One of the Boys Part 3 – Piss Stains

Some time after the pissing contest, everyone else had gone, leaving Jim alone with the three other boys.  It was the same as last week, in that they continued their conversation as if Jim weren’t there.  Jim didn’t really mind, though he wasn’t really sure if Tommo knew that he was meant to be staying the night, so wondered whether he should mention this sometime soon.

One thing Jim did notice though was that not long after everyone had left, the trio began hooking into the beer with greater enthusiasm than before, Paul included. Jim only had three beers left, and was beginning to need to use the toilet, so couldn’t really increase his consumption.  After ten minutes of contemplation, Jim made up his mind, rose from the chair, and walked towards the pool house door, to go inside and use the toilet.

“Nah, you can’t use that one,” Pig said, his face devoid of his usual grin.  “Use the one in the house.”  Being the outsider, and not wanting to offend, Jim took everything he said at face value, and so walked off in the direction of the house.  As he walked away from the boys, he could hear Pig chuckling, and Tommo failing at stifling a laugh.  As he disappeared around the palm trees by the pool, he could hear the three of them burst out in laughter.  It was embarrassing, and Jim felt angry as he stepped inside the house.

Jim, of course, had no idea that while he was gone, and once they had stopped laughing, the trio of boys started talking about him, of all things.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Tommo started, openly annoyed.  “Just cos he’s my brother’s friend’s brother, doesn’t mean he can hang out with us.  He’s a tool.”  Pig laughed in response.

“I caught him looking at me the other week,” Paul said.

The other two knew instantly what he was talking about.  “Yeah,” Pig replied, “that’s cos you made it pretty fuckin’ obvious for him.  You and your fucking piss stains.”  He laughed again.

Tommo glared at Paul.  “You should’ve waited till he was gone, you dickhead.”

Paul shrugged.  “You know me, I just wanted to.  Besides, he was really looking at it, I mean, really.  Might be fun to mess with him a bit, see what he does, don’t ya reckon?”  He chuckled softly.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Pig added, laughing again.  He looked over at Tommo.

“It’s a stupid idea,” Tommo said.  “I don’t reckon you should do it.”  He took a long sip of his beer and stared off over the balcony.

“Suit yourself,” Paul replied, “But I’m making no promises.  You know me after a couple of beers.”  He laughed again, just as Jim rounded the corner, came up the steps and sat down again.  The laughter subsided, and the three boys resumed their normal conversation in ignorance of Jim.

Jim watched and listened in silence as he sipped on his fourth beer.  He was definitely annoyed at these three.  His eagerness to see if anything else piss-related might happen was replaced by embarrassment, and the realisation that no matter what happened here, these were still the same three cool guys that ignored him at school.

A short while later, Paul stood up and turned, making a point of looking at Jim in the eyes as he walked past and into the pool house.  The sound of a flush a minute later, steps, and the pool house door opened.  Suddenly reminded of why he hadn’t minded coming back here, Jim tried to resist looking at Paul’s crotch, but knew he wouldn’t be able to.  His eyes darted up.

There it was – just right of the fly, on Paul’s pale denim shorts, an unmistakeable piss spot, as big as the lid of a jam jar, and starting to curve towards the bottom of the stain in a tear drop, like there was a good flow of piss when it happened.  Jim felt the same twinge in his balls as last time.  This time, the look between him and Paul was as unmistakeable as the piss on his pants; he knew.  Tommo glanced at Paul, shook his head subtly from side to side with an expression of annoyance, and sipped on his beer again.  Pig tried not to laugh.

All this did was confim Jim’s suspicion – this was no accident.  Paul was doing this on purpose.  Did that mean he shared the same fetish?  Jim ached to know, but knew it was impossible to talk about it.  He let it drop, hiding his bemused expression by sipping his beer.

Not long later, Pig got up and stretched, his pudgy gut peeking out over the top of his pale green rugby shorts.  “Gotta piss,” he said, but instead of heading inside, walked down the steps, and back behind the shed.  Must be his piss spot, Jim thought.  Obviously not a big fan of the toilet.  A minute later, and Pig returned, fell heavily into the chair, his legs wide apart.  Jim could see it right on the seam down the centre of his pants, an irregular shaped dark spot of wetness, running right up the middle of his crotch.  Pig too, had pissed a little in his pants.  This time it was Paul who chuckled.  Tommo again looked annoyed, then he shook his head again, but this time his face split into a grin.

Pig, too?  What about Tommo?  Jim began to suspect that maybe they were both into it, and because they were such a tight-knit group, who clearly weren’t grossed out by things like this, were completely comfortable with it all.  It was completely unbelievable, and yet here was the evidence right in front of him.

Jim finished his fifth beer, and having broken the seal, was already feeling like he really needed to pee again. He didn’t want to have to trudge all the way back over to the house.  He also didn’t want to go and piss on the shed wall, in case Pig had some kind of territorial thing over it (it wouldn’t surprise me, thought Jim).  Reluctantly, Jim got up, went straight for the pool house door, and walked inside.  No-one seemed to mind this time, as no-one said anything.

