Peter felt his gut aching and his bladder throbbing as he looked at the approaching bus in dismay. It was the last of the night, and he hadn’t relieved his bowels for a good few days. He had no choice as far as restrooms go, and a long busride ahead of him. He had already had to clench his cheeks a few times, and was in this state when the bus arrived. Peter was squeezing his cheeks together with all his might as the bus approached, far from happy when his gut gave a new rumble to match the rumble of the bus’s engine. He had to regain control enough to unclench so he could get on the bus, and the fear of messing that up did not help his situation. His phone vibrated with an alert, probably his boyfriend Kyle offering reassurance with regards to holding in his bathroom needs.
He was fortunate that he had a boyfriend who would be understanding and nonchalant about these matters should the worst happen. Kyle made it clear to Peter that it was no big deal to him whatsoever to have accidents, all the way back on their first date when he was having a rather intense bathroom emergency after watching a long movie. If that didn’t make it clear enough, he even encouraged Peter to just leak in his pants instead of hurting himself trying to hold it. This culminated in the both of them taking that advice, at first involuntarily as they each wound up having accidents and pissing themselves during the heavy traffic, then almost gleefully, seeing as neither saw a point in waiting for a bathroom when you’ve already made one out of your pants. For the rest of the car ride they just freely whizzed in their drawers at the slightest urge, each peeing their pants multiple times before arriving home soaked and cozy.
Peter grimaced as he recalled this and stepped onto the bus, his bottom urge having subsided long enough for him to get on and wave his pass to the driver. He hurriedly waddled to a seat, for sure feeling something sticky between his cheeks, likely leaving marks in his white briefs. He checked his phone as he sat down, hoping that being pressed against a seat would prevent anything from escaping.
“just try 2 hold on sweetie. its gonna be okay, remember its not a big deal if you make it okay- try not to stress out or hurt urself and its no big deal if u end up pooping your pants. try not to, but its okay if u do. ❤”
He sighed to himself, figuring he’d get a response like that. The message Kyle was responding to said that he wasn’t sure if he could make it home in time, but now that he’d sat down he was nearly completely certain that he would not make it to a bathroom in time. Despite Kyle’s reassurances and their past, he was still terrified; they were alone on that first date when he wet his pants, and though there were a few instances of private laziness where Kyle or Peter decided to just piss in their jeans instead of pausing their chores or activities to find a proper restroom, this was the first time he was facing full-on messing his pants, and he was in public where people would see him void his bladder as well or be disturbed by the smell of his accident. Luckily, this being later at night, there weren’t that many people on this bus.
“thanks, i’ll try my best”
Peter hit send, and his attention returned to the pressing weight within him. His stomach ached, his bladder throbbed, and he felt pangs of intensity through every part of his bowels as he struggled. He was shaking with both the effort of holding it and the anxiety of facing a public pants accident. He moaned to himself as he threw his head back against the seat and looked out the window. It hurt so fucking bad. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of the pain, rhythmic in its waves of intensity. He knew it was probably gonna be fairly solid whenever he was gonna end up taking the dump, so there was that. He had to shit so bad.
Roughly ten minutes passed. He had focused literally every bit of energy into holding in his mess. Clutching the seat for dear life, he was sweating all over and literally shaking with effort as he continued the balancing act of maintaining control of both his bladder and bowels simultaneously. It wouldn’t work much longer.
It was around this time that Peter began to feel a pair of eyes watching him. However, having been distracted by his efforts, he was a bit late on this discovery. Across the aisle from him sat a man. Rather burly, he appeared to be in his mid-to-late 30s and of a somewhat stout but bulky stature. What had particularly grabbed Peter’s attention was that the man had one of his hairy arms reaching down between his crotch, hands pulsating as the man was fidgeting and grabbing his crotch. The man had been in quite a similar state, and had been glancing at Peter periodically since he’d entered the bus. One hand moved from his crotch to his stomach. Catching Peter glancing at him and unintentionally making eye-contact, the man flashed Peter a smile and a nod through his grimace.
While initially feeling a weight of anxiety of people seeing him in this position, upon not-very-much examination he could see the man was fighting the same fight he was. With the man’s nod and smile, he felt a sense of camaraderie. Him and his fellow man, both desperate for a bathroom in public, and both running out of options. He met this nod with a mutual smile.
“Hey,” Peter managed through gritted teeth. The man replied.
