Steve hadn't meant to be holding it as long as he had. He'd felt a vague need to shit as soon as he and Eddie got to the fair, but didn't want to go so soon. He followed Eddie so they could make a start on the rides.
After a few rides, the need to go was a little stronger, and he was about to mention making a stop to use the bathroom, but Eddie beat him to it.
"Jesus, I have to piss like a racehorse. D'you mind if we stop?" Eddie asked
"It's fine. I was gonna ask anyway." Steve replied, feeling a little more at ease as he and Eddie made their way to the line of portapotties.
There was a line, nothing too crazy, but it looked like it would only get longer as the evening went on. After a few minutes, he and Eddie were at the front of the line. Eddie shot into the first one to open up, and Steve felt a sense of relief when he saw another one unlock.
He shot in and locked the door, and was about to pull his pants down when he noticed that there was no toilet paper. He didn't want to spend the rest of the day with skid marks in his underwear, but also didn't want to either get out and try to get into a different one, or have to get back in line. So he decided to just pee, and wait until either he or Eddie needed to go again. He was a little uncomfortable as he met Eddie, but it wasn't anything unmanageable.
They spent several hours going on rides, and playing the games. Steve's need to shit was starting to get urgent. He suggested heading back to the portapotties, and was thankful that Eddie agreed. As he predicted, the line was much longer. They joined the back and Steve silently prayed that he'd either get a different one to earlier, or that the toilet paper had been refilled.
He was next in line when he overheard a group of girls that had just exited. "I can't believe that none of these things have any toilet paper."
"I know, right. I asked that guy over there and he said that they never had much. All of them were out after like two hours."
Steve's heart sunk as he heard that. He really had to go, but there was no way he was willingly going to shit without being able to wipe his ass after. He went into the next one, and just peed. Emptying his bladder just made his need to shit even worse.
"You okay, Stevie?" Eddie asked as he rejoined him.
"I-." Steve hesitated for a second. He didn't want to admit that his problem was having not shit for a while. "I don't feel so good. Do you think we could head home soon?"
"Sure. Just one more ride?" Eddie replied.
"Okay." Steve agreed, hoping it wouldn't be too long. He was planning on pulling over at the first stop they could find once they'd left.
He felt more nervous when they reached the ride that Eddie had chosen, especially once he saw the length of the line. It would be cutting it fine whether he would make it.
"You're not coming?" Eddie asked as he noticed Steve hanging back as they reached the end of the line.
"Uh. I'm going to wait this one out. I don't think it's a great idea where I'm not feeling great." Steve replied.
"Oh, yeah. I guess that's a good idea. I'll come find you after."
"Yeah, I'll just be over there." Steve waved in the direction of a small seating area between stalls.
Steve walked in the general direction but he didn't want to risk sitting down with the way his stomach was feeling, instead he chose to stand against one of the nearby stalls, making sure he could still see the ride Eddie was in line for.
He waited for a few minutes, and the urge to go was reaching emergency levels. It was so bad he wasn't sure if he would make it back to the portapotties, let alone into the car and to a different bathroom.
He watched carefully to see where Eddie was in the line, all while he was squirming on the spot with his legs crossed in attempt to hold it back.
As he saw Eddie reach the front of the line and start to get on, his body finally gave in. His stomach cramped violently, and he couldn't hold it back any longer. A long log of shit forced it's way out, coiling in Steve's pants. As the first log broke off, he had to squat slightly. The second wave hit worse, with much softer, mushy shit filling his pants. He couldn't help the tears starting to run down his face as he finished emptying himself into his pants. He knew he was going to have to, somehow, explain it to Eddie.
He stood up as straight as possible, keeping his back to the wall of the stall he was by so no one would see what he'd done. He did his best to look normal when he could see Eddie coming.
"Stevie, what's wrong?" Eddie asked, looking concerned.
Steve just shook his head, unable to find the words.
"If you felt so bad it's making you cry, you could have said something. We could have just left, I didn't have to go on that last ride. Come on, let's get you home." Eddie reached for Steve's hand, but Steve flinched away.
"I. I've had to shit so bad, since we got here. But I didn't want to go here because there's no toilet paper." Steve said quietly.
"Oh, baby. That must hurt so bad. We could head back over there, and while you wait in line I could grab a bunch of napkins from the food stalls so you can wipe?" Eddie offered, and Steve felt awful that he hadn't thought of that and maybe asked Eddie to get some napkins while he waited the last time they went to use the bathroom. But he'd been too stubborn to admit what he needed.
"The thing is, I sort of already went." Steve admitted, blushing deeply.
"You mean you- In your-" Eddie asked, looking Steve over.
"Can we just go?" Steve asked, shifting uncomfortably because of the weight of the mess, and knowing it would be making his pants sag.
"Yeah, let's go. I'll walk behind you so no one else can see." Eddie replied, his eyes immediately going to Steve's ass as he stepped behind him.
"I can feel you looking. How bad is it?" Steve asked after a few seconds.
"It's bad. It's so obvious, and there's even a bit of a stain from it." Eddie replied quietly.
Steve didn't respond to that, knowing it was going to get much worse, as he would have to sit in it for the drive home. He just hoped that there would be something in the car he could use to protect the seats.
this has been half finished in my drafts for months. as in since august. finally got it finished and out!
i miss writing! i have been working on some stuff, but chronic illness flare ups have kept me from writing as much as i would like.
BUT i do have some stuff half/ mostly finished and there will be something up this weekend! it is very nearly finished and will be up tomorrow or sunday
Steve being one of those people that is massively overindulgent over the Christmas period. He will eat practically anything, enjoying the best food of the season.
But this leaves him feeling so stuffed that he can hardly move off the sofa. But all that food has to go somewhere.
When he feels the first cramps, he tries to hold it off. Wanting to stay sitting in comfort. But eventually the need gets too much. He braces his feet on the floor and lifts himself a little off the sofa, using his hands to support himself. And he just relaxes, letting all the shit come flowing out into his underwear. The logs are so big that his pants are tenting and sagging pretty much immediately, one log breaking off for another, softer one to start coming out. His pants building further and further out as he added more shit to the pile growing in his underwear.
