The sun was already low when they left the beach, spreading warm hues across the sky that seemed to reflect on them both.
Diego had a presence that was hard to ignore. Tall, broad-framed, with strong shoulders and a wide chest covered in dark hair that spread naturally down to his abdomen. His slightly protruding belly didn't diminish his imposing presence—on the contrary, it gave him an even more solid, almost welcoming air. His lightly tanned skin contrasted with the dense hair on his body.
Marcelo's face was striking and expressive. He had a full, well-distributed beard, dark brown with a few lighter strands that showed through the sun. His jaw was strong, softened only by the gentle way he usually smiled. His deep brown eyes conveyed calmness most of the time—but also carried a silent sensitivity, the kind he didn't always let show. His short, slightly wavy hair always seemed a little disheveled, as if the beach wind had decided to stay. He wore only swim trunks, which accentuated the volume of his front and his large buttocks from behind.
Beside him, Marcelo was movement and lightness. His body was leaner, naturally defined, with subtle muscles outlining his arms and abdomen. His sun-kissed skin highlighted small expression lines on his face—signs of someone who smiled frequently. Marcelo's hair was longer on top, falling unpretentiously to the side, still damp from the sea, with dark strands that sometimes reflected lighter tones under the light. He had a softer face, with balanced features, a straight nose, and lips that often curved into an easy half-smile. Wearing only shorts, Marcelo tended to be more shy and let Diego take control of the decisions.
But it was his eyes that drew the most attention: clear, lively, attentive. There was a constant curiosity in them, almost an automatic care for everything around him—especially for Diego.
They walked close together, sometimes touching lightly, still laughing at something silly from the day.
"We need to do this more often," said Marcelo.
Diego responded with a wry smile, his beard following the movement. — Escape from real life? I agree.
The atmosphere between them was light. Natural. Comfortable.
But as he walked towards the apartment, Diego felt an abdominal pain that made him squirm, bending his knees slightly. The pain subsided for a moment, but he felt it shift in his stomach.
— Wait… — his voice came out tense.
His face changed instantly. His eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched slightly beneath his beard.
A second wave of pain came on strong. A deep contraction, squeezing from the inside, taking away any control. He bent over slightly, breathing faster. He ran to the building's entrance and pressed the elevator button several times while sweat dripped from his face.
"Honey… I need to go to the bathroom… now."
Diego turned immediately, his attentive eyes becoming even more focused.
"Calm down, honey, we'll make it."
Diego tried, entered the elevator and writhed, clenching his hands, feeling the sweat trickle down the cleft between his buttocks. He didn't have time to put on his shirt, and his chest began to sweat as well. As he opened the elevator door, he ran, took two quick steps down the hallway, his heavy body reacting slower than he needed. The pressure increased, too intense. He opened the apartment door…
And then it happened. Without sufficient warning. Without control. He stopped abruptly. His whole body stiffened. His eyes widened, and for a second he simply froze, as if he couldn't process it. His anus opened forcefully and burned as a heavy, semi-solid mass filled his trunks for about a minute while Diego closed the door and called out to Diego, worried.
The loss of control was accompanied by immediate physical discomfort—a strange weight due to the mass accumulated in his trunks, which seemed to get heavier because of the weakness in his strong legs. He placed his hand on his trunks and, feeling the accident, closed his eyes tightly.
"No…" he whispered.
His face burned, the blush rising to his ears. He brought his hands to his face, hiding his expression.
"No, not this…"
Marcelo approached carefully.
"Diego…"
"Don't come near me," he said quickly, his voice heavy with shame, "I… I shit myself."
Saying that aloud seemed to make everything worse. More concrete.
Diego breathed shallowly, still feeling the physical discomfort, his body betraying what had happened. But what hurt the most was something else.
"I tried to hold back…" he said, swallowing hard, "I tried…"
He lowered his head.
"What kind of man lets that happen?"
Silence.
"I feel... ridiculous..." he continued, more quietly, "like a boy..."
Marcelo didn't let it grow.
"Hey. No."
The voice came out firm, but calm.
He approached, closing the distance.
"Look at me."
Diego hesitated... but looked. His brown eyes now exposed, full of shame.
"That doesn't make you less of a man. Not one bit."
There was a heavy silence.
Diego took a deep breath, still tense. And a pain again gripped his stomach, but this time it was quick, a new mass, this time a little more liquid, was expelled from Diego's anus. The swimsuit increased in size with the growing mass, but the liquid leaked out the edges, soiling Diego's legs. The mass shifted with every slight movement, and he felt the hairs on his buttocks in contact with his own shit. The warm sensation rose to his balls, and despite feeling weak, he felt his penis begin to harden and drip pre-ejaculate.
Marcelo watched his strong, fat boyfriend kneeling on the floor, weak and with his underwear heavy like a boy who doesn't know how to use the bathroom. For a long time, Marcelo had been the submissive one in this relationship; his penis hardened as a rock when he felt stronger than Diego. His curiosity made him make a simple gesture—he gently pulled down the back of the swim trunks and saw the semi-solid brown excrement. The horrible smell rose to his face, but he ignored it and let go of the fabric naturally.
"Okay. It happened."
Diego closed his eyes and hugged him. Without hesitation. Diego stiffened for a second, surprised—as if he hadn't expected that reaction.
"Hey…" Marcelo said, in a low voice, "it's over. You're not alone in this."
The hug was firm, warm, real.
Little by little, Diego gave in. His body relaxed within that contact.
"I'm so ashamed…" he admitted.
"I know."
"I thought you were going to pull away…"
Diego squeezed a little tighter.
— I'm coming closer.
A pause.
— Always.
Diego took a deep breath, still red, still uncomfortable—but no longer crushed.
Diego stepped back just enough to look him in the eyes.
