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Hi All! This is entirely fictional. Male and female pooping and peeing. The main character is male, but I'm hoping it's told in such a way that guys will still enjoy the story. Let me know what you think!
---
When I was 12, my sixth grade class spent a week at camp. It was the sort of
place where the boys and girls each have a cabin, we sang camp songs and went
on nature hikes. It was mostly an enjoyable experience, but there was one
thing that weighed me down the whole time, and that was that I was simply
unable to shit in the public stalls.
I had always been shy about using the bathroom at school, and generally held
it until I got home every day. I had never, as far as I recall, had a bowel
movement in a public restroom of any kind.
At camp, I somehow got over my inability to pee in a stall, but whenever I got
the chance to take a dump I just didn't have the privacy I needed to relax and
let it out. The result was that I went the entire week without emptying my
bowels. It's still the longest I can remember ever going without pooping in my
entire life. By the time my parents came to pick me up on Friday night, it was
all I could think about. I put my little suitcase in the back of our minivan,
and then took up my customary seat in the very back row, on the left side away
from the sliding door.
My parents asked me questions about the week, but I was distracted and
reticent, which my parents probably chalked up to fatigue, but was mostly
because all of my focus was on the huge need that seemed to fill me from my
lungs down to my toes. After a little while they gave up, and I sat in silence
for the rest of the hour or so of the drive.
I woke up from a doze into the quiet darkness in the van. The sun had gone
down, and the only sound was the low whine of the road. I was relaxed and
almost alone for the first time in a week, and my body seemed to have decided
it was ok to let go of what it had been holding in for days. In fact, it had
decided it was time, and there was nothing I was going to be able to do to
stop it.
I don't know why it didn't occur to me to ask to stop, maybe I was so relieved
I subconsiously didn't want to interrupt the process.
That process was expansion. I suddenly felt the space below my gut was huge,
the hole not just being forced open, but flying open, widening as much as it
could, wider than it ever had before, my insides joyously pressing down. The
feeling of opening and expelling was overwhelming -- it made my toes curl.
Before I could think reasonably about what was going on, I had loosed
everything I could into my pants. This wasn't nearly as much as I wanted,
since it was stopped by the seat. The poop was hard, and hugely wide, and
didn't seem to smell at all. My hole was still open, frozen in mid movement,
and I started to tremble. By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was ready
to do anything to lift off the seat and finish the job.
My mom and dad got out of the car before me, and I indicated I would be right
behind. One of the most distinct sense memories I have is the feeling of
seeing them walking down the driveway, and lifting myself off the seat,
reaching for the sliding door. The instant I made room beneath me, my body
took advantage, and resumed that endless expansion. The huge, hard poop kept
pushing out, like some massive ship leaving the harbor, inexorably growing to
take up all available space. I had completely filled my pants, and felt like I
had completely emptied myself, by the time the sliding door was open.
By the time I got inside, my parents had taken the two bathrooms in the house,
so I carried my suitcase upstairs, feeling the fullness in my jeans pressing
against me. Up in my room, pacing back and forth, waiting for the bathroom, I
felt another wave of need. I didn't hold back, even actively pushed, and this
softer load pushed out and filled in the corners in my pants. It ballooned out
my jeans as far as it could, then started to move up under my balls, pressing
into my taint (I didn't know it was called that then, but I knew it felt
good). Amazingly, it didn't seem to make it out of my underwear, and I
suddenly was glad I didn't wear boxers like the rest of the boys in my class.
My mom knocked on the door to say goodnight, and I responded, but she didn't
open the door. I waited until I heard their bedroom door close, and then I
waited a while longer. I was about to finally go to clean up, when I felt the
need come on again. There were two options -- I could try to hold it until I
was cleaned up, or I could just let it out and clean it up too. I chose the
latter.
And I kept choosing the latter. I would fill my pants to what felt like they
should explode, and then wait. I knew at some point I would be really done,
and then I could go clean up, but until then, why hold back?
I did, I think, three or four more full-sized bowel movements in my pants that
night, one piling on top of the other. By the end, I was kneeling in the
middle of my room, the poop had filled my pants nearly to the waistband on all
sides, and my cock was inexplicably harder than I could ever remember.
