Juan was a 28-year-old bisexual man, tall and athletic, who always attracted attention from both men and women. That night, he had a date with Laura, a girl he’d met on a dating app and whom he wanted to impress. An hour before heading out, he took what he thought was a Viagra pill. It wasn’t because he had any kind of complex or health issue; he simply wanted to catch Laura’s attention, and what better way to do that than by wearing pants two sizes small that accentuated his figure, lifted his buttocks, and drew all attention to his crotch—which would have no trouble standing out and pointing at anyone who dared to look, because he really liked Laura and was willing to spend the night with her; unfortunately, that would be his worst decision.
He searched through his roommate’s bathroom—known for its stash of pills with all sorts of effects—until he found a white, oval pill designed to enlarge the penis and balls and drastically improve erections. However, Juan, blinded by his carnal urges, didn’t realize he had accidentally ingested a laxative pill that took effect between 30 and 60 minutes—and which, due to its unfortunate resemblance to Viagra, would unleash all hell that night. Juan, unaware of the huge problem looming over him, took the opportunity to touch the bulge in his pants, massage his balls, feeling the pubic hair in his hands, then pull his member and direct it downward, “adjusting” it, before lewdly declaring, “How big it was going to get.”
Juan and Laura arrived at a famous Italian restaurant, a cozy place with dim lighting and tables that were a bit close together despite the spaciousness of the room. Laura looked spectacular, and Juan began to feel a tingling in his lower abdomen; maybe it was first-date jitters, or perhaps the excitement of having sex and having a good tool to work with, or maybe—just maybe—it could be the laxative doing its thing and making Juan’s intestines quiver.
They sat down at their table, ordered pasta and red wine, and began chatting fluidly. Fifteen minutes in, Juan started feeling some small cramps. They weren’t strong, just gentle contractions in his stomach, as if something were stirring inside. Juan considered the possibility that it might be a side effect of the Viagra, since he had no experience taking that kind of pill before. He ignored the discomfort and kept talking, laughing with her, but as he did so, he couldn’t stop thinking about his boner; for the moment, it remained limp inside his briefs, but he expected the blood to rush in at any moment and swell it gloriously.
As he ate the fettuccine, his stomach growled audibly; only Juan could hear it, though to him it felt as if everyone had heard it. A small but persistent cramp ran through his gut. He felt a strange emptiness in the upper part of his abdomen, as if all its contents were being pushed downward with unusual haste. At the same time, a warm, heavy sensation slowly descended through his gut, filling his intestines. Before leaving, Juan had taken the precaution of shitting and avoiding heavy foods; however, he realized that his stomach was acting as if it were digesting something, which was strange, since he didn’t feel that the pasta or wine had gone bad, and Laura didn’t notice anything odd about the food either.
So, is this something to do with him? Or is Laura lying too? No, that can’t be. “This is just happening to me.” It was obvious that sooner or later he’d have to excuse himself to the bathroom, but the strangest thing of all was that he wasn’t 100% sure which was the case. For the moment, his stomach was churning, but he didn’t know if it was anything to worry about, since he felt fine. Doubts kept forming in Juan’s head, until a random event was taken as a sign that everything was fine: his penis gave a slight twitch inside his pants, and he smiled inwardly with some relief. “It’s probably just the blood settling or something like that; since I’m not used to this, it’s giving me cramps. If I’d known, I would have eaten something before taking it.”
The conversation continued; it seemed like everything was going great and Juan was definitely going to sleep with Laura. By this point, Juan was starting to think that maybe he didn’t need the Viagra to kick in anymore, since Laura was flirtatiously touching his arm and the chemistry was palpable. Juan concluded that either the Viagra was taking a long time to work or he had simply taken something that wasn’t Viagra. At that moment, he reached for his fly and began to pull and stretch his penis, as Laura’s attitude was already getting him hard.
Then a spasm struck. A brutal cramp shot through his stomach, and he writhed in pain as it contracted violently. Juan felt as if a knife were stabbing him from the inside out; suddenly, his body was no longer his own, and he felt a hand squeezing his intestines tightly, wringing out whatever was inside them like toothpaste. A “lump” that was actually a soft, hot, and abundant mass slid briefly through the large intestine until it came to a halt. Juan stopped talking for a moment, waiting for another movement, and so it was; once again his stomach twisted and the shit slid down until it was once more suspended in a lower section of the large intestine that leads inexorably toward his sphincter. A wave of heat rose up Juan’s back; he felt his face burning so intensely that for a moment he thought he was being burned alive. He began to sweat profusely, but decided to continue the conversation to avoid drawing even more attention.
While he pretended to pay attention to Laura, under the table he kept his legs tightly together and was clenching his buttocks in a futile effort to prevent a disaster. Unfortunately, Juan’s anal sphincter opened involuntarily, and a hot fart escaped. The sound burst out and collided with Juan’s clenched buttocks, which only echoed it and amplified its intensity. Luckily, the chair and his pants muffled the sound; while it wasn’t a loud sound, if you’d paid close enough attention, you would have been able to hear it. Juan fell silent again, waiting for Laura’s reaction, but she kept talking as if nothing had happened. Juan thanked God he hadn’t been heard and kept clenching his butt; this time he crossed his legs. The pungent smell rose to Juan’s nostrils, and he knew this would be the worst shit he’d ever taken. Luckily, Laura didn’t seem to notice, though two men at the table behind him turned toward Juan, glancing at him discreetly and wrinkling their noses in disgust.
