The Landscaper Needs to Poop

When Zachary showed up for the job he'd been assigned this morning, he couldn't have been more thrilled. He was the only one assigned to the house, which was unusual- but supposedly, the homeowner had requested just one worker. Something about not wanting a crowd or noise. Not only did he like working alone, but he couldn't believe his luck when he saw that the homeowner was a gorgeous, single woman, Ms. Walker. She was probably around forty, which would make her ten years older than him. He loved an older woman.

That was then. Now, it was lunchtime, and his belly gurgled, angry about the black coffee he'd chugged that morning.

She'd been sitting on the deck, sipping a drink and watching him work all day. He anxiously approached her, holding back a fart.

"Hey, I'm just going to take a break for lunch. I'm going to drive down the street to-"

"Absolutely not," she snapped. "You're not to leave the property until the job is done."

"Oh," he answered. He was shocked. This was crazy. "Then can I use your bathroom? I'll just be-"

"And filthy up my clean house? Of course not."

His jaw dropped. What was going on? And what was he going to do? "Well if you won't let me in, can I just drive to-"

"No. If you leave before the job is done, I'll have you fired, simple as that. You're a big boy, you can hold it."

"Yes, ma'am." He blushed. It was humiliating that she knew he had to go. Hopefully, she just thought that he had to pee.

He got back to work, trying to work quickly. An hour later, he inhaled as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. He needed a toilet NOW. He glanced up at Ms. Walker, and she just grinned at him. Like she knew.

Fuck, he still had half of her landscaping beds to mulch. His poop was turtle heading already, and he was actively clenching to keep it in. He wasn't going to make it.

He had to try. He couldn't go poop in his pants in front of Ms. Walker. He would die if that happened.

An hour later, he was finally finishing up. A cold sweat covered his body, and he was shaking with how bad he had to go. He'd given up hope of reaching a toilet, but now he was just hoping to reach the safety of his truck. He had a dirty towel he could put down on the seat, poop his pants really quick, and then drive home.

He was trying not to think about what a relief it would be to poop his pants. He hadn't gone to the bathroom in his pants in years. He'd peed himself when he was stuck in traffic about 5 years ago, but he hadn't gone poop in his underwear since he was around seventeen. That time, he'd come home desperate, and his sister had been hogging the house's only bathroom. He'd hopped around the hallway, holding his butt, until he'd filled his pants. Luckily, he was able to throw away the evidence covertly, and no one but him ever knew.

"I'm done, Ms. Walker, bye!" he shouted. He turned to head to the truck, relief so close.

"Zachary?" she called. Oh no. "I have one more thing for you to take care of!"

He turned around slowly, feeling like he was about to cry. "Yes Ms. Walker?"

"I need you to bend down and pull these weeds here for me. Right now." She pointed to a spot on the ground right by her feet.

Bend...down? Oh no. "O-okay." He almost waddled over. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He'd held it this long. Just a couple more minutes. It was just a few weeds.

The moment he bent down, he knew it was a mistake. The movement forced his cheeks to spread just enough, and a big, fat, solid log started sliding out, past the point where he could stop it. A humiliating and involuntary "Uunnngghh" noise left his mouth as he filled up his underwear.

He managed to pinch it off after the first big log. Maybe she wouldn't notice.

"Oh my," she said. "I guess you couldn't hold it like a big boy after all, could you?"

"Wh-what?" he stammered, wondering if there was a chance he could get out of this by playing dumb.

"Forget about the weeds, stand up." He did, wincing as he felt his poop stretch his underwear in his loose jeans. She was giving him an alarmingly kind smile.

"You went poop in your pants, didn't you Zachary?"

"I didn't-"

"Say it, Zachary. Tell me what you did. Or I'll tell your boss."

This was the most humiliating moment of his life. More humiliating than anything he could have imagined. "I went poop in my pants."

"It looks like that's not the only thing you did in your pants." She pointed to his fly. He looked down and saw big wet circle, about the size of his palm where he had apparently peed himself. He hadn't even noticed. It must have happened while he was pushing out the log. She stroked the front of his pants, and his dick stirred, despite the fact that his underpants were full of poop like a baby's diaper.

"Now turn around and let me see," she said.

"No, please, I-"

She tutted at him and twirled her finger so he would turn. He did turn finally, his cheeks bright red. She stuck her finger in the waistband of not only his jeans but his underwear! She tugged the waistband out and peered inside, like someone checking a baby's diaper.

"Hm, it's solid. You must not be a very big boy at all if you couldn't hold it in."

"I held it for hours!" he protested.

"It's only a little bit, though," she countered. Like his bowels had heard her, they shifted once more, and his most humiliating moment got even more humiliating.

"No," he whispered to himself. But it was too late. More poop pressed hard enough at his anus that he couldn't control it. He gasped as it stretched him and started coiling in his underwear.

"Oh my," she said. "I guess you weren't done, hm?" She was still looking in his underwear, watching him poop.

He couldn't answer. All he could do was grunt as he pushed out the last piece.

"All done?" she asked. He nodded. She put his waistband back in place, and he shifted uncomfortably as hot shit smeared in his crack. His jeans felt wet and heavy, and he looked down, disheartened to see that he'd soaked them to the knees. Once again, he hadn't even noticed he was peeing.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," she whispered.

"Maybe someone else-"

"No. It has to be you. Or I'll tell everyone that you had quite the little potty accident."

"No, please don't tell anyone, please, Ms. Walker! I'll do anything."

"All you have to do is come back tomorrow."

"Okay."

"You're free to go, Zachary."

He started walking to his truck. He wanted to know if she was watching him, but he couldn't bear to risk making eye contact with her. He was pretty sure that she was watching him. He tried to walk normally, but by the time he got to his truck, he knew he was waddling. He put a towel on his seat and sat down. He winced as his poop flattened and spread everywhere.

What would happen tomorrow?