I got myself off by rocking my pelvis back and forth as I kneeled there. I
remember falling to my elbows as I came, shuddering in my whole body, and then
staying that way for a long time. Eventually I stood up, a little dizzy, went
to the bathroom and cleaned myself up in the shower. I threw away my pants and
underwear, went to bed, and didn't think about the whole thing again for many
years.
---
It's a little surprising, given what happened to me at that early age, that I
didn't become a poop fetishist. I didn't feel ashamed of what I had done, I
just didn't think about it. I did, however, continue my burgeoning interest in
pee desperation. My shy bladder meant it was a daily experience for me, and
somehow flirting with girls while also struggling to control my pee seemed to
mix up things in my head. Even before I had any image of sex to masturbate to,
I would have fantasies of the girls I liked and I being wrapped in sheets
together, both of us peeing whenever we needed to.
---
When I met the woman who is now my wife, we were both in our late twenties,
and I had established myself in my mind as a pee fetishist. I had told my last
two girlfriends about it, but had never really done any play with either of
them. Honestly, I had enough to do learning the ins and outs of vanilla sex.
My wife came to me as a fetishist as well, a submissive.
She loved it when I tied her up and beat her, and sometimes, when she was tied
to the bed, she would beg me to let her go pee, and I would refuse, and she
would helplessly piss all over herself and the sheets. Sometimes, I would
order her to do it when we were out. We would be on our way back from a party,
taking a long train ride home, a little drunk, and I would whisper in her ear,
"Go. Now." I would see her face turn red, and within a few seconds, she would
tug my arm to let me know she was peeing. "Can I stop?" she would ask.
Sometimes I would say yes, and there would be a dinner-plate sized wet spot on
her crotch. Sometimes I would just stare at her, steely-eyed, and wait for the
puddle to start to form under her.
If you've never dated a submissive, all this may sound shocking, but I assure
you it's only like this when we're playing. In the rest of our relationship
she's quite a feminist. And because I was so game to indulge her fantasies
(I'm leaving out the ball gags and horse whips here, and the many games we
would play that didn't involve pee), she was happy to indulge mine -- most of
the time, anyway. One of the other games we liked to play was when we took
long car rides, one or both of us would wear a diaper. I'd get the nice ones
you have to order online, since they absorb so much. It's not that I'm so
into diapers themselves, but they do allow certain kinds of play that would be
difficult otherwise, and they keep the carseat from getting messed up.
One time we took an eight-hour bus ride, both of us wearing. I told her if she
could last longer than me, she would be allowed to use the bus toilet, but if
she started wetting before I did, she wouldn't be allowed to use the toilet
until we got home. Starting off with a few bottles of water and a coffee at
the beginning of the ride, by the end of hour four, both of us were holding on
for dear life. We were squirming and shaking, and trying not to let anyone
else on the bus in on what was going on. Finally, I heard a whispered gasp,
and then the sound of a furious stream hitting the cottony inside of her
nappy. I immediately began to let out what I was holding in, and I felt the
warmth envelope my cock, and then my whole crotch. The way I remember it, I
basically peed continuously for the rest of the trip, and so did she, giving
my arm a little tug every time she let go again. It's good thing we got the
expensive kind.
---
All of this is really preamble to the story I wanted to tell. With my history
in cars, basically whever I get in one for a long-haul trip, I get a little
hard and start to feel my bladder filling up. Maybe I was a little
overzealous, though, and while my wife was almost always happy to play, every
once in a while she would get annoyed by it. Like the time we visited her
parents, and I smuggled a diaper in my bag. I kept it hidden until the ride
home. She was driving, and as we pulled onto the interstate, I announced my
intentions.
"I'm wearing," I said.
"Wearing what?"
I crinkled the diaper under my pants. "I don't want you to stop until it's
full."
"I should have known that was why you had three cups of coffee this morning.
Jesus, what if my mom had noticed you had that on? What if she'd found it
while we were there?"
I had been careful, but I guess she was annoyed that I had done anything of
the sort around her parents. She was quiet for a while after that.
