honestly so fucking insane that k1nk shaming is a thing like if no one is fucking being hurt who cares if you think somethings gross just close your eyes and block on god
as ive talked abt on this blog recently as well a lot of k1nks are developed in like early childhood its not somethinh we can like control and as ive also talked abt on this blog before people get like legit mental anguish and therapy over k1nks that are completely fucking harmless just because of the shame and culture surrounding it if you k1nkshame legit fuck you
im not talking abt like jokes jokes r fine if they dont go to far i joke abt my own k1nks just be nice i mean like legit hateposting abt k1nks
smoking weed really loosens up my guts,, i just want to be in someone’s lap, taking bong hits, ripping progressively wetter and louder and beefier farts as i keep smoking bowls. until i cant help but grunt and rub my ass against their lap as its a particularly rough hit and i cant help but rip wet sharts until liquid shit starts to seep through my pants onto the other person <3 -🐾
this having me drooling. fuuckkk having you on my lap.. watching your eyes glaze over as i bounce you on my knee and u blast out fart after fart without a care in the world - high as a kite. the gas getting wetter n wetter.... patch in the back of ur pants growing dark damp n sweaty before a massive sharts start bubbling out your hole and into your underwear. rocking you in my lap as shit burbles up the hem of your bottoms and into my lap. uh huh
I'm new to ur page idk if this is done but I...I want Joel to piss inside a plushie....
Puddles - a Plushies x PK drabble
Notes: I've been waiting to write this one so here we go! Can read more plushies!Joel through Plushies Series masterlist, though they can all be read as standalone fics
Warnings: Pisskink!Joel, piss kink, Drunk!Joel, solo masturbation with a stuffed animal, yes he is pissing inside poor plushie, plushie fucking briefly
18+ ONLY
- - - -
He may have gone a little bit overboard when Tommy invited him for the crew’s so-called ‘happy hour get together’. He knew they all liked to go out and celebrate with a few drinks after completing a project, and this last one they just wrapped up for some posh client with outrageous requests was no different.
Joel usually liked to skip out on them. First, because he didn’t want to know what these clowns might be up to when they get tipsy, letting whatever sober-less things go on follow his mind to the next job site. But also because he’s getting too old for that college level shit. Hangovers aren’t nearly as fun when you’re pushing well past middle age.
But, he didn’t want to be home alone since you were going to be working late.
So, two beers turned into twelve and a few more various alcohol spiked beverages here and there, and boom. Joel’s swaying side to side along the sidewalk with Tommy guiding him all the way up the front door.
“You sure you don’t need me, brother?” Tommy asks hesitantly.
Joel, with lolling eyes and a grin, confidently waves him off after successfully entering his key into the door after 6 tries.
He stumbles through into the dark alone, and the first thing that hit him is how badly he wants to curl up on your plushie filled bed. He thought about you all night; your shampoo filling his nose when you cuddle him, the smooth streak of your naked back when you finish a shower, the wet indulgence of your pussy when he eats you out.
He’s never going to admit it, but the man is clingy as shit when you’re around. And he’s craving some much needed plushie pussy time.
Shit, the alcohol is really swimming in his brain.
And, he realizes, with a firm and shiver-some squeeze to his crotch, elsewhere in his body.
Ironically, the bathroom is not what beckons him.
With a devious smirk, he instead tumbles into the bedroom. Through the moonlit drapes, a wave of beady eyed babies stare back at him.
“Hello freaks,” he chuckles. They probably miss you too. Honestly it’s really rude, if you think about it, the way you abandon your buddies here AND Joel all in one night? Atrocious behavior. Someone ought to teach you better.
“Daddy’s home."
He falls forward, his knees catching the edge of the bed. An array of colorful volunteers practically jumping up and down at his presence to be engulfed by the precious aroma of Joel Miller.
That’s how drunk-Joel is seeing it. In reality, if they could run for their fluffy lives, they would.
A quick hand snatches one yellow blob by its neck. His eyes struggle to get a clear picture—whether from the alcoholic haze or the darkness obscuring his vision. Possibly both. The dark bill and flappy arms come into focus.
