Doodle Stort: Wet Daydream
Everyone knows what a wet dream is.
Craig Sandells changed the definition a bit and made it so he intentionally has them during the day.
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Doodle Story: Wet Daydream
The dog continued to pace back and forth, waiting for that malamute he met back in the diner to finally come over to his house so they could spend some "time" together. He wished that tomorrow was today so he could impress the girl with his massive pecks. But no, time wasn't on Craig Sandells's side today, and he was forced to suffer another 24 hours. He thought about calling her over today just to kill his anticipation, but he tried that five times in the past hour, and each time she told him that she was busy working at a 24 hour diner that wasn't in town, which meant she wouldn't be back until tomorrow. The German Shepherd grumbled to himself and tried to calm down. He could wait another 24 hours...well, 23 hours and 57 minutes.
"C'mon Craig, it's just one more day. ...You can make it through one more day, can't ya?"
The shepherd looked down at his white speedos and noticed the gigantic bulge pressing against the material. Craig sighed heavily and started pacing back and forth before staring at himself in the mirror, making sure that everything was in order. He was wearing a black tank-top, and the muscles were bulging against the shirt, ready to rip it apart. His black underbelly and chest, as well as the black mask on his muzzle went perfectly along with his yellowish and tan fur. His teeth were sparkling white and his blue eyes always twinkled when the sunlight shined on them. And, once again, the dog had excellent physique. Sure, a few furries thought that he was taking steroids behind closed doors, but he just said that they were all jealous of his good looks, and they were. Still, Craig couldn't help but think that there was something horribly wrong with him or that something would go horribly wrong tomorrow when he finally met the girl. He wasn't fat-even if he was, no one would care about his musclegut and would fixate more on his gigantic abs. He checked to make sure that his breath didn't stink nine times already, and it didn't. His current attire wasn't formal, but he had muscle, so wearing speedos and a tank-top would be fitting for the malamute. He also didn't smell bad, and showered after working out in his homemade gym. He even used Axe body spray every single day.
"Hmm...what am I missing?"
Craig thought back about his years in high school, remembering all of his friends calling him a douchebag because he literally went everywhere and started brandishing his pecks in front of any bitch he could find. On a separate note, half the time, Craig didn't even refer to female dogs as actual females or women, just bitches. Sure, it said in the dictionary that "Bitch" means a female dog, but he forgot about the part that bitch is a derogatory term, and very disapproving towards female canines. Ah well, maybe if he kept his mouth shut everything would go okay. Besides, he really felt like this woman was the one for him, and he wasn't going to screw this up, no matter how much of a douchebag he may be. Craig sighed again and walked over to the set of dumbbells in his room, thinking he should distract himself by lifting weights for the next couple of hours. But for once in his life, he didn't feel like working out. He didn't feel like eating or gorging on protein and carbs or randomly abusing the heavy punching bag in his basement. In fact, now that he was thinking about all that exercise equipment, all those long, ceaseless hours of working out so he could increase his build was making him tired. Craig yawned loudly and stretched out his arms before he looked over at his massive bed. It was a king-sized bed, but Craig was so huge and took up so much space that if anyone else got in the bed, they'd probably end up sleeping underneath him. Hmm...this is gonna be awkward when we fuck, he thought. He looked down at the bulge in his speedos again and realized that his ten inch cock was...well...it was ten inches. And it was...thick. Shit, she's gonna need a new asshole when I'm done with her. Craig shook his head and erased the image from his mind, hopping over onto his mattress and sighing as he placed his socked footpaws on the bed frame. The burly canine placed his paws underneath his head and rested on them like they were his own pillow. Then he closed his eyes and sighed again as he began to daydream about the dog he ran into.
