The return trip to their car seemed to take twice as long as the journey in -- four times as long, perhaps? The time taken in the car had been the opening act. The day was dragging on, and the rising drama had onset, but unlike any well-managed theatric stage production, the climax -- the turning point of his problem -- didn't seem to want to arrive.
The heat just kept growing, the problem just kept on multiplying.
It had been hours, longer than Jeff had thought physically possible. Thankfully, the trail had veered away from the river and waterfall, with the particularly inescapable constant sound of rushing water fading from earshot. It was simply back to walking, and this alone was a special type of punishment. The bra-cup was hopelessly outmatched by the crotch-breast in its current state, and though it was still holding everything in place, if just barely, he could feel the imprints of its struggle. Everywhere, he could feel it.
He could feel the way the breast dragged against the material of his pants, making more contact with the fabric than it had even a half hour ago. He could feel how more of it touched his thighs, the skin tauter. He could feel how all through it, his nerves seemed more sensitive, his body more keenly aware. He could feel the constant pressure, the gradual building flow that seemed to continuously add on, drop after endless drop.
Most of all, Jeff could feel that it was past the point of full that it had reached in the pool shed, and by his terrified and desperate estimation, it had swollen even larger to meet the demand.
Fearful but desensitised, his mind shut down to the worst of his horror, he plodded along behind his father, keeping up a brave face. One foot after the other, the impact of shoe on ground sending tremours through him that seemed amplified, each tiny ripple in his crotch feeling like a tidal wave wanting to escape. Every footfall! Jeff didn't know how he was continuing to deal with it, only that he HAD to, if he wanted to get out of this without creating some kind of life-destroying public incident.
Then, a chance!
Midway along the return leg, there was a clearing by a little rest-stop, and with it, to mitigate the closure of the public facilities, was a portable toilet. Jeff had never been more thankful for the sight, and the family slowed as they arrived next to it. There was a queue of other walkers waiting, six or seven people, and immediately his mom turned to them.
"Does anyone need to take a break? Here's your chance."
YES! Jeff opened his mouth to reply, ready to agree to almost literally anything, even if it meant sitting around to wait for fifteen minutes, but before he could say a word, Jack's nefarious sense of timing and deviousness just had to spoil everything, and snatch the opportunity away.
"I went earlier, so I'm okay, and I think dad did too, so we're good." Jeff's dad nodded, wordlessly agreeing with the middle son, and Jack pointed at the line of people, some of whom looked like they'd been waiting for a few minutes. "Mom, I thought you said you didn't want Josh home too late for a proper nap? We could be here for a while."
"Listen to you! You're being very considerate today, Jack." Their mom smiled warmly at him, and clearly believing the matter over without further input, turned away. "Well, that settles it. Let's keep on then."
The moment their mom and dad weren't looking at him, Jack immediately caught Jeff's eye with a sidelong look, his goodnatured innocent cherubic smile turning into a smirk that said it all -- 'I know you're busting, I just want to see you suffer!' -- before he was off after the adults, leaving Jeff staring, mouth open in stupefied disbelief.
No way!
That DIDN'T just happen!
No! He had a chance, and now- ... NO!
Swallowing heavily, he began following them, casting pained glances at the queuing patrons outside the portable bathroom, wishing with all his might to swap places with any one of them, for however long it took. Then he was back to the slow pedestrian slog of his own private hell. Foot after foot. Foot after foot. Liquid -- so much liquid -- trapped inside! So much, unable to be free!
Finally, an indeterminate number of minutes later, they emerged from the forest trail back into the carpark. His mom was in the lead, as she had been for most of the day, and Jeff was behind the rest a few paces, the act of walking itself having become so ridiculously uncomfortable that he wasn't sure how he was managing it at all. Then, out of nowhere, there was a flurry of barks and in between them burst a dog, a lean brown boxer. It was dashing about, excited to be off its lead in the safety of the carpark and out of its owner's car, and Jeff paused to let it frolic by. He liked dogs, and watching it play was a moment's distraction from the utterly fateful depravity of the day. Stopping next to the curb on a boundary marker, the boxer sniffed, then lifted a leg and began to pee, the tongue lolling and head cocked, for some reason chosing to focus on and stare at Jeff while it did so.
Jeff blinked, staring back.
Seriously?
Did this damn mutt somehow know? Did the whole world secretly know? Was everybody out to play tricks on him, and mock him? Was his life all just an enormous cosmic joke?!?
