I love that other anon's story. I have a soft, white recliner that's pretty deep, and if I take the support piece out from under the cushion, it's really hard for most regular sized people to get up. You'd be completely unable to get yourself out of the chair and I'd absolutely have known this before gesturing for you to have a seat. Offering you drink after drink and snack after snack until your weak, incontinent bladder finally signals to you it's going to empty in thirty seconds.
That's when you try to get up and realize you can't. You probably had a bit of that realization when you sat down, feeling extra comfortable. You didn't realize how deep into the chair you are, only how it felt like a big, soft hug. You ignored any future where you had to get out of this chair. Your bladder was fine.
That was two hours ago. You sat in that chair while I brought you all kinds of drinks and snacks that I know trigger your "episodes." I paid attention at work and other times we've hung out and I know what sets off your tummy. So do you, but you ate them anyways. I think you knew what was coming. That, or you didn't care.
You finally panic and ask for help as your bladder starts screaming at you and your bowels begin singing their song. I pretend to help but really I'm not putting in as much effort to pull you up as I could.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think you were so big you'd get stuck in this chair," I say. Maybe my acting is good, but I hope it's not. I'm pulling and you're slowly getting up. Three inches off the chair. Six now. We struggle to get you to past 8 when your bowels let out and you start wetting yourself. I keep you hovered over the chair. Pulling you up while you completely fill your pull-up.
Right when you sigh in relief as you finish, I let you go and you fall back into the chair in your freshly wet and messy underpants. Oh jeez I hope you didn't leak after such a huge flood. It's okay, accidents happen. I can help you clean up if you want, whenever you feel like it. No rush if you want to finish the movie.
The next time you come over, you notice the recliner still has the stain from your accident and leaky pull-up. I didn't even try to clean it.
Oh gosh, another anon with amazing, humiliating ideas 😫😅 My body is certainly not built for those kinds of recliners, they are a real fat trap 😬 The thought of being so close to freedom, to then plummet right back down in my own mess... my my 🫣 Just the thought is making me completely flustered 🫠 Thank you for sharing, and feel free to send more scenarios/asks or DM's 👀