Kev!

He/She/Xe - 19!! I have a piss AND scat kink.

[problematickinker]

I do realize now that I never introduced myself!

Hi, I’m Kev! No, it’s not short for Kevin or anything, it’s just Kev. I use he/him, she/her, and xe/xem pronouns interchangeably. I’m bi-gender and genderfluid, as well as pansexual.

I likely won’t make many posts, but I reblog absolutely everything that aligns with what I love!

Some of my kinks are:

-piss/omorashi

-scat

-diaper messing

-pet play (sort of, only in certain situations)

I’m nineteen years old, and due to my kinks, absolutely NO MINORS are allowed on my page.

I don’t kink shame. Be as free and disgusting as you want.

edit: I do NOT wear diapers myself nor do I wish to indulge in any roleplay in messages!! I am not good at socialization, please do not message me. People scare me. I am not padded and I will not be pissing myself for you. I am just a silly, dumb puppy who does not wanna message you!! No matter what i reblog, I do not want messages!! Thank you!

[outhousekeeper00]

Something about diapers, diarrhea, and desperation…

It does something for me

[pokechampash]

A Old Friend

TW: Scat, Soiling, Sharts, detailed description of farts and poop, don't like it? Scroll

Tony was what most people would call a “dilf”, he's 37 with a nice beard and a handsome face., he's got a tight ass and nice defined abs and is generally hairy, all though he's not the dominant type and can be quite shy at times, today was a special day for him whoever as he was meeting up with an old friend that he hadn't seen since his high school graduation, his name being Derek, they were friends from freshman to senior year but had to part way due to their lives after high school, but now that things have settled down they both made time to meet up and reconnect, but first Tony had to have his usual cup of morning joe.

“Here for the usual Tony?” The barista said with a smile, Tony was a daily customer to his local Starbucks so most of the employees knew his order by heart, he was lactose intolerant so he likes to avoid dairy at all costs.

“Yeah thanks man, just needed some energy, got a long day ahead of me” Tony said with a small chuckle as he paid for his drink and sat until his name was called, what he didn't realize was that someone had accidentally gotten his drink, meaning he ended up grabbing the other person's drink, which contains a lot of milk.

‘This tastes different, a new recipe maybe?’ Tony thought as he walked to the park to wait for Derek. He felt a rumble in his stomach but ignored it and smiled as he saw Derek racing towards him.

“Tony! What's up my man!” Derek exclaimed excitedly as he rushed over to Tony and gave him a bear hug.

“Nothing much man just been chilling, damn dude you got huge!” Tony said impressed as he gave Derek’s gigantic pecs a firm squeeze.

“Well after high school I started hitting the gym more so I ended up gaining some massive muscles, impressive right?” Derek said as he proudly started flexing and showing off his muscles.

“Happy for ya bro, I'm still the biggest out us two though” Tony said with a smirk as he slapped Derek’s back, Derek chuckled and retorted by playfully punching Tony in the stomach, causing Tony’s stomach to rumble loudly, Tony felt a bit off but shook it off.

“Bro we gotta get burritos like the old days!” Derek said enthusiastically, Tony grimaced at the thought of burritos but also didn't wanna say no to his old pal so he slowly nodded, somehow finding himself in a small sit down restaurant.

“Man, I remember the times when we had our little eating contests. Those were fun! Even though they always ended up with one of us sharting haha.” Derek said laughing, Tony nervously laughed as he held his gurgling stomach under the table. The thought alone almost made him shit his pants right then and there.

“Remember that time you ate so many burritos you clogged the toilet and almost flooded the place?” Derek said with a wink.

“I'd rather forget about that…” Tony said embarrassed as he let out a silent fart, it was a really musky fart however. The two had finally gotten their burritos and started to chow down, Tony was eating slowly so as to not upset his stomach even more, Derek noticed this and smirked.

“What's wrong bro? Has your stomach gotten weak after all these years?” Derek said with a hint of coldness in his voice.

“What? Of course not, if anything it's gotten stronger” Tony said raising his brow a bit.

“Then you wouldn't mind eating all of our burritos then right” Derek said with a smirk.

“Fine by me” Tony said, letting out a sloppy fart, he was determined to prove Derek wrong by all costs! He started chowing down on the burritos one by one. His already aching stomach was now gurgling violently and he had started letting out a few wet farts every few burritos. Derek just watched and enjoyed the show! Tony started to really regret accepting Derek's challenge as he got to the last two burritos.

