Thinking about someone being forced to give a stool sample at the doctor’s office while being observed by the doctor/nurses. They give the doctor a look of surprise when the doctor sets out a bedpan and asks them to squat. They immediately turn red and being protesting, but the thought of pooping and the sudden nervousness causes their stomach to begin churning. “I felt something nice and big in there when I felt your abdominal region earlier,” the doctor shakes his head and grins at the patient. “I’m sure you can push something out.”
Just then, the patient lets out a fart. They begin spluttering. “I don’t- I don’t need to poop, I’m just nervous,” they say. The doctor just smiles more, and sits down on his chair, legs crossed, waiting with his eyes focused on the patient.
They squirm now, mortified. Are they really about to poop in front of the doctor? The more they think about it, the more air seems to chug through their intestines, urging them to force out dry farts.
“There’s no need to be scared,” the doctor says. The patient avoids his eyes and weighs their options while sweat begins to bead on their forehead.
Suddenly their stomach cramps, slightly, but enough that it forces a small grunt from their lips. They look at the doctor, horrified at their moment of weakness. The doctor chuckles. “Come on, just let it out and it will all be over with,” he says. “Sounds like it’s coming soon wether you like it or not.”
They want to burst into frustrated tears as an ache begins to grow in their stomach. Whimpering, they pull off their pants and underwear, feeling cool air brush their skin. Just the act of undressing prepares his bowels for evacuation, and the urge grows immensely stronger within seconds. His breathing quickens as he gets gingerly into a squatting position.
“There we go. Alright, begin whenever you’re ready,” the doctor comes closer in his chair, so he’s eye-level with the patient’s bottom. The patient is practically dripping sweat with the effort to not blast hot farts into the doctor’s face.
“Please can I just be alone?” They squeak out, one more futile attempt to gain privacy. The doctor looks up at their face, smiles gently, and shakes his head.
“Nope, this is how we make sure we’re getting a fresh untampered sample,” he says. “Now come on, let it out.”
The patient’s legs are quaking ever so slightly as a cramp seizes their gut. A long dry fart whistles from their anus as it begins to stretch. They squeeze their eyes shut in shame, muttering incomprehensibly under their breath. “Please, no, please, no, not here,” they whine. Then they’re cut off by their own furious grunt as the urge to bear down becomes overwhelming. “Hhnnnnnnnng!”
They are horrified at their own primal noises. Their eyes open to see the doctor smiling pleasantly at them, then looking down at their doming anus. “Wow, are your movements usually this solid and difficult to get out?” He asks pleasantly.
“Y-yes,” the patient says shamefully. They stare at the doctor with glazed eyes as they begin another push. A loud fart pops out around the brick of poop widening their hole. They grunt loudly again, and it feels so good they almost don’t care that the nurses and other patients outside might hear them. Their stomach pulses with the urge to push as hard as possible to get the poop out. Its fat dry head is beginning to crown now, forcing their anus taut and wider than they’d ever seen it before.
“Good job,” the doctor says as he watches the patient’s bottom open wide for accommodate the load. He looks up into the patient’s glassy eyes, their face contorted in effort, strain, and humiliation. “This is hard work for you, huh?” He asks. The patient gets even redder, deepening their squat by leaning back on their hands and thrusting their pelvis forward. They are launched into another involuntary instinctive push, one that forces an animalistic grunt from their throat. They shake and shudder as the poop reaches its maximum width, bulging forth like a tree trunk from the earth.
“Here it comes,” they grunt out, taking in a massive breath. Their belly muscles tighten and constrict once more, and an almighty groan comes from their lungs. “It’s coming, it’s coming,” they say as the poop inches further out of their bum, rocky and glinting in the light. Finally it thuds into the bedpan, and the patient lets out an unencumbered sigh of relief.
character who always has big, solid shits...like i'm talkin firm, huge loads that only take a little effort to get out. the problem is...he's not exactly super regular about it, nor does he have the best control. it always comes out when he least expects or wants it to. usually at work. he has to struggle to hold it until he gets home, and when he gets home, he has to do the awkward 'oh god i'm about to poop myself' waddle-run for the bathroom. sometimes, even then, he doesn't make it and has to do that awkward half-squat in the hallway, pushing a long-delayed load of firm shit into his work pants.
worst of all, he hates having to do laundry because of it. so, so many pairs of boxers in the laundry basket. even worse than that, he lives with other people. he has to run the risk of someone noticing how much laundry he's going through, or, god forbid, they actually see him shit himself. and because it's so random, he runs that risk all the time.
