Beer Bladders and Barriers (fiction)
Posted: 03 Nov 2024, 02:10
Beer Bladders and Barriers
by pvault
reposted from omorashi.org
*****
The subway was crammed like a tin can of sardines, and as loud as a marching band. Excitement buzzed through the air like lightning ready to sizzle the sky. Boisterous groups of football fans cohabitated the train carriages, headed to the first of the annual best-out-of-three national football matches. Snaking underneath the ground, the train was on its way to deliver its bellyful of passengers to the city’s landmark stadium. The surrounding streets shut down, lined with barriers and police as the city bowed to the whim of masculine roughage.
Ryan stuck his tongue out for the camera shoved in his face by Noah, his best friend and college roommate. The long screen reflected back to him his rugged yet youthful handsomeness, his brown eyes and scruffy beard. His backward cap bore the logo of the team he had cheered on since he could remember, the Lions. His home-state heroes weren’t terribly good at football. They’d lost the last three years in a row, but Ryan was adamant this year would be different.
“Wait let me do it again”, slurred Noah as Jose shoved his head in the frame too.
The three of them had been drinking for hours already, knowing that the beers at the stadium go for at least $10 just for a lite. It was early evening, and they were already at the stage of being drunk where you just want to make a lot of noise and have a lot of fun. Ryan’s cheeks had already started flushing with redness, the beer bringing to the surface the buzz coursing through him.
Noah posted the boomerang to his Instagram story, Ryan sticking his tongue in and out on a loop as Jose’s head blurred into frame. Squished into close proximity, holding onto the overhanging handles, the three of them blurted conversation to one another. Droplets of spit flung from their mouths as they predicted the night’s events. Ryan’s eyes wandered to the window where subway lights flew past like scanners. He stared for a moment, somewhat hypnotised, as he noticed a pressure in his centre of gravity. He needed to piss.
As he snapped back to reality, re-joining the conversation between his buddies, the pressure stayed in the back of his mind. It felt like a quick onset. He realised he must have needed to pee for a while, unnoticed amongst the distraction, stimuli and excitement. He wondered how much further the train had to go, and made a plan to make a bee-line for the station toilets once they got there.
He was far from concerned. As a youthful, work-hard-play-harder 23 year old, his body had a lot of experience in the recycling of beer. All of a sudden, the flickering lights gave way to a brighter view of the train platform. A sea of people came into view, bathed in the fluorescent lights of the underground platform as the train rolled in.
“Holy shit that’s a lot of people”, said Noah, holding his balance as the gravitational pull of the halting train lurched its passengers sideways. A small alarm bell rang in Ryan’s mind.
“Dude, that’s gonna take forever to get through”, said Jose.
“The game doesn’t start for another hour, though. I just wish we brought beers”, Noah said as the group started to make tiny steps towards the door. The passengers started to feed through the small opening like toothpaste.
Once they reached the platform, the mass herd began to fan out. The noise was deafening as the crowd moved towards the platform exits. The stairs would lead them to the first level, where the station toilets were located near the ticket booth. Since Ryan became aware of the pressure in his bladder, it started to gradually intensify. A bottleneck had been created at the bottom of the stairs. The guys reached it and came to a standstill. Ryan’s frustration and urgency started to mount.
“Fuck”, Ryan muttered. Noah turned to him.
“What?”
“Dude, I really have to piss.”
“Oh fuck. Piss in the toilets upstairs before we leave.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna. I really have to go.”
They reached the stairs and started climbing slowly. With every step Ryan felt the piss sloshing in his bladder, each shifting of weight drawing his attention to it. Ryan realised he wasn’t thinking of anything else.
Jose and Noah were arguing about the best route to take once they got outside to avoid the crowd, already forgetting about Ryan’s predicament. As they reached the third quarter of the stairs, Ryan’s hand subconsciously made its way to his crotch, grabbing his dick to assist its constricting. As they reached the top of the stairs, Ryan detoured off towards the toilets next to the ticket booth, catching Jose’s attention.
“Bro it’s this way!”
Noah grabbed his sleeve, “He’s going to the bathroom, let’s wait for him.”
