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I'm sorry that's it's been a while since my last TVPC story. I've just been so busy at work these past several months that I haven't had the time. My company purchased several stores and integrating their systems into ours has just been a nightmare. Unfortunately, I don't see the situation getting much better in the immediate future. Writing the TVPC is indeed a labor of love but it is time consuming.
In the meantime, I have dusted off some material that I've collected over the years and I'll post them here for you until I can get back to the TVPC. I wish I could tell you where some of these stories came from but some of these go way back and I never made note of their origin.
Enjoy
My older sister and I are four years apart but in spite of the age difference, we have always been very close. When I was a freshman in high school, she was a freshman in college. She was very eager to have me visit her at college and I was very easy to accept. So when her roommate was going to be away for a long weekend, we arranged that I was going to spend the weekend with her at college. I took the train (about a 2 ½ ride) after school on Friday afternoon and the plan was to go back – again, by train – on Monday afternoon. It seemed like a good plan and I was really looking forward to it.
What I somehow hadn’t considered, however, was the situation with dormitory bathrooms. I think I just assumed that a dorm room was like a hotel room – specifically, that each room had its own private bathroom attached. But it wasn’t like that. It was a large communal bathroom down the hall and I simply wasn’t prepared for that. Specifically, I wasn’t prepared for handling #2 like that. I was, of course, used to urinating in public bathrooms but going #2 presented a problem for me. From the time that I was little or at least for as long as I remember, I’d always been a bit shy about going #2 and I simply refused to do that in public bathrooms. This obviously created major problems for me over the years – especially at school. But, as the years went on, I got to be very good at holding it in and my problem – at least when it came to having accidents in my pants – stopped being such an issue. But it wasn’t that I’d actually go at school or elsewhere. It was just that holding it in all day at school – or even longer – had become quite easy for me.
But while holding it in daily until I got home from school was one thing, holding it in for an entire weekend was something else entirely. Now, sharing a dorm room with my sister – with its bathroom down the hall – I suddenly had a major problem. Common sense should I have told me that I couldn’t hold it in for an entire weekend. I really should have figured out that I really had no choice but to go in the bathroom down the hall. But old habits are hard to break. I peed in there, of course, but I just stubbornly refused to also go #2 in there.
In hindsight, the dorm bathroom really wasn’t bad at all. I really should have just accepted having to use it. I mean, I was in high school at the time and I really should have known better. At the very least I should have confided in my sister – who had no idea that I still had a problem with public bathrooms – and she could have probably taken me to a bathroom in a classroom building or someplace that was more private. I mean, since I hadn’t had any accidents since I was little (or at least 3rd or 4th grade), she no doubt assumed that I’d outgrown the problem and never even considered that the dorm bathroom might be a problem for me. Well, as I said, old habits are hard to break. From the time I first had to go #2 on Saturday morning, I was determined to simply hold it in. Whether I really thought I could actually hold it in for an entire 3-day weekend, I’m not sure. I didn’t actually rationalize it that much in my mind. I just basically told myself that I simply don’t do that kind of thing in public bathrooms and that since the communal bathroom there was the only bathroom around, I’d just have to hold it.
Holding it in through Saturday was actually quite easy. I guess my body was used to that. But waking up Sunday morning, it started to get more difficult. I guess by then, I was holding in two days’ worth. But, of course, it only got worse after that. By Sunday night after dinner, I was really struggling to hold it in. When I went to the bathroom to pee that night, it was quite difficult to just let myself pee while I was desperately holding in my poop. It was just so stupid of me to be doing one but holding in the other, but there I was. Obviously, I should have taken a cue from my big sister – who was in the stall next to me doing both – and let the bowel movement out as well. But, as old habits are hard to break, I just didn’t.
Monday morning – now holding in a triple load, I guess – it’s hard to accurately describe just how bad I had to go. But I just kept comforting myself on the notion that I was going to be home later that afternoon and it wouldn’t be long now before I’d be using my own toilet at home. I think it was the thought of that that was giving me the strength to hold it in. Well, I did make it to the train Monday afternoon. I guess I was lucky it didn’t happen in the dorm in front of my sister’s friends. No sooner did I take my seat on the train, though, when suddenly I felt my bowel movement really starting to push. Now, I’d been successfully pushing back against my bowels for most of the weekend, but I could tell immediately that this time was different. This time, I knew I was in trouble.