through one way or another, he ends up wearing a pull-up. white, medical, plain. maybe trying to get over a UTI while still working his 8-6 job. he ends up needing a shit fairly early on, which means by the time he gets home, he's desperate for the bathroom. he parks the truck and just sits for a moment before getting out. the moment he's out of the seat, he almost loses it. he considers just giving in, but it's at least worth the effort of trying to make it to the bathroom.
he makes it to the bathroom door and moves to shove it open, relieved at the prospect of...relief. but when he opens it, he finds someone else already on the toilet. they yell at him to shut the door, and he does, backing up and glancing around. seeing as nobody can see him, he starts wiggling like a worm, grabbing at his rear as if that's going to keep him from having an accident.
he can't hold it long at all. he crouches down right there in the hallway, bracing himself against the wall, finally, just pushing it all out and getting it over with. he didn't think he could even fathom shitting this much, but it's enough that he has to tug his pants down to give himself more room to fill his pull-up.
once he's pretty sure he's done, he reaches a hand around to pat his bottom and see how much he really did...
it's a lot. more than he thinks he's ever gone in his life. and on top of all of it, he gets the urge to pee, so he does, letting out a painful jet of piss that soaks into the padding immediately.
"...[character]? what are you... are you having an accident?" he turns, his face growing hot with embarrassment as he sees his [family member/friend] at the end of the hallway.
"I..." he tries to come up with some sort of excuse, but can't. "don't- don't worry about it."
The boy sat on the crowded uncalm couch. Loud music was playing. Drunk people dancing, shouting, laughing.
He had been invited to a houseparty by his crush. The boy was so nervous and anxious and really didn't enjoy parties like this but decided to go as he wanted so desperately to fit in and to see his crush.
The boy looked around, hoping his crush was gonna come to his rescue and save him from this nightmare but the crush was no where to be seen.
He got more and more anxious and felt completely out of place and awkward. The living, crowded couch made his body unwillingly jump up and down, from side to side. Bumping into the people he was squeezed between. He felt a sudden ache in his lower belly and the urge to use the bathroom.
The boy panicked, bolted up and ran to the bathroom. phew. it wasn't occupied. He ran in and locked the door behind him, closed his eyes and emitted a long sigh. His belly gave out a loud growl and the boy hunched over with a hand on his lower abdomin, moaning.
He pulled his pants down and sat on the toilet. The cold seat sent a shiver up his spine. He could hear the music and murmur of the crowd. On occasion someone tried the doorhandle and even knocked. The boy sat quiet as a mouse with his hands on his belly. He pushed hesitantly and in short rounds as he was afraid that anyone would hear if he succeeded to poop. He had the feeling that it would get really noisy and messy if he pushed too hard.
His belly was really hurting now and he desperately needed relief but this toilet was right in the middle of a passageway and the hallway outside was busy like a trainstation. If only he had made it to a more secluded toilet but he didn't know his way around the house. He was stuck here.
The anxiousness and the continious noise made his system frreeze up completely. His belly was still hurting and he was beginning to feel a bit nausious too. He gave it one last push but nothing happened other than a sickening feeling in his stomach.
He needed some fresh air but he was afraid to come out. What if someone noticed that he had been in there for the good part of an hour, or worse, call him out on it.
This was the anxiety speaking. Of course no one would notice him. They were all drunk and probably didn't even care.
He washed up and opened the door slowly. The door was yanked open from the outside "FINALLY" a big dude yelled. The boy bolted out the door and ran through the crowded hallway, bumping into people. He was so desperate to get outside.
Someone was watching him from a distance.
The boy finally found his way to the garden. No one was out here as it was a bit chilly. He found a bench in a private corner and sat down. As he started to rest into the seat of the bench, the ache came back. the sickening ache had been overpowered by adrenalin when he ran out. But now he felt it again. The urge to find a bathroom rose but there was no way he was going back inside. The boy clutched his belly and clenched his hole as a bubbling growl sounded as a last warning.
He couldn't hold it. He looked around desperately for a secluded bushy area further away from the house. He had no way of cleaning himself but he didn't have a choice. He was gonna poop wether he liked it or not.
He bolted up and ran towards an area he had picked as a safe place. In his desperation he didn't notice that someone had been following him outside and now knew where he was gonna do his business.
He ripped his pants down and squatted in the cold moist dirt between two masive bushes. His belly growled and bubbled. It hurt so bad it made the boy sob. He began pushing but stopped abrubtly when he heard the snap of a stick on the ground. Terrified his eyes flickered around in the dusky atmosphere. was someone here ? He panicked. once again his system worked against him. "oh gawd. C'mon" he whispered to himself. He pushed again, hard but nothing happened. His intestines let out a long bubbly growl.
"ooow" the boy cried out. It hurt so bad the nausia came back. He covered his mouth with a hand and clenched his eyes shot. Not this too. Why was this happening to him.
