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After a long, fun evening at the team barbecue, Shane and Ilya were finally headed back home. The drive from Bood's house to their own wasn't too long, but they did have to take the highway. It was usually about twenty minutes, which Ilya was grateful for, because he had started feeling the need to poop about an hour ago. Knowing that they would be leaving soon, he'd waited to go in the privacy of their own home rather than using the bathroom there. The quickly building pressure in his bowels was making him second guess that decision.
He had eaten a pretty ridiculous amount of food, like he always did at Bood's barbecues. At this point, he and Shane both knew that Ilya would be spending some time in the bathroom every time they came home from one. It didn't help that Ilya had been a little backed up recently, and he hadn't had any decently productive bowel movements in a couple of days. The little that he had been able to get out that morning did not do much in the form of relief, and he knew that there was a lot stored up. It seemed that his body was choosing now to finally get things moving.
"How much longer do you think?" he asked Shane, "Like fifteen minutes?"
Shane nodded. "Yeah, about. Why? You okay?"
"Yes," Ilya said, fidgeting a little in the passenger seat, "I just have to go to the bathroom." He could feel it lodged in his stomach all the way down to his ass. It was going to be a lot.
"Pee?" Shane asked.
Ilya blushed a little. "Ah, no."
"Oh," Shane said, quietly understanding, "Okay. I will try to get us there fast."
Shane picked up the pace, and Ilya tried to relax. He could wait fifteen minutes. It would be a bit uncomfortable, sure, but he could do it. He folded his arms over his middle and slouched in the seat a little to help with the stomach ache.
A few minutes later, Shane started slowing down. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled. Ilya looked up to see a huge line of cars backed up on the highway at a dead stop.
"There must have been an accident or something," Shane said, "I can't even see where the traffic ends. Fuck, this is bad. We can't even get to an exit now."
Ilya started to panic a little. By the looks of it, they were going to be stuck there for quite some time, with no way out and nowhere for him to relieve himself.
"Fuck, Shane. I really have to go."
"It's bad?" Shane asked.
"Yeah, pretty bad. I have been constipated the last few days. I've barely gone at all, and I just ate so much food. My stomach really hurts."
Shane reached over and put a hand on his leg. "It's okay, you'll make it. It looks like this has been here for a while judging by how many cars there are, I bet they'll have it cleared up soon."
Ilya wasn't so sure. They were completely stopped, and there were no signs of movement. His stomach grumbled as things moved around inside him, and he felt a bubbling sensation traveling downwards.
"Fuck, can you roll down the windows?" Ilya asked. He felt a sharp cramp and more bubbling. "I have to fart, I'm sorry."
"It's okay, babe. I want you to feel better," Shane said, rolling down all four windows.
Ilya grunted and sighed as he let out a long fart. Just as he he finished, he felt another one coming, and pushed that out too. It was followed quickly by a third.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, I can't stop. My stomach hurts so bad," he said, wincing as he felt another one building up.
"Don't apologize. Do whatever helps," Shane said, grabbing Ilya's hand.
Ilya let a few more farts go, but the thick log of shit started pushing to get out. He tensed his hole, fighting to keep it in. His stomach was in knots, and he was starting to feel hot. Sweat was forming on his furrowed brow, and he squeezed Shane's hand tight as a particularly bad wave of urgency passed over him.
"Mmmmm, Shane," he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning his head back, "I have to go so bad."
"I know, baby, fuck, I wish there was something I could do. Just hold on for a little longer, okay?"
Ilya nodded his head. He didn't want to tell Shane, but he was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it. Even if the traffic did clear up, they still had about ten minutes left on their drive. He barely felt like he could hold it for another minute, let alone ten. And that was if the traffic cleared, which wasn't looking very promising.
He pressed his legs together as tight as he could, and clenched down hard. His breathing was labored, and he was squeezing the life out of Shane's hand. There was so much tension in his gut; he could feel the pressure of the backed up load through what felt like his entire abdomen and backside. There was so much. He felt impossibly full.
He had to go so bad, it was almost making him nauseous. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was throwing up, so he fought the feeling hard.
"Oh my god, I do not feel good," he moaned.
Shane looked so worried he was almost in tears. "I feel so bad. Can I do something? Anything?"
Ilya shook his head. "Just let me keep holding your hand. Is helping I think."
It wasn't, of course. At least not in any physical way that could stop his impending accident. But Shane didn't need to know that.
He took long, deep breaths through his mouth. He couldn't relax even a little bit. His whole body felt tight and achy from tensing so hard, fighting the overwhelming urge to let go.
He felt like he could lose control at any second. The traffic hadn't moved an inch, and he knew that he wasn't going to make it. He couldn't get out of the car, because everyone would see. There was nowhere for him to go, and nothing he could do. He was going to shit his pants.
"Are you okay?" Shane asked.
"I'm really not." Ilya's voice was trembling.
One of the worst waves of desperation he had ever felt came flooding over him. He tried to fight it, lifting himself off the seat frantically and squeezing as hard as he could. The pressure of the shit pushing up against his hole was so intense, and he felt it start to shove past his rim.
