Probably Gotta Go

Is anyone else upset about this? Im too embarrassed to talk about this issue I have withy friends or on my main account but I wish non-scat fetishists cared too simply on the grounds of anti censorship. It feels so unfair. No generic pro kink blogs are talking about this!

Does anyone other than us even know? Or care? Is it working simply because we're too embarrassed to talk about why we know about it getting banned in the first place?

I've always viewed porn and erotica as not just... Porn and erotica. In fact I have read many a erotica I'm not sexually into for educational reasons as a psyche student. This is important to archive! How else will future generations study us in all of what we are? Am I the only one who sees this as really really bad??? Not just annoying?

Just then, the patient lets out a fart. They begin spluttering. “I don’t- I don’t need to poop, I’m just nervous,” they say. The doctor just smiles more, and sits down on his chair, legs crossed, waiting with his eyes focused on the patient.

They squirm now, mortified. Are they really about to poop in front of the doctor? The more they think about it, the more air seems to chug through their intestines, urging them to force out dry farts.

“There’s no need to be scared,” the doctor says. The patient avoids his eyes and weighs their options while sweat begins to bead on their forehead.

Suddenly their stomach cramps, slightly, but enough that it forces a small grunt from their lips. They look at the doctor, horrified at their moment of weakness. The doctor chuckles. “Come on, just let it out and it will all be over with,” he says. “Sounds like it’s coming soon wether you like it or not.”

They want to burst into frustrated tears as an ache begins to grow in their stomach. Whimpering, they pull off their pants and underwear, feeling cool air brush their skin. Just the act of undressing prepares his bowels for evacuation, and the urge grows immensely stronger within seconds. His breathing quickens as he gets gingerly into a squatting position.

“There we go. Alright, begin whenever you’re ready,” the doctor comes closer in his chair, so he’s eye-level with the patient’s bottom. The patient is practically dripping sweat with the effort to not blast hot farts into the doctor’s face.

“Please can I just be alone?” They squeak out, one more futile attempt to gain privacy. The doctor looks up at their face, smiles gently, and shakes his head.

“Nope, this is how we make sure we’re getting a fresh untampered sample,” he says. “Now come on, let it out.”

The patient’s legs are quaking ever so slightly as a cramp seizes their gut. A long dry fart whistles from their anus as it begins to stretch. They squeeze their eyes shut in shame, muttering incomprehensibly under their breath. “Please, no, please, no, not here,” they whine. Then they’re cut off by their own furious grunt as the urge to bear down becomes overwhelming. “Hhnnnnnnnng!”

They are horrified at their own primal noises. Their eyes open to see the doctor smiling pleasantly at them, then looking down at their doming anus. “Wow, are your movements usually this solid and difficult to get out?” He asks pleasantly.

“Y-yes,” the patient says shamefully. They stare at the doctor with glazed eyes as they begin another push. A loud fart pops out around the brick of poop widening their hole. They grunt loudly again, and it feels so good they almost don’t care that the nurses and other patients outside might hear them. Their stomach pulses with the urge to push as hard as possible to get the poop out. Its fat dry head is beginning to crown now, forcing their anus taut and wider than they’d ever seen it before.

“Good job,” the doctor says as he watches the patient’s bottom open wide for accommodate the load. He looks up into the patient’s glassy eyes, their face contorted in effort, strain, and humiliation. “This is hard work for you, huh?” He asks. The patient gets even redder, deepening their squat by leaning back on their hands and thrusting their pelvis forward. They are launched into another involuntary instinctive push, one that forces an animalistic grunt from their throat. They shake and shudder as the poop reaches its maximum width, bulging forth like a tree trunk from the earth.