By the time he was finished, it was mostly mush, and he knew it would be one hell of a clean up. But he was too tired to clean it up now. He sat back down, feeling the mess squish and spread. Some moved up the front, covering his dick and balls, more coming out of the legs and waistband of his underwear. The warmth was so comforting that he decided to take a nap. Maybe then, he would be awake enough to clean up.
Or maybe, he'd be ready to eat more, to add to the mess covering his lower half.
Steve and Eddie were getting drunk and smoking weed at the edge of the trailer park, not too far from Eddie's trailer. The mix of alcohol and weed made Steve not realize that he was desperate to pee until he was squirming with his need to go.
"I have to piss so bad. I don't think I'll make it back to the trailer." Steve said, reaching down to grab himself.
"Just go here. I've done it before." Eddie replied, taking another puff from the joint.
Steve's mind was running too slow for him to realize that Eddie meant for him to pull his cock out and pee into the dirt below the bench they were sat on. Instead, he just relaxed and let the warm wetness flood his pants, pooling slightly beneath him before dripping through the gaps in the bench. He let out a sigh of relief as the pressure eased in his bladder, not caring that his pants were soaked.
Eddie looked over at the sigh of relief, having not heard Steve's zipper. He just watched as the dark stain spread across Steve's light-wash jeans. "Dude, you're pissing yourself?"
Steve looked down at his pants, then up at Eddie, confused. "You told me to go here?"
"I meant whip it out so you could piss on the floor, not for you to go in your pants."
"Oh," Steve said in understanding, before rubbing his hand over his piss-soaked crotch, his cock now straining against his wet jeans. "It feels so good, though."
(per @omowritingprompts omovember list for this year)
Stranger Things- Pre-Steddie,just a short one
.
Eddie is Pretty Sure that Steve Harrington is desperate to pee.
Look, does Eddie sometimes spend a little Too much time watching Harrington? Specifically Harrington's body?
Okay yeah maybe.
But if King Steve didn't want to be looked at, he maybe shouldn't spend so much of his life running around in tiny swishy athletic shorts.
Anyway, Eddie's not gonna, like, harass the guy or anything, not least because that would get Him beat up, if not worse.
He just, you know... he notices.
He notices Steve enough to know that there is something off about the way Steve's moving right now.
To be honest, Steve Harrington is the only reason Eddie's still in band- he'd much rather keep his free time for his baby... maybe he'd even do more homework, if he wasn't in band...
Probably not, but maybe!
Anyway, Eddie's man enough to admit to himself that the only reason he's still going to all the effort of band this semester is that it gets him a lovely court-side view of Steve Harrington and an excuse to watch every game the guy plays... without having to explain himself. To anyone.
So when they're not playing, Eddie has no reason not to engage in his third favorite past time- watching Steve('s ass).
Only, tonight, said ass is... well...
Steve's being a little weird.
See, Hawkins is short, tonight. Hawkins never does very well, despite how much of every game Steve carries, but on this particular night, not only are they short on players full-stop, but one of the players has been benched for an ankle injury, and another has been benched for cussing out the ref...
And so Hawkins has exactly as many players as they need not to forfeit.
Which means, no substitutions.
Eddie didn't watch Steve for all of the middle break, he was actually doing his job or whatever and playing the stupid fight songs and stuff...
But he did clock that Steve never went back into the locker room, he doesn't think.
Part of the time, Steve was talking to the sullen shithead who got ejected, doing his team captain duties, Eddie guessed, but Part of the time Steve was certainly almost definitely flirting with one of the cheerleaders.
So when the whistle blew and everyone filed back onto the court, Steve was already there, looking thrown by the sudden return of the rest of his teammates.
Eddie did clock the nervous look Steve shot the lockeroom doors .
Eddie also clocked the Three Separate times Steve jogged over to the coach during timeouts, and the increasingly stressed look on his face every time the coach shot him down.
And now, Eddie couldn't help but notice an extra spring, and extra bounce, in his lordship's stance. He was presumably standing wherever he was strategically supposed to, but he was definitely bobbing in place, bouncing on his toes...
on another person, Eddie might choc it up to nerves, or excitement. just someone anxious to get back into the game.
but Eddie's pretty sure he knows what Steve's "Normal" amped-up bouncing looks like, and it's not this.
Eddie is pretty sure in fact...
There's a play, or whatever, and Steve's got the ball suddenly, and he's moving quickly, and other players are rushing him, and he stops to throw the ball, and there are a bunch of guys all around him... and an opposing player basically smacks him in the gut.
Steve drops the ball, drops to his knees, and a whistle blows, and the guy that hit Steve is arguing, hands in the air, but Eddie is still watching Steve who...
Steve is sort of clutching his stomach... but he's, like, doing it with his arms, not his hands. His hands are lower, pressing against his upper thigh.
Eddie watches intently as another player comes over to help Steve up, watches Steve hesitate, watches...
Steve straight up grabs himself, before he lets himself be pulled up.
Oh yeah. Eddie's absolutely correct.
Steve Harrington definitely has to piss like a motherfucker.
just a half-formed thought bc i love uncle wayne. cw: wetting.
Steve drops Max off at her trailer and he's desperate for a piss, like starting to leak into his boxers desperate, and Eddie gave him a spare key to his trailer for emergencies and this really is an emergency.
So Steve pulls his car across to Eddie's, and fumbles for the trailer key one-handed with the other one firmly gripping his dick to try to stop any more leaks.
He gets the door unlocked and takes a moment to double over and hold himself with both hands when the sound of gruff throat-clearing makes him look up in shock.
Eddie's Uncle Wayne is sat in his recliner, raising his eyebrow at him and Steve just whimpers as he loses control and wets his pants right there.
"I'm so sorry, Mr Munson," Steve looks across at him with wide eyes as he feels himself tearing up, "I - uh - oh god-"
"Ah shit, son, I didn't mean t'scare ya. Go on an' hop in the shower, it's okay."
Steve looks down at the puddle at his feet and sniffs, "B-but I gotta clean this up."
"No, son," Wayne gets up and walks over to put a hand on Steve's shoulder, "It's my fault for makin' ya jump, I'll sort this, you gotta do nothin' but get yaself cleaned on up."
Steve pissing himself as a way to get out of trouble any time he got pulled over for speeding.
