A Horrifyingly Embarrassing And Equally Hilarious Poop Story To Go With Your Morning Coffee

September 20, 2012 | 8 Comments » | Topics: Story |

virgin poop story

When I was 17 my girlfriend at the time was finally ready to have sex. I, as one might expect of a 17 year old, was excited. Neither hell nor high water was going to stand between me and my final destination.

I get ready for the night, trim everything up, shower extra well. Unfortunately there was also an issue. I have a digestional disorder that sometimes cause my shiet to become large and quite solid while still inside me. I wasn’t aware it was a treatable problem and, in fact, just thought everyone had to deal with the equivalent of anal kidney stones. I bring this up because I had a mighty one which had been loaded into the gun for several days.

Let me set the scene. Her parents are away. We have her house to ourselves. She was always a little kinky so she demands we do it in her parents bed. I walk in to a candle holocaust. She’s been working on this all day apparently, and its as bright as high noon in there with the lights off. Which is good, because she proceeds to do a sweet, sexy little dance for me. At 16, she was AMAZING. For those of you who never experienced a female at that age, I pity the fool.

Now I’m sitting on the bed, watching this dance. I smile and tell her how good she looks. Unfortunately, most of my attention is focused on the dull throbbing from my sphincter and the large amount of intestinal discomfort associated with not dropping duce in days. But somehow I still get hard and we go to town. She starts out on top, then we switch. I bend her over the bed, and I even smack her ass (a ballsy move at the time, but she loved it). Due to my built up distraction, I last for what seems like FOREVER. She can’t stop moaning and telling me how good it feels, and then she says what every man wants to hear “I want to make you cum in my mouth.” I fu*king love women.

So she goes down on me. She was always average at best in the head department but at least she tried. She pops my cock out of her mouth long enough to look up at me and say “tell me if you like this”. Then I feel it.



I Think We Have A Contender For The Funniest Sh*t Related Story Ever. Props To Harvey Balls For The Find

September 7, 2012 | 4 Comments » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Story |

poop story

All in all, it hadn’t been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I’d last taken a dump. I’d tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to go Christmas shopping. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, “Everything Must Go!” This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:


2.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it’s next to the occupied one.

3.Poo on seat.

4.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.

5.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.

Clearly, it had to be Stall #2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trousers and sat down. I’m normally a fairly Shameful Sh1tter. I wasn’t happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.



The Funniest Sh*t Related Story You Will Ever Read

September 6, 2012 | 1 Comment » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Hall Of Fame, Story |

bathroom story

by _Old_Man_Jenkins_

Story time, children. Gather round.

Many years ago, when I was in high school, I worked at a movie theater. Allow me to preface the story by saying that I pride myself on my ability to accomplish tasks that I find unpleasant. My parents own several section 8 rental properties around Youngstown, and I had been roped into innumerable “This house is a mess, we’re not paying anyone to clean it, we feed you, here’s a bucket, get started” adventures in my short life. I had dealt with festering diapers left in the open air for months in summer, rotten food, spoiled milk, animal corpses, used hypodermics, anything you could imagine. Cleaning the grease trap in the concession area did not phase me. I was woefully unprepared this day.

I arrived in my polo shirt and slacks through the lobby entrance as some of the theaters were letting out. I could tell immediately something was amiss. One of the managers had put the caution tape we normally used to mark defective chairs over the door to the women’s restroom, and was standing in front of the door looking worried. When a patron would try to enter, the manager would stop them, nod apologetically, make a brief “mia culpa” gesture with her hands, and usher them away. When she saw that I had arrived, her eyes immediately brightened and she waved emphatically for me to come over.

“Jenkins,” she said, “You want to do something for me? There’s gas cards in it for you.”

This should have been my tip off. Gas cards were highly prized commodities in the theater, being given only for the most exemplary service. To receive multiple gas cards was unheard of.

“How many gas cards?” I asked.


“What do you want me to do?”

“There’s a mess in the first stall. I want you to clean it up.”

“Sure, no problem,” said 17 year old me, ready to earn the easiest 30 bucks in gas cards of my life. I was naive, and did not expect the horrors that awaited me.

I was allowed entry into the women’s restroom, and the first thing I noticed was the smell. It was the foulest thing I have ever smelled to this day. Imagine that a dozen homeless people are filming a scat porrn with a dead dolphin inside a sweat lodge inside a paper mill next to the Jersey River in August. That pales in comparison to the unholy aroma permeating the room; its soft pink tiles ironic in the face of such an insidious odor.


