Star

just-hold-it

When I say I'm into messing, I don't mean an "I want you to shit on me and then smear it on my face" way. I mean the "This person is losing control of the most personal bodily function and is teary-eyed and red-faced. They're barely holding on, but when it gets too much all they can do is pop a squat and empty their bowels right then and there in front of the person they trust and admire most. They're embarrassed beyond belief, here they are, frozen from mortification while they shit their pants, they want to speak but they're still grunting and trying to push everything out. There's a massive bulge in the back along with a tint of brown that is a massive indicator on what they just did and the smell is unbearable. They close their eyes as their partner stares at them, letting a couple of tears slip out in the process. But instead of ridicule like they were expecting, their partner wipes their tears and asks them if they feel better before offering to get a bath started." way

#messing

omoghouls

i would like to humbly present to the project hail mary omo conversation that rocky’s sense of sound is insanely good, and as such, even when he’s not looking at grace or he’s fully on the other side of the ship he can *definitely* hear the soft hiss of every single little leak or spurt that happens in grace’s pants (or diaper) 🙂‍↕️ he can probably even hear slight variations in the sound - maybe grace isn’t wearing a diaper one day and he’s been holding it for way too long, ignoring his body’s needs in favour of Sciencing, and from across the ship rocky hears the sharp hiss of a spurt of pee hitting the inside of grace’s underwear and soaking into the thicker material of his jumpsuit, and maybe the sound of a few dribbles hitting the floor? and he scurries across the ship saying “grace no wear leak protection! leaky human, go use bathroom now” and just as he arrives he hears grace let out a shuddery breath and a whine as he loses control and starts peeing harder in his pants 🥴

YesSSSS

The slightest noise, even just the shuffling of papers from three rooms down is heard clear as day by Rocky!

Which is very fascinating,,,when it isn't directed at Grace xD

Poor man can't even squirm without Rock calling out from another room, asking what Grace was doing with his legs- Grace of course tries to ignore it, telling Rocky he was just stretching.

WHEEZING at the visualize of Rocky skuttling rapidly into the lab when he hears the initial dripping like he's trying to house train Grace xD

"Grace leak big. Grace human brain forget question?"

Grace sniffles, shuddering at the cooling wettness as he nods, saying that he didn't mean to, he was having a breakthrough with the gel!

Rocky makes a noise that's 100% a swear in Eridian before clicking his claws, "Grace okay. Accident okay statment. Grace go clean, Grace go put leak protective on."

"B-but, it won't happen again-"

"Grace go put leak protective on, command."

Grace hangs his head and waddles off. And Rocky hears the opening of the package and nods in approval.

#omorashi #omutsu

justpottytime

Something I think is very cute (especially in stuff with littles) is phrases like "it's coming out", almost like the pee is somehow a seperate entity they have no control over with a mind of its own, especially if the person doesn't want to actually use the bathroom it's like they're passing the blame onto the dang liquid

(ie smth like "I really don't wanna stop playing, but pee-pee says it really wants out...the pee says it's gonna come out soon...please hurry, it's gonna make me have an accident...")

- 🌙

Oh yes, this is always so adorable! So funny too, the little clearly wants to pretend it's not THEIR fault they're on the verge of an accident! No, it's the pee's fault for coming out too soon, they couldn't do anything about it! So precious!

Thanks for the ask!

Princess omobait requests the maids stop calling her that and also on an unrelated note that they unlock the bathroom door Right Now

Princess omobait would like to remind her maids that she does not appreciate being denied any kind of throne, her discomfort has nothing to do with the fact that this specific throne is porcelain

Princess omobait is clarifying to her maids that she's refusing to drink from the chalice out of fear for poison, no other reason at all.

Princess omobait refuses to put on the grey sweatpants no matter how much the maids beg her to.

Princess omobait would like her maids to stop referring to her new and innovative take on the waltz as a "potty dance".

Princess omobait royally decrees that that is Not a leak, she just- ohfuckokfine it's a leak pleasepleaseplease can she go to the bathroom now she'll give the maids riches power anything just let her go now pleaaaa- oh dear.

#omorashi #justice for princess omobait

Princess puddlepants dislikes this new nickname even more.

grossgirl34

Underrated Scat Mini Details I Love

Saying “I can’t hold it” while actively pushing. Red face, grunty voice, etc

The subtle shift in expression when someone goes from relaxed to focused as they start pooping. It’s like you can visually track their gradual surrender to nature, the moment they shift from competent adult to animal relieving itself.

