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(Issue #59)
Dear Sandy,
I’m a 23-year-old woman writing to you for the first time. When I was sixteen, I spent three and a half months in a juvenile reformatory on a drug charge. Though the place was not as bad as the movies often portray, it is definitely not a time of my life that I'd like to live over again. From the first day I arrived there, I resolved to behave myself so I could get out after serving only my minimum sentence - which I did. After I got out, I resolved to straighten out my life so I'd never get sent back there or someplace worse. Looking back, though, my time there taught me two valuable lessons. First, it got me to straighten out my life for good. I'll be graduating from college this spring, possibly with honors, with a degree in Accounting. Second, it was there that I discovered my fetish for pooping in my panties.
During the day, girls moved throughout the reformatory on work details, going to classes and lectures, meals, and a leisure hour after dinner. From 7:30 PM to 7:30 AM, however, everyone was locked into his room/cell. There were no toilets in the individual cells. For this purpose, each girl was issued something called-a "pee pot" each night. Basically it was nothing more than a glorified bedpan that a girl would have to squat over to pee into. Each morning when they unlocked the cells, you had to dump it out into the toilet. Periodically they gave each girl a small box of thin tissues to wipe with in the cell. It took me a while getting use to using the pee pot (and wiping with thin tissues rather than regular toilet paper), but not being able to hold it in for 12 hours each night (some girls could), I had no choice but to use it.
Though they were called pee pots, they were large enough to use for the other reason and occasionally when a girl had to move her bowels at night, the pee pot would have to serve that purpose as well. Towards the end of my second week there I had to do a bowel movement in one of them for the first time. It was then that I discovered why most of the other girls were always sitting in the lavatory trying to have a bowel movement right before room lock time. Not only was going in the pee pot unpleasant and it stunk up your cell, but also a girl who defecated in the pee pot was assigned the work detail of washing out all the pee pots the next day. You were allowed to make in the pee pot, so they insisted that this work detail was not a punishment, but what else would you call "pee pot duty?" Either way, it was a strong encouragement for girls to move their bowels before being locked in the cell each night. I guess that was the idea.
Luckily, on that first night when I had my first bowel movement in the pee pot, there were three other girls who made in the pee pots, so I got to split the work with them. Most of the time when I had to clean them, I got to split the work with at least one other girl, but one night I was the only girl to have had a bowel movement and I had to clean over 150 pee pots all by myself.
After my first time on "pee pot duty," I resolved to have had my last bowel movement in one of them. Every night after dinner, I would go into the john and try really hard to make in the toilet, so I wouldn't have to do it during the night. After a while my bowels seemed to be trained to usually function at this time. Other times, I would wake up in the morning having to go poops but was able to hold it in until the cells were unlocked at 7:30 AM and I could run to the toilet. It wasn't until maybe a month after my first one that I had my second nighttime bowel movement in this place. It was this one that I did in my pants.
One night after dinner, my stomach was feeling really full but my bowels simply would not move. I sat on the toilet for nearly half an hour that night, but still could not go. But once locked in my cell and getting ready for bed, my bowels began to call f6r relief. At first, it wasn't so bad and I was able to hold it in and fall asleep. But I awoke in the middle of the night (I'd say around 4:00 AM) and my bowels felt as though they were about ready to burst. Still half asleep, I was trying to ascertain whether I could hold it in until morning or if I should squat down and go in the pot, when suddenly, it became a moot point.
Suddenly, my panties were full of thick, soft, messy poop. I guess I had waited so long and my bowels had to move so bad, that they did so before I had a chance to get my nightie up or my panties down. Needless to say, I was very embarrassed and ashamed of myself.
It was impossible for me to clean up in the cell. The thin tissues they gave us to wipe with were barely enough to wipe with after a regular bowel movement, much less cleaning up after a messy one. And feeling
so much of the sticky kind of poop all over my backside, I could tell it was a clean-up better suited to the shower than toilet paper or even a washcloth. I just had to sit in my cell in the mess and wait for morning. First thing in the morning, I told the matron on my floor what had happened. I was hoping I'd be allowed to shower and change clothes immediately. Instead, she gave me a long indescribable look of disgust and then led me down the hall to "discipline wing. " She put me into one of the isolation cells (more commonly known as "the hole") and told me I had 24 hours in there to think about what I had done. Isolation was where they put you for punishment. It was a small locked room without windows. and you weren't allowed out at all. It had just a sleeping bag with no pillow to sleep on, and a pee pot without a lid in the corner.
At first, I was horrified at the thought of getting sent here now. Isolation wasn't so bad in itself as the punishment cells weren't that much worse than the regular cells, and one day in there wasn't so bad at all.
(For certain things, you could get fifteen straight days in there and that would drive me crazy). But not being allowed to clean up my accident first meant I'd have to stay in there all day with the mess in my pants. I just climbed into my sleeping bag and just burst into tears, horrified at the thought of having to lie there all day with a shitty mess in my panties and all over my behind. I also noticed that the matron didn't leave any toilet paper or tissues with the pee pot, so just in case I had any thoughts of trying to clean myself up in here, they were quickly put to rest. Obviously, she had intended I feel the full effect of going to the bathroom in my pants.