“Come dude you only have two left! Might as well finish off strong” Derek said smiling with a playful yet encouraging tone, Tony reluctantly forced the last burritos down and smirked at Derek in victory as he suddenly farted loud and stinky again, leaving a toxic odor in the air.

“Did you know when someone’s farts smell this bad that means they're close to shitting?” Derek said with a chuckle, Tony rolled his eyes.

“Did you know this?” Tony asked as he bent over a bit and let out a huge booming fart right in front of Tony's face!

“Well since you're so confident you can fart without shitting, I dare you to do thirty squats right now!” Derek smirked, he knew squats was one of Tony’s weaknesses.

“You're on lover boy” Tony said trying to look calm despite the sweat that was running down his face, he took his position and started slowly, he farted each time his butt was down near the floor, soon the whole area smelled like fresh shit due to his farts and people started to get uncomfortable.

“You'd think someone his age would have better control of their bowels!

“God it smells like something died over there!”

“That's what you get for ordering the double stuffed beef bean cheese burrito bro”

“Why is he squatting while he's literally shitting his underpants? I can see the stain!”

Derek couldn't help but laugh as Tony slowly squatted and farted, he was was one his final squat when he lowered himself and his butt was near the floor it happened

PPPPPPFFFFFTTTTTTT

“Wow bro how nasty of you” Derek said in a playful tone, Tony had fully shat himself, the liquid diarrhea was starting to leak out of his shorts as well.

“Well you know me homie, I'm a dirty guy sometimes” Tony said shaking his shitty bulge another causing more diarrhea to fall.

“Haha you haven't changed a bit Tony. We should do this more often” Derek said. He walked over and slipped Tony his number and gave him a peck on the cheek. While Tony got flushed from that little kiss, Derek winked and walked out, leaving DILF with his shitty shorts in the restaurant, while the other people around him started to gag at the smell and sight.

[pokechampash]

A Old Friend

TW: Scat, Soiling, Sharts, detailed description of farts and poop, don't like it? Scroll

Tony was what most people would call a “dilf”, he's 37 with a nice beard and a handsome face., he's got a tight ass and nice defined abs and is generally hairy, all though he's not the dominant type and can be quite shy at times, today was a special day for him whoever as he was meeting up with an old friend that he hadn't seen since his high school graduation, his name being Derek, they were friends from freshman to senior year but had to part way due to their lives after high school, but now that things have settled down they both made time to meet up and reconnect, but first Tony had to have his usual cup of morning joe.

“Here for the usual Tony?” The barista said with a smile, Tony was a daily customer to his local Starbucks so most of the employees knew his order by heart, he was lactose intolerant so he likes to avoid dairy at all costs.

“Yeah thanks man, just needed some energy, got a long day ahead of me” Tony said with a small chuckle as he paid for his drink and sat until his name was called, what he didn't realize was that someone had accidentally gotten his drink, meaning he ended up grabbing the other person's drink, which contains a lot of milk.

‘This tastes different, a new recipe maybe?’ Tony thought as he walked to the park to wait for Derek. He felt a rumble in his stomach but ignored it and smiled as he saw Derek racing towards him.

“Tony! What's up my man!” Derek exclaimed excitedly as he rushed over to Tony and gave him a bear hug.

“Nothing much man just been chilling, damn dude you got huge!” Tony said impressed as he gave Derek’s gigantic pecs a firm squeeze.

“Well after high school I started hitting the gym more so I ended up gaining some massive muscles, impressive right?” Derek said as he proudly started flexing and showing off his muscles.

“Happy for ya bro, I'm still the biggest out us two though” Tony said with a smirk as he slapped Derek’s back, Derek chuckled and retorted by playfully punching Tony in the stomach, causing Tony’s stomach to rumble loudly, Tony felt a bit off but shook it off.

“Bro we gotta get burritos like the old days!” Derek said enthusiastically, Tony grimaced at the thought of burritos but also didn't wanna say no to his old pal so he slowly nodded, somehow finding himself in a small sit down restaurant.

“Man, I remember the times when we had our little eating contests. Those were fun! Even though they always ended up with one of us sharting haha.” Derek said laughing, Tony nervously laughed as he held his gurgling stomach under the table. The thought alone almost made him shit his pants right then and there.

“Remember that time you ate so many burritos you clogged the toilet and almost flooded the place?” Derek said with a wink.

“I'd rather forget about that…” Tony said embarrassed as he let out a silent fart, it was a really musky fart however. The two had finally gotten their burritos and started to chow down, Tony was eating slowly so as to not upset his stomach even more, Derek noticed this and smirked.