Solid accidents in uncommon places. Being on a bumpy bus ride that makes your turtle-heading poop bump against your hole over and over like it’s trying to pry you open from the inside. Being in the crowd at a big area game, struggling with all your might not to relax your bum, then seeing your red face pop up on the megatron right as your gut decides to bear down and work that poop out. Being stuck in an elevator with important colleagues when your poop decided it’s time to come out and despite urgent clenching, you’re forced to stare your colleagues in the face as your hole gapes open.

Side note: solid accidents are almost *more* embarrassing because it’s like…you couldn’t hold that? Not being able to hold a loose liquidy poop is one thing but not being able to hold a big solid poop? Childish incompetent incontinent behavior

I’ve harped on about this before but vocal pooping >>> announcements like “it’s coming out”, “I’m going”, “I’m pooping”, “it’s happening” etc it’s so good idk why

#messing

dilfpregcentral

Hmm… Magic soulmates universe where you conceive the moment you meet your soulmate, and give birth when you get together.

Pairs that hit it off and instantly know the other is “the one” will go through rapid pregnancies. They might sit down at the beginning of a date feeling normal, then suddenly get a little nauseous from the smell of the restaurant and begin to feel tenderness in the chest. A game of chicken starts, each realizing what’s happening to themselves but waiting to see the other’s silhouette begin to round before they say anything. Electric energy builds as they linger over the half-eaten entrees that wouldn’t fit in their suddenly very full bellies anyway, knowing that if they act on their desire to fall into bed together, they might not have time to finish before they have to push.

Maybe there’s a “straight” guy who has a years-long pregnancy, mistaking it for average gradual weight gain until he starts to feel small kicks within. He tries to think of anyone new he’s met recently, but can’t come up with anything. Then the next time he hangs out with his best bro, he notices bro’s shirt is clinging to his belly, and he’s so puffy in the chest that his areola show through his shirt, to say nothing of his thickened nipples. But his soulmate can’t be his bro… that’s gay! He continues to deny it, even as his body grows weary and slow from years of carrying. It’s only the weeks of active labor that finally bring them together, clutching each others’ hands tightly and sharing shaky first kisses between pushes.

There are people who reject the idea of soul mates, and choose to be with someone else. The decision doesn’t seem so drastic at first, even when they start to show. These pregnancies progress so slowly and the symptoms are so mild that it might seem like there are no consequences for their departure from the customs… until they’re well into middle-age and realizing that they’re going to spend the rest of their life in the third trimester of pregnancy. Elderly people with a backs bent by past-due bellies might be seen as admirably principled, or too stubborn, or even as romantic, if they‘ve spent their years with someone who isn’t their soul mate.

A woman might worry that the person she’s attracted to is meant for someone else since they have a big pregnant belly and she’s flat as a board. She decides to be there for them even if it hurts, and attributes her own cramping stomach to the emotional turmoil of her unrequited love. She doesn’t understand why the pain is getting so bad until her body starts sending her strange signals, and she finds herself squatting down and pushing alongside her love.

Of course, soul mates aren’t as simple as one for each person, either. Most people have more than one soul mate!

For a polyamorous person, the births become more complicated. One pregnancy might start or end on top of another, such as a person carrying multiple steadily growing babies in their belly while they foster slower-burning connections, then meeting someone who moves faster and suddenly ballooning up with an additional baby. It’s exhausting to give birth to a 10lb singleton while second-trimester triplets remain unmoved in their womb, but luckily, they have many hands to help.

In monogamous relationships, multiple soulmates aren’t so easy to digest. A happy marriage can be ruined by one person’s belly slowly beginning to round out. This can be especially complicated in cases of infidelity. Many a cheating partner has struggled to conceal their pregnancy or pass it off as weight gain, only to be shamefully discovered with their new lover’s child halfway out of them.