“Sorry for peakin’, but as you can see… I’m in the same boat right now,” He followed this with a sort of grunt-like chuckle. His voice was gruff, but had the fragility of a man with shaking, weakened muscles on the verge of soiling his trousers.
“Or bus?” Peter replied. He reacted with a smile
“Careful not to make me laugh, but yeah.” the man grinned and adjusted himself, then visibly winced. “Oof, you gotta do both too?” Peter somewhat shyly recoiled at the question, before looking back at him to answer.
“Yep,” Peter replied. He knew his voice didnt sound confident, and he knew the other man noticed as well.
“Sounds like you might not make it huh?” Peter recoiled again, and didn’t answer. “Don’t worry bud, I might not either. Already leaked a bit even.”
Peter’s defenses lowered at this. He nervously looked up, feeling another cramp. “Yeah, not sure what to do – Never been in this position before and I’m, well…. Uh……” He struggled to find his words, feeling too embarrassed to acknowledge the indecency he was about to commit out loud.
“Listen, don’t worry about it,” The man replied, sensing Peter’s shyness. Being an older fella than Peter, he had some more experience with these kinds of things. A silence ensued (save for the fidgeting and bus engine), before he had a thought. He leaned in towards Peter and spoke in a somewhat quieter voice. “Word of advice though, if you’re gonna lose both – make sure you piss first. That way it doesnt mix in with the other and the mess is a little less rough on the seat.”
As Peter heard this, he involuntarily grimaced again as his stomach dropped once more. As the man’s words met his ear, he felt his rear end dilate. He was already starting to go. He felt a slightly warm mass wedge its way between his cheeks, only a tiny bit but enough to know he’d begun the process of losing it. He already knew he wouldn’t make it, but the finality of it all was hitting him now: He wasn’t gonna make it in time.
Following this small bit of mass, he managed to clench himself shut again enough for the strained expression to leave his face and for him to heed the other man’s advice. He looked over across the aisle again.
“It’s alright, watch,” the man said, as he removed his hands from the crotch of his boot cut blue jeans, revealing an already-wet spot roughly the size of two quarters. He looked at Peter, and some of the tension left his grimacing face, turning to a grin. Resigned to his fate, the man began to piss in his pants. While the hiss of urine meeting the fabric of the once-white briefs underneath couldn’t be heard over the sounds of the bus, the blast hitting the denim outside could be seen immediately. A sheen washed over the area of his crotch where the previous wet spots were, and immediately the darkness of the fabric spread outwards, down his rear and slightly down his bulging, muscular thighs. Within a couple seconds a rivulet was running off the seat and dripping to the floor as he freely pissed himself.
Peter moved his gaze down to his own crotch. He needed to pee quite badly, but his bowels needed emptying even moreso, so this was going to be a bit of a struggle. Feeling the tiny bit of crap wedged between his cheeks, he tried to relax enough for his urine to flow. However, immediately he felt his rear end open up and he started shitting more. He quickly felt the solid but malleable mass grow between his cheeks, warming and spreading his cheeks farther apart. He clamped down again as hard as he could. He realized he would have to physically clench his cheeks in order to pull this off, a task becoming more difficult as the process of soiling himself so far had left more and more mass between the cheeks he intended to clamp shut. The pain in his bowels was enormous as he cut off the flow of his movement, leaving roughly a tennis ball sized mass in the seat of his drawers.
After he got his movement under control again and held off crapping his pants for a moment, he figured an adjustment in posture was to be made. Being in the seat, in order to keep his cheeks clenched required him to raise his butt off the seat, then arch his back in a particularly uncomfortable way in order to get it straight enough to physically clamp his trembling cheeks shut. Doing this, he forced the mass between his cheeks out as the flesh met flesh, and he felt the warm mess move outward and spread across the outer parts of his cheeks. If he could see, this displacement created a noticeable bulge in the back of his pants. But he couldn’t be concerned with that now.
Finally, with his cheeks clenched and his midsection straight, he began to finally start pissing. He felt his ass open again, but his clamped, trembling cheeks held the shit back for now. His crotch grew warm as he watched his jeans darken, urine slowly coming out of him and not providing any relief yet. His odd positioning had the effect of squeezing his thighs together, creating a rivulet for his pee to run down his legs. He felt this warmth as the darkness in his pants quickly ran down his thighs, then slowly began spreading outward more and more. His panting slowed a bit as he could finally take the leak he’d been wanting to take for so long. His position forced him to push a little bit, something that would be an issue from behind if it weren’t that the previous amounts of shit he’d lost had dampened the urge for the moment.
