These next few stories are a little hard to believe (and read for that matter). You’ll either feel really bad that these things actual happened to people or die of laughter.
Words of advice…never trust a fart. Ever.
Interested in more stories? Find the original thread at the end of the article.
I was going through a phase where I was obsessed with pistachios, in about a week I must have gone through a good few 50 gram bags, just popping those suckers open and enjoying their salty goodness one after another.
I loved those nuts and all was well, that was until Friday. I remember I’d just finished work so I took a quick shower, changed into my lazy clothes and jumped into bed. I felt absolutely fine as I reached for my un-opened bag of pistachios on the side and began to work my way through them.
After a while though I began to feel some strange gurglings down below, the kind that are loud enough to interrupt the TV and make you wonder at how strange the human body is.
Well, it was about to get stranger because my stomach had decided to make its discomfort known through a series of smells. Now I’m an adult, a grown-man with a job and responsibilities. But I’ll be damned if I don’t still find farts funny, especially farts that smell so ungodly that you can kind of taste them on the air.
I remember with each new toot there’d be a moment of silence as I waited for the warm, evil smelling air to drift its way up to my nostrils before exclaiming something like “Frigging hell, that’s not right!” and then hooting like a owl at my own foulness.
Until it happened. The fart that we all fear, the one spoken about in hushed tones over campfires and in dark alleyways.
I’m of course referring to The Shart.
It started like any other, the familiar pressure and heat. Like judging the foot pedals in an unfamiliar car you need to test it slightly and see how much give there is. You push slightly, then a little more, then more still.
Apparently that innocent little fart had been carrying some illegal stowaways. Not little individually wrapped parcels of joy – oh no. I’m talking a tide of what looked like deep green porridge, an unholy swamp of foul smelling “nut surprise” had been sprayed out of me like the worst pebble dashing in the history of mankind.
To this day I’ve never encountered a smell like it, half pistachio, half turd, all evil. That smell haunts my dreams.
Needless to say I had to take another shower.
I had food poisoning, twice, the second time I threw up all over my wife. On our way home from the restaurant, I turned to her to say, “honey I don’t feel so well” and wound up saying “honey mgrulllmahaggaagaga, I’m so sorry.” Somehow we’re still together after that, she’s the best.
The shitting myself part came from throwing up so damn hard that it came out of the other end too.
I went to take a crap and forgot to pull my pants down. I just sat down on the toilet and went in my pants. Perfectly healthy, just distracted.
Boxers kept it contained (I realized right away) so it was an easy cleanup -dropped them in the trash and went commando the rest of the day. My pants stank, but at the time, I was working a job where it was ok to stink.
I worked in a fertilizer plant. So in summer, I was surrounded by dead animals, chemicals, and various forms of industrial farm waste. You could take a full bath in human crap and smell better than anyone or anything there.
I got the flu and trusted a fart. It was like water coming out of my butthole.
Then when I thought it was out of my system, I farted again and continued to pee out my butt.
I had just left a girls place after a night out and it was about 6am. I got in the car, started driving and was about 15 mins away from home. I crapped on myself uncontrollably about 5 minutes into the trip, it was like wearing a warm doughy slush pit.
When I got home I ripped into the driveway, jumped out of the car and onto the grass, whipped my pants down and hosed my butt off. Anyone awake that early would’ve had a great show with their morning coffee.
I farted in the car on my way to work. I thought it felt weird…maybe a bit bubbly…but I figured it was because the heated seat was making my butt crack sweaty.
I stopped at a drive-thru to get breakfast and felt something squishing between my cheeks when I leaned over to get my wallet. I remember the cashier at McDonalds asking me if I’m ok because I must have had a strange look on my face when I realized I pooped my pants.
Fortunately, at the time of the accident I worked in a wastewater collections for a municipal public works department. So, I had a change of clothes, a shower, and a washer and dryer at work. I was always the first one in so nobody had any idea what happened.
When I was first dating my now ex, we were in the drive-thru at our local Kentucky Fried Chicken.
My stomach began doing the Macarena and I thought I could maneuver one of those quiet, cheeks clenched controlled farts. My bowels of fury had another plan in mind and as I clenched to release the pressure, a foul, muddy torrent of the devils pudding let loose.
I burst into tears, my shame quickly soiling the seat, and I cried out “I just pooped my pants!” right as the innocent KFC employee finished asking if he could take our order. Laughter erupted from the speaker. I had just screamed my poo-py shame to a noon packed restaurant.
How have I crapped myself as an adult? Let me count the ways:
Once I leaned too far forward to take the parking break off in my truck, crapped myself, waddled into a gas station and cut my underwear off with a pocket knife and left them in the trash can.
At work in my office, I was taking a pee and trusted a fart I shouldn’t have. Cut my underwear off in the stall and just walked straight out of work to my vehicle and left. It was not the best day to wear grey pants.
Another time I driving down the interstate and couldn’t make it to the exit. I started crapping myself so I pulled over and made a run to the tree line and finished while holding onto a tree. I gad to cut my underwear off and use them as toilet paper because in my haste I didn’t grab napkins.