“Duck,” he muses to himself. “Bet ya name is Duckie, some shit like that. She ain't good with the namein.” He rolls the unfortunate one over to its back, inspecting its caliber. Its definitely older: matted fur smushed down in certain areas, lack of vibrant coloring, some faded and torn edged fabric on its bow tie. Bitty holes sewn up here and there with mismatched (and poorly seemed) threaded needle. Your college waitressing job used to be for a place called the Quavern, so this little guy’s gotta be your graduation farewell from that team.
“Well mister Quakers. You n' me gonna get to know each other real well right now. Got something I need ya to hold f’me,” Joel slurs. One hand frees the button of his jeans while the other begins to prod at a loose tear in poor DuckDuck’s underside. He pokes and prods and scissors a little too harshly with his sausage fingers before a tell-tale rip echoes in the room. “Oops,” he chuckles with very little guilt as he forces the hole a bit wider and palms his crotch a bit harder.
Yeah, he gets hard when touching your stuffed animals. He can’t help it! With all the naughty activities you do with them, they’re practically hug buddies by day, sex toy by night. His mind feels foggy, but the building sensation along his lower stomach is the only thing churning his actions. With a few lazy pumps, Joel slots his mushroom tip at the cottony hole he’s made in the poor plush. He pushes through, groaning with his head tossed slightly back as dry softness envelops his pulsing length.
“Shit—that’s it. Take it little guy.” He bites his lips and peers below, watching his dick penetrate the stuffed animal.
He knows he should put it down, sew it up, put it back, and go do his business in the bathroom like a good, well trained boyfriend. But then again, he knows how fucking pissed you’ll be if he defiles your plushies again. Then you’ll never leave him unattended at home, and that means more pussy drinking and rubbing on these fuckers for him.
Joel doesn’t even realize he’s pissing inside the poor animal until it starts to sag heavily with the weight and wetness coating his hand. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh,” he gasps with furrowed brows. As his bladder empties, the duck grows damper and darker, the fur and cotton soaking it up from the inside out until it’s dripping down his ballsack. He thrusts inside a few times, the warm wet sensation making him choke out a curse. It’s not quite like your pussy, but the heat is better than nothing. He pushes it flush against his pubic bone, another rush of liquid hissing through and muffled by Mr Quack’s soft innards.
If he wasn’t so fucking wasted right now, he’d fuck it into oblivion. give it the good ol'Miller beating. Fertilize its eggs, if you will. But with his bathroom situation now relieved, Joel yanks the thing off and chucks it to the ground. His brain collapses just as he falls towards the bed, drowning in his own much needed slumber.
-
you shake your head and laugh, hands on your hips at the sight in front of you.
Joel’s out cold face forward in your bed. His jeans are loosely wrapped around his hips and his old tee still on, so if it wasn’t for his loud snoring, you’d assume the man was dead. He hadn’t even made it fully on the bed, his tip toes still holding him up on the floor and legs dangling at an angle.
A few of your stuffed animals had managed to crawl out from underneath him, scattered around when he most likely dropped onto the bed. You pick them up one by one: dusty Carly the Crow, the now famed Mr Oinkers (with battery pack turned OFF), Whiskers the Cat, and poor old Puddles the Duc—
Your disgusted screech has Joel sitting up so fast he nearly capsizes off the bed. The confused, hungover lump is met with his bewildered and screaming girlfriend who’s yanking him by the neck and wringing him viciously with as much might as you can muster.
“STOP—FUCKING—PISSING—IN—MY—PLUSHIES!” You roar with wild eyes and gritted teeth, choking him within an inch of his life. You shake his neck up and down like you’re going to hammer his head into the bed post.
It takes him a moment, with wide eyes and hands wrapped around your wrists, before his gaze lands on the poorly discarded evidence of last night: a very overly yellow duck soaking into the floor boards in a puddle of liquid gold.
Sophia walked into her biology class, a slight unease gnawing at her stomach. She had felt off since breakfast, and now the discomfort was growing. As she took her seat near the back of the room, she hoped the feeling would pass. Her stomach gurgled ominously, and she pressed a hand to her abdomen, willing it to settle.
The class began, and the teacher launched into a lecture about cellular respiration. Sophia tried to focus, taking diligent notes, but her stomach had other plans. A sharp cramp made her wince, and she felt a bubble of gas pushing its way through her intestines. She shifted in her seat, clenching her muscles tightly.
