Christmas pants present

I'd been meaning to write up this fiasco for a few weeks now but kept putting it off. It isn't particularly easy to relay the emotions of a public pants disaster, especially one like this so I find the challenge of it a bit daunting. It was my most recent messing and occurred a few days after Christmas when all the shops had their sales on. The timing of it guaranteed a fairly large mess as I hadn't yet been to the toilet following all of the Christmas and Boxing day food and deserts and snacks and more deserts. I'd needed the toilet all day before but managed to hold on and even took some fibre supplements to hopefully avoid anything too solid. So looking back I was clearly planning and in the mood for the thrill of it at the time. More recently less so but that's always the way in winter. I find something in withdrawal and return which is maybe just a way of structuring the heartbeat of a year but it also acts as a means of mental recovery. I tend to just block it out immediately after an extremely embarrassing incident but it slowly builds into something oppressive over the summer and into the Autumn. So in January and February I try to let the clouds clear. I've also been off alcohol for most of the month and it's definitely had an impact on the urge to have an embarrassing unpredictable day. But following Christmas the days were constantly hungover. And the accumulated feeling of excess and food comas coupled with an enormous need for the toilet that morning meant I didn't really think twice about heading out into the sales to see what I could get - which as usual was interrupted by awkwardness. Messing can be financially advantageous on one level at least. I've often had to abort buying something expensive because it's too extreme for me to go and pay for it after having had an accident. I've started to lose it while paying before, and have had some awful times waiting to pay for parking, but never spent too much time in one place if I'm out shopping apart from the toilets. Which is where most the cringe of this walk happened. Well half at least.

