I am indebted to the kindness of a good friend - AB - for help with writing this and am most grateful for his assistance. It is entirely a work of fiction and resemblance to real persons, living or otherwise, is totally coincidental. I have posted this elsewhere so apologies if you met with it before. However I hope you enjoy it.
*****
The director yells "cut" yet again. Jonah apologises sheepishly. What should have been a simple shoot for this advert is now in danger of running into a fourth hour. Something just keeps preventing Jonah from getting through the whole 30-second bit in one take.
And now he has swigged so much of this new energy drink - Black Mamba - that he is beginning to fear what it might be doing to his insides. His belly bubbles furiously with gas and at the back end of his lengthy urethra, his bladder is feeling close to full.
The shoot has to be in the can in another half-hour. The director, a slim, pretty woman from Manhattan in her early 30s grows impatient as Jonah requests a 'lunch' break. His plea,
"Can we take a break now?"
Falls on deaf ears and she orders him to carry on with the shoot.
He grits his teeth. Not what he wanted to hear. What a bitch! He eyes what will be his sixth can of Black Mamba with trepidation. A few swigs from this will push the morning's fluid intake well over the over the 2 litre mark if the Evain he sipped on the Metro is taken into account. That, of course, is without even considering that rather large mug of breakfast coffee.
Everyone takes their places. Jonah's role entails him walking from one side of the set - a replica of a two-bedroom apartment - to the other. This will no longer be easy for several very good reasons, something makes the director cry "cut" yet again immediately as he walks into shot. Clearly he's having some difficulty walking. His mammoth penis is now prominently engorged inside his pants and it's distracting her as it has done all morning.
The director lady comes over. She is as visibly flustered as he is. Not only is she facing a failed shoot but she is being confronted by the trouser peg of all trouser pegs. It bounces and strains against the fabric of his leather jeans. Two thoughts occur to her. Firstly she can't help wondering what it must be like to have a penis that size inside her and tries to put the thought out of her mind. Secondly it occurs to her that he's been downing cans of that energy drink all morning without taking any comfort breaks. There is another bulge above his waistline which, if not completely absent, was nowhere near as prominent when they began filming over three hours earlier. She demands an explanation. Jonah apologises as profusely as he sweats, telling her that the burgeoning flood inside his bladder can only be contained now with a little self-stimulation between takes.
She agrees, noting that his urine-filled bladder must also be rubbing against his prostate. Realising what Jonah's earlier request for a lunch break was really about, she allows him five minutes to find and use a bathroom. His relief is palpable. He remembers with fondness the enormous, amazingly relieving wee which took whilst showering at 7.00am, releasing eleven hours' worth of glorious, golden pent up pee. They'd started filming at ten and, despite the passage of some three hours enjoying taking that glorious early morning relief, he'd felt fine at the time. Fine, that is in the sense of having no real need to use the bathroom although he could effortlessly have obliged if, as happened in some studios, he'd been asked to supply a water sample ahead of filming.
Three hours on and it's one o'clock - the hour at which most civilised people break for lunch - and he's feeling rather differently. At eleven he'd begun to sense a noticeable need to pee, albeit one he could ignore, but by noon with a couple more cans inside him he was growing desperate and now he was getting frantic.
Grateful for being excused, he is thus allowed five minutes to find and use a bathroom. Trouble is, he has no idea where one is. He exits the studio. No-one's around. He feels free to grab his crotch with both hands, squeezing his lengthy urethra shut through his tight leather trousers. He runs in an extremely fidgety manner down the corridor, past other studios, but not a men's room in sight. He belches obscenely a couple of times, the gas in his belly still not settled. He's used up one minute already getting to the end of the corridor and panics somewhat. There is a men's room somewhere, possibly, on the next corridor. Hopefully it's not too far. He doesn't like to be that close to pissing himself without knowing precisely where a facility is to be found.
Jonah turns right. Unfortunately for him, the gents were to the left.
