Mark’s story; the diary of an unlucky man


Mark was in serious trouble. Traffic wasn’t moving, but the logjam in his butt was trying to. The laxative he had taken this morning was finally beginning to work on the giant grogan that had been building in his ass for almost three days. He started to feel the pressing need at work today, but because he knew it was going to be a long and painful battle, he decided to wait it out; to get home and release the beast in his own bathroom. Big mistake. He hadn’t counted on traffic.

Beads of sweat were building up under the red golf hat that he always wore out of vanity because it covered the fact that his hair was thinning. It bothered him more than others around him. To many he was considered virile and extremely handsome; his broad shoulders and stocky, meaty build radiated sexuality. Even though he had a small gut on him, in every other way his body still reflected the athletic prowess of his youth. The smoldering, dark eyes, olive skin, and goatee lightly flecked with gray were amazingly appealing on his frame. He wore a pair of 501’s better than most men half his age. The golf shirts he always paired with them told of his interest in the game and showed off his still impressive upper arms.

Damn! Why did he decide to leave work without relieving himself first? He should have known traffic would be bad. He should have realized that, considering the distance to his home out in the country, it was going to take him well over an hour to reach his front door. To make matters worse, his bladder was now protesting loudly. He tried to calm down, to relax a little bit, but after a few minutes his predicament became even more obvious. He was going to need a bathroom and soon.

Traffic wasn’t helping. He hadn’t moved at all in the last ten minutes. The full feeling in his backside was getting serious. It felt as if the only thing that was keeping him from dropping a log right then and there was the fact that his buns were firmly planted on the seat of his SUV. He moaned softly as he grabbed his ample crotch with increasing desperation and squeezed. His cock shaft was burning with unreleased piss.

Finally the cars in front of him were starting to move. He gauged his move, swerved around the traffic in front of him, and romped on the gas pedal of his Toyota 4 Runner, its body panels quickly becoming nothing more than a burgundy flash to those around whom he flew. Maybe he could just make it after all. He had erased more distance in the last two minutes than he had in the last 45.

He heard the siren before he saw it in his rear view mirror. This HAD to be a sick joke played on him by the cosmos. Here he was, bursting with waste, and getting pulled over for speeding. Another ten minutes as the ticket was written. He didn’t say anything to the cop, but he was sure the expression on his face and the desperate fidgeting had given away his secret. The sadistic cop seemed to enjoy prolonging the process. Damned fucker is probably busting a woody thinking about me fighting this the rest of the way home, he thought to himself. He took the ticket and squeezed himself as he drove away. He sped up as soon as he was out of sight of the cop. His exit was coming up in a short distance, and he feared he wasn’t going to make it. He bit his lip to try to take his mind off the growing discomfort he was feeling.

As he began to negotiate his exit, a spasm racked his bladder with pain. He felt a small spurt of pee shoot into the fabric of his FTL’s. At the same time, a fart escaped his anguished backside. He groaned loudly and stepped on the gas. The convenience store was close. He stood little chance of making it home with his underwear intact if he didn’t stop to use their facilities. The last four miles of his journey past that was all bumpy dirt road, and he feared the jarring ride would cause him to lose control.

He tore into the convenience store parking lot and raced inside to the back, clutching himself. The door was locked. Damn, damn, he thought to himself. He stood there for a couple minutes, fidgeting. Finally a little boy emerged. He flew through the door, and what he saw caused his heart to sink. Although the sink and urinal were in their places, the toilet was completely gone! The handwritten sign on the wall said it had broken and was being replaced… tomorrow. He knew if he stood at the urinal and tried to piss, he would lay a loaf into the butt of his jeans. He raced from the bathroom back to his vehicle and hopped in, tearing out of the parking lot as fast as possible.

The last few miles of the trip home were sheer agony. The truck was vibrating harshly; every shake resonating in the anguished bowels and bladder of the studly driver. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, home was visible in the rapidly dimming light of day. He tore up the driveway, hitting the garage door button and skidding to a stop halfway in the garage. He jumped out of the SUV and stumbled to the door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket and grabbing himself desperately. He tried to stick the key in the lock, but he was shaking so badly that he dropped the ring on the garage floor. The act of bending over to pick them up made the waistband of his Levi’s press hard into his lower abdomen. He felt another burning spurt of piss escape into his skivvies. His ass was slowly opening, trying to expel the huge brown object lodged within it.

A dark shadow passed quickly along the door in front of him. He felt the gun barrel against the back of his head as soon as he stood up. “Don’t move,” the deep, raspy voice said. “Put your hands behind your back. Now”! There was no choice but to comply. Getting shot didn’t seem to be an option, no matter how badly he needed to go. He let go of his crotch and reluctantly placed his hands behind him. He felt the cuffs snap in place just as another wave of pain hit him in the gut. He realized that, with his wrists now locked securely behind his back, he was helpless, extremely desperate, and totally at the mercy of the man that was burglarizing his home. The manner in which he relieved himself, toilet or pants, was now up to someone else.

