I’ll see your vicodin shit and raise you a heroin shit.

It had to have been at least a week. My insides were so full of shit that farts were a thing of the past. I needed to eat food, but I couldn’t until I removed some of the shit. I went into the bathroom and tried every position and type of squat you could imagine. No go.

Here’s where my story gets NSFL.

I decided that if this shit wasn’t going to come out on it’s own that I was going to have to take it out. I went back into the bedroom for supplies. My wife gave me a quizzical look as I grabbed a large container of water-based lubrication and retreated to the bathroom.

I lubed up my fingers and asshole and began my preliminary investigation. I hit a wall immediately. This was not going to be good. Due to my earlier straining, my investigatory finger was surrounded by warm, blood-filled hemorrhoids. Like the turd, they would also have to go.

I think I should pause here to let the reader know that this is not the story of the time I manually removed a turd from my ass, as I have had to do that several times. This is the story of the largest turd I have removed from my ass. It’s going to get worse, you have been warned.

When I say I hit a wall, I mean that I hit a wall. It’s girth was tremendous and there was no getting around this turd. Normally, if you could just grasp both sides you could pull it out, but that wasn’t happening here. It was a giant mass, and nothing in my previous turd yanking experience had prepared me for this. As I began to realize that I would need a new strategy, my probings became too much and the hemorrhoids popped.

My right hand was now covered in blood from my finger to my wrist. I stood up and washed my hands for the first time. Another hit of dope might have made this easier, but I figured that as weird and unpleasant as this was, it would be worse if I nodded out in the midst of it. It was time to chip.

I had never encountered a turd this solid. I applied some more lube to my fingers and asshole, and pinched out the first bit of the turd. It was like shaping clay. I’m dropping the turdlets into the toilet beneath me. My hands are now covered in blood and lube, but the only shit on them is what’s beginning to get caked under my fingernails.

I had managed to chip off enough turdlets to fill the bowl with what a normal healthy person would consider a reasonable sized shit. I washed my hands a second time and lubed up for the third time. I flushed the toilet.

I could now push the turd a little bit. There was still very little room in my ass for the turd to move or for any gas. Every time I pushed the turd, I could hear this weird suction sound happening in my ass as the turd clung to my anal walls and gas pockets shifted around. I went back to chipping.

My wife knocked on the door, concerned. I told her not to come in, and then washed my hands again. The chipping was starting to have an effect both on the turd and on me. I could feel it move around inside me now, and I was also beginning to get a bit light headed from the hemmorhoidic blood loss. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be at this.

Then it happened. It shifted and took on a life of it’s own. I don’t know the science behind it — maybe the gasses now had room to build up behind it, but that turd shot out of me with an incredible force. The turd had knocked my prostate hard enough that a bit of cum formed on the head of my cock.

It was glorious: the largest turd I have ever made, with bits of rubble that once formed it’s crown, swimming in water tinged red with my blood. My hands were covered with blood and shit. I washed them dozens of times until the smell was a distant memory. I had been gone for a good half of an hour.

It was time to eat the sandwich my wife made for me.

TL;DR: Retrieved a turd manually.