Jess forces herself to finish her burrito before she puts on her shoes to head out. She hasn’t pooped in two days, and her gut is churning, not wanting to accept what she’s adding to it without making some space first.
She can’t hold in a loud wet fart as she bends to tie her shoes. It eases the pressure a little, but she still needs to poop badly. She rubs her stomach once, enjoying the gurgling, and then walks outside
It’s a short walk to the park, but she can’t keep from farting several times on the way, staining her panties a little. She really has to go.
It’s a sunny saturday, so the park is full of people. Just what she was hoping for. There’s such a thrill to doing this with people all around her, none of them knowing the predicament she’s in
She has to stop and squeeze her legs together against a bigger cramp, and she feels some mess slide out into her panties. She’s wearing black leggings under a flippy skirt so no one will be able to see, but it’s probably enough to create a bulge and she loves that.
She regains control and keeps walking, enjoying the feeling of having messed herself in front of all these people and still needing to badly go.
After a few minutes, she comes out into an area with lots of picnickers. She approaches one woman and asks if she knows where the restroom is, hand on her stomach.
The woman points down a trail. “It’s about half a mile that way.”
“Oh god,” Jess says, pushing just a little. A loud explosion of gas and shit bursts out of her, easily heard by the woman. “I—ung—don’t think I’m going to make it.”
The woman and her family looks at her with pity and disgust as Jess holds her stomach and poops herself. She stops before she’s completely finished and waddles away towards the restrooms
There’s a line when she gets there, as she expected on a Saturday, and she makes a show of holding her stomach. There’s quite a smell from her accident, made worse as another fart bubbles out of her. The other women are trying to be polite, but she sees them frown at the smell
Another woman comes and queues behind her, legs pressed together like she’s desperate herself. They move forward and Jess lets out another fart, loud and unmistakably wet. She groans and clutches her stomach.
“I’m not going to make it,” she says, and then pushes, squatting slightly as she noisily finishes filling her pants. She starts pissing herself too, a loud patter of liquid on the tile floor, and the woman behind her squirms and sticks her hands between her legs where a sudden dark spot has appeared.
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