As he runs along in a curious half-crouch, bent double, already halfway through undoing his flies and feels his urethral opening spasming and his bladder bulging in all directions with the pressure of almost 2 litres of unreleased pee he fails to spot and trips over a over a 'Caution Wet Floor' sign. He tumbles and lands right on his extremely full bladder. A couple of spurts of urine escape from his urethral pipe, but he squeezes hard and manages to clamp off before any more escapes. For him that was no small achievement. Experimenting in the past with releasing a couple of spurts to ease pressure on a distended bladder he'd found it rarely worked well. Generally he'd ended up pissing himself, and struggled to avoid the understandable conclusion that he was an 'all or nothing' man. Today however luck was on his side and he managed to avoid the worst case scenario - temporarily at least.
Unfortunately, his landing in the big puddle left his crotch area looking like an accident had happened. It wasn't helped by swivelling onto his buttocks. Alas the fall also dislodged some more of the terrific quantities of gas in his belly. He felt a massive fart coming along. Jonah clenched his anus to keep from farting but in doing so sent his huge cock springing out of his flies. From choice he preferred flieless pants but the studio had been quite specific that for this particular shoot he'd have to wear ones with flies.
At that precise moment, a woman came round the corner looking for the ladies room - blond, petite but round in the boobs and butt. Unable to control himself completely Jonah released another couple of large pee spurts and she was hit in the eye by them. She hadn't initially noticed Jonah and didn't realise what exactly has happened, but was shocked and temporarily blinded.
Jonah, in a state of shock himself, covered his large cock and dived into the ladies. However, the woman he'd just inadvertently hit in the eye with his piss was on the warpath. She angrily followed Jonah into the ladies, demanding to know who the 'prankster' was.
"Come out! I know you're in here!" she yelled as she entered. Jonah had retreated into the furthest of the cubicles and found himself crouching on top of the bowl, shivering with fear of being discovered in this position; in the ladies room with his enormous cock hanging out of his trousers. To make his situation even worse, he was hovering right over the salvation that his extremely full bladder so desperately needed but felt unable to pee. Even more desperate to piss and fart than ever, he peed.
"Can't... hold it... anymore..." whimpered Jonah and his cock lets forth a powerful stream. With his erection it shot up over the top of the cubicle and sprayed all over the ceiling and room immediately outside.
Momentarily he lost in blissful relief but, after half-emptying, realised where it was all going. He grabbed his cock and tried to angle it downwards into the bowl. All could manage though was to point it so that the stream shot under the door. Then he turned round and tried to point it at the bowl. Instead he slipped and hit his head on the door. His long pee continues spraying wildly, now over himself. By the time he'd finished, all 2 litres in his bladder had emptied everywhere but into the toilet. The blond woman who followed him into the ladies was stunned, as was the girl in the other stall. The whole bathroom stank of Jonah's piss and he lay dazed in one enormous puddle.
When he finally came to, Jonah found that he was stark naked. The blond woman had taken her revenge for spraying his urine in her eye. Thankfully, he had none of his valuables in his trousers. But he knew he must return to the set with only minutes left of the shoot and no clothes on. Although it's not his thing at all, Jonah proposed to resume filming the ad nude and his offer was gratefully accepted. A couple of advertising bods actually believed this is a brilliant idea and went off to write some new commercials, the shooting of which over the coming week will keep the crew in bread for several months.
Luckily the crew got over their initial shock at his appearance and decided to honour him with a round of drinks. He politely declined any offers of alcohol as preferred not to drink at lunchtime, but kindly accepted two pints of Diet Coke and was delighted to be told that a box of 12 bottles of excellent Chilean Merlot would be delivered to his apartment the next day along with enough of the Black Mamba energy drink to keep him happy for a year.
Later on he collected his coat and takes a pair of sandals for his feet. With his belly sloshing full of Diet Coke, he decided to set off for Starbucks ten blocks over to begin his date with a female admirer.
Approaching Starbucks and what he hoped would be relief, Jonah spotted Carla. A dashing hot brunette model. She'd done adverts for Pepsi, and appeared in Madonna videos. She was worth $48 million dollars and had her own show on MTV. They'd skped a couple of nights ago and the recognition was instant.
"Hiya! Jonah?"
"Hi Carla. How's it going?"
