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  1. Derek woke to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking. It was his favorite breakfast and his roommates, Kevin and Chris, were cooking it for his 20th birthday. Derek got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to eat his breakfast. On the way he passed the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He had short blond messy hair and was skinny. Girls may have thought he was attractive but he wished he was bigger. Looking at the toilet he realized he had to pee. He thought to himself “I can hold it while I eat” and walked on out to the kitchen. Once he got there breakfast just finished cooking and Kevin was putting it on a plate. Once Chris and Kevin saw him they broke out singing Happy Birthday. Derek expected this but he always hated it, He would much rather Chris and Kevin attack him or something. But he let them know that so so why wouldn’t they do that instead. After they finished they sat down to eat. Derek sat on the couch with his feet up. Derek enjoyed his meal with his favorite breakfast drink, OJ. The OJ was good but did not help his bladder. Once they finished eating Kevin went to get ready for his part time job and Chris went for a walk. Derek just sat there watching tv for awhile, he knew he should go to the bathroom but he didn’t. After a whole his need had increased rapidly and he decided he couldn’t wait. He got up and headed to the bathroom but of course the door was closed. Nick was taking a shower. Standing at the door Derek noticed his need was much worse then he thought, he barley could hold it. Derek pounded on the door yelling “KEVEN” But of course no answer. He leaned against the door crossing his legs and holding himself. Right then Chris came in and headed straight to his room. He came out 5mins later in only his green boxers. Derek have had a crush on Chris forever. He had short brown hair, wore glasses, and had an amazing tan. Just Derek’s type and seeing him in only his green boxers was a dream come true. He went and stood behind Derek grabbing himself as well. Derek looks at him and says “you have to pee really bad too”? Chris nodded bouncing from one foot to another. Derek was doing the same. After what seemed like hours Keven turned the water off. Hearing this Derek once again pounded on the door and yelled “open the door Chris and I are about to piss ourselves”! Keven opened the door to see both his roommates with there legs crossed and holding them self’s. As soon as the door opened Chris tried to push pass Derek but Derek pushed him back and said “wait your turn”! Chris replied “I can’t, I’m about to piss my pants”! “So am I!” Derek said as he walked into the bathroom. Chris tried to follow him but Derek pushed him out saying “wait your turn” and closing the door and locking it. Derek could feel hot piss leaking into his pants but since his shorts were black you couldn’t see any wetness. He got to the toilet and pulled down his pants and undies and legged the lid. As he released Chris heard and couldn’t take it anymore. His own bladder released. It started and a stream but quickly turned into a jet of hot piss soaking his green boxers and running down his legs foaming a huge pee puddle around his feet. Chris couldn’t believe what was happing but it felt so good he didn’t care. After he finished what happing dawned on him and he turned bright red in embarrassment. Right then the bathroom door opened reveling Derek. As Derek stood there staring, Chris started to cry. Looking at Chris Derek couldn’t help but to think he looked cute. Keven came out of his room to see what all the noise was. When he saw Chris he stopped in his tracks. Derek wrapped his arms around Chris who was still crying.
  2. This is a little something I wrote a couple of days ago. It's a one-shot for now. Maybe there will be more at some point if people like it and I feel up to it. The protagonists are as yet nameless, but that may change too. Who knows? ———————— It starts with harmless flirting. We’re both grad students, sharing an apartment. He’s studying law, I’m in computer science. We didn’t know each other from before, I just found his ad in a Facebook group saying he was looking for a roommate. I’d just been dumped at the time and needed a new place to live. We joke around, he makes lewd comments and we laugh about it. The first time it happens, we’re both drunk. We’ve had a night out with some other students and when we get home, he grabs me and kisses me. We