People are Confessing the Grossest Thing They Have Ever Done

This isn't the most disgusting thing I have ever done, but it was... interesting. One time when I was probably 13 or 14 I spent the night at a friends house. We were hanging out in his bedroom watching movies and just being normal young teenage men. I was having really bad farts that evening which smelled horrendous, but, yet smelled so delicious at the same time. I had also been drinking out of a water bottle and I remembered I had just drank the remaining final drops of water.

There were still droplets similar to condensation on the inside of the bottle, due to being unable to get every single last drop, as is the case for every water bottle. I then had the brilliant idea to unscrew the cap and fart directly into the water bottle, then hurry and close it up. I repeated this process throughout the night, occasionally pulling my shorts down and farting bare ass directly into the bottle. I would also at certain points open the cap and smell inside the bottle which held the stench of my butt burps quite well.

I told my friend about it and made him smell my brand and he appeared to like the smell as well, as we would share smells back and forth throughout the night. There was a point where I think we went and skateboarded in his basement for a while, and I left the water bottle in his room with my butt burps "fermenting" inside you could say. After we were done skating we went back to his room and I opened the bottle to smell, and the smell was completely new and absolutely awful, but still in some way refreshing and almost addictive.

I think that the droplets of water that remained in the water bottle trapped the stench, and did in fact "ferment" the farts like a nice wine. Needless to say my friend and I continued taking sniffs here and there almost like we were taking a drug, for the rest of the night and even the next day.

Username: Shitjustgotshitty

Girl I met kept trying to get me to take her back to my place, my place being a boys 12-man youth hostel dorm which my mates and I were staying in in Budapest at the time.

Sounds ungrateful but I already knew (because she told me in the street when I fingered her and ended up with the red claw) that she was on her period. I therefore figured, hey fuck it she must be up for anal.

Sure enough, to my surprise when I brought her back, up I went, bareback, with this complete Lithuanian stranger.

After realising in my drunk mind that anal gives you STDs far quicker than vaginal sex I quickly whipped out her tampon ('where did it go' she asked) and threw it towards the other side of the room. It landed on my friend's bed. Mid sex, I vowed to move it after I finished.

Having finished sex I was dying for a drink so quickly bolted it out of the room to the corridor naked to get a drink. Came back, door was completely broken and would not let us in.

I realised my predicament, found a blanket, but quickly realise that the situation was worsening as my friends, who were obviously not in the room whilst I had shagged this girl, returned.

When this girl hears that we're just sort of laughing outside at her being locked in, she starts going ape-shit and yells at the top of her voice that she was FUCKING THIRSTY.

I then poured water under the door, thinking that it would at least show I was making an effort, but this went down even worse (my friends found it rather disrespectful but I was just genuinely trying to help her).

FINALLY. Door opens, now fully clothed girl storms out of the dorm, asking me whether I can just walk her to her door. By now my drunkenness had really set in and had turned full 'arsehole' mode.

I walked her to the door of our hostel and promptly shut it in her face.

Came back, got into bed, slept it off. Woke up around 7, still drunk but with the addition of a used tampon stuck to my face. My friend had realised that I'd thrown the tampon on his bed so kindly placed it straight in the middle of my pillow. What goes around, comes around.

Username: Partially-Naked-Chef

I'll preface this story a bit. I used to work for a paving company over the summer so that I could earn money to go to school (and so I could "build character" by continuing in the family tradition).

I wasn't on a paving crew, so I didn't work with all the heavy machinery, but I WAS on the seal and stripe crew, which meant I learned a lot about just how dirty every goddamn parking lot ever truly is.

And by dirty, I mean "shitty." That was the word. "Shit." You wouldn't ask someone "hey, can you help me clean this garbage/dirt/human feces up real quick?" Instead, as a catch-all, you'd say "hey, help me clean this shit."

So after having worked there a year, I was familiar with the lingo and the etiquette of complaining about every job being shit. Especially if it's a prevailing wage job, because complaining about it makes those extra bucks seem all the more appealing, and in fact makes the day feel even nicer than it normally would be (prevailing wage when I worked there was around $47.00 an hour, which was four times my pay grade).

Anyway, the disgusting part: one day, middle of summer in Southern California, our seal and stripe team is sent to a wastewater treatment facility to reseal the service roads up there. Of course we're bitching about starting late (early starts help avoid the heat) but inside we're pretty happy because it is a PW job and service roads = minimal striping. On top of that, head honcho was at another job with the rest of the whip crackers, so we the "super crew" would be left to our own.

So we arrive at the place, get in the back, and start unloading blowers and shovels and brooms off the stakebed trucks. You see, the first step on a seal job is to completely clean all the asphalt, as dust and dirt and shit fucks up the slurry coat. As we're going around the place blowing it off we make a few passing comments about how surprisingly clean it is, aside from a thin layer of brownish dust coating just about everything. Looks like a pretty good day.

Fast-forward a few hours until we reach the very back of the lot. Now, this place was fucking FILTHY. Straight piles of reddish-brown dust. There are two vat-looking structures nearby that we decide we'll try to blow all of this shit into because hey, the vat is not our problem. So we gas up the blowers, crank up the throttle and get moving.

Now, in this profession, you get dirty. You get nasty dirty. Water runs black in the shower. As we're cleaning this place, we're just absolutely coated with dust, but we don't think anything of it because we're ALWAYS coated with some shit or another. So when my foreman, all 5'2" of him, comes walking up to me yelling for me to cut off the blower, I don't think anything of it. When he looks at me with a face of pure horror and says "Xanthous, this is shit," I laugh and say "yeah man, I know, it's always shit, ain't it?"

"No, no...this is shit. This is human shit," his voice wavered. "We're covered in HUMAN SHIT."

As it turns out, that dust was shit particles. Those vats? Vats of human shit sitting on a layer of wastewater, congealed into little rectangles and cracked from the sun. We threw a rock into the vat and watched the shitcakes jiggle. Like Jell-O.

We also noted the life-preserver ring hanging on the far side of the vat. You know, in case you...fell in...

Username: XanthousKingJeremiah

**OOO, I have one! Tl:dr: Decomposed marine mammal autopsies and huge buckets of rotting mammals in bacteria water.**

About a month ago, we had to attend to a field trip to a facility that is used for large mammal bone preparation. Since most of us were marine biology students, the carcasses of choice were marine mammals. First we see the huge bone shed that is full of awesome bones, skulls and everything you could think of. I'm talking elephant seals, the vertebrae and ribs of Blue Whales that are just massive and so on.

These bones are prepared and sent to display for the South Australian Museum. This wasn't gross at all, although it did smell like old lamb bones and burnt oil/flesh (many whale bones are super oily as it helps with buoyancy control. Some bones looked like cakes, they were that oily).

It was the necropsy facility that was the worst. Inside another huge shed, there are massive tanks with lids. These tanks are filled to the top with warm water and bacteria. All animal carcasses, marine mammals or not, are dissected and placed into net-bags and then put into these water tanks.

The tanks are called 'Maceration Tanks' (which is a fancy word for rotting of flesh due to moisture). The idea is that the carcasses stay in these tanks for FOUR to SIX months until the bacteria eats away all the flesh and leaves nothing but bone. The bones are then prepared via other methods before they are display worthy.

So here's a scientist and he opens one of the maceration tanks that had dolphins and camels and god knows what else in it. There's really no OH&S involved, just a sign on the tank that says to be careful not to splash water on anyone. As the lid opened, the smell was absolutely foul. Bacteria water and rotting animal flesh. The top of the water was lumpy and looked like fresh broth. It was white with chunky goods that were not surprisingly maggots.

But it doesn't end there! We had to watch the scientists perform live necropsies (autopsies) of marine mammals. They had a fresh Common Dolphin and two very, very decomposed seal pups. I'm talking level 3-4 decomposition, which according to the scientists, means that the skin falls off and the organs are liquified or 'soupy.' The seal dissections were so stinky, but the scientists took no notice. The blood coming out of the seals was brown and maggots lined their fur which peeled off of the skin. The smell was much worse than what you'd find on a terrestrial mammal; the mixture of ocean, seaweed and fish just adds to it.

The dolphin was not pleasant either, and had a rather metallic smell. But it was a fresh carcass and we went to the dolphin as means to get 'fresh air.' All the organs and everything were cut up and placed in a wheelie bin, net-bags and test tubes for further analysis.

To top if off, this facility is near the waste water facility so throughout the day there were wafts of sewage joining the concoction. Some students had to leave the facility and stand outside as it became too much, but no one I know of spewed or it would have just topped the day off.

I took pictures of absolutely everything but I'm not recommended to show any. It was a super interesting day, but my goodness, one of the worst smells ever. It lingered in our nostrils for days.

My friends and I have called it PTSD (post traumatic smell disorder). Glad I'm interested in marine invertebrates and not marine mammals; that field trip sealed the deal for me (cheeky pun intended).

Username: Neyface

It was the summer of 2011 in Gujarat in India, where temperatures peaked at 52 degrees celsius. Me and my colleague had to go visit a museum which was right across the road from my alma mater. Before we left for our scheduled meeting we decided to have a couple of ice cold lemonades from the street vendor. I, being a glutton, gulped down three glasses and then went across the street to the museum.

The meeting went on for a bit and I realized that I had to go pee. Being our first meeting with these people I didn't want to get up midway. After suppressing my bladder for half an hour I couldn't take it anymore and asked the museum employees for the directions to the bathroom.

