moonlettuce
replied to your post “so I’ve been thinking a bit about watersports and bladder desperation……”

Peter agreeing that, for one day, he won’t do anything that he doesn’t have permission from Chris for. Only he never thought Chris would keep refusing him when he asks permission to go to the bathroom. It eventually gets too much, and Peter never expected to be so turned on by the humiliation he feels from wetting himself.

Anonymous said: “

What about if Peter was captured by hunters and held for hours, and when Chris arrives and saves him its just in time to see him completely lose control over his bladder. Peter would of course be mortified, especially about how good it felt, but Chris would reassure him its okay and actually hot. Maybe it starts them trying it out at home, like role-playing the big bad hunter and little wolf.”

Chris could’ve gone in there hours ago. The Bachman brothers weren’t really renown for their observation skills – which made it all the funnier that they managed to down Peter and truss him up like a pretty little package – and he’d been sitting comfortably in the branches of a tree watching the story unfold without anybody being the wiser.

The brothers were occupied with Peter and his situation and Peter was occupied… also with Peter and his situation (which wasn’t exactly news to Chris), so nobody was paying any attention to what was going on around them. The only interesting part was in fact… Peter’s situation.

Chris hadn’t been there from the beginning so it had not been too clear what exactly was going on, but it only took a few minutes to figure out what the problem was; at which point Chris decided to sit back and enjoy, because the thought of seeing Peter disgrace himself was making him strangely excited in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

“Are you puppy trained, little boy?” one of the brothers jeered in a babying voice that would have been grating in any other situation but right here right now, talking to this particular man was making it harder for Chris to properly sit on the branch he chose because he needed to spread his legs and give his cock some room to breathe in the tightness of his pants.

Peter had gone very quiet – a very promising sign indeed – and was just glowering up at them. It was too dark to properly see the color of his face, but it was strangely shiny and Chris thought Hale had to be sweating bullets by now.

It couldn’t take much longer. It just couldn’t. 

There was a slight movement to the bound wolf’s hips and all three hunters zeroed in on it with glee.

“Fuck. Look, he’s starting ‘the dance’. Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re getting to see this. Oh god, can you imagine? I need to take pictures, fuck!” but he wasn’t moving and Peter had stopped immediately with the sneaky little rocking motions.

This time, Chris thought his face had really gone darker with humiliation. He could feel a drop of pre-cum tickling the tip of his dick before it got soaked up by the fabric of his underwear.

One of them bend down and seized the hem of Peter’s shirt, lifting it up over his belly despite the very audible, constant growl of their prey. 

Chris let himself down from the tree, making sure to make no sound – not that anybody would have noticed him after the excited shout of “He looks fucking pregnant! What the hell did you drink, Hale? God damn…”

Chris slowly walked over – sauntered, really – as the other one lifted his foot (”C’mon I don’t wanna wait any longer.”), and the air seemed to freeze with anticipation as Peter’s eyes filled with horror and alarm as he realized what was about to happen.

Chris, too was unable to move, mouth going dry and fingers curling into helpless fists as the foot came down slowly, almost gently as it pressed against the little, hard swell on Peter’s abdomen.

There was a whine and forced panting – Peter trying to hold off against the pressure – and then mingled shouts – one of sobbing relief and anger, the other two of surprised joy, as Peter had to let go.

Chris listened to him groan as he pissed his designer jeans, eyes riveted on the dark spot quickly spreading until the fabric couldn’t soak up any more urine – and when Peter got turned on his back and had to lie uncomfortably on his bound hands, the three hunters were treated to the sight of his piss arcing up in a thick, small arc through the saturated jeans, noisily splashing down back into Peter’s lap.

Peter’s eyes were closed tight against the humiliation, teeth dug into his lower lip as he couldn’t stop what was happening; couldn’t help but piss himself like the dog he was…

…couldn’t notice Chris almost casually walking up behind the Bachman brothers and clanging their heads together as they gawked and stood, totally forgetting to take their pictures.

All that was left in the aftermath were two bodies lying unconscious on the forest floor and two men with bulging pants – because Chris couldn’t fail to notice how Peter’s cock didn’t seem as ashamed as its master seemed to be; having fattened up in the cozy warmth of the little puddle of piss in Peter’s lap.

“Bad boy, Peter,” Chris rasped and thought his grin might’ve been a little lunatic when Peter’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Chris in abject horror. “I think we’ll have to potty train you, hm?”

And to his utter delight, the bulge in Peter’s wet pants gave a promising jerk.