don’t even make it to the bedroom, we just fuck in the hall, up against the front door. It’s never been like that before, with anyone. He’s forceful, and I really like it. We’re not boyfriends. We never kiss, after that first time when we were drunk. But a couple of times a week, we end up in bed together. I never used to be such a bottom, but I love the way he fucks me. I never used to be a size-queen either, but his cock is amazing. I wake up with a sore ass and finger marks around my wrists, and I love it. We’ve been doing it for about a month when, one Saturday, he asks me to the movies out of the blue. An early afternoon showing of some new action flick. I agree immediately, even though it’s not really my genre. I don’t know if it’s a date or if we’re just going out as friends, but I wear my favourite skinny jeans with a faded band t-shirt that’s slightly loose around the collar. It shows off just a little bit of collar bone. I think I look pretty cute. You know, for being me. He buys me a bucket-sized drink on the way into the theatre. ‘Make sure you drink it all,’ he says. Somehow, it sounds like a command, not a suggestion. I glance over at him as we sit down. ‘Hey,’ I whisper, licking my lips. ‘Hm?’ ‘I . . . I was just wondering . . .’ He turns his eyes on me. ‘Wondering what?’ ‘Is . . . is this a date?’ I mumble. He smiles a little wider. ‘I don’t know. Is it?’ I blush, staring down at the drink in my hands, and for want of anything else to do, take a large sip. It’s a pretty good movie in spite of the genre, but about halfway through I start getting the powerful urge to piss. I lean close and whisper, ‘Can I get past? I gotta use the bathroom.’ ‘No,’ he says softly. I blink. ‘I . . . what?’ ‘No,’ he repeats. ‘You’re staying here. You finish that drink yet?’ I shake my head. ‘It’s a really big drink.’ ‘I know. And I’ll be annoyed with you if you haven’t finished it by the time the movie’s done. Stay in your seat.’ Someone shushes us from the row behind and I bite my lip, turning my gaze to the screen. I tap my foot. I guess I can hold it. I take another sip of the drink. I don’t really remember much of the second half of the movie. When my leg starts shaking, he grabs my thigh and squeezes. I swallow, take another drink, try not to think about how much I need to piss. When the movie’s done, he takes the cup from me. ‘Hm. You didn’t finish it.’ ‘I . . . I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I just . . . I really need to—’ ‘Finish the drink first,’ he tells me. ‘We’re not going anywhere until you do.’ He hands the drink back and I take it wordlessly. There’s not that much left, and somehow I manage to finish. Then we stand. I immediately cross my legs. This is not good. I feel like I may wet myself if I don’t get to a bathroom soon. But when we exit the theatre, he takes my hand and leads me straight past the toilets. I stare at him. ‘Wait! I gotta—’ ‘Hold it until we get home,’ he says. ‘But—’ ‘Stop talking back.’ His voice is calm and he’s smiling. He looks mildly amused. I feel myself flush. Part of me is angry that he won’t let me go pee. Another part is embarrassed that I’m struggling so much to hold it. And then there’s a third part of me, buried deep, that’s . . . excited. We exit out onto the street. It’s only about five o’clock so it’s still light. ‘Promise we’re going straight home?’ I ask, my voice pleading. ‘I promise. We’re going to the car.’ Walking is a struggle. With every step, I worry I’ll pee my pants. ‘Please,’ I try again. ‘Can’t we go by a café or something so I can—’ He stops in his tracks and I halt as well. He turns to me. ‘Didn’t I tell you not to talk back?’ Lowering his voice, he whispers, ‘I think I’m gonna have to punish you. When I get you home, I’m gonna give you a good, long spanking. And then . . . then I’m gonna wreck you.’ I shut my eyes tight, trying to keep my breathing steady. That excitement rises in me, my body responding to his words and his voice. Around us on the busy street, people are walking, chatting, on their way to places. I desperately need to pee. The good news is I’m rock hard, which helps. The bad news is I’m rock hard and I’m wearing really tight jeans. My cheeks feel hot. I take a shaky breath. ‘Oh?’ I feel him step closer. ‘What’s this, hm? Did the promise of a spanking make you this hard?’ I open my eyes and meet his gaze. My eyes are wide. He smiles. ‘What’s the matter, boy?’ ‘I . . .’ I swallow. ‘It’s embarrassing . . .’ ‘What is?’ he asks. I don’t answer, not sure what to say. ‘Getting this hard just from me talking to you? Getting this hard in a public space? Man, anyone who looks in the direction of your crotch will see how hard you are in those tight jeans.’ I shut my eyes again and whimper. ‘Please . . .’ ‘Please what?’ I shake my head. ‘I . . . I don’t . . . I can’t move . . .’ ‘You can’t move? Why?’ ‘I . . . I really have to pee!’ He chuckles. ‘Does that make you hard too?’ There’s no use lying to him, so I nod, eyes still shut tight. ‘What do I do?’ ‘Well, doesn’t seem you have much choice,’ he says. ‘You’re just gonna have to pee.’ My eyes fly open again. ‘Here?’ ‘Good a place as any.’ ‘Someone will see!’ ‘If they see, they see. My car is over there.’ He points. ‘If you can’t get there like this, you’ll just have to pee first.’ ‘Like . . . piss my pants?’ He nods and I shake my head. ‘That’s gross!’ ‘Hm. Is it? Is that how you really feel?’ It is and it isn’t. It does feel gross, but the thought of it makes me feel so hot too. ‘I . . . I’ll try to make it to the car,’ I say at last, and I take a step forward. It’s one step too many and I lose control. ‘Fuck!’ ‘Potty mouth,’ he admonishes me. ‘That’s gonna earn you an extra spanking.’ ‘Ugh!’ I try to stop the flow, but it’s not working. He’s staring at me, his eyes moving down my body to the wet patch forming on the front of my jeans. They’ll be soaked soon if I can’t stop, if I can’t cut off the flow. In the end, I give up. I cover my face with my hands and sob, letting it happen. ‘Hm, dirty boy,’ he says softly when I’m all finished. ‘Let’s get to the car.’ I open my eyes and look around. No one’s watching me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean no one noticed a grown-ass man wetting his skinny jeans in the middle of the street. I let him take my hand and lead me to the car. ‘Won’t . . . won’t I stain the seats?’ I mumble. ‘They can be cleaned,’ he says. ‘Get in.’ I get in the car. It’s only a short ride to the apartment. When we get in, he pulls down my pants without ceremony in the hall, the sopping wet material hitting the tile floor with a wet thud. I’m still hard, but he doesn’t touch me, just looks at me. ‘So dirty,’ he says. ‘A man in his twenties who can’t even hold his bladder. Aren’t you ashamed?’ I stare at the floor, my face red, and nod. ‘Yes,’ I whimper. ‘Imagine if this had happened somewhere else. In class, maybe, in front of everybody. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?’ It would, and the very thought is making my cock throb. ‘I . . . please!’ I try. ‘Please what?’ ‘L . . . let me come!’ ‘Oh, is that it? You think you deserve that?’ He reaches down and runs his finger up the length of my cock. It’s almost enough to do it, but then he withdraws his hand and I whine forlornly. ‘Not yet, boy. I owe you a spanking.’ ‘B-but it hurts!’ I manage. ‘All the more reason,’ he says, a wicked grin forming on his lips. ‘Now come with me.’ He drags me into the bathroom, where he strips me and puts me in the shower. He rinses me off with hot water, then sits on the toilet and puts me over his knees. ‘I believe I owe you a spanking,’ he says, and then he smacks my ass, hard. I cry out. He smacks me again, and again. He’s not gentle or playful. It’s supposed to hurt. That pain is keeping me hard as steel, as he keeps spanking me. I’m sobbing, but he doesn’t stop. My cock rubs against the fabric of his jeans and I’m so close, but he’s told me I’m not allowed to come so I try to hold back. ‘Please!’ I manage. ‘I . . . I can’t . . . I’m about to—’ ‘No,’ he says calmly. ‘If you come, I’ll have to punish you more.’ And he smacks me again. I can’t stop it. My breath hitches in my throat, I sob, and then I come, spilling over his jeans. I immediately start to cry. ‘I’m sorry!’ I whine. ‘I . . . I couldn’t . . . I’m sorry . . .’ He sighs. ‘I’m disappointed in you. I thought you had more self-control. You should be ashamed of yourself!’ I am. I am ashamed. I’m ashamed at coming so easily. I’m ashamed that I like it when he hurts me. I’m ashamed that wetting myself made me this horny. And I’m ashamed that the shame itself makes me hot. I want him to humiliate me more. He lets go of me. ‘Get on your knees.’ I obey. I see the wet spot my cum made on his jeans as he stands before me. He unbuckles his belt, pulls out his cock. ‘Such a dirty, naughty boy. I’ll make you even dirtier.’ Then he takes aim and pees all over me. The scent is strong, potent. He’s been holding it for a while too, it seems. It gets in my hair, pours down my neck and face, shoulders, chest and back. Yes. This is what I deserve. When he’s finished, he grabs my chin roughly and tilts my face up. ‘Open your mouth.’ I do, and he spits in it. Then he strokes his cock a few times until it’s fully hard and thrusts into my open mouth. I take it. He thrusts in deep and I try to open my throat. I successfully fight my gag reflex and let him fuck my face. ‘I’m gonna come in your mouth,’ he says. ‘And you’re going to swallow it all.’ I grunt weakly in response, unable to speak or nod. It doesn’t take long. I swallow it all, just as he asks. When he pulls his cock out I’m panting and shaking and hard again. He pays no attention to my cock, but he pulls me to my feet, supporting my shaking frame as he leads me to the shower. He leaves me to rinse off while he runs a bath. He gets undressed and then we both get in the tub. He sits behind me, putting his arms around me, and finally he speaks again. ‘Good boy.’ I moan weakly. My cock is still hard, throbbing, but he hasn’t touched it so neither do I. He kisses the back of my neck, smoothes back my hair. ‘You did really well,’ he murmurs. ‘I’m so proud of you, boy. When we’re all clean, I’m gonna give you a reward.’ I nod weakly. I’m so tired, but also so horny. We stay like that for fifteen minutes or so and I nearly doze off. Then we get out of the bath and he towels us both off before leading me to his bedroom. ‘Get on the bed. Hands and knees.’ I do as I’m told and I feel him behind me. A slippery finger enters me, presses deep inside and massages my prostate. I whimper pathetically, pushing back on his finger out of pure instinct because I want more. He doesn’t punish me for that. This is my reward, after all. Then he pulls out his finger and replaces it with something much bigger. He pushes inside me with his big cock, filling me up, and I moan like a bitch. ‘Ah! Oh . . . f . . .’ He chuckles behind me. ‘You can say what you want now,’ he says. ‘Make as much noise as you like. There’s no need to keep it in.’ So, as he begins to move, I moan, ‘Ah, fuuuuuck!’ It feels so good, his big cock inside me, his fingers digging into my hips. He speeds up, fucking me hard, his dick brushing my prostate with every thrust until I’m shaking, shivering, my body on fire. ‘You gonna come on my cock, boy?’ he says hoarsely. He’s panting now. ‘Hm?’ ‘If . . .’ I swallow. ‘Am . . . am I allowed?’ ‘Yes,’ he whispers. He puts his hand between my shoulder blades, pressing me down until my head’s on the pillow, ass still in the air. He leans over me, bites the back of my neck. ‘Come for me like the little bitch you are.’ ‘Ah!’ I cry out and come untouched. He growls in my ear as my ass tightens around him. Then he grunts and stills for a moment before he starts pumping again. I feel him throbbing in there as he fills me with hot cum. He collapses on top of me and kisses the back of my neck. Then he rolls off me, pushes me over onto my side . . . and finally kisses my lips. It’s different from that drunken night weeks ago. His kiss is so gentle compared to everything else he’s done. So kind. I feel my eyes well up with tears. I’m so exhausted and overwhelmed. ‘Good boy,’ he whispers again. I breathe a shaky sigh. ‘Thank you,’ I mumble. ‘And grateful too.’ He smiles. ‘You’re perfect.’ I blink. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve been waiting for someone just like you. I could tell you to do just about anything and you’d do it. Wouldn’t you?’ I would. I’d do anything for him. I nod. He shakes his head. ‘Perfect.’ He strokes my cheek. ‘From now on,’ he says, ‘I decide everything. I decide when you get up and when you go to bed. I decide what you wear, what you eat, when you piss, when you shit. And I decide when you come. Understood?’ I nod. ‘I . . . yeah.’ ‘You will address me as “sir”.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ I say automatically. ‘Good boy. I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you what you need. Okay?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ I say again, my face feeling hot. I’m terrified, but this is also what I want. What I’ve always wanted. What I’ve wanted from him ever since the first time he playfully slapped my ass and called me ‘boy’. ‘Should . . . should we have a safeword?’ I ask after a while. ‘Do you want one?’ he asks. I consider this for a moment. ‘No,’ I say at last. ‘No, then it wouldn’t be real.’ He shakes his head, an expression akin to awe on his face. ‘Like I said. Utterly perfect.’
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