As he sat there squatting. one hand covering his mouth, the other resting on his aching belly, he heard footsteps. No no no! " don't come closer, please" he cried out. "plea.." his voice cracked as a spasm and growl went through his upset insides. The boy was so mentally exhausted and his body was not agreeing with him. He started sobbing. He tried to push to get this sickening ache out of his system and right as he did so a girl appeared from behind the bushes.
"H...hi..uum..i'm sorry to barge in on you like this but... i've been watching you and i've been wanting to ask if you're OK all night but i've been too nervous. Gawd, this is a bad time. isn't it. My timing always sucks" The girl looked down on her feet, kicking at the dirt.
The boy was absolutely frozen with fear. He just sat there. couldn't move or speak. This didn't happen. It couldn't. This was a bad dream, surreal. He was squatting, pants down, belly aching and growling, nausias. he was about to push out sick poo and his crush just walked in on him. He wanted to just die right then and there.
"Please" he sobbed" Please go away. Don't look. Please just..." His head was lowered, eyes closed. He was hoping she would just vanish so he could take care of business. His belly was in so much pain. Horrified, the boy protested as his body unwillingly started to push. The sick shit needed to be expelled. He tried to clench up his hole but to no avail. He could feel how his bowels were forcing the shit toward his open ready anus.
Then something unexpected happened. The girl came closer and kneeled down next to him. She wrapped an arm around his back and placed a hand on his knee. The boy opened his eyes and looked at the girl. She smiled and he suddenly felt relaxed, safe. what was happening.
A loud growl from the boys aching belly interrupted the mutual stare. "hnngg ooow, it hurts" the boy cried " i have to get this out. I can't hold it anymore"
"Go on" said the girl. " I'll be here to help you calm down so you can finally go"
Something in her voice suddenly made everything feel ok. feel natural.
A huge bubbly growl made the boy clutch his belly and moan. The girl ran her hand up and down his back and with a big push all the overdue shit came sputtering out of the boy. Finally!
It kept coming out of him in waves as he pushed. " it hurts so much" he cried. His poor belly contracting non stop. More waves, sputtering sounds. Every growl made his belly contract and he urgently pushed, expelling more liquid out of his hole.
the last couple of pushes didn't result in anything and the boy relaxed. His legs had started to cramp from the everlasting squatting posision. Now what ? He was a mess.
The girl pulled out a roll of toiletpaper from her bag. She had anticipated the outcome. The boy was grateful. The girl gave him some privacy to clean himself.
She stood on the lawn looking up at the moon when the boy appeared from behind the bushes. He looked at her. Her face had a particular glow in the moonlit air. His heart skipped a beat. He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her. The other hand was rubbing his still sore belly. She turned around and pulled on his sleeve. He followed her to the bench he had sat on earlier. She sat down and gestured for him to lay down with his head in her lap. As he did, the girl lovingly started rubbing his belly to soothe it.
The boy was completely relaxed now. he closed his eyes and sighed with relief and content.
My boyfriend made me hold my shit today. It was starting to get to the point where I genuinely couldn't control it anymore. So he moved me to the toilet and I sat on it and tried to hold as long as I could while sucking his cock. I wasn't supposed to poop until he came but I couldn't hold it and it all came out, which then made him cum 😭
I desperately need to see my girlfriends shit themselves in front of me. I need to hear them groaning and fighting to hold it in, squirming on their chairs. I need to see them reach the point of no return, where they can't hold it back any longer. I need to watch them waddle over to where I'm sitting, bend over and spread their ass cheeks, and push out the fat loads of shit they've had stored up all day onto the floor in front of me. I need to see them gasping and breathless, their holes twitching and gaping as they recover from the sudden release of pressure. I love my girlfriends, and that's why I want to see them absolutely befoul themselves in front of me.
hi! anon here from the two requests (road trip and on the ice)…
tbh i love all of your ideas! i really do love the thought of shane being the driver who has to justify the stop, bc i can totally imagine the mental & physical battle he’s having with himself trying to think of a justifiable reason to stop other than telling the ilya the truth- and i LOVE ilya fighting the same battle as the passenger and feeling like he needs to maintain his tough guy act until he can finally succumb when shane stops. and then they’re both miserable- maybe even bonus points if there’s several stops required bc i feel like even if they’ve both succumbed to the embarrassment of admitting they have bodily functions, the idea of admitting it’s worse than a one-time stop is even MORE embarrassing to admit.
and for on the ice- that sounds like GOLD. tbh i’m just getting into hockey, so i’m not sure the rules on leaving the ice, but i love the thought of ilya being “stuck” out there and battling with “i’m gonna do it, i won’t make it” and “no i have to make it, there’s no other option” until finally he just books it off the ice. maybe even bonus points if ottawa or boston is playing montreal (or shane has now joined ottawa) so even moreso ilya doesn’t want to look weak in front of shane, but he literally cannot wait. i feel like this is a situation that HAS to occur more often in hockey, but it’s so rare to hear about or see! but we get to be the ones to fictionally put them into these scenarios hahaha
💚💚💚🎉🎉🎉 and you also have excellent ideas!! Thank you!