They followed in Ryan’s direction, weaving in and out of the exit-headed crowd. Ryan reached the ticket booth, and darted towards the narrow hallway to its left. Once he’d broken through the seal of people, he almost tripped over the waist-length barrier blocking his way. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As he went to grab the barrier and shift it aside, a hand swatted him out of the way.
A tall, bald station security guard looked down at him, “Toilet’s closed for the night, mate. Exit’s that way”, pointing ahead.
“What?! I just have to pee, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Toilet’s closed. Make your way to the exit, sir.”
The setback added to Ryan’s desperation, his bladder sending warning signals to his brain, the pressure starting to give way to pain. Noah and Jose caught up with him. Jose looked at the barrier, then at Ryan.
“What happened?”
“They closed the toilet. Come on, let’s get out of here and I can just piss behind the building.”
Ryan led the way as they maneuvered through the crowd. His tolerance was starting to deplete. He wanted to just shove every man, woman and child out of his way. The same thought ran through his mind on a loop, “Fuck I need to piss”. As they reached the opposite corner of the station lobby, Ryan’s dread worsened as he realised the crowd was being diverted from the escalators of the main exit and into the tunnel walkway.
Noah caught the attention of a security guard, a frumpy looking woman with a natural frown.
“Hey, why are we going through here? Can’t we just go up the escalator?”
“We’ve closed the escalator, sir, the walkway will lead you up to Chester Street and into the stadium.”
“But the entrance is on Walker.”
“They’ve opened the side and back entrances tonight to avoid traffic problems, sir, please make your way through the walkway towards the Chester Street exit. You can check your ticket for which entrance you’ll enter.”
Ryan interjected.
“Miss, I need to use the bathroom, is there any way we can just go up the escalators?”
The security guard glanced down at his crotch, and saw his hand firmly clamped onto his dick. He felt a sting of embarrassment, but he was so desperate that he didn’t think twice about pleading with a stranger.
“You won’t find any bathrooms up there, sir.”
Ryan groaned as he re-entered the crowd and weaved his way towards the pedestrian tunnel. Noah and Jose followed. Jose put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, dude, I bet we’ll get out fast and we can find an alleyway or something”.
Ryan heard the words but couldn’t listen. All he could focus on was the pain emanating from his bladder. He started to punish himself. “Fuck, why didn’t I go before we left? Why did I down that last beer? Why wouldn’t that bitch let me up the fucking escalator? Why the fuck did they close the toilets?”
As they reached the walkway, the crowd had been split into two distinct lines. Movement started to slow down, as Ryan realised the line had been halted by security officers at the exit. They came to a complete standstill, bathed in the bright, fluorescent light which reflected off the semi-circular tiled walls.
Ryan could not stand still. He started shifting his weight from foot to foot, compulsively squeezing his legs together, bouncing on the spot, whatever kept the pressure off his bladder, but also subtle enough to not draw attention to himself.
He couldn’t remember ever having to piss this bad, this suddenly. He was already feeling embarrassed just over his sheer desperation. There’s nothing more emasculating than a grown man desperate to pee. His awkward row with the security woman had momentarily killed the lively mood between the three of them.
Suddenly, his whole body seized, as a jet of piss shot from his dick which quickly clamped back down again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Don’t worry dude we’ll be out soon”, said a sympathetic Noah, clueless to the stain appearing below.
Ryan looked down and noticed a dark spot the size of his palm had appeared on the crotch of his blue, straight leg jeans. His brain entered emergency mode. He wanted to shove everyone out of the way, sprint to ground level, whip his dick out and release his bladder all over the pavement. He wouldn’t give a shit who saw him as he relaxed his body, mouth open, eyes shut, draining every last bit of fluid onto the ground with the force of a garden hose, splattering back onto his shoes.
He wished he could just piss onto the floor where he stood, but he was in too close quarters with others. He couldn’t do it without pissing on the feet of the people surrounding him. He imagined their faces of disgust as they turned around, wondering who spilled their drink, only to be greeted by his dick spraying urine right onto them. He imagined the fist of the nearest man colliding with his nose.
Sweat started to bead on his forehead. He felt like he was contracting every single muscle to fortify his bladder. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and nestled into his tear tract, which stung his eyes. Defeated thoughts started to run through his mind, “I can’t do this. I’m going to piss my pants. I’m going to piss my pants in front of all these people.”