Clenching his fists and biting his tongue, Jeff turned back to follow his family, trying his best to keep his gait even for the final few feet to the car, though his movement had degenerated into some kind of lumbering waddle at the eleventh hour. Getting to finally sit was a minimum of relaxation that really didn't do much to help him, and a minute later, everything was safely stashed and his father was starting the engine. As they cruised out of the parking lot, Jeff glanced at the utility block, only to see a handyman exit, from the men's side, stopping to remove the 'out of order' notice, and stride off towards the office, toolbox in hand. Glancing in front to the car's dash, Jeff saw the time on the digital clock.
4.57pm.
No!
Fraught, hot with a streak of crazed angry delirium, Jeff could only watch out the window as they drove away from the now-open and newly-available park toilets.
Why couldn't they have waited another two minutes before leaving?
WHY?!
Feeling sorry for himself, he bit his lip, ignoring Jack's inane chatter to their dad and his mom babying Josh in the front seat. The world sucked, and Jeff had never felt more pathetic than at that moment. He crossed his arms, noting that even the slight weight of his arms against his abdomen could be felt in his super-sensitive crotch. He was steeling himself for the trip, and how every vibration and little bump was like a jolt to the squishiest part of his nethers, and Jeff stared at the outside flashing by, blocking it all out as much as he could.
Pulling over at a gas station maybe half an hour into the long drive back, Jeff was still out of it and not really paying attention, too lost in his thoroughly miserable day, but his mom speaking to them from the front brought him out of his reverie.
"For you, honey, since you've been such a sweet diligent brother and a good sport today." She cracked a soda can, and handed it to Jack, who gleefully took it. Then, she cracked a second one and held it out. "And for you, Jeffrey. Despite your behaviour and how you should know better than to act so irresponsibly, I still love you." The stern look eased. "You didn't have anything to drink earlier and it's been a long day. You need to stay hydrated."
"Mom, I-"
"Jeff, listen to your mother." His dad plopped down into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut after having filled the tank. He hadn't even heard the original comment, but he was giving his two cents anyhow. "She knows best."
"That's right." She smiled at her eldest son, trying to prove she had a soft side, and pushed the can into his hand, thinking she was offering him a delicious cold treat after a warm day outdoors. "It's open now. Finish it all, and we'll be home in a little over an hour. No buts, sweetheart."
The engine was starting again, but Jeff could only sit, clutching the cold metal of the can, wondering if he was being punished for sins in some previous life. The scent of carbonated orange hit his nose, and he wanted so very badly to drink, but he knew- ... he knew where it would go.
Exactly where it would go.
His aching, freakish, over-filled, bloated, larger-than-life, insufferable, crotch-breast.
But ... he HAD to.
There was no way he could refuse his mom's gift, not after everything that had happened during the day.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted the can to his lips, hesitating for a moment with it poised there, and -- screw it! -- he swigged the whole thing. It was delicious, and cool, and refreshing, and after he had drained the can, and placed it into the rubbish bag, he sighed the sigh of a boy who was on a deathmarch to some kind of waterlogged hell.
All Jeff could do was repeat in his head: it's going to pass, it's going to pass, it's going to pass.
I can make it until home.
I can get there.
The soda didn't take long to do what he was afraid of. If his crotch-breast was already at 110% capacity, past where it was meant to be, then adding a can's worth of soft drink had pushed it all the way to a solid 125%. He could barely think straight anymore, the celestial joke of making him suffer this way seeming to go beyond any kind of normal human reaction into the blatantly cruel. Starting to feel like he was going to go crazy from the absurdity of having it actually grow physically bigger, Jeff went back to his state of zen, trying to tune out everything in order to preserve his sanity.
A good forty-five minutes later, he heard his mom speaking. Jack was ignoring them, napping against the other window, and his dad was concentrating on the road, but his mom was looking back at him with a curious expression. "Do you hear that, Jeff?" She spoke softly, so as not to wake his brother up.
He listened, and ... he heard it.
Quietly, the trapped liquid in the breast was splashing back and forth. Quietly, but certainly audibly, Jeff could definitely hear the urine inside his own body as it rolled around in gentle but completely agonising waves. Horrorstruck that he could not just feel but now also hear the source of his woes, he wanted to scream out loud for it to stop.
This couldn't be happening! How- ... how could it be that bad?!?
"Uh, um, I-... I don't hear anything," he mumbled.
"Really? It sounded like ... sloshing. Maybe there's something wrong with the coolant, or wiper fluid?" Frowning, she turned back to the front.
Keeping his breath steady, his nerves frayed to the point of breaking, Jeff sat as still as possible for the remaining quarter of an hour to their home. The sloshing sound was very real, and to him it seemed like the volume of a fog horn -- one that he had to pretend he couldn't hear, let alone feel with every microsecond. His beloved penis had been traded for a water balloon, and no sooner than they had turned into the driveway, he was already unbuckling his seatbelt, ready to scramble for the facilities inside as soon as he could.