Okay. For gas station one, truly yes Shane is like the best at overthinking and torturing himself mentally. So here's my imagined Shane logic.
Ah fuck fuck, this is bad, shit, there's no way I'm managing the whole drive like this, fuck shit shit shit okay okay so we're gonna have to stop. No fucking way am I telling ficking Ilya Rozanov ive gotta go too bad to wait, so. Another plan.
There's a station with a bathroom in 10 miles. I have ten miles to figure it out.
Okay okay so telling him I can't hold it, like a kid, like a terribly unsexy kid, that's not an option.
So. Because I'm thirsty? No, could ask why not a drive thru. Gotta be gas.
I have a full tank. Filled up before I got home. Does he know that? Probably not. You can't see the fuel gage from that angle. So unless he leans over to look.
Okay, and then how to get into building? And without him? gonna have to go in to pay maybe- say i prefer not to pay with card because of card reader scams. okay, this could work.
"gonna stop for gas in seven miles "
But ilya doesn't chirp him for his uncharacteristic lack of planning, (because ilya is too busy going Oh Thank Christ gas stations have bathrooms- I will be able to slip away somehow and die quietly and return before Shane notices I sweat through my shirt)(his shirt is black so Shane might not have noticed even if Shane wasn't also Fucking Dying )
and the best bit- what do they do if they Can't shake the other, and end up both in the gas station??? both trying to wait the other out? or in the bathroom playing the same game?
Picturing both of them ending up at urinals trying very hard to relax enough to piss without accidentally doing anything else, each hoping the other will leave first so he can dash into a stall, shit like the wind, and dash out again.
I feel like one would have to give in, I think it strains credulity that neither would get to shit and theyd have to. get back in the car. still fucking desperate. and now it's even worse because they Were Just In a Bathroom Fuck. XD
more than likely, maybe shane shane is the one who gives up and leaves and goes to pump the gas, so ilys gets to shit, and then maybe shane finds his oppourtunity when he says the reciept didn't print some he has to go back inside for it?????
or, poor bastard, he's the one who doesn't get to go at all, BUT Ilya has an upset stomach, so they end up having to make a joint roadside stop anway, for Ilya to go again, and shane to go for the first time.
.
for the ice, idk that i've seen much about shitting, but I know I saw a clip from... fuck, was it getzky? and interview where he talked about a multiple-overtime game where he was so fucking exhausted that he could, like, barely feel his muscles at all let alone control them, and he either got bumped while on the bench, or just randomly on the bench, he just started wetting himself, and either he told the guy next to him, or the guy noticed...
but like i think i understand that actually they are sweating so goddamn much basically doing a minute of sprints aver four minutes that they don't get desperate to pee that often, staying hydrated is the bigger challenge...
which has GOT to mean diarrhea is a more common problem for them.
also the thing where any time one teammate gets a bug, fucking everyone immediately gets it (fucking Olympic Noro virus, and also the time a shitton of the NHL had measles and poor crosby had to tell the media they DIDN't all have measles, while looking like a chipmunk trying to smuggle a Tire out of Costco via his jaw.
you just KNOW any time the pike kids get sick, the metros are all down a week later, and 3/4ths of anything Marlow Gets, Ilya gets too, and promptly infects the rest of his team with.
so if Ilya has a close call night and It's a virus, like half the team is out like two days later. XD
and Ilya and Shane must be FOREVER giving each other horrible colds and viruses and shit. XD
... which has me thinking, have you read the hollanov sickfic where they eat a bad crab tower?? author does hurt/comfort sick fic, not desperation kink, but Golly it was great anyway. XD
(not really proofread- I'll end up cleaning this up lol and crossposting, so I'll proof it then)
First time at the cottage- first time Ilya is eating shane's preferred diet perhaps?
and they're swimming and working out and having adventures in between all the fucking, right, but even if it's the offseason, and even if Shane made sure to have stuff at the house that Ilya like/would normally eat (and ilya's a goddamn professional athlete, not like he eats complete trash, but still)... it's maybe a lot more fiber than Ilya is strictly used to (colon cancer is a real concern, ilya).