He strengthened his grip around his dick as his breathing started to intensify. He felt as though he had just sprinted around the block ten times. Noah and Jose were back to arguing about who’d win, who’d play best, who’d surely let the team down, allowing Ryan’s dire state to slip from their boozy minds. The hustle and bustle bounced off the tunnel, blending into one cacophonous drone.
Ryan’s legs started to shake. His breathing got more and more shallow. Sweat was now pouring down his face. He felt as though his body was going through labour, except instead of pushing something out, it was trying to squeeze it back in. His heart was beating a hundred beats per minute. Suddenly, his vision tunnelled, looking forward in a stunned daze, he felt his bladder give a prolonged, involuntary squeeze.
Ryan’s chest sunk as he felt the warm tickle of piss start to flood his jeans, spreading across his thighs and travelling down his legs. He felt urine pool underneath his balls as he soaked his underwear. The noise surrounding him drowned out as he stood still, drenching his legs with his warm beer-infused urine. He was overcome with equal amounts of relief and shame as he wet himself uncontrollably.
He looked down to see his blue jeans an entire shade darker as they soaked up his urine. He felt it penetrate his socks, slowly spreading around his feet, pooling under them into his sneakers, warm, heavy. He was pissing so hard he could feel the vibration between the head of his dick and his Calvin Klein briefs. He suddenly felt very sober.
A stream of piss leapt from his ankle cuff to the floor, forming a huge puddle splattering between his feet, splintering off like fingers, following the grout in the tile to create some kind of abstract geometric art.
After his dick squeezed out the last few remaining jets of piss and finally relaxed, he looked around sheepishly, expecting the groans of disgust, the staring and finger pointing, but it never came. To his surprise, everyone was still caught up in their own excitement, talking, shouting, taking selfies. He stood there, his legs starting to become heavy and cool as the piss acclimatised, still, gratefully isolated in his shameful secret.
He looked at Noah and Jose, who were still boasting to each other. Noah caught his eye, noticed the drastic change in his demeanour, and looked down. His eyes widened as he saw Ryan’s soaked legs and the river of piss he stood atop, reflecting the fluorescent beams from overhead. His mouth fell open. He again met Ryan’s eyes and burst into laughter.
Jose caught on and joined in. Ryan buried his hands in his face and shook his head as Noah pulled out his phone and started taking a video. Ryan lunged forward to snatch the phone out of Noah’s hands, but was caught off guard by how the cold, wet denim felt as it rubbed against his legs.
Jose and Noah wiped tears from their eyes as the crowd finally started to move forward in baby steps, everyone following Ryan unknowingly treading through his spilt urine. Ryan was silent until they reached the escalator, as Noah and Jose got fits of laughter out of their system. Ryan’s sneakers squelched with every step, pushing the piss deeper and deeper into the fabric and rubber.
Finally, after what felt like the longest journey of his life, they stepped foot onto the escalator, which delivered them to the street. People were everywhere, making their ways to the various entrances of the stadium that towered before them. The cold night air slapped Ryan’s wet legs.
“Dude”, Noah said, wiping tears from his eyes, “What would your mother say?” Jose pulled out his phone and snapped a pic.
Now in full view, Ryan noticed some passerbyers glancing down at his clearly soaked pants, although the majority were too wrapped up in their own fun. He noticed a group of girls, one of whom glanced down, put a hand over her mouth, then quickly turned back to her friends, grabbing their attention, pointing backwards to Ryan. Ryan tried to angle himself away from them, turning his cap around and pulling it far down his forehead in an attempt to hide himself.
Three loud beeps from the usher’s ticket scanner greeted them into the stadium lobby. Ryan looked to his left and noticed a gigantic merch stand, filled with various team-branded clothing and paraphernalia. Jerseys, caps, shirts, coffee mugs, flags, scarves. His heart sang as his eyes rested on a pair of sweatpants bearing the iconic lion crest of his team.
“Can I get a medium one of the sweatpants?”
The teenager working bagged them up.
“That’ll be $50.”
He took the bag and held it over his crotch, looked at Noah and Jose and gestured with a nod towards the lobby toilets. He power-walked towards them, weaving through the crowd, clutching the bag conspicuously in front of his soaked legs.