They gave each other worried glances and told me that I'd rather just go back to my alma mater and use the bathroom there. I should have listened to them, but the pressure was so intense that I pleaded them to tell me where their bathroom was.

Grudgingly they told me its location and I raced to the bathroom, which was a small shack outside, behind the an old marble statue.

It seemed all right from outside, marble flooring, patterned tiles on the wall. I stepped in and my nostrils died. There was shit everywhere! Not enough that the entire floor was covered but sufficient to make you feel like you were playing minesweeper. Oh, and the patterns on the tiles? IT WAS SHIT.

I don't know how, but there was shit on the walls. Somehow I didn't end up vomiting, somehow I persevered. I thought to myself "I will not be like these people! I will be civilized and pee in the commode!".

I managed to jump and skip through all the shit-cakes and make my way to the stall. I peeked into the commode and I saw something alive! There was shit inside as well(DUH!) and IT WAS MOVING!!

Flies had laid eggs in the shit and it was overrun with maggots who were crawling in and around the moist feces.

The commode was literally bubbling with the activity of thousands of shit maggots! I couldn't take it anymore, I rushed outside the room, stood a good three feet away from the door, pulled down my zipper and let loose inside the toilet, adding to the cesspool.

I returned back to the meeting and didn't say anything about the bathroom. It took another fifteen minutes and then we headed back to our alma mater for some chai and cigarettes. I told my colleague and batch-mate about my ordeal in the bathroom.

He chuckled and told me he knew about the bathroom, he had tried to use the bathroom too 5 years back and found it in the same state. He did the same thing that I did, and conducted his business from the entrance of the toilet, except that he left a pyramid instead of a pool.

Username: daolagupu

Two large arbys roast beef sandwiches. The ones in the box not the wrap. The boxes were soggy from the grease.

I had eaten them the night before school the next morning. What followed could only be described as horrific. I wake up at 6:50am approximately 30 minutes before my bus came to my stop. I showered and got dressed and was out the door to my stop (efficient yet unprepared). I am outside enjoying the cool breeze and the warm glow of the sun. A slow rumbling gurgles it’s way through my body. 7:22 the bus comes.

No turning back, I will simply hold it. I step onto the bus seniors in the back begin hollering when I step on. The noise and the once warm glow of the sun had now suddenly transformed into a humid hell. Pain ensued as the sandwiches which lay dormant through the night had now awoken early in the morn. As if the battle of agin court were made anew within the bowels of my body. Pain.

Then suddenly it stopped. Did I shit myself? No thankfully. But it was no agin court merely the prelude to The war to come. 1 hour goes by and nothing. I get to school and nothing makes itself known. Strange but I figure it’ll wait till im home in the comfort of my own home. The end of the day comes and I see my bus is ready for us. I head on and find my seat. 1 minute before departure. Hell.

Hell on earth? No. Hell in my stomach/asshole? A fair assumption. The heat began to rise and the sweat formed fast indicating time was of the essence. The bus rolls off ETA 1hour before my stop. What I endured was nothing like I had felt. Any wrong move and I’d spray feces everywhere. I have never truly thought about how everything is a mental battle. I clenched my asshole shut by brute and mental force. It would not be my day.

10 minutes in my breathing is labored and the sweat has soaked my neck and forehead. 30 minutes I have opened the window with my face up to the wind drying the tears and feeling the breeze on my red absolutely drenched face. My ass was drenched with disgusting sweat and rage. 45 minutes I began to pray. Holy Mary protect this ass. The noise in my ears reduced to the ringing you hear in a war movie. Heavy artillery rocked my asshole like a night in San Francisco.

I have arrived. I have a 5 minute walk left Down a gravel road. The walk was a 15 minute walk as every other step is breathe and labor. Around the 13 minute mark time had come to make a decision. One that would risk my ass being destroyed and ruining my cargo shorts. Or saving them.

I sprinted. A full on sprint legs were moving as if shit were not about to come out. I ran hard and was going up my stairs passing my loving mother with a glance of panic. Shorts around my ankles and book bag in the hallway I have found safety on my porcelain throne. I may exaggerate things but I will not exaggerate this. 2 hours at least I was on the toilet.

The pain was simply immense. I had managed to produce a softball sized shit and it acted as a dam. It blocked a torrential downpour of liquid hell. It was a savior but it had to be removed. Shitting out anything that has a diameter larger than your fist puts things into perspective. I was fully naked at this point and the dam was moving out. My asshole was gagged. It was trying to scream but simply couldn’t.

I pushed with everything when suddenly an audible pop sound was hurt and the dam was released. What followed after was pure relief as the war had moved its way into my toilet. I sat there broken and humbled. Loose asshole and Peace. I had looked at my creation.

It was black. Pitch black as if a literal demon had clawed its way out of my ass. I’m still not certain if I had undergone an anal exorcism. All I knew was peace had found me and my shit had found its way.

Username: Globos_meos_lambe

This will get buried, but what the hell, I'll post it anyways.
I was at BoyScout camp when I was 12. Like most camps, the food there wasn't exactly five stars, and it made most people sick. But me? Nah, I had a stomach of iron. Or so I thought...

Anyways, it was lasagna night -or stuff that they passed off as lasagna, anyways-, and I was feeling lucky, so I had more than my fair share. I left the mess hall feeling the best I would feel for the rest of the week, and trekked back to camp.

I shared a four-person tent with some of my best friends, and after we were done BS-ing until 12, they all fell asleep. I followed, but was stopped by what you could call, *THAT* feeling.

"I'll just ignore it," I tried to convince myself, "I'll be asleep before it gets worse."

Little did I know, I was only prolonging the inevitable. I could only stand a couple more minutes of this agonizing torture and ended up sprinting out of the tent, going as fast as my fat, adolescent, pork chops of legs could carry me to the latrine.

Too fast. I had passed the point of no return, and my flight was forced to make an emergency landing. The latrine, about half a football field away, was only a fantasy at this point. I crashed on the nearest tree, and opened the floodgates. God had sent down a new ocean of liquid lasagna to earth, my butthole being the portal for the flood to spew out of. I wasn't done for what seemed like hours.

With the moonlight as my only guide, I did an assessment of the damage. Oh shit, it got all over my boxers *and* my shorts! I did what my 12-year-old self thought most logical, and hung the boxers on the camp clothesline (yes, the communal one). I had to finish my trip to the latrine in commando mode, but wasn't going to put on those muddy shorts any time soon. What next?

Waddle like a duck through the woods with the shit-soaked shorts around my ankles, that's what! After what I can only describe as a 50-yard splashdash, I finally reached the promise land. I put the remainder of the lasagna to rest, cleaned myself up, and went to sleep probably 20 minutes after the whole ordeal.

Then came the aftermath: There were flies everywhere in our camp for the rest of the week. I didn't notice the correlation between the influx of flies and my earth-shattering bowel movement until I went to check up on it later (Because 12) and saw that it was infested. I only told one person about the ordeal, and he revealed a piece of information I wouldn't have expected in a thousand years.

That boy's father, a counselor, was trying to sleep in his truck the night of the incident. With his front seat facing the camp, he had a full opera-box view of both acts of AvenueMan's *A Midsummer Night's Life-Questioning Lasagna Shit*. I could never speak to him after that. He knew, I knew, and we both knew the other knew, but we could never said anything. It was understood.

To this day, I haven't told anyone else about it. I hope you all enjoyed.

Username: AvenueMan

One afternoon late in the summer I had just started my shift as a server at a local restaurant/tavern. It was particularly slow and I was one of only 3 servers working.

A few more showed up early and I asked a couple of them if they wanted to grab a smoke before the dinner rush hit.

3 of us headed out back to the alley behind the kitchen. We perched ourselves on the stoop underneath a large metal overhang that housed a very large AC unit. Hanging from that a support beam was a bag of bees. Yes a bag of bees, the insects.

At some point in the spring someone had hung a bee trap; a bag that attracted bees in order to keep them out of the kitchen as people came in and out, especially as we were receiving deliveries.

Over the course of several months, hundreds or thousands of bees met their demise in this bag. It had grown from about softball sized to about the size of a basketball over the several months as it collected more insects, dirt, and rain.

Well one of the geniuses I was smoking with decided to pick up a stick a pretend like he was going to poke at it. He even went as far as pretending he was going to swing at it. He chuckled and began to say that he wouldn't do something so stupid.

As he was saying this, he very gently prodded the bag. It proceeded to EXPLODE all over him. He was covered in the remains of thousands of dead bees and god knows what else.

The smell. OH GOD THE SMELL!!! Not a drop landed on anyone else, but he was completely covered in this shit.

He held his breath and kept his mouth closed, but you could tell all he wanted to do was scream. The rest of us ran back inside as our shifts had already started.

As customers began coming in, our bee-covered friend was nowhere to bee seen. The hostess and management were looking for him and we all confessed to what happened as the smell from the back alley began to creep into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the bee-man, comes waltzing in the front door looking and smelling as if nothing happened. He had sprinted home, de-robed, scoured himself in the shower, dressed and sprinted back in less than 20 minutes.

Username: jpgonzo24

Guess I'm telling this story twice in one day. On my 23rd birthday, me and friend went to visit my buddy who was in the Marine core. His mom recently passed away, and left him a rather large inheritance. We get to his house, and he surprises us and tells us that he's taking us to Las Vegas. Holy crap, VIP treatment in Las Vegas with a high roller, best time of my life.

