The Forearm

m 1+ points - Newb

This story takes place about seven years ago. I was working as a supervisor in a metal manufacturing plant in in the small blue collar community where I grew up. The factory was a typical small town plant run by sixty rugged employees who thoroughly enjoyed sharing anything and everything that they fired out of their asses.

One fine morning around nine a.m. I was sitting in my office and realized I had left something in my Men’s room locker. The factory was a large place and the restrooms were basically full locker rooms. The Men’s room had eight or so stalls, eight urinals, and at least 100 lockers for employees. I walked through the factory to the locker room and opened the door and was less than one step in when I was greeted with the most putrid, foul, offensive shit odor I have ever encountered in my life. It was so bad that if I didn’t need the item in my locker I would have turned around and left immediately.

I speed-walked to my locker, and as I opened the combination lock in record time I thought I must have been the only person in the room. Like I said, the locker room was big and any tiny sound would echo. When I opened my locker I heard a stall door open, someone taking a few steps and the sound of running water in the sink. I found myself in an awkward position: Do I turn to see the poor son of a bitch who created the most evil stench ever, or do I turn immediately toward the door and get out? Since I know I would be embarrassed if someone found out that my ass was capable of such treachery, I chose to get out of there without looking at the culprit. However, fate decided otherwise for me.

As it turns out I couldn’t help but see who it was out of the corner of my eye. There was this guy working in the inspection department who easily weighed in at 400 pounds, and there was no way I could miss seeing him, even though I tried. The smell seemed to only get worse while I exited, but I continued about my busy day anyway, totally forgetting about the unpleasant experience. In a few hours it had disappeared from my mind completely.

Later I had to go to the conference room for a meeting. On my way there I walked by the locker room again and I noticed an employee -- who we’ll call “Vance” -- sitting at a table sorting parts next to the locker room door, laughing to himself. He looked up at me and just shook his head while continuing to laugh. Naturally I asked him what was so funny. He just laughed even harder and shook his head more.

Now there was no way I was walking away without finding out what he was laughing at, so I prodded him until he was able to momentarily regain composure. Even then, he was still so worked up that he could only manage to tell me to go in the locker room and look in the fourth stall. Then he started laughing uncontrollably again. The smile on my face disappeared because I couldn’t help but wonder what I would see if I went in there, and this fact made Vance laugh even harder. At this point I still hadn't made the connection between his laughing and the 400-pound human stench machine I witnessed earlier; I was so busy all day I forgot about it. I asked Vance what the hell was in the fourth stall, but he was laughing so hard that all he could do was hold out his left arm, make a fist with it and take his right hand, wrap his thumb and forefinger around his elbow and, with watering eyes, say, “It’s this big.” Was he really indicating that there was a turd in that locker room that was as big as a grown man’s forearm?

“I gotta see this," I replied, which made Vance just about fall off his stool in a fit of hysterics.

I walked into the locker room and slowly made my way to the fourth stall. I was careful to listen for anyone else who may have been in there, and checked under the stall doors, since I really didn’t want anyone to find me lurking around looking in the toilets. That would just be weird wouldn’t it?

I came to the fourth stall to find the door was slightly open. By now the foul odor had subsided for the most part, but a ghost of it still lingered. I pushed the door open with my foot and looked in the bowl.

There it was.

I was shocked. Vance did not exaggerate at all. In fact, he may not have done this magnificent turd justice. This thing was literally just as big -- if not bigger -- than a grown man’s forearm, including the fist. And not just in length. This sucker was also just as wide and thick. Two key things I noticed were that the turd was all in one solid piece and there was no blood in the toilet. I found myself unable to stop staring at this mother load and had to force myself to leave the room. I walked out and looked at Vance, who had a big smile on his face, and I said, “Well, whoever did that I hope is OK." He doubled over in laughter and I went to my meeting.

After the meeting was over I was walking back through the factory to my office and noticed that the janitor who was walking to the locker room with a large stick had a large smile on his face. I felt so bad for that man.

The story of the mysterious giant turd spread through the plant and became the hot topic of the day. I’m sure every single employee there got to see it but nobody knew who produced it, and every employee was doing his best detective work to try and figure it out. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon when it dawned on me that I knew who the big shitter was: It had to have been the 400-pound monstrosity I saw washing his hands. I decided not to reveal his identity and think it’s hilarious that to this day he thinks he got away with it. The big shit is still talked about in certain circles, and I don’t know if I will ever reveal his identity. But if I do I’m sure Vance will be the first to know.

Image Preview: 

3 Comments on "The Forearm"

Anonymous's picture

You kept proper toilet etiquette and did the honorable thing by keeping silent.

runninggrrl2's picture
Comment Quality Moderatork 500+ points

Well, you don't get to be 400 lbs without eating a LOT of food. And eating a LOT of food creates gigantic turds, right? Makes sense to me. Then again, I weigh something like 103 lbs and I've created some pretty impressive arm-sized turds myself, so maybe he just ate a lot of fiber or something.

An apple a day keeps the ExLax away!

Poop John the First's picture
l 100+ points

The moral of the story for me was this: Big shits keep getting away with it! Some things never change.

Spreading the turd one poop at a time.

Post new comment

  • Allowed HTML tags: s:62:"<em> <strong> <cite> <code> <ul> <ol> <li> <dl> <dt> <dd> <br>";
  • Lines and paragraphs break automatically.

More information about formatting options

This question is for testing whether you are a human visitor and to prevent automated spam submissions.
Enter the characters shown in the image.
To prevent automated spam submissions leave this field empty.