He burst through the door of the men’s bathroom, almost pummelling into the line that had formed in front of the urinals and cubicles. The smell of beer piss penetrated his nostrils. Urine splashed loudly from the men occupying the urinals, standing with their feet spread apart, free of shame. Ryan envied them.
After a few minutes, he made his way into a cubicle, slamming the door behind him. He kicked off his sneakers and tipped them upside down over the toilet, expecting litres of piss to drain out. By now, the sneakers had well soaked up his piss, and no more than a drop was released. He undid the button on his jeans, pulled down the fly, and started to peel the soaked denim from his legs. It was more difficult than he expected, as the heavy fabric clung to him, bunching up around his feet. He leaned on the cubicle wall as he pulled them off leg by leg.
The jeans dropped into a heavy, dank mound on the toilet floor with a loud, sloppy thud. His light grey Calvin Klein briefs had become a shade darker almost all around, as they soaked up his piss as first defence. He pulled them off and threw them on top of the jeans. His leg hairs had flattened against his skin, in visible trails where piss had run down, forming what looked like river maps.
He tore away an entire handful of toilet paper, dabbing at his crotch and legs to soak up what excess urine had remained. He then pulled on his new sweatpants, and relief overcame him. The soft, dry cotton comforted his skin. He dumped his underwear, jeans and socks into the shopping bag, and begrudgingly put back on his damp sneakers, grimacing through the process.
After flushing the toilet paper, he exited the bathroom, emerging to see Noah and Jose applauding him and cheering obnoxiously. Ryan rolled his eyes as he threw the shopping bag in a garbage bin in one fell swoop.
“All right, let’s get the fuck to the seats”, sighed Ryan.
“Hang on, I’m gonna take a piss”, Jose said grinning.
After Jose spritely returned from the bathroom, they made their way to the gate that would lead them to their seats. Ryan’s sneakers squelched with every step. They finally made their way to their seats, and he took them off. He watched the game barefoot, forgetting all about the fact that he’d wet himself just 45 minutes prior. Noah left momentarily and came back with three huge beers. Ryan drank his as he watched his team lose.
by pvault
reposted from omorashi.org
*****
The subway was crammed like a tin can of sardines, and as loud as a marching band. Excitement buzzed through the air like lightning ready to sizzle the sky. Boisterous groups of football fans cohabitated the train carriages, headed to the first of the annual best-out-of-three national football matches. Snaking underneath the ground, the train was on its way to deliver its bellyful of passengers to the city’s landmark stadium. The surrounding streets shut down, lined with barriers and police as the city bowed to the whim of masculine roughage.
Ryan stuck his tongue out for the camera shoved in his face by Noah, his best friend and college roommate. The long screen reflected back to him his rugged yet youthful handsomeness, his brown eyes and scruffy beard. His backward cap bore the logo of the team he had cheered on since he could remember, the Lions. His home-state heroes weren’t terribly good at football. They’d lost the last three years in a row, but Ryan was adamant this year would be different.
“Wait let me do it again”, slurred Noah as Jose shoved his head in the frame too.
The three of them had been drinking for hours already, knowing that the beers at the stadium go for at least $10 just for a lite. It was early evening, and they were already at the stage of being drunk where you just want to make a lot of noise and have a lot of fun. Ryan’s cheeks had already started flushing with redness, the beer bringing to the surface the buzz coursing through him.
Noah posted the boomerang to his Instagram story, Ryan sticking his tongue in and out on a loop as Jose’s head blurred into frame. Squished into close proximity, holding onto the overhanging handles, the three of them blurted conversation to one another. Droplets of spit flung from their mouths as they predicted the night’s events. Ryan’s eyes wandered to the window where subway lights flew past like scanners. He stared for a moment, somewhat hypnotised, as he noticed a pressure in his centre of gravity. He needed to piss.
As he snapped back to reality, re-joining the conversation between his buddies, the pressure stayed in the back of his mind. It felt like a quick onset. He realised he must have needed to pee for a while, unnoticed amongst the distraction, stimuli and excitement. He wondered how much further the train had to go, and made a plan to make a bee-line for the station toilets once they got there.