We are leaving Las Vegas after 4 days and go to the airport. It's around 9AM and we're all starving. I see this Mexican place, and order like a 3 lbs burrito. The things got rice, cheese, more cheese, jalapenos, the freaking works man! I eat the burrito, then we proceed to get onto the plane. Since my buddy is a high roller, we can't fly coach out of Las Vegas, so he buys us first class tickets!

We're now on the plane sitting in the most comfy, leather chairs ever. My stomach starts to bubble. Before I even continue, you should know that I have a DEEP FEAR of public restrooms. When I have to poop at work, I take lunch, and drive the 20 miles home then go back. So yeah, stomach begins to bubble, and there is absolutely no way that I'm holding this thing in. Farts are leaking out and I know that there's no way I'm not going to poop myself, so I do what I have to do, and make my way to the bathroom.

I enter the bathroom, and do what I like to call "the move". "The move" is when you're figgiting to get your belt off, then drop your pants to your knees as you squat over the toilet bowl, and in one fluid motion you poop while sitting with barely an extra second of time. WOW. I drop the most stank, rancid, disgusting crap of my life. It's explosive diarrhea, but the smell. WOW. I can taste the smell on my tongue right now just thinking about it.

My eyes are watering, and I begin to wipe my bottom. As I'm wiping, I look on the wall and there's a sign that has the picture of a hand holding what I now know is a paper towel, but what I THOUGHT was a piece of toilet paper, over the toilet bowl, and then there's one of those big, red circles with the line through it. I assume that this means that you're not allowed to flush toilet paper on an airplane, which at first sounded weird to me, but what the fuck do I know, I don't poop in public none the less on an airplane. I see a waste basket built into the wall, and I think to myself, "Oh, that must be where you dispose of your shitty toilet paper after you're done wiping your ass. I wonder if it sucks the shitty toilet paper into another compartment of the plane."

So, I proceed on wiping my ass with toilet paper, and throwing the shitty toilet paper into the "waste receptacle". When I finish and I'm washing my hands, I start to sniff around. It still smells GOD AWFUL. I hurry out of there, and make my way to my seat. I sit down next to my friend, with a confused look on my face.

"Hmm...That's weird...", I say. "What's weird?" we'll call him "Rob" says. "I didn't hear the toilet paper get sucked into the waste receptacle when I left the bathroom," I say. "It still smelled something awful."

Rob looked visibly confused for a good 30 seconds at me. "What are you talking about? What waste receptacle?" Rob says. "Oh you know. The one in the bathroom that you throw your shitty toilet paper into. There's a sign in there that says you can't flush any paper." Rob starts laughing thinking that I'm joking. He sees the look of horror on my face.

"Oh my god, BrockFukcingSamson. You're serious? The sign is there so people don't flush PAPER TOWELS. You're supposed to flush toilet paper. I don't suppose you saw a GARBAGE CAN in the bathroom, did you?" Rob says to me.

"Can't say that I did. All I saw in there was the toilet, sink, and waste receptacle..................ohhhhhhhh.........................OHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

Right as I have the revolation that I threw my explosive diahrrea toilet paper into the GARBAGE CAN, a VERY well dressed Japanese businessman (wearing a very expensive suit, sitting with what I've deduced was his personal assistant), gets up from his seat, and walks over to the bathroom. We look on in horror as he opens the door, and backs into the bathroom. As soon as he shuts the door, we hear gagging, and he opens the door just a few seconds later and hastily makes his way back to his seat. He turns the little air nozzle above his seat on full blast and brings his face up next to it and starts breathing in deeply, his face beat red in probably anger, and maybe disgust.

And that folks, is the first and last time I've ever flown first class.

Username: BrockFukcingSamson

Oh boy!! I've been waiting a while to get this one off my chest.

Two summers ago, I was hanging out on the porch of my friends house with a bunch of bros. We were all sitting there having a good time and joking around(you know how Juniors in HS are).

To add a little back story, the friend who's house we were hanging out at, was kind of poor. His family didn't have much and could barely break even with bills and whatnot by the end of the month, they literally lived from pay check to pay check. We loved the hell out of this kid and his family and offered our help whenever we could with little stupid things around their house or yard.

BUT any who, back to the story. My friends father drove a 1980's Nissan 2wd Pickup for a work truck. The thing was one beat up truck, bullet holes and whatnot. In the bed of the truck were all of the tools that were used by my friends father to do his job. Well, on this certain day, we were hanging out by the little work truck and I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

I look and it's a [VOSS](http://nickshell1983.files.wordpress.com/2010/07/voss-designer-water-bottle.jpg) artisan water bottle filled about half way with this god awful yellow murky water, which I assumed was the leftovers of this "Artisan Water". Well, being a stupid young teenager who had to pee, I grabbed the bottle and twisted the lid off, and whipped out my wigger and pissed in the bottle of "Artisan Water".

I added my own little mark of "Art" to it. ;3 And to keep going with the "Art" that I had created, I asked my friend for a 12 oz can of Mtn. Dew. He got it for me and I drank about half of the can and poured the remaining liquid into the bottle of "Voss". The Voss bottle was about 3/4 of the way full, and I had to top this sucker off. I asked my friend for a Blue Raspberry Crush soda, he went off and got me one and I poured as much of it into the Concoction of Yellow Voss Water, Pee, and Mtn. Dew. Once it was finished, we added some ice to make it cold and I set it in my friends backyard.

About 20 minutes later, our other friend comes over with a huge 64 oz soda from the local gas station. He just so happend to have Mtn. Dew..Well up walks the neighborhood girl that everyone didn't like because she was just a total skank and a butthole to everyone.

She asked my friend for a drink of his Dew and he gave her a little bit. My buddy drank all of his dew and I got the most bright idea, I went up to him and said, "Hey dude, let me see your cup, I bet money she asks for a drink again!" So what do we do you might ask? We go into my friends backyard, top off the 64oz cup with this Piss concoction and ice and my friend goes back out front, I soon follow just to keep the situation from looking suspicious.

Well, up walks the Neighborhood girl and she asks my friend for another drink. The moment of truth has arrived! She puts her lips on the straw, and fills her mouth FULL of my Piss, Mtn Dew, Blue Raspberry Crush, and Old Yellow Voss Water....She Swallowed and took another huge swig, I coudln't contain myself! I busted up laughing and yelled, "How does my piss taste?"

She gave me the biggest most disgusted look and then yelled "FUCK YOU!" and threw the cup at us, it hit one of my friends and it blew up on him, he was COVERED in the rank ass liquid. The girl ran off, pissed off, and my friend was motionless....He had no idea what he could do..I think a part of his soul burnt off when the liquid hit him.

And that will forever be the day I had a girl drink my piss unknowingly, and have my piss get thrown on one of my closest friends. Everything went better than Expected :) Sorry to type your eyes off but yeah, that is one of the worst things I have ever done to another human being. I also have a couple more stories to tell if anyone cares to hear :)

Username: [deleted]

I was driving up to Montreal to see some old friends I hadn't seen in a while. Riding along with me was a friend of a friend I'd never met that needed a ride. We stop right before we cross the border and have some delicious Wendy's and fill up on gas before it doubles in price over the border.

I cross in NH, so I'm driving down the long stretch of 10 O that goes through miles of farmland without many exits. It's about this time that my stomach starts have a disagreement with the chili/frosty/fry mix I had eaten an hour ago. I literally think I'm about to shit my pants, so I speed up to try to get to the next exit.

When I get there, my asshole is clinging on for dear life. But unfortunately, there aren't any gas stations or anything because we are out in the middle of freaking nowhere. I pull up to the side of a random barn and leap out of the car. My passenger knew I needed to go because I've been squirming around for like 15 minutes, but clearly didn't know how badly.

Keep in mind, this is in the middle of broad daylight. I make it around to the backside of the barn, where no one can see, and proceed to drop trow.

But I didn't make it. My asshole lets loose before I can get my shorts completely off, and I'm leaning up against the side of a barn with my shorts and inside of my legs covered in nasty diarrhea shit. Great, now I'm covered in shit, on the side of a barn, in the middle of the day, with my car on the other side, facing the road with a guy in it I barely know.

I proceed to take off my shirt, and thankfully it was one I didn't care about, and wipe the shit off me as best I could, and wipe the shit off my shorts as best I could as well, while trying not get it on my hands. But I definitely, DEFINITELY, stank to all high heaven. So what now?

I toss my shirt and underwear, hold my shorts out in front of me, and crab-walk back to the car. As soon as I round the barn, I scream "DON'T LOOK! DON'T LOOK!" to my passenger and circle-strafe the car to get to the trunk. Unfortuantely, my bare ass was facing the road, but fortunately no one was around. I pop the trunk and get a change of clothes, a tube of toothpaste, and once again crab-walk circle-strafe the car to get back to the backside of the barn.

At this point I don't know what my passenger was thinking.
So there I am, butt naked on the side of a barn, with a pile of clean clothes, a pile of shit-covered clothes, and a tube of toothpaste. My main goal was to cover the stench.

I squeeze a whole bunch of toothpaste in my mouth and proceed to swish it around to make it more soft. I then take off one of my socks and spit the toothpaste-saliva mixture into the sock. With what is now the poorest loofa known to man, I proceed to scrub the light brown coating of shit that's left on me off my legs and ass. It was replaced by a light white minty glaze.

Using my other sock, I try to get as much of the glaze off, to the point where it looked like I just don't ever moisturize, instead of looking like I was covered in a saliva/shit/toothpaste mixture (which I was).

