Pissing Contest 1

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

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Pissing Contest

"Don't be a wuss!"

The drunk stallion swayed on the bar stool, the legs tipped dramatically before he, somehow, just about managed to right himself once more. The student bar seemed to vibrate with life, or at least the drunken dregs of it, and no one at all noticed him laughing raucously, slapping his own thigh as he tipped and shuddered, striving to maintain some semblance of balance next to his dorm mate, a stallion who went by the name of Gargath. They hadn't known one another before the autumn semester had begun but had become firm friends of a sort, going by the skin-deep relationship that most studying seemed to have. And, despite the fact that he was having trouble remembering what the hell his own name was at that moment in time, the black equine deep in his 'happy' sort of drink was Ethan and his was a name that the equally tipsy Gargath would remember for a long time even after they, finally, parted ways at the end of their studies.

Beers. It was the easiest way to get one's drink on and the stallions downed them like they were going out of fashion, one brown paw shooting out, the feather slightly damp from the residual moisture and stickiness that all bars seemed to boast, regardless of how often they were wiped down. Again and again, they chugged what they could, laughing and bellowing out their mirth at nothing and everything at the same time, tails hanging loosely down over the edge of the stools as they flicked and drank the night away. What were they celebrating? Ah, that was something that they'd forgotten several drinks ago and weren't all that keen on recalling even as the liquid worked its way through their bodies, tightening and drawing tension to their bladders, a powerful, throbbing force of bodily need.

"Gargath, my friend..." Ethan slurred, blinking rapidly as if to clear his vision of something or the other. "You're a real fine stallion, you know that? You really...are..."

But just getting the words out was almost more than he could do at that moment in time, shifting his weight from one seat bone to the other and tipping the stool yet again as the bay equine with a splash of white hidden, at that moment, by an old but still very much comfortable T-shirt, smiled and shook his head at him.

"Dude... Don't you think...you think...you've had too much?"

"Whaaat?"

Ethan shook his head rapidly, black mane flopping loosely from one side of his neck to the other, desperately in need of a trim for it was already becoming tangled after only being out... No, had it really been that many hours? How funny it was that time passed so quickly when they were having fun!

"Tell you something!"

Ethan hiccupped, grinning foolishly as he jostled a cougar who passed by behind him, her scowl scathing enough to cut glass. He didn't notice and flung out his arm, grabbing Gargath's as if he was going to draw the stallion in against him for something far more intimate. Yet no one could have anticipated just what the squirming, grinning stallion's drunken mind had latched onto at that very moment in time: a scheme that would set the sordid tone for the rest of the night.

"I got to take a whizz real bad," he giggled, leaning in close as if to impart a secret even as the pressure in his bladder clearly rose, wriggling in place. "But..."

Yet he had to draw back for the full effect as Gargath grinned widely and blinked at him in turn, waiting as he swayed happily. What was that stallion like, saying things like that? But it was rather a 'guy' sort of thing to be going on with and, again, to one who'd gulped down enough beer to water a farm, it didn't seem all that strange too, not at all. If he'd seen it then, perhaps the night itself would have progressed in a very different manner to how things did, from then on, play out. But that wouldn't have been half as entertaining.

"I ain't going to the bathroom here," Ethan proclaimed, somehow managing to keep most of the slur out of his words as he affected the best, most sincerely serious air he possibly could. "Too good a night... And you're going to sit right out here wi' me, stud!"

Shaking Gargath's shoulders, he bellowed out another whinnying laugh and swayed into him, although that sort of suggestion should have been tossed aside with due scorn at any other time. Unfortunately, for the two of them, it was the way of a drunken mind that one could cling to an obscene, ridiculous suggest and laud it as if it was the most poignant thing their minds could ever have come up with

"You say that," Gargath raised his voice in challenge, ears slanting back as if he was a wild stallion going in for the attack, trying to make himself look more intimidating and threatening than he actually was. "But I'm going to be the one sitting here last, Ethan! You think you're all big, what with your big talk and all that...but you can't beat me!"

It was a silly contest to get into and that, strangely, did not pass the notice of the horses themselves as they laughed and leaned into one another, hardly able to keep themselves upright as a little urine leaked out, although neither would have, of course, admitted at that point that it was already seeping into their undergarments, pair of boxers and boxer-briefs alike. Panting and gulping as he wheezed for breath, Ethan wiped away tears that proved to be but moisture wasted as his cock tried to push from his sheath even within the confines of his boxer-briefs, the added pressure of being cradled and cupped and supported just enough for the urine to squeeze itself out through the act of laughing alone.