He was far from concerned. As a youthful, work-hard-play-harder 23 year old, his body had a lot of experience in the recycling of beer. All of a sudden, the flickering lights gave way to a brighter view of the train platform. A sea of people came into view, bathed in the fluorescent lights of the underground platform as the train rolled in.
“Holy shit that’s a lot of people”, said Noah, holding his balance as the gravitational pull of the halting train lurched its passengers sideways. A small alarm bell rang in Ryan’s mind.
“Dude, that’s gonna take forever to get through”, said Jose.
“The game doesn’t start for another hour, though. I just wish we brought beers”, Noah said as the group started to make tiny steps towards the door. The passengers started to feed through the small opening like toothpaste.
Once they reached the platform, the mass herd began to fan out. The noise was deafening as the crowd moved towards the platform exits. The stairs would lead them to the first level, where the station toilets were located near the ticket booth. Since Ryan became aware of the pressure in his bladder, it started to gradually intensify. A bottleneck had been created at the bottom of the stairs. The guys reached it and came to a standstill. Ryan’s frustration and urgency started to mount.
“Fuck”, Ryan muttered. Noah turned to him.
“What?”
“Dude, I really have to piss.”
“Oh fuck. Piss in the toilets upstairs before we leave.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna. I really have to go.”
They reached the stairs and started climbing slowly. With every step Ryan felt the piss sloshing in his bladder, each shifting of weight drawing his attention to it. Ryan realised he wasn’t thinking of anything else.
Jose and Noah were arguing about the best route to take once they got outside to avoid the crowd, already forgetting about Ryan’s predicament. As they reached the third quarter of the stairs, Ryan’s hand subconsciously made its way to his crotch, grabbing his dick to assist its constricting. As they reached the top of the stairs, Ryan detoured off towards the toilets next to the ticket booth, catching Jose’s attention.
“Bro it’s this way!”
Noah grabbed his sleeve, “He’s going to the bathroom, let’s wait for him.”
They followed in Ryan’s direction, weaving in and out of the exit-headed crowd. Ryan reached the ticket booth, and darted towards the narrow hallway to its left. Once he’d broken through the seal of people, he almost tripped over the waist-length barrier blocking his way. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As he went to grab the barrier and shift it aside, a hand swatted him out of the way.
A tall, bald station security guard looked down at him, “Toilet’s closed for the night, mate. Exit’s that way”, pointing ahead.
“What?! I just have to pee, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Toilet’s closed. Make your way to the exit, sir.”
The setback added to Ryan’s desperation, his bladder sending warning signals to his brain, the pressure starting to give way to pain. Noah and Jose caught up with him. Jose looked at the barrier, then at Ryan.
“What happened?”
“They closed the toilet. Come on, let’s get out of here and I can just piss behind the building.”
Ryan led the way as they maneuvered through the crowd. His tolerance was starting to deplete. He wanted to just shove every man, woman and child out of his way. The same thought ran through his mind on a loop, “Fuck I need to piss”. As they reached the opposite corner of the station lobby, Ryan’s dread worsened as he realised the crowd was being diverted from the escalators of the main exit and into the tunnel walkway.
Noah caught the attention of a security guard, a frumpy looking woman with a natural frown.
“Hey, why are we going through here? Can’t we just go up the escalator?”
“We’ve closed the escalator, sir, the walkway will lead you up to Chester Street and into the stadium.”
“But the entrance is on Walker.”
“They’ve opened the side and back entrances tonight to avoid traffic problems, sir, please make your way through the walkway towards the Chester Street exit. You can check your ticket for which entrance you’ll enter.”
Ryan interjected.
“Miss, I need to use the bathroom, is there any way we can just go up the escalators?”
The security guard glanced down at his crotch, and saw his hand firmly clamped onto his dick. He felt a sting of embarrassment, but he was so desperate that he didn’t think twice about pleading with a stranger.
“You won’t find any bathrooms up there, sir.”
Ryan groaned as he re-entered the crowd and weaved his way towards the pedestrian tunnel. Noah and Jose followed. Jose put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, dude, I bet we’ll get out fast and we can find an alleyway or something”.
