The Nursery

You didn't feel easy about leaving the room all locked like that. There could be pests or black mold in there for all anyone knew. Plus, it would be nice place to stash some of the junk that didn't need to be sorted right away.

You climb down into the basement to retrieve the key bowl along with a broom and dustpan. You sort through the bunch, repeatedly trying three designs that looked like it fit the lock best.

It took a few sprays of WD-40 to get the lock sufficiently lubricated to receive the key, but the barrel finally turned over. Immediately, you were greeted with a very dank smell. You fumble around for the light switch.

It was a small room that was packed to the brim with about five kids' worth of hand-me-down baby stuff: a custom-built crib sized up to accommodate four kids at once; a mountain of toys and blankets; a whole wall of changing supplies; and a pile of garbage bags full of what must've been clothes. Mrs. Parker mentioned the old family that lived here had a whole bunch of kids, including triplets. Guess they pooled everything here and forgot about it once they didn't need it anymore.

You examined a familiar telephone toy with wheels on it. You remembered having one of these as a kid.

A clatter broke your reverie and you looked back just in time to see the tipped over broom handle pushing the door closed.

You cross the room and jiggle the door handle, finding it seized.

'God dammit.' You mutter. You bang on the door. 'Dad! DAD!' You call out. Faintly, you can hear the whine of a buzz saw going.

You try calling him but he doesn't pick up.

'Damn it, dad.' You toss the phone aside.

You hope he'll spot the keys hanging from the door.

Trapped, you try to sort the mountain of stuff to pass the time. You strip naked as you really started to work up a sweat. The denim grew sticky and the panties kept riding up your hips, and it was easier to explain being nude anyway. You thought you were doing a pretty good job; setting aside the stuff to toss, sell, and donate until a more pressing matter made itself apparent.

You really had to pee.

You try calling dad again but he still doesn't pick up. The more you thought about it, the more your bladder seemed to want to release.

The tipping point came when your cock threatened to let you down again by spraying a jet to pee onto the carpet.

You scan the room for anything you could use.

You grab the too-small Beauty and the Beast-themed training potty and prop your muscular rump over it just in time. Your dick releases almost immediately behind the splash guard.

Just then, the door suddenly swings open.

'Holt?' Dad stops dead in his tracks as he takes in the sight of his muscular son squatting over a training potty. You thought you were going to die of embarrassment as you find two other figures hovering behind dad: Mrs. Parker and Rachel. In the silence, the spray of your stream was deafening even as it slowed to a dribble.

'Oh dear...' Mrs. Parker said as Rachel cupped her hands to her mouth to hide her giggles.

'What the hell are you doing?!' Dad padded over as if to inspect if his quarterback son was really using a child's training potty.

'The door locked itself.' You produce a strangled squeak, mashing your hands between your powerful thighs. You feel your face burning.

'I'll just leave this here... ' Mrs. Parker sets down a bunch of new keys on the dresser by the door before shooing Rachel away from the humiliating spectacle. She steals one last gawk at you through the door frame. You thought you saw a smartphone disappearing into her purse.

Dad visibly wilted in secondhand embarrassment as the Parkers took their leave. He tried and failed to speak a few times before managing a, 'Come have lunch. Mrs. Parker brought a casserole.' He glances at you one last time before hurriedly leaving the room.

It takes you a moment to collect yourself. Barely a day in and the Parkers have already seen you piss into a training potty.

The rest of the day, both of you make a conspicuous effort to forget your little accident. You welcomed the distraction as the truck finally came with the rest of your stuff. At least you had something to wear tomorrow. You go to bed dreading the coming school day. All you can think about is Rachel Parker standing in the doorway, pointing down at you and laughing. You could almost picture her in bed right this moment; phone in hand texting about you with her friends in the group chat. Your reputation was ruined and you haven't even stepped foot in school yet.

In disbelief, you feel your prick firm up and before long, you're spilling your seed all over the lacy pink sheets as you fantasize about her actually putting your picture in the school paper.

You apologize inwardly to the soft toy as you wipe off your spunk on an old Hello Kitty plush. What the fuck was wrong with you? What the hell were these thoughts? You felt drained and pathetic. You don't know what it is but it feels like this town is really messing with your head. You try your best to drift off to sleep. Tomorrow, you would assert yourself. You were a man's man in California, and absolutely nothing would change here.

You wet the bed again that night.