Desperate for a Story: Pee Desperation Stories

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I'm sorry," Sol finally whimpered out into Damien's chest. Damien just held him tightly, the both of them standing there in place. The night was cool and quiet aside from a few chirping birds, the tree branches rustling and creaking. Sol's sobs quieted down, until he was resting sleepily on Damien's chest, eyes closing from exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he kept mumbling, even as he stilled. "So sorry for everything." Traffic freed. All at once, Damien was driving smoothly down the highway. "We're out of traffic," Damien breathed in relief. "Okay, hang on. I'm taking you to the hospital." Sol swallowed, closing his eyes. His bladder sent urgent waves up his body, his poor abdomen containing what felt like an ocean. "I'm sorry," he said in a tired voice, eyes still closed, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. "I just...my stomach hurts, okay?" His voice broke a little - mostly because he was so scared about wetting himself. He knew Damien would dump him if that happened. Nobody wanted a baby for a boyfriend. You were supposed to be careful, Sol grinded his hands into his crotch harder; almost painfully harshly, as if he was punishing himself. How could you be so stupid and let this happen? Everything he had worked for went down the train. All of the precaution he had taken the last few years to never wet himself again had gone to waste - and now he was standing in his own piss, his father in front of him, his life about to spiral downwards once more.

I know what you need now," Damien whispered softly. "C'mon. Let's get you inside and to the bathroom. You can do it." And then Sol's father. Damien couldn't think about it anymore; his own eyes were burning with tears that he refused to let fall. He hated Sol's father at that moment. After all, wetting yourself while fully conscious and awake, even at fourteen, was pretty abnormal. Oh, P.S...Alex is pee-shy…hm hm hm ;) ;) ;) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5leYn4958ec Language: English Words: 1,686 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 1 Kudos: 16 Hits: 2,016Damien must have heard the whimper. "Is it that bad?" He asked from the front, voice filled with concern. Damien shrugged with a smile. "What can I say? I like to impress my favorite boy in the whole wide world."

Sol gasped softly as his bladder replied with an urgent yes, a spurt of pee spilling from his bladder and into the fabric of his boxers. The pee was warm and moist, and incredibly nice to let out, but it sent Sol into a deep pit of fear. Both his hands squeezed harder, and he shifted his bum on the seat, bending forward deeply. Don't wet yourself, he pleaded to his bladder. You're going to lose everything if you do. Sol writhed in his seat, pale and moaning with desperation. But you sound like you're in so much pain," Damien babbled, feeling helpless up front. "I can hear your crying, and, please, baby, maybe there's something wrong."Damian stopped. Then grinned. "Except you." He leaned down and kissed him. "You're even better than Pizza hut desert." Sol whirled around, and made an "oomph" noise as the tingles from the ground rushed to his full bladder; the quivering organ full and round with piss. He knew it pretty pathetic to feel full after one glass of coke, but the coke had been extra large, and Sol wasn't used to holding it. He always took precaution to go every hour, so his bladder muscles had weakened considerably over the years. To top it off, he'd never had the largest bladder to begin with. Get out." Sol's father's voice was cold. "And take your faggot boyfriend with you." The words were cruelly said - the meaning of the words even crueler. Sol tried to apologize, but all he could hear was a loud ringing in his head, a loud chorus of voices saying, You're so stupid. You're so stupid. You're so stupid. His whole body was vibrating, trembling from head to toe, and he was heaving as he cried.

Sol's head whipped up; relief swarmed his body in a furious rush of exhilaration. They were in his driveway - in the driveway that led to his quaint little house that had a quaint little bathroom. And then - all at once - horror settled deep in his stomach, along with his full bladder. Sol had planned to act composed when Damien came around to open his door, but all his composure left the window when he saw the lights on in his house.

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I'm thrilled," Sol said. He shifted his bum on Damien's lap, trying to find a comfortable position. He'd always had a small bladder, and because he always went to the bathroom about a million times a day, his bladder muscles couldn't endure holding for that long. He could feel the pulsing in his lower abdomen, and the faint ache starting to form. I have to get to the bathroom...just in case... Babe," Damien said. "I'm really sorry about this, but...I think we just hit traffic. I know you don't feel well, um, but...there's a spare bag in the trunk if you feel like queasy and-" Sol just nodded, still frozen with fear. He removed his hand once more, but was forced to rub his legs together desperately as he was pulled along by Damien. As they left the room, his bladder once more squeezed, as if asking, We're leaving without using a bathroom? Sol just told it to shut up, moaned softly, and let himself be dragged outside of the pizza place. The sky had darkened across the city, stripping the light blue to a mix of oranges and pinks. Dinner at the pizza place, and drinks afterwards." Sol bumped his hip to Damien's. "You need better memory." The drive was painful for Damien. His whole body had clenched up, and nausea had crept up to his throat. He had never seen his boyfriend that way before. He'd never seen Sol lose himself like that, and he'd never seen Sol call himself those awful names. Was wetting himself really that big of a deal? Damien didn't think it was. He really didn't. Yeah, it was a bit unusual, but he knew he would never judge Sol because of a mere wetting.

One of you,” Natasha spat grumpily as she stalked her way to the bustling early morning chatter of the common room, “doesn’t know how to aim. If I end up sitting in a puddle of grown men’s piss again, you’re all sleeping with your eyes open. Capische?” Everything is wrong, but it's not medical. Or maybe it was medical. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Other people never had these kinds of problems at seventeen, did they? Sol moaned loudly, body wrenching forward, hands jammed in his crotch. His boxers were wet and damp, encouraging the rest of his bladder to pour over them. Sol winced and squeezed and wriggled. He couldn't give in. He couldn't- A cute little Finchel story for the Glee fans (kinda) based on Glee: Season 3 Episode 13 and one-line from Glee: Season 1 Episode 10. Not allowed," Damien sang. He patted Sol's shoulder. "It's okay. We can heavily make out afterwards." Sol bent forward, eyes filling with tears. Why were they stopping? There was no rest stop here. Why had they stopped? Why wasn't the car moving, dammit?His father didn't know about Damien. He didn't even know Sol was gay (lest he kill Sol for being such an abomination). And now? He knew his father was going to stand there and interrogate him, and Sol wasn't sure he could hold in his pee to that point. He wasn't even sure he could survive the whole situation. Helpless and lost, his eyes blurred as his crying got louder, both his hands squeezing to hold in his painfully full bladder.