Sometimes he would get away with just squirming in his seat, and "I'm sorry officer, I just have to go to the bathroom so bad. I, I don't think I can make it home."
Other times it would take some crocodile tears, a gasp of "Oh, shit," and looking down as a small wet spot appeared at the crotch of his jeans. A hand shoved between his legs and a beg of "Please, I think I'm going to have an accident."
And sometimes he had to take it further. Loud, slightly exaggerated sobs as he completely flooded his pants, his stream hissing as it broke through and a soft patter as drops overflowed the edge of his car seat and ran onto the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just, I couldn't hold it anymore. I was trying to get home before it happened."
And honestly, it was worth the wet pants, having to clean his car, and having most of Hawkins PD thinking that he had a bladder control problem to get out of paying speeding tickets.
Steve getting really into running, liking to go out early in the morning or late in the evening. A time of day when it's pretty quiet and peaceful. When it's not completely dark out, but it's not fully light either. He'd run for 5, 10, 15 miles at a time, finding it refreshing for his mind and body.
One day, he'd overdone it with the water, drinking too much before heading out, and then making his way through most of his water bottle in the first half of his run. All the water hit his bladder, and hard, on his way back home. It was getting late, so he didn't want to disturb anyone by asking to use their bathroom. And after everything with the Upside Down, he didn't feel safe going into the woods to whip it out to pee, especially in the half-light of the evening.
He decided to push through, knowing he was only two or three miles from home. It wouldn't take too long, then he would be able to use the bathroom at his house.
He overestimated his ability to hold it. A little under a mile left, he lost control. Pee quickly soaking the old green gym shorts he was wearing, running down his legs and staining his white socks slightly yellow, and then splashing onto the ground beneath him as he ran. He didn't stop running once he'd started going, not wanting anyone else to see him peeing his pants, leaving a trail of pee behind him.
One day Steve is just like, “I wonder what it would be like to poop with my underwear on?”
So one day he does, he’s home alone watching tv when he feels the need to shit, it’s not super urgent but he walks to the bathroom and takes all his clothes off but his underwear and steps into the bathtub.
He gets onto his knees and rests his ass on his feet. He’s already hard, honestly he didn’t even know he’d be into this, he was just curious, yet he looks down at himself and his dick is straining against his white undies and there’s a little spot of precum surrounding the tip of his cock.
He grabs at himself a bit, and more pre leaks out. Suddenly, his stomach growls and he can feel the tip of the shit almost peak out.
He knew what he was about to do was gross and wrong, and the guilt and nerves churned heavily in his stomach, pushing the shit further out and suddenly he just decided to do it.
He started with a light push, and felt the shit poke out of his asshole, but to get it out he would have to push a lot harder, so he did. He bore down hard, and immediately the turd slid halfway out, he was definitely touching cloth now.
He stopped pushing and the shit stayed half out of him, too far out to be sucked back in. He reaches back and with one finger lightly strokes over the bulge the shit has created. It’s warm and textured, and he gently opens his hand and pushes the shit, he can feel the warmth and squishy-ness of it, and his dick spits precum.
He keeps his hand cupping his ass, and continues to push, he feels the bulge grow and his undies get tighter. He keeps pushing, and hears the shit crackle out of him.
Finally he stops shitting with a loud fart, which he feels vibrate against his hand and his shit.
He tries to stand, but his legs shake and buckle and suddenly he falls back, it feels like he falls in slow motion, and there’s nothing he can do to stop… he lands on his ass, squishing the shit, it spreads in his underwear and comes out the leg holes and even the back of them, there’s shit touching his lower back. There’s even shit against his balls.
do you have any recommendations for scat and/or omo blogs to follow?
@charlieomo @spozzbob @asteddiemess @jaskiers-lutkulele-of-sex are my favorites. Theyre all fantastic writers and are just cool in general and you should follow them and read their stuff!
Steve crawling into eddies lap while he goes potty. Like just cuddling into him and hiding his face in his chest while eddies on the couch. Ed rubs his back, completely unaware of whats happening until he hears a little grunt.
imagine Eddie giving Steve a blowjob and is just reaching round to finger him when Steve grabs his wrist and stops him.
Eddie pulls off and asks if everything's okay and Steve's like yeah but I kinda need a dump and I don't want to get any on your fingers.
and Eddie's gets his mouth back on Steve and thinks like holy fuck that's hot. actually that's really hot.
like Steve's right, he doesn't want to get it on him but just that fact that Steve needs a shit while he's blowing him is really doing it for Eddie.
he's thinking about Steve squirming and telling him to hurry because he can't hold it anymore and suddenly Eddie's coming in his pants like a teenager.
Steve comes down his throat moments later and offers to get Eddie now and Eddie has to tell him he's all good.
Eddie thinking about what it would be like for Steve to be so desperate to shit while Eddie is blowing him that he just shits where ever they are, in bed, in the kitchen, on the couch, in the car. And that image just gives Eddie weeks of jerk off material.
Steve starting to get awful migraines as a result of all the concussions. But, instead of suffering from nausea and vomiting with the migraines, he gets the worst upset stomach and is constantly having to run to the bathroom to shit.
But sometimes the migraines leave him so dizzy he can barely move. Standing up and stumbling to the bathroom saps all his energy and he can barely stay upright to make the few steps to his ensuite and back. He tried laying on the bathroom floor, but it was too hard to be comfortable and somehow made the migraine even worse.
One day he woke up with one of those migraines, and the dizziness was even worse than normal. He couldn't sit up for more than a few seconds, let alone stand. But his stomach had kicked in, and he was desperate to go. He was torn, he really didn't want to have an accident, but even if he got up he'd probably fall and lose control before he even got to the bathroom. And it would be loose and wet and some would probably leak out of his pants so he'd have to clean the floor as well as himself.
His body decided for him. One last, harsh cramp and he couldn't hold it back. A rush of extremely soft, wet mush flooded the back of his pants. Steve winced a little at the way it felt against his skin, and at the smell. But his stomach was already feeling a little better, and he already had one hell of a mess to clean up, so he just bore down and pushed out the next wave of shit. As he did, his bladder released as well, soaking him in pee.