“Here it comes,” they grunt out, taking in a massive breath. Their belly muscles tighten and constrict once more, and an almighty groan comes from their lungs. “It’s coming, it’s coming,” they say as the poop inches further out of their bum, rocky and glinting in the light. Finally it thuds into the bedpan, and the patient lets out an unencumbered sigh of relief.

worst of all, he hates having to do laundry because of it. so, so many pairs of boxers in the laundry basket. even worse than that, he lives with other people. he has to run the risk of someone noticing how much laundry he's going through, or, god forbid, they actually see him shit himself. and because it's so random, he runs that risk all the time.

through one way or another, he ends up wearing a pull-up. white, medical, plain. maybe trying to get over a UTI while still working his 8-6 job. he ends up needing a shit fairly early on, which means by the time he gets home, he's desperate for the bathroom. he parks the truck and just sits for a moment before getting out. the moment he's out of the seat, he almost loses it. he considers just giving in, but it's at least worth the effort of trying to make it to the bathroom.

he makes it to the bathroom door and moves to shove it open, relieved at the prospect of...relief. but when he opens it, he finds someone else already on the toilet. they yell at him to shut the door, and he does, backing up and glancing around. seeing as nobody can see him, he starts wiggling like a worm, grabbing at his rear as if that's going to keep him from having an accident.

he can't hold it long at all. he crouches down right there in the hallway, bracing himself against the wall, finally, just pushing it all out and getting it over with. he didn't think he could even fathom shitting this much, but it's enough that he has to tug his pants down to give himself more room to fill his pull-up.

once he's pretty sure he's done, he reaches a hand around to pat his bottom and see how much he really did...

it's a lot. more than he thinks he's ever gone in his life. and on top of all of it, he gets the urge to pee, so he does, letting out a painful jet of piss that soaks into the padding immediately.

"...[character]? what are you... are you having an accident?" he turns, his face growing hot with embarrassment as he sees his [family member/friend] at the end of the hallway.

The boy sat on the crowded uncalm couch. Loud music was playing. Drunk people dancing, shouting, laughing.

He had been invited to a houseparty by his crush. The boy was so nervous and anxious and really didn't enjoy parties like this but decided to go as he wanted so desperately to fit in and to see his crush.

The boy looked around, hoping his crush was gonna come to his rescue and save him from this nightmare but the crush was no where to be seen.

He got more and more anxious and felt completely out of place and awkward. The living, crowded couch made his body unwillingly jump up and down, from side to side. Bumping into the people he was squeezed between. He felt a sudden ache in his lower belly and the urge to use the bathroom.

The boy panicked, bolted up and ran to the bathroom. phew. it wasn't occupied. He ran in and locked the door behind him, closed his eyes and emitted a long sigh. His belly gave out a loud growl and the boy hunched over with a hand on his lower abdomin, moaning.

He pulled his pants down and sat on the toilet. The cold seat sent a shiver up his spine. He could hear the music and murmur of the crowd. On occasion someone tried the doorhandle and even knocked. The boy sat quiet as a mouse with his hands on his belly. He pushed hesitantly and in short rounds as he was afraid that anyone would hear if he succeeded to poop. He had the feeling that it would get really noisy and messy if he pushed too hard.

His belly was really hurting now and he desperately needed relief but this toilet was right in the middle of a passageway and the hallway outside was busy like a trainstation. If only he had made it to a more secluded toilet but he didn't know his way around the house. He was stuck here.

The anxiousness and the continious noise made his system frreeze up completely. His belly was still hurting and he was beginning to feel a bit nausious too. He gave it one last push but nothing happened other than a sickening feeling in his stomach.

He needed some fresh air but he was afraid to come out. What if someone noticed that he had been in there for the good part of an hour, or worse, call him out on it.

This was the anxiety speaking. Of course no one would notice him. They were all drunk and probably didn't even care.

He washed up and opened the door slowly. The door was yanked open from the outside "FINALLY" a big dude yelled. The boy bolted out the door and ran through the crowded hallway, bumping into people. He was so desperate to get outside.

Someone was watching him from a distance.

The boy finally found his way to the garden. No one was out here as it was a bit chilly. He found a bench in a private corner and sat down. As he started to rest into the seat of the bench, the ache came back. the sickening ache had been overpowered by adrenalin when he ran out. But now he felt it again. The urge to find a bathroom rose but there was no way he was going back inside. The boy clutched his belly and clenched his hole as a bubbling growl sounded as a last warning.

