The log is right at their backdoor, but no matter how hard they strain they can’t get it out. Now and then they manage to squeeze a fart from around the stool but instead of being satisfied they’re just frustrated that they can’t push out more.

Every night, they give themselves a belly rub with as much pressure as the hard, round mass can take. Their mornings often start with them waking up to an inch of hard shit poking out. They’re so overcome with the need to push that they roll over to put pressure on their belly and strain, clutching at the sheets and groaning into their pillow. They end up having to break it off with their fingers and proceed with their morning completely frustrated. As they spend their days lugging around what feels like a wrecking ball instead of a belly, they hope and pray for relief.

They’re walking in a public area when the urge to shit hits them out of nowhere and stops them in their tracks.

turtleheading is an underrated scat thing and I can't get over it 😵‍💫 someone so desperate to go that their hole is already stretching out to accommodate the urgent turd that's fighting its way out, unable to close their own ass as they cling to their control. being split open by a giant log and they just have to keep a straight face even as they feel their cheeks parting. even better if it's a constipated load that they don't have to worry much about tightening their anus around, they just let it poke out with the confidence that it'll stay out for a while. imagine someone spending a day like that, going to work, acting completely fine while their poor hole is yawning around the blunt head of a massive shit they need to take, their hips aching a little with the width of it, maybe grinding their ass into their chair on occasion to push it back in and leaving marks on their underwear 👀🥴

No i'm not super into the messy aspect of messing so that's absolutely my favorite kind 😫😫 especially when it transitions into a mushier mess after being plugged up....

Stinky Boy at the Park

I sighed with frustration as I stood at the top of the quarter pipe. This trip to the skate park was going to be a busy because of a rumbling in my stomach. I couldn’t focus on my tricks and the slightly crampy and bloated feeling was proving to be a total nuisance. I was diapered under my tan joggers, but there was no way I wanted to walk home with a load in my pants.

Deciding it was best to take care of my discomfort, I decided to start for home. As I walked through the park, the dull cramps in my stomach gave way to some soft gurgling. My body grew tense and I clutched my stomach through my soft black hoodie. Ugh, this was bad!

I felt a cold sweat break out across my brow as my steps grew uneasy. My muscles we’re beginning to clench and I suddenly felt my desperation growing. I was a champ at holding it; why was I freaking out?

I increased the speed of my careful, small steps. It felt like at any moment, my mess was going to make a swift exit into my seat. To make matters worse, I realized there was some kind of large gathering going on in the main park. I couldn’t turn back now. The fastest way out of the park was to quickly navigate through the crowd.

As I carefully and quickly weaved through the people, the desperation intensified. I could feel a warmth signaling that the load was ready to make an exit. My jaw tensed up and I drew in a breath. Just a few minutes and I would at least be out of the park.

Suddenly, someone bumped into me with enough force to knock my skateboard out of my arms. It was like slow motion. As I reached out for it, my concentration broke and my muscles unclenched.

As my board went crashing to the ground, my stanced bowed as a warm, sticky log forced it’s way out into my seat. The pressure caused it to mash into a sticky, muddy pile as more poop came churning out with a stream of loud crackling.

“Are you okay?” I didn’t even realize that the guy who bumped my board out of my hands had been watching me with a mixture of pity and hesitation on his face. I immediately felt the searing heat of embarrassment wash over my face as this guy watched me helplessly poop in my pants like a toddler. I silently nodded slowly and scrambled to crouch down to retrieve my board.

Crouching was a mistake. The mess intensified and the sticky, thick warmth spread and smeared across my seat. A slight scent wafted upward, but luckily my hoodie kept too much from wafting further.

“Unggghhh!” I gave a push and kept my eyes down to the ground. Crouching in my shameful state of filth, I couldn’t bear to look at the people staring at me. Overcome with embarrassment, I began to uncontrollably wet my diaper as well. I grabbed the front of my pants out if shock and gasped. The flood of sticky poop finally stopped, but it felt as if I had five pounds of warm fudge sitting in my diaper.

I quickly grabbed my skateboard and waddled away from the crowd. I knew that the back of my pants were bulging and sagging badly at this point. As I walked, the messy warmth mashed against my bottom and I felt myself instantly get hard. I felt ashamed and embarrassed at my reaction, which made me feel strangely hotter. Once I was out of sight from the crowd, I hid behind a dumpster and felt my seat.

