The Doody Liberation Movement
I had to go and make doody one day at work but I
like making ploopy in those gross stalls where everyone's <uch!> butt
sits. I won't even take a drink out of someones drink but I have to
sit in the same tiny stall and put my butt right where someone just
took a doody?! And sometimes the seat is still warm and I think about
who might have just been there. That skinny guy with the zits?
Perhaps the fat fuck whose blubber must hang over the sides of the
fuckin seat. He must have to spread his cheeks to let a log fall and
here I am sitting right where he was. I layer and all that but...
y'know. So anyway I try to save my doodymaking for when I get home
but on this particular day I had a major problem which turned into a
I had ignored the original doody warning signs and
held everything in.
Business as usual as my brown business goes. I stayed clinched for
about and hour and felt perfectly fine. The office was slow and I was
unconcerned. But then, out of nowhere I had an absolute emergency.
My eyes bulged out of my head and my butt cheeks clinched tight.
Where the hell did this doody come from? With such vengence! I stood
to go to the doodyroom keeping a look of non panic on my face- but
soon the horror set in. The doody wanted out this second and wasn't
taking no for an answer. Almost as if the head doody guy overid my
anal control I openblasted into beige pants. Loudly. It felt great
and was somewhat interesting because I was doodying standing upright
which was a weird experience. It just kept coming and coming doody
flowing down the backs of my legs and finally reaching the floor. It
was wet and warm and somehow oddly soothing. I let myself go and
accepted the accident which brought back memories of childhood. I
fell into a daze shocked out by the brown experience. It stunk
deliciously. The yummy stench that only the doody producer can ever
I was startled back into reality by Jimmy the
mailroom guy. Jimmy
knocked on my door- even though it was open and walked in. I guess he
caught the scent as soon as he stepped into my office because he
covered his mouth with his shirt and asked me, "Goddamn! what stinks
in here!?" I responded with, "The stink isn't in here... (I turned
around and pointed to my brownoutted behind) The stink is in here!"
He gagged and backed away from me saying, "Yo man! You shit your
pants?!" I put my hands on my hips and said, "Yes I did!" proudly.
Checking my watch I saw that I was late for a meeting and I ran
downstairs trailing doody here and there as I went.
I walked into the meeting with a big smile on my
face and sat down
with a splut. The chick sitting next to me looked at me with a
grimace and sniffed suspiciously. There was a slight murmur that went
around the table of people asking about the smell. The meeting began
and I stayed silent and basked in my dooditity. I thought to myself..
and spaced out...
Ahh.. doody....doody...doody...doody.. .
Finally I heard my name being yelled and my eyes
opened to everyone
staring at me grinning. Some guy with a mustache who I always hated
said, "What the hell are you thinking about!? We're in a meeting here!
Wake up! What are you thinking?"
Well... I told him I was thinking about my doody of
showed him the back of my pants which were nice and chocolatey
doodycaked. I explained how much I liked the doody in my pants and
told everyone how it reminded me of childhood. I told everyone that
it felt good to be standing up and doodying rather than sitting and
cowering in a stall... ashamed of brown glory. I ranted about how
wonderful it was to keep a doody with you instead of flushing it away.
I let them all know that my stink smelled wonderful to me and how I
loved to stink this way. I told them that doody I was carrying in my
shorts made a wonderful warm cushion. I told them that I have been in
a state of bliss ever since the divine accident and I implored them
all to try it for themselves.
They stared for a moment silently until one person quietly said, "I do
it at home..." I put my arm around him and said, "See he does it at
home! And you love it right?!" He broke down in tears and exclaimed
that he indeed did love the doody being in his pants. I grabbed a
woman by the shoulders and asked her, "You have thought about it
haven't you!? Haven't you!" She too broke down and reached into her
purse. She had a small jar filled with doody in there. It was from
the morning and she was bringing it home. She too felt the feeling of
tragic flushing loss from making doody in the primitve toilet.
Before the meeting adjourned we all had full loads
in our pants and
big grins on our faces. The shame and repression of doody making
finally allievated and we were free! Free to spread the word of brown
freedom. Freedom to make in our pants whenever and whereever we
want to and take one step closer to the brown utopia of which we all
dream in our heart of farts.