Pooped At Boot Camp :: Free Realms

#1 Oct 13 2005 at 4:44 PM Rating: Excellent

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2,115 posts

Just for the hell of it...

I think it's high time for a story.

As some of you know I'm in the Navy.

Just like every branch of military service, to join you have to
do your time in boot camp. Navy boot is on the short side compared
to the Army and the Marines, but none the less it's hell.

And the worst part of hell for me came in mid November.

I'd been there about four weeks. That's the week when you start
learning how to march. Yes, the Navy in fact does learn how to march.
It's a skill we all promptly forget after boot camp.

I was sick.

The kind of sick you get when somewhere in the middle of your small
intestine some snooty body function thinks it's high time that everything
in the digestive tract get booted out and by the quickest
route possible.

But I was going to tough it out. If they found out I was sick
they would let me stay in bed for a few days, but they would
also set me back a class and I didn't want to stay there any
longer than I had to.

And so we marched. Well, more like we did a good impression of
85 men trying out for the role of the Scarecrow in the local
production of The Wizard of Oz. We stumbled over each
other. Some of us fell. Many of us where told to get a brain.

All of us clicked our heels and said "There is no place like home."

Sadly the part of Dorothy had already been taken by a young
recruit who announced to the whole class that he was gay.

After 3 hours of marching it was time to head back to our compartment.

Did I mention that we march everywhere at boot camp?

And did I mention that we sucked at marching?

Every time one of us made a mistake, one of our instructors would
stop the whole group and tell the one in error how badly he
needed a brain. So even though we only needed to travel about one
quarter of a mile, it was going to take us about three days to get there.

Which was fine by me until a tiny little man in my head raised a
red flag with a big number ONE on it.

I had to tinkle. According to the little man, I had to do it Now.

I'm not sure how it is for you, but for me, holding my pee is
simple as long as I can keep doing one activity. Such as walking.
Or standing. Its when I have to keep changing from walking to
standing that I have a problem.

Our marching progress was going something like this:
Step Step STOP! Wait Wait Start Step STOP! Wait Wait Wait Start...
And so on.

Clearly I was going to wet myself long before I got anywhere near a toilet.

As best I could I held it in and tried not to look like Richard Simmons
in a speed walking contest.

Then the little man in my head raised another flag. It was red and
it had a TWO on it.

Not good. At the time my number twos had been violent and uncontrollable.
I wasn't going to make it and if I tried to hold it in I stood a
good chance of killing the unsuspecting recruit behind me.

So for the greater good I committed a cardinal sin.

With 100 yards to go I broke ranks and started speed walking to
the oldies en route to the nearest potty.

Breking ranks is really bad. I could have burned a flag right in
front of the commanding officer and not been in as much trouble
as breaking ranks.

Within milliseconds my Lead instructor commanded that every one
halt. When they all did and I didn't he asked me calmly, at the top
of his lungs, what the hell it was I thought I was doing.

"I've got to potty, SIR!"

"Get back in ranks!"

"Not until after I see a man about a horse, SIR!"

My last comment left him speechless long enough for me to make it
around the corner of our building. At this point I could actually
FEEL fecal matter start to press against my tighty whities.
(normally I wear boxer briefs but the Navy doesn't issue those.)
((I have no idea why I just revealed that...))
(((Given the nature of the story, I guess it doesn't matter what I say.)))

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

So, with only three flights of stars to go, I started running.
I bolted up the stars and into our compartment and two problems
struck me at once.

1) Our compartment is the living quarters for 90+ recruits. It's a
really long narrow room. So long you can see the curvature of the
earth. And the door I came as far away from the bathroom as possible.

2) It's mid November. Mid November in the Great Lakes area. It's
really damn cold and to make sure us recruits are snuggly warm
our instructors instructed us to wear three layers of clothing.

I dashed down the compartment tossing odd bits of outerwear left
and right. I was about half way across when from somewhere inside
me a tiny Mr. Scott shouted "SHE CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS CAPTAIN!"

Regardless of whether I wanted to or not, I started to **** my pants.

I reached around with both hands and grabbed my cheeks, pressing
them together. with every ounce of strength I had I flexed my
sphincter closed. Keeping my legs together I HOPPED the rest of
the way.

It's amazing how fast you can hop when you really need to.

In fact I was hopping so fast that I blew past 5 toilets before
I was able to slow down enough to land in a stall.

Once I was in the stall I dropped my pants and aimed my *** at the bowl.
I relaxed my bums biceps and... er let nature take it's course.

And that course amounted to the largest explosion of human waste
I've ever witnessed. Chunks the color of black fudge managed to
connect with the ceiling. I sat down on the bowl and allowed my
bowels to empty them selves.

About this time my instructor had caught up with me and came
storming into the bathroom. There is little privacy at boot
camp and none of the stalls have doors. He waltzed right into the
stall and then stopped cold.

All he could say was "Jesus."

I sat there and continued to ****.

Finally he said to me "What is the matter with you."

"Shit happens, Sir."

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