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Rhys’ Diarrhea Disaster

(This is a fictional desperation story)

Rhys was a performer at the local Renaissance Fair and this year they gone all out, managing to book it on a vast estate of some wealthy history buff who’d recreated a medieval castle, complete with a most and a garden maze. Rhys, a good-looking young man in his twenties with green eyes and blond hair had been tasked with acting as a noble seneschal, greeting guests and introducing other performers. It was easy enough and fun, and he got to wear a cool recreation of a 16th century outfit, old fashion shoes complete with white tights, short black and gold pantaloons and a tight fitting matching doublet with puffy sleeves and a feathered cape. The clothing was tight and hard to get in, and even harder to get out of, but not particularly uncomfortable.

Rhys, thus toon his break in his get-up, slipping into the back of one of the vendors and grabbed for himself a turkey leg. He joined a few other guys in chowing down, before it was time for him to back work.

“Greetings lords and ladies,” said Rhys with bravado as the latest wave of guests arrived. It was the afternoon and the sun was beating down on him, but it was one of the popular times. “Prepare thyself for feats most great and glorious, as ye King’s tournament draw near,” Rhys said, much to the delight of a family as he point to a mom where to find the jousting field. He was directing another guest to the exhibit on dungeon equipment when suddenly Rhys felt a low grumble in his stomach. He wrinkled his nose, confused. He had just eaten, he couldn’t be hungry. In fact he felt really full. Then he stiffened as a cramp struck him.

Rhys let out a low moan as he held his stomach, bending over. BBBRRBBPT! A short hot fart blasted out of Rhys. A guy walking by dressed like a jester laughed at him. Rhys’ face went red. His stomach growled again. He didn’t need to eat, he needed—PPPBRTRRT!—Uh— to expel something. A lot of something. Rhys groaned as his guts twisted and churned beneath the tight fabric of the doublet. God, he needed to take a dump, right this minute!

BBBRRRT! Rhys cradled his stomach, doubling over as another hot fart escaped him. This was loud, booming a it came out. People started to notice the costumed nobleman wasn’t looking quite so noble. But Rhys had just finished his break and he knew his boss would blow a gasket if he took another. BBBRRTNBBBPPPRTT! Oh that was a big one. He should think about anything having to blow! PPrRRT! Not to mention he was suppose to be staying in character

“Greetings lords and—“ Rhys grabbed his stomach again as another cramp struck him like a hammer. It felt like a battering ram of shot had just slammed into his asshole and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold it back. His knees felt wobbly as he bent at the middle, more farts attacks hitting him, each growing louder and louder.

“eEEEW!” Yelled a boy covering his nose and pointing at Rhys. “He’s stinky!”

Bbpprt

PPRTT

BppPPPRT!

Rhys shifted uncomfortably. His stomach roiled he felt bloated and gassy against the tight fit of his doublet, and refusing to budge it press’s into his bubbling guys forcing out a series of farts.

“Oh man,” Rhys muttered, “that turkey leg really isn’t agreeing with me.” He pressed his legs together, but it was no use. He was going to shit, and it was up to him on if that was in a toilet or his pants. “Screw it!” He gasped, and made a mad dash into the fair, bee-lining for the outhouses— Port-A-Potties decorated to look medieval— but was greeted a long line of other desperate fair goers. A line of other men who had eaten the turkey legs were clamoring for a spot, the sound of wet explosions disgustingly loud and clear to Rhys.

GRRearawwallRRL

Rhys whimpered as he held his stomach, shifting again and again in the line. Next to him another man let out a short gasp of relief and began pissing himself right then and there. The sight of the ever growing wet stain on the man’s shorts seem to have a reactionary effect on Rhys’ bladder which suddenly felt twice full.

BBBRRPPPBBBTTSHSWT!

Rhys grabbed his ass through the short pantaloons as another fart burst out of him, turning alarming wet at the end. He clenched his cheeks. “Oh God, there is no way I’m gonna make it!” Rhys groaned as he looked at the outhouses. He need somewhere else to go. He turned, desperately scanning for anything. His eyes focused on the maze. It looked most empty.

Rhys, one hand planted on his round ass and the other pressed between his legs and gripping his crotch ran across the commons and into the maze, stumbling through the many twist and turns, farting with each step. He finally came to a stop in a secluded corner as another cramp hit him and he doubled over.

“fuck it!” Rhys gasped as he resolved to pop a squat in the maze. He looked down at the pantaloons and began to work on the laces that went up the front against the bulge of his pulsing crotch. He moved as fast as he could, but there were so many, and the laces were done so tight. Panic started to set in as he tried to move faster. But the laces wouldn’t budge and the battering ram of hot loose shit was ready to breathe through.

“No! No, no, no, come on!” Rhys begged as he tried in vain to tug down the pantaloons of the white tights as his stomach chained like an angry volcano. “Please— please don’t make me shit myself!” He shook and squirmed, but it was no use as the battering ram of shit slammed against his hole and broke through.

“Aahhh… can’t hold it! AaaaAAHH!” Rhys moaned as a a thick wet turd the size of a soft ball burst through his hole and into his white tights. He gasped as the tights were instantly stained a muddy brown, the stench so thick it made him gag. And it was only the begging. He left out another moan as, the gates broken through, a tidal wave of soft diarrhea poured out of him in an uncontrollable burst into his pantaloons. It quickly filled them, Rhys left doubled over as he lost complete control of his bowls, soiling his costume. As he continued shitting himself , Rhys’ bladder too gave in. His eyes fluttered as he began peeing his pants, flooding the front as a golden waterfall fell over his fingers, frozen where they were still on his laces, streaming down his thigh and legs, mixing with the mudslide going down the back of his tights.

BLABBBBDGFFFBBBFFFFRT!

PLLOPPOPPOKLRRRBBBRRT!

SSPOOSSSLAAT!

Rhys whimpered as his pantaloons were filled, till his ass was swimming in the tidal wave of diarrhea, which came out in explosive blasts that Rhys helpless. The smell was toxic, the raw sewage his body was producing horribly rip as it started to mush up his back and onto his doublet as his guts bubbled and forced out more rancid fart into the growing mess. Rhys fell to his hands and knees, landing the massive puddle of his own shit and piss.

He breathed heavily as the diarrhea pouring out of him slowed. His entire outfit was ruined. His tights soaked, his shoes flooded with still hit urine sewage. He let out a small sob at his embarrassment, though despite it all a part of him was happy to have the release, though his gut still felt funny.

Rhys was finally able to strip out of his soiled clothes, wiping himself off as best he could. He was left entirely in the nude expect for his hat, which he held over his privates as he made his way through the maze. He figured everyone would be watching for the joust, so he could make a quick dash to the employee’s tent and grab his civilian cloths and book it. And he might have made it too.

But just as Rhys was reaching the maze entrance, not a soul in sight, he was hit with a second wave of explosive diarrhea. He let out a sharp, embarrassed gasp as he felt his bowels loose and he froze. Instinctively he grabbed the hat he’d been using to cover himself and placed it beneath him as he squatted. “Oh god, not an Again — UUaghhhAaaAAHH!”

BBBBRRRSSPLLAAATTT!

Rhys moaned loudly, his cheeks red as his ass erupted like a poop volcano beneath him into his hat. He gasped and groaned as wave after wave of explosive diarrhea blasted out of him hot as lava and disgustingly thick, filling the poor unfortunately hat till it was overflowing.

It was in the middle of this, Rhys shitting uncontrollably, emptying his bowels into his own hat when the joust ended and everyone came flooding back into the the commons. Suddenly all eyes were set squarely on Rhys and his diarrhea disaster.

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