I went camping once and at 3 am I was awoken by my body actively trying to let loose. I climbed out of the sleeping bag, ran to the closest tree while pooping myself. Again, I cut my underwear up to use as toilet paper because as I ran away, I didn’t grab any. I walked back to camp naked, only wearing socks. It was 16 degrees.
Moral of the story kids, always carry a pocket knife because you never know when you’ll have to cut your underwear off at a gas station.
I took a bunch of opioids when I had kidney stones and got the worst constipation. They did a Computed Tomography scan with contrast and I was told at the time,”Yeah, this contrast is dual acting, it both diagnoses and cures. It’d be a good idea if you stay near a bathroom tomorrow.”Apparently contrast acts like a laxative. Who knew?
And boy howdy, were the doctors not kidding. I had literally one minute warning and then alllllllll the crap that had been blocked up for ten days came out. In less than 30 seconds. I didn’t have to strain, I didn’t have to exert any effort whatsoever, it was pretty much a religious experience.
I just kinda sat there for a few minutes afterward, limp as a dishrag, enjoying the afterglow. One of the best feelings in my life, better than most of the sex I’ve ever had.
I was at my grandma’s house watching a movie next to her electric heater. I fainted due to the heat and woke up to my grandma carrying me to the bathroom with poop in my pants. God I love that woman.
I was very sick at the time and it was the middle of winter so a few things played into the fart.
I was taking a drug test in the military. The observer normally just kind of stands behind you, but this dude was all up on me.
My bladder kind of got shy, so I tried to force it out. I tried a little too hard and ended up letting out a wet one. It was enough that I felt it run down my leg. I had to play it cool and turn in my sample bottle and sign paper work while covered in crap.
I used to live around 1 mile from a train station, and I had to run to catch a train for a job interview.
So I was in my best suit, running for a train, when I needed to fart. Never, ever trust a fart…
I sharted while running. I managed to catch the train and disposed of my crappy under garments in the train toilet.
Got to my interview on time…commando.
And I didn’t even get the job.
I crapped myself during a family Christmas. I farted and I didn’t know that it was a little more than that. I sat in it for about an hour only to get up and realize the feces had sunk into the cushion.
My mom called me an animal and I cried laughing.
I had a day off with my best friend and roommate on a Saturday. We woke up early to make the most out of the day. We was sitting in a coffee shop at about 8 am, feeling like proper adults as we drank out coffee, ate bagels, and are both reading newspapers. We have our papers folded out in front of our faces. My best friend put hers down and I put mine down. She looks at me, straight faced and says, “I just crapped myself. I sharted. Will you judge me if I go throw my underwear away? I really don’t want to drive all of the way back to the apartment.” I said, “Nope” with the same straight face as her. I told her to wait while I grabbed some disinfectant wipes out of the car (gotta make do, ya know?) and came back inside.
She cleaned up, threw her dirty underwear away in the tampon bin attached to the stall wall and came back out. We finished our papers and breakfast. She went the rest of the day commando and had a blast at a zoo feeding giraffes and what not. It was one of the most non-chalant, non-judgemental, “‘did we just become best friends? ‘Yup.’ ‘Wanna do karate in the garage?’ ‘Yup,'” moments of my life.
It was a great day in the joys of true friendship.
I’d been out of town for work, and the last night of the trip everyone went out and drank pretty heavily. The next day, I drove the three hours back home and felt just fine. I got home and was doing a little cleaning.
While vacuuming my living room I rotated my shoulders and just straight up crapped myself. No warning. No idea it was coming.
The worst part is…I could see the toilet from where I was standing.
Three weeks after my first daughter was born both my wife and I got severely ill, I call it the flu from the devil.
I was running a 104 degree fever and I was kind of delirious. I really don’t know what exactly was going on in my head but when the hot diarrhea started running down my leg my mind snapped out of its haze and I realized what I had done.
I stripped off the crap laden cloths and got them in the wash and cleaned my self up immediately. My wife never knew about this mostly because two hours latter I wet the bed and she will never let me live it down.
I traveled with a friend trough Thailand and got myself a pretty severe case of food poisoning. Some day we wanted to take the ferry to Koh Phangan and took the bus down there which was about an 8 hour ride. I slept on the way down not knowing what was yet to come.
I woke up because I went number 2 on myself. Not hard, just a bit so I went down to the bus’ toilet to look at how much I had failed at life. The toliet was literally just a hole in the bus.
I had to puke so hard that I crapped myself again. Later I found out it was such high velocity puking I ripped my esophagus and I began puking blood while being on said ferry.
I really thought that’d be the end of me and that I was going to die in the middle of nowhere without a phone. I would have almost passed out if it wasn’t for my friend. I stayed the rest of the ferry trip on the toilet where I puked so hard I constantly couldn’t control my sphincter.
I had to stay in the hospital for 3 days. The funny thing is I considered not buying travel insurance at the beginning but I did in the end. It cost me 17 and saved me a 3000 hospital bill. Nice.
’twas a nice trip though.