Daily Free-Write February 4, 2021

Have you heard of urtication? It’s apparently a great way to have a hands-free orgasm. And hands-free orgasms were what I was looking for since I had been relegated to chastity for the year. Two days and I had already become desperate enough to consider rubbing stingweed on my cock. That’s what urtication is, folks, and it’s supposed to be mind-blowing. A word of advice. Don’t put the length of your chastity up to a vote online because people will always go for the longest time possible. In this case, people had shared my post so many times I had to get a perma-lock for my chastity cage.

I sighed and  looked down at my tiny berry keeper – everyone was raving about it so of course I followed their advice and bought one along with a perma-lock insert. No getting out now. Unfortunately there was no getting off now. The design of the cage was open yet frustratingly prevented something as thick as a finger from actually caressing my most sensitive areas, which brings me back around to my predicament. How to get off without touching my penis. I was going mad with lust and my penis was punishing me for it. I felt a near constant tightness in my groin as time and time again the poor little guy tried to grow hard, only to be rebuffed.

I researched hands-free ways to get off and everything that came up seemed to either fall under new-agey energy manipulation nonsense, or putting stuff up my butt, neither of which I was willing to entertain. So why was I suddenly so intent on trying it? Because I had just read an article that showed clips of someone having spontaneous orgasms after rubbing it on their junk. Severalclips. The writer of the article advised  readers not to try it at night because they’d probably be up all night jizzing the bed. Was I interested? Hell yes, I was interested. Plus they said it didn’t really hurt that bad anyway. I had touched stingweed – or stinging nettle as some call it – before and I’ll say it was no picnic, but I never through to stick my dick in a patch of it. Maybe it felt different. I had been looking down at the cage for the past 10 minutes or so thinking about how those leaves and stems would be perfect to fit between the slats of that cage and debating if I was brave enough to actually go through with it.

I let the waistband of my underwear snap back against my belly, so I could stop staring at my junk long enough to type in directions to the nearest foresty-area. The creekbed behind the Bullseye supercenter it was lucky too because I needed canvas gloves and hedge clippers to harvest the dang stuff without stinging up my hands to hell and back.

“I must be crazy,” I said to myself as I walked toward the desolate patch of land behind the shopping center parking lot. And maybe I was, but I had to make my own fun since I was kinky and single, or outsource the decision making to the faceless crowds online. It was gonna make an interesting story at least. I had been posting about it since the morning. Posting links to the articles. Pictures of my poor constricted penis. Of the gear I picked up at Bullseye, and now of the young stalks of the plant that would be the best to pick. They were short, maybe knee height and dark green. And, I knew, at the microscopic level, covered in in tiny hollow silica shards coated in irritant.

“Is this cheating?” one person asked in the comments.

“If he’s willing to go that far he’s earned it!” said another.

And it wasn’t masturbation, after all, so for those reasons and more, I got a free pass. I posted another poll and everyone agreed. I could do it – so long as I recorded it all… for science.

To he honest, I was too horny to think straight. No sooner had I filled the paper bag I had brought with fresh cuttings than I unzipped my zipper, pulled my caged cock through my jeans, and began to rub the stinging plants all over the thing, stuffing leaves and stems through the little slats of the cage, poking them into the tiny mesh holes that prevented anything from touching my dickhead. I looked around to make sure no one was watching as I did this. I don’t know what I must have looked like with the paper bag conspicuously covering my crotch, my gloved free hand moving furiously and my face a mask of agony.

It hurt. It hurt like a bitch. I couldn’t believe what I had done once the pain really kicked in. I found myself actually crying. The internet had lied to me! And I had the whole debacle caught on camera. I was reduced to a sniveling mess, doubled over and holding my red and swollen groin as I cursed out a string of expletives that would make sailors blush. At least the viewers were entertained. I could see the numbers ticking up on the screen as I cried into the camera. People were actually getting off to this. Or at least having a laugh. After about 10 minutes, my cock began to go numb and I was able to toss the bag along with the rest of that god forsaken plant and leave it all behind among the grasses beside the creek. The shears and gloves could be returned, I told myself. At least then all I had lost was my dignity.

I ended the stream to a bunch of people saying it served me right for trying to get around the restrictions set in place by them.

Inside bullseye I waited in the returns line, annoyed at the total lack of sensation between my legs. How long was this going to last? At this point it didn’t seem like I even needed the cage to stop me from getting off. Finally it was my turn.

“Hi, I just need to return these. Turns out I didn’t need them after all.” I said, handing over the gloves and the clippers.

The lady at the counter looked at the clippers and gloves, still covered in moist green plant matter, then back up to me. She raised her eyebrows for a second , and then looked back down at the register as if to say whatever and tapped a few keys.

“Okay, that’ll be 30 bucks going back onto your card. Go ahead and swipe the one you want it to go to.”

“With pleasure,” I said, reaching down to grab my wallet. As I did so, I felt a warming in between my legs, then a sudden electric sensation all up and down my penis as whatever was in those nettles worked its magic. I quickly found myself holding onto the counter for stability, my open wallet draped over the edge as I began to pant at the intense sensation of stimulation I was feeling.

“Are you okay, man?” asked the cashier, as I broke into a sweat.

“I- I – I ah… yeah I’m fuh fihihiiiinnnnnneee. Unhhhh.” I tensed as I suddenly shot a fat load of spunk straight into my underwear. I was so embarrassed, but also left so weak that all I could do is stand there and babble like an idiot as the orgasm wracked my body. I turned and fled, staggering off toward the bathrooms to try and find some privacy as my thighs continued to tremble and cum continued to leak into my pants. I did my best to ignore the disgusted comments of the other patrons who could see exactly what I was doing, and the growing result darkening the front of my jeans.