I throw on the clean clothes, leave the shit pile, and, as calmly as I could, walk back to the car, covered in shit-toothpaste, and continue on to Montreal. I feel bad for the farmer that had to clean that up.
Had a great weekend in Montreal, otherwise.

Passenger turned out to be a cool dude AND when I told the story of what happened, he had no idea I shit myself (he thought I had just pissed myself and was really embarrassed), so my toothpaste trick worked I guess.

Username: aguywholikesclothes

I made the mistake of drinking way too much at Munich’s Oktoberfest the night before having to fly out to Paris early the next morning at 7:00am.

Never having been to Oktoberfest, I had no idea what to expect. I’m from the Midwest, where Oktoberfests are common, but small beer gardens in little German immigrant towns. Munich’s was like four or five state fair midways combined, with enormous beer tents. I went to the Hofbräu-Festzelt in the late afternoon and ate roasted chicken and drank enormous glass mugs of lager until after 1:00am, when I stumbled out and poured myself into a taxi to go back to my hotel near the Tucherpark.

I was dead tired and wasted, but some Scottish guys convinced me to do a couple of shots with them at the hotel’s bar. This obviously didn’t help. I forced myself to pack my luggage and lay out my clothes for the next morning. I set an alarm to wake me at 5:00am, thinking that it would give me time to catch a taxi to the airport, check in, and make it to my gate on time.

5:00am seemed to come about five minutes after I went to sleep, and I was insanely hungover. Bleary-eyed I got dressed and made my way down to check out and wait outside by the taxi stand.

A large black Mercedes taxi pulled up and I got in, sitting on the rear passenger side.

It was about 5:30, so there was little traffic, and it didn’t take long for us to make it to the autobahn leading to the airport. Once on the autobahn, the driver really started hauling ass (mine), at 145kph, or around 90mph.

As we got closer to the airport I could feel myself turning green, and getting greener by the minute. I was gonna ralph, and there wasn’t gonna be any way to stifle the inevitable. The car had manual window cranks, and in hurried desperation I rolled down the window and stuck my head out into a roaring hurricane of wind. And there I proceeded to sell Buicks at full spench, discharging liters of lager and chunks of roasted chicken, all down the rear quarter panel of this poor Mercedes.

I pulled my head back in, rolled the window up, and rode the rest of the way in shamed silence. The driver never said a word, perhaps just thankful I hadn’t blown chunks inside of his car.

When we arrived at the Munich airport, I clambered out to survey the carnage. The high speed probably helped keeping most of it off the car, but it was definitely going to need a trip to the carwash.

I tipped the driver twenty Euros, and made my way to the check-in counter, which wasn’t open yet. I laid down right on the floor and passed out, only to be awakened by a kind lady from Virginia, who helped me up and made sure I got checked in and made it to my gate.

It was an Air France flight, and I must say, to this day Air France is my favorite recuperation hospital. They brought me champagne and a bit to eat, which took the edge off. And by the time I arrived in Paris I was right as rain.

Username: WardParkway

I guess this isn't necessarily something nasty I DID, it most certainly wasn't by choice, just kinda happened and was nasty

My dad passed down this amazing lovely health condition where if I use the wrong deodorant I can develop an abscess in my armpit. The first time it ever happened to me was last year and thankfully I've mostly been able to avoid it happening again by simply switching deodorant.

I had gone to the hospital a week before, my armpit had been sore and swollen for about 2 weeks at this point, but once I was checked in and brought back to see the doctor, the doctor pretty much just blew me off, telling me that it was just a little redness and would go away, she checked my armpit with her gloved hand and didn't even press down on the spot I specifically told her was swollen (it felt like a hard ball under my armpit),

but she pressed down other places and I would flinch away in pain, she just acted like I was being dramatic, told me nothing was wrong with me, and to just take some random antibiotics she gave me for cellulitis (Surprise surprise,

I didn't have cellulitis, I had an abscess, which I told her about my family history and that it would more than likely be just that, an abscess) then sent me on my way.

Wellllll guess what, I was right, and she was wrong cause a week later I'm at my friends house taking a nap in the evening in their bed, I was wearing a tshirt and when I woke up my shirt was wet, at first I thought I had just sweat a lot in my sleep,

or that it was drool (ya know, that half awake drowsy logic) but nope, come to find out my body had got sick of the infection and was releasing it how it wanted to (a tiny pin hole in my armpit) and had managed to drain so much blood and puss while I was asleep that it had not only drenched my tshirt, but also left a disgusting milky pink stain on my friends bed and pillow and was still draining as I was trying to hurried change shirt and clean up the mess (yes I bought them new sheets and pillows, I felt so bad about it)

Weirdly enough it wasn't very painful at all, it actually felt way better than it had the two weeks following, like the soreness was gone for at least that moment. I then ended up going back to the same hospital (bad idea cause this hospital fucking sucked)

and having to wait in their lobby with blood and puss dripping down my side under my shirt for 2 hours before getting mad, telling the receptionist it's bullshit I'm sitting in the lobby while bleeding infection all over the place, and left for another hospital who had me in and out within 30 minutes.

Yes I know hospitals were dealing with a lot at this time but this hospital literally had no good reasoning for it, a girl in the lobby told me she had been waiting for lab results for 5 hours after it took them 2 hours to even see her, so she had been sitting there waiting for 7 hours,

and they most certainly, 100% were NOT over crowded, it wasn't even half capacity, they were just a shit hospital really.

Username: ToxicLullabies

Got the flu the first time I lived alone after being discharged from the US Army. I was probably pretty close to dying, actually. I can only estimate my temperature, but I remember oscillating rapidly between "on fire" and "freezing to death."

I had febrile seizures as an adult, if that gives you any idea of how bad off I was. And the headaches- I felt like there were a dozen people in the room with me taking turns driving spikes into my neck and skull from different directions.

During this time, I was too weak to get out of bed even to call 911 (which I desperately wanted to do, knowing my condition definitely warranted it). And I had uncontrollable and frequent diarrhea and vomiting.

At first I actually did try to get to the bathroom, but after about a day I pretty much gave up. I managed to crawl over to where I had been ironing clothes and grabbed the plastic gallon bottle of distilled water I used for the iron's steam reservoir, humped myself back into the bed, and then stayed there for the next three days.

Every drop of pee, every watery shit, every ounce of stomach contents (there wasn't much of that, to be honest- it was mostly dry heaves after I emptied my guts the first fifty times): it all ended up in the bed with me. I didn't even try to hold back.

I just let the poo flow- I didn't even shit, per se- I just oozed. I was coated in crap. The mattress was basically just a lake of putrid liquid shit. It smelled horrendous and felt worse. It was so caustic that I actually got blisters around my anus.

I shouldn't have lived through it, but I was young and in decent shape before getting sick. The fever broke (gradually, not like it does in Hollywood), and I was eventually able to get to and from the bathroom. It took another day before I could function- barely. I remember the shower I took, sitting in the bathtub and just letting the warm water run down over me. It was one of the most wonderful feelings I'd ever experienced.

I was out of work for ten days. When I got back, I weighed 135lbs, down from 155lbs. People said I looked like a concentration camp victim (not even close, though- those people went through much worse than I ever did).

That shit, piss, and vomit soaked mattress was in the apartment with me the whole time and for a little while longer too because I simply wasn't strong enough to haul it to the dumpster. I can only imagine what my neighbors thought of me. You could smell it halfway down the hall, and going into the apartment it felt like you were pushing your way through a barrier of shit-smell.

I eventually got everything cleaned up and sanitized. Had to buy a new bed (obviously) and get my carpet professionally cleaned. The smell faded gradually over the course of the next year. I gained back the weight and went on with my life.

But I will always remember the time where I slept in my own shit for a couple of days because I was too weak to try (or even care about) getting cleaned up.

Username: lendergle

When I was in the Navy we had a thing called berthing cleaners, where we had two or three people every day clean the common spaces in our shared sleeping space. Basically this meant cleaning the bathroom and floors and calling someone if their bed looked like shit.

However, we were sailors and when we pulled into port we would get *drunk*. Not like have a couple of drinks and go home for the night kind of drunk, but like piss drunk in the most literal sense of the word. I watched a dude puke all over berthing floor and mop it up naked at 2 am one time.

Grossest thing I've ever done was the morning after one of those nights, I was on berthing cleaners. I walked into the bathroom with my supplies to start cleaning the toilets and I look at the middle stall and the wall behind the stall is COMPLETELY covered in shit.

To this day I will never understand how it happened, it was almost like a mosaic but you could tell the angle that the shit ended up on the wall from.

There was a pipe that came up the back of the toilet that was covered, and you could see the "shadow" of that pipe in the shit on the wall. But also there was a perfect line at the top of the shit.

And there was no shit on the top of the toilet seat, but the entire underside of the toilet seat was completely covered. So by our best guess, this person sat on the toilet seat, and angled their asshole to squirt shit all over the wall from *underneath* the toilet seat.

I also have no idea how one person made that much shit. I certainly have never pooped that much at once in my life. It was at the very least multiple pounds and when we had it in a pile on the ground it was more akin to the size of cow shit than it was human shit.

I will never forget the smell either. It was a normal shit smell, but man it was fucking STRONG. Not like when you walk in the bathroom after someone just dropped one, and it's like a background smell. This shit was the ONLY smell in that bathroom. We grabbed respirators to clean the bathroom that day. Getting it off the wall wasn't too bad, because it was still kind of runny and it was more diarrhea-esque than solid.