A fraught will-they-won’t-they relationship might be the most unpleasant of all, the troubled couples’ bellies swelling to full term within days or weeks, only for birth to elude them. They might go into labor more than once, or endure prolonged, useless labors, groaning with contractions even as they play emotional games. An unsure lover can inhibit delivery even up to the final moments, with denied feelings or cold feet leaving someone’s poor hole stuck at a quivering crown.

poopsbee

Art I made for this blog! Partially traced from this.

bluepeanutpirate

emma holding it and holding it and holding it at work even though she badly needs to wee because she doesnt want dana to think shes a baby

only to have dana notice her wriggles and squirmy fidgeting and ask if she needs the bathroom

denying it while looking so embarassed

and dana raising a disbelieving eyebrow and telling her to try anyway because she looks like shes going to start peeing in her pants any moment, while guiding her in the directiion of the bathroom

and emma suddenly having to dash in with her hand between her legs because she's leaked-

have2gopotty

You're at the airport, and you got there SO late. Thank goodness your flight was delayed due to the inclement weather, or you'd have fully missed it. You run all the way up to your boarding gate, ignoring how full your bladder is. You can pee in the airplane bathroom.

You hurry to your seat, red-faced. You truly were the last person onboard, you barely made it. All you can think through takeoff is that you can't wait to get into the air and for the announcements to stop so you can go pee. You're bouncing your leg. Thankfully you don't have any neighbors, so they can't be irritated by it. The lap belt on the plane and the tightness of the waistband on your jeans feel like they're tag teaming your bladder, pressing against it, but it still feels like everyone's staring at you, so you don't dare unbutton your jeans.

Finally, you're fully in the air, and you wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off. But, as you should have expected due to the weather, the plane almost instantly encounters some turbulence. The seatbelt sign stays on.

You watch a few shows on the screen on the back of the seat behind you. It doesn't distract you, you have to go. Both legs are bouncing now. Appearances be damned, you unbutton your pants. It feels like every time you relax even slightly the piss tries to get out. And the bumpy flight isn't helping matters, sloshing the liquid in your balloned bladder up and down and side to side.

You keep glancing at the bathroom, door wide open and unoccupied. Maybe no one would get mad at you if you just ran over there, you're sure you could make it even with the turbulence.

Half an hour passes. You leak into your pants a little, despite now clutching tightly at your crotch with one hand and biting down on the other hand. You can't hold it, you have to go so bad. It feels like it's all going to come out, blasting out of you like a pressure washer. Another leak spurts out, creating a tiny visible wet spot at your crotch.

You're so preoccupied that you don't notice that the turbulence has calmed, and the seatbelt sign has turned off. You do notice, though, when someone else runs into the bathroom. No, no, it was open and you missed it... You could be in there pissing right now, you're not going to be able to hold it until they get out. You stand (leaking again; the spot is a little bigger, now) and wobble your way over to the bathroom door, intent on being the next person in. Maybe you can make it, maybe, maybe...

You don't make it. It leaks again and then again two seconds later and then it's a continuous stream. You're pissing your pants in the middle of the aisle, it's streaming down your legs and into your shoes and socks and making a big puddle on the floor, spreading into the footwells of the nearby seats.

It feels like the world has stopped, you can't actually be peeing yourself in front of all these people, right?

You start to cry, bracing against a nearby seat, still wetting. When you're finally done, you start walking back to your seat, shamefaced, only to be halted by one of the flight attendants.

You offer a tearful apology, and she pats your shoulder. "There, there." she says. "We'll get someone over to change you."

You blink your tears away for a moment, confused. "Change me?" You ask. "You mean, you have spare clothes I can borrow on the flight?"

"No, silly." She says. "I mean we'll get someone to get you diapered."

Another flight attendant wheels a large cart down the aisle. On it are cleaning supplies, but the majority of the cart is taken up by what looks like a giant changing table, as if sized for adults. The flight attendant pushing it, dressed like the others but for an apron, smiles and pats the padded surface. "Up you go," he says.

"What- what do you mean?" You're fully bewildered. The strangest thing is that none of the other passengers seem to be noticing the crazy thing going on here.

"Hop up and lie down, so I can get a diaper on you," the aproned flight attendant explains, simply, as if it makes complete sense to say. "You clearly need it pretty badly."

You look around, expecting someone to say something, but all the other passengers appear to be in agreement, to your bafflement. One woman even chimes in. "I've never seen anyone more in need of it in my life."

Eventually, you yield to peer pressure and sit on the table, and are coaxed into lying down by the two flight attendants. They work together to get your soaked pants off, leaving you completely bare-bottomed in front of the whole plane. You cover your certainly-red face with your hands as you're wiped clean. The aproned one pulls out a puffy diaper (there's a picture of a caterpillar on it, you notice, despite your humiliation) and asks you to "Lift up your bum!" so he can get it onto you. He secures it tightly and gives you a little pat. "Up you get, kiddo."

