The guy who likes spandex gets in trouble.

The guy who likes spandex gets in trouble

Fictional, Themes of hetero-erotic fetishes, gay encounter, desperation, wetting.

It was a summer day in 2005.  Jared had turned 24 the week prior.  He felt that he was sort of old for birthday parties, but he still took it in.  His parents bought him a GPS because his last one fell in a river.  His girlfriend bought him silver reflective low rise swim briefs because they shopped together on ebay one night.  They know all too well what each other likes and no one else either.  So he does have a little bit of a spandex fetish.  Different kinds too, just for keeping things interesting.  He remembers that line in “Stripes” where Bill Murray says that thing about women liking interesting underwear.  But he likes it too and being seen wearing it, by anybody; the more interesting then the better it is.

For himself, he bought a red wrestling singlet.  He was a close fit.  Being size 32, he was somewhere around medium, but he aimed for small just to make it a little tighter, which he liked.  He wanted to wear it hiking in the National Forest.  That would be his present for himself.  It arrived on Thursday and he wanted to wear it this next weekend with his girlfriend.  They had a game they would play.  He’d wear an interesting underwear, show it a little bit when he was sitting and his girlfriend would see what he was wearing that day.  She’d reach in, through the top or the leg, and well, things would go from there.

Turned out she couldn’t make it.  Exam 1 for her summer Differential Equations class was on Tuesday and she was already behind on homework.  He offered to help her, “after the lovin'” but she knew better than that.  It would really end up that they’d swim in a creek, head back and eat at Applebee’s in the city 50 miles away.  Jared decided to go on his own, without Melissa.  He filled his daypack with the usual supplies.  Two water bottles, food, batteries, the new GPS he wanted to play with and a bag of candy in case his hypoglycemia got out of hand.

He put on the singlet and stood in the mirror, “Damn, I look good. I wish the whole world could dress like this so I wouldn’t look odd.”, he said to his reflection.  He put on some black soccer shorts over them and a loose triathlon shirt over the top.  Hiking shoes and socks on, he jumped into the ’92 Corolla, known as the “car that won’t die”.

It took two hours to get to the trailhead.  The trail that crosses Stevenson National Forest is 85 miles long.  Lot’s of ridge walking and sometimes the trail lowers to the side of the ridge a couple hundred feet, but nothing too severe in elevation change that he wasn’t used to.  They sky was clear and dry so he got to see the full view around him.  He took a final gulp of the two liter bottle he always keeps on the passenger floorboard, locked the doors and got on his way.

The tightness of his outfit was comforting to him.  He hated baggy clothes and never wore them, not even in high school when the baggiest pants were all the rage.  He was the cowboy in the room of the gangstas, he was the athlete in a world of sloths.  But he was excited that he was doing something different than usual, just for himself.  After a while, he forgot that he was wearing it.  To Alton’s Cabin to was heading.  He’d be there by 3:00, stay an hour and turn back and he should be back at the car by 8 or 9pm.

He came up to a man sitting on a rock and started talking.  Robert, who was a franchisee of three McDonalds restaurants entered into conversation.  “Really, I’m heading to Alton’s Cabin too.  Got my metal detector in my pack too.  I heard a guy found a Dover Iron near the sunken place up there.  Who knows, maybe I’ll find some old coins myself.  This guy was just poking with a stick and there it was.”

Jared suspected that his acquaintance was gay and was sort of put off by that.  He never wanted to admit he was homophobic, but he did pull his shorts down frequently to hide the red by his knees, but it was pointless and practically impossible to hide.  He finished half of his first bottle and stood up.  He had little to worry about so the two walked towards the cabin site.

As Jared walked, “Damn, I really got to piss or something. That first bottle is working on me.”  He didn’t want to stop the trek for both of them so he kept on walking.  The walking helped ease the urge, and occasionally, he’d forget he had to go.  Robert stopped, “I got a splinter in my foot.”  When he pulled off the Birkenstocks, Jared suspected for sure he was gay.