Ryan heard the words but couldn’t listen. All he could focus on was the pain emanating from his bladder. He started to punish himself. “Fuck, why didn’t I go before we left? Why did I down that last beer? Why wouldn’t that bitch let me up the fucking escalator? Why the fuck did they close the toilets?”
As they reached the walkway, the crowd had been split into two distinct lines. Movement started to slow down, as Ryan realised the line had been halted by security officers at the exit. They came to a complete standstill, bathed in the bright, fluorescent light which reflected off the semi-circular tiled walls.
Ryan could not stand still. He started shifting his weight from foot to foot, compulsively squeezing his legs together, bouncing on the spot, whatever kept the pressure off his bladder, but also subtle enough to not draw attention to himself.
He couldn’t remember ever having to piss this bad, this suddenly. He was already feeling embarrassed just over his sheer desperation. There’s nothing more emasculating than a grown man desperate to pee. His awkward row with the security woman had momentarily killed the lively mood between the three of them.
Suddenly, his whole body seized, as a jet of piss shot from his dick which quickly clamped back down again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Don’t worry dude we’ll be out soon”, said a sympathetic Noah, clueless to the stain appearing below.
Ryan looked down and noticed a dark spot the size of his palm had appeared on the crotch of his blue, straight leg jeans. His brain entered emergency mode. He wanted to shove everyone out of the way, sprint to ground level, whip his dick out and release his bladder all over the pavement. He wouldn’t give a shit who saw him as he relaxed his body, mouth open, eyes shut, draining every last bit of fluid onto the ground with the force of a garden hose, splattering back onto his shoes.
He wished he could just piss onto the floor where he stood, but he was in too close quarters with others. He couldn’t do it without pissing on the feet of the people surrounding him. He imagined their faces of disgust as they turned around, wondering who spilled their drink, only to be greeted by his dick spraying urine right onto them. He imagined the fist of the nearest man colliding with his nose.
Sweat started to bead on his forehead. He felt like he was contracting every single muscle to fortify his bladder. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and nestled into his tear tract, which stung his eyes. Defeated thoughts started to run through his mind, “I can’t do this. I’m going to piss my pants. I’m going to piss my pants in front of all these people.”
He strengthened his grip around his dick as his breathing started to intensify. He felt as though he had just sprinted around the block ten times. Noah and Jose were back to arguing about who’d win, who’d play best, who’d surely let the team down, allowing Ryan’s dire state to slip from their boozy minds. The hustle and bustle bounced off the tunnel, blending into one cacophonous drone.
Ryan’s legs started to shake. His breathing got more and more shallow. Sweat was now pouring down his face. He felt as though his body was going through labour, except instead of pushing something out, it was trying to squeeze it back in. His heart was beating a hundred beats per minute. Suddenly, his vision tunnelled, looking forward in a stunned daze, he felt his bladder give a prolonged, involuntary squeeze.
Ryan’s chest sunk as he felt the warm tickle of piss start to flood his jeans, spreading across his thighs and travelling down his legs. He felt urine pool underneath his balls as he soaked his underwear. The noise surrounding him drowned out as he stood still, drenching his legs with his warm beer-infused urine. He was overcome with equal amounts of relief and shame as he wet himself uncontrollably.
He looked down to see his blue jeans an entire shade darker as they soaked up his urine. He felt it penetrate his socks, slowly spreading around his feet, pooling under them into his sneakers, warm, heavy. He was pissing so hard he could feel the vibration between the head of his dick and his Calvin Klein briefs. He suddenly felt very sober.
A stream of piss leapt from his ankle cuff to the floor, forming a huge puddle splattering between his feet, splintering off like fingers, following the grout in the tile to create some kind of abstract geometric art.
After his dick squeezed out the last few remaining jets of piss and finally relaxed, he looked around sheepishly, expecting the groans of disgust, the staring and finger pointing, but it never came. To his surprise, everyone was still caught up in their own excitement, talking, shouting, taking selfies. He stood there, his legs starting to become heavy and cool as the piss acclimatised, still, gratefully isolated in his shameful secret.
He looked at Noah and Jose, who were still boasting to each other. Noah caught his eye, noticed the drastic change in his demeanour, and looked down. His eyes widened as he saw Ryan’s soaked legs and the river of piss he stood atop, reflecting the fluorescent beams from overhead. His mouth fell open. He again met Ryan’s eyes and burst into laughter.
