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wet-and-wedgied · 1 year

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Spencer’s Spicy Salad

Spencer rolled up from underneath the customer’s truck as the clock struck the time for lunch. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, leaving behind a bit of grease and jumped up to his feet. Spencer was a tall young mechanic who had been left in charge of his boss’s shop for the day. A fit man college student with short curly brown hair, strong arms and defined chest he cut an figure even in his simple mechanic’s get up: a tight white shirt and a pair of well worn grey overalls.

He grabbed a rag and wiped off the excess grease off his hands as he popped into the break room, a tiny little alcove with a water cooler and mini-fridge, putting out the salad he had grabbed earlier before work. It was some kind of spicy Mexican salad he had seen on his feed at some local place and had decided to try it out. It was supposed to be really good for the digestive track and a delicious meal for those looking to stay fit.

Spencer propped his leg up and chowed down. It was way spicer than he had thought, the kale in it practically soaked in some creamy dressing that while delicious kept burning his tongue. Spencer kept refilling his water bottle and chugging the whole thing in order to cool off. Still it was delicious. And filling too. Spencer patted his full stomach satisfied as he tossed the bowl and finished up his lunch and went back to working in the truck.

Spencer was finishing tightened the last bolts in place underneath the truck and he felt his stomach flip. Still on the board on his back, he lifted a leg and ripped a hot fat fart.

PPOPPPFFFBBBRT!

Spencer laughed, patting his stomach as some pressure was lessened, and blew out two more farts

PPFFFERRT

BBRRTFFRRRT!

Spencer slid out from underneath the truck and was greeted with the rancid smell of his own ass. “Damn, I reck. But I really needed that!”

“Well I hope you got it all out of your system then,” said Spencer’s boss. Spencer looked up to see his boss, a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, holding his nose and fanning the air.

“sir!” Spencer flushed, scrambling to his feet. “My bad. Sorry, I thought you said you’d be gone today.”

“I am, I am, just checking in is all. Making sure you haven’t burned down the place.”

“no sir—” PPfffpppertRRT!

Spencer covered his rear as another fart ripped out him. His stomachgurgled and flipped again. His boss increased his fanning. “Geez. Light a match in here and you just might. What did you eat, son?”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond but was waved off.

“Nevermind, is the truck ready, they should be coming to pick it up soon. I want to make sure you got this on your own, eh.” His boss smirk and tapped Spencer in the stomach and Spencer tense feeling his guts bubble and gurgle protest.

“no problem sir,” Spencer said.

“perfect, Ah look here they come now.”

Spencer turned to see a handsome man a few years older than Spencer with a bright smile and two twin teen boys glued to their phones coming in. “Hey, everything ready? We’re looking forward to going camping!” The truck owner said with high optimism. The two boys each rolled their eyes.

“You’re excited Uncle Daniel,” one of the boys groaned.

“Like a dork,” said the other. “You like being alone in the woods cause it doesn’t sound as bad as being alone in the real world.” The twins high-fived, neither looking up from their phones.

The truck owner— Daniel’s smile flattened but he push onward. “You two really don’t let up, huh. Sorry, is the truck ready? Then we’ll get out of your hair.”

“No worries,” Spencer’s boss said, “Spencer here will take care of you.”

“Right!” Spencer said offering a hand to Daniel. “Spencer. Sorry, you already know that. Um, yes, your truck is ready.”

“Wonderful that is great news.” Daniel took Spencer’s hand, giving it a firm handshake as their eyes.

“I really like camping,” Spencer blurted out. Daniel’s lips curled into a smooth grin.

“really? We’ll maybe we—“

“Ew, Uncle Daniel stop flirting with the mechanic dude,” whined one of the teens.

Spencer felt a flush on his cheeks— only for it to be replaced with a far more intense feeling in his stomach. Any butterflies he felt seemed to be carrying megaton warheads, dropping them in his intestines. An ominous gurgle went through him and Spencer clutched his abdomen. The pressure on his guts was intense. Fuuuck… he needed to shit.

“you okay?” Asked Daniel.

“yeah, yeah,” Spencer said hastily. “I just need you sign some paperwork and I’ll go grab your keys. Spencer hurried out of the garage and into the office, a series of small hot farts squeaking out of him as he went. He hurried over to the papers and

PPPPPFFFFBBBFFRRRTPPPBBBBT!!!