As the robber removed the ring of keys from his palm, he begged for relief. “Please, I have to use the bathroom…NOW! I’m really desperate. I can’t hold it much longer!”

“Get your fucking ass inside, and shut the fuck up!” The robber seemed not to care that this hunk of man was about to lose control of his bodily functions and mess himself. He pushed Mark roughly through the door into the laundry room. Mark could see the half-bath off to his right. Relief was so close, yet he couldn’t get to it. “I’m begging you, please! The bathroom’s right there. It’ll only take a minute. Oh, God, I gotta go so bad!” He was involuntarily doing a major pee dance. He was squirming around like a fish on a line as he squeezed and released his legs, trying to control himself. He pulled fruitlessly at the cuffs, mentally willing them to release or break, his torso swinging back and forth as he did so.

The robber seemed intrigued by this predicament. Although Mark had not seen him, he could tell that he was a big man and athletically built, judging from the way he had been manhandled through the door. The helpless stud could feel the kidnapper’s hot breath on his ear as he leaned in from behind and whispered, “All that struggling’s giving me a big ole boner. I’m gonna get so turned on if you piss yourself, I just might have to plug you up the poop chute.”

Mark froze with fear. He was straight! Getting a load as large as the one in his rectum pushed in by some dude’s dick had to be agonizing. The robber seemed to sense this thought and added, “Yeah, turd punching your full ass would be hot! Betcha never had the shit fucked into you before, huh.”

Mark cried out softly, “No,” as he shook his head. He was grabbed forcefully by the shoulders and roughhoused into the half-bath. The unseen burglar pushed him in front of the toilet and raised the seat. “Let’s see you go, baby. C’mon, get them jeans down and use the bathroom like you said you have to.” The robber chuckled to himself as he watched Mark struggle frantically to try and control himself. He knew it wouldn’t be long before this battle was lost. Mark’s face was bright red. Sweat poured down his face and dripped from his goatee. The brim of his cap was soaked. Tears of agony and humiliation poured from his tightly closed eyes. He could feel that the cuffs securing his arms were tight to his wrists. He stood no chance in hell of reaching around and trying to undo his 501’s. He was helpless, and they both knew it.

Large calloused, rough hands felt him up, grabbing him by the crotch and rubbing up and down his ass crack. His usually small beer belly was even more distended from the fullness in his gut. He threw his head back, hitting it on the shoulder of the taller man behind him. His cockshaft was on fire. Small bursts of hot, smelly piss began shooting out, dampening his crotch and beginning to drip down his legs. They grew to a steady, hissing stream, soaking his underwear, and running down his pant legs into his boots. His ass was expanding; flowering open in an attempt to free the large turd contained within his tortured bowels. Just as it started to prairie dog, it came to a stop!. The pain was overwhelming, and he cried out in agony. The monster was too big, too hard. He bore down in an attempt to move it, but it hurt too much. He farted loudly. Mark could feel the hard-on of the man behind him pressing into his palms. My God, it was huge! He knew if that thing went into his ass, he would burst.

Finally, the pissing stopped. He could feel the man rubbing his crotch, massaging the last drops out of his dick. The rapidly cooling, smelly liquid had thoroughly soaked him down both legs. His boots were full of it. There was also a large, yellow puddle on the linoleum under his feet. Although the pain in his bladder was now eased, his anus was burning and stinging from the grogan stuck in it. His ass ring felt like it was pushed a foot apart. It couldn’t hurt worse if someone were trying to hammer a phone pole in there. Nothing was moving. It was firm and huge ,and it was prairie-dogged between his butt cheeks.

“Oh, God! Please don’t do this!” Mark was crying out to his captor, begging him not to pop his fudge-filled cherry. “Shut the fuck up,” the intruder replied. He grabbed Mark roughly by the bicep and shoved him out the door of the lavatory into the adjoining laundry room. “This should shut you up,” he stated as he grabbed a roll of duct tape off the shelf above the dryer. Mark heard the ripping sound of the tape being peeled. The end was slapped over his mouth suddenly. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath through them. The roll of tape was passed around his head three or four times, securely sealing his mouth. “Mmmmph” was the only sound he could make. He was shaking his head violently, trying to non-verbally beg his captor to stop.

“Move!” He was shoved brutally out into the kitchen, through the entry and toward the stairs, each step causing him to waddle because of the incredible fullness in his butt. Every movement brought increasing discomfort. As he was pushed up the stairs, he continued to bear down on the hardness in his bowels, attempting to pass it before the inevitable happened. If he could shit it out before they got upstairs, the threatened ass-fucking would be not quite so painful and humiliating. The only thing moving through the seat of his jeans, however, was gas. He farted a couple of times as he pushed, causing an evil snicker from his kidnapper.