But, there was just one more delay.
"Jeff, make sure to unload. Jack helped this morning, so it's only fair you repay that now." His dad's edict was fair play, and Jeff was run too ragged to care.
He'd walk over hot coals for a chance at the bathroom. He'd carry a mountain to the moon and back! He'd do whatever he had to!
"S-Sure thing, dad!" Nearly shaking from eagerness, once the engine died, Jeff tumbled out of his door, and pulled the hatch open. Gathering all of the belongings with a hug of his arms, he snapped up everything from the trunk that he could take in one sweep. Dropping one bag, he leaned down, the mammary compressing with an awful tightness from the bending motion that made him wince, and he snatched it from the ground. He waltzed across to the door, foot tapping as he waited for his mom to unlock it.
Then he was inside, to dump it all on the kitchen table.
"Josh's toy bag as well, please darling." His mom's request was a politely phrased demand, and without the energy to contest it, Jeff hastily but surreptitiously waddled his way back out to the car. He scooped up the bag, only for the toys to tumble out of it. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he gathered them up, stuffed them into it, and hauled it with him, along with all the random clothing items he could hold, just in case. Stumbling back inside, he lugged the things to join the rest in the kitchen, and his mom gave him a thankful smile, before he was finally, and mercifully, set free.
As soon as he was at the stairs and out of her view, Jeff took off, speeding up them like his life depended on it. Straight to the bathroom, he rapidly stripped off his layers, needing to get it all out of the way -- sweatshirt and tee first, then pants, and finally the bra holster. He almost tore it off his body in his hunger to get ready, the device far too inadequate for him now, and it popped loose leaving him naked, standing in front of the toilet.
The crotch breast rested easily against both thighs, swollen larger than he had ever seen it, the skin tight. It was full and then some, forced over-capacity, having grown at least one cup size larger, probably two. The teat was engorged, pushed out from the excess liquid, and Jeff licked his lips, his hands trembling, as he pointed it at the bowl, then gripped the highly sensitive flesh on both sides, near the base.
And ... squeezed.
It was so densely stuffed full of fluid, that he didn't even need to milk it.
Just ... squeeze.
A torrent of urine burst from the nipple, jetting forward with enough pressure to rival a horse. Jeff threw his head back and moaned aloud, all subtlety gone, the pee cascading forth in glorious release. Hours worth of torture were expelled, the stream thick and constant and blissful, a thundering waterfall of satisfaction into the cistern. He bit his lip, eyes half-lidded as it poured through him. It was a dozen seconds at least until it slowed to the point where he needed to move his hands, but even then his milking continued for at least a dozen seconds more.
At least.
The sensation was cathartic and relaxing and so ecstatic, like a thousand little waves of relief, a repeating tide of dancing endorphins that moved with his fingers, that begged him to keep squeezing the breast-flesh until it was empty. His moans raised in pitch, going a little higher, and then lower again, legs akimbo, hips thrust forward, peeing like a proud teenage boy, fingers massaging his female breast with expert care, coaxing every last bit of it out of the nipple, in a state of extended euphoria.
Right when he felt as though it was nearly finished, a hidden secondary reservoir was released by his kneading, and the diminishing flow ramped up again. Jeff was only halfway there, and more urine surged and gushed, blasting out with renewed force. There was far more inside him that he could comprehend, and he whimpered, slackjawed, almost drooling, as he wallowed in the rapture of it leaving him, ounce after ounce pelting the bowl. He wanted the elation to keep going forever, and as he reached the remaining third, quarter, fifth -- oh, that was it! Right there! -- he groaned at the deep primal perfection of emptying himself, completely in love with the sensation.
At last, having evacuated more than a human being should hold, Jeff finally stopped, his breathing shallow. He was light-headed and dizzy, but felt very calm, serene, and buzzing all over with something like a post-orgasmic glow. Reaching over, he pulled a square of toilet paper while he settled his breathing, and brought it across to dab around the nub. Gently, he cleaned off the urine, and thought about how fucking amazing the experience was -- better than all the milking he might have done? Yes, almost certainly.
Dropping the paper in the toilet, Jeff nodded to himself, thinking it over. After all the crappy stuff that had happened to him during the day, this was his reward. Perhaps, having it wasn't quite so bad? Placing both hands on the curved surface, the soft round mass now returned to its regular, albeit substantial size, Jeff gazed down at it, and gave his crotch-breast a very light, tender rub, stroking the sensitive skin. Maybe, there was more to having this than he thought?