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Firsthand Account Of What’s It Like To Be A Drug Dealer

April 2, 2012 | 1 Comment » | Topics: Story, Writing |

drug dealer

In a single word, being a drug dealer was exhilarating. Immense rewards, more than I realized at the time, but also unbelievable stress, unavoidable paranoia, and most difficult of all, an existence in a world that does not ‘exist’ by traditional standards.

I can’t speak to what it’s like peddling product on the street or life as a cartel kingpin. But I can tell you what my experience of being a mid level trafficker was like. My entry into trafficking came about suddenly and ended just as quickly, turning those years into blazing memories, grandiose and traumatic. It’s not easy to put into words and probably best said through experience.

Towards the end of my freshman year at a California college, I found out that you could successfully ship weed. But that was only part of the puzzle. What made this all possible was a friend at a prestigious Ivy League school on the East Coast.

We eventually scraped together enough money to buy a quarter pound before the end of the school year. Roughly 1200 dollars at the time and I sent it to my counterpart. It was enjoyed by a small group of friends and that was it. While the profit margin on selling a QP wasn’t bad, several hundred dollars, it wasn’t enough to make clear that putting in the work to build the infrastructure could be more than worthwhile. It was one of the critical move that led to me and this best friend and partner spending the next few years of our lives fine-tuning our trafficking craft.

That summer, I spent in New York, where I was working for a prominent plaintiffs law firm. Already my third summer of working at a law firm, I was dedicated to going to law school and becoming an attorney. But another critical experience put me on the path towards trafficking. While out with my friends one night, we were hassled be police after a fight. Having weed on my person meant I would be spending the night in NY’s central lockup. 

The only white person booked that night made for a lot of conversation. Mostly revolving around the unfortunate circumstances that led to our arrests. But more importantly, the discussions over weed prices in various states, sealed in my mind an opportunity too good to pass up. 

Fast-forward two years; I had made enough connections that I was able to secure a ‘front’. For those who don’t know what that means; you give me a pound, I give you the money two weeks later. This is how most weed is sold, as small time distributers or beginning traffickers don’t usually have the cash to pay for product upfront. 


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Your WTF Story Of The Day

March 8, 2012 | No Comments » | Topics: Story, WTF |

wtf duck story

I grew up on a farm we had over 300 animals chickens turkeys. geese rabbits, goats, sheep…and ducks. This story is about ducks. We had 15 ducks. 14 were big black ones, Cayuga, I think, and one blonde duck. whom I called Rocky. Rocky was always bullied by the other ducks (they were all male) they would sometimes ”jump on top of him" and "beat him up". My parents hadn’t ever talked about the birds and bees with me. I didn’t understand that some male animals will mount another for dominance it just looked like they were beating Rocky up. They would make him eat food last, sometimes I would chase them away and let Rocky eat, he was much smaller than the others. I was raised on a lot of comic books and shiet, I always root for the underdog. defender of the weak, like Batman. Did I mention I was about 9 or 10? So one day I get fed up with how bad the other ducks treat Rocky for no reason. One night my parents went to bed early. I put on my ninja outfit. I snuck out quietly. And with these same hands I tell this story, I held down all 14 of those bully ducks in the dark making sure Rocky "beat up" every one, he even got some of them twice.
I forgot about it, as I told no one, until a decade later, when I knew about prison rape and what not. Oh my god. I thought. I was an accomplice to DUCK ANAL RAPE.

That’s not the best part.

They NEVER fcuked with Rocky again. He was the alpha duck, he ate first, he led the line they walked in. he quacks, they shaddup. I just acted like a mild-mannered farrnboy, I knew of no ninja vigilante. I really felt good after that. knowing I had made a small difference in a ducks life. Years later I would stay awake in horror at the ramifications of what my alter-ego had done.


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Need Some Of Your Faith In Humanity Restored? Check Out This Awesome Story

February 1, 2012 | No Comments » | Topics: Awesomeness, Story |

flight attendant

This happened on TAM airlines.

A 50-something year old white woman arrived at her seat and saw that the passenger next to her was a black man. Visibly furious, she called the air hostess.

"What’s the problem, ma?" the hostess asked her
"Can’t you see?" the lady said – "I was given a seat next to a black man. I can’t seat here next to him. You have to change my seat"

– "Please, calm down, ma" – said the hostess
"Unfortunately, all the seats are occupied, but I’m still going to check if we have any."