At the top of the stairs, he was forced roughly to the left, through the door of the master bedroom, over to the foot of the large brass bed. He was made to kneel on the padded bench, facing the foot board. His hat was temporarily removed as his very expensive golf shirt and tee shirt underneath were pulled up over his head and behind his neck, where they remained as his hands were still cuffed behind him. This exposed his broad back and large, hairy chest and belly.

He could feel rough hands feeling him up, running down his back and arms, then reaching around to the front, accompanied by horny moans of approval. He could feel the heat of the body behind him radiating onto his back as the robber moved his hands down to his distended stomach. He felt pressure as his overstuffed belly was cruelly pressed in. He cried through the gag and cut another one into the seat of his 501’s.

Mark was pushed forward against the top rail of the cold brass, its length cutting brutally into his midsection. He could hear the tape being unwound again and felt it pass back and forth across his lower back as it was wrapped around the posts on either side of him. After seven or eight passes, he was bound securely to the bed. He then felt his ankles being taped together just above his tan work boots. He was completely immobile, totally helpless, extremely uncomfortable, and very aware that it was about to get much worse.

He sensed movement. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught his captor entering the master bathroom and heard the sound of drawers being opened and cabinet doors slamming shut. It was obvious he was looking for something. After a moment, the light went out. Mark shut his eyes, bracing himself for what he knew was to come. Once again, the robber was behind him. He felt arms reach around and roughly begin undoing the buttons of his jeans. The damp denim was forcibly yanked down below his buttocks. His piss-soaked underwear was also pulled down over his large, well developed thighs. His captor said nothing; he let his hands and heavy breathing speak for him. Mark felt those hands rubbing over his naked, hairy ass. The fingers worked their way between his sweaty butt cheeks. He heard a sucking sound as the sadistic man spit-lubed his middle finger and began to finger fuck the helpless stud with it. Mark’s body jerked against the bindings as he screamed through the tape. He felt pain he had never known before as the large digit was pushed up his rectum, not into the middle of his turd, but alongside it, next to his anal wall. As the finger entered him further, it hit a pocket of gas, causing it to exit his hole with a pronounced “pfft.” He grit his teeth so hard against the pain, he thought they would crack.

After a couple of minutes, the finger was withdrawn. He became aware of the sound of a zipper being undone, followed by a snapping sound. He immediately recognized it as the lid of a jar of Vasoline. That must have been what he was looking for in the bathroom. Tears were streaming down his face over the duct tape on his mouth. He didn’t want this to happen. He pulled and tugged against the tape, to no avail. What was in store for him was worse than he could possibly imagine.

White lights exploded in his brain. Every pain receptor in his body fired with full force. His eyes squeezed shut tightly as his head flailed back and forth. He became aware of an animal-like howl in the room; it took a second before he realized it was coming through the tape over his own mouth. An almost explosive feeling of fullness enveloped his gut as his poop was being forced back inside him mercilessly. Every inch it went in hurt a thousand times more. He wished he could pass out so he didn’t have to endure any more. He felt as though he was being ripped apart. His strong, well built body pulled violently against the bed frame. His captor plugged his ass furiously, grunting and moaning with increasing fury. He felt the man buck violently against his ass cheeks, letting out an almost inhuman moan as he shot his huge load into the middle of Mark’s turd. After a moment of rest, he felt the man’s prick pulling out of his hole. The man whispered hoarsly into his ear to squeeze down against it as he removed it. Although it hurt desperately to do so, Mark complied. When it popped free, he felt his shorts and jeans being pulled back up and refastened. The sound of footsteps moved away, towards the door and down the stairs. Mark heard the front door close and knew he was alone in the house.

His relief was short lived. Still firmly fastened to the bed frame, the Vasoline and sperm in his ass were acting as a lubricant on his shit, making it very difficult to hold in. He knew that he was going to have to go very soon, but quickly realized there wasn’t a possible way he could get loose. His nostrils flared as he grunted and moaned through the tape over his mouth. The pain was indescribable. The huge shit-log in his butt began forcing its way out. He screamed through his gag, tears running down his reddened cheeks, as it hit the inside of his shorts. It slowed as it hit the resistance of his 501’s, pushing against the seat-seam and lumping out to the right side, down his leg. When that one finally broke off, another one started coming; four in all. When he finally stopped, his head collapsed in exhaustion. He was totally spent. His beautiful seat bulged with waste.

When he didn’t show up to work the next morning, his young assistant, Scott, drove to his home to check on him. Discovering the garage door ajar, he entered the house and made his way upstairs. He burst into the bedroom just as Mark began peeing himself yet again, the smelly yellow liquid dripping from his crotch as the young man rushed to his assistance. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he felt hardness brush against his packed, damp jeans as his hunky co-worker removed the tape from Mark’s battered and used body…

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  1. i like it how he shit himself.ratings 5 out of 5

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