In the first little while, still more burgers than beans and lost in a warm haze of fucking and falling in love, ilya doesn't notice.
but partway through or towards the end of that first week, the diet shift hits him. while on a hike.
they both used the bathroom before they took off, and Ilya felt no shame about stepping off the path to piss on some tree roots a couple hours in, after their "picnic", before they started the return, and Ilya felt... maybe a little heavy? But what was there to worry about.
(And he stepped off the path first, but shane joined him immediately, and pissing side by side felt... comfortable, intimate, in a way it didn't normally, in a urinal or something. Ilya policed himself for a moment, when he had the urge to look... and then remembered that, probably, he was allowed to look. so he did, and found shane already looking, and as he shifted his feet, and his stream drifted a little, he saw shane's gaze follow the movement. a little shiver of something went up his spine, and he didn't know what to do with that, so he turned and angled towards shane, who jerked back with an offended noise, until he realized Ilya was just messing around and crossing their streams. it was... was pissing supposed to be fun? it hadn't been this silly fun comfortable since Ilya was a kid, and he was a tiny bit sad when his bladder was empty, and he had to stop. though he enjoyed watching shane blush a little as he kept going, noticeably longer than ilya had. he must have had to go even before they stopped for lunch. why hadn't he said anything? that little shiver happened again, as ilya thought about shane sitting on his little rock, eating his little bean sprout sandwich, bladder full and aching...)
So ilya hadn't thought much about the heaviness- his body, heart, mind, were otherwise just so light light light.
but the exercise, on his grain toast and hummus and so many vegetables sandwich, maybe wasn't ideal.
ten minutes back down the path, Ilya's stomach twists for the first time, and it's sharp enough his hand darts down for a moment.
but it eases.
"You okay?" shane asks? because of course mr observant noticed.
"Fine." Ilya says, and hopes shane lets it go. it'll be fine.
shane does not let it go, partly because another cramp twists, breaks, relaxes, and Ilya hesitates as he walks, gait changing just enough.
he catches shane looking at him, and shane tilts his head. Ilya waves it off.
the next cramp resolves in pressure, gas, and Ilya tries to be subtle as he drops back just a bit, politeness, so Shane does not have to walk directly through.
it's noticeable, but not too loud, and Shane giggles.
"Is your sprout things!" Ilya accuses, jumping on the opportunity to harass Shane again, "never have I eaten so many different kinds of plant in same sandwich."
Shane is smiling and shoves his shoulder
"oh, is canadian sprouted wheat too much for russian stomachs? you can drink as much vodka as you want, but a little fiber-"
Ilya farts again, and decides he will not be polite the next time. Shane can deal with it.
"Russians have stomach of iron."
the next fart is loud, and long, and Ilya clings to pride with his fingernails.
It's funny for a while, but while passing the gas creates some relief, the cramping continues, and Ilya is suddenly extremely suspicious of how... mobile, his guts feel.
"An hour and fifteen I think?" Shane says, "Maybe just an hour. Until we get back."
Ilya looks over.
"You got quiet. if you want to take a break, sit down or something-"
Ilya makes a derogatory noise.
" 'sit down' he says" really, what did Shane think his response would be, "Very good and expensive athletes, and he says 'sit down' because of bean."
the next cramp almost takes his breath away, and he feels things moving down down down.
maybe...
Can he make it? is only downhill, should not be so hard, and he's gone longer in worse shape, probably.
(he's thinking of one incident from his childhood, when he couldn't get out of practice, and that was much harder... and didn't end well.
but just a few years ago, after Boston won the cup, and the team spent nearly a week drunk and being plied with free food at every bar or restaurant they visited, Ilya had then had to get on a goddamn plane from Boston to Las Vegas, fucking direct, and he'd nearly died when he got the shits partway through the flight, and had to balance real risk of shitting himself on a long flight in public, with how much he was annoying and inconveniencing every one around him, as he repeatedly destroyed that bathroom.
and that had been four hours like that!
... well, four hours in which he could switch between shitting, and sitting very still, but!)
Ilya frowns, but keeps moving, only pausing occasionally when the tightness and pressure gets worse for a moment, before continuing.
After all, he's only Going to need to shit Soon, he doesn't Have To, YET.
They are 20 minutes from the cottage, by Shane's estimate, when Ilya has to stop, or shit his pants
he freezes in the middle of the path, glutes clenching, and holds very still, as the Something his guts have been brewing finally drops down, and fully fills his rectum. The pressure spikes.
Fuck.
He doesnt WANT to shit in the woods! It will be uncomfortable and embarrassing and he Really doesn't want to do that in front of Shane. They're in a more secure place than they were, but ilya still thinks his best bet to keep this relationship is to be as sexy as possible, which this Will Not Be.