As I approached the bathrooms, some kid in a red vest with short hair and a button nose approached me.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

I looked at him in annoyance. He looked like he was 19-20 at the oldest, and I was pretty sure he couldn’t help me, nor would he be able to wrap his naïve head around the concept of self-torture for sexual gratification.

“N-nuhhh… nuhh… no way k-k-kid. I’m- Unh. I’m fuhhhhhhh fuh fine…”

“Really?” He asked, falling into step beside me as I moved as fast as my wobbly legs would carry me. “You don’t look fine. Here, use this one, you’ll have more privacy.”

He didn’t give a chance to respond, as he shunted me into the family restroom.

He guided me to a low and wide granite countertop that was in the large room, and I just fell back onto the table, allowing my legs to give out as I leaned back on my hands, by legs opening wide and squeezing tightly together as I continued to moan and whimper.

“Oh god. Are you injured? We need get those pants off.”

With my hands planted firmly behind me, I wasn’t able to stop him from unbuttoning my pants and tugging at them.

“Are you pissing yourself? This is very wet,” he said, his eyes going wide and his little innocent face in shock as he peeled away my sticky underwear.  The smell hit me and it was unmistakable. I could see his nose twitching as he picked up the scent too.

“I c- c- c- can’t stop cumming,” I finally admitted, tears welling up in my eyes. It was humiliating enough to do it in front of a store clerk and a line full of waiting customers, but now I was completely exposed, my caged cock out in the open drooling out cum like it was on tap. Everything around it was quickly becoming a sticky mess, including the granite slab and the floor below.

“I guess that’ll teach you to try and cheat on that poll, won’t it, bud?”

“I…wha?” I asked, shocked. How could he know about that.

“I’ll hold onto these,” he said, holding up my soiled pants and underwear. “You wait right here. Oh, and go ahead and start that stream up again. That’s what you agreed to, isn’t it? Wouldn’t want to disappoint your followers, would you?”

He gave me  sly grin as he pulled the phone from my pants and started up the stream again, setting it out of reach on the sink to record my shameful situation.

“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Like that, he was gone. I heard the door lock behind him, which was good – at least I didn’t have to worry about some poor family stumbling onto a pantsless man shooting copious amounts of spunk onto the counter and floor in front of him.

Finally, the orgasms seemed to die down, though the electrifying feeling of stimulation and sensitivity remained. I began to wonder how I was going to get out of there without any pants. For all I knew he was going to leave me there and not return. And what could I do about it anyway? I was naked and caged, if I stepped out there with my lower half covered in cum and naked, I’d be arrested before I even made it to my car. I would just have to wait.

“At least I’m no longer cuhhhhuhhhhho ohhhh god, here it comes again!” I yelled, as a fresh wave of sensation washed over me, and I came. Hard. My cock splurting semen all over my thighs, causing me to double over and squeeze my legs together as the intensely pleasurable sensation overtook me whether I liked it or not. It was as this was tapering of that the young man returned, carrying a basket with a couple of large plastic packages in it.

“I got you something to help you out for now. You’ll have to pay for it when you get outside. Oh, and you probably best not try to walk to the register on your own. I brought a motorized shopping cart for you to sit in to get around once we get you taken care of.”

“Taken…. Care…. Of….?” I gasped, still panting from the last round of unsolicited orgasms.

“Well you’re gonna need something to soak up all that cum, and I don’t think maxi pads are gonna cut it.” Then my eyes went wide as he tore open a bag and pulled out a thick white square with printed patterns on the front.

“Diapers?!” I squeaked.

“You’re not going to stop cumming for at least 24 hours, buddy boy. You’re gonna need these. Trust me.”

“Do I have a choice?” I asked warily, knowing the answer I would receive.

“No,” he said. “Now lay back, boy. I’m putting your ass in pampers.”

I began to blubber as pulled up my legs and set me down on a thick layer of padding. He kept up a steady rhythm of speech as he went about adjusting the diaper and pushing my legs open for easier access. I was being forced back into diapers because I couldn’t control what came out of my penis. I couldn’t stop it from making a big mess everywhere, so I needed to wear diapers just like a big baby. He made this very clear, and I couldn’t say he was wrong. I hadloss control of my plumbing. And as if to prove it, I was already spunking my diapers by the time he was patting the front of my newly secured undergarment. Undergarment… under what, I wondered. He’d returned with the packages, but my pants were nowhere to be seen.

“You can go like that,” he said, his arms crossed. “When you’re done you’ll get your phone back.”

I begged him to have mercy, but he wouldn’t hear it. He just grabbed the phone and pointed it my way as he opened to door and stepped outside, holding it open. I was forced to waddle out to the cart in just my t-shirt and a diaper plop down into the cart. At least I was seated. Maybe people would think I had some sort of injury that left me in diapers with limited mobility. Of course the matted hair on my thighs was harder to explain away. As was the smeared goop on my stomach and the white splotches on my shoes. Not to mention the smell – that unmistakable smell of semen that wafted from my every pore.

I was forced to buy my new diapers at the returns window, using the return credit from the gardening implements to pay for them. He recorded the whole thing and when I was done, he handed me back my phone as promised. The phone was showing my chirper account homepage and a new poll had been put up from my device -  How many more days do I have to return and rub my dick in nettles again?

I looked up to him in shock and he just patted the bag of diapers and said there’s plenty more where those came from.

I looked back down at the results and my heart sunk. It looked like I was going to be cum incontinent and in diapers for a long, long time.