"Another two here!" Gargath shouted to the bartending, waving two fingers in the air as if he thought that the white cat, who was stood before him, waiting, with his eyebrows raised, could not hear him. "Same again!"

"You're not driving back, you two, are you?" He said, whiskers quivering as he. "If you've got your keys there, I'll have to take them off you, you know."

But the stallions laughed and laughed, loins throbbing even as they gratefully took the next two beers that were offered, assuring the bartender that they, by no means, would be driving home and it would frankly be a miracle in itself if they managed to walk home! Neither of them had cars, of course, and wouldn't have taken the risk, especially considering just how much they had had to drink. It took a lot to get a horse drunk, after all, but not much to make one need to hose down a bathroom urinal, grunting and leaning against the wall as if to show off while whatever poorly endowed (in comparison) soul shuffled off and away from them, unwilling to get theirs out too while the stallion was showing off his rod even in the act of splattering, wetting urination.

And yet there were no cocks on show as they egged one another on to down the beers, liquid slipping down easily, froth and foam coating their soft lips. A little foam clung to Ethan's equine lips and Gargath laughed, shaking and wriggling in place as more and more beer worked its way through his system, seeming to rush with the further consumption of alcohol. That was a mistake, as it seemed, the stallion making a face as he could not help but squeeze out a little bit of piss, his lips wriggling and nostrils flaring as he resisted the urge to curl back his lip and sift through the scents of the student bar. Could he smell it? Could others smell it?

They should have stopped there and truly have called it a day but two young studs on the course of a stupid competition were not about to give up, even if the finish line rapidly approached. Trying to keep up a conversation was near enough impossible as Ethan boldly rapped the bar for more drinks, challenging Gargath, once again, to keep up with him as he downed it in one, throat working to funnel the malty liquor all the way down through his guts to his poor, aching bladder.

"I'll hold out longer than you," Gargath proclaimed in the tone of a school-colt, eyes half focused and the room spinning around him. "You're...too slow...Ethan."

But he could not help but giggle again, trying to keep his movements as small and minute as possible. The tension and growing pressure, like the swelling of a balloon that was just about fit to burst, was impossible to ignore and so was the growing sense of wetness, the lip of his sheath feeling wetter and slicker as his cock pushed out just enough to urinate. But he had to concentrate! He couldn't let Ethan win and he made a face of abject, extreme concentration, tail tucked down close to his rump as other students in the bar, for fair reason, gave the two strange, hulking stallions giggling at the bar a rather wide berth.

Alas, both of them could not hold out forever and, even as Gargath's wet spot threatened to show all the way through to his jeans, boxers already dampening and rapidly spreading through with piss, it was the black stallion who fell prey to the baser needs of one's body -- and that wasn't even sex! Nickering throatily, his ears folded back and down to the sides as if he was trying to appear submissive, although there was nothing he could do about the spreading, lingering warmth as it grew and grew, showing obviously through the front of his jeans, which were nowhere near dark enough to hide his humiliation.

"Fuhh..." Ethan's eyes glazed over, tail tucked shamefully down against his rump. "Ohhh..."

Gargath crowed and pumped a fist in the air as Ethan hastily turned his hips to the bar, hiding his embarrassment the best he could, although it was Gargath who, of course, knew the truth of it, nostrils puckering with breath as he scented the acrid tang of urine hanging more and more thickly in the air. Ethan shuddered and could not help but let out a groan too as he pissed himself, unable to stop once he'd begun, cock partly pushed from its sheath into the horribly damp and clinging and tight confines of his boxer-briefs, the poor undergarments soaked through completely as he carried on to humiliate himself in public.

But there was something strange to the sensation too as warmth seeped through Ethan's lower regions, the relief of forced release bringing a strange sort of pleasure to a drunken mind. Perhaps it would not have been so warmly thrumming if he had not drunk so many beers but it was what it was as he rounded his shoulders forward, tail half-flagged as if to proclaim something as piss soaked down his inner thighs and obviously down the front of his jeans too as he did his very best to hide his confusedly warm shame from the world at large.

"Come on..."

And then Gargath had his arm, smirking as he guided him up and away from the bar, a path clear to the exit, even if it was a wet, shuffling kind of walk with loudly clopping hooves on a linoleum floor.

"Let's get you out of here."

Ethan could have been forgiven for thinking that Gargath was being kind but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't hold out any longer either and the growing wet patch showed in the front of his own jeans, darkening the already dark fabric shamefully as he shuffled on along with his friend. It was not the end of the night but he could not bear the tension any longer even as he suppressed a nickering laugh, the tip of his cock slick with his own piss and trying to throb out fully from his sheath, boxers strained and cloyingly clinging.

A pissing contest, of course, had to have a predictable end.