Saturday, August 27, 2016

Probation V

A short segment today. Look for more on Wednesday 8/31/16 as recompense.


Peter arises early. In the predawn light he can move about the house unseen through the large picture windows. In peering out, he curses the early morning dog walkers. He had not before noticed there were so many. Thus he dares not turn on any lights. Still, the rising sun offers enough light to find his way about.

Though attempting to focus on the task at hand, he has urgent needs. Throughout the night he has been able to delay responding to nature’s call, but his bladder is full, the morning ritual of standing before the toilet infeasible with the wickedly tight locking garment.

So though the goal is to move his office... not to the basement but instead to a second floor spare bedroom, fenestration somewhat limited, his bladder begins to ache and the sight of passing neighbors too frequently causes him to scurry from the den window.

Computer disassembled and moved... office chair... the desk proves to be a burden. He lifts and turns, positioning the smooth flat top surface on the rug. With the resistance minimized, he pushes and it readily slides. But the straining motion finally brings the overwhelming need to empty his bladder. He cedes, wetting himself.

Curious how it initially feels so good, the warm wetness coating his scrotum... with his untoward penile length, he feels the flow on his anus as well.

Peter finds himself pausing from the task at hand, oddly reveling in the sensations, the inner cloth liner most absorbent. Gratefully, nothing leaks. But when he returns to the desk, the night’s excretions rapidly cool. By the time he positions the desk at the stairs, he senses irritation, the acidic moisture beginning to inflame the pink flesh of his anus and scrotal sac.

No wonder infants cry when change is needed, comes an initial thought. Then he realizes, in being locked, Miss Abby not expected until the end of the day, the torment of his wetness is only beginning.

Pulling the desk up the stairs, Peter completes the move well before the stock market opens. At least he can work, he thinks in comforting himself. But then comes the smell, the odorous urine seeping about, the stench to remain for the day.


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