It's about a seven hour drive home from where her parents live, plenty of time
for my bladder to fill to overflowing, and that's what I was counting on. On
the other hand, I just didn't think about the fact that it had been a holiday,
and the food had been rich and plentiful, and I had been constipated for the
last day we were there. Two days, really, since I hadn't had a bowel movement
since the morning of the day of the really big meal. And now I had three cups
of coffee in my system. Whoops?
"I need to stop," I said. It was maybe an hour into the drive, and my bowels
had suddenly woken up. I could feel strong contractions in my gut -- it felt
like I was about to split open.
"I see, first you didn't want me to stop until you'd completely soaked
yourself, now you want to give up in the first hour?" The edge in her voice
said she was still mad at me.
"I need to sit on the toilet."
She glanced over at me, the annoyance registered in her eyes. "Well, you're
wearing a diaper. Use your pants as a toilet." She didn't misunderstand me. I
stared at her in disbelief. She wanted to punish me? "I'm not stopping this
car until you've gone."
I shivered. Three cups. I was jumpy already from the caffeine, and my bladder
was filling. And I had just been instructed to shit myself.
I did not want that to happen. I had held my bowels for the better part of a
day before, and I figured I would just wait it out. I was sure she didn't
really want me to do it, anyway. And she would have to stop for herself at some
point. Although, I thought grimly, probably not to get gas. Suddenly I wished
we hadn't gotten that hybrid.
---
My body was not going to wait. Four hours in, and I was in serious trouble. I
had to pee like I could never remember before, and my whole lower body was
pulsing with spasms. I would feel my bladder and my intestines tighten and release in
unison. I wouldn't have minded pissing myself, but I was well past the point
where I would be able to do one without the other.
An hour after she first told me to void my bowels in my pants, the need had
subsided, but had been slowly building ever since, and now it was time. There
was nothing to be done. My rational brain had turned off, the world had
disappeared, and all that was left was the need. And the need told me: let go.
And finally, I did. I didn't push, I just quietly stopped fighting. I relaxed
for the first time in hours. She must have noticed that I stopped figeting,
because she looked over at me, and we locked eyes for just a second, the
instant between when I let go, and the torrent started.
My body convulsed. I had no control. My hole opened, my back arched, I started
flooding my pants with piss. I could feel it flowing around my cock and balls.
I could feel my seat filling with muck, my hole expanding infinitely. And I
thought of that night in my parents' van all those years ago.
I lifted my butt from the seat and pushed. My pants were already full, but
there was still so much more inside me. It came and came, emptying out beneath
me in waves, and as I shit more and more, I also kept peeing in a constant
stream.
I relaxed again and eased back into my seat, the shit in my pants spreading
and shifting underneath me. I was still urinating as this happened, and kept
going for a good thirty seconds after I finished my bowel movement.
I sat there, and looked back at her while I finished emptying my bladder,
catching my breath. She started to speak, and I held up my finger, pushing out
the last of the piss before I slumped back. She giggled.
"It's a good thing you get those good diapers," she said, "Well worth the
price. I can hardly smell anything." I grinned sheepishly, and she smiled
back, "How could I stay mad at you after that display of ecstasy?"
"Yeah, that felt pretty good. Sorry about your parents..."
"Well, don't do it again. But it's ok." She paused. "Now *I* really need to
stop." She saw me raise my eyebrows and protested, "well, I had coffee too! It
took you so long to lose it, I'm just about crap all over myself too."
We both laughed, and she pulled into the next rest area a half hour further
down the road. There didn't seem to be much point in me trying to clean up in
a public bathroom, so I waited in the car and used my diaper again while she
went inside.
She came out a few minutes later. "The bathrooms are closed"
"Did you try the mens' room?"
"They're *both* closed," she said, "I think they have a water connection
problem or something. They said there's another rest area just outside of
Springfield." Another forty-five minutes down the road.
"Will you be ok to wait that long?"
"We'll see, I guess."
---
Before we got there, we hit traffic. Springfield's roads were always terrible,
and they were always under construction, but this was worse then usual. We
had been at a total stand still for half an hour when she put the car in park,
leaned back and said, "I think I'm going to explode. It a good thing we're not
going anywhere because it's probably not safe for me to drive. You don't have
another one of those diapers, do you?"
"No, I think there's a towel in the back though." She shrugged, "I guess that
will do for now."