We used a squeegee and a mixture of bleach and water, and scooped it up when it was on the floor and just dumped it in the toilet. Lots of scrubbing too, god that morning felt like an eternity of cleaning even if it was only an hour or so.

Thinking back on it now, I'm not sure how there was a point where we were like "Yeah it's clean now" because I would never think that wall would be clean again...

I have more gross berthing stories, but that's the grossest I personally ever had to experience.

Username: Roscoeakl

Me, fresh teenager circa 2002, Morrowind had recently released for PC, and I had played on the computer WAY too long that day and strained my senses a little too much.

I ended up with a MASSIVE migraine this particular evening (they were common for me as a kid but still occasionally happen as an adult). My migraines can only be subdued by one thing: sleep, usually with a cold wash cloth over the eyes. Pain relievers are no match for these bad bois.

So that night I went to bed with the cold wash cloth and tried to sleep off the migraine.. Normally this helps, but there is a certain point with my migraines that I'm in so much pain and overstimulation that nausea, dizziness, and possible vomiting occurs, and apparently this one particular migraine had crossed that point of no return without my full awareness.

After a brief drifting in bed and trying to sleep, the wave of extreme nausea slammed into my gut, and I had five seconds to make it from my bed to the bathroom in the dark (right across the hall). I jumped up, fumbled a bit, opened my bedroom door, took a step, and BAM five seconds was up and so was my dinner.

I tried to clasp my hand over my mouth, but the force was so intense it was like spraying liquid pizza and Mountain Dew through a shower head.

So, next part is the really bad / fun part. The house my parents own is an old 1930s small house in a historic Virginia town. The last time the bathroom was "updated", it was done in linoleum tile all over the floor.

At this exact moment in time, my forward momentum of rushing to beat that five second timer, the fountain of vomit, and a floor made of linoleum translated to the nastiest slip 'n slide I have ever went down.

Teenage me, in nothing but briefs, slid down the 12ft galley bathroom, my head striking the porcelain throne and cracking the ceramic on the base.

Next thing I know, I hear my mom crying in the hallway yelling "I'm so sorry!" while trying not to throw up as she turned the lights on and witnessed the horrors before her.

My dad, without a word, stepped in to the bathroom, about as nude as I was, helped me to my feet, got me into the iron bathtub I had so nearly avoided, and showered me down with cold water while checking my eyes for a concussion.

Apparently I was fine after this; the memories stop after Dad started blasting me with cold water, and I got to skip school the next day.

Username: NiemenZ

I haven't told the story for many years. I'd like to think it's dead and buried, but it always finds its way back into my brain.

So I went to summer school in Massachusetts. This is probably around 1995 or 96. One weekend there wasn't anything going on so we went to Freeport Maine to visit the outlets. We do the shopping thing and decide to head back to campus. Before we left I was hungry so I went to get McDonald's. For whatever reason our driver didn't want us eating in the van, we had those 16 passenger vans that we took instead of school buses. So I scarfed it down in the parking lot and we went on our merry way.

We get about an hour into the 3-hour drive and I start feeling an unsettling rumble in my stomach. I asked the driver if we can stop so I can go to the bathroom, but he says no, as we just got on the road. I told him it was an emergency, and he said he would stop at the next place he could.

While I'm sitting there pleading with God to give me the strength to keep my butthole clenched, the feeling dissipates. I start feeling better, and as we see a sign for a rest stop the driver asks me if i still need them to pull over? Feeling a little better, I say no, I think I'll be okay. Right as we drive past the exit to the rest stop, and I mean literally right after we passed it, that unsettling rumbling feeling comes back with a vengeance and I go into full on panic mode.

The urge is so strong I can feel my butthole pulsating, begging and screaming to puke out the contents of my gut. I tell the driver to pull over now, but he won't, and that my dear internet strangers is the straw that broke this camel's back. I couldn't hold it any longer, the dam burst and out came the forbidden chocolate. I'm not talking just a little bit of poo, there was so much it came out of the bottom of my shorts while I was sitting down despite me propping my legs up.

I should mention when I was asking the driver to stop I wasn't screaming it, I was asking him quietly so the other students wouldn't know. The smell was atrocious, and as it hit the van people started screaming things like "who shit their pants", "that's awful, please open a window", "is someone dying?" Because I didn't want to be blamed, I joined in and started yelling "who shit their pants that's disgusting", "oh my God, the smell, go see a doctor!"

Now I'm not sure why, but somebody said they wanted to watch a movie before we got back to campus and since it was early enough in the day our driver agreed. We pull into the movie theater and everybody gets out except for me. I'm scared to move.

At this point everyone's figured it out that it was me, so the driver handed me the keys to lock up the van whenever I am able to remove myself and walks into the theater. I half shimmy, half scoot out of the van, careful not to spill more poop out of my shorts as it sloshes around. It's at this point I discovered we parked in the very back of the parking lot, very far from the theater. I can't just start walking as all the poo will come out down my legs onto my socks and shoes. So I start looking for something I can use to clean myself up a bit.

There was a tiny stream nearby so I took my shoes and socks off, and jumped in. I clean up as best as I could, come up out of the stream and find I am now covered from the waist down in foul smelling Creek water mixed with shit. However, I had gotten the bulk of the mass in my shorts out of them which allowed me to walk to the theaters bathroom to clean up even more.

Despite my foul odor, I walked into the theater bathroom, took as many tissues as I could find, soaked them in water, found an empty stall, and started getting to work. I did as best as I could, but the odor was there, ingrained in the fibers of my shorts and underwear.

I wrapped the underwear in tissue and threw them in the trash. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was just going to smell like this until we got back to campus. So I did what any sensible teenager would do, I went and watched the rest of the movie with everybody else.

With the movie over, we all go back to the van, open the doors only to discover there is a puddle of shit on the seat where I was sitting. I go back inside, grab as many tissues as I could hold, wipe up as best as I could, and sit on my throne of shame. To everyone's credit, nobody teased or made fun of me during or after the fact.

Username: sumner929

I had a drain-fly problem a few months back in my bathroom and for the longest time I couldn't figure out where they came from.

I tried every remedy the internet could provide to no avail. It was quite odd as well as I heard that drain flies tend to appear near drains that are rarely used and that sort of stuff, yet they still infested the bathroom, and especially the shower area.

I decided that enough was enough. This was my shower. I couldn't stand the sight of 30+ drain flies on my ceiling whenever I look up to wash my head anymore. I decided to go "heavy duty" and buy some drain-cleaning-foam-thingy meant for these little bastards.

3 express delivery days later and the foam arrives, so I set some time after work (~10:30pm) to reclaim my shower. No idea what I was up against, I twisted off this plastic grate over the drain and take a look inside the shower drain.

A few months prior to this shower drain revelation, I did shine my flashlight down there to see what was up. I saw the water at the bottom, but my view was partially blocked by this large object I couldn't quite make out which I thought at the time was some weird concrete elbow that I thought my drain had.

Basically, I didn't think much of this large object, until I opened the grate.

So the grate comes off, and proper room lighting enters the abyss of the drain. What stares back at me is a giant mound of hair. Who knows what different kinds of hair was in there, but there was hair.

And a LOT of it as well. I let out an audible "fuck" and walk out of the bathroom, compose myself, grab some gloves, tongs and 2 garbage bags and go to work.

Weirdly enough it didn't smell, until I actually grabbed it out. It was the most pungent, disgusting thing my nose had ever encountered in its life.

The smell made the thought of dog food smell like lavender. And the more I grabbed and pulled, the stronger the smell became. I was afraid that as I grabbed the hair, the hair would grab me back.

After 5-10 minutes of gagging 'n' grabbing I finish the job. Wrapped up the first garbage bag with the hair and tongs inside, double wrapped it, threw it out and proceeded to spray the fuck out of the drain foam.

To answer the question bluntly; Pull out a ~3+ years accumulation of pubic hair from my shower drain.

Username: v_Farm_animals

When I was in high school I worked part time at a gas station as a stock clerk. I wasn't allowed near the registers. I just cleaned the store and stocked the shelves.

When I got to work one day the cashiers were yelling towards the doors cursing and threatening to call the police. I looked around boggled. One pointed at an aisle and said, "Look at that shit!" Well, there was a giant pile of shit a few feet from me.

Apparently I had just missed an old lady that came in and had a bad case of diarrhea. She shit in two places on her way to the bathroom in the back of the station. The first place was a pile and the second was a single turd.

I was instantly grossed out. The cashiers informed me I had to clean the mess. They said the restroom was worse. I reluctantly walked around the shit and peeked into the restroom. She had shit everywhere. You could see every movement she made trying to make it to the toilet.

At one point she slipped and her ass went against the wall leaving shit running down the walls and a shit covered ass imprint. She shit all over the toilet and all in the floor. The smell was horrifying. I started gagging and my eyes watered. I begged to not have to clean the mess up but it was "my job". I got a water hose from the back room and went to town dousing every where in bleach and spraying the bathroom down with the hose. The smell of bleach burned my nostrils so bad that luckily I couldn't smell the shit anymore.

I went to take the garbage out there and saw in the trash can the old lady had removed her shit filled granny panties and left them in there. I took that out and saw in the parking lot there was an enormous pile of shit.

You could tell it was where the people had parked. On the other side of the shit was a pile of vomit. Whoever was driving the old lady puked.