He thought about dragging her into his house and slamming his muzzle against hers, kissing her so much that slobber was flying all over the place and he'd probably bite her lip. He thought about the nice rack she had. Sure, she was wearing a waitress uniform when he first met her, but he could tell by how they were pressing on the fabric on her shirt that they were probably large, or at least immaculate. Man, they must've felt amazing too. Craig remembered when his friend made fake breasts out of lard, but it was nowhere near what the real things were. And her body was so perfect and pristine; there were no disgusting boils or pimples on her face, or revolting birthmarks that could make someone gag. Her hair was short and smelled of fragrant shampoo, and her body smelled just like a bottle of lotion. Not to mention her ass; it was completely round and always swished left and right when she walked. Craig thought she should've been a model. She definitely had potential, and would probably look great in a dress. His phallus extended even more, and Craig's penis was beginning to hurt a little bit now. He turned around so he was lying on his stomach before he heard his stomach gurgle a little. Craig just remembered that he had a lot of soda to drink for lunch and hadn't used the bathroom in quite a while. But he didn't care, even when he felt some of the urine reaching the tip of his dick. He just continued to fantasize about the malamute. However, what were mere images of how she looked and dressed soon turned into whether or not someone had popped her cherry yet. It turned into graphic images of him tying her to the bed, then pouncing on her and fucking her so hard the bed broke. It turned into images of her being spanked by a spiked paddle. And that's when the most lustful image, the kinkiest act he could think of, entered his mind, and he grinned as he closed his eyes. Unfortunately, as he was thinking about this, he didn't take into account of all that soda coming back and biting him in the ass. The German Shepherd felt something trickling out of his penis and into his speedos and began to think it was just jizz, due to all the thoughts. But in reality, it was piss, and he was beginning to wet himself.
What made the situation even weirder was that he didn't even care. In fact, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it so much that he continued to piss himself, and grunted as he started to release all the urine he had locked away in his bladder. He could feel the warm, sterile fluids moistening his speedos and bleeding through the fabric onto his bed sheets. He felt like a cub again, wetting the bed like this. He hated it, and at the same time, welcomed it. He just couldn't erase that sly grin from his face as he peed all over his undergarments. He knew his speedos were quickly turning yellow and his erection grew even more. The urine was so warm that the canine wound up growing hornier just by wetting himself. Craig sighed again and let go of all the restraints, and the next thing he knew, a sticky puddle was forming underneath his crotch. He could've sworn he heard it dripping down to the floor, and when he opened his eyes to look, he was shocked that a small trickle was, leaving a noticeable stain on the carpet. Craig flipped himself over again and stared down at his now yellow speedos before rubbing the wet bulge he had and coating his right paw with pee. After chuckling to himself and feeling the warm sensation around his scrotum, he sighed again and resumed whizzing all over the undergarments. Funny, these were Craig's favorite speedos, yet everytime he wore them, he couldn't resist the urge to pee all over them. Hell, sometimes he'd take off the speedos he was wearing and put on his white ones just so he could squat and piss all over them. Other times, he'd take them straight from the dryer, throw them on the bathroom floor, and piss all over them, marking the speedos as his own. That was the primary reason why Craig was into urination. The second was because of the color and the warm feeling it gave him. Yeah, that was it: the color, he thought. Everytime he looked at himself peeing into the toilet or on the wall, he would marvel at the rich, dark golden tint it had. It reminded him of a nice glass of wine or beer, and sometimes he'd even have the urge to just drink it, to see how it tasted. Maybe it did taste like beer, and was probably even better because there was no alcohol in it (unless someone actually drank alcohol in advance) so he didn't have to worry about becoming intoxicated. Not only that, but the last time he checked, it was sterile. Man, it sure would feel warm going down his throat... Craig was considering taking off his speedos right now and pissing all over his face and maw, but he decided to stick with just wetting himself for now. So he continued to pee all over the undergarments, lying in a small puddle of his own warm, yellow fluids before the trickling became louder, and there were several trails of urine dripping onto the carpet.
But as always, everything that has a beginning has an end, and Craig felt the pressure in his bladder going away and knew that his urination was over with. He grunted and released the remaining trickles of urine into his speedos before he sighed and looked at the mess he made with a sense of accomplishment. Then he grabbed the erection pressing against the fabric and murred to himself as he spread some of the urine around his other paw.
"I wonder if she'll mind a Golden Shower... I'm sure all dogs love getting pissed on in the face."
Craig sat up and hopped off his bed before turning around and looking at his bed, admiring how large the yellow stain was. He thought back to his high school moments before he scratched his head and looked down at his dripping speedos.
"Hmm..."
Craig bent over and sniffed the wet undergarments before grimacing and looking around his room. He remembered how his friends always told him that no matter how much he worked out, he didn't reek of sweat. He reeked of piss. They said the same thing about his room as well, and were beginning to wonder why his parents hadn't eliminated the odor yet. Craig looked down at his speedos and grimaced again. Then he looked at the puddle on the mattress, the various stains on the carpet and some of his furniture, as well as the walls, the windows...and the ceiling...before he finally realized why he was worrying so much earlier.
"Maybe I should clean my room..." he said meekly.