Jose caught on and joined in. Ryan buried his hands in his face and shook his head as Noah pulled out his phone and started taking a video. Ryan lunged forward to snatch the phone out of Noah’s hands, but was caught off guard by how the cold, wet denim felt as it rubbed against his legs.
Jose and Noah wiped tears from their eyes as the crowd finally started to move forward in baby steps, everyone following Ryan unknowingly treading through his spilt urine. Ryan was silent until they reached the escalator, as Noah and Jose got fits of laughter out of their system. Ryan’s sneakers squelched with every step, pushing the piss deeper and deeper into the fabric and rubber.
Finally, after what felt like the longest journey of his life, they stepped foot onto the escalator, which delivered them to the street. People were everywhere, making their ways to the various entrances of the stadium that towered before them. The cold night air slapped Ryan’s wet legs.
“Dude”, Noah said, wiping tears from his eyes, “What would your mother say?” Jose pulled out his phone and snapped a pic.
Now in full view, Ryan noticed some passerbyers glancing down at his clearly soaked pants, although the majority were too wrapped up in their own fun. He noticed a group of girls, one of whom glanced down, put a hand over her mouth, then quickly turned back to her friends, grabbing their attention, pointing backwards to Ryan. Ryan tried to angle himself away from them, turning his cap around and pulling it far down his forehead in an attempt to hide himself.
Three loud beeps from the usher’s ticket scanner greeted them into the stadium lobby. Ryan looked to his left and noticed a gigantic merch stand, filled with various team-branded clothing and paraphernalia. Jerseys, caps, shirts, coffee mugs, flags, scarves. His heart sang as his eyes rested on a pair of sweatpants bearing the iconic lion crest of his team.
“Can I get a medium one of the sweatpants?”
The teenager working bagged them up.
“That’ll be $50.”
He took the bag and held it over his crotch, looked at Noah and Jose and gestured with a nod towards the lobby toilets. He power-walked towards them, weaving through the crowd, clutching the bag conspicuously in front of his soaked legs.
He burst through the door of the men’s bathroom, almost pummelling into the line that had formed in front of the urinals and cubicles. The smell of beer piss penetrated his nostrils. Urine splashed loudly from the men occupying the urinals, standing with their feet spread apart, free of shame. Ryan envied them.
After a few minutes, he made his way into a cubicle, slamming the door behind him. He kicked off his sneakers and tipped them upside down over the toilet, expecting litres of piss to drain out. By now, the sneakers had well soaked up his piss, and no more than a drop was released. He undid the button on his jeans, pulled down the fly, and started to peel the soaked denim from his legs. It was more difficult than he expected, as the heavy fabric clung to him, bunching up around his feet. He leaned on the cubicle wall as he pulled them off leg by leg.
The jeans dropped into a heavy, dank mound on the toilet floor with a loud, sloppy thud. His light grey Calvin Klein briefs had become a shade darker almost all around, as they soaked up his piss as first defence. He pulled them off and threw them on top of the jeans. His leg hairs had flattened against his skin, in visible trails where piss had run down, forming what looked like river maps.
He tore away an entire handful of toilet paper, dabbing at his crotch and legs to soak up what excess urine had remained. He then pulled on his new sweatpants, and relief overcame him. The soft, dry cotton comforted his skin. He dumped his underwear, jeans and socks into the shopping bag, and begrudgingly put back on his damp sneakers, grimacing through the process.
After flushing the toilet paper, he exited the bathroom, emerging to see Noah and Jose applauding him and cheering obnoxiously. Ryan rolled his eyes as he threw the shopping bag in a garbage bin in one fell swoop.
“All right, let’s get the fuck to the seats”, sighed Ryan.
“Hang on, I’m gonna take a piss”, Jose said grinning.
After Jose spritely returned from the bathroom, they made their way to the gate that would lead them to their seats. Ryan’s sneakers squelched with every step. They finally made their way to their seats, and he took them off. He watched the game barefoot, forgetting all about the fact that he’d wet himself just 45 minutes prior. Noah left momentarily and came back with three huge beers. Ryan drank his as he watched his team lose.