He couldn't hold it. He looked around desperately for a secluded bushy area further away from the house. He had no way of cleaning himself but he didn't have a choice. He was gonna poop wether he liked it or not.

He bolted up and ran towards an area he had picked as a safe place. In his desperation he didn't notice that someone had been following him outside and now knew where he was gonna do his business.

He ripped his pants down and squatted in the cold moist dirt between two masive bushes. His belly growled and bubbled. It hurt so bad it made the boy sob. He began pushing but stopped abrubtly when he heard the snap of a stick on the ground. Terrified his eyes flickered around in the dusky atmosphere. was someone here ? He panicked. once again his system worked against him. "oh gawd. C'mon" he whispered to himself. He pushed again, hard but nothing happened. His intestines let out a long bubbly growl.

"ooow" the boy cried out. It hurt so bad the nausia came back. He covered his mouth with a hand and clenched his eyes shot. Not this too. Why was this happening to him.

As he sat there squatting. one hand covering his mouth, the other resting on his aching belly, he heard footsteps. No no no! " don't come closer, please" he cried out. "plea.." his voice cracked as a spasm and growl went through his upset insides. The boy was so mentally exhausted and his body was not agreeing with him. He started sobbing. He tried to push to get this sickening ache out of his system and right as he did so a girl appeared from behind the bushes.

"H...hi..uum..i'm sorry to barge in on you like this but... i've been watching you and i've been wanting to ask if you're OK all night but i've been too nervous. Gawd, this is a bad time. isn't it. My timing always sucks" The girl looked down on her feet, kicking at the dirt.

The boy was absolutely frozen with fear. He just sat there. couldn't move or speak. This didn't happen. It couldn't. This was a bad dream, surreal. He was squatting, pants down, belly aching and growling, nausias. he was about to push out sick poo and his crush just walked in on him. He wanted to just die right then and there.

"Please" he sobbed" Please go away. Don't look. Please just..." His head was lowered, eyes closed. He was hoping she would just vanish so he could take care of business. His belly was in so much pain. Horrified, the boy protested as his body unwillingly started to push. The sick shit needed to be expelled. He tried to clench up his hole but to no avail. He could feel how his bowels were forcing the shit toward his open ready anus.

Then something unexpected happened. The girl came closer and kneeled down next to him. She wrapped an arm around his back and placed a hand on his knee. The boy opened his eyes and looked at the girl. She smiled and he suddenly felt relaxed, safe. what was happening.

A loud growl from the boys aching belly interrupted the mutual stare. "hnngg ooow, it hurts" the boy cried " i have to get this out. I can't hold it anymore"

"Go on" said the girl. " I'll be here to help you calm down so you can finally go"

Something in her voice suddenly made everything feel ok. feel natural.

A huge bubbly growl made the boy clutch his belly and moan. The girl ran her hand up and down his back and with a big push all the overdue shit came sputtering out of the boy. Finally!

It kept coming out of him in waves as he pushed. " it hurts so much" he cried. His poor belly contracting non stop. More waves, sputtering sounds. Every growl made his belly contract and he urgently pushed, expelling more liquid out of his hole.

the last couple of pushes didn't result in anything and the boy relaxed. His legs had started to cramp from the everlasting squatting posision. Now what ? He was a mess.

The girl pulled out a roll of toiletpaper from her bag. She had anticipated the outcome. The boy was grateful. The girl gave him some privacy to clean himself.

She stood on the lawn looking up at the moon when the boy appeared from behind the bushes. He looked at her. Her face had a particular glow in the moonlit air. His heart skipped a beat. He walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her. The other hand was rubbing his still sore belly. She turned around and pulled on his sleeve. He followed her to the bench he had sat on earlier. She sat down and gestured for him to lay down with his head in her lap. As he did, the girl lovingly started rubbing his belly to soothe it.

tbh i love all of your ideas! i really do love the thought of shane being the driver who has to justify the stop, bc i can totally imagine the mental & physical battle he’s having with himself trying to think of a justifiable reason to stop other than telling the ilya the truth- and i LOVE ilya fighting the same battle as the passenger and feeling like he needs to maintain his tough guy act until he can finally succumb when shane stops. and then they’re both miserable- maybe even bonus points if there’s several stops required bc i feel like even if they’ve both succumbed to the embarrassment of admitting they have bodily functions, the idea of admitting it’s worse than a one-time stop is even MORE embarrassing to admit.