I got my trusty hose again and took it outside. My plan was just to spray the mess to the edge of the parking lot. Well, the pile in the lot was very dense.

The hose couldn't move it. I had to go get a stick and break up the pile so I could wash it away. When I sprayed the vomit corn went everywhere. I was so fucking over my job by that time.

Oh, I forgot to mention. The shit that was in the aisle had to be cleaned up. I put a couple layers of bags on my hands and had to pick up the warm shit with my hands.

After that day the smell of bleach or someone else's shit instantly makes me gag. I was worried how I would handle diaper changes after I had a baby luckily I developed "mommy nose" and the smell of my kid's shit didn't phase me too bad.

Username: Headacher

*Time to roll this one out again...* I am the luckiest dumbass ever to live. So I had the weekend at home to myself. My flatmate had gone away, a little me-time was scheduled.

Now, I like to experiment. I'd heard about sounding (sticking things into the urethra) and thought I'd give it a go. Initial experiments were unsuccessful- chopsticks were a little large for my virgin pee-hole. No big deal, I'm sure I can find something else.

Now, a little history. Do you know what Buckyballs are? They are a type of office toy, really popular a couple of years back. They are small, spherical, strong magnets. Pretty neat, they can be combined into all sorts of cool shapes. Also, they form into a lovely string. Can you see where this is going?

Well, wouldn't you know it, a string of buckyballs slides up the urethra just perfectly. Like it was made for it. It's a beautiful thing. I pass away a happy afternoon plumbing the depths; these things can go a long way! And the further they go, believe me, the better it feels.

Readers. Readers who have owned Buckyballs. Do you see my error? Do you see how this delicate chain of balls, so exquisitely suited to its purpose, holds my doom?

So, evening rolls around. I decide on one last plunge. This cop is a day from retirement. This space miner has discovered a nest of funny-looking eggs. This hitchhiker is rolling up to the Bates Motel. And this is one last plunge. In they go. Ten, twenty, thirty beads. More. Forty? Fifty? I don't count. I don't care. It feels good.

I feel at this point I must explain a little more about buckyballs. I have described them as a chain; this is not so. Each ball is separate, only held to the next by its magnetism. And what do magnets love to do? They love to stick together. Remember this. I did not.

My last plunge, my final dive continues. Soon, better than half a metre of magnets is inside me. I am through the prostate, through the sphincter, in the bladder. I push on. I hit the top of the bladder. I am possessed. I push on. The buckyballs, the magnets, start to bend and curve back towards themselves. Still, I push on.

-click- I hear a sound from deep within me. The sound of two magnets meeting and mating. Suddenly my beautiful chain of balls is a tangled magnetized lump. In my bladder. This is the worst possible thing.

But now I have lengthened my tale overlong. Panic stations were activated, rationality and sobrerity returned, and I started to pull. Gently, oh so gently I pulled. This chain, this thin chain of balls was still held together only by magnetism and hope, and now there was resistance. At any moment the chain could break, would break, was certain to break. And if it did, there would be no hope. Nothing short of surgery would remove them.

Still the chain held. All the way down, right down to the penis. Did you know, the smallest diameter part of the whole system is the end of the penis? I do. Oh, I do. It stuck. A magnetic lump of steel, a centimetre wide, stuck an inch from freedom. Locked behind my penile gates. The chain broke. Many times, the chain broke. But the blockage was so close to the end that, with care, it could be reattached. Only to break again.

Of note here is the pinching. I hope you do not know the pain of a thin layer of penile skin being pinched repeatedly between two powerful magnets. There was blood. Even now it throbs.

The end, however, was in sight. The magnet clump was out of the danger zone, the operation zone; it was in my penis. I could control it. I could win. And, with the help of a knife and a ballpoint pen lid, I did.

Username: issuesmayexist

The texture of something horrible in your mouth is something you never forget.

When I was a freshman in high school, I was involved in a student-directed short play. I had a pretty major part in the play (relatively, the play was only about 15 minutes). In my scene, I walked into a diner, the set of the play, ordered a burger from the waitress, and ate the burger. Sounds good, right? I get to have some pretty significant stage time and eat a burger at the same time!

Well, on the day of the play (it was a one-time ordeal), something unfortunate happened.

I get chronic nosebleeds, especially during the winter months. Sometimes it's because of a nose-pick gone awry, but a lot of the time it happens completely unwarranted.

I was sitting backstage, waiting for my cue to walk out onstage and start talking to the waitress. All of a sudden, I felt something warm on my upper lip. Blood. I thought to myself: fuck, what can I do? I ran back to the changing room, which had a mirror. I looked for something, anything to wipe my nose off with. There was a towel slumped on the floor, which I used to no avail. I was listening to the action of the play, my entrance was swiftly approaching, and my nose showed no signs of stopping the flow. As I walked back to offstage right, nose gushing, I heard my cue. There was no stopping me now. As they say, the show must go on.

I entered, glancing around the audience. I spotted my dad, who's look of happiness at seeing me on stage quickly turned to horror as he saw the blood slowly collecting in the crevice of my upper lip. "Fix me up with a burger," I shouted nasally to the waitress. She maintained her theatrical persona, but you could see the disgust in her eyes. Whispers began to surface loudly in the audience, and I wiped my nose with my hand.

The waitress procured a bag of McDonald's, bought especially for this production, and pulled out a standard Mac doo's cheeseburger. "Thank you, dear," I said. In rehearsals, I was directed to take the biggest bite I could out of this cheeseburger, and chew as loudly as I could. I remembered this as I unwrapped the burger, blood now dripping onto the floor and into the wrapper. I vainly wiped my nose again, but it still showed no signs of an end.

I lifted the burger to my lips, hesitating for a second. Should I be going through with this? My mom and dad look awfully worried. I can see the theater teacher whispering in the sound booth, should I stop? Of course, while I was considering my situation, blood kept flowing, this time directly into the burger; saturating the bun with warm, sticky red. I again remembered my stage direction, to take the biggest bite I could, and I did. My teeth sunk quickly, like a knife into warm butter, stopped briefly only by the beef patty. I bit the piece off and began to chew.

It was probably the single most disgusting thing I've ever eaten in my entire life. The cheese, beef, and pickles only served to complement horribly the flavors of my own human ketchup. The best way to describe it is like pennies and that slight chlorine taste that you normally smell in semen. I sensed the warmness of the blood, and the overall saltiness of what I just put in my mouth almost made me vomit.

Still chewing, blood now dripping from both my nose and my chin, I hurriedly recited my next lines, trying to get through the play as fast as possible. Before I knew it, the play was over, the audience thoroughly horrified and my fellow cast clearly disgusted. I was greeted first by my parents, who asked if I was okay, and next by the director, who was laughing. He told me that he wasn't mad, and that this would go down in history as the craziest student production at my high school.

If there was one thing I learned that day, it's that certain things are best left to the imagination.

Username: [deleted]

This is gonna get buried but I'll tell it anyways. I was a dirty kid. I would take a shower maybe once a week and only if / when my mother forced me to. My showers usually consisted of me getting wet, making a cursory attempt at washing and then jumping out.

I lived this way until around 12 or 13 when puberty hit and I started noticing girls and then I started showering nightly and paying attention to hygiene.

The one area I always ignored was my bellybutton. I mean who really pays attention to that? I knew that when I would poke around there, I'd get a weird electric feeling in my nuts and I didn't like it so I left it alone. I have an inny by the way. That'll be important in a bit...

Well one time in the shower I was soaping up and rinsing, minding my own business and as I ran my hand down my stomach during rinsing I grazed by my belly button and I felt something hard.

I looked down and I saw something black sticking out of it. Curious I pressed around my belly button and it looked like a twig or something was coming out of it. I pressed and began to pull...

What came out of my belly button was something straight out of the depths of hell. As I pulled, what emerged was 16 years worth of lint, dirt, paper, skin misc green stuff, chili, petrified dog shit, whatever was small enough to lodge itself into my fairly deep naval.

It came out in one solid maybe 3 inch piece and was the exact size and shape of my naval canal. As I was pulling this from my belly button it felt as if someone was tugging at my guts from the inside and was a little painful but I knew I couldn't leave this abomination in me and it was half way out so I kept going.

When I finally got to the end there was a ball at the end and my belly button distended a little and I heard / felt a pop. Then the liquid came out. This brownish watery stuff came out and ran down the front of my stomach. Not a lot, it was only maybe a half ounce to an ounce but the smell...this will forever be ingrained in my memory. As I finished pulling out this conglomeration of despair and regret it released the spores of death upon the world.

It had this really strong chemical smell mixed with decay and foot cheese. I gaged and then retched all over myself in the shower. I still had the "plug in my hand" so after the dry heaving subsided I did what every red blooded American would do, I smelled the plug...and instantly began dry heaving again.

I tossed the plug onto the floor, got out of the shower, dried off and tossed it into the toilet. I inspected my belly button and it was a little red. I poked it a few times and that electric feeling I had was strangely absent. I poked around in there a bit and didn't feel anything.

My best guess is that before when I would touch my belly button I was pushing on the plug and because it was so deep it was pressing against an internal nerve or something that was directly connected to my testicle nerves. I have no idea, but since then I have been obsessively attentive to cleaning my belly button and regularly check it for any inhabitants.

Username: zomglazerspewpew

I used to work in fire demolition. I got all kinds. I'll tell you what is probably the worst. There are a few close seconds but nothing sticks in my mind quite like this does.

