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Passing the Drug Test - Part 1
I knew I had screwed up, but at the time I just couldn't help it. What else was a punk star athlete supposed to do. There was a big party, I was invited, and I had to go. Of course there were plenty of off-limits offerings at hand and I took advantage. Now I had to figure out what to about my wrestling physical tomorrow. My school doesn't mess around with piss tests. Its drop your pants and piss right in front of the collector. There was no way any of the hidden bag or flesh colored catheter tricks would work. Last year I was the state champ in my weight class. It would be a total embarrassment to go from champion to being kicked off the team because of a party. I was desperate. Being desperate means turning to The Internet for help. After some browsing of the shadier corners of the web, I got a line on some local help.
I found myself pulling into the driveway of a fairly ordinary, if somewhat unkempt, two story house not too far across town. The guy that lived here said he worked with guys in my predicament all the time and that he could help. I was kind of nervous, well more then kind of nervous as my legs felt weak as I got out of the car. Willing myself like I was preparing for a match, I went for the door. Deep breath, ring the bell I told myself. Barely a few seconds after the ring, the door opened revealing my Internet savior. John (likely not his real name) quickly invited me in. John was a fairly ordinary guy probably in his early 30s from what I could tell. The inside of the house was typical bland but comfortable looking starter furniture. We quickly got down to business.
"So I understand you have to pass a drug test tomorrow right?" I croaked out a yes in reply. John assured me that it would be ok, although he ominously added in a "but" after. The process was going to be uncomfortable to painful. There was also the matter of payment. John proceeded, "normally I charge a fair bit of money when I do this as I am working with guys that have to pass a piss test to get or keep jobs. In your case, we will need to work something else out to where I can make money off of you in a different way." That got my attention. I hadn't expected help to be free, but I wasn't thinking in terms of large sums of cash. I asked, "what did you have in mind?" John said perhaps the easiest thing for me to do might be to make some porn he could sell. Perhaps a jack-off video as a deposit he said. Somewhat relieved that it would that simple, I immediately agreed. I really didn't give a rip about being hard and nude around others. After all I spent my afternoons in compression shorts on a mat with other guys crotches in my face and mine in theirs. There were very few secrets on a close-knit wrestling team and the size and shape of a guys hard cock is definitely not one of them. John then invited me to his basement.
I turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs and found myself walking into a surprising clean and well-lit space. The setup looked like part science lab, part doctors office. The floor was linoleum, with an island composed of white cabinets with a black laminate counter top. There was one of those OB-GYN chairs in the center, and an open sided shower pan in one corner. The other side had a vinyl couch with a small refrigerator next to it. John told me to have a seat on the couch while we gathered some equipment. In short order, John returned with a camera mounted to a tripod, and a second tripod with a studio light on it. Part of me found it odd that we was so well equipped for film making. I would later find out why. John quickly got everything rigged up the way he wanted and signaled that it was time for me start. I stood up, faced the camera, and tried not to simply dump my clothes all at once. I pulled my sweater off, then peeled off my t-shirt revealing my lean, toned, hard-won wrestling body. I kicked my shoes and socks off, then turned my back to the camera and slid off my sweat pants. When I turned back around to face the camera, my engorged cock was clearly visible through my underwear. I slipped my fingers into the waist band of my underwear and pushed down, revealing a trimmed pubic area and shave sack. I started working my cock as I stepped out of my underwear, getting hard with a satisfying quickness. I sat back down on the couch. In short order I was ready to cum, but John was signaling me to try and stretch it out a bit. I slowed down my strokes and took some deep breaths. Soon however, my efforts at staying back from the edge were no longer working. I looked up at John and let out a deep groan. John nodded his head yes and threw my head back and let go. Five hard shots landed on me forming a trail from the center of my pecs down to the base of my cock.
With a satisfied look, John turned off the light, then walked over to a closet and pulled out a towel and tossed it over to me. "That was excellent" he informed me. "Wipe up and come over to the chair and lets talk about what's next." As I was recovering and making my over to the chair, John pulled a large tray from one of the island cabinets. To my eyes the tray contained a length of rubber tubing, a couple of plastic bags, and a couple of syringes without needles. I really didn't understand what this had to do with a drug test. As a sat in the chair, John explained the issue. "So the problem is that you need to piss clean urine into the cup. In order to do that, we have to drain the dirty urine out of you and replace it. We need to put enough urine into your bladder that it squeezes the ducts to your kidneys shut and keeps your body from contaminating it. That can only happen when your bladder is extremely full. Imagine being three hours into a road trip after lunch where you drank three big glasses of iced tea." Seeing my grimace, John continued, "yeah, that's right, its going to be really uncomfortable, but you have to hold on to it until your test." Fortunately, the physical was going to be before classes started since part of it involved fasting for blood sugar and cholesterol testing. I would only have to last maybe an hour. Of course, John then dropped the next bomb shell. "This is going to be harder then you think. Your body will want to reject the donor urine. Its going to burn and try to force its way out. We need to get you used to it a bit. So... are you ready to give it a shot?" My full nervousness returned. John motioned for me to put my feet up in the stirrups of the chair and to lay back.