The cramp eases, and though Ilya feels absolutely filled to the brim, fuck he has to piss again too somehow, he starts moving again. Cautiously placing one foot. And then the other.
"really, we can stop if-"
"I am. Fine " ilya insists. But fucks it up by needing to breathe in the middle.
"you got pale. Ilya. I can tell you aren't fine"
Ilya waves him off, tries to speed up. And feels the tip of his load start to breach-
He freezes again , clenches it back, feels himself break out in a sweat, even as he succeeds and it retreats. he feels full and awkward, like he can't walk right, like the mass of whatever horrible thing is happening in his guts is somehow widening his hips, pushing him apart into a new, careful gait.
"... uh, it is going to take longer than that if you can't, uh-"
Ilya stiffens.
"I can."
he clenches harder, forces himself to walk normal, or close to it.
fuck, there's so much pressure, it is fucking uncomfortable but Ilya won't, he's not going to...
Shane slows his pace, and Ilya doesn't make eye contact, focused on breathing, and moving, and keeping his core absolutely rigid, no room for anything to move around. he puts one foot in front of the other, and he sweats and he grits his teeth and rides out the waves.
he doesn't realize he made a noise, until shane makes a small one back, and he cuts a little quick glance at shane to find him-
staring.
fuck. fuck fuck.
ilya doesn't do humiliation, he's never embarrassed, he never cares enough about what other people think to be embarrassed. he fights the urge to lash out, to say something mean so Shane will be embarrassed instead, will look away, and then he stumbles slightly, looks down in a panic, feels himself lose it a little, has to stop to clench up again and-
-and catches sight of shane's slutty little hiking shorts.
Shane is hard.
the moment shifts. it feels like an echo of eight years before, when ilya masters himself, and looks back up at Shane, who's still staring, mouth open a little.
Ilya catches his eyes, flicks his own down to shane's groin and up again, and much as he once did, shane flushes and turns away so quick, but yeah, Ilya's not wrong.
this is turning shane on.
Ilya feels a little bit like he's dreaming, as he says "What, you want to pretend this did not happen?"
"... I don't know what you are talking about."
another wave rolls through ilya, and he feels himself leak a little, shove a hand in his pocket to grab himself, maybe no room for his bladder with everything else so full.
"I think you do. I think you- hah-" Ilya twists his hips uncomfortably, fights to hold on, "I think-" if shane is is into this, well, that's something else. Trust Shane to always surprise him (by being truly endlessly horny and kinky). Fuck, ilya loves him.
now, ilya's never actually... done anything in this area really, though he's sort of aware that some people do, at least, he's seen stuff pop up now and then on porn sites and stuff... but depending on what exactly is hot for Shane here, Ilya is almost always down to try New Stuff once or twice, before writing it off...
fuck fuck fuck it's gonna have to be a quick conversation though. fuck he would prefer to have a minute to discuss, but... well...
"you know you like this? What do you like about this?"
"Ilya-" Shane is definitely blushing, and won't look at him
"No no, you like this! You like something, and I do not think it is all the trees that have you filling up your small shorts this way."
"Filling out."
there. His beautiful pedantic shane.
"no, you fill them up, I can see, no room left when you are hot for me."
Shane looks at him, glares, opens his mouth clearly to argue- and Ilya sees him get caught, looking at Ilya, at Ilya's groin.
Ilya tries very hard not to be embaressed about how rigid he is holding his legs, or the shiver that runs through him as all the hairs on his body stand up in goose skin (as his body tries to make him do something he refuses to do)... Ilya treis not to be embaressed about the fact that his hand is damp, in his pocket, where he's holding himself again, because everytime he cleanches hard enough to keep it in, a little pee comes out and shane can probably see this from outside Ilya's shorts-
Shane's mouth is slightly open, and another cramp rolls through Ilya, pressure pressure and Ilya grits his teeth, and doesn't give in and his hand gets a little wetter, and shane licks his bottom lip, sucks it in a little, moistens it, before his eyes flick back up to Ilya's caught.
"You think I would have problem with you liking a new thing?"
Shane's eyes flick away.
"... 's gross."
"My tongue, your asshole. we have done this. many times."
Shane scowls.
"Yeah, After I wash absolutely everything."
Ilya shakes his head.
"only because you only let me do this when we are in your house, mr real estate. I would do this after a game in boston, too. If-"
and ilya had to cut off, and close his eye, and be very still, as his body tried so hard to make him push, and he wouldn't he wouldn't do that, couldn't- he feels himself open, involuntarily, and he doesn't know what noise he's making, wants to hold his ass with his other hand, like maybe he can keep it in that way, but he doesn't wanna bend at all and he knows he's making noise, he's breathing short and shrap and it's a good thing he gave up hiding this, because he wouldn't be able to hide this, shane would have known-
the cramp eases, and Ilya is just barely able to clench down and close up, without leaving anything in his underwear.
well, except for piss, because he can feel a tiny trickle down his leg and oh god he hopes shane is really into this because-
Shane has a wet spot too.