Suddenly, this huge stick of poop was splitting my butt cheeks and pushing out into my panties. I, of course, tried to push back against it, but it was futile. All I could do know was just sit there on the train as my bowel movement was coming out. More and more was coming out and I was just powerless to stop it. The one saving grace was that it was all dry and hard. But it sure was a lot. I hadn’t gone for 3 days and this sure did seem like a 3-day load. When it was finally done, it felt like I was sitting on a pile of rocks in my pants. It felt like maybe 2 days’ worth was actually in my panties with another day’s worth still stuck between my butt cheeks or still stuck inside me. It felt awful – to say the least – but that’s how I rode home on the train that day.
When my dad picked me up at the train station, it was simply impossible to hide what I’d done. It fortunately hadn’t leaked through to my jeans – at least not the outside of my jeans – but the load itself was just too big to conceal. It was such a huge load in my panties that it created a bulge in the seat of my jeans that was simply impossible not to notice. Needless to say, my father was quite surprised to see that his high school age daughter had pooped in her pants. I tried to explain it by saying that I suddenly had to go on the train and didn’t want to use the train bathroom. I thought that sounded better than admitting that I hadn’t gone all weekend because I didn’t want to use the bathroom in the dormitory. My dad was surprised – he said he was surprised I’d rather go in my pants than use the bathroom on the train – but at least he seemed to accept that explanation. In hindsight, it seems like a lame excuse given how big a load I had in my pants, but I guess that wasn’t readily obvious to my dad in the car. I don’t really think he wanted to deal with it at all. I think he was just uncomfortable with the whole situation – like guys are uncomfortable hearing about girls’ periods and stuff – and really didn’t want to press me for details. Either way, he didn’t really yell at me or anything. He just kind of accepted that I had done it and it was my problem to deal with and not his.
My mother was a bit less sympathetic. She said that she didn’t care how bad the bathroom on the train was – there as simply no excuse for my going in my pants rather than using it. She told me that I should be ashamed of myself and that it was an absolute disgrace for a girl my age to go in her pants like this. She said I was lucky it was my father who picked me up at the train station because she’d have made me walk home rather than get in her car with a mess in my pants. She was probably kidding (it was a long walk from the train station to our house) but she was pretty angry. I kept thinking what she would have thought had she known the truth about me refusing to go in the dormitory bathroom. But she, too, just seemed to accept my explanation that it happened on the train because I didn’t want to use the bathroom there. I have no doubt, though, that it would have been worse – I probably would have gotten punished instead of only shamed – if mom had known the real story. She told me that if I ever did it again (that is, go in my pants again) – no matter what the circumstances – that I would indeed be punished.
As it was, the only punishment I got – and mom even insisted that it wasn’t really a punishment – was having to clean up the mess. My jeans (although the mess hadn’t leaked all the way through) had gotten soiled on the inside and I had to scrub those clean. But the worst, of course, was dealing with my soiled panties. Mom made me clean those as well. A good portion of the load – solid as it was – could be gotten out by simply dumping the load into the toilet. But beyond that, my panties were still quite soiled and I had to scrub them clean in the sink. All the while with mom standing over me, shaming me further and telling me that this is what happens when I go in my pants instead of in the toilet like I should. The thing was that she actually got to see how big the load in my panties actually was. And I have to consider myself lucky that she never questioned how I could have had such a huge accident from simply not going on the train. How she didn’t come to realize that it had come from me holding it in all weekend is beyond me. All in all, I guess I was heavily shamed and embarrassed, but not getting further punished, I have to consider myself pretty lucky. And lucky, too, that it waited until the train to happen and not in the dorm in front of my sister and her friends.
My sister didn’t even find out about it until 3 years later as I was getting ready for college myself. My sister never had any issues with bathrooms herself, but she told me that her freshman year, there were some girls in the dorm that did. She told me that after a while they just got used to it and pooping in the dorm was no longer such a big deal for them. She no doubt remembered the problems I’d had with accidents when I was younger and wouldn’t go in public bathrooms when I needed to. She told me to always remember that if I’m embarrassed to be pooping in the dorm bathroom, just think of how embarrassing it would be to have to clean-up in there after an accident in my pants. That was something that I thought about a lot as I prepared for college.
Now, I’d like to think that I could have ultimately dealt with the large, communal dorm bathrooms when I went to college. Like my sister said, I’d have quickly gotten used to pooping in there. But still, when I did go to college, I was sure to move into a dorm that wasn’t like that. Instead, the dorm I moved into was like apartment-style living. They had 2-bedroom suites and each suite had its own bathroom. So, as it was, I only had to share my bathroom with 3 other people and that wasn’t so bad at all. It wasn’t all that different from sharing a bathroom with my sister at home. So we’ll never really know how I’d have dealt with communal dorm bathrooms, but I’d certainly like to think that I wouldn’t have been messing in my panties in college. I used the bathroom in my dorm “apartment” just fine in college and I gradually became more and more comfortable using other bathrooms on campus and eventually other public bathrooms in general.