He shifted uncomfortably once he was done, he couldn't believe he'd had an accident in bed. He wanted to get cleaned up as quickly as possible, but the dizziness and migraine were still very much present. He knew that even if he was able to move enough to clean everything up, it wouldn't be long before he had to go again. So, he decided to stay in bed and wait it out, and any time he needed to shit again, he'd just let go, adding to the mess in his pants. He was just thankful that his mom was the sort of person who insisted on having mattress protectors on all beds in the house
He did end up shitting multiple times throughout the day, none as bad as the first time, but it was pretty unpleasant. Sometimes it was almost solid logs of shit that forced into his pants, others incredibly watery diarrhea. He was dreading the clean up, but he had to admit, it had made the migraine easier than normal as he wasn't making himself dizzier every time he had to get up to rush to the bathroom.
Late in the afternoon, he was just starting to feel better enough to get up and attempt the clean up. He was about to get out of bed when he heard the front door open and close, and Eddie calling out his name. He froze where he sat, not wanting Eddie to see him like this.
"Steve, are you okay?" Eddie called, tapping lightly on Steve's door before opening it. He instantly brought his hand up to cover his nose. "Oh, god. What's that smell?"
And Steve burst into tears. He was feeling bad enough about not being able to get up to use the bathroom and spending the day covered in his own shit, but to have Eddie come in before he'd had a chance to clean up and air out his room. It was all he needed to push him over the edge.
"Oh, baby. It's okay, don't cry." Eddie tried to reassure him. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I couldn't get up. And I couldn't hold it." Steve admitted, his face burning and tears streaming down his face.
"You had an accident in bed?"
Steve nodded, feeling humiliated. "Not just one."
"You had more than one accident? When did it start?"
"When I woke up. And any time I had to go, I couldn't. So it kept happening."
"Oh, Stevie. We need to get you cleaned up. You've been lying in it for hours, it's got to be making you sore. Come on, let's get you in the bath. I'll deal with your bed."
"You don't-"
"I want to." Eddie moved to help him up.
"Wait." Steve burst out. "The carpet. It's so wet, it's going to drip."
Eddie left the room for a few moments, returning with some trash bags which he created a path to the bathroom with. "Come on, baby. Let's make you feel all better."
Steve let Eddie help him up and guide him into the bathroom. Steve winced with every step as he felt his shit running down his legs and dripping onto the trash bags. In the bathroom, Eddie helped him out of his soiled clothing, shoving it instantly into another trash bag. He gently cleaned Steve up with a washcloth, removing every trace of poop. Steve's skin was very red in places on his ass and legs from where he'd been lying in it for so long. Once he was cleaned up, Eddie set the bath running, so Steve would be able to relax and feel better. After Steve was in the bath, Eddie went back to deal with the bed.
Steve had almost dozed off in the warm water by the time Eddie returned.
"How're you feeling, baby?" He asked softly.
"Better. How bad was it?" Steve asked hesitantly, glancing at the door.
"I had to trash pretty much all the bedding, we weren't going to get any of it clean. The sheets, your comforter, even that weird protector thing your mom wants on the bed. But nothing got on the mattress."
"Okay. I'm not attached to any of it."
"I've got the windows open to clear the smell, but I don't think we can sleep in there tonight."
"Guest room, then."
"Yeah. And I was thinking, don't hate me for this or anything. But maybe we should look at getting some puppy pads or diapers in case this happens again. So if you can't get up, you don't have to worry about the mess." Eddie suggested.
"I. I don't know. Maybe." Steve knew it was a good idea, but he hated the reminder of what had happened. At least he had Eddie to help make him feel better.
Honestly, this came from the way I have to shit constantly when I have a migraine. I just wish I could get away with not getting up to stumble to the bathroom.
It was a few weeks after that awful migraine. Steve had fully replaced his bedding, including a new and better mattress protector. He had taken Eddie's suggestion to get both puppy pads and diapers. Just in case it got that bad again. He hoped he wouldn't have to use them, but knew it was likely.
One morning after Eddie had spent the night, Steve woke up with the same sort of migraine. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but the dizziness overwhelmed him and he dropped back against the pillows. He reached out to the side, hitting out to get Eddie's attention.
"Huh, wha-." Eddie mumbled as he woke up.
"Eds?" Steve murmured, unable to raise his voice any more.
"Stevie? Are you okay?" Eddie asked, instantly more awake.
"Nuh-uh." Steve replied, then hissed as he felt his stomach cramp.
"What is it?" Eddie's voice was full of concern. "Is it a migraine?"
Steve nodded. "I can't move. Can you-"
"What do you need, baby?"
"Diaper." Steve whispered, mortified at needing to make the request.
"Sure." Eddie got up and Steve could hear him moving around.
"Hurry." Steve whimpered as his stomach cramped again.
"Got it." Eddie replied. He came back over with a diaper in his hand. "Do you want to-"
"You." Steve insisted and just laid back as Eddie pulled his pants down and put the diaper on him.
"There, all done."
Eddie had barely moved away when Steve whined quietly, his stomach cramping even worse. It was only seconds before he was filling the diaper. It felt like it was going on forever, wave after wave of soft mush emptied out of him. It felt awful, but nowhere near as bad as when he'd had an accident without a diaper.
"You done?" Eddie asked softly after a few minutes.
"For now. Can you change me?" Steve asked quietly.
Eddie made quick work of changing him into a fresh diaper. Steve still wasn't comfortable, and knew it would happen again. But he felt at ease knowing he had Eddie to take care of him through anything.
Steve starting to get awful migraines as a result of all the concussions. But, instead of suffering from nausea and vomiting with the migraines, he gets the worst upset stomach and is constantly having to run to the bathroom to shit.
But sometimes the migraines leave him so dizzy he can barely move. Standing up and stumbling to the bathroom saps all his energy and he can barely stay upright to make the few steps to his ensuite and back. He tried laying on the bathroom floor, but it was too hard to be comfortable and somehow made the migraine even worse.
One day he woke up with one of those migraines, and the dizziness was even worse than normal. He couldn't sit up for more than a few seconds, let alone stand. But his stomach had kicked in, and he was desperate to go. He was torn, he really didn't want to have an accident, but even if he got up he'd probably fall and lose control before he even got to the bathroom. And it would be loose and wet and some would probably leak out of his pants so he'd have to clean the floor as well as himself.