You step off the table, feeling wobbly and lightheaded. The flight attendant who first talked to you leads you back to your seat, and you're almost too shell-shocked to notice that a padded, infantile, adult-sized baby seat has been added. She buckles you in, and hands you a big, soft teddy bear with airplane patterns that you can't help but hug close. "There you go, honey. Here, we'll put on some cartoons."

She hands you a big sippy cup full of juice, and then turns on some kind of animated show you don't recognize. You suckle almost mindlessly at the juice, just wanting to escape this whole situation.

And that's the first time you need changed on that flight. A few hours later, you realize a bit too late that you can't undo the buckles on the seat by yourself...

#omorashi #omutsu

bluepeanutpirate

Being gently nudged awake and realising that you're weeing the bed- having to try desperately to stop so the person waking you doesn't realise you're still going but still being able to feel yourself leaking more and more.

Being able to stop for a minute, only to start wetting again as soon as you're out of bed.

Being gently asked if you want to wear a pullup to bed so you dont make the bed wet again.

Knowing you can either keep your dignity or keep the bed dry but not both....

peninae04

Idea: A pregnant husband supports his wife through labor, quietly experiencing contractions himself and keeping it hidden to stay focused on her, until his water breaks.

The air in Daniel and Clara’s room was thick and electric, heavy with tension and anticipation. Clara stood by the bed, arched like a taut bow, her hands resting on Daniel’s thighs. Her breathing was a rhythmic, ragged gasp, a mantra of pain that filled the room. Daniel, standing before her, was her rock. His arms were strong, his voice steady, his attention completely focused on her.

“That’s it, my love, breathe with me,” Daniel said, his voice a calm she didn’t feel. “A long exhale. Yes, like that. Dola says you’re doing an incredible job.”

Dola, the midwife, moved with quiet grace around the room, adjusting the pillows and checking the monitors. “Dilation is going well, Clara. Just keep listening to your body.”

No one looked at Daniel. No one saw the cold sweat beading on his temple, or the way his fingers dug into Clara’s thighs with a force that was more than just support. No one noticed the slight pallor of his skin or the almost imperceptible tremor in his jaw.

Because Daniel was in labor, too.

It had started that morning, a dull ache in his back that he’d attributed to stress. But then the contractions had begun, rhythmic waves of pressure that gripped his abdomen, squeezing the enormous belly of his own pregnancy. He’d ignored them, buried them under layers of determination. This was his wife’s day. Her moment. He didn’t exist.

“I think I need to push,” Clara moaned, clutching Daniel’s nightgown.

“Wait, my love, wait for Dola to tell you,” Daniel whispered, kissing her forehead. As he spoke, a contraction of his own swept over him, a wave so strong it forced him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning. His stomach hardened beneath his shirt, a solid rock of pain. He leaned more heavily on Clara, using her pain as an anchor to mask his own.

“Ready, Clara,” Dola said. “When you feel the next one, push.”

Clara’s next wave of pain was a scream. Daniel clung to her, feeling her body tremble against his. And in that very instant, his own body decided it could wait no longer.

It wasn’t a scream. It was a surrender.

A wave of immense pressure, unlike anything he’d ever felt before, swept him away completely. He felt a deep tearing inside him, a movement that was both violent and liberating. And then, the heat.

He broke through.

A sudden gush of warm liquid soaked his pants, running down his legs and forming a dark puddle on the wooden floor. The sound was a wet whisper, almost inaudible beneath Clara’s screams and Dola’s words of encouragement.

But Daniel felt it. He felt the wetness spreading, the shame and panic mingling with the pain. He stood completely still, eyes wide open, feeling his secret world crumble around him.

He stood there, in the midst of the pool of his own heartbreak, his heart pounding so hard it hurt in his chest. He supported his wife, whispering words of love to her, while his own birth unfolded in silence—a secret river that only he could feel. His wife’s day had become their day, but only one of them knew it.

monsterbirth

how do we feel about belly binders. tight and rigid compression garments hiding a pregnancy for months on end only to move labor along faster with the added pressure once it begins. the wearer physically can't get it off of them in their state but is desperate to hold the baby in until they get somewhere safer or more secluded. or can't risk their secret getting out in front of whoever they're with, but it is about to quite literally come out of them

rneedstopee

In a swimming pool, bladder so full but it's gross to pee in the pool, the toilets are being cleaned so you can't go there. You try to distract yourself by swimming, you hit the wall on the other side of the pool.