“What's wrong bro? Has your stomach gotten weak after all these years?” Derek said with a hint of coldness in his voice.

“What? Of course not, if anything it's gotten stronger” Tony said raising his brow a bit.

“Then you wouldn't mind eating all of our burritos then right” Derek said with a smirk.

“Fine by me” Tony said, letting out a sloppy fart, he was determined to prove Derek wrong by all costs! He started chowing down on the burritos one by one. His already aching stomach was now gurgling violently and he had started letting out a few wet farts every few burritos. Derek just watched and enjoyed the show! Tony started to really regret accepting Derek's challenge as he got to the last two burritos.

“Come dude you only have two left! Might as well finish off strong” Derek said smiling with a playful yet encouraging tone, Tony reluctantly forced the last burritos down and smirked at Derek in victory as he suddenly farted loud and stinky again, leaving a toxic odor in the air.

“Did you know when someone’s farts smell this bad that means they're close to shitting?” Derek said with a chuckle, Tony rolled his eyes.

“Did you know this?” Tony asked as he bent over a bit and let out a huge booming fart right in front of Tony's face!

“Well since you're so confident you can fart without shitting, I dare you to do thirty squats right now!” Derek smirked, he knew squats was one of Tony’s weaknesses.

“You're on lover boy” Tony said trying to look calm despite the sweat that was running down his face, he took his position and started slowly, he farted each time his butt was down near the floor, soon the whole area smelled like fresh shit due to his farts and people started to get uncomfortable.

“You'd think someone his age would have better control of their bowels!

“God it smells like something died over there!”

“That's what you get for ordering the double stuffed beef bean cheese burrito bro”

“Why is he squatting while he's literally shitting his underpants? I can see the stain!”

Derek couldn't help but laugh as Tony slowly squatted and farted, he was was one his final squat when he lowered himself and his butt was near the floor it happened

PPPPPPFFFFFTTTTTTT

“Wow bro how nasty of you” Derek said in a playful tone, Tony had fully shat himself, the liquid diarrhea was starting to leak out of his shorts as well.

“Well you know me homie, I'm a dirty guy sometimes” Tony said shaking his shitty bulge another causing more diarrhea to fall.

“Haha you haven't changed a bit Tony. We should do this more often” Derek said. He walked over and slipped Tony his number and gave him a peck on the cheek. While Tony got flushed from that little kiss, Derek winked and walked out, leaving DILF with his shitty shorts in the restaurant, while the other people around him started to gag at the smell and sight.

[igottadoodoo743]

Belly of the Dad

"Dad, you’ve *got* to be kidding me," I groaned, staring at the alarm clock as it blared its tinny, relentless beep. "It’s Saturday. Why the hell is this thing even set?"

No answer. The other side of the bed was empty—just a dent in the mattress and the faint smell of Old Spice lingering in the air. I rolled over, intending to smash the alarm into silence, and froze mid-swing. My arm wasn’t mine.

It wasn’t just the arm. The whole damn body was wrong. The thick, hairy forearm dangling over the edge of the bed belonged to Jerome McKinley—my father. I bolted upright, and the movement sent a deep, resonant gurgle rolling through my gut. The sound was so visceral I clapped a hand over my stomach—his stomach—and felt the heat of it beneath my palm. The skin was taut, stretched over something brewing deep inside.

I swung my legs—his legs—off the bed and stood, immediately swaying as a wave of dizziness hit me. The room smelled like sweat and chili. A half-empty bowl sat on the nightstand, congealed grease pooling on the surface. My throat burned with the ghost of last night’s dinner. How had I not noticed this before? I ran a hand over my bald head, the unfamiliar texture sending a weird thrill down my spine. Then I pinched the roll of fat spilling over the waistband of my—his—boxer briefs. It jiggled like gelatin.

The silence of the house pressed in around me—no footsteps, no TV blaring sports highlights, not even the hum of the fridge. Just the occasional creak of the floorboards under my bare feet and the low, ominous rumble from my gut. I waddled into the kitchen, my thighs rubbing together in a way that felt foreign and strangely intimate. The fridge door swung open with a groan, revealing a half-empty pot of chili tucked behind a carton of expired milk. The smell hit me first—spicy, meaty, with an undercurrent of something darker. My stomach clenched in response, a wet gurgle bubbling up from deep within.