His body decided for him. One last, harsh cramp and he couldn't hold it back. A rush of extremely soft, wet mush flooded the back of his pants. Steve winced a little at the way it felt against his skin, and at the smell. But his stomach was already feeling a little better, and he already had one hell of a mess to clean up, so he just bore down and pushed out the next wave of shit. As he did, his bladder released as well, soaking him in pee.
He shifted uncomfortably once he was done, he couldn't believe he'd had an accident in bed. He wanted to get cleaned up as quickly as possible, but the dizziness and migraine were still very much present. He knew that even if he was able to move enough to clean everything up, it wouldn't be long before he had to go again. So, he decided to stay in bed and wait it out, and any time he needed to shit again, he'd just let go, adding to the mess in his pants. He was just thankful that his mom was the sort of person who insisted on having mattress protectors on all beds in the house
He did end up shitting multiple times throughout the day, none as bad as the first time, but it was pretty unpleasant. Sometimes it was almost solid logs of shit that forced into his pants, others incredibly watery diarrhea. He was dreading the clean up, but he had to admit, it had made the migraine easier than normal as he wasn't making himself dizzier every time he had to get up to rush to the bathroom.
Late in the afternoon, he was just starting to feel better enough to get up and attempt the clean up. He was about to get out of bed when he heard the front door open and close, and Eddie calling out his name. He froze where he sat, not wanting Eddie to see him like this.
"Steve, are you okay?" Eddie called, tapping lightly on Steve's door before opening it. He instantly brought his hand up to cover his nose. "Oh, god. What's that smell?"
And Steve burst into tears. He was feeling bad enough about not being able to get up to use the bathroom and spending the day covered in his own shit, but to have Eddie come in before he'd had a chance to clean up and air out his room. It was all he needed to push him over the edge.
"Oh, baby. It's okay, don't cry." Eddie tried to reassure him. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I couldn't get up. And I couldn't hold it." Steve admitted, his face burning and tears streaming down his face.
"You had an accident in bed?"
Steve nodded, feeling humiliated. "Not just one."
"You had more than one accident? When did it start?"
"When I woke up. And any time I had to go, I couldn't. So it kept happening."
"Oh, Stevie. We need to get you cleaned up. You've been lying in it for hours, it's got to be making you sore. Come on, let's get you in the bath. I'll deal with your bed."
"You don't-"
"I want to." Eddie moved to help him up.
"Wait." Steve burst out. "The carpet. It's so wet, it's going to drip."
Eddie left the room for a few moments, returning with some trash bags which he created a path to the bathroom with. "Come on, baby. Let's make you feel all better."
Steve let Eddie help him up and guide him into the bathroom. Steve winced with every step as he felt his shit running down his legs and dripping onto the trash bags. In the bathroom, Eddie helped him out of his soiled clothing, shoving it instantly into another trash bag. He gently cleaned Steve up with a washcloth, removing every trace of poop. Steve's skin was very red in places on his ass and legs from where he'd been lying in it for so long. Once he was cleaned up, Eddie set the bath running, so Steve would be able to relax and feel better. After Steve was in the bath, Eddie went back to deal with the bed.
Steve had almost dozed off in the warm water by the time Eddie returned.
"How're you feeling, baby?" He asked softly.
"Better. How bad was it?" Steve asked hesitantly, glancing at the door.
"I had to trash pretty much all the bedding, we weren't going to get any of it clean. The sheets, your comforter, even that weird protector thing your mom wants on the bed. But nothing got on the mattress."
"Okay. I'm not attached to any of it."
"I've got the windows open to clear the smell, but I don't think we can sleep in there tonight."
"Guest room, then."
"Yeah. And I was thinking, don't hate me for this or anything. But maybe we should look at getting some puppy pads or diapers in case this happens again. So if you can't get up, you don't have to worry about the mess." Eddie suggested.
"I. I don't know. Maybe." Steve knew it was a good idea, but he hated the reminder of what had happened. At least he had Eddie to help make him feel better.
Honestly, this came from the way I have to shit constantly when I have a migraine. I just wish I could get away with not getting up to stumble to the bathroom.
“Why did you never tell me that was something you were into?”
“Honestly, Stevie, I had no idea it was.”
- Spozzbob
@spozzbob thank u for the prompt 💚💯
hmm so the question is, which one (or both) were/are holding before this convo?
or, do they get in a pickle, both of them, and Eddie's the one who gets hard?
So like, maybe Steve isn't actively turned on by it- doesn't think much about bathroom stuff- it's just body manics, you know? like, sometimes, when you push yourself athletically, you vomit. Or, if you had to be super-hydrated sometimes for the thing you're gonna make your body do, sometimes that means you're gonna piss a fuckton, sometimes in the middle of a game. Stretching and working on sore muscles can feel good, endorphins feel good, sometimes taking a good shit is just Chef's Kiss, yanno?
but he's never made the connection to it being hot.
but here they are, stuck in fucking traffic, and maybe they're on a bridge, or maybe just a place w/ guardrail and no shoulder, but they can't pull over anyplace, and traffic is almost at a standstill.
they were supposed to be back an hour ago, but they're not, and they're goddamn desperate. maybe they've got a bottle between them?
Yes, alright, a bottle between them, and Eddie's just used it, used it in batches, basically, pissed, opened his door and dumped it out, and then finished pissing.
But they are moving at just enough of a crawl that Steve, the driver, has to have some hands on the wheel etc.
Eddie looks over at Steve when he's done, and Steve is Frowning.
"Man, I don't know how you want to... you want to switch? if you put it in park for- no where for you to, uh, completely clear out, but you could piss at least, like I just did-"
and traffic picks that moment, of course, to crawl forward.
Steve bites his lip.
"It'll... i'll be fine. "
Eddie looks from Steve's lying face, to the hand he has buried in his lap.
"Yeah, not sure I believe you. uh, how can I help, then?"
And steve chews his lip a bit.
"I... it would be easier if I only had to shit. um. how... fuck-"
And steve cut off to wiggle in place, somehow keeping the beamer moving straight ahead.
Eddie is quiet for a moment, no noise in the car but Steve's troubled breathing, and then Eddie offers-
"Uh, what if I... helped you out?"
Steve stills, glares at the road, sighs. no, he'd rather not piss himself, so...
"Yeah, okay. do it."