"Shane" he whined, "Oh fuck, it's- ah! It's right there, it's coming out, I can't hold it in!" It was so thick, sticking an inch out of his hole, stretching it wide.
"Hey, it's okay, just breathe. It's okay if you can't hold it."
The last of Ilya's resolve slipped away at Shane's words, and he felt himself lose control.
"Ahhh!" he gasped, gripping one hand on Shane's and the other on the door. With a wet, sticky sound, the massive log came sliding out of him and into his boxers.
"Ohhh fuck," he moaned. It just kept going. The hard shit turned softer, but it was still just as thick and solid. It wasn't diarrhea, it was just four days worth of backed up poop that was all trying to get out of him all at the same time. Despite the extremely unfortunate circumstances, the feeling of letting go and everything finally coming out was almost orgasmic. He felt so much relief, and he was still releasing more. Holding it in had been so painful.
"Mmmmm, oh my god, there's so much," he whined. It kept coming out, piling up in his underwear and squishing into his tight jeans. He was panting and groaning through it. "I can't stop."
"It's okay, just let it out. We'll clean up when we get home. Don't worry, you're okay," Shane said. He was rubbing soothing little circles over the back of Ilya's hand, his face twisted with worry.
Finally, Ilya pinched off the shit with his hole, and took a deep breath.
"I can't believe that just happened to me."
"It's okay, everything's fine. Do you feel better?"
"I feel so much better. I really had to go."
"I know. Is there any more or do you think you're done?"
Ilya squirmed around a little, shifting something in his gut that gave way to another cramp and the feeling of needing to push. "There's more. I can wait now though, I think that was the worst of it."
Shane stroked his arm. "Okay. Hopefully this traffic clears up soon. It can't be comfortable sitting in all that."
Ilya readjusted himself in the seat. There's was so much poop, it was squishing up between his thighs. "It's not. I'm okay though."
A few minutes passed. Shane whispered gentle, consoling words and Ilya fought the embarrassment he was feeling that he had just taken the biggest shit of his life in his pants, in front of his husband.
The cars in front of them finally started moving, and Shane breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, let's get you home," he said.
Just as they started moving again, Ilya felt another log of shit pressing at his hole. "Fuck, I still have to go," he said.
Shane looked over at him for a few moments.
"Baby," he said gently, "I think you should just let go. The damage has kind of already been done. There's no point in making yourself suffer now."
He was right. Ilya was far past the possibility of staying clean, and they still had to drive the last ten minutes. Besides, his body felt completely wrecked and exhausted after holding on for so long. He wasn't sure he could do that again.
"Okay. I'm so sorry," he whispered, grunting and pushing another log out. It came out slower, and pushed into the mess. There was barely even room at that point.
A few loud, wet farts slipped out after the log had broken off, and Ilya sighed.
"My stomach doesn't hurt anymore."
Shane laughed. "I would hope not after all of that."
When they made it back to the house, Ilya waddled through the door and straight to the bathroom, where he dumped the mess into the toilet as best as he could. Shane brought him a trash bag for the clothes, which they weren't even going to try to salvage. Ilya got himself cleaned up in the shower, and then climbed into bed with Shane.
"Are you okay, babe?" Shane asked softly.
"I'm so embarrassed," Ilya grumbled, burying his head into Shane's neck.
Shane stroked his fingers through Ilya's hair. "Don't be embarrassed. There was nothing you could have done, sometimes these things just happen. If you gotta go, you gotta go."
"I should have just gone before we left Bood's."
"It's okay. It's not a big deal, Ilya."
"I'm a grown man, and I pooped my pants like a child. I should be able to hold it!"
"It has nothing to do with being grown, sometimes you just can't keep it in. You know this. We've both done it before. Everyone has. You know I shit myself at the All Star game one year?" he said.
Ilya looked up at him. "What? Like during the game?"
"No, in the hotel elevator," Shane said, blushing, "I had actually just left your room."
That got Ilya's attention. "What do you mean?"
"We had barely started actually dating, I came straight to your room without even checking into mine. While we were hooking up, I started to have to go. Like really bad. I literally had to go to the bathroom to fart in the middle of it. I think I told you I was washing my hands."
"Wait, I remember this!" Ilya said. "You ran out so fast, said you were late for something. It was because you needed to shit?"
Shane laughed, nodding his head. "Yup. Then the bathroom in the lobby was out of order. By the time I got my key and made it to the elevator, it was too late. I couldn't hold it."
Ilya couldn't believe it. He had no idea.
"Why didn't you just go in my room?"
Shane rolled his eyes. "You know damn well I was not comfortable pooping in front of you yet."
Ilya laughed and kissed Shane's cheek. "We were so stupid."
"We were. My point is, sometimes there's nothing you can do. So don't be embarrassed. Plus, you know I think it's hot when you get desperate like that. Even more when you lose control."
Ilya looked down at Shane's dick, which was hard and leaking.
"I can help you with that."