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"Fill our bellies with DIET soda!" Allan's landlord had said.
Yeah, fuck that. Now Allan was zooted out of his mind and squirming like a bitch in that stiff-ass wooden chair. At this point, he couldn't even focus on the god damn game that they were playing. His whole body was completely fixated on the tight fullness of his bladder.
It didn't help that BEFORE he had even begun downing those sodas that Allan hadn't been to the restroom since that morning. Fuck, it had been too fucking long since he'd last been to the bathroom.
He could see the open door to the bathroom in his landlord's apartment. He could see the fucking toilet. He was completely on edge because of that bomb Mr Landlord had attached to him. Otherwise, he probably would've nonchalantly excused himself to gush out all that pent-up liquid.
But, instead, he remained in that chair, grinding his hips into the seat in a desperate attempt to get some friction. His landlord was completely immersed in the game, and hadn't spared Allan a single glance since they started playing.
"Oh, you're not even trying!" Mr Landlord said.
"I am trying, you just keep ramming into me!" Allan defended himself irritably. His bladder was bursting at the fucking seams, and the ass-grinding in his seat wasn't helping anymore.
"C'mon, you can beat me if you just- if you actually try." His landlord encouraged him.
Allan had his legs double-crossed by then. And his thighs trembled as he applied as much pressure to his crotch as he could.
He groaned as Mr Landlord kept kicking his ass at that stupid game. Allan glanced at the ticking bomb on his landlords chest before finally blurting it out;
"I just... k-kind of need to use the bathroom." He stated flatly, still trying to focus on the game as much as he could.
"Oh, shut up and play the game. If you really try, you can probably beat me." His landlord insisted.
Allan squirmed again, squeezing his thighs together and almost bouncing in his chair. God, too much fucking soda.
"No. I really need to use the bathroom, I'm being serious." He said.
Mr Landlord was still completely engrossed in the game, and said nothing to Allan.
Finally, the race was over and there was a brief pause in the gameplay, which allowed Allan enough freedom to jam a hand between his thighs. He curled in on himself, groaning and whimpering in frustration. This shit was getting painful.
"Seriously, man, I'm gonna fucking piss myself if you don't let me use your bathroom." Allan said, his voice straining in desperation. At this point, he had completely released the controller from his grasp and was fully writhing in his seat. Both hands were squished between his trembling thighs as he
started grinding into the seat.
"Oh, come on!" His landlord griped, completely ignoring Allan's frantic need. "I'm not letting you get out of this! You won't be able to fool me!"
"I'm gonna piss on your f-fucking floor, man!" Allan yelled, feeling a trickle run down his thigh. "F-fuck, dude, it's leaking out already!" He was all curled in on himself in the chair, basically in the fetal position with his hands gripping his crotch for dear life. He felt hot spurts of his urine occasionally spraying past his fingers and trickling between them.
His landlord said nothing as Allan desperately squirmed, more and more urine pooling onto the chair.
"Please, please just let me use your bathroom." Allan pleaded, realizing that screaming and cussing wasn't going to do anything.
As the plea fell from his lips, however, Allan realized it was basically useless. He was pissing full-force onto himself. Urine gushed onto his hands and trickled down his legs and pattered on the wood floor.
"God damn it!" Allan grunted in frustration as he actually lifted himself from his seat. His stream gushed directly onto the floor where he stood, and no amount of squeezing from his hands could stem the flow at all.
Nothing was said by his landlord, who just sat and stared. Allan was left standing there in the silence as embarrassment and shame engulfed his senses entirely.