Despite her best efforts, a small, silent fart escaped. She felt a brief, warm sensation against her panties, followed by a wave of relief. No one seemed to notice, and she relaxed a little. However, the pressure in her stomach continued to build. She released another silent fart, then another, each one easing the discomfort slightly but not enough to make it go away.
As the lecture went on, Sophia’s situation grew more desperate. Her stomach churned, and she could feel more gas building up. She glanced around the room, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the thought of what was happening. The occasional whiff of something unpleasant reached her nose, but she hoped it was subtle enough to go unnoticed by her classmates.
Another cramp hit her, more intense this time. She bit her lip, her body tensing as she tried to hold it in. But the pressure was too much. With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, she felt her control slipping. A warm, wet sensation spread through her panties as she released another burst of gas, this time accompanied by a small amount of liquid. She froze, her heart pounding with humiliation.
The relief was immediate and intense. The pressure in her abdomen eased slightly, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pleasure. The warmth and wetness were oddly soothing, and the release brought a momentary reprieve from the pain.
Sophia’s mind raced as she tried to process what was happening. She knew she should be mortified, but the physical relief and unexpected pleasure were hard to ignore. She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the mess spread and the warmth increase. The sensation was both uncomfortable and oddly enjoyable.
As the class continued, Sophia found herself unable to stop. The pressure would build, she would release another burst of gas and liquid, and the cycle would repeat. Each time, the relief was immediate and satisfying. The mess in her panties grew, spreading through her skirt and onto the seat beneath her. She could feel it seeping through the fabric, the warmth and wetness a constant reminder of what was happening.
By the end of the class, Sophia’s stomach was finally starting to settle. She had spent the entire period discreetly pooping her pants, and the relief was undeniable. The initial embarrassment had given way to a strange sense of acceptance, even enjoyment. The warmth and wetness were oddly comforting, and the physical pleasure of the release was hard to deny.
As the bell rang and her classmates began to gather their things, Sophia remained seated for a moment, taking in the sensations. She felt a mix of shame and satisfaction, her body relaxed and her mind buzzing with conflicting emotions. She stood up carefully, feeling the mess shift and spread even more. The warmth was still there, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment.
Sophia left the classroom, her steps slow and deliberate. She could feel the mess with every movement, a constant reminder of what had happened. And despite the embarrassment, she found herself strangely okay with it. The physical relief and unexpected pleasure had left her with a new perspective on her body’s needs and sensations.
As she made her way to the bathroom to clean up, Sophia reflected on the experience. It was something she would never have chosen, but now that it had happened, she couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction it had brought. She smiled to herself, a small, secret smile, and knew that she had discovered something new about herself that day.
Claire had been excited for this date night for weeks. She and her boyfriend, Mike, had finally managed to carve out some time to see a new blockbuster movie in theaters. The movie had been fantastic so far, and she loved the feeling of sitting on Mike’s lap, his arms wrapped around her protectively.
As the film progressed, Claire felt a growing pressure in her stomach. She had eaten a heavy meal earlier, and now she was starting to regret it. The urge to fart was becoming more insistent, but she was too shy to ask Mike to let her up. She hoped she could hold out until the end of the movie.
Trying to ease the pressure without making a scene, Claire shifted slightly in Mike’s lap. She clenched her muscles, hoping to silently release some gas without him noticing. To her relief, the first few farts were silent, and Mike didn’t react. She felt a slight warmth against her underwear, but no more than that.
However, the pressure was building faster than she could handle. She squeezed tighter, feeling the sweat on her forehead as she focused on keeping control. But despite her best efforts, her body had other plans. She felt a sudden, uncontrollable spasm in her stomach, and before she could stop it, a warm, wet sensation spread across her bottom.
Claire’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what had just happened. She had released a bout of diarrhea directly onto Mike’s lap. Her face turned beet red, and she felt a wave of mortification wash over her. She could hardly bring herself to look at him, terrified of his reaction.
Mike had been having a great time with Claire. He loved how she felt in his lap, her presence a comforting weight as they watched the movie. Her occasional squirms were endearing, and he enjoyed the closeness.
He had noticed Claire shifting more than usual and felt a slight warmth occasionally, but he chalked it up to her trying to get comfortable. When the first silent fart reached his nose, he realized what was happening. Far from being disgusted, he found it oddly arousing. The intimacy of the situation, her trust in him, and the naturalness of it all stirred something deep within him.