And feel the full effect I did. But a funny thing happened to me during the punishment. My feelings of disgust at the load in my panties quickly disappeared and eventually were replaced by lust. I spent practically my entire day in isolation, masturbating in my sleeping bag. My messy panties were really turning me on in a big way and the one big advantage of being in isolation was that it gave me more privacy to masturbate. You could do it in the regular cells (heaven knows I couldn’t go three-and-a-half months without it), but you’d always have people looking into your cell while you were doing it. But in isolation, masturbating was just pure uninterrupted bliss. Actually, the day in there went pretty quickly as I was doing myself practically the whole time.
Later in the day when I had to move my bowels again, I just let the load out in my panties and in a matter of seconds afterwards had a deep, mind-blowing orgasm. The next morning, I was allowed a shower and change of clothes. My only further punishment was having to clean out my loaded (and I do mean loaded, after two healthy bowel movements) panties in the toilet.
For my remaining two-and-a-half months at the reformatory, I was dying to mess in my panties again. I actually had dreams about messing myself, and most of the time when I masturbated, I did so to panty pooping fantasies. Especially at night, when I squatted over the pee pot to defecate on several occasions, how I longed just to let go in my pants and avoid "pee pot duty" the next day. That time when I had to clean 150 pee pots myself, oh how I wished I could have just let it out in my pants and avoided all this. But I knew I just couldn't do that. It wasn't that I feared being sent to solitary again, (in fact, I welcomed it for its privacy to masturbate), but it was considered a disciplinary action and the matron warned me that two disciplinary actions would automatically disqualify me for early release. She assured me that the first one wasn't so bad, especially for something relatively minor like this, but a second accident would delay my release. And I didn't want to spend one more day in that fucking hell-hole than I had to. So whenever nature called on me, I dutifully used the toilet (and occasionally, when necessary, a pee pot) like a good little girl. But I lusted to do more messes.
My first night out of that place, I went out to dinner with my parents. When we got home, I went straight to my room and let out such a magnificent bowel movement in my panties, that I had an orgasm right there on the spot. And masturbating in my bedroom in messy panties is even better than doing so in the isolation cell in jail. Subsequently there have been countless times I've gone in my pants and had countless orgasms from masturbating in messy panties. I feel like crying when I'm out somewhere and have to waste a bowel movement in the toilet.
That's the story of my fetish and how it started.
Dear Sandy,
I’m a 23-year-old woman writing to you for the first time. When I was sixteen, I spent three and a half months in a juvenile reformatory on a drug charge. Though the place was not as bad as the movies often portray, it is definitely not a time of my life that I'd like to live over again. From the first day I arrived there, I resolved to behave myself so I could get out after serving only my minimum sentence - which I did. After I got out, I resolved to straighten out my life so I'd never get sent back there or someplace worse. Looking back, though, my time there taught me two valuable lessons. First, it got me to straighten out my life for good. I'll be graduating from college this spring, possibly with honors, with a degree in Accounting. Second, it was there that I discovered my fetish for pooping in my panties.
During the day, girls moved throughout the reformatory on work details, going to classes and lectures, meals, and a leisure hour after dinner. From 7:30 PM to 7:30 AM, however, everyone was locked into his room/cell. There were no toilets in the individual cells. For this purpose, each girl was issued something called-a "pee pot" each night. Basically it was nothing more than a glorified bedpan that a girl would have to squat over to pee into. Each morning when they unlocked the cells, you had to dump it out into the toilet. Periodically they gave each girl a small box of thin tissues to wipe with in the cell. It took me a while getting use to using the pee pot (and wiping with thin tissues rather than regular toilet paper), but not being able to hold it in for 12 hours each night (some girls could), I had no choice but to use it.
Though they were called pee pots, they were large enough to use for the other reason and occasionally when a girl had to move her bowels at night, the pee pot would have to serve that purpose as well. Towards the end of my second week there I had to do a bowel movement in one of them for the first time. It was then that I discovered why most of the other girls were always sitting in the lavatory trying to have a bowel movement right before room lock time. Not only was going in the pee pot unpleasant and it stunk up your cell, but also a girl who defecated in the pee pot was assigned the work detail of washing out all the pee pots the next day. You were allowed to make in the pee pot, so they insisted that this work detail was not a punishment, but what else would you call "pee pot duty?" Either way, it was a strong encouragement for girls to move their bowels before being locked in the cell each night. I guess that was the idea.
Luckily, on that first night when I had my first bowel movement in the pee pot, there were three other girls who made in the pee pots, so I got to split the work with them. Most of the time when I had to clean them, I got to split the work with at least one other girl, but one night I was the only girl to have had a bowel movement and I had to clean over 150 pee pots all by myself.