I unbuckled my seat belt, and turned around to pull the towel out of the back
seat. My pants were heavy, and the contents shifted around when I lifted out
of the seat. I could also feel the weight building inside me again. I
definitely would have to shit again before we got home.
I helped her position the towel under her, and the instant she put her butt
back down, I saw her body go rigid for a second, then she relaxed. There was a
soft hissing sound.
"Jesus, I really needed this," she said, as her lap started to glisten. Then
suddenly, she jumped a little. "Oh my god, I almost just pooped in my pants."
"Maybe you should. I wouldn't want us to get in a wreck because you were
trying not to have an accident."
"You just want me to be in the same position you are!"
I didn't say anything, instead, I lifted my butt out of the seat, and pushed,
filling my pants again. Honestly, it felt so good, I didn't know why I didn't
do this all the time.
When I was done I turned to her, caught her wrist, hard, and said, "You
thought you could punish me, but you're not allowed to do that. Now I have to
punish you for your insolence." Her eyes flashed, and she went into submissive
mode.
"I'm so sorry, master, I wasn't thinking."
"Of course you weren't. You never do. Now it's time for you to go in your
pants so you'll know not to do it again. Go. Now."
She lifted out of the seat, and bore down. A flood of piss started streaming
from her, getting caught by the towel. Then I heard it, a crackling sound, and
I knew she was following orders. Her pants expanded under her, growing until
it looked like a small melon was in the seat of her jeans. Then she abruptly
dropped down, and I saw her shudder as the melon squished around inside her
panties.
"Now, make yourself come," I ordered. Without hesitation, she put her hand on
the outside of her wet crotch, and started rocking back and forth. I started
to do the same, feeling my cock slip around inside the diaper, feeling the
muck squish around under me.
I held the hand that wasn't between her legs, and we both built to climax. I
came just before her, squirting out into my diaper just as she started heaving
up and down, wracked with pleasure.
We both fell back into our seats, our chests heaving, and just then a car
honked. She jumped, and looked around.
"The traffic is moving," I said.
"Oh," she said, quickly putting the car back into gear. As she accelerated,
she said, "Jeez, I have to poo again."
I didn't have time to say anything before I heard that crackling sound. She
blushed.
"Sorry, master."
---
When I was 12, my sixth grade class spent a week at camp. It was the sort of
place where the boys and girls each have a cabin, we sang camp songs and went
on nature hikes. It was mostly an enjoyable experience, but there was one
thing that weighed me down the whole time, and that was that I was simply
unable to shit in the public stalls.
I had always been shy about using the bathroom at school, and generally held
it until I got home every day. I had never, as far as I recall, had a bowel
movement in a public restroom of any kind.
At camp, I somehow got over my inability to pee in a stall, but whenever I got
the chance to take a dump I just didn't have the privacy I needed to relax and
let it out. The result was that I went the entire week without emptying my
bowels. It's still the longest I can remember ever going without pooping in my
entire life. By the time my parents came to pick me up on Friday night, it was
all I could think about. I put my little suitcase in the back of our minivan,
and then took up my customary seat in the very back row, on the left side away
from the sliding door.
My parents asked me questions about the week, but I was distracted and
reticent, which my parents probably chalked up to fatigue, but was mostly
because all of my focus was on the huge need that seemed to fill me from my
lungs down to my toes. After a little while they gave up, and I sat in silence
for the rest of the hour or so of the drive.
I woke up from a doze into the quiet darkness in the van. The sun had gone
down, and the only sound was the low whine of the road. I was relaxed and
almost alone for the first time in a week, and my body seemed to have decided
it was ok to let go of what it had been holding in for days. In fact, it had
decided it was time, and there was nothing I was going to be able to do to
stop it.
I don't know why it didn't occur to me to ask to stop, maybe I was so relieved
I subconsiously didn't want to interrupt the process.
That process was expansion. I suddenly felt the space below my gut was huge,
the hole not just being forced open, but flying open, widening as much as it
could, wider than it ever had before, my insides joyously pressing down. The
feeling of opening and expelling was overwhelming -- it made my toes curl.