Squirt, your bladder muscles give out for a second.

The sound of water splashing is all over the room. Of hands pushing through water, hitting the sides and the sound of it pouring into the gutter around the pool like a waterfall.

Squirt.

You try to swim again, looking longingly at the out of order bathroom.

Squirt.

One arm forward.

Squirt

Next arm forward.

Peeing.

Oh. Oh. Peeing.

You try to stop it without looking obvious, get to the other side, clenching hard until the flow is weaker. The sound of water hits your ears again. Oh, oh. Peeing, the kind of peeing you can't stop, no matter how hard you try, it all pours out

hush-writes-preg

The camping trip

Imagine being on a camping trip with a group of your guy friends. You planned the trip months ago, and you've been looking forward to it for ages. Unfortunately for you, you managed to get yourself knocked up by one of the other guys during a drunken one-night stand, but you have no idea that you're pregnant. You've always been very fit, so you didn't develop a huge belly to give away the fact that you're carrying a baby. If anything, it's just a stubborn little beer paunch that you haven't been able to shake.

Flash forward to your camping trip. You're having a blast, so when you first notice the cramps, you pass them off as a little stomach trouble brought on by your buddy's bad cooking. There's some back pain too, but considering that you've been hauling around huge backpacks for hours and hours, it's not that surprising.

You hike all day and end up finding a nice spot on the bank of the river to set up camp by the time night begins to fall. Not wanting to be seen as a slacker, you push yourself to help get the tents pitched and a campfire going in spite of your growing discomfort. Your buddies ask once or twice why you've grown quiet, but you just laugh and tell them that all their bullshit wore you out.

They've got no idea what's about to happen any more than you do.

It gets late and you all turn in. The cramps are starting to get pretty brutal, but you're determined to soldier through so you won't ruin the trip. You've taken a couple of trips to the bathroom in hopes of getting things moving, but other than some unexpected wetness, you don't manage to pass anything. And you don't want to keep slipping off to do that and start worrying the guys.

So you try to stay in your tent instead. Curled up in your sleeping bag, panting and sweating, you clutch your belly and curse yourself for forcing yourself to eat that half-burnt hot dog earlier. You can feel your belly clenching under your hands, strangely rhythmic in its machinations, but you stubbornly insist on waiting it out.

You can do this. It's just a stomachache.

It's nearly 3 AM when a sudden sense of pressure fills your pelvis and you panic, sure that you're about to embarrass yourself right there on top of your bedding. You only manage to pull yourself to your hands and knees when a really wicked cramp hits and you instinctively drop into a squat. Cursing under your breath, you try desperately to hold in the contents of your bowels so you can find a more private spot in the woods, but your body isn't having it.

Whatever it is, it's coming.

Biting back a pained groan, you give in to your belly's demands and bear down, only the explosion you expect doesn't come. Instead it's a burning, painful stretch as whatever-it-is inside of you forces you open much wider than you've ever been spread before. Eyes wide, you briefly contemplate calling out for help before another cramp hits. And another. All you can do is ride them out, panting and grunting and pushing hard, hoping that somehow this'll pass and you'll make it through.

At the next cramp, something lurches out of you with a gush of fluid. Bracing yourself on one hand, you shakily reach under yourself and find… a head.

A head.

There's a head straining against your shorts. A baby's head.

Fuck, you are giving birth.

Panic sets in, but you've got no time to do anything about it before another earth-shaking contraction tears through you and you bear down with all your might, right there in your boxers in the middle of your tent. The other guys are sleeping like logs, and their lumberjack snores somehow manage to drown out the whimpers and groans you can no longer hold back. You rock your hips, trying to get this baby out of you all on your own, and nearly scream when the shoulders slide free.

You're doing this. You're giving birth.

Dragging at the hem of your boxers, you manage to pull them down just far enough to give the baby room to emerge, the sensation of that tiny body finally slithering free almost making you cry out in relief.

Collapsing to your forearms, you're left panting against your sleeping bag as the newborn cradled in your boxer shorts squirms and starts to mewl.

It's okay. You're okay.

You just gave birth.

How the hell are you going to explain this to the guys?