After my first time on "pee pot duty," I resolved to have had my last bowel movement in one of them. Every night after dinner, I would go into the john and try really hard to make in the toilet, so I wouldn't have to do it during the night. After a while my bowels seemed to be trained to usually function at this time. Other times, I would wake up in the morning having to go poops but was able to hold it in until the cells were unlocked at 7:30 AM and I could run to the toilet. It wasn't until maybe a month after my first one that I had my second nighttime bowel movement in this place. It was this one that I did in my pants.
One night after dinner, my stomach was feeling really full but my bowels simply would not move. I sat on the toilet for nearly half an hour that night, but still could not go. But once locked in my cell and getting ready for bed, my bowels began to call f6r relief. At first, it wasn't so bad and I was able to hold it in and fall asleep. But I awoke in the middle of the night (I'd say around 4:00 AM) and my bowels felt as though they were about ready to burst. Still half asleep, I was trying to ascertain whether I could hold it in until morning or if I should squat down and go in the pot, when suddenly, it became a moot point.
Suddenly, my panties were full of thick, soft, messy poop. I guess I had waited so long and my bowels had to move so bad, that they did so before I had a chance to get my nightie up or my panties down. Needless to say, I was very embarrassed and ashamed of myself.
It was impossible for me to clean up in the cell. The thin tissues they gave us to wipe with were barely enough to wipe with after a regular bowel movement, much less cleaning up after a messy one. And feeling
so much of the sticky kind of poop all over my backside, I could tell it was a clean-up better suited to the shower than toilet paper or even a washcloth. I just had to sit in my cell in the mess and wait for morning. First thing in the morning, I told the matron on my floor what had happened. I was hoping I'd be allowed to shower and change clothes immediately. Instead, she gave me a long indescribable look of disgust and then led me down the hall to "discipline wing. " She put me into one of the isolation cells (more commonly known as "the hole") and told me I had 24 hours in there to think about what I had done. Isolation was where they put you for punishment. It was a small locked room without windows. and you weren't allowed out at all. It had just a sleeping bag with no pillow to sleep on, and a pee pot without a lid in the corner.
At first, I was horrified at the thought of getting sent here now. Isolation wasn't so bad in itself as the punishment cells weren't that much worse than the regular cells, and one day in there wasn't so bad at all.
(For certain things, you could get fifteen straight days in there and that would drive me crazy). But not being allowed to clean up my accident first meant I'd have to stay in there all day with the mess in my pants. I just climbed into my sleeping bag and just burst into tears, horrified at the thought of having to lie there all day with a shitty mess in my panties and all over my behind. I also noticed that the matron didn't leave any toilet paper or tissues with the pee pot, so just in case I had any thoughts of trying to clean myself up in here, they were quickly put to rest. Obviously, she had intended I feel the full effect of going to the bathroom in my pants.
And feel the full effect I did. But a funny thing happened to me during the punishment. My feelings of disgust at the load in my panties quickly disappeared and eventually were replaced by lust. I spent practically my entire day in isolation, masturbating in my sleeping bag. My messy panties were really turning me on in a big way and the one big advantage of being in isolation was that it gave me more privacy to masturbate. You could do it in the regular cells (heaven knows I couldn’t go three-and-a-half months without it), but you’d always have people looking into your cell while you were doing it. But in isolation, masturbating was just pure uninterrupted bliss. Actually, the day in there went pretty quickly as I was doing myself practically the whole time.
Later in the day when I had to move my bowels again, I just let the load out in my panties and in a matter of seconds afterwards had a deep, mind-blowing orgasm. The next morning, I was allowed a shower and change of clothes. My only further punishment was having to clean out my loaded (and I do mean loaded, after two healthy bowel movements) panties in the toilet.
For my remaining two-and-a-half months at the reformatory, I was dying to mess in my panties again. I actually had dreams about messing myself, and most of the time when I masturbated, I did so to panty pooping fantasies. Especially at night, when I squatted over the pee pot to defecate on several occasions, how I longed just to let go in my pants and avoid "pee pot duty" the next day. That time when I had to clean 150 pee pots myself, oh how I wished I could have just let it out in my pants and avoided all this. But I knew I just couldn't do that. It wasn't that I feared being sent to solitary again, (in fact, I welcomed it for its privacy to masturbate), but it was considered a disciplinary action and the matron warned me that two disciplinary actions would automatically disqualify me for early release. She assured me that the first one wasn't so bad, especially for something relatively minor like this, but a second accident would delay my release. And I didn't want to spend one more day in that fucking hell-hole than I had to. So whenever nature called on me, I dutifully used the toilet (and occasionally, when necessary, a pee pot) like a good little girl. But I lusted to do more messes.
My first night out of that place, I went out to dinner with my parents. When we got home, I went straight to my room and let out such a magnificent bowel movement in my panties, that I had an orgasm right there on the spot. And masturbating in my bedroom in messy panties is even better than doing so in the isolation cell in jail. Subsequently there have been countless times I've gone in my pants and had countless orgasms from masturbating in messy panties. I feel like crying when I'm out somewhere and have to waste a bowel movement in the toilet.
That's the story of my fetish and how it started.
Wow this one is a classic.
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