Before I could think reasonably about what was going on, I had loosed
everything I could into my pants. This wasn't nearly as much as I wanted,
since it was stopped by the seat. The poop was hard, and hugely wide, and
didn't seem to smell at all. My hole was still open, frozen in mid movement,
and I started to tremble. By the time we pulled into the driveway, I was ready
to do anything to lift off the seat and finish the job.
My mom and dad got out of the car before me, and I indicated I would be right
behind. One of the most distinct sense memories I have is the feeling of
seeing them walking down the driveway, and lifting myself off the seat,
reaching for the sliding door. The instant I made room beneath me, my body
took advantage, and resumed that endless expansion. The huge, hard poop kept
pushing out, like some massive ship leaving the harbor, inexorably growing to
take up all available space. I had completely filled my pants, and felt like I
had completely emptied myself, by the time the sliding door was open.
By the time I got inside, my parents had taken the two bathrooms in the house,
so I carried my suitcase upstairs, feeling the fullness in my jeans pressing
against me. Up in my room, pacing back and forth, waiting for the bathroom, I
felt another wave of need. I didn't hold back, even actively pushed, and this
softer load pushed out and filled in the corners in my pants. It ballooned out
my jeans as far as it could, then started to move up under my balls, pressing
into my taint (I didn't know it was called that then, but I knew it felt
good). Amazingly, it didn't seem to make it out of my underwear, and I
suddenly was glad I didn't wear boxers like the rest of the boys in my class.
My mom knocked on the door to say goodnight, and I responded, but she didn't
open the door. I waited until I heard their bedroom door close, and then I
waited a while longer. I was about to finally go to clean up, when I felt the
need come on again. There were two options -- I could try to hold it until I
was cleaned up, or I could just let it out and clean it up too. I chose the
latter.
And I kept choosing the latter. I would fill my pants to what felt like they
should explode, and then wait. I knew at some point I would be really done,
and then I could go clean up, but until then, why hold back?
I did, I think, three or four more full-sized bowel movements in my pants that
night, one piling on top of the other. By the end, I was kneeling in the
middle of my room, the poop had filled my pants nearly to the waistband on all
sides, and my cock was inexplicably harder than I could ever remember.
I got myself off by rocking my pelvis back and forth as I kneeled there. I
remember falling to my elbows as I came, shuddering in my whole body, and then
staying that way for a long time. Eventually I stood up, a little dizzy, went
to the bathroom and cleaned myself up in the shower. I threw away my pants and
underwear, went to bed, and didn't think about the whole thing again for many
years.
---
It's a little surprising, given what happened to me at that early age, that I
didn't become a poop fetishist. I didn't feel ashamed of what I had done, I
just didn't think about it. I did, however, continue my burgeoning interest in
pee desperation. My shy bladder meant it was a daily experience for me, and
somehow flirting with girls while also struggling to control my pee seemed to
mix up things in my head. Even before I had any image of sex to masturbate to,
I would have fantasies of the girls I liked and I being wrapped in sheets
together, both of us peeing whenever we needed to.
---
When I met the woman who is now my wife, we were both in our late twenties,
and I had established myself in my mind as a pee fetishist. I had told my last
two girlfriends about it, but had never really done any play with either of
them. Honestly, I had enough to do learning the ins and outs of vanilla sex.
My wife came to me as a fetishist as well, a submissive.
She loved it when I tied her up and beat her, and sometimes, when she was tied
to the bed, she would beg me to let her go pee, and I would refuse, and she
would helplessly piss all over herself and the sheets. Sometimes, I would
order her to do it when we were out. We would be on our way back from a party,
taking a long train ride home, a little drunk, and I would whisper in her ear,
"Go. Now." I would see her face turn red, and within a few seconds, she would
tug my arm to let me know she was peeing. "Can I stop?" she would ask.
Sometimes I would say yes, and there would be a dinner-plate sized wet spot on
her crotch. Sometimes I would just stare at her, steely-eyed, and wait for the
puddle to start to form under her.
If you've never dated a submissive, all this may sound shocking, but I assure
you it's only like this when we're playing. In the rest of our relationship
she's quite a feminist. And because I was so game to indulge her fantasies
(I'm leaving out the ball gags and horse whips here, and the many games we
would play that didn't involve pee), she was happy to indulge mine -- most of
the time, anyway. One of the other games we liked to play was when we took
long car rides, one or both of us would wear a diaper. I'd get the nice ones
you have to order online, since they absorb so much. It's not that I'm so
into diapers themselves, but they do allow certain kinds of play that would be
difficult otherwise, and they keep the carseat from getting messed up.