I never did mess in my panties again.
In the meantime, I have dusted off some material that I've collected over the years and I'll post them here for you until I can get back to the TVPC. I wish I could tell you where some of these stories came from but some of these go way back and I never made note of their origin.
Enjoy
My older sister and I are four years apart but in spite of the age difference, we have always been very close. When I was a freshman in high school, she was a freshman in college. She was very eager to have me visit her at college and I was very easy to accept. So when her roommate was going to be away for a long weekend, we arranged that I was going to spend the weekend with her at college. I took the train (about a 2 ½ ride) after school on Friday afternoon and the plan was to go back – again, by train – on Monday afternoon. It seemed like a good plan and I was really looking forward to it.
What I somehow hadn’t considered, however, was the situation with dormitory bathrooms. I think I just assumed that a dorm room was like a hotel room – specifically, that each room had its own private bathroom attached. But it wasn’t like that. It was a large communal bathroom down the hall and I simply wasn’t prepared for that. Specifically, I wasn’t prepared for handling #2 like that. I was, of course, used to urinating in public bathrooms but going #2 presented a problem for me. From the time that I was little or at least for as long as I remember, I’d always been a bit shy about going #2 and I simply refused to do that in public bathrooms. This obviously created major problems for me over the years – especially at school. But, as the years went on, I got to be very good at holding it in and my problem – at least when it came to having accidents in my pants – stopped being such an issue. But it wasn’t that I’d actually go at school or elsewhere. It was just that holding it in all day at school – or even longer – had become quite easy for me.
But while holding it in daily until I got home from school was one thing, holding it in for an entire weekend was something else entirely. Now, sharing a dorm room with my sister – with its bathroom down the hall – I suddenly had a major problem. Common sense should I have told me that I couldn’t hold it in for an entire weekend. I really should have figured out that I really had no choice but to go in the bathroom down the hall. But old habits are hard to break. I peed in there, of course, but I just stubbornly refused to also go #2 in there.
In hindsight, the dorm bathroom really wasn’t bad at all. I really should have just accepted having to use it. I mean, I was in high school at the time and I really should have known better. At the very least I should have confided in my sister – who had no idea that I still had a problem with public bathrooms – and she could have probably taken me to a bathroom in a classroom building or someplace that was more private. I mean, since I hadn’t had any accidents since I was little (or at least 3rd or 4th grade), she no doubt assumed that I’d outgrown the problem and never even considered that the dorm bathroom might be a problem for me. Well, as I said, old habits are hard to break. From the time I first had to go #2 on Saturday morning, I was determined to simply hold it in. Whether I really thought I could actually hold it in for an entire 3-day weekend, I’m not sure. I didn’t actually rationalize it that much in my mind. I just basically told myself that I simply don’t do that kind of thing in public bathrooms and that since the communal bathroom there was the only bathroom around, I’d just have to hold it.
Holding it in through Saturday was actually quite easy. I guess my body was used to that. But waking up Sunday morning, it started to get more difficult. I guess by then, I was holding in two days’ worth. But, of course, it only got worse after that. By Sunday night after dinner, I was really struggling to hold it in. When I went to the bathroom to pee that night, it was quite difficult to just let myself pee while I was desperately holding in my poop. It was just so stupid of me to be doing one but holding in the other, but there I was. Obviously, I should have taken a cue from my big sister – who was in the stall next to me doing both – and let the bowel movement out as well. But, as old habits are hard to break, I just didn’t.
Monday morning – now holding in a triple load, I guess – it’s hard to accurately describe just how bad I had to go. But I just kept comforting myself on the notion that I was going to be home later that afternoon and it wouldn’t be long now before I’d be using my own toilet at home. I think it was the thought of that that was giving me the strength to hold it in. Well, I did make it to the train Monday afternoon. I guess I was lucky it didn’t happen in the dorm in front of my sister’s friends. No sooner did I take my seat on the train, though, when suddenly I felt my bowel movement really starting to push. Now, I’d been successfully pushing back against my bowels for most of the weekend, but I could tell immediately that this time was different. This time, I knew I was in trouble.
Suddenly, this huge stick of poop was splitting my butt cheeks and pushing out into my panties. I, of course, tried to push back against it, but it was futile. All I could do know was just sit there on the train as my bowel movement was coming out. More and more was coming out and I was just powerless to stop it. The one saving grace was that it was all dry and hard. But it sure was a lot. I hadn’t gone for 3 days and this sure did seem like a 3-day load. When it was finally done, it felt like I was sitting on a pile of rocks in my pants. It felt like maybe 2 days’ worth was actually in my panties with another day’s worth still stuck between my butt cheeks or still stuck inside me. It felt awful – to say the least – but that’s how I rode home on the train that day.