First a bit of background on what fire demo is like. When a building burns down, the firefighters show up and put it out. And you'd think after it's out and deemed safe, the demolition companies can come in and clean it up. While technically that's true, that's usually not the case. Usually there's a few months where the demo company squabbles with the insurance company over who will cover the costs of what part of the cleanup.

This particular demo job was in August. The building had burned down in March. We were working in the central interior of Southern BC. For those of you who have never been there, temperatures regularly hover around 40C (104F for Americans).

And this was in the middle of a heat wave in a particularly hot summer. The house was burned all the way through, but the structure was still there, and the windows were sealed up. So to get an idea of the temperatures we're dealing with, close all your windows in a heat wave and turn off your AC. The entire place was sweltering.

Something else you need to keep in mind is that when a building burns down, they cut the power to it. Now when a building is on fire, very few of the residents sit up in the night, smell smoke, and think "Fire!! I HAVE TO CLEAN OUT MY FREEZER!!". No, they usually just up and leave. Take it from personal experience, almost none of the former occupants clean out their fridges. You see where this is going.

It's late August and we've finished all the cleanup of burned out drywall and such. And now it's time to remove the appliances. We try to lift the fridge but it's too heavy to move. In retrospect we really should have gone and got a dolly, but we were kids and we thought we were too tough for that kind of thing. So I, in a flash of brilliance, suggested we empty out the fridge so it's lighter.

I go to the freezer section, open it up, and am greeted with something....obscene. That's the closest word I can think of to describe this. Unholy, maybe. Words cannot express. This person had their freezer full of various cuts of meat. Then the house had burned down in March. So for almost 6 months, in the sweltering summer heat, this meat had been festering in the freezer. Immediately upon opening it, a wave of brown-green juice sloshed out. It had chunks of tan-colored slime that looked like snot but most definitely wasn't snot. Oh god I'm almost gagging just remembering this. It splashed all over me, on my chest, down my shirt, on my pants. I *instantly* started vomiting. Into the meat slime.

My demolition partner was laughing his ass off and crying at the same time, gagging all the way through. A few minutes later when I had recovered enough we decided to try to tackle it again (as I said, we were kids and were far too stupid to know when we should call it a day).

I reached in, still covered in decomposed juices, and pulled out a bag. The bag was full of a foamy white-green liquid. I wiped away the mold on the outside of the bag enough to read what it had been. "Cooked chicken breasts".

At that moment, the bottom of the bag broke, and liquid chicken splourged out all over my legs. The smell was so bad I almost fainted. I can still feel the dense chunks in the liquid that made up what remained of the meat. I would have thrown up if I hadn't already spent the last 20 minutes doing just that.

After that we admitted defeat. Came back the next day with a dolly and the ordeal was over in a matter of minutes. Lesson learned, I suppose.

Username: PrettyBigDuck

I used to work at an adult bookstore. A pretty cool gig by rights. The only place I have ever worked where asking someone "Do you need help with buttplugs?" or "Would like some lube with that?" is taken in serious context. You get your 2 am lesbians every once in a while but take that for what it is worth. Usually when someone says lesbians they think porn star lipstick lesbos, but in reality it was usually manly bull dykes. But those bull dykes sure had some hot girlfriends.

And once, I had 2 relatively hot chicks come in and ask me if they could share a booth. I told them they could if I could watch. And they let me. It wasn't anything big just kissing and some live boob action. I think they more got off on teasing me then anything.

Anyhow I digress. The fucked up part about this job was cleaning the fap stalls. Even though we provided towel dispensers and hand sanitizers nobody ever used them. No it was more funny to unleash all over the screen or the wall or the door knob, or the floor.. Nobody ever thinks "someone has to clean this up." Or maybe they do and that is their "thing".

Anyhow...what happened... I worked the graveyard shift. We had to mop the floors of the fap stalls at least 4 times a shift (about once ever 2 hours) and the worse part was having to clean the mop bucket. After a full 9 hour shift that mop water was...well spunky.

It usually turned brown from the floor dirt and frothy for some reason. Who knew that spunk would make a froth? Anyhow, I'm done with my shift and I'm on my way out back to rinse out the bucket and my foot catches on the door seal.

Now you push the bucket with the mop handle so the force of me jamming the stick into the bottom and with the plastic water squeezer thing (I have no idea what it is called but it's the thing that you put the mop into and squeeze all the water out) in the way it caused the mop to move to the back of the bucket (towards me) and as I fall forward, I go over the bucket and the bucket tucks under me.

I let go of the handle and do the fall instinct thing...I put my arms and hands in front of me to brace the fall. I go elbow deep into the cummy mop bucket and the whole thing falls forward with me so that I now have nut water coming up the front of my shirt to my chin. The whole bucket and I go over end.

I managed to whip my face back and up so as not to get any on my face. Thank GOD I didn't get any in my mouth. When I got up I had 9 hours worth of love juice all over my shirt and in my goatee. For those of us guys who have fapped in the shower and you know how viscous and sticky it gets? Yeah, imagine that in your beard and all over your shirt, pants, hands, arms, exposed neck, etc.

I ended up scraping my elbows on the bucket itself and hurt the shit out of shoulder. My manger sent me into the doctors to get the battery of STD tests because now I had an open wound that had been exposed to GOD knows what. Imagine how scary that is, with hepatitis and HIV / AIDS (I know now that you can't get it from an open wound but this was back in the late 80's early 90's).

Everything came out negative except now I have this great fear of jizz. Even my own. I can't get that shit on me or it freaks me out.

Username: nutasmcgrootas

When I was in Ghana I stayed at a family's house that actually had a toilet, but no running water. The idea was that you flushed the toilet using a bucket of water you filled at the well, and the piping took it out to the drains automatically.

Since these people weren't all that rich and it was dry season, there was only a limited amount of water that could be wasted on something as trivial as flushing, so it was agreed that if it was yellow it would mellow. And if you'd just done a little poo, you could leave it as well, so it generally got flushed twice a day or so, at most.

In short, it stank like hell and I tried to keep my visits there to a bare minimum, sometimes going to the ditch like the locals and pissing straight in. Anyway, since there was no power quite often, I used my mobile as a torch to get around.

It was an old motorola with a kind of cover yuo had to flip off the keys for it to work. So there I am, in the middle of the night, releasing my brown liquid deamons that arrived once or twice a month, absent-mindedly playing some shitty game.

I lose, and in a silly rage snap off the cover for the keypad, that then proceeds to slip through my legs and land with a plop in the evil mix below.

9 people lived in this house. 9 people used this toilet. Everyone had been that day. I panicked. FUCK! I wouldn't be able to take the phone anywhere with me because there was no way to lock the keypad! I'd call home without realising, it would cost me a fortune! I've... got to get it back? Oh no.

So I did what any reasonable person would do and looked for a rubber glove. Fat chance. Plastic bag? Not at this time of night, it was in the master bedroom and I didn't want to wake anyone up.

Leave it till tomorrow? No, I'd oversleep and someone would flush it away without seeing it, or piss and add enough liquid for it to break into the pipes or something.

So I closed my eyes, held my breath and put my arm in. It was surprisingly deep. I tried to pick the cover off the floor but it ´was flat on the ground, meaning I had to scratch my fingers along the bottom of the toilet to pick it up. I could feel the shit inbetween my fingernails.

Other people's shit. And the liquid went up to the middle of my biceps, the warm shit and piss making me retch as I finally, triumphantly, took out the phone cover from the toilet bowl. I dumped it into a bucket full of water, scraped the shit from under my nails, took it out and flushed everything away. Then I went outside to get more water and started cleaning myself up with proper soap and everything.

Evidently I woke up the master of the house banging around with my bucket in a metal tank full of water, who asked me very kindly what I was doing in the middle of the night. Thinking I could trust him, I explained the situation to him. He laughed so hard pretty much the entire neighbourhood came to check it out.

Username: walaska

I had a staph infection. This was before I knew what the hell a staph infection was. So like anyone, I went, "Man, this is like the worst fucking mosquito bite ever." By the way, staph spreads alarmingly fast. It literally starts off as a really small boil, smaller than a pimple. And at the end of the day it's literally the size of a half dollar.

And it just gets bigger. So I finally get around to lancing it, and all this pus leaks out. Maybe a tablespoon at first? And then blood comes out. The blood is dark, so I know that I actually have a hole in my arm at this point (as opposed to a normal scrape).

This continues for a few days until I finally get myself to a doctor (local clinic closed due to holiday). Meanwhile, I'm squeezing pus and blood out of my arm for the entire time. And it's a lot of pus and blood.

Come time to see the doc, I of course get antibiotics and everything. And the nurse warns me, "Oh yeah, your arm might leak a little. But don't worry about it." By the way, leak a little is a huge fucking understatement. My arm literally turned into a fucking faucet of blood and pus.

Now at first, this was just white (like cottage cheese), and then blood right? I can deal with that...kind of. Well, as the staph worsened so did the fluids. It became a stew of pus and blood, with literally looks like someone did a bad job mixing ketchup and mayonnaise.

And since antibiotics nukes the shit out of the infection, I'm now draining stuff out of my arm two three times a week with an amount I swear to fucking god could fill up half a cup to a cup.

Now, I'm a pretty strong guy too. So while most people had to squeeze out their pus and blood, I could make a fist, and have it all leak out of my arm. On command.