Steve scoots as far forward as he can manage and still be driving comfortably. one handed, he masters himself best as he can, undoes his fly, and bares himself.
the moment his damp cock hits the cooler open air, he's leaking a little, but Eddie was obviously watching closely, and the jet only half lands on Steve's jeans, they other part neatly caught in the bottle Eddie is holding in place.
Steve does his best to line himself up, with nudging from Eddie, registers that it's safe to go, and then carefully, careful not to also let himself relax any other way, carefully starts to piss.
god it feels good, good enough he doesn't even care he's got his boyfriend not only as a witness but active participant.
all too soon, however, Eddie is tapping at his thigh to get his attention.
"steve. stevie. come on, babe, you gotta stop for a minute. not enough space."
it feels mean, to be asked to stop, but obviously that's not actually eddie's fault, so steve breathes out, and clenches up, and he's fuck fuck not actually sure he's all the way stopped but it's not getting better, so he just grabs himself tighter and thumbs the head and urges eddie "fuck, hurry hurry, please" and eddie is dumping the bottle and steve can hear the glug and spatter of the liquid and traffic crawls forward, and his hand is getting wet...
and Eddie is back, and steve is looking out the windshield so he doesn't rear-end this damn winnebego in front of him, but the moment he feels eddie get the bottle lined up again, steve starts pissing again with a gasp...
it's quiett, in the beemer, when it's all done, and steve is torn between relief on the one hand, mild embarrassment for the amount of urine he's pretty sure has gone all over the place and the help he needed, and the still very pressing need to poop.
but eddie is weirdly quiet, even for something like this, so steve takes the next opportunity to look over.
eddie is resolutely staring out his window, hair shielding his face, one hand braced awkwardly still on his thigh and...
Fuck, was Eddie hard over there?
"You okay over there, Munson?"
"Yep!" said Eddie, a bit strained.
"Aaaaaanything you want to follow that up with- ugh."
A wave of cramping hit Steve, and he had to focus, for a minute, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie tug at his crotch, readjusting.
"So, hah, so why did you never tell me you were into... what, watersports?"
Eddie tugged his hair over his face in mortification for a moment, before taking a deep breath and squaring up to the question.
"Honestly, Steve, I didn't know I was until just a few minutes ago."
"What... what did you like about it?"
"... do we really want to talk about this now?"
"... unless you've got a better idea. Would you rather I talk about how goddamn badly I still need to shit?"
Eddie made a little noise.
"Fuck, really? Okay, now you've gotta explain."
Eddie hissed out a frustrated breath
"I don't know, man! I think it... fuck. I don't know... maybe it's because you sounded like you do when it's really good, and you're about to come? Or... I don't know, man."
"But you're still hard over there, yeah?"
"Yes, Steve."
The idea of it... well it wasn't doing nothing for Steve. And hey, maybe it would be a good distraction, even if "can't piss when you're hard" was only sort of true, and also didn't apply to very very urgently needing a shit.
"... you wanna jerk off?"
"... now?"
Steve nodded. "Yeah, if you want to."
Eddie was quiet, thinking.
"I don't know. I feel... kind of weird? like... like taking advantage?"
Steve shook his head.
"Nah, you're good. Uh, go ahead. And, uh, maybe talk me through it?"
Steve fucking loved it when Eddie talked too much during sex.
"... fuck it, okay. You fucking win." Steve heard the sound of a zipper. "Fuck. Fuck, okay, uh, what do you want me to talk about?"
Steve chewed his lip again, and wriggled uncomfortably.
"Uh, tell me how it feels? Tell me how it... what you liked, what you think about... if you wanna do something with this again sometime? when we're not in traffic."
Steve could hear the shuff of skin against skin.
"Uh, alright, alright, so... um. so I didn't notice, uh, before I pissed, yeah? like I was kind of hard after, but it's just... it's like that sometimes, yeah?"
Steve nodded "piss boner. yeah."
"Yep, uh, but I ignored it because obviously, and then tried to help you out and then... ah fuck. shit, uh, when you started going before I got the bottle in place? and, fuck fuck, feeling it, uh, feeling how the bottle got warm and heavy? and knowing that had just, like, been inside you? and, ah, and then you had to stop, and it's so hard to stop, and you did, but you couldn't hold it and I tried to be quick, and that's when I notice I was, like, still fucking hard about it?. Fuck-"
Eddie broke off into a quiet groan, as it started to get really good.
Steve's guts gave an audible gurgle, and he felt another surge of pressure, and pressed himself down into his seat.
"Fuck, fuck, how bad is it, Steve? I don't know what we can..."
Steve shook his head.
"It's fine. I''ll be- ah!"
Steve had to stop talking for a moment, and his body tried to force him to push, and he resisted.
"ng, fuck, i''l... ah. I'll make it a while still. but when we get off this stupid fucking road.... ng."
Eddie's arm was definitely still jiggling in the passenger seat.
"Ah, so, uh... so does this work for you too? or was it just, like, a piss thing?"
"... no, this works for me too. sorry."
Steve shook his head.
"Dude, don't be sorry. I'm, like, telling you it's fine, man. I don't... I don't know how I fell about, hng, hah, mmmm, about a- all of it, but It's... it's actually better knowing you, like, get something out of this, instead of just, like, feeling embarrassed that I can't fucking... that I would have, like, peed my pants if I'd been alone."
"... really? this... you're, like, uncomfortable, and you're okay that I'm, like, getting off about it?"
Steve laughed, and winced.
"ah, wouldn't be the first time. you remember...?"
"... I don't think edging is quite the same, babe."
"Why not? if we both agree, both times..."
"... but you didn't know-"
"You didn't know either, you just said, but now I'm agreeing- ah, fuck-"
Steve broke off again, breathless as he held back, as he forced his body to comply.
"how bad?" Eddie asked "Not for like kinky reasons or anything, but like. How uncomfortable are you? Not that I have a solution... "
".... Oooh, that was a bad one ". Steve gasped out, as the wave passed, "uh, This sucks, but I... I'll make it I think. It's not the worst I've ever had? It doesn't really hurt all that much, or anything. It's just, ng, a lot. I don't even think... Like I've had food poisoning, and I've had you know coming off of Russian interrogation drugs..."
"Our fucking lives, man..."