When my dad picked me up at the train station, it was simply impossible to hide what I’d done. It fortunately hadn’t leaked through to my jeans – at least not the outside of my jeans – but the load itself was just too big to conceal. It was such a huge load in my panties that it created a bulge in the seat of my jeans that was simply impossible not to notice. Needless to say, my father was quite surprised to see that his high school age daughter had pooped in her pants. I tried to explain it by saying that I suddenly had to go on the train and didn’t want to use the train bathroom. I thought that sounded better than admitting that I hadn’t gone all weekend because I didn’t want to use the bathroom in the dormitory. My dad was surprised – he said he was surprised I’d rather go in my pants than use the bathroom on the train – but at least he seemed to accept that explanation. In hindsight, it seems like a lame excuse given how big a load I had in my pants, but I guess that wasn’t readily obvious to my dad in the car. I don’t really think he wanted to deal with it at all. I think he was just uncomfortable with the whole situation – like guys are uncomfortable hearing about girls’ periods and stuff – and really didn’t want to press me for details. Either way, he didn’t really yell at me or anything. He just kind of accepted that I had done it and it was my problem to deal with and not his.
My mother was a bit less sympathetic. She said that she didn’t care how bad the bathroom on the train was – there as simply no excuse for my going in my pants rather than using it. She told me that I should be ashamed of myself and that it was an absolute disgrace for a girl my age to go in her pants like this. She said I was lucky it was my father who picked me up at the train station because she’d have made me walk home rather than get in her car with a mess in my pants. She was probably kidding (it was a long walk from the train station to our house) but she was pretty angry. I kept thinking what she would have thought had she known the truth about me refusing to go in the dormitory bathroom. But she, too, just seemed to accept my explanation that it happened on the train because I didn’t want to use the bathroom there. I have no doubt, though, that it would have been worse – I probably would have gotten punished instead of only shamed – if mom had known the real story. She told me that if I ever did it again (that is, go in my pants again) – no matter what the circumstances – that I would indeed be punished.
As it was, the only punishment I got – and mom even insisted that it wasn’t really a punishment – was having to clean up the mess. My jeans (although the mess hadn’t leaked all the way through) had gotten soiled on the inside and I had to scrub those clean. But the worst, of course, was dealing with my soiled panties. Mom made me clean those as well. A good portion of the load – solid as it was – could be gotten out by simply dumping the load into the toilet. But beyond that, my panties were still quite soiled and I had to scrub them clean in the sink. All the while with mom standing over me, shaming me further and telling me that this is what happens when I go in my pants instead of in the toilet like I should. The thing was that she actually got to see how big the load in my panties actually was. And I have to consider myself lucky that she never questioned how I could have had such a huge accident from simply not going on the train. How she didn’t come to realize that it had come from me holding it in all weekend is beyond me. All in all, I guess I was heavily shamed and embarrassed, but not getting further punished, I have to consider myself pretty lucky. And lucky, too, that it waited until the train to happen and not in the dorm in front of my sister and her friends.
My sister didn’t even find out about it until 3 years later as I was getting ready for college myself. My sister never had any issues with bathrooms herself, but she told me that her freshman year, there were some girls in the dorm that did. She told me that after a while they just got used to it and pooping in the dorm was no longer such a big deal for them. She no doubt remembered the problems I’d had with accidents when I was younger and wouldn’t go in public bathrooms when I needed to. She told me to always remember that if I’m embarrassed to be pooping in the dorm bathroom, just think of how embarrassing it would be to have to clean-up in there after an accident in my pants. That was something that I thought about a lot as I prepared for college.
Now, I’d like to think that I could have ultimately dealt with the large, communal dorm bathrooms when I went to college. Like my sister said, I’d have quickly gotten used to pooping in there. But still, when I did go to college, I was sure to move into a dorm that wasn’t like that. Instead, the dorm I moved into was like apartment-style living. They had 2-bedroom suites and each suite had its own bathroom. So, as it was, I only had to share my bathroom with 3 other people and that wasn’t so bad at all. It wasn’t all that different from sharing a bathroom with my sister at home. So we’ll never really know how I’d have dealt with communal dorm bathrooms, but I’d certainly like to think that I wouldn’t have been messing in my panties in college. I used the bathroom in my dorm “apartment” just fine in college and I gradually became more and more comfortable using other bathrooms on campus and eventually other public bathrooms in general.
I never did mess in my panties again.