Waiting for my partner to leave that morning made me feel awful. I've never let this fetish get in the way of the important things in life and I felt awful silently willing him off but I had to keep going into the toilet to regain composure, just saying I was feeling ill. It's still something I'd never discuss with anyone, and I usually time walks far better so they don't ever overlap. As soon as he left I threw on some cut rolled up tights over white midi's and then an extra layer of green undies above. Messing jeans up and I was out of there, managing to forget a memory card for handbag cam which cost me 10 minutes so by the time I'd reached the station I was already about to burst. I think the nerves that were gradually building while I was driving, knowing I'll be using public transport made the need to go far more pressing. I'd chosen to visit a huge shopping centre that I haven't been to for years and one that I'd never had an incident at. But the shops are far better here and I knew it would be busy. Another cause for nerves. It needed two trains and as I hurried to the platform I could sense everywhere would be crowded. This little station is usually deserted but today it was pretty jammed. I stood further down the platform away from seating areas and started uncontrollably farting like before back at home. But sitting down on the train seemed to calm things for a little while. The next train was more of an issue. As soon as I'd changed platforms and stood still I had to cross my legs as I nearly started to lose control. I had a few minutes to wait and checked to see if there were toilets I could wait privately in but they were locked which is pretty normal for British Rail. I was now starting to get the strangely addictive feeling of two parts fear, one part thrill as I tried to look natural standing with crossed legs trying not to let a full wave take hold. My insides felt heavy and after all the recent gas I knew all the pressure was probably pure mess. The previous train had toilets. This one didn't. I had no idea a useless service without toilets would be involved (nerves turning to panic). Whenever I've used trains before there has mostly always been a toilet to hide in. It was uncomfortable sitting down this time and the train was crowded. I managed to find a two seat arrangement that faced the back of more seats so at least I wouldn't have to face anyone if things went south. Which they started to about ten minutes into a 15 minute journey of staring out the window willing the scenery to pass ALOT more quickly. I suddenly felt a slight pain and on top of the pressure it was enough to stop clenching. I leaned forward in my seat and uncontrollably farted softly before slightly lifting my weight. The fart immediately turned to mush and I couldn't stop it straight away. It made a muffled squishing sound and I clenched with everything I had and sat back down to try to stop anything else from escaping this prematurely. As I sat I felt it spread quite far and realised this was pretty serious already. Pure panic set in as the smell became obvious. I took my jacket off and put it over my lap hoping to stifle it. I also subtly took out a small shopping bag to sit on while sweating and going red. I just stared out the window again trying to ignore the pressure which was beginning to become noticeable again after the brief release. I felt underneath and it felt a little wet in places. Eventually the train arrived and after ignoring a few comments by passengers and pretending not to be the source of the smell I was now about to have to show everyone whatever state my jeans were in. I couldn't gauge it sitting down. While I was sitting I'd adjusted my handbag strap to it's full length so it could hang at the bottom area level but it never fully covers it. I waited and dashed off late so I wouldn't need to wait by the doors before they opened. I don't know if anyone saw but I was just euphoric to be out in the cool open air after a very long 15 minutes of panic. The toilets on the platform were actually open and I wanted to check the situation and let a wave of pressure pass under controlled privacy. But with the human traffic from the train ahead of me they were pretty busy. Sensing relief or at least the chance to fight a wave privately in a cubicle meant that I didn't have much choice but to let it take hold while waiting - something that rarely goes well. Relief from leaving the train had now turned back to the panic of trying to look normal while standing awkwardly waiting for a toilet with people everywhere. The wave took hold and I was now stuck with locked legs in a line that was moving forwards. My handbag concentration wasn't great either so I maybe exposed my bottom and whatever state it was already in. I really didn't want to completely mess this early without even having a chance to look in the shops. As the urgency reached it's peak I had to inelegantly shuffle forwards with people behind me now, and then I started to lose control again having unlocked my legs. Before I could cross them again I involuntarily gave a sudden push and pooped myself noticeably. It was gas and mess so it was mortifyingly bubbly. My hand went to my bum instinctively as I clenched with full power and when I looked around I was met with two astonished stares from some middle aged women. It was rather warm and soft and I could feel it piling up higher from the centre towards the back of my underwear. I couldn't bare it any longer as I clearly stank and was sweating so I aborted, walking back past them and onto the platform where I could stand and regain control under the radar. I felt back and there was a bulge now. Perhaps the size of an apple, and it felt wet in places. I was disappointed in myself for letting things get quite bad so soon but more so I was increasingly nervous as I didn't know the town or where any of the toilets were. But at some bizarre level that was one of the most exciting moments in my history of messing. Absolute uncertainty and unpredictability. I was a mess, I still needed to go,  I didn't know where the toilets were and I was far from home. Having walked for five minutes out of the station towards the town centre with my attention squarely on keeping calm bowels and maintaining correct handbag camouflage, I spotted the huge shopping centre and entered immediately into sales wonderland. I've been out on missions when it's busy before, but not this busy. It was chaos. The downstairs of one shop had an improvised queue system on the floor using 'fragile' warning tape marking out the lanes. But the way I've come to see it over the previous few years is that the busier it is, the more invisible I generally am. And the more people who could be the source of anything nasally unpleasant. That said, and I think I've voiced it before, if just one person notices, they seem to spread some kind of scary unconscious telepathic communication almost instantly to others in the immediate vicinity who all suddenly just lock on to me and my disastrous bottom. The first priority was locating the toilets but I kept getting distracted by shoes. I was able to look in some mirrors and check how noticeable my situation was. Some slight staining and a bit bulgy but generally better than expected. The smell was the problem so I couldn't linger anywhere. The urgency was also rising again and I found some toilets on the top floor of the department store. They weren't too busy here and at last I'd managed to lock myself in a cubicle and let the pressure take hold. It felt dangerously loose as the urgency peaked and even with full clench and tightly locked legs I only just managed not to pop. It was persistent and I couldn't get it to settle. I must have been standing there like that holding my breath intermittently as the pressure repeatedly peaked for a good ten minutes and I started worrying that it wouldn't settle until I'd fully exploded. I could hear people pooping and it made me want to go more so on a trough of pressure and urgency I decided to head back out into the chaos as I didn't want to have an accident in a toilet cubicle. Walking was awkward now as I was constantly clenched. I knew it wouldn't settle until I gave in so I left the department store and searched for signs and floor plans of the huge shopping centre and spotted the main toilets on the next floor, but at the opposite end. Cramps were now taking hold and I remember being in quite a lot of pain as I made my way through the crowds and eventually found the main toilets which were incredibly busy. My heart fluttered when I saw there was a long line for the ladies, people just waiting around randomly, prams and screaming children everywhere, even a shorter line for the mens toilets. I think anyone in my situation would have tried to access a private toilet but there was a small queue for the two disabled toilets located just next to the entrance to the ladies. I joined the main queue, trying to stand with my back to the wall as much as I could and immediately felt very self conscious about the smell, especially after more and more people kept joining behind me. I've clearly had accidents while waiting for the toilets before but nothing quite compares to the intense stress of it. It doesn't get easier, it's always just as awkward. The only thing I've regretted in the past was giving up on seeing it through to the front of the line and actually getting into a toilet. I usually give up and dash off in a fluster after an accident. I did my best to hold even though the pain and pressure was becoming unbearable. It was now impossible to stand normally and I had to keep crossing my legs. And then I heard people behind me commenting on the smell and then some whispering. I looked back to see a small group of girls, younger than me, standing just behind a middle aged woman directly behind me. I only glanced but made eye contact with one and saw another whispering to her. Both of them looked amused and I'm pretty sure they were onto me as being the origin of the stink. In front of me were too older women who seemed to ignore the smell thankfully.