The warmth was intoxicating and I sighed as I began to knead it slowly and heavily.

I would have to take care of the tent in my pants when I got home, preferably before cleaning up…

Sadie is pretty used to the two hour bus ride across town to get home from work. She usually listens to music and scrolls social media, trying to look unapproachable enough that no one will speak to her. It’s not that bad, really, and she can’t afford a car

Today, though, it’s a lot more uncomfortable than normal. She’s been feeling bloated all day, and it’s just seemed to get worse since she sat down on the bus, her stomach gurgling with built up gas. It’s barely twenty minutes in when the pressure gets bad enough that she can’t hold back a long fart. It’s silent, thankfully, but the smell is terrible. She tries to surreptitiously crack open the window: if anything, the pressure in her guts has only gotten worse, and she’s pretty sure that won’t be her only burst of flatulence.

Her stomach hurts so much. It’s not even five minutes before she’s pushing out another fart, desperate for some relief. The person sitting across the aisle from her sniffs and looks around, frowning. Sadie shifts in her seat and farts again, putting a hand on her stomach as it gurgles.

The pressure builds further, and she starts to push again before abruptly realizing that something much more solid than gas is pressing at her hole. She barely manages to clench in time, grinding her butt into the bus seat. She still has an hour and a half left, and she has to shit, now.

It feels like all the pressure in her guts has suddenly moved downward as she cramps horribly. She puts a hand beneath her and rocks against it, biting her lip as she tries desperately not to lose control. She makes it five minutes before another fart bubbles out of her, staining her underwear. The person across the aisle gives her a look and moves to a different part of the bus.

Despite her best efforts, little toots of gas keep bubbling out of her, each bringing a little more mess with it than the last. She’s still got more than an hour left when the first log starts pushing out properly, and she clenches as hard as she cn, barely managing to suck it back in.

She’s digging the nails of one hand into her leg as hard as she can, fighting the unbearable pressure in her stomach and trying not to attract any more attention to herself as she turtleheads. She’s still got more than 45 minutes left when the first log pushes out far enough that she can’t get it back in. Even pressing with her hand isn’t enough to stop it: it slowly mushes against the barrier of her pants and underwear, sliding further and further out despite her best efforts to stop it. 

She takes her hand out from beneath herself, gripping the seat instead. She can’t handle having to feel the bulge growing beneath her, knowing that it will be obvious as soon as she stands.

The first log finally breaks off, followed by a long expulsion of gas. She manages to clench closed before more mess can come out, and she manages to hold it back for almost ten minutes before a torrent of bubbly mush explodes out of her, squishing up the back of her shirt. She’s lost all control and it just keeps pushing out of her; it can’t be more than a minute or two really, but it feels like a small eternity of cramping and shitting

Her stomach has visibly deflated by the time she’s done, although it’s still gurgling unpleasantly. 

She’s sitting in her mess, still twenty minutes from home, when a large group of people get on the bus. It goes from being nearly empty to being full, including someone sitting right next to her. The uptick in anxiety is all her stomach needs to start cramping urgently again. 

She can’t even squirm,  aggressively aware of the man sitting next to her; if she moves, the smell of her poop will certainly intensify noticeably, and he’s bound to associate that with her shifting. There’s no initial gas this time, just another log of poop pushing insistently at her hole.

There’s less than ten minutes to her stop when it starts pushing out properly, and the rest of the ride is spent in frozen, miserable acceptance as she slowly poops herself again, several logs coming out as she fights them every step of the way. She nearly misses her stop, caught in the horror of the feeling. 

She gives a little push as she taps the person next to her to let them know she needs off: she’s just hoping to not be actively pooping when she gets up, but of course this causes not only the rest of the log to push out but also a loud bubbly fart. The man looks at her in disgust as he stands to get out of her way, and it feels like everyone in the bus is staring at her as she waddles to the door. 

Her tight, light colored jeans are no doubt showing off her accident in a very obvious way. Even once she’s off the bus, it feels like there must be eyes on her everywhere. She has to walk through a busy area of town to get home, and her stomach is still cramping, causing her to let out bubbly farts as she hurries toward home, feeling the large mess shifting against her bottom with every step