A lovely, lovely day last spring
The sun was shining, the sky was relatively clear and the birds were chirping. It was the kind of day you would wake up to, simply slipping out of your slumber rather than being wrenched by the alarm, only to look out of the window and feel your features soften. The sky that beautiful light blue it always seems to go in the early morning at the end of spring and the beginning of summer.

"Today is going to be a good day," I thought.

Not only for the fantastic weather, either. It was a Monday, and my college timetable last year meant I had just 2 hours of lessons spread between 9am and 1:25pm that day. I would spend the day with my girlfriend when not in lessons, then when my last lesson was done, I would totter off to the bus station, grab the bus at 1:45 and be home by 2:30. Then, the rest of the day would be mine.

About halfway through my last lesson, though, I started to feel a little odd. "No worries," I thought, "it'll soon pass."

By the end of the lesson, it hadn't passed, so I walked somewhat uncomfortably to the bus station. From college to the bus station is a ten minute walk, and that felt a bit horrible. When I got to the bus station it had progressed to a dull ache and every minute late the bus was, the more irritated I got and the more desperate to be home.

I sat through the 45 minute bus journey in excruciatingly increasing levels of discomfort, wishing it to speed up faster than the maximum 20mph all buses are capable of on a good day.

When I got off, I legged it home.

No one was in the house thankfully, and I threw my bags to the floor as I got in. Clearly, something was waiting just up my arse, and it felt to me like a fart. But the stomach pains had told me not to let it out - like women's intuition, but for lads. 'Danger!' it cried.

So when my bags were off, I shot into the downstairs lav, lifted the seat, slid down my trousers and boxers and sat down.

The fart started coming out.

"Aaaahhhhhhh ..." I began.

Then the shit came with it.

"ARGH!" my soft coo of pleasure became, as a volcano of smelly, semi-solid shit erupted from my arsehole with almost enough force to smash the porcelain of the toilet out from under me.

When I got up, the entire bowl was covered in this pulped remains of what might've been, had I eaten more fibre, a beautiful shit; slightly curved and smooth, able to slide out with simply the slightest of force, leaving nothing on the arse requiring wiping.

What I found most impressive was how some of it appeared to have blasted almost exactly horizontally from my arsehole and landed on the porcelain in a little blob underneath the wooden seat.

-edit-
The icing on the cake to this story was, I was so disgusted I took a photo. I then showed it to my friend in Computing, disgusting him and then deleting it while he told everyone in the class about it.

"I didn't take a picture of my shit, look on my phone if you don't believe me," I told them.

He looked a right twat.
(ratthingbazzterd, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 22:51, Reply)