"Yeah, so compared to that, or like... Like did I ever tell you I, ah, I shit my pants in... what, that was '83? After the first time I fought a demogorgon?"
"... No, you didn't."
Eddie had resumed jerking off, at a slower pace.
"Yeah, uh, the adrenaline dump I think, I guess. You know that stuff went down and we survived and all and I don't know, I went home after. And it was in my car on the way back like I guess it all just hit me? Exactly how God damn insane it all was, and my stomach just like... I went from fine to just like fucking lava in my guts in about 10 seconds. Held off for a few minutes, Even after all that I still didn't you know want to shit in my car, but as soon as I got out and stood up at home, there it went."
Eddie made a little noise.
"You... you're telling me this on purpose, aren't you?"
Steve grinned, even as he put a free hand gently on his stomach, rubbing a little, as if he could ease the cramping that way.
"Dude, I'm just happy there's an upside."
Eddie groaned, and Steve heard him spit in his hand and keep going.
"So right now," Steve continued, genuinely sold on the idea that there was an upside to this, and lowkey just a tiny bit turned on that his partner was turned on, even if this wasn't exactly how he had planned to get him that way, "Like it's been a minute, so I was like due for bathroom break anyway this evening, but something obviously upset the rest of the system. If this was normal, I would have been fine, like I would have known I had to go, you know? But, you know, it would just be sitting there and I would be fine. Not like, you know, the first time I ever had to spend an afternoon with one on deck. And this isn't even like before a game or anything."
Eddie was moving, hitching his hips up into his hand, every so often.
"But this is like... It's not even that I'm like worried I'm going to shart or anything, all the, like, liquid stuff is you know way up in my system, I think, but it's pushing on what was already there and ready to go, you know?"
"fuck fuck fuck," Eddie said.
"So like, every time it, ung, it cramps, like, it just shoves that one towards the exit, you know? And like, there's not even anywhere for it to go with me sitting down like this, but I'm afraid if I, ah ah mmmm, If I, you know, don't keep it back, then even when we get to where we can stop, if I stand up, I'm afraid it's gonna be like that time, that this, like, fucking cork or whatever will pop out and that'll be that, and it'll be a big fucking mess. But every time, ah ah hah, every time, you know, it's a little worse, and it feels like that one just like gets a little further, and is a little h- haaaa ng harder to pull back, mmmmm."
It's a bad wave that time, and Steve feels himself open up, feels the tip poking out. He does his best not to push, to leave the space and clench down and pull it back, but many more of those...
"Man, it just poked out a little bit. If I'm not careful, I'm going to be touching cloth here in a minute.
"Aw fuck, Stevie," Eddie said, and Steve saw him arch up and recognized the little noises he made as a damn good orgasm.
.
Steve did not shit himself in the beamer and, not really relishing the cleanup if he were to give in and drop this on the side of the road, since part of it was almost certainly diarrhea and would make a goddamn mess... Well. He wasn't very inclined to pull over. Plus, now it seemed like a game, seemed like a challenge, so neither did he pull over at any of the available stops once they finally got back onto normal roads.
He knew it was a dicey proposition, and Eddie insisted he should take it easy, not to do anything on his account, but Steve was stubborn that way.
Teeth clenched, strength wearing thin, nonetheless Steve limped in the last couple of miles into Loch Nora with his legs so goddamn rigid he had cramps in them, cheeks practically fused together to make it just the last little bit. He thought about pulling over and swapping with Eddie so Eddie could drive, but he thought he maybe was going to have just enough stamina left to get into his own house, and he definitely didn't have time to waste playing musical damn car seats.
Plus, he thought, Eddie's distraction might actually be worse than his. Eddie stared at him the whole time, and he didn't pull himself out again, but Steve knew his boyfriend well enough by this point to Guess that it wouldn't take him very much to work himself back up again.
finally, they made the turn up his street, and Steve a little bit felt like he might die before he got it in park, but soon enough there it went and there they were.
Steve was actively sweating when he popped his door and when he went to turn to swing his feet out he had to stop and hold very very still.
"Come on Steve, you got this!"
"Not if I move I don't."
Steve closed his eyes and clenched his teeth and clenched every fucking thing else, and his leg bounced and his knuckles were white and he made a little humming noise under his breath, he knew he was making a hell of a scene, but it wasn't anything he was even doing on purpose.
He thought if he just didn't move, if he just... He was on top of it, he was holding it, he was holding it, so if he just didn't move ...
He heard Eddie moving around, even heard the scrape of the keyhide up on the porch, but he could barely think about what that meant.
"Come on, Stevie, I've got the door open and everything."
Steve just shook his head.
"Babe, it's fine if you don't make it, but let's get inside, yeah? let me help you up."
Steve didn't feel like he had a handle on it yet, but it's was definitely the kind of neighborhood that noticed, so he knew he needed to get up soon. Maybe of they went quick?
"OKay, " Steve half-grunted out, as his core was otherwise engaged, "okay, pull me up."
eddie took his hands and pulled, and the moment Steve's ass left the seat, the log came right out.
Steve let go and dropped back with a gasp as it got shoved partway back up.
"Fuck, I'm shitting, fuck, it's halfway out I-" and eddie just tugged him upright again.
More shit came out, getting softer just as he guessed, and somehow he started walking up to the house, pushing a little involuntarily as he went.
"Fuck, Eddie, I can't stop. I'm shitting my pants. I- fuuuu hnnnnnnn-" and steve gave in and bore down and he could feel his shorts filling and sagging, and eddie was still herding him inside, and walking and shitting at the same time was not exactly comfortable.
Still, thy made it up the stairs somehow, and Eddie maneuvered him towards the downstairs guest bath.
"No," Steve managed, "No sh- nnnnnnnn- no shower in there."
"Steve, you can't get up the stairs, can you?"
".... fuck. Backyard."
they made it just outside, just out the back door, and steve couldn't wait any longer. He dropped into a crouch and pushed.
It felt so good, and he started peeing again, part way through, and then his legs were actually so shaky he collapsed down onto his spread knees, blissfully, forcefully emptying himself.
When he finished, or mostly finished, he looked up to see eddie standing there, mouth open, watching in awe, and stroking himself through his pants.
"Fuck," Steve said, feeling embarrassed but also pretty fucking good. "You gonna come again?"