Delicately keeping his cheeks clenched, he began to push as he whizzed further into his pants. Piss was running down his shins into his shoes now, and had begun seeping downwards under his ass and thighs, pooling on the seat. It was like the bus and the entire situation didn’t exist for a moment, all he could focus on was relieving himself. If he’d have looked he would’ve seen the other man leaning to the side with one leg and his rear and slightly lifted, scrunching his face as he had finished peeing himself and was now filling up his briefs in the back. The man’s still semi-seated position was causing the crap to be pushed and spread much further as it met resistance in the seat, cushioning his thighs more as it seeped out the leg bands of his briefs.
Peter had no notice of this of course, as he’d pissed for about 45 seconds now. He felt done, but knew from his full bladder that he only emptied a bit and would likely be desperate again when he got home. But for now, he’d peed his pants and he was rid of what he needed to be rid of. Exhausted from the effort, he relaxed and plopped back down into the seat, feeling the squelch from both his urine and the crap already in his pants. With the unclenching of his cheeks, the process of crapping himself resumed only to immediately be met with the resistance of the seat. He wasn’t pushing, so though his anus was dilated and he could tell his bowels were ready, it wasn’t going anywhere in particular. In order to properly crap his pants, he’d have to lift himself a bit.
He did this, and in a state of ecstasy felt total relaxation. He started shitting, feeling the mass in his undies rapidly grow, hearing faintly over the bus engine the sounds coming from his pants, cackling and coiling as his crap piled up upon itself. Bulging, bubbling outward as the space was filled with the warm, cake-y substance. Rapidly filling more and more space, between his thighs, beneath his cheeks, up his crack and under his balls. He felt his jeans and underwear growing heavier and heavier as he pooped his pants, euphoric as more and more shit was packed into his already-loaded and full drawers. He was only about halfway done pooping.
For a moment it stopped as the first mass finished, but more logs were to come. Peter sighed of relief and relaxation, giving zero resistance as more feces began to open his anus again. He pushed a little and resumed soiling himself, not caring anymore about the smell or where he was or that he was shitting right into his pants in public. He just pushed and felt the expanding mass flow out of him as he continued pooping his pants. Bubbles of gas escaped between, leaving squeaks and crackles as audible signals to anyone who heard that he had failed to get to a bathroom, and was now using the bathroom in his pants. The bulge was nearly the size of a small melon as he felt himself ready to unload the last part of his bowel movement. His pants were warm and heavy, drooping and stained. Almost gleefully he pushed out the last bit of mess, and he was done. He’d fully pooped in his pants.
Feeling his senses return, he looked across again at the other man, himself noticeably looking more relaxed, sitting back down and smiling at Peter. Peter flashed a grin and began to sit himself back down. The smell had him, and though he and the other man clearly stank, it was tolerable.
Before he felt his ass touch the seat, his drooping load hit it first. He slowly sat himself down, surprised at he sensation as his accident was flattened and forced to spread in every direction it could, feeling the warm shit in all new places, even feeling it pile up between his legs and lift his balls up.
“Better out than in, huh?” The man spoke to him. “By the way, the name’s Jim.”
“Yeah, and Peter,” He extended a hand to Jim.
“Nice to meet you, crazy circumstance to do it, huh?” Jim reached out and shook Peter’s hand.
“Well, it happens to everyone I suppose.” Peter replied with a devious grin. The eye contact lingered for a little longer than expected. It was at this point he realized how rock fucking hard he was. Jim saw the slight glint in Peter’s eye and smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe we should exchange numbers or something? Meet up and get to know each other?”
Peter paused for a minute and smiled. “Yeah, maybe we should.”
As Peter reached for his (thankfully encased) phone, it vibrated with a message from Kyle.
“hows it going?”
Peter smirked as he read it
“more like “went” ??????”
“didnt make it?”
“yeah, i just pooped and peed my pants on the bus. crazy thing is not just me, i think i’ve made us both a new friend ??”
Peter hit send, exchanged numbers with Jim, then relaxed as he enjoyed the rest of his ten minute ride home. The warmth and softness comforting him the whole way.