and for on the ice- that sounds like GOLD. tbh i’m just getting into hockey, so i’m not sure the rules on leaving the ice, but i love the thought of ilya being “stuck” out there and battling with “i’m gonna do it, i won’t make it” and “no i have to make it, there’s no other option” until finally he just books it off the ice. maybe even bonus points if ottawa or boston is playing montreal (or shane has now joined ottawa) so even moreso ilya doesn’t want to look weak in front of shane, but he literally cannot wait. i feel like this is a situation that HAS to occur more often in hockey, but it’s so rare to hear about or see! but we get to be the ones to fictionally put them into these scenarios hahaha

💚💚💚🎉🎉🎉 and you also have excellent ideas!! Thank you!

Okay. For gas station one, truly yes Shane is like the best at overthinking and torturing himself mentally. So here's my imagined Shane logic.

Ah fuck fuck, this is bad, shit, there's no way I'm managing the whole drive like this, fuck shit shit shit okay okay so we're gonna have to stop. No fucking way am I telling ficking Ilya Rozanov ive gotta go too bad to wait, so. Another plan.

There's a station with a bathroom in 10 miles. I have ten miles to figure it out.

Okay okay so telling him I can't hold it, like a kid, like a terribly unsexy kid, that's not an option.

So. Because I'm thirsty? No, could ask why not a drive thru. Gotta be gas.

I have a full tank. Filled up before I got home. Does he know that? Probably not. You can't see the fuel gage from that angle. So unless he leans over to look.

Okay, and then how to get into building? And without him? gonna have to go in to pay maybe- say i prefer not to pay with card because of card reader scams. okay, this could work.

"gonna stop for gas in seven miles "

But ilya doesn't chirp him for his uncharacteristic lack of planning, (because ilya is too busy going Oh Thank Christ gas stations have bathrooms- I will be able to slip away somehow and die quietly and return before Shane notices I sweat through my shirt)(his shirt is black so Shane might not have noticed even if Shane wasn't also Fucking Dying )

and the best bit- what do they do if they Can't shake the other, and end up both in the gas station??? both trying to wait the other out? or in the bathroom playing the same game?

Picturing both of them ending up at urinals trying very hard to relax enough to piss without accidentally doing anything else, each hoping the other will leave first so he can dash into a stall, shit like the wind, and dash out again.

I feel like one would have to give in, I think it strains credulity that neither would get to shit and theyd have to. get back in the car. still fucking desperate. and now it's even worse because they Were Just In a Bathroom Fuck. XD

more than likely, maybe shane shane is the one who gives up and leaves and goes to pump the gas, so ilys gets to shit, and then maybe shane finds his oppourtunity when he says the reciept didn't print some he has to go back inside for it?????

or, poor bastard, he's the one who doesn't get to go at all, BUT Ilya has an upset stomach, so they end up having to make a joint roadside stop anway, for Ilya to go again, and shane to go for the first time.

.

for the ice, idk that i've seen much about shitting, but I know I saw a clip from... fuck, was it getzky? and interview where he talked about a multiple-overtime game where he was so fucking exhausted that he could, like, barely feel his muscles at all let alone control them, and he either got bumped while on the bench, or just randomly on the bench, he just started wetting himself, and either he told the guy next to him, or the guy noticed...

but like i think i understand that actually they are sweating so goddamn much basically doing a minute of sprints aver four minutes that they don't get desperate to pee that often, staying hydrated is the bigger challenge...

which has GOT to mean diarrhea is a more common problem for them.

also the thing where any time one teammate gets a bug, fucking everyone immediately gets it (fucking Olympic Noro virus, and also the time a shitton of the NHL had measles and poor crosby had to tell the media they DIDN't all have measles, while looking like a chipmunk trying to smuggle a Tire out of Costco via his jaw.