"Uh huh." eddie said, nodding, and speeding up.
"Don't" Steve said, sharply.
Eddie whined, but stopped, looking at him, pleadingly.
feel free to kick this to someone else or ignore it if it's not your jam, but what about Steve experimenting with getting high with Eddie, the first time he's felt or started to feel really comfortable being in an altered state since star Court
and they've upped their amount, and Steve is feeling good, if a bit dizzy / vertigo
And then suddenly, out of no where, He realizes he's about to shit himself
And between the giggles and the reduced coordination / vertigo from the weed, Steve's not even sure he can do anything about it, and is not sure if he's supposed to feel bad about that.
this is great! so I actually hate smoking weed because it just ends up making me super anxious lol and last time I smoked I whitied so hard I had to nap in my friend's mum's bed to feel human again lmao so I don't touch the stuff anymore 😂 so yeah I decided made Steve suffer
Steve flops back on to Eddie's bed, the room spinning in a way that makes him feel like he can't be upright anymore.
"You good, dude?"
"Mhm-hm," Steve grins and shoots Eddie a loose thumbs-up with his eyes closed, "yeah, 'm so good right now."
Eddie just laughs as he takes another drag, "You want any more or are you done?"
"Think 'm done. Can't move now."
The room is quiet with just the sounds of Eddie's inhales and Dio playing softly in the background. Eddie picks himself up off the floor to stub the roach out and sits himself against his headboard, feet shoving their way under Steve's thighs.
"Mmm, that feels nice."
"My feet?" Eddie wiggles his toes which makes Steve laugh. "You're a freak, dude."
There's a peaceful air to the night as they both relax, enjoying their highs. A quiet gurgle comes from Steve and Eddie opens his eyes - he hadn't even realised he'd closed them - to see a tiny frown etched into Steve's brow.
Another little gurgle comes from Steve and now he's paying attention Eddie can tell it comes from his stomach not the back of his throat.
Steve's eyes suddenly shoot open and he looks at Eddie, panicked, "I need to shit."
"Okay?" Eddie looks back at him blankly, "You know where the bathroom is, man."
"I can't move." One hand is holding his stomach now and he reaches out with the other to grasp Eddie's ankle. "Oh fuck, Eds, I think 'm gonna shit myself."
Eddie's too high to appreciate the severity of the situation. He leans forward and pulls Steve into a sitting position, "You got this man, you're fine."
Steve tries to stand but he's so off-balance that he just falls back onto the bed. "Eddie," he says urgently, "I can't get up."
The sheer panic on Steve's face starts to filter through to Eddie and he realises that Steve's not joking about this - he really thinks he's gonna shit himself.
"It's okay, Stevie," he rubs Steve's shoulder comfortingly, "I'll help you up. We'll get you to the bathroom."
With Eddie stood in front of the bed to support him, Steve actually manages to stay standing this time. But he's let go of his stomach to hold on to Eddie's arms to keep himself stable, and the gurgles come back in full force.
Eddie walks backwards as Steve slowly shuffles with him and they're making good progress. They've just got to Eddie's bedroom door when Steve freezes and tightens his grip on Eddie's arms.
"Eddie," Steve whines and squirms on the spot a little, "It's starting to come out, I can't hold it."
"Hey, you're okay we're nearly there, just hold on a little longer."
"I can't. Eddie, I -" the loudest gurgle yet makes Steve's knees buckle and then he's filling his pants with wet mush. "I - Eds - 'm so sorry."
"Oh baby," Eddie uses his thumb to wipe at the tears that have started to fall down Steve's cheeks, "it's okay, sweetheart, just let it out."
Steve's sobbing and he falls into a slight squat as another wave of shit pushes out of him and makes his pants sag. Eddie just holds him close and kisses his forehead, muttering soft words of encouragement.
"I've got you, my love, you're okay."
Steve whines and drops his head to Eddie's shoulder as he continues to shit his pants. It takes a few more minutes before he feels like it's over and gingerly moves back to standing properly. He can feel the way the warmth shifts and squishes against his ass and the weight of it in his pants and winces.
"Can you move yet, Stevie? You all done?"
"I th-think so. Eds. I'm s-sorry, I couldn't -"
"Hey, shush. You're okay. We're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart."
After everything was all over, the world was safe, it had been arranged for the older teens to get out of town for a couple of nights, and they'd decided, as a group, to go camping.
They got set up on a campsite, Steve and Eddie sharing a tent, Nancy and Jonathan sharing, and Robin on her own. They weren't too far from the bathrooms, maybe a five to ten-minute walk, but they did have a wooded area on two sides of the area they'd set up in. So in the evenings while they were drinking, they planned to mostly use the woods to pee so they wouldn't have to cross the campsite while drunk.
The problem came with Steve, after everything with the Upside Down, he could not pee in the woods. Something about the feeling of vulnerability and not knowing what was out there.
He admitted this to Eddie a few days before they planned to leave, who made a slightly joking suggestion, and an impulse purchase, for Steve to use pull-ups. So he didn't have to hold it all the way to the bathroom.
Steve went along with it the first night, not actually intending to use the pull-up. He changed in the tent, pulling his jeans back on so the others wouldn't see.
They all set in, drinking pretty heavily. An hour passed, then two. As it came up to nearly three hours of them drinking, the others had all got up to pee at least once, Nancy and Robin heading in one direction, Eddie and Jonathan heading in the other.
Steve was squirming where he sat, desperately needing to pee, but not wanting to get up and spend ten or more minutes trekking to the bathroom and back. He accepted the beer Eddie offered him, only sipping on it slowly.
He lost track of the conversation, and stilled suddenly as he felt the first hint of wetness soaking into the front of the pull-up. He could feel Eddie's concerned glances from the side, as he lost the fight.
"Oh, fuck. I'm using my pull-up." He murmured, just loud enough for Eddie to hear.
The flood was a little too much for the pull-up to handle, small wet spots caused by leaks appearing around the leg bands. When he stood up, it wasn't just the small amount of wetness that gave it away to the others, it was the amount the pull-up was sagging under the weight of all his pee.
At least the next night, he didn't have to wait so long. If he had to pee he could just wet his pull-up and then change in the tent without making the others suspicious, as they already knew.
