So, I was walking around the gym yesterday, when all of a sudden, a not so good feeling came over me. All of a sudden, my stomach tightened and I could tell something was up. I made my way down to the locker rooms and into the bathroom. I could tell by the feeling in my gut that this one was big and called for the use of the handicap stall. You see, all men know that there are 4 things about a handicap stall that make it a necessity for longer duration dumps.
2)A clothes hanger.
3)An old newspaper.
Before I get into the story, I will tell you what each thing is used for. You use the handrails to rest one of your elbows on, switching elbows once in a while to prevent cramping. The clothes hanger on the door is to put your shirt on. Now, here me out on this, the only thing better than taking a big dump, is taking one completely naked. If you have not done this I suggest you try it. It can also prevent drag wiping which may get a skid mark on your shirt while you are wiping. The old newspaper is not only for reading, but also as a safety net. You see, occasionally you have to go so bad you don't bother looking to see if there is any TP before you sit. An extra newspaper is there just to save face by preventing you from doing the hop scotch out of the stall and over to the paper towel dispenser with your pants around your ankles. The sink is there to use as a cooling agent by splashing it on your face or by drinking it if you are dehydrated. Occasionally, during forceful outs, this can prevent perspiration or heat exhaustion. Now, back to the story...
So anyway, I walk over to the stall and it is unoccupied, GREAT. I enter and glance to my left. Damn, there are no ass-gaskets so I fashion one out of the ample supply of shit tickets in the stall. I sit, and when I do, a sudden calm falls over my body. I know from this feeling that this will be a marathon session. SO I rest my left elbow on the rail and read the Sports Illustrated which was left in the stall. It feels like everything is going as planned when, all of a sudden, I bind up. All of a sudden, I put a death grip on my former elbow rest and push down. HO-LY SHIT, I realize that I am at zero dilation and this bad boy wants to come out in a hurry. My face is contorted like the Joker from Batman and I almost give myself a hernia, but it only pokes out like those little bastards in a game of whack-a-mole. So, with no luck my first push, I decide this puppy HAS to come out. I relax for a second, wondering what could have caused this horrible, horrible trip. As euphoria hits just prior to the next contraction, I figure out that yesterdays diet was composed almost entirely of string cheese since I was stuck at the gym all day and it is a readily available source of fat and protein. All I have to say is never again. My second push comes and my creation pokes out a little more, but not entirely. Realizing that a Caesarian is out of the question, I decide that I need to get this out on the next puch or I will be tearing myself. Remembering from an anthropometry article that evacuation is easiest when the knees are above the waist, I position myself, knees above waist, feet nearly on the seat, and both arms with a death grip on the handrails pulling down. I push and, finally, it falls out, SPLASH. That evacuation is the closest thing to an orgasm I have ever felt. I wipe, but there is no poop there, only a little red dab. Apparently, this turd was too large for my virgin ass so I did a little damage to my cheerio. I looked at my creation and was in shock, it was HYYYYUUUGE. Maybe it was the shock or maybe it was the bloodl loss, but it looked like a can of soup, but I am sure it wasn't really that big, at least I hope not.
Anyhow, I did not bitch. I did not whine. I did not need an epidural or drugs. I just ran upstairs, put a couple staples in my O-ring, and went about my day. You chicks are real wimps, childbirth ain't that bad.
I hope this story entertained a few of you. With the exception of the last part about the staples, this puppy is all true. Just remember that eating all cheese on a CKD is not a good idea.
There is a lesson to be learned here. While I used a little dramatic license in the descriptions, the fact remains that evacuation is much smoother and quicker with the knees slightly above the waist. Remember this all you deep squatters in the event you decide to tempt fate.
If sense were common, everyone would have it.
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