And then things happened. There wasn't much hope I'd hold it any longer and every time the queue moved I had to unlock my legs to hobble forwards just like at the train station toilets. An enormous wave of pressure won and I became totally absorbed by nothing else but urgency. Tunnel vision and blurred sound sum up the way my memory packages those moments of maximum physical and emotional intensity. I started losing control slowly for a few seconds but a painful cramp forced me to push suddenly and with zero control I stood there completely pooping myself. I remember holding my bottom at the time and I could feel a slight vibration of the embarrassing bubbles and crackles as it made my jeans bulge. The slightly firmer mess turned mushy and I could feel a lot of sticky warmth spreading at the front and back quickly, adding to the previous whoops. The initial relief was instantly replaced by panic and shock as the world rushed back into focus and the fresher, more potent stink filled the air. I could hear gasps and giggles coming from behind me but I didn't dare look back. All I could do was stand there trying to cover my bottom with my handbag which was pointless as everyone close to me already knew.  People in front of me were now glancing back and my mind was just fried. The sensation of bubbles moving against my bottom was a constant confirmation of how messy things had become and I stared at the floor trying not to fully break down into tears. The smell was truly revolting and it must have been far worse for other less guilty noses. The girls behind kept giggling but all I could make out were repeated omg's and fake gagging sounds. I could also hear people further back who hadn't directly witnessed it commenting on the smell. No one offered me any help until the line had moved forwards enough so I was closer to the disabled toilets and then I felt a reassuring hand on my arm and a lovely woman offered me the chance to split from the main toilet queue and go ahead of her into the disabled's. I was pretty much speechless but let her guide me there. But then I had to wait there for a few minutes for it to become available which was maximum cringe as the line of people kept advancing past me now. I tried not to look at anyone and stood with my bum to the wall. My mind was going into shut down and now I was genuinely teary. The lady asked me if she could get me anything and all I could manage was to shake my head and sniff. I did manage to thank her when the toilet became available and finally, I was out of everyone's sight. I stared through blurry eyes in the mirror for a while and tried to regain my composure but the emotions of it all were still overpowering and I remained teary for a while. I took my jeans down and tried to wee but most of it went in my pants which I tried to dry with toilet paper. I took a few reflection pictures to try and distract myself from what had just happened. I was only going to stay in the toilet long enough for most the witnesses to have moved on. But when I left I was still gawped at. I felt bad leaving a stinky toilet for the next person but I didn't stay in there for longer than five minutes so hopefully I didn't cause them any problems.