Shane is clearly so so hard in his little shorts, so hard he has a wet spot (obviously smaller than Ilya's but still).
Ilya goes for cool an in control again, ignoring what just happened.
"So, what you like? You want me to piss on you, or?"
Shane's eyes go wide.
"No! ... well. uh. maybe, but no. um."
Fuck fuck Ilya wants to revel in the moment but there's no time his body doesn't have space for everything it tries to contain-
"Say it quick, Shane, is- ah- is not much time I can..."
Shane squares his shoulders, and ilya feels almost more fond than urgent.
"... It's, uh, it's they way you. um. Struggle?"
Oh! Oh this Ilya understands.
"Yes?"
"Uh, that you, um, that you are trying really hard, but you can't help, um..." and shane gestures to Ilya's wet thigh.
"It is just that I must piss? or also that-" ah fuck he had been denying, but, surely it was obvious, so- "Hah, that I need to shit, too?"
Shane is so red, maybe the most red Ilya has ever seen him.
"... both."
Ilya smirks, but he can feel the next wave building, he doesn't know if- of course he can hold it, he's not a kid, but-
"What you want me to do with it?"
Shane blinks.
"What?"
Ilya tries again, with increasing urgency.
"What you want me to do? try to get back to cottage? Find bush? can I go, or you want me to wait...?"
Shane Stares, open mouthed.
"choose quick, Hollander, or choice will be gone-"
fuck fuck maybe already too late, the cramp builds, and there's just no space in ilya, and he can't- he can't-
"uh," shane says, "Uh, whatever you are, um, comfortable with-"
"Hollander, fuck, comfortable? What comfortable about- hngggg-"
Ilya can't speak, can't do anything but hold on, can barely breath, feels himself bend a little involuntarily, instinctively trying to relieve the pressure even as he desperately fights not to squeeze out what he doesn't want to squeeze out (but no he fucking wants to is desperate to, has never had to go this bad ever in his life at least when he wasn't sick), and he can't help it, the physics just don't work or something, it starts coming out, slowly, unavoidably, and no amount of panting or- it's poking out, it's coming out-
"Ilya, you're pissing-"
The wave ends, and ilya tries to pull it back in, clench up, but-
He looks at shane, knows his own eyes are too wide.
"I can't- hollander, shane, I-"
"you still have to go?"
did he? his shoe was wet, his leg, he must have peed while- while-
"it's out, shane, I can't-"
-
shane steps closer, worried, trying to ignore how goddamn hard he is, fuck, feels like a firm breeze is gonna do it for him, but Ilya isn't- he isn't smirking anymore, he looks distressed-
"I mean, what's a little piss?" Shane tries to reassure, not like ilya's never done that before, surely. plenty of guys get caught short in uniform in their sport, no big deal (except how fucking hot it was to watch the leg of Ilya's shorts darken, the stream come down, despite how hard ilya was clearly trying not to do it, how tense his arm was where he held himself). He had only pissed some moisture-wicking shorts. "You can still make it back to-"
"No, Shane, Is out, It.. .I..."
What- oh.
oh Fuck
oh oh what the fuck
"Shane, it won't go back. I can't- I can't- "
Oh what the shit that was so hot shane felt dizzy.
"Uh, okay, uh, look we'll just go over there? that bush by the- come on i'll help you, it's okay-"
Shane stepped close, beside and slightly behind ilya, didn't look down, put his hand on one shoulder and took his other arm, ready to support him, didn't look down-
Ilya tensed, started forward with his right foot and froze immediately with a noise-
Shane looked down.
oh shit oh fuck oh god it was- something was-
"Shane, it will come out, Shane I can't- it, more came out when I- ahhh!"
Ilya was telling the truth. even with an ass like his, shane could see the disturbance in the fabric where something and shane knew exactly what was tenting the fabric just a little, a tiny point between the massive globes of Ilya's ass. For it to be visible, fuck there had to be so much and for it to be there Ilya had to be.
"Is it still, um, in you? are you-"
Ilya nods, furiously.
"So much, i cannot- I am, ah , ah, holding it, ah, there. if I move, i think it will- I will shit myself, shane"
"... you kind of already have, ilya."
Ilya made a desperate, tortured little noise, not that different from the one he made the other day when he went bare with shane for the first time and almost came too soon, and the sound of ilya barely holding onto his oragsm was so hot to shane that Shane did come too quick, and Ilya followed right behind-
Oh god. Shane was gonna come in his shorts, right here, while his boyfriend was about to shit himself.