The hostess left and returned some minutes later.

"Madam, as I told you, there isn’t any empty seat in this class- economy class.
But I spoke to the captain and he confirmed that there isn’t any empty seats in the economy class. We only have seats in the first class."

And before the woman said anything, the hostess continued

"Look, it is unusual for our company to allow a passenger from the economy class change to the first class.
However, given the circumstances, the commandant thinks that it would be a scandal to make a passenger travel sat next to an unpleasant person."

And turning to the black man, the hostess said:

"Which means, Sir, if you would be so nice to pack your handbag, we have reserved you a seat in the first class…"

And all the passengers nearby, who were shocked to see the scene started applauding, some standing on their feet."

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The Best Tattoo Idea in the World

December 28, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Story |

Here’s a pretty damn awesome video of some tattoo artist recounting a time when a client asked her to sketch up his awesomely bad tattoo idea. When you tattoo includes a stallion, a griffin, a bald eagles head, an American flag and a light shading of an Indian warrior’s face you’re bound for greatness.

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Another Awesome Story Inspired By Crap And Diarrhea

November 30, 2011 | 2 Comments » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Story |

poop story

At work drank coffee for the first time that morning
drank three cups to make sure it worked
suddenly my stomach feels like someone has filled it with dirt and is trying to make a balloon animal with it
literally feel the shiet straining against my rectum, as if it was possessed by some sort of demon and wanted freedom from its thousand year prison
have to walk all the way down the hall with my ass and thighs clenched tightly
by the time I get to the bathroom. Fm sweating profusely and grunting loudly with every step
go to the nearest stall notice there is someone in the stall next to it. but idgaf
yank down shorts and attempt to slam my ass onto the toilet seat
ass slips off due to the slickness caused by my ass sweat fall off, one of my arms goes into the toilet, my ass slips under the stall divider cant control it
shiet actually explodes out of my ass. covering the entire stall
its occupant starts screaming I start screaming in return.
but I can’t fcuking stop goes on for about half a minute.
shiet erupting from my ass forcefully the entire time finally it dies down,
ass still sputtering and oozing a bit person rushes out of the stall, almost slips on the shiet. and then dashes out of the bathroom
lie on the ground for five or tens minutes, just trying to recover finally.
get up and look in the stall to inspect the damage it is completely lined with shiet.
you can even making out the outline of the previous occupant against the wall there is a huge gooey pile where my ass was sticking through.
probably weighed at least five pounds wipe my ass fast as I can, still takes a long time
terrified someone would walk in at any moment


Bert ‘THE MACHINE’ Kreischer Recalls His Russian Mafia Story…You Need To Listen To THIS!

November 29, 2011 | No Comments » | Topics: Funny Pictures, Story |

Holy Fcuk! Bert Kreischer is a god among men and can tell a Russian Mafia story like it’s no one’s business. It’s 11 minutes of solid story telling and even though I have the attention span of a gnat, I had my ears, eyes and mind glued to the screen for the entire time. Do yourself a service and listen to the damn thing.

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True Story, Bro

November 29, 2011 | 2 Comments » | Topics: Story |

true story

Alnght, so I’m 16 (as most of you know) and (much like most teenagers) I was speeding (I was going like 85 in a 40). Anyway so I get pulled over. I’m like FCUK! (because my parents said if I got a speeding ticket then I wouldn’t be driving for a long time). Anyway the cop comes up to my car, and he did the typical "Do you know how fast you were going" and here’s my response "Yes, I was going 85, I’m really sorry, but my grandmother is in the hospital and I have to hurry!" (I was really hoping he wouldn’t say what he said) then he said "Okay, I’ll take you to the hospital" so I’m following this police car going like 85 mlles an hour and he takes me to the nearest hospital. I park and get out and start to kinda jog to the door. Then (this is the part where I was like "FUUCK!") he gets out and comes in with me to see my grandmother (who actually isn’t in the hospital). So I think really quickly and I’m like… Hm…. what disease can my grandmother have that would make it so she wouldn’t remember me. Alzhiemers! So I go up to the front desk and I’m like "Where are the Alzhiemers patients? (trying to sound in a rush) so the lady tells me and I start jogging towards the elevator and I head up to where the alzhiemers patients are. I run into some random room and I’m like "Grandma!" and she’s like "Who are you?" and I try to start fake crying and I’m like "Her memory is almost gone…" and then the cop leaves, I leave, and get home without a ticket. Like I said… I’m probably going to hell.