Cinnamon in Diapers

I was leaning against Linnéa's car. It had broken down, and we were waiting for her cousin to come pick us up.

The view of the farmlands around us would have been pretty great if I was able to pay attention. I really wasn't.

My gut was screaming at me. I needed to shit so damn badly. I was genuinely considering just stepping out to the side of the road, pulling down my pants and squatting there... But no. Cars were passing all the time, and I still hoped we could get home in time. It would be less than a 10-minute drive from where we were until I was home. As soon as the cousin could get here.

I was leaning against her car. The way I stood wasn't cool, suave, or relaxed. I was squirming, standing there with my head buried in my arms, facing the side of the car slightly hunched over. Standing up straight was out of the question. My legs were pressed tightly enough together that I thought I would grind through the fabric, or set it on fire or something. My feet refused to stay still, but at the same time walking felt impossible too.

Most of the time in the car it had been okay. I mean, I still needed to poop badly, but most of the time it was just a distraction. But in the half hour since the car stopped the cramps had come. They were a different matter. Every now and then, every minute maybe—or perhaps every ten seconds, I was too desperate to really keep track of time at this point—a new cramp would twist my stomach, and the pressure against the inside of my asshole would magnify. And when the cramps came, I had to fight hard not to squat down. I had made that mistake early on, and was now fighting to keep standing.

In between cramps, I almost felt like I could relax, let my tired muscles rest, but I found that even a moment without clenched muscles meant a new cramp started. I had been lured into that twice already. All I could do during the cramps was to try to resist squatting, press my ass cheeks together and pray that I was strong enough. I had been so far.

Linnéa could tell how desperate I was, and I think it made her uncomfortable. She hadn't said anything about it and she pretended not to see me. She said something about how her cousin would be here soon. I wasn't really listening.

A new cramp had struck, and to my horror, I felt my asshole begin to give way. I felt the shit forcing its way out. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening! I squeezed for all I was worth, focused all I had on it. The seductive urge to let go was almost overwhelming, but I couldn't do that! So clenching my butt cheeks, one hand pressed against my rear, I tried my absolute hardest to hold it. 

And... I did.

I managed to force the turtlehead back in, and I held on for the rest of the cramp. I stood there, panting, my legs quivering, the relief of having made it through that cramp fading as the realization hit that my sphincter was exhausted. I was exhausted. I didn't think I would be able to handle the—

Oh god, the next cramp was coming already. I felt the pressure build against my asshole again, and just like a few moments ago, I felt the hole begin to dilate. The reflex was simply too strong; despite what I wanted, my legs bent and spread as I half-squatted where I stood, and against my will, my body pushed. I whimpered—whined really—as I felt the log force its way past my pressed-together butt cheeks. Sticky and... so warm. Way warmer than I had expected. It just felt wrong.

I can't believe that even at that point, I was deluding myself that I wasn't shitting my pants, but when I felt the strange sensations of my panties tugging at me, as they were being stretched out from within, then I knew, then I had to admit to myself; I was pooping my pants in front of my best friend. Just as I had thought this, the log cut off with an ugly sound, and smushed itself into my panties as it settled just under my ass, but my body wasn't done.

A second push followed immediately on the first, going smoother now that the first one had cleared the way. It strained against the tight cloth and began to spread. I just gave up at that point and... just let it happen. The relief from that was a horrible feeling. But it was relief. The shit filled the seat of my pants with a horrible sticky sound, but by now I was just too worn out to care; all that filled my head now was the knowledge that I no longer needed to hold it.

Eventually, probably just a couple of minutes later, but I honestly couldn't tell, it stopped, but it felt almost as if it wasn't because I was done pooping, but instead because my pants were just so full that there was no more space for waste in them. Oh god, even a small movement caused the whole mass to shift. How could it feel so heavy?

My mind just felt empty. I had just... done that. In my pants. I almost didn't believe it. But I had, hadn't I? Ugh... it was already cooling. That was even worse than the warmth.

I heard Linnéa coming a little closer—she must've stepped back when I was... busy. I hadn't noticed—before she stammered out, with a hesitant voice, that the car was almost here. And then she asked it;

"Are you alright?"