The depths of your stomach issue a many-layered, complicated noise and it feels in your gut like a brick wall collapsed a little. There's a sudden rush of heat behind your asshole. You clench your buttcheeks together with everything you have, sphincter nestled between, squeezing away. A gurgle in your lower intestine as a gas bubble pushes around a lump of shit and you have to double over for a moment to keep it all together. Your jaw is clenched as well, and your back teeth are grinding hard.
But your body is at cross purposes to itself. For all the muscular control you exert on your buttocks and ringpiece you cannot halt the inexorable peristalsis of your digestive system with technology currently at hand.
But you aren't a weak and pathetic quitter like so many others. You keep on holding it in. You hold it in for a while, once you get the hang of pulling your entire consciousness down into the Poop Chakra until eventually the trembling muscles simply give out from exhaustion and go suddenly, obscenely slack. And that, dear reader, is when you really shit the hell out of your pants.
It's not like the other times. All that Cult Spread you ate, all the hours of holding it in... you barely have time to get your jeans pulled down past your butt before the torrent begins. Unfortunately, your tight white briefs didn't go down with them and you unload, over the course of two full minutes, a seemingly endless stream of technicolored hot spew.
A crowd has gathered, and the park bench is ruined.