One time we took an eight-hour bus ride, both of us wearing. I told her if she
could last longer than me, she would be allowed to use the bus toilet, but if
she started wetting before I did, she wouldn't be allowed to use the toilet
until we got home. Starting off with a few bottles of water and a coffee at
the beginning of the ride, by the end of hour four, both of us were holding on
for dear life. We were squirming and shaking, and trying not to let anyone
else on the bus in on what was going on. Finally, I heard a whispered gasp,
and then the sound of a furious stream hitting the cottony inside of her
nappy. I immediately began to let out what I was holding in, and I felt the
warmth envelope my cock, and then my whole crotch. The way I remember it, I
basically peed continuously for the rest of the trip, and so did she, giving
my arm a little tug every time she let go again. It's good thing we got the
expensive kind.
---
All of this is really preamble to the story I wanted to tell. With my history
in cars, basically whever I get in one for a long-haul trip, I get a little
hard and start to feel my bladder filling up. Maybe I was a little
overzealous, though, and while my wife was almost always happy to play, every
once in a while she would get annoyed by it. Like the time we visited her
parents, and I smuggled a diaper in my bag. I kept it hidden until the ride
home. She was driving, and as we pulled onto the interstate, I announced my
intentions.
"I'm wearing," I said.
"Wearing what?"
I crinkled the diaper under my pants. "I don't want you to stop until it's
full."
"I should have known that was why you had three cups of coffee this morning.
Jesus, what if my mom had noticed you had that on? What if she'd found it
while we were there?"
I had been careful, but I guess she was annoyed that I had done anything of
the sort around her parents. She was quiet for a while after that.
It's about a seven hour drive home from where her parents live, plenty of time
for my bladder to fill to overflowing, and that's what I was counting on. On
the other hand, I just didn't think about the fact that it had been a holiday,
and the food had been rich and plentiful, and I had been constipated for the
last day we were there. Two days, really, since I hadn't had a bowel movement
since the morning of the day of the really big meal. And now I had three cups
of coffee in my system. Whoops?
"I need to stop," I said. It was maybe an hour into the drive, and my bowels
had suddenly woken up. I could feel strong contractions in my gut -- it felt
like I was about to split open.
"I see, first you didn't want me to stop until you'd completely soaked
yourself, now you want to give up in the first hour?" The edge in her voice
said she was still mad at me.
"I need to sit on the toilet."
She glanced over at me, the annoyance registered in her eyes. "Well, you're
wearing a diaper. Use your pants as a toilet." She didn't misunderstand me. I
stared at her in disbelief. She wanted to punish me? "I'm not stopping this
car until you've gone."
I shivered. Three cups. I was jumpy already from the caffeine, and my bladder
was filling. And I had just been instructed to shit myself.
I did not want that to happen. I had held my bowels for the better part of a
day before, and I figured I would just wait it out. I was sure she didn't
really want me to do it, anyway. And she would have to stop for herself at some
point. Although, I thought grimly, probably not to get gas. Suddenly I wished
we hadn't gotten that hybrid.
---
My body was not going to wait. Four hours in, and I was in serious trouble. I
had to pee like I could never remember before, and my whole lower body was
pulsing with spasms. I would feel my bladder and my intestines tighten and release in
unison. I wouldn't have minded pissing myself, but I was well past the point
where I would be able to do one without the other.
An hour after she first told me to void my bowels in my pants, the need had
subsided, but had been slowly building ever since, and now it was time. There
was nothing to be done. My rational brain had turned off, the world had
disappeared, and all that was left was the need. And the need told me: let go.
And finally, I did. I didn't push, I just quietly stopped fighting. I relaxed
for the first time in hours. She must have noticed that I stopped figeting,
because she looked over at me, and we locked eyes for just a second, the
instant between when I let go, and the torrent started.
My body convulsed. I had no control. My hole opened, my back arched, I started
flooding my pants with piss. I could feel it flowing around my cock and balls.
I could feel my seat filling with muck, my hole expanding infinitely. And I
thought of that night in my parents' van all those years ago.
