Francis and Tucker: Desperate CEO
Francis was in a bit of a bind.
Earlier in the day, he had barely noticed his need to piss. Glass after glass of water had passed through his hands, as he worked tirelessly - sorting through emails, leading marketing sessions, doing other odds and ends for his job, as the CEO of AquaCycle, one of the companies that pioneered the cities first low impact water based cycling class. Of course, that meant he was surrounded by the sounds of splashing water each and every day. Whether that meant sitting in on classes, watching and approving promotional videos, or simply passing through the lobby, Francis was constantly exposed to splashing, flowing, trickling water.
Today of all days, of course, he was acutely aware of just how loud the water was, as he shuffled frantically down the hallway to the elevators that would lead him to the lobby. The need to go had made itself aware just as soon as he had stood up to leave for the day, and now, as he hurried along, it was steadily growing worse. After all, he hadn't had the chance to go at all. Meeting after meeting, each droning on for eternity, had caused him to simply be too busy to even pay any mind to his bladder.
And of course, today, he got out late. Which meant that he hadn't had time to stop to piss before his driver got there. Francis was not a man who appreciated being held up, and so he was sure to uphold that with the people who provided their services to him as well. As he climbed into the back of the car, he fought back the urge to moan - his bladder had convulsed with the movement.
“Good evening, sir. Just back home?” The driver asked cheerfully, as he was blissfully unaware of how badly his passenger needed the toilet.
“Yes, thank you very much.” Francis said through gritted teeth, hoping he didn't sound annoyed. In reality, he was very, very annoyed, but only with himself for getting into this situation in the first place. Each bump they hit, each sudden stop, was torturous. He was just thankful that he was able to hold his crotch as much as he needed in the backseat.
Thankfully, the ride back to his apartment building was quick. He tipped the driver, then scrambled from the car to the entrance. Each moment was crucial, in his mind, to making it to the toilet. His shaking hands could barely push the door open as he was buzzed in. Once again, his bladder convulsed - and then, to his horror, a spurt flew from him and into his boxers.
“Shit, shit, shit!” He whispered to himself, leaving dignity behind as he ran to the elevator, rushing inside and pressing the button to get to the top floor desperately. Every second he was faced with the building pressure in his bladder, no longer a throb, but a heat that felt nearly unbearable. When he finally reached his floor, he had to shuffle once again at a slow pace to hold it all in. He could see salvation soon, he was so close. Just a few more steps. Except he wasn't anticipating that he wouldn't be able to remove his hands from his crotch.
Francis was frozen in place in front of his apartment door, unable to move his hands in fear he would soak the floor and his own pants in the process. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes as he stared at the wood in front of him, wishing he could will it open with his mind. He whimpered loudly, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to alleviate the pressure.
Then, his luck seemed to turn. The door opened and in front of him stood his boyfriend, Tucker.
Tucker was shocked to see his usually stoic boyfriend in such a precarious state. His eyes drank up the sight: Francis’ body, contorted like a pretzel, hands shoved between his legs as he potty-danced in front of the door.
“Oh? Does puppy need to go potty?” He asked coyly, as he pulled his whimpering boyfriend inside.
“Yes, yes, I need to go! Ive had to go since this morning and I just couldnt, and now it hurts and I feel like im going to burst!” Francis cried out, stamping his foot in emphasis.
Tucker could see how desperate his poor puppy was, and decided to at least be merciful on him - this time. “Well, okay. Do you think you can make it to the toilet?” He asked softly. When he received no response from Francis, he realized that he was simply too full to even focus on words. Looking around, he tried to find a container that could hold the waters of his large bladdered boyfriend. After a moment, his eyes landed on the large vase beside the door that they used to hold umbrellas. “Okay, puppy. You’re going to pee in this vase.” He gestured to it.
“Cant… Cant.” Francis sobbed. “Cant move…”
Tuckers eyes widened as his lover cried out. He wondered just how busy Francis had been to let it get to this point. “Oh, my puppy, let me help.” He cooed, standing behind him. “Im going to move your hands away, puppy. You have to hold it for just one second while I unbutton your pants and pull you out.” He cooed.
“Cant hold it…” Came another cry from Francis.
“Yes, you can. Im going to help.” Tucker reassured him, as he pried his lovers hands away. He carefully unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his already dripping member and aiming it at the vase. He looked away to give him privacy, but, slowly realized that he heard no splattering sounds. “Francis? Whats the…” His eyes drifted to his lovers face, which was contorted in agony.
“Cant pee in front of you…” He wailed, his body fighting itself.
“Oh, puppy… Come on, now. Its alright.” He used his other hand to massage the bulge that protruded from his bladder. Then, in one swift motion, he pushed down hard. The sounds that erupted from Francis’ mouth were practically guttural, a fountain of piss erupted from him. Tucker watched as his lover became undone, crying from relief and embarrassment. Two long minutes and a shake later, he was soothing him back onto the couch.
“Sorry…” Francis cried softly, unable to look Tucker in the eyes.
“It’s alright, puppy. It was just an accident.” He cooed, hugging him tightly. “You’re going to be alright. Just lay down and let me take care of you.” He ran a hand over his cheek, wiping his tears away. “My good, sweet puppy.”