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Suddenly walking back through the shopping centre away from the scene of the crime I felt a little more relieved but pretty daunted by the scale of the problem. I could feel the mess was quite mobile in places and worried it might breach the rolled up tights and go onto my legs. I went back to the huge department store, doing my best to hide my bottom with my handbag. If the smell was visible I would have been the source of a large luminous green cloud spreading out behind me wherever I walked. Back at the quieter toilets I had half a mind to try and empty my underwear as the thought of getting on a train without toilets in this state was incredibly disturbing. There I took a few pictures briefly and went into a cubicle but soon realised I'd almost certainly make more of a mess trying to clean up than I would by just keeping things contained and controlled.

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The poop was very sticky and caked to my pants and bottom and the smell was too unbearable to have it exposed to the air for longer than a few seconds. But the sensation wasn't unpleasant. It was very warm and soft and without having eaten anything spicy it wasn't burning my skin. It was about as comfortable as a messing can be. So in no vein of sanity whatsoever I headed back through the department store, glancing in mirrors, stopping briefly to look at shoes and then straight back to the train station with totally pooped pants.

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Waiting on the platform was stinky but just about sustainable with my back to the wall. But any vague hope of a different train back for the first leg of the journey - one that might have toilets - was soon vapourised as an old and useless toiletless train rolled into the platform. I was panicking again and having got onto the train trying to hide my bottom I proceeded to walk the entire distance of it from carriage to carriage trying to find the most isolated seating area, of which there were few. Down the far end the best I could do was a two seater, facing the back of other seats again with only a few people nearby. I causally opened all the windows near to me and sat down slowly on the shopping bag I'd used before. The mess squished everywhere and I felt it climb worryingly high towards my underwear waistband at the back. I was sweating again so I took off my jacket and put it over my lap but the smell was still very noticeable. Then at the next stop two girls got onto the train and sat next to me the other side of the aisle. All I could do was sit there cringing, looking at anything but them. Sitting on a train with badly pooped pants amongst others is just as terrifying as it sounds and the journey took an eternity. But neither of the girls commented on the smell. It was almost like polite ignorance and I just thought thank you. The longer I sat still with my jacket over me the less potent the stink was so I'm hoping they may have just put it down to someone farting. Getting off the train was awkward as I had to put my jacket back on and reveal that I was sitting on a shopping bag but I just did it all in one movement and dashed off hoping that I hadn't offended anyone too much.

The next train thankfully had toilets, within which I hid for the entire journey. I took a quick pic there and it shows the damage that sitting on the previous train caused.

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I've ruined these jeans so many times but somehow they wash well and rarely develop many signs of permanent staining. I didn't stop anywhere on the way home as the weather was pretty gross so apologies that the pics are low quality this time. But generally I think that was the most emotionally interesting messing of 2018. As far back as I can remember I've bizarrely craved an awkward accident this potent. The mental overload of it is becoming easier to control but I'm not immune to completely breaking down as I nearly did this time. It's beyond shame and embarrassment and the only real respite is the fair certainty that you're very unlikely to ever see any of those witnesses again. I know it's just an ooky pants accident but the impact it has on my on going self hatred isn't soft. Whether this is a weird distortion of self harm or not I don't know as despite the shame, the toe curling memories and the continual repetition of extremely unlady like activities, it seems to evoke a cocktail of emotions, so perfectly mixed and so totally unique that I can't identify anything else in my life that comes close to it. That said, it will always be a blessing and a curse and I must stop this ridiculous trend of shopping and awkward queue situations.  I'm not sure what this year will bring but I doubt I'll ever get as crazy as 2018 again. I'll try to post some snips / pics from incidents last year that I intend to write up. Thank you for reading and apologies it was rather long, happy pooping xx