By the way, did I mention that I even got to pull out an infected sweat gland? And this point I thought I was done with draining. And I started to try to pull this out (ok, I was bored). Man, talk about flood gates releasing. All of a sudden, I have blood and pus just streaming down my forearm for like five seconds.

So finally it heals. I still have a scar in the area, but it looks like just a small puncture wound (considering the fact that I had an EMPTY FUCKING CAVITY IN MY ARM, probably the same thing).

But get this, three months later I'm picking at the scar. And the area where I pulled out the sweat gland has basically filled up with this oil/fat thing. Not like a pimple but sort of like a pore that's twice the size its supposed to be.

It's healed up now. Nothing leaks out.

Username: [deleted]

It was 1999 and I was in Junior High. I was a pretty chubby 14 year old and loved to snack. My friend and I went to see The Matrix one school night. It wasn't playing at the "nice theater" it was playing at the "dirty theater".

I bought a large popcorn and covered it in a ton of the butter-like substance. Throughout the movie, I scarfed the popcorn and even left once to get the free refill.

After the movie, we were discussing Neo and his adventure when my stomach began to rumble. It was obvious I had to poop. Now this was the "dirty theater" so there is no way I was going to make a dump cake there. We weren't too far from my house so I thought I could hold it.

My friend's mom picked us up and I thought everything was cool, until the stomach pains started. The apparently very powerful colon-lubing butter had already worked its magic. It wasn't long until I was begging her to pull over at a gas station.

It was winter in Ohio and there was a lot of snow. I ran to the outside gas station bathroom but it was locked. I run inside and beg for the key to the bathroom and the attendant hands me the key. I am about to explode. I make it back through the snow to the locked bathroom and try to put the key in, but realize the lock is completely frozen. I drop the key and search for a new shitter.

Across the street is a Burger king. My friend and his mom in the minivan minivan watch me run through four lanes of traffic and into the BK.

I make it into the men's room and into the only stall. The pain is excruciating and it is obviously diarrhea. I pull my pants down and lift the lid. It is clogged. Not normal clogged either. It was just a huge pile of poop. Like a cartoon poop.

I grab the plunger and start pumping. The rubber part flips inside-out, collecting poop and water and then suddenly pops back to normal, spraying its contents everywhere.

It gets on my face and in my hair. It gets all over the seat and even in my underwear around my ankles. At this point I am either going to sit on the filthy seat and poop or just stand there and poop on the floor.

I take a seat and let loose some fecal fury. After an eternity of spraying out of my ass, I go to wipe and see the roll of toilet paper was drenched in the poop water also. I wiped my butt with someone's "used toilet paper"

I quickly exit that awful place and get back into the minivan where no one says a word the whole trip back to my house. I smell like I rolled in a cow field.

I get home and walk into my house. I have to walk through the dining room to get upstairs the the bathroom. My parents are eating with friends from church. I ignore them all and go take a shower for like 2 hours.

Username: bungchung

Back in the early 90's my best friend went through this 'native american experience' thing. Every year she would go to a huge pow wow held on the Pine Ridge Reservation in North Dakota. She was totally into this stuff and one year she decided to bring some people from the reservation home with her.

They all rode in my friends truck which had a shell over the bed where everyone packed in and slept on the way home. Two of the people were brothers, one about 15 the other in his early twenties. Their parents were passed away.

The boys were quiet, especially the younger one and both had beautiful, long black hair. The younger of the brothers always wore a hat and had this unpleasant smell about him. The second night they were home my friend noticed that her head was itching and had me take a look.

Sure enough I found some lice and we proceeded to the store and bought several bottles of lice shampoo. We also told everyone (there were seven people that had gone on the trip) to check their heads for lice.

The two brothers were staying at my friends house and we asked them if they'd like for us to check their heads for them. The older brother agreed and he had them pretty bad. We gave him the shampoo and helped him comb out the nits. Little brother was next but he balked.

At first he flatly refused to remove his hat but after we assured him that it was okay, no one was upset, everyone had gotten them, he gave in. We sat him on a stool in the bathroom in front of the mirror and took off his hat.

The entire top of his head was white with nits. From the scalp down about six inches was nothing but nits. We could see the actual lice, fat and happy and practically swarming on his head.

We quickly figured out that the unpleasant smell was the result of the rotting skin on his scalp his neck and even his shoulders. My friend and I looked at each other in horror. My first thought was 'how can he stand it? He must have had these lice living and breeding in his head for months'.

The poor kid was mortified and we did everything we could to reassure him. We helped him wash his hair with the medicated shampoo and picked nits out of his hair for hours. Finally, we gave up.

There were just too many. We made an appointment with a doctor hoping there was some way to salvage his lovely hair but the doc said 'no way'....we had to shave it.

I felt so bad for him but it was the only option. After visiting at my friends for a couple of weeks they went back home. So...that was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen. I still wince when I think of it.

Username: kalypsodore

I used to work in a wastewater treatment plant. The plant was laid out in a way that the main **30 foot** main terminated into a huge underground vault.

From that vault, there were four 125 foot long screw pumps that pulled the sludge up to the top of the plant, and the rest of the processes were gravity pulled through the plant.

At the top of screw pumps, the bar screeners pulled out all of the solids (syringes, cash, jewelry - I saw it all), and then the sewage went into two 30 yard long 10 foot wide 12 foot deep *enclosed* concrete trenches that then fed the aeration tanks.

They had shut down half of the plant so we could work in one of those trenches. We were installing new aeration wands at the inlet of each aeration tank to help prevent the buildup of solids at each inlet.

Even though there was no new material coming in, because of the way the inlets into the aeration tanks were setup, there was 2-3 inches of sewage left in the trench, which was sloped, and there was very little air circulation.

Needless to say, we were wearing protective clothing and air masks (similar to scuba), which made it very difficult to work, and because of the humidity, the facemasks clouded up real fast.

So, we're working, and the next thing I know my feet are no longer under me and I'm falling sideways. I have a pneumatic impact wrench in one hand and the hose in the other, and for whatever reason, I couldn't let go of either. I take the fall on my shoulder, the impact of which knocks my mask off.

Also, as I hit the ground, the hose I'm holding goes tight as the spotters try to pull me to my feet with the hose, but this only ends up spinning me face down into the **raw sewage**. I'll let your imagination just stew on that for a bit.....

By the time the whole incident was done, I was subjected to blood tests weekly for 6 months (employer manadated) and the plant completely revamped the processes for working in these trenches,

including opening the top of the them and covering them with removable steel plates, and installing permanent ladders (we were using fiberglass ladders).

Needless to say, I didn't stay at that job much longer after that...

Username: HippyGeek

I was on a school trip to Cuba, which was pretty cool. First night we stayed there, we were in a nice hotel, (apparently Al Capone had been there a few times back in his day) and everything was going real nice. The staff were friendly but still had that "I don't trust you white man" look about them- but not to worry, I wasn't going to be the arsehole that got us all chucked out.

There was no way I was going to be that guy.
That evening, I went for my daily shite. Nothing out of the ordinary, I played Angry Birds on my phone, I had a good time. I went to wipe- there was nothing there. Everything pointed towards me leaving that bathroom with a smile on my face. I've never been so wrong. I flushed, and stood up to put my trousers back on. Then I noticed the impeding carnage that was slowly filling up the toilet bowl.

Nothing was going down. Nothing. it was all coming up, very quickly. I didn't stress too much because this had happened before- "the weight of the water will get it and It'll be okay". Then it reached the level of the toilet seat and I knew deep down that this was a very serious situation. I turned to the door and burst out shouting "Nononononono!" and in hindsight the look on my roommate's face was priceless. I turned back to the developing disaster as the toilet continued to flush the shitwater into the bathroom, and form a mini-tsunami that was speeding for the door, and with that, the carpet of the main room. My roommate and I exchanged a quick 'fuck' look and I then decided it was time to cut my losses.

I ran into the bathroom and grabbed as many towels as I could, forming a small dam at the doorway. I then splashed to the toilet itself, and wanked off the flush handle until it stopped adding to the horrific mess. This all happened in maybe 10 seconds, but it felt like a deleted scene from Commando- it was pretty intense.

My roommate and I then assessed the damage, and concluded that we would have to sacrifice our personal towels and all of those supplied in the bathroom to absorb the filth. The bigger problem though was the thickly blocked toilet that still had fecal sludge floating up to the brim of the bowl.

Now, I have a pretty good reputation for the "Shit washes off" attitude, having grown up on a farm. I was also terrified of what the staff would do if they found out, and especially because it was our first night,

I wasn't going to run the risk of getting discovered and ejected from the hotel. I didn't think what I did next was that bad, but my roommate nearly threw up so I think this is probably the most disgusting thing I've done.

After searching for a utensil that simply didn't exist, I plunged my arm into the depth of that porcelain hell-hole and began to manually unclog the toilet. Thank god that I didn't need to properly wipe because excessive toilet paper was just not necessary at that point in time. I grabbed fistfuls of shit and just kind of broke it up the best I could, working my way deeper as I progressed to armpit depth.

It was at about this point that I refused to believe all this shit was mine, and the contrasting beige globs that began floating up confirmed that my dark mahogany log was not the only occupier of the U-bend.

Alas, my ploy succeeded and the toilet drained with a very satisfying gargling noise- there wasn't any soap supplied at the sink though so I had to 'wash' my arm with my roommates alcohol hand sanitiser.

At the end of the day, I had won against my own poo so I was pretty happy. My roommate never really treated me the same after that though.

Username: TheSilverEwok