Then it happened. He felt a sudden warmth spread rapidly across his lap, soaking through his jeans. He realized Claire had lost control and released diarrhea. He could feel her body tense with embarrassment, her face hidden from view.
Instead of reacting with disgust, Mike tightened his arms around her, holding her closer. He could tell how mortified she was and wanted to reassure her. Whispering gently into her ear, he said, “It’s okay, Claire. I’ve got you.”
Feeling his embrace, Claire slowly turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide with shame and fear. But Mike’s calm, reassuring smile eased her anxiety. “Really, it’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m not upset. Let’s just get through this together.”
Mike could feel his own arousal growing, the taboo nature of the situation intensifying his feelings. He could see Claire start to relax a little, her trust in him evident. They stayed like that for a few more minutes, Mike gently stroking her back, before he whispered, “Let’s go get cleaned up.”
They quietly left the theater, Mike holding Claire’s hand reassuringly. Once outside, he led her to the car, still smiling warmly at her. As they drove home, Mike could sense that Claire was starting to feel a bit better, though still embarrassed.
Later, after they had both cleaned up, Mike held Claire close and reassured her once more. They talked about what had happened, and Claire was amazed at how understanding and supportive Mike was. It deepened their bond, bringing them even closer together. In the end, what could have been a humiliating disaster became an experience that strengthened their relationship, making them appreciate the trust and intimacy they shared.
John woke up with a sharp stomach ache and an unmistakable morning wood. Groggily, he rolled over, the discomfort in his gut making it hard to find a comfortable position. The pressure was building, and he let out a series of deep, rumbling farts that brought a momentary relief.
As he lay there, half-awake, he started to feel the conflicting sensations in his body. The ache in his stomach persisted, but the firmness of his erection was impossible to ignore. Shifting slightly, he pressed his pelvis against the mattress, seeking some form of release.
The pressure of the mattress against his lower body intensified the sensations. Each subtle grind pushed out more farts, the vibrations adding to his strange sense of pleasure. The warmth of the sheets and the friction against his boxers heightened his arousal, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
John debated with himself, feeling the growing need to use the bathroom but also the undeniable pleasure of his movements. He pushed harder against the mattress, the combination of relief from the gas and the stimulation of his erection blending into an overwhelming mix of sensations.
As he continued to grind, the pressure in his stomach became unbearable. His body tensed, and he felt his control slipping. With a final, desperate push, he felt a sudden, warm release as his bowels emptied into his boxers. The sensation of the warm mess spreading was unexpectedly pleasurable, amplifying the intensity of his arousal.
John moaned softly, the combination of relief and pleasure too much to handle. His grinding became more fervent, the mess in his pants adding to the friction. He could feel the climax building, each movement bringing him closer. Finally, with a shudder and a deep, guttural moan, he came, the wetness spreading through his boxers as he released.
For a moment, he lay there, breathing heavily, the afterglow of his orgasm mixing with the mess and the lingering relief in his stomach. It was an odd, confusing experience, but one that left him strangely satisfied.
As the reality of the situation sank in, John got up to clean himself, feeling a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. It was an intense, unexpected start to the day, one that left him pondering the complexities of his own body and desires.
Tom had been looking forward to this gaming session all week. With snacks and drinks within arm’s reach, he settled into his well-worn gaming chair, ready to immerse himself in his favorite online multiplayer game. The hours flew by as he teamed up with friends, battling through levels and collecting rare items.
As the clock ticked past midnight, Tom felt a familiar pressure building in his stomach. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, letting out a loud, nasty fart. The smell quickly filled the small room, but Tom barely noticed. His attention was glued to the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard and mouse.
Minutes turned into hours, and the pressure in Tom’s gut grew more insistent. He knew he needed to take a bathroom break, but his team was in the middle of a crucial raid. Leaving now could mean the difference between victory and defeat. He clenched his teeth and tried to focus, hoping he could hold on a bit longer.
But nature had other plans. Another fart escaped, wetter and more urgent than the last. Tom winced, feeling the telltale signs of an impending accident. He whined softly, torn between his bodily needs and his determination to stay in the game. The pressure became unbearable, and despite his best efforts, he felt his body give in.
With a moan of frustration and discomfort, Tom’s bowels released into his pants. The warm, sticky mess spread quickly, soaking into the fabric of his shorts and the cushion of his chair. He groaned loudly, overwhelmed by the sensation and the sheer humiliation of what was happening.