I didn’t bother with a bowl. Just grabbed a spoon and dug in, shoveling cold chili straight from the pot into my mouth. The grease coated my tongue, thick and slick, and I moaned around the spoon. It was disgusting. It was *amazing*. My free hand drifted down to my belly, kneading the doughy flesh as I ate. The pressure built with every bite, a slow, creeping weight that made my breath hitch. By the time I scraped the last of the chili from the pot, I was sweating, my briefs clinging to my thighs.

The freezer was next. I yanked it open with a grunt, my fingers sinking into the frost-rimmed carton of mint chocolate chip before my brain even registered the movement. The spoon was still slick with chili grease, but I didn’t care—just plunged it into the ice cream and took a heaping bite. Cold exploded across my tongue, sharp and sweet, cutting through the lingering heat of the chili. A shiver ran down my spine, but the contrast only made me hungrier. I leaned against the counter, one hand braced on the Formica, the other working the spoon like a piston. The ice cream melted against my tongue, rich and thick, and I swallowed with a wet, satisfied gasp.

My gut protested almost immediately. A deep, groaning cramp twisted through me, and I doubled over, spoon clattering to the floor. The sound echoed through the empty house, but I barely heard it—my own heartbeat was too loud in my ears. I clutched my belly with both hands, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as another cramp hit, harder this time. A hot, wet bubble of gas fought its way free, popping against the fabric of my briefs with a damp puff. I groaned, straightening just enough to waddle toward the living room, my thighs sticking together with every step.

The bathroom mirror showed me everything—the flushed face, the sheen of sweat on my forehead, the way my belly jutted forward like a overfilled water balloon. I pressed a palm against it, and the flesh yielded with a squelch, sending another cramp rippling through my gut. A sharp, stabbing pain made me grit my teeth, and I braced myself against the sink, knuckles white.

Little sharts escaped in rapid succession, each one hotter and wetter than the last. The fabric of my briefs clung to my skin, damp and sticky. I could *feel* it—the pressure, the inevitability—coiling tighter and tighter inside me. My stomach gurgled like a backed-up drain, and I groaned, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. "Oh god, oh god—"

The cramp hit like a freight train, bending me double with a wet, guttural groan. My knees knocked together as I gripped the sink, fingers slipping on porcelain slick with sweat. A fresh wave of heat surged up my spine, prickling under the thick hair covering my—his—back. The pressure was unbearable now, a molten knot of chili and ice cream churning in my gut, demanding release. I clenched, thighs trembling, but another shart escaped anyway—a hot, sputtering spray that soaked through my briefs and dripped down my leg. The smell hit me a second later, rancid and thick, and I gagged.

"Fuck—fuck *fuck*—" I wheezed, arching my back as another cramp twisted through me. My belly gurgled violently, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. I could *feel* it shifting inside me, a sloshing, liquid weight that sent sweat beading across my forehead. The mirror fogged with my ragged breaths, but I could still see the way my face contorted—jaw clenched, lips peeled back in a grimace. Dad’s face. My face now.

The next cramp hit with such force that my knees buckled—I barely caught myself on the sink’s edge before collapsing. A wet, tearing sound erupted from my backside as the fabric of my briefs strained against the sheer volume forcing its way out. The pressure was volcanic, unstoppable, and with a strangled cry, I gave up fighting it.

Hot, chunky liquid surged out of me in a torrent, flooding my briefs instantly. The sensation was grotesquely relieving—like popping a balloon filled with soup. The fabric sagged under the weight, clinging to my thighs as thick, viscous diarrhea oozed down my legs. The stench was overwhelming, a sour, meaty reek that made my eyes water. I gasped, gripping the sink tighter as another wave crashed through me, this one even thicker, sending globs of half-digested chili splattering against the tile floor.

[igottadoodoo743]

Jerome's Gut Symphony

"You sure you got everything?" Jerome's deep voice rumbled through the hallway as he adjusted the strap of Mom's overnight bag. His massive frame nearly blocked the front door entirely, the afternoon sun casting his shadow across the foyer like a mountain range.

I tightened my grip on my backpack, feeling the outline of my phone press against my spine where the hidden camera app was already running. "Yeah, yeah, we're good," Mom said, swatting at Jerome's hand as he tried to rearrange the scarf around her neck for the third time. "It's two nights at Sandra's, not a Himalayan expedition."

The moment the car tires crunched over the gravel driveway, Jerome's posture collapsed like a deflated balloon. His shoulders sagged, his head lolled back, and—I swear I saw this through the foyer camera—he wiggled his toes inside his socks like a kid tasting freedom. The front door hadn't even clicked shut before his meaty hands were pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a forest of curly black hair matted with sweat.