I lifted my butt from the seat and pushed. My pants were already full, but
there was still so much more inside me. It came and came, emptying out beneath
me in waves, and as I shit more and more, I also kept peeing in a constant
stream.
I relaxed again and eased back into my seat, the shit in my pants spreading
and shifting underneath me. I was still urinating as this happened, and kept
going for a good thirty seconds after I finished my bowel movement.
I sat there, and looked back at her while I finished emptying my bladder,
catching my breath. She started to speak, and I held up my finger, pushing out
the last of the piss before I slumped back. She giggled.
"It's a good thing you get those good diapers," she said, "Well worth the
price. I can hardly smell anything." I grinned sheepishly, and she smiled
back, "How could I stay mad at you after that display of ecstasy?"
"Yeah, that felt pretty good. Sorry about your parents..."
"Well, don't do it again. But it's ok." She paused. "Now *I* really need to
stop." She saw me raise my eyebrows and protested, "well, I had coffee too! It
took you so long to lose it, I'm just about crap all over myself too."
We both laughed, and she pulled into the next rest area a half hour further
down the road. There didn't seem to be much point in me trying to clean up in
a public bathroom, so I waited in the car and used my diaper again while she
went inside.
She came out a few minutes later. "The bathrooms are closed"
"Did you try the mens' room?"
"They're *both* closed," she said, "I think they have a water connection
problem or something. They said there's another rest area just outside of
Springfield." Another forty-five minutes down the road.
"Will you be ok to wait that long?"
"We'll see, I guess."
---
Before we got there, we hit traffic. Springfield's roads were always terrible,
and they were always under construction, but this was worse then usual. We
had been at a total stand still for half an hour when she put the car in park,
leaned back and said, "I think I'm going to explode. It a good thing we're not
going anywhere because it's probably not safe for me to drive. You don't have
another one of those diapers, do you?"
"No, I think there's a towel in the back though." She shrugged, "I guess that
will do for now."
I unbuckled my seat belt, and turned around to pull the towel out of the back
seat. My pants were heavy, and the contents shifted around when I lifted out
of the seat. I could also feel the weight building inside me again. I
definitely would have to shit again before we got home.
I helped her position the towel under her, and the instant she put her butt
back down, I saw her body go rigid for a second, then she relaxed. There was a
soft hissing sound.
"Jesus, I really needed this," she said, as her lap started to glisten. Then
suddenly, she jumped a little. "Oh my god, I almost just pooped in my pants."
"Maybe you should. I wouldn't want us to get in a wreck because you were
trying not to have an accident."
"You just want me to be in the same position you are!"
I didn't say anything, instead, I lifted my butt out of the seat, and pushed,
filling my pants again. Honestly, it felt so good, I didn't know why I didn't
do this all the time.
When I was done I turned to her, caught her wrist, hard, and said, "You
thought you could punish me, but you're not allowed to do that. Now I have to
punish you for your insolence." Her eyes flashed, and she went into submissive
mode.
"I'm so sorry, master, I wasn't thinking."
"Of course you weren't. You never do. Now it's time for you to go in your
pants so you'll know not to do it again. Go. Now."
She lifted out of the seat, and bore down. A flood of piss started streaming
from her, getting caught by the towel. Then I heard it, a crackling sound, and
I knew she was following orders. Her pants expanded under her, growing until
it looked like a small melon was in the seat of her jeans. Then she abruptly
dropped down, and I saw her shudder as the melon squished around inside her
panties.
"Now, make yourself come," I ordered. Without hesitation, she put her hand on
the outside of her wet crotch, and started rocking back and forth. I started
to do the same, feeling my cock slip around inside the diaper, feeling the
muck squish around under me.
I held the hand that wasn't between her legs, and we both built to climax. I
came just before her, squirting out into my diaper just as she started heaving
up and down, wracked with pleasure.
We both fell back into our seats, our chests heaving, and just then a car
honked. She jumped, and looked around.
"The traffic is moving," I said.
"Oh," she said, quickly putting the car back into gear. As she accelerated,
she said, "Jeez, I have to poo again."
I didn't have time to say anything before I heard that crackling sound. She
blushed.
"Sorry, master."
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