The Reason the Titanic Sunk: A MUST READ STORY!

This story is rather long. I wrote it two years ago and have been waiting for a chance like this to share it. It is DEFINITELY worth the read!

The worst part about high school is the bathroom facilities. I hate them and because I live only five minutes from school, I usually decide to hold it in, but this day was different. Lunch passed and my stomach knew it needed a bathroom. I decided to hold it in and wait for school to end at 2:20, but the pain was intense, so I continued throughout the day letting a few farts slide out. As I’m sitting in Mrs. Hammer’s English class, I knew that if my next fart was not an S.B.D. (silent but deadly) I could always blame it on Brian McFarty. Brian was the kid who sat in front of me and sweated profusely because he just came from phys. ed.. Brian apparently thought he could win a gold medal if he played hard enough in gym. Unfortunately for me that meant I had to smell his awful body odor twice a week. I also figured if I couldn’t blame my farts on him because they were too loud, I could always go with the squeak of the desk by moving it a little bit.

The day progressed, my farts rolled along and finally the 2:20 bell rang. I ran home from school, the longest mile I had ever taken part in. I was squeezing my ass cheeks together doing the penguin walk, as I ran like a constipated cripple thinking his time had come to release. This was going to be a close call.

I arrived at home and struggled with the garage code, as my stomach somehow knew my ass was closer to a bathroom, even though I tried to confuse it by thinking I had more time than I actually did. Finally it opens. I burst through the garage door, barely make it up the winding staircase in my foyer, my pants are at my ankles by the time I get to the toilet and “wahhhhhhboooooooom!” This is the only word that can come to mind as my eyes tear with pain and joy. I have given birth to a brown baby boy, but this is no boy. This is a full fledged grown man. I look down in between my legs and realize this beast is not even half out. As it continues to rip through my ass I want it to stop. I do not want this monster to continue its forward progress. The pain is too great, but as I look down I realize this is now or never.

I finish doing the absolute nastiest thing I have ever taken part of in my life, as my ass is in pain like I have never felt before. I don’t even want to begin the wiping process. With little choice however, I begin. I look at the paper horrified and see it is soaked in blood.
“Dad?” with a painful and odd squeak in my voice.
“Yes, Benjamin. How was your day?” he asked me as usual. “Let me guess. You are calling from the shitter again? I swear, if cell phones were never invented you would be extremely bored on the toilet.”

“Well, you see I just finished rocking this monster deuce, anddd I went to wipe my ass and I’m bleeding. Do you think I have cancer? Am I going to need a colonoscopy?” I asked him.

“No you don’t have cancer you bonehead. It is probably hemorrhoids. Do you even know how a colonoscopy works? The doctors will take a tube and put it inside of you and look around. I’ll talk to you when I get home. Must you call me every time you take your afternooner?” He finishes.

“Dad have you ever had this done?” I asked him.

“Of course. Men are supposed to by a certain age.” He told me.

“Well then, how do you know they don’t stick anything else in there when you are sleeping?” That was my last comment until he hung up. Being only 16 I did not know what a colonoscopy was, but I knew this procedure would not be necessary.

The next day I ran home from school again and this time I was more shocked than ever. There is no way this ice berg was going to flush. As a child my brother and I gave names to the different variety of deuces, as we liked to call them, we have rocked. An ice-berg was known as a turd that points out of the water with the vast majority remaining under. This ice-berg once again led to my bleeding asshole, but this time I knew something had to be done. I ran downstairs and placed each piece of bloody toilet paper on the kitchen counter for my parents to see when they arrived home from work. I was upstairs doing homework in my room when my father screamed down, “Jonathan, get down hereeeee now!” I ran down and said, “Dad, can you believe my ass was bleeding that much?” His simple response was, “PROCTOLOGIST!”

Now, I did not know much about proctologists, but I knew this was not going to be fun. Tuesday came and my mother picked me up from school and to my surprise took me home. The pain had stopped in my stomach and my stools were no longer as large, and I believed I was cured of my self diagnosed illness. Confused why I was home, I asked my mother and she told me I needed to take an enema. This word was foreign to me, but I knew I did not like the sound of it. She explained to me I would have to take what looked like a squeezable ketchup bottle with a pointed tip. I had to fill the enema with water, get on my knees and elbows and push the water into my ass. NO WAY was I going through with this. I told my parents I was fine and that I was not sticking anything in my ass, to which my mother far too eagerly offered to give me the enema. I can only imagine this was my mother’s way of repaying me for all the pain and hard times children cause their parents.