By the time Mom's sedan turned onto the main road, Jerome was down to his straining white briefs, the elastic digging valleys into his hips. He ambled into the kitchen, humming something tuneless, and opened the fridge with the reverence of a priest at an altar. The pot of chili gleamed under the fridge light, its congealed surface trembling as he lifted it out. He didn't bother with a bowl. Just grabbed a serving spoon and started eating straight from the pot, leaning against the counter like it was a diner stool.

The chili disappeared faster than I thought possible—spoonful after spoonful vanishing into Jerome’s grinning mouth, the occasional red dribble escaping down his chin before he swiped it away with the back of his hand. By the time the pot was halfway empty, the first gurgle erupted from his gut, deep and ominous, like a distant thunderstorm warning of what was to come. He paused mid-bite, spoon hovering in the air, as if listening to his own intestines negotiate with the impending disaster. Then, with a shrug, he shoveled in another heaping spoonful.

By hour two, the cameras caught him pacing the living room like a caged bear, one hand clutching his swollen belly, the other fanning the air behind him as he unleashed a series of bubbling, wet farts that echoed off the hardwood floors. Each step seemed to squeeze another one out—some short and sharp, others long and rumbling, the kind that made the couch cushions vibrate. He paused by the window, bent slightly at the waist, and let out a particularly resonant one that fogged up the glass. "Damn," he muttered, impressed, before shuffling toward the couch with the gait of a man who’d lost a bet with gravity.

The couch groaned under Jerome’s weight as he collapsed onto it, his belly sloshing audibly with every movement. Sweat beaded on his forehead, glistening under the flickering light of the afternoon sun through the blinds. He leaned back, spreading his legs wide, and let out a sigh that quickly morphed into a low, guttural moan. His free hand—the one not kneading his distended stomach—drifted down to the waistband of his briefs, tugging at the fabric as if testing its limits.

A new sound emerged from his gut, a series of rapid-fire gurgles that climbed in pitch like a malfunctioning engine. Jerome’s eyes widened. He froze mid-breath, his fingers digging into the couch cushions. Then, with a suddenness that made him jerk upright, a shart tore through him—a wet, explosive burst that visibly strained the already-stretched cotton of his underwear. For a moment, he stayed perfectly still, as if assessing the damage. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. "Ohhh, that’s the stuff," he murmured, patting his belly like it had just accomplished something impressive.

Jerome stayed frozen for another few seconds, his grin widening as another deep, internal gurgle signaled round two. He shifted his weight slightly, testing the integrity of his briefs, then let out a low chuckle. "Ain't no way," he muttered to himself, just as another violent cramp twisted through his gut. His thighs clenched instinctively, but it was too late—a thick, chunky surge forced its way out, packing his underwear with an audible *splortch*. The sound was so grotesquely wet it made even Jerome pause, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. "Well, shit," he murmured, sniffing the air experimentally before wrinkling his nose. "Literally."

With a grunt, he hauled himself off the couch, his movements careful and deliberate, like a bomb squad handling unstable explosives. The briefs sagged dangerously under the weight of their contents, the elastic straining to contain what was now less of a solid and more of a viscous slurry. Jerome took a tentative step forward, then another, his gait awkward and bowlegged as he waddled down the hallway. Every shift in balance prompted another ominous squelch, the sound muffled but unmistakable. He paused outside the bathroom, considering, then shook his head and kept moving—straight toward my bedroom.

The doorknob to my room turned with a slow, deliberate creak, and Jerome’s massive frame filled the doorway like a landslide blocking a tunnel. His breath came in short, labored huffs, his forehead glistening with sweat as he swayed slightly, one hand clutching his belly, the other braced against the doorframe for support. His briefs sagged grotesquely, the fabric stretched thin and clinging to the mess inside with a damp sheen. For a moment, he just stood there, nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply through his nose, like a wine connoisseur sampling a particularly pungent vintage. Then, with a grunt, he took a single, shuffling step forward—and the dam burst.

A thick, chunky torrent exploded from his briefs with a sound like a water balloon hitting pavement from three stories up. The force of it made Jerome stagger, his knees buckling slightly as he braced himself against my dresser, his free hand flying to his mouth in a mix of shock and delight. "Ohhhh, fuck," he moaned, his voice trembling with something between relief and perverse satisfaction. The mess splattered across my floor in a series of wet, irregular splotches, the smell hitting him like a physical force—a rancid, eye-watering stench that made even Jerome grimace before breaking into a breathless chuckle. "Goddamn, kid," he muttered to the empty room, as if I were there to appreciate the spectacle. "Your ma better not find out about this."