Spencer gasped as a massive fart erupted out of him as he bent to grab the clipboard sign the paperwork on it. He held his stomach. Fuck that spicy salad was messing with his guts. His stomach broiled like an Icelandic mud volcano. Spencer clinched his cheeks. Ahhh. Don’t think about mud volcanoes. He looked to the board where they hung the keys and then to down the hall where the bathroom was. He desperately wanted ti make a mad dash to the bathroom and absolutely destroy the toilet. But his boss and that hit uncle were waiting for him. He groaned. Shit. He could hold it for a few minutes. He grabbed the keys and speed walked back the garage. As he step through the door the water cookie gurgled and suddenly the pressure seemed to shift from. His rear, the pressure subsiding on his packed colon, but only to fall squarely onto his bladder. Spencer tensed as he paused in the garage, pressing his legs together as a lake of hot piss sloshed in his bladder, all those bottles of water lapping against the dam inside him. A dam that desperately wanted to burst.

“Spencer, you okay?”

Spencer looked up to see his boss and Daniel both looking at him. He gave them both a nervous smile.

“I-I’m fine.” Spencer said, and straightened. He forced his legs apart and focused on not pissing himself. He could hold it. He could hold it. He could hold it. Spencer repeated the thought in his head as he half walked half shuffle over to Daniel. “Here you go— Ahh!” A leak squirted out of Spencer, dribbles of hot piss splashing into his soft boxers. Spencer bent, his knees pressed together. He held back a whimper as he bounced from foot to foot, his bladder aching. Oh man he didn’t have drunk so much water.

“Are you sure you are okay dude?” Daniel asked.

“He looks like he is doing the pee dance,” snickered one of Daniel’s nephews.

Another leak squirted out of Spencer at the sound of the word ‘pee’. “Ahh!” Spencer cried out as he gave in and wedged his hand between his crotch, desperately holding onto his crotch. Spencer bit his lip and held the truck key’s for Daniel to take, but he was frozen in place.

PPpFfrtt

Spencer gasped as he farted, hot and stenching. His stomach gurgled and he temporarily lost his control on his bladder. Hot piss sprayed out of his cock and into his boxers.

“nNoooOO—Ahh!” Spencer cried out and moaned as he tried and failed to regain control. The dam gates had opened and now the flood came bursting through! Spencer stood frozen as his body let go and he began soaking his boxers, peeing his pants, a dark wet patch blooming at the crotch of his overalls and then spread fast as rivulets of urine ran down his legs and soaked through the fabric. Spencer’s eyes fluttered as he pee, flooding his overalls, sending hot push gushing through the material and over his hand, still desperately gripping his leaking crotch even as Spencer formed a puddle beneath him.

PSsssssSSHH

“oh man! The mechanic is pissing his pants!” Said on the of nephews.

“Dude is soaking them too!” Said the other, holding up his phone to record.

Spencer was helpless as his bladder emptied itself in his boxers and overalls. But that wasn’t the worse part. As his bladder gushed out, his stomach gurgle and shit that had filled him slammed against his rear. His guys bubbled and Spencer knew he wasn’t able to keep control over his bowels.

PPFFFFBBRRT

PPBBBBRFFFFERRTTT

BBBTRRFFF

Spencer bent as he was hit with a series of wet “oh no!” Spencer dropped the keys in Daniel’s hand and turned trying the run back inside, but only made it a few steps before a massive cramp bent him over.

PPPRRRRBFFFF!!!

“Come on, no, no, no,” Spencer said panicking as he fumbled with the clasp on his overalls. If he could at least get out of them, but the clasp was stuck and then it was too late. “No-AaggAAAHHH!”

Spencer moaned as he lost complete control of his bowels, a torrent of hot diarrhea exploding into his already soaked boxers and overalls. It was a volcanic mudslide, thick and soft as it blasted out of him. A massive bugle was instantly forming in his overalls, staining the back as he had the front.

BLLKOOPOOOPPPPFFFT

SPLKTPPPFFFFT

“oh my god!” Spencer’s boss cover his nose as Spencer relentless farted as wave after wave of hot recking shit erupted out of him . The liquid shit overflowed his boxers as he emptied his bowls, diarrhea slide down his legs and splattering against the garage floor. Spencer was helpless as he evacuated the hot muddy brown sewage.

PLSSPPOFFFRRT

PPBBBRRTTPPFFFTSSSTK

Spencer, defeated as another wave hit him, feel to his knees, landing in puddle of his own piss as more diarrhea filled his overalls. The foul stench filled the entirety of the garage, as Spencer could only sit in his disgrace.

“oh man,” snicker one of the twins. “This is going to get a shitload of views!”

Spencer groaned as a final fart marked the end of him shitting and soiling himself. He was never trying spicy salad again

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wet-and-wedgied · 1 year

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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.

#male piss #male omorashi #malediarrhea #diarrhea #omorashi #pantspissing #pants wetting #pants shitting #soiling #pooppants #male pee desperation #malepoop #male poop desperation

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