Jim went into the toilet and shut the door.  He was definitely feeling the effects of the booze now.  As he took his cock out and began pissing, a strange feeling of desire washed over him – he wanted to be like them.  He wanted to piss in his pants in front of them.  What a stupid idea, he thought.  I can’t do that, not in front of other people.  At the same time, though, he longed for their acceptance, and that seemed to be one way of achieving it.  He wrenched with the idea of putting his cock away early and leaking a little in his pants, as he often did at home, but ultimately sense won out this time.  He finished pissing, and put his cock back in his pants without shaking.  He felt a few drops of piss seep out and soak into his underwear; it felt nice on the tip of his dick.  He pushed out a little more, and felt some more warmth.  And again.  It felt great.  He looked down.  Just a tiny wet spot on the front of his denim shorts, no bigger than a coin.  Not that noticeable.  He flushed and went outside again.

It was Pig who looked at Jim’s crotch as he stepped outside.  Pig chuckled, unimpressed with the small size and lack of visibility of Jim’s wet spot.  In the group’s eyes, it seemed to be a pathetic attempt.

Jim opened his final beer, and took a quick sip.  No-one said anything, so either they didn’t notice, or they didn’t care.  He wasn’t sure, but was mostly glad that nothing had been made of it – despite his confidence while alone in the toilet, when outside in front of the others, his heart was racing with fear and anticipation of how they might react.

Minutes later, Tommo got up, and went inside to use the toilet as well.  Jim waited anxiously – Tommo was the leader, and if there was anything that might confirm or deny Jim’s suspicions, it was the leader’s actions.  If Tommo wet himself as well, then it was obvious that they all knew about and engaged in wetting together.  That prospect, to Jim, was very exciting.

Tommo stepped outside.  He was wearing cream coloured cargo shorts.  And there, to the left, a round piss spot, not quite as big as that on Paul’s when he had exited, but with a giant stream of darkness that ran down the inside of his pant leg to the seam in a straight line.  A piss spot if ever Jim had seen one.  His heart jumped excitedly.  It was true.  They all pissed their pants.  And they all did it in front of eachother.

Jim suddenly decided (helped of course, by his growing inebriation) that he had to do it too.  And more obviously than before.  He had to show them that he knew.  And that he wanted to as well.  He was suddenly desperate for their acceptance.  He began downing his final beer as quickly as he could, hoping for his bladder to quickly fill.  It obliged.

Twenty mintues later, no more beer, and now needing to piss, Jim went back into the toilet in the pool house.  On the floor by the base of the toilet bowl there was a small round puddle of piss – must have been from the stream that ran down Tommo’s leg.  Now wanting it even more, Jim stood in front of the bowl, wanting to piss – but didn’t remove his cock.  Instead, he tried to let it out in his pants.

His fear was holding him back – he couldn’t relax, no matter how much he wanted to.  His inner alarm, and all that was left of his sobriety, was trying to stop him.  He wanted to overrule it – but couldn’t.  Sighing, he took his dick out, and started pissing into the toilet.  As he neared the end, an idea struck him, and he stopped mid-stream, put it back in his pants, zipped up, and released.

Warmth flooded his underwear and around his balls.  Feeling the sheer joy of pissing himself again, Jim began pushing more and more, trying to squeeze more piss out of his bladder and into his pants.  After a few pushes and a few more squirts, he looked down to inspect the damage.

If his previous stain wasn’t very noticeable, this one definitely was.  It covered the entire of the middle of his crotch, and halfway down his right leg.  It was big, dark, and wet.  And it felt good.

Horror suddenly struck Jim, as he realised what he’d done.  There was no going back.  He had to go out and reveal what he’d done.  He was suddenly afraid.  It took him a few minutes of nervous pacing to gain the courage, and do the inevitable.  There was nothing else he could do now. He went back outside.

Jim felt three sets of eyes burning into him – or more specifically, his crotch.  “Yeah, boooy!” Pig shouted, with a whoop of laughter.  Paul simply smiled.  At the sight of Jim’s pants Tommo said nothing, but responded by reaching into his cooler, and tossing Jim a beer.  Jim was lucky to catch it, not being all that good at sports.  It was symbolic of the acceptance he had been craving so badly.  Tommo had offered him a beer.

For the remainder of the night, the four boys drank, and pissed themselves bit by bit.  Jim would go into the toilet and do the same as before, catching the end of his stream in his pants, but as he got drunker and drunker, he would get more and more daring, letting in more and more, the wet patch getting bigger, wetter and darker each time.  His head swirled in a confusing mix of drunkenness and pleasure.  The night wore on, he became less and less aware of what he was doing, and the next thing he knew, it was bright, and it was morning.

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