Many years ago, maybe 1959 or 60, I overheard my girlfriend's mother telling her to get "cleared out" before going away on a teens' weekend. I didn't know what she meant but decided not to ask in case it was one of those feminine secret activities that 17-year old boys aren't supposed to know about.
GF was out of the room for about 10 minutes and came back for or usual chat, TV and fumble-kissing session. Suddenly, after about 30 minutes, she stiffened up and began to get up from the sofa. "What's the matter," I asked, and held her back to be near me. I wondered if I'd done something wrong.
"No, let me go," she wailed, and continued her movement off the sofa and towards the door.
Then, equally suddenly,she collapsed onto all-fours; with her legs stretch out and butt in the air. And I could hear a gurgling and squishing from under her skirt. Se put her head down on the carpet and revealed her thighs held in her long leg panty-girdle.
And also a spreading mass of dung squeezing out from her intestines. She couldn't move and just stayed in that position, with her body convulsed by wave after wave of pressure as she emptied herself. And filled her pants.
Obviously the room began to fill with the aroma of dung and I was both intrigued and shocked at what was happening in front of me. I got up at last and went to the door, and called her mother. But there was no reply and I realised that we were alone in the house.
The emptying stopped and she began to get up from the floor. We both realised that the tough panty-girdle would hold everything in place but, even so, she walked slowly with me holding her, into the bathroom.
What shall I tell you about the next hour or so? Undressing her, catching all the dung we could, putting soiled clothes into a bucket from under the basic cupboard, running the bath for her, my washing her as she slumped in the bath covering her eyes to hide her embarrassment. It was delightful and never to be forgotten. Nothing we did after that compared even slightly with the intimacy and the naughtiness; and we split later.
Then I knew what her mother's advice had meant. I learned that she had put four bisacodyl suppositories into her daughter, when one is the recommended dose. No wonder we had the explosion - and a memory for a lifetime.