you just KNOW any time the pike kids get sick, the metros are all down a week later, and 3/4ths of anything Marlow Gets, Ilya gets too, and promptly infects the rest of his team with.

so if Ilya has a close call night and It's a virus, like half the team is out like two days later. XD

and Ilya and Shane must be FOREVER giving each other horrible colds and viruses and shit. XD

(not really proofread- I'll end up cleaning this up lol and crossposting, so I'll proof it then)

First time at the cottage- first time Ilya is eating shane's preferred diet perhaps? and they're swimming and working out and having adventures in between all the fucking, right, but even if it's the offseason, and even if Shane made sure to have stuff at the house that Ilya like/would normally eat (and ilya's a goddamn professional athlete, not like he eats complete trash, but still)... it's maybe a lot more fiber than Ilya is strictly used to (colon cancer is a real concern, ilya).

In the first little while, still more burgers than beans and lost in a warm haze of fucking and falling in love, ilya doesn't notice.

but partway through or towards the end of that first week, the diet shift hits him. while on a hike.

they both used the bathroom before they took off, and Ilya felt no shame about stepping off the path to piss on some tree roots a couple hours in, after their "picnic", before they started the return, and Ilya felt... maybe a little heavy? But what was there to worry about.

(And he stepped off the path first, but shane joined him immediately, and pissing side by side felt... comfortable, intimate, in a way it didn't normally, in a urinal or something. Ilya policed himself for a moment, when he had the urge to look... and then remembered that, probably, he was allowed to look. so he did, and found shane already looking, and as he shifted his feet, and his stream drifted a little, he saw shane's gaze follow the movement. a little shiver of something went up his spine, and he didn't know what to do with that, so he turned and angled towards shane, who jerked back with an offended noise, until he realized Ilya was just messing around and crossing their streams. it was... was pissing supposed to be fun? it hadn't been this silly fun comfortable since Ilya was a kid, and he was a tiny bit sad when his bladder was empty, and he had to stop. though he enjoyed watching shane blush a little as he kept going, noticeably longer than ilya had. he must have had to go even before they stopped for lunch. why hadn't he said anything? that little shiver happened again, as ilya thought about shane sitting on his little rock, eating his little bean sprout sandwich, bladder full and aching...)

So ilya hadn't thought much about the heaviness- his body, heart, mind, were otherwise just so light light light.

but the exercise, on his grain toast and hummus and so many vegetables sandwich, maybe wasn't ideal.

ten minutes back down the path, Ilya's stomach twists for the first time, and it's sharp enough his hand darts down for a moment.

but it eases.

"You okay?" shane asks? because of course mr observant noticed.

"Fine." Ilya says, and hopes shane lets it go. it'll be fine.

shane does not let it go, partly because another cramp twists, breaks, relaxes, and Ilya hesitates as he walks, gait changing just enough.

he catches shane looking at him, and shane tilts his head. Ilya waves it off.

the next cramp resolves in pressure, gas, and Ilya tries to be subtle as he drops back just a bit, politeness, so Shane does not have to walk directly through.

it's noticeable, but not too loud, and Shane giggles.

"Is your sprout things!" Ilya accuses, jumping on the opportunity to harass Shane again, "never have I eaten so many different kinds of plant in same sandwich."

Shane is smiling and shoves his shoulder

"oh, is canadian sprouted wheat too much for russian stomachs? you can drink as much vodka as you want, but a little fiber-"

Ilya farts again, and decides he will not be polite the next time. Shane can deal with it.

"Russians have stomach of iron."

the next fart is loud, and long, and Ilya clings to pride with his fingernails.

It's funny for a while, but while passing the gas creates some relief, the cramping continues, and Ilya is suddenly extremely suspicious of how... mobile, his guts feel.

"An hour and fifteen I think?" Shane says, "Maybe just an hour. Until we get back."

Ilya looks over.

"You got quiet. if you want to take a break, sit down or something-"

Ilya makes a derogatory noise.

" 'sit down' he says" really, what did Shane think his response would be, "Very good and expensive athletes, and he says 'sit down' because of bean."

the next cramp almost takes his breath away, and he feels things moving down down down.

or secret third option, give in entirely and let it all loose