Robert pulled of the sandals and Jared stood there when the bladder tensed and he excused himself.  He walked a ways off to pee, but couldn’t get so far away that he couldn’t be seen.  He pulled the front of his shorts down and said to himself, “fuck…”.  He forgot that he had that singlet on underneath.  He’d have to take the shirt off and slide the top of the singlet too his waist and pee over the top.  His dick wasn’t long enough to make it down the leg either; he tried that for a few seconds.  He tried to build up the courage to try peeing through the singlet, so he pulled his dick and balls over the top of the shorts, and then chickened out.  He hadn’t wet himself since he was in the 3rd grade and remembered it dripping off his ankles.  “Oh hell no, I ain’t doing that.  He’ll notice that for sure.”  With that thought, the urge went away and he noticed that he had been standing there for almost 2 minutes and decided to just hold it until later when he could find a place and a reason to take it off without being seen.  Not wanting to be obvious, he walked back just as Robert was pulling the sandal back on.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep, let’s hit it.”, Jared replied.

The two walked off.  Jared was confident in his ability to hold his water.  But he was surprised at how he felt it so strongly. They arrived at a trail crossing with a makeshift bench made from a fallen tree.  Robert sat it and Jared remained standing because it was now too awkward feeling to sit.

“I’m wanting to open a restaurant in Radcliffe.  The population grew by 1200 between 1990 and 2000 and new subdivision is selling slots.  No other fast food there. Just worries me about this old WPA dam up from the site that’s for sale.  If that dam breaks, the place would flood up to my waist and I’d be up to my neck in expense.” 

The words were too much for Jared who was bouncing from leg to leg almost unnoticably.  He felt a shaking inside him, and something moved and his penis started to sting.  He grabbed himself between the leg, bent his knees and started hopping.  “Ohhh FUCK!!!”  His foreskin inflated to the size of a plum and his hand got wet.  Robert say it right in front of him and he mumbled, “what the hell…”

Jared who was morbidly afraid of wetting himself took off running straight into the woods. Both hands fisted by his chest were pushing trees and saplings out of the way while his dick sprayed piss left and right through the singlet and onto his black shorts before being slung off at his running knees.  He kept on running in a panic for about a minute after his bladder stopped before he was out of breath and fell against a tree.

Legs shaking, heart pounding, he couldn’t believe what had happened.  He look inside his shorts and the whole front half of his singlet from the waist down was wet down to the knees.  He figured that he’d be dry soon and would hike back and through everything in the washer.  “My GPS will get me back to the trail and if I hurry, I can get back to my car before that other guy leaves here.”, he thought.  Then came a sinking feeling.  He left his backpack at the bench.

He quietly paced through the woods back the way he came.  He had no idea how far he ran, but he didn’t want to be seen or heard.  He realized after about 10 minutes he was close.  Crested a small knob he saw Robert whom was sitting at the bench and there was his pack.  He squatted there for a few minutes, waiting to see if the guy would just leave.  He had to pee again too.  “Damn, I must be all piss.  I thought it all ran out of me 15 minutes ago.  Since he was already soaked, he had no fear of wetting his outfit this time around.  He sat down, slid the black shorts up to his bent knees.  It didn’t take long to over come his inhibitions because his stressed bladder was very weak and sore.  As the pee whistled inside his shorts, he thought, “This has got to be the weirdest, yet relaxing thing I have ever done.”  Once he was sure the drips were done. He leaned back to pull his shorts back on and stood up.  This time, Robert was standing, facing directly towards him, squinting to see if her saw somebody and he yelled out to him, “Is that you over there?”

Knowing he had been seen, and that Robert just wasn’t going to leave, he faced his humiliation, yelled “Yeah!”, and walked back.

“I think I need to be heading home now.”

“You know, it’s not a big deal to wet yourself.  It happens to us all sometimes.  It’s part of the human experience.  One of the costs we pay to be alive.  I hope you don’t worry about that.”, Robert said rather calmly.

“Thanks, I needed that.  I really thought I could make it.”, and he walked up the trail.  By the time he got to his car, he was dry but he thought to himself, “I sure as hell ain’t telling anybody about this one.” and started the car and drove himself home.  He couldn’t smell himself, but he was too self conscious about that to eat at Applebee’s though.  “I’m going home.”

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