With the upcoming changes and uncertainty with tumblr about vaguely risque’ content, I’m probably po
With the upcoming changes and uncertainty with tumblr about vaguely risque’ content, I’m probably posting with a degree of naivety about the future here. I personally don’t see what I do as being pornographic. A picture of someone in a bathing suit can be arousing. That’s allowed. But it calls into question the taboo of this topic. A bathing suit fetish is socially acceptable. A pants accident fetish isn’t. So it’s down to subjective opinion. But I think in all honesty, without being pretentious - I’m one of the most qualified people on the planet to comment on how the general public react to witnessing an icky accident. It’s incredibly rare that I’ve noticed anyone actually react as if they’re offended. It’s usually slight shock with a little frown and then trying to stifle a grin. Unreserved laughter with younger people sometimes. Often it’s concern. Others just unashamedly stare. So it can’t be that offensive.But back to this post which was a well planned walk back in spring this year. It had a few memorably awkward moments to report. Just white pants, rolled up tights and leggings this time. It was still pretty cold and I was craving spring and bluebells which must have got me thinking about having a planned incident. I barely did anything adventurous in the gloomy, relentless winter months before. I remember having had a series of vivid dreams about messing. Surreal but poignant, they started to occupy my thoughts and I decided to break my abstinence. I say my abstinence, it was probably only a few months since I’d previously exploded somewhere awkward. Having held for my standard three days, being rather gluttonous with fibre on the final day, I set off shopping whilst already in a pretty desperate situation. I don’t think I actually needed anything from the shops but it’s always nice to browse. I was in a large clothes store when things became challenging and headed straight to the large centre toilets. It was a rare occasion when faced with busy toilets that I managed not to totally disgrace myself in the line but I think it was pretty obvious to people that I was on the verge of losing it. I didn’t have to wait for long although at the time I remember being a bit disappointed about this. When I entered the cubicle I just stood in there leaning against the wall and without much choice the urgency won. I didn’t even pull my leggings down to sit on the toilet for it which is a far more comfortable way to mess. The all consuming weight of it just immobilised me and I pushed without much choice. It was quite bubbly and suddenly very warm, coming out constantly for five seconds or so. I remember the toilets were noisy with all the people but the noise of them all became distant and dream like as I was messing. It was such a drawn out feeling of relief afterwards that all my senses seemed to focus inwardly, blocking out everything else. It was similar to memories of being young, held by your parents with your chin on their shoulder, sleepily drifting into the distance as they chat, every one of their words becoming more and more soft and comforting. After a little while, still feeling a little bit unfinished and dazed, everything flooded back and I realised how much the smell had filled the air. Without much thought I grabbed my bag and left the toilet into the busy choas outside. The line was quite long and I toyed with the idea of joining it again but decided against it. I looked in the mirror and pulled my short bodycon down to cover my bottom which was a bit bulgy. I don’t think anyone noticed anything at the time and I then wondered back up to a store that had a baby changing room that I could dart into quickly. That’s when I got the first screen grab and was able to inspect the damage less publicly. Bulgy, smelly, but no staining. The next picture was on the way back out when I was semi planning to go back to the car but I still had a slight nagging in my tummy.On the way out of the shopping centre I glanced down the corridor of the toilets again and this time the line for the ladies was longer. And so obviously, I joined it. I think it was because it’s fairly rare those toilets are so busy and most times I’ve been there it hasn’t been quite the real accident experience that I seem to so bizarrely require this year. In previous years I’ve always been too scared or too sensible not to do it unless I’ve been unusually focused on having an accident. This time I didn’t think twice about it. I knew I was already a mess and that my top partly covered my bottom. It was just the smell that might be a problem.I was far from calm though. As soon as I was queuing in a mess I felt extremely self conscious. There were some middle aged women directly ahead of me who didn’t take long to comment on the smell. I just fiddled with my phone pretending to be innocent as usual. And then some people joined behind me which made me think about bailing and just going back to the car. But the queue moved forwards gradually and knowing it was becoming obvious to people around me that someone in the line had an issue I decided to go through with the remainder of the accident which had been pressing with a noticeable degree of discomfort since the main mess previously. I started fidgeting nervously and looking ahead to see how many more people were in front. I glanced behind me and the line was 5 or 6 people deep that way. I made eye contact briefly with one of them who was talking to her friend. Late twenties perhaps wearing glasses and holding way too much shopping. I don’t know if she was suspicious but it was about to be clarified as to who was the source of the odour. I faced ahead again, holding my stomach and stopped fidgeting, then I pushed. It wasn’t a huge amount of poop left but it made a noise and as I did I lifted my top slightly which made my bottom more visible. I didn’t need to pretend to act awkwardly now, it was all very awkward. I was getting looks and had to make the choice of stay or go. So I stayed. A little bit longer anyway. I was nearing the front of the queue and tried to hide my bottom against the wall. I think most people knew what had happened by now but nobody offered any help. I’ve been in similar situations and people have been lovely about it but I suppose it’s just down to the specific people there at the time. I stank and just couldn’t bare it any longer so I decided to take the walk of shame back down the queue which was by far the most awkward part. I covered my bum with one hand and had my phone in the other as I walked past all the eyes. I made eye contact with a few and their expressions seemed sympathetic. I must have looked quite shocked. I remember sweating and the cool air and space outside being a welcome relief. Getting back to the car was easy compared to that. I’m always very flustered after something that public and it takes me a long time to calm down. I stopped at some toilets on the way back to attempt a wee. I chose a screen grab that looks like I’m waiting to get into a toilet but I was just checking it had loo roll. And then I stopped at a usual haunt to calm down and take some pictures to document it away from stress, noses and eyes. I’m not sure why I seem to actively seek out ridiculous situations like that. Whether it’s adrenaline or the fetish. Either way it takes a long time to calm down from and every time it adds people to the list that I pray I’ll never see again. But toilet situations I perhaps feel are slightly more forgivable than others. I hope. Thank you for reading and happy pooping x -- source link
#katannauk