I so-called “manned up,” went into the bathroom and tried to shit everything out instead of placing this dreadful object into my asshole. The enema itself was no larger than my hand, but its presence drew the power of a fully loaded gun in a single man game of Russian roulette. I weighed myself and the scale read 150 LBS. I then placed a towel on the cold tile floor, took my clothing off and put my knees down first, then my left elbow and positioned the enema into my outhole, as I called it. I squeezed the bottle and once again, wahbooooooom! I ran to the toilet and my ass was pissing shit like the Super Soaker 5,000. Pouring out of me, I felt violated and after a few minutes I weighed myself again to see that I had now proudly lost five pounds. What a diet I thought! I showered because of the grotesque feeling which encompassed me and my mother and I then drove to the doctor’s office.

Sitting in a proctologist office is an awkward feeling because everyone there knows that something is wrong with your asshole and that the same doctor’s hand will go from asshole to asshole, so to speak. This nerve wrecking feeling consumed my body as I waited patiently for the receptionist to finally call Benjamin Wolf to the dreadful examination room. I walked in and the beautiful nurse asked me to undress. Why does she have to be beautiful? As if going to the doctors for a bleeding asshole is not already bad enough. I tell her no! She cares little and said to me, “do you think you are the first person to tell me this? Take off your clothes or there is no point of you coming in the first place.” Her rationality strikes me and so I agree to get down to my underwear and then take it off once under the bed sheet on the examination bed. As I sit and wait for the doctor to walk in I cannot take my mind off the gorgeous brunette with the incredibly curvy body and busty chest. UH OH! It’s getting bigger. Oh shit, I sit and panic and think what is this doctor going to think? I am sitting with a full fledged hard on and I am here to have my ass examined. This must happen all the time I hope, but I know it doesn’t. As luck would have it, the doctor walks in and tells me he knows my Uncle Arnold and my recently deceased grandfather. He asks me how I am and makes small talk, as I sit and pray this day will end. I have now gone from fantasies about the gorgeous nurse to thoughts of the doctor telling my Uncle Arnold about my bleeding ass and erect man piece. Once again I think, as if this day was not already embarrassing enough.

All of a sudden out of nowhere my mom here’s a scream in the waiting room. She knows it is me. Her embarrassing, over-exaggerating son, with any chance to take as much attention as he can get when the opportunity arises. This was different, however. When I least expected it, the proctologist in the midst of conversation asked if I had taken my enema. He explained if I hadn’t that my bowels would push out as he entered. This scream was due to his “entering.” He had lubed up I suppose when I wasn’t paying attention, and slid his arm right in. Not just a finger or two, but his arm! He began to squeeze and push things inside that I did not even know the proper name for. He clearly enjoyed his work far too much because he did not want to just feel around, but he wanted a fist full of asshole. All I knew was that were two glands and I did not want either to be touched. The prostate which would turn me on and the other which would make me feel like I had to diarrhea right then and there. He explained if I had not taken my enema I would have shat on him as he pushed down on that “other” gland.

The proctologist left the room and returned shortly after, as I once again felt more violated as each event took place that sad, sad day. He explained to me what had happened. I must admit his results had never left me feeling more proud of myself in my life than I had that day. He told me that after school that glorious and painful day, I had taken such a larger bowel movement that my asshole could not fit it out and it was forced to expand resulting in me tearing my O-ring. This caused my asshole to increase and for the largest bowel in the world to come out, which resulted in my bleeding. I was also informed that as long as I drank plenty of liquids my bowels would release much easier and I should not have pain or bleeding anymore.

I left his office that day feeling desecrated and proud. The beauty of having a brother is that however gross he is, you always have the chance to match his grossness. To this day any deuce he rocks will never be comparable to the beast which I refer to as the reason the Titanic sunk. For this iceberg had caused more pain to me than I had known to be humanly possible.