— And now? — Diego asked.
Marcelo replied simply:
— Now we'll sort it out. Shower, clean clothes… and move on. Simple as that.
He squeezed the surface of the swimsuit to feel the mass underneath. At this moment Diego seemed to choke, and drooled a little, his face red and his eyes full of tears.
— It's viscous…
Marcelo took Diego to the bathroom and removed his swim trunks, which fell heavily onto the tile. Diego seemed weak, unable to stand on his own, staggering. Marcelo turned on the shower and ran his hand over the dirt on Diego's ass to wash it all off. At that moment, Diego was crying. Without saying a word, Marcelo spread Diego's legs, held his fat thighs with his hands, and fucked him. At this moment, Diego let out a shocked gasp, but he felt so smaller, weak, and submissive to Marcelo that he didn't question him. The moment Marcelo's penis came out of Diego's ass, more shit came out with it.
"Stop…" Diego whispered, but he had a hard-on; it was too late. The roles were reversed, and it was Marcelo who was in control, with his lean and strong body.
Marcelo didn't care about the shit and fucked Diego until they both came together in the shower. After that moment, they both washed themselves, and Marcelo put a tight white pair of briefs on Diego, which he didn't like, but it didn't matter much. He covered him until Diego fell asleep. Marcelo couldn't stop thinking that this was the most pleasurable sensation he had ever experienced in his entire life.
Diego woke up in the late afternoon, feeling his underwear tight. He couldn't stop thinking about the large mass of shit that had flooded his swim trunks until he lost all the masculinity he had. He got up, put on pants and a shirt, and went to the kitchen, where Marcelo was having coffee, staring blankly into space while smiling.
"Honey?!"
"Diego, are you okay?" Marcelo said, worried. Diego nodded. But Marcelo quickly got up and stuck his hand between Diego's butt and tight underwear and said:
"Didn't you shit yourself again?"
Diego pushed Marcelo away and said that this would happen again — "Hey, I'm a man, honey, I'm not a boy who shits himself like that."
"Aren't you?" Marcelo said.
Diego pushed Marcelo onto the kitchen island, pulled down his pants, and began to fuck him, pounding his ass at a slow but forceful pace. But Marcelo didn't seem to feel much pleasure, although he loved Diego, and if this would make him feel like a man again, they could try. Until Diego's thick penis seemed to shrink with each entry and exit from Marcelo's ass. Diego had lost his erection. Marcelo pulled up his underwear and pants and looked at Diego, who looked away in shame. He placed one hand on the kitchen sink while pulling up his pants with the other.
– Honey?
– I don't want to talk about it, Marcelo. Forget it… – Diego said this while looking at the floor.
The days passed slowly. They both worked, went on with their lives. But since the day Diego shit his pants, their sex life was never the same. Marcelo missed the control, the thrill he felt when cleaning the ass of a man bigger and hairier than him, a big and strong man. Diego could no longer feel that way; he felt weak and could soil his pants at any moment. Marcelo knew he loved Diego and knew that Diego wouldn't accept the new dynamic of their relationship, at least not willingly.
It was Sunday morning, and Marcelo had prepared a special breakfast. Diego eagerly ate everything Marcelo had prepared, although the coffee had a strange taste; the rest was very appetizing. Diego got up and put all the dishes in the dishwasher until he felt a slight tightness in his stomach. Remembering what had happened a month ago, he thought it best to go to the bathroom. However, in the hallway, everything became blurry, and he fell to the floor while hearing Marcelo say in the distance: "Sorry, love."
Diego woke up staring at the ceiling. He tried to move, but his arms and legs were trapped at the ends of the bed. As he moved, he felt a plastic sheet on his back, covering the entire bed. They were only wearing underwear, tight black underwear, but his entire fat body was exposed. Looking around the rest of the room, he saw Marcelo standing and shouted:
– What are you doing? Get me out of here!
– I can't, love, we have a problem…
– What problem? Have you gone crazy?
– You're a weakling who fills both of your grown-up boy's underwear with warm shit.
– What are you talking about? That… It was just once, don't you love me anymore?
– I'm doing this because I love you, you need to understand who needs diapers. And well, I need to take care of you… I'll be very honest, love, I've never been as horny as I was that day, and I believe you won't be able to hold your breakfast for much longer. Soon I'll have a completely covered-in-poop bear in bed, and we'll have our sex life back!
– What are you talking about? I'm not going to shit myself… – Diego remained silent while Marcelo smiled. He seemed to choke while shitting himself. For the second time. There was so much shit in such tight underwear that it wasn't possible to hold it in. The shit spilled out the edges while Diego writhed in bed until he stopped shitting and crushed his own shit with his ass against the plastic of the bed. Marcelo laughed and clapped while his cock throbbed, so hard.
– Need help?
– Help me… Please… — Diego said this while crying and drooling. Marcelo then jumped on the bed and ripped off Diego's shit-soaked underwear with his hands, throwing it aside. He kissed his boyfriend while he cried and fucked him until he came.
Diego stood there looking out the window, naked, while Marcelo cleaned him up.
– I brought this for you – Diego looked at his hand and saw a diaper. He nodded as tears streamed down his beard. Marcelo sprinkled talcum powder on Diego's large buttocks and dressed him in the adult diaper. Diego felt the padding touch his now clean buttocks. However, even after coming, Diego's father continued to release pre-cum. With the diaper on, Marcelo untied him.
Diego got up and walked to the bedroom door. Then he felt a second urge to poop. It must be because Marcelo had put a lot of laxative in his coffee or because he ate too much for breakfast. But this time, Diego didn't even think. He himself strained to empty everything into his new diaper, which, unlike his underwear, held up well to the amount of shit. He stood there feeling the shit slide between his buttocks and yelled for Marcelo….
