Posted by pantiespooper on June 26, 2009 at 08:22 [76.95.39.40]
In Reply to: Re: Little accidents 18m posted by stephanie on June 25, 2009 at 17:17
There is one thing I have tried to (somewhat unsuccessfully) express, when people ask me about pooping myself in public places. For some time, I tried to analyze what I felt when I did that. I tend to wait and let my poop build up (until it is too late to get to a potty); or in a more direct phrase, I would wait until I needed a potty, and simply mis-direct my feet to be elsewhere instead. One difference between me and Matt's friend, is that I never went out with the idea of peeing - to me that was a little too visually obvious, as Matt pointed out. When it was time, I would go to the potty and carefully pee (only) to empty my bladder, knowing that, this way, what I was about to do would not be so visible.
At first there was the abject fear of getting caught with my panties full, but I ventured out anyway (usually in the big hallway downstairs from my office - it was very wide), and simply mustered the courage (that was very hard at first); I just needed to poop, I was not near a potty, and I was gonna simply relax and let it happen. Many times, I would become concerned that someone would be behind me some distance, and would look in just the right place, and notice that there was something happening there.
When I was successful with this, and continued to take my morning or afternoon walk, I began to really think about what I was feeling. As I became (what I thought was) a little more bold about it, I found it was not boldness or courage; it was more a state of abandon.
As I walked along, concentrating on relaxing (I seldom push, which is often a challenge - many of the sensations appear to be destroyed by pushing), I found that I was not thinking about being caught. Nor was I thinking of the fear that someone would notice some kind of movement in the back of my loose pants (which hid things pretty well). I found that once I began to focus on me, focus on relaxing without pushing, focus on the sensations of the act itself, and thinking of how naughty a girl could actually be, that I tended to lose thought and concern for those around me. Their image became more like I was in a dream state of some kind. They were there, and I was aware of them, but they were not concerned with me, and I was not concerned with them; I was simply taking a walk.
Matt's friend appears to be continuously in this kind of state already, but he is much more relaxed and open about his activities. I expect he feels little shame, either. He has made this (by choice or otherwise) simply a part of who he is. Stated another way, "This is what I do - this is who I am," which is just what I have said before about me.
He obviously has some level of control over what he does, and/or chooses not to draw attention to it. He just lets things happen. I have considered the possibility that he might be a little incontinent, and (again) chooses not to do things that would allow him to hide it (diapers and such).
Matt, like others here, I think I would like to hear more about your friend. I think I would like to emulate a little more of what he does. If all you found in his undies were skid-marks, then I find it doubtful that he actually lets his poop into them the way we hoped. Perhaps, one day, you can sit down with him and talk frankly about it; you might discover things that will draw the two of you closer, and, if you can share that here, maybe even provide some insight for us.
For me, it was very difficult to put myself into that state of not caring if I was around people; not caring that someone might detect what I had done; not caring what anyone else might think; but once I did, I found it very easy to do what I wanted - I simply wanted my poop in my panties.
I also find that if I can be reminded of what it is like, and be a little more like your friend, that I might be doing more things similar; or like what I used to do. I still have the tight panties and loose pant suits.
Email: pantiespooper@rocketmail.com