[broken-clancy]

one thing i love is when im holding and its like really solid so when i get really desperate i can just like hump the poop thats inside of me

it feels so so good

especially when i dont even need to do much because its already like right against that part that feels good

[ethereal-goats]

I still don’t think I’m into scat scat, but I think I’ve seen the light on wider forms of bathroom control.

Everyone knows really needing to go makes your tummy hurt, and I’ve shown a propensity for that. I obviously like feeling or someone else feeling overly full and desperate, so it checks that box. Where bathroom control differs from number 1 and 2 is more in the tangibility of it for me. Idk if its just because piss is liquid, but there’s a fickle-ness there. It’s easier to pee secretly than poop, so the stakes are instantly higher. Similarly, it’s a little easier to stop once you’ve started, at least so long as you’re not to the point of losing full control either side.

Idk bro, especially in some sort of set up where someone is dictating when another person can go. Rubbing someone’s tummy when it starts cramping, but still making them force themselves to ignore the urge to empty out. Being able to have the intensity ramp up for days instead of just hours. Self imposed holds and having to pause every now and then because your stomach is in knots and you can literally feel everything pushing down. The way your belly starts to feel idly upset because you’re ignoring it, all heavy and tight and firm. Visible bloat. Being able to modulate intensity at will with extra fiber, gentle laxatives, or imodium.

[sirsimic]

CW: 💩

So I just discovered the Japanese term "bennigamann" (or ben'i gaman?), which means "resisting the urge to poop". Maybe we could use it as the poo equivalent of "omorashi"? It would be a nice bit of symmetry, at least, and would be more like a euphemism for non-Japanese speakers.

[age-of-play-i-say]

Daddy certainly learned to protect our matress full-time after giving Baby special playtime touches to wake up! Daddy was just rewarding Baby for hitting their hydration goals yesterday! And for being a big kid and sleeping without pull-ups for the first time in weeks! 

How could Daddy have known Baby wouldn't be able to hold in their morning tinkles during special playtime? Baby needed their swollen clit stroked in little circles to wake up, right? So, it's not really Daddy's fault that Baby's peepee sprayed all over Daddy's chest and sheets, is it?

[squirmystuffiez]

something so lovely and blushy about a little waking up their caregiver to use the potty in the middle of the night. It’s dark, they’ve had a bad dream and they bolt awake with a full bladder after a spate of deciding they’re ’grown up enough’ to sleep unpadded. The vulnerability of standing in the doorway watching their caregiver sleep, a little nervous to wake them. Hand sneaking down to squeeze through their jammies as the other nudges CG. Murmuring that they need CG to wake up and help them, the admission embarrassing, the fear that CG will be grumpy if woken. But they needn’t worry as CG guides them gently, helping them to pull down their bottoms and sit on the toilet, letting them hold onto CG until they’re finished. Cg giggling sleepily and deciding that maybe little isn’t ready for the potty yet…

[genderweird-individual]

Towel piss, pillow piss, vase piss, hole in the ground piss

It's all about the "last resort" option you shove your crotch into for a few blissful moments, and walk away like nothing happened

[bluepeanutpirate]

im not ever at all usually into medical stuff but....

i saw a hospital drama where a character was boing given an examination and the dr metioned that her bldder felt quite full and asked if she needed to go to the bathroom and just....

ugh it hits just right, the blushyness of someone having actual proof that you need a wee and are holding it in and that them pressing your tummy probably made you need to wee even more-

[bt2357]

[bt2357]

[bt2357]

Pooping

[bt2357]

The moment I stepped out of the locker room, ready for swim class, my stomach suddenly clenched. Not the "maybe I’ll go later" kind of feeling—this was urgent. I turned right back around and power-walked to the restroom, praying I’d make it in time.

Inside the stall, reality hit me like a brick—I was wearing a one-piece swimsuit. No quick pull-down, no shortcuts, just full-on get-naked-or-else mode. My hands scrambled to peel it off, tugging and twisting, struggling against the fabric like I was wrestling a wild animal. My stomach growled in warning. Hurry, hurry, hurry!

Finally, with one last desperate yank, I managed to get it off—almost. The swimsuit landed half inside-out on the floor in a heap as I practically dove onto the toilet. And then… prrrt—plop! 💩

The relief was instant. The dignity? Gone. I sat there panting, staring at the chaos around me—the abandoned swimsuit, my flushed face in the reflection, and the undeniable reality that I had just barely made it.