things to do in bed (and still is!)
Okay so cut to about nine o’clock the next morning, and Angie is shouting at me to get up and deal with my accident. This wasn’t, of course, the first time Angie had woken up to find the flat all smelly from my poo, and she was NOT happy about it. I wasn’t too happy myself; I was pretty hung over! I told Angie I needed some aspirin, but as it happened we didn’t have any. So I put on some shoes and told Angie I was going out to Boots. She said, “Like that?”
Of course I hadn’t been planning to go out to Boots in my underwear, but when Angie said that, I felt a little thrill of excitement! Obviously I couldn’t go out in my undies, but the thought of going out with my ultra-full knickers exposed was extremely exciting. So … I put on a t-shirt!
Yes, just a t-shirt! It was a long one – probably long enough to cover my knickers, if they weren’t full of poo. But they WERE full of poo, and they were hanging down like, I don’t know, maybe three inches below the t-shirt? Something like that. Anyway I dressed up the t-shirt with a belt, to make it look more like a dress. The t-shirt was dark blue and it actually worked pretty well as a dress, except that the belt made the t-shirt even shorter at the back, exposing even more of my bulgy knickers! Despite my pounding head, I was getting quite excited again!
Angie said she couldn’t believe I was going out like that. She said I was going to get myself arrested! I told her not to be such a killjoy. And after brushing my teeth and making myself presentable, out I went, bold as brass, marching down the street towards Boots with my poo bouncing around in my knickers in full view of everyone behind me. I must admit, though, I walked pretty fast, because it was a little scary. With my t-shirt being such a dark blue, my white panties must have stood out like a sore thumb!
When I got to Boots, I didn’t waste any time, and bought a bottle of aspirin as quickly as possible. They had a security guard there, but I managed to keep my knickers out of his sight until after I had paid. When he finally noticed me, I was already on my way out. I couldn’t resist pausing in the doorway, though, to push out some more poo.
I really wanted to stay outside and show off my panties a bit more, but my head was just killing me and I felt like I was about to puke, which sort of killed the mood. I ended up just going back to the flat, taking a couple of aspirin, and going back to bed. Angie had left (to escape the smell, no doubt), so she couldn’t object to me not cleaning up before getting back in bed. Anyway I slept for a couple more hours, then I woke up feeling a bit better. Also a little more sane! I couldn’t believe I had gone out in just a t-shirt and my messy undies.
But I still wanted to have some more public fun with my poo, so I put on a long-ish skirt and went back outside to wander the streets and do some window-shopping. I even popped into a couple of shops, but not for long, because I still smelled pretty bad. An hour later, though, I was getting really hungry and craving Frosties, so I went back to the flat. Angie was back, and so of course I had to clean up. And that was that!
I hope you enjoyed this account of one of my ‘crazier’ panty-pooping adventures. I wasn’t always that brave or that stupid, of course, fortunately. But I did have my moments! And still do!