Juan’s stomach growled again, and he knew immediately that this wasn’t going to be the last fart. He braced himself, and when another spasm caused his sphincter to relax, he coughed loudly to cover it up; he achieved his goal, but his cough was so forced and exaggerated that Laura began to pay closer attention and grow concerned. The farts were getting longer and gurgling louder, and Juan was finding it increasingly difficult to hide them, as were the men behind him, who weren’t hiding their displeasure either.
Juan was trying hard to control his sphincter, but another spasm hit him, more intense. This time he felt the fecal mass pressing directly against his anus—hot, soft, and treacherous. His balls were tense from the effort and clenched just like his ass; they were sweaty, and not even Viagra could have made them relax. “I’m going to shit myself, I need a bathroom, I must have taken something that made me sick—it was definitely that pill,” Juan kept telling himself, feeling more and more regretful.
“Excuse me a second,” he said in a tense voice, standing up.
As he turned toward the bathroom, another fart escaped him, which he covered up with a cough that was a second too late. To this day, it remains a mystery whether Laura heard it or not, and he set off walking, trying not to spread his legs too wide. As he walked toward the bathroom, the urgency became more palpable. He grabbed his butt with one hand over his pants, feeling a hot, wet fart escape between his butt cheeks; “wet” is a relative term, since he wasn’t sure if he’d let out a wet fart or if it just felt wet because of sweat. Either way, he placed his other hand on his stomach, which was visibly twisting beneath his shirt. However, the situation worsened, and he felt his anus dilate and throb, so he ran the last few meters with both hands on his butt, clenching his buttocks in desperation at the impending catastrophe.
He walked into the men’s restroom, slipped into the first stall he saw, shut the door clumsily and desperately, pulled down his pants and underwear in one swift motion, closed his eyes, and—for the first time all day—voluntarily relaxed his sphincter, letting out one last fart that heralded the shitstorm. The relief was immediate and brutal: an explosive stream of soft, hot, and abundant shit shot out of his anus. Juan moaned with pleasure at the release, sweating profusely, his knees slightly bent.
He opened his eyes, triumphant; his stomach had emptied completely and he no longer felt sick. It was then that he realized an important detail and quickly froze. The relief turned into bitter fear. Juan realized he hadn’t heard the shit splash against the toilet; in fact, he hadn’t even felt the toilet seat, because, for starters, he had never sat on a toilet.
Juan, terrified and in denial, slowly looked down, and there he was, standing, with his pants and underwear around his ankles, covered in liquid shit; he had shit all over himself, even the floor of the stall. A soft, dark brown, stinking pile spread out beneath his shoes. The smell was thick, sour, and pungent; small pools of liquid trickled down his thighs.
“Fuck! Goddamn it!” he whispered, ashamed and angry.
He sprang into action, since he couldn’t keep Laura waiting, and stripped down completely; the only thing covering him now was his sweaty shirt. He tried to clean himself up as best he could with paper towels, but the mess was massive. He locked himself in the bathroom and began washing his underwear and pants in the sink, using liquid soap and water. The smell seeped out from under the door. Outside, several men began to line up.
“Hey, are you okay in there?” one asked.
“Yeah! Just a second!” Juan replied in a muffled voice, frantically scrubbing the stained fabric.
The line grew; they knocked on the door several times. Someone threatened to call the manager. Juan, with a dirty ass, his balls hanging out, exposed to the cold bathroom air, sweating and cursing, managed to get rid of as much shit as possible and put on his underwear; the damp, stinking fabric slipped between his butt cheeks and stuck to his balls. His penis shriveled from the cold, the dampness, the disgust, and the shame; then he put on his wet, stained pants, which, from so many washes, had turned a darker shade than the original.
Since they were soaked, they stuck to his skin—which under other circumstances would have been an advantage, but right now only serves to highlight his misfortune. It’s so tight that it’s uncomfortable to look at and wear, not to mention that it stinks of shit diluted in water. His bulge is easy to make out; since it’s wet and clinging to his skin, you can make out its outline and shape and see just how compressed it’s become. Juan tries to pull it out a little, but it doesn’t change much. He stumbled out of the stall as best he could, red with embarrassment, avoiding the looks of disgust from the men waiting.
Laura saw him return to the table pale, sweaty, smelling suspicious, and covering his crotch; she noticed the change in his pants, but thought it was just an effect of the restaurant lighting.
“Are you okay? You look… weird.”
Juan, defeated, told her he had to leave because of an emergency and that they should meet up again; he left the money on the table and walked out without even listening to Laura. She watched him go, confused by his sudden change in attitude, until she caught the whiff of shit reaching her nose, and, though she had no idea what had happened, she decided to go home.
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