"What do... Do you want me to carry you?" Shane shifts back in front of him a little, trying to see his face-
Ilya is shaking his head, but he has a death grip on shane's arm, and his hand is wet, oh hell he grabbed shane with the hand he pissed on-
Ilya looks him in the eyes, and Shane has never seen Ilya look like this, eyes so wide and vulnerable and desperate, tears at the corners, face open and seeking and-
"Shane, I'm gonna, Shane I can't make it, I- It's going to- uhhhng-!"
And Clearly involuntarily ilya closes his eyes and his face goes red and he cries out as he bends forward and his head hits shane's shoulder and his knees come forward as he bends-
and Shane's vision goes white and his hearing rings so loud he almost can't hear Ilya oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-
When shane's orgasm ends, and he can pull his hips back from Ilyas thigh (his wet thigh oh fuck), Ilya is leaning into him, arms around him (like maybe he grabbed Shane for support and then left them there), and he's panting a little.
Shane's head is higher than Ilya's. He can see down ilya's back.
well.
"Uh." shane begins, intelligently.
"Don't talk. busy."
Shane pulls a little more of his brain back online.
"uh. busy doing what?"
Ilya sighs into Shane's shoulder.
"Busy pretending this did not just happen."
a moment.
"It sort of did happen though."
"Yes Shane."
"... I could piggyback you home?"
Ilya pulls back, actually looking Shane in the face again.
He's sweaty, and his face is wet and his eyes are red- was he crying? He looks...
"... bush first I think."
fair, he probably wants to dump out his, uh...
"sure yeah, of course. um, i think I have some napkins still that we didn't use at lunch..."
Shane pulls away slowly, in case Ilya was still using him for support, but Ilya lets him go, and Shane steps back, immediately swing his backpack around to the front and-
"Hollander. Did you- you came? just from...?"
Shane looks down at his shorts, still bulging somewhat over his slowly softening dick.
a massive damp area stretched across the front, and , indeed, he came so hard, and with so little, uh, material in the area, that several streamers of white streak downward from the mess, to drip onto the dirt.
"Uh. ... yeah."
Ilya's face creases with delight, and Shane figures the chirping will be worth it, considering Ilya looks much less miserable.
"Shane! no one touched you, no one even fucked you but still!"
Shane shrugs one shoulder and settles his bag, looking down into it to hide his face a little.
"Not true, actually."
"what? A ghost come up and-"
"You. uh. Your knee. When you, uhm, when you uh lost it, you brought your knee forward and your thigh kind of- I was close, um, so yeah."
Shane peeks up, and Ilya is staring at him.
"What?"
Ilya shakes his head.
"If I was not disgusting, I would fuck you right here."
whens the last time you pooped your pants on purpose and/or on accident?
I don't enjoy messing much tbh but my boyfriend pushed me past my limit a few weeks ago and I ended up shitting myself. I was made to hold it and I honestly thought I had a little longer but then it all just came sliding out
idea i don't know if I've seen before, someone in the line to the bathroom or something, and despite trying so hard to hold it, wetting themselves before they get to use the toilet, and everyone thinks they've gotten their relief now and can leave, maybe a friend or partner is actively trying to get them going home now, and the person now has to admit they ALSO needed to go number two, and still do, VERY badly
Omg that's sooo good. I love scenarios where other characters comment on someone's desperation/relief, and I also love it when a character has to admit they still need to go.
the best thing is when someone needs to go both 1 AND 2, and getting so desperate their body decides they can only hold in one at a time, not both, they try to hold their poop, and their pee is dribbling out, they try to hold their pee, and now they're turtle heading, they can either pour all their attention into keeping one exit shut, and accept that the other will be uncontrollably releasing into their pants, or try their best to alternate between the two and just slowly have an accident
or secret third option, give in entirely and let it all loose
Yesss, that's so good. Combined desperation is the best. Maybe they get to a spot where they're able to pee, or they find a bottle or something to pee into, but the act of relaxing enough to pee brings them dangerously close to pooping as well so they have to slowly and agonizingly let out tiny spurts to avoid messing themselves.
I was just in a meeting at work for two hours while holding back two full days of shit, and barely made it to the ladies. I was on the toilet before I even shut the door, a giant anaconda shit stretched my asshole to its absolute limit and I swear I had an out of body experience as it was emerging. When it splashed into the bowl (hitting my ass with water) I nearly wept. My booty hurts now but the relief was orgasmic. I wanted a big hard cock in my cunt right then and there.
I'm sure that felt soooo good. I bet it was hard to pay attention during the meeting! Were you afraid it would come out?