The game continued in the background, his character momentarily forgotten. Tom shifted uncomfortably, the reality of his situation sinking in. The once-exhilarating gaming session was now overshadowed by the unpleasantness of his predicament. He felt a mix of shame and resignation, knowing he had pushed his limits too far.
Finally, he reached for the keyboard and typed a quick message to his team, explaining he needed to step away. As he stood, the mess in his pants squished unpleasantly, and he grimaced. Tom shuffled to the bathroom, each step a reminder of his stubborn refusal to pause the game.
Cleaning up took time and effort, but as he returned to his gaming chair, freshly showered and in clean clothes, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself. It was a hard lesson learned, but one he knew he’d never forget. From that day forward, Tom made sure to prioritize his basic needs, even during the most intense gaming sessions.
Kevin had always been a creature of habit, finding comfort in his weekly trips to the local grocery store. Each Saturday morning, he navigated the aisles with precision, his list tucked neatly in his back pocket. This particular Saturday, however, something was different.
As he reached for a can of soup on the top shelf, Kevin felt an uncomfortable rumble in his stomach. He paused, clutching the cart, and hoped it was just a bit of indigestion. But before he could react, his body betrayed him. A sudden, uncontrollable pressure surged through him, and to his horror, he felt his pants grow warm and damp.
Kevin froze, his mind racing with panic and embarrassment. He glanced around, praying no one had noticed. But instead of feeling mortified, a peculiar sensation washed over him. The initial shock was quickly replaced by an unexpected wave of comfort. The warmth, though undeniably strange, had a soothing effect.
Trying to maintain his composure, Kevin pushed his cart to a quieter aisle. As he walked, he found himself oddly at ease, even slightly exhilarated. The embarrassment he’d anticipated was overshadowed by this newfound, bizarre sense of pleasure.
Reaching the cleaning supplies section, Kevin grabbed a pack of wipes and a bottle of air freshener. He chuckled to himself, marveling at how his routine had taken such an unexpected turn. He felt a mix of liberation and confusion, realizing that, while he’d never have chosen this situation, he wasn’t as repulsed as he thought he should be.
With his supplies in hand, Kevin made his way to the bathroom to clean up. As he did, he pondered this strange discovery. Life was full of surprises, he mused, and sometimes the most unexpected experiences could bring a surprising amount of joy.
From that day forward, Kevin’s weekly grocery trips held a new, secret anticipation. Though he never intentionally repeated the incident, the memory of that Saturday remained a curious reminder of the complexities of human sensations and the unexpected ways they could bring contentment.
Imagine being out on errands or a run, and going over to someone's house for a few minutes, asking to use their bathroom, only to relieve yourself somewhere like the floor/table/bed
that would be so hot.
maybe i’m desperate, they tell me where the bathroom is but i somehow get lost and make my way into their bedroom. damn it. i have to go so bad i might go in my pants. a fart bursts desperately out of me and lets out some dribbles with it. i’m not gonna make it, so i push my way into their closet and shut the door, pulling down my pants and spraying my piss everywhere- i cant even control it, it makes a dark puddle on the carpet, sprays on the door, and hits some of the shoes and clothes. it feels so good to make such a mess. i finish peeing and fart loudly, grunting and pushing out big logs onto their floor, moving around so they’re everywhere. i finally finish with another burst of gas and leave the closet- before i exit the bedroom i’m about to pull up my pants, before i realize i’m not quite finished. i bend over and push out one more on their bedroom floor, a small piss puddle with it, and finally exit casually. no wiping necessary.
or intentionally. the person let’s me in and tells me to use any restroom, as if i know. i shrug it off, i hardly understand toilets. i walk into their living room and glance around, before pulling my pants to my ankles and taking a seat on their couch. my piss dribbles out of me easily as i watch what they’ve left on tv, soaking the coach. i fart a few times before my body is ready to poop. it’s disgusting. it comes out of me difficultly, i have to lift my leg up. it’s mushy and almost painful, but feels so good to me. i grunt and whine loudly as i unload on this persons couch, biting my lips before finally giving in and touching myself. i’ve finished pooping, but i hardly noticed as i bring myself to an overwhelming orgasm on this strangers couch. i don’t wipe before i pull up my pants, i brush off my mess and leave wordlessly.
