No (Wet the Bed)

Your dreams are a blur of pink and other shiny things. Your brain almost feels like its filled with cotton candy in the gay and happy place you've found yourself in. You're prancing in a field of soft, pleasant things as your room seemed to come to life around you.

A sick dampness around your crotch wakes you. You don't dare believe it. You whisk the cover away, finding your pride and joy still dribbling piss all over your crotch. You pissed yourself in your sleep!

‘Fuck…’ You groan, more humiliated than angry. 225 lbs quarterbacks aren’t supposed to wet their beds. And yet, you did.

You remove the dry pillows and stuffed animals to keep them safe from your little accident.

‘Fuck…’ You repeated as you removed the soaked sheets and blanket, cringing at the damp touch of your own mess. How the fuck did you wet the damn bed?!

Buck naked, you tiptoe downstairs with your soiled laundry to start the washing machine. You’d never be able to explain to dad how you wet the bed; not like you ever intended to tell a soul.

You shivered in the dark utility room as you waited for the wash cycle to complete. You stared down at your own cock. You felt almost betrayed by your modest member. Your cock was like your fucking wing man: there with you through some of your best moments. But now, you felt dirty and disgusted by it as it hung limply between your muscular thighs. Even now, it was letting you down: shriveling up into a tightly puckered nub in the cold.

‘Fuck…’ You roughly yanked out your washing as the machine dinged before stuffing it in the dryer. You padded back upstairs letting the machine do its thing.

You showered quickly to get rid of the dried piss all over your body. You wondered if you could sneak in the extractor to wash the mattress tomorrow. Dad wouldn’t bat an eye - this was an old house full of someone else’s used stuff after all.

You sighed as you emerged from the shower once more. What a fucking night. Not even a day and you’re already pissing yourself like a fucking toddler.