The Doody Liberation Movement
------------------------------
I had to go and make doody one day at work but I
never particularly
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
major revelation.
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
appreciate.
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.. .
doody...doody...
doody..doody...ahhh..doody...doody...mmmm...doody...
brown
brown...doody....mmm...ahhh...doody....doo-dee...doody....doody
doody...mmmm...smelly...doody...doody...love...brown...brown......
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
course. And
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.
the end>