I put up a weak protest as he fastened velcro cuffs around my ankles and wrists, and a strap around my chest. John explained its to keep me from thrashing around too much the first time around. John then pulled some rubber gloves out of a box, picked up the tubing, lubed it up, and brought the end over to my cock. Instinctively I tried to close my legs and recoil from it, but I was stopped by the restraints. "Just keep breathing, this is going to feel odd, but shouldn't hurt" he told me. I willed myself to relax. John took my cock in one hand and began pressing the tube in. As promised, it didn't really hurt, but it did feel really odd. My body body started to involuntarily try to piss out the intruder, but was unable to do so. In short order, the catheter was pressing up against the sphincter muscle at the base of my bladder. John told me to take a deep breath then exhale. As I did, he pushed the catheter past the sphincter into my bladder. I felt an odd sensation of starting to urinate but then begin held up as my piss hit the plug at the end of the catheter. John used a syringe and inflated the balloon to hold the catheter in place. He then fixed one of the bags to the end and let my piss flow. I felt a welcome sense of relief as the bag filled up. "Ok, now to refill with the clean stuff. Just keep breathing. We will take it nice and slow." John removed the bag of dirty urine. We went to a refrigerator in the island and pulled out a bag of clean urine. With another syringe, he extracted some urine from the bag, and then injected it into the catheter. It took a couple of syringe-fulls for the donor urine to reach my bladder. When it did, I was rocked by an intense burning sensation in my mid-section. I yanked hard on the restraints and breathed heavily. After a minute or so I got my composure back. He pushed another load into my bladder and the process started all over again, but even worse. I threw my head hard back into the headrest of the chair and let out a yelp. My eyes were starting to water and I was trying to pull my arms free. Once again after a couple of minutes passed, I was able to recover. John held up one more full syringe. I started shaking my head my head, trying to repress crying out "NO". "You need to pass this test right? This is what it takes. Swallow it up, just like you are on the mat." I dug down and nodded for John to go ahead. John pushed down on the plunger. I felt my bladder fill to the point where I thought I was going to bust. I tried to curl up into a ball but couldn't because of the chest strap. My eyes were squeezed shut, with tears running out the side. I felt by calves and biceps start to cramp. After what seemed like an eternity, the world came back to me. In reality it was less than five minutes. I settled down to a sensation of an extremely full but manageable bladder. John told me he was now going to remove the catheter, and wanted to see how long I could hang on. He slowly pulled the catheter out, then proceeded to undo the restraints and help me out of the chair.
When I first got to my feet, I was afraid to straighten up. I just kind of stood there, hunched over at the waist, legs twisted in tight in that way that happens when you are trying not to piss in your pants. After a couple of minutes, I got to where I could straighten up, and awkwardly walk. John gave me another towel to wipe the sweat off. I then put my clothes back on, going really slowly on the sweat pants part. John instructed me to go as long as possible without pissing for practice. He told me he would see me at 5 AM tomorrow for the real run, and that we would discuss final payment at that point. When I tried to ask what that might be, he would only say it would involve a few harder core videos, perhaps with some further bondage and service. I gulped, knowing that at this point I was committed, and that I would do whatever it took.
The drive back to my house was difficult. I drive a manual transmission car. Every shift was a huge effort not to just piss all over myself. I could barely concentrate on the road. I was piss-hard and really uncomfortable. By the time I got home, my right hand was alternating between the shift lever and holding by crotch. Thankfully, I didn't have to stop and make small talk in the living room with the folks when I got back. I made it to my room and immediately stripped down. My undershirt was wet from the sweat of the effort to hold it. I got to the toilet and let go. I peed for what seemed like forever. My legs almost gave out as the sensation of relief washed over me.
As I went to bed that night, John's words rolled around in the back of my head. What exactly did he mean by "bondage and service"? In the end it didn't matter. I would clear the physical, make the team, and continue to be the school stud.