Groomsman Nightmare - Part 1 (Patreon)

Time to post one of my favourite stories - Groomsman Nightmare! I wrote this years ago after attending a wedding where all of the groomsmen were in kilts. I've always been fascinated by a hunky guy in a kilt and after that wedding, this story had to be written. 

Who else loves a guy in a kilt? Let me know in the comments! 

Dean Thames had been dreading his friend’s wedding for months! When Max Fielding told his close group of five friends that he was getting married and they were all going to be groomsmen, Dean had faked a smile and immediately felt sick.

Max had been up front from the beginning that all of them would be expected to wear a kilt, which would be no problem for all of them . . . except Dean.

Dean had always been the odd one out in his group of friends. The other four were slim, tall and built like football players, whereas he was slightly shorter, broader and built like a rugby player. One of his muscled thighs were the same size as both thighs of another of the guys. His size always made him self-conscious and the thought of having to stand next to the four stick insects whilst wearing a kilt, made him feel sick.

A month before the wedding, Dean had met with the other four guys to get fitted for their kilts, shirts and jackets and he’d detested the entire experience. Mercifully, he’d managed to avoid being undressed in front of the other guys the entire time.

Just after the fitting, Dean had twisted his knee at rugby practice and spent the entire lead up to the wedding unable to exercise or do much at all.

When the big day finally arrived, Dean had been in meltdown when he’d realised how snug the shirt and jacket were, not to mention how tight the kilt was around his waist. Dean had always been a little on the chunky side, but was not what anyone would call fat due to his muscle and build. But, a month of no exercise meant that his stomach had gained a little extra weight, as had his arse and thighs.

Dean had always had a prominent bubble butt and was incredibly conscious of it when out with his four friends who all had incredibly small, pert bottoms. Dean decided to wear a tight pair of black briefs under his kilt, in a desperate attempt to hold his ample booty down.

All was going well until just before the ceremony when the groom, Max, decided it would be hilarious if they all went traditional and went commando under their kilts. The thought terrified Max, not least of all because he was worried that his additional weight may make his kilt burst off. But, not wanting to be shamed by the other lads, he peeled off of his underwear.

As he slid his briefs down his thighs, his cock and balls sprung free and he couldn’t help a slight moan as his hand caressed his cock. How long had it been since he’d jacked off? A week? Two? Three? Shaking his head, he kicked off his briefs, praying that his butt wasn’t pushing out his kilt too much and when the other lads weren’t looking, he threw them in a cupboard to come and collect them later on.

The ceremony went ahead without a hitch. Dean spent the entire time panicking that his shirt buttons would burst off or his kilt would rip and drop to the ground, but Max and his fiancé became man and wife and soon they were leaving the church.

As soon as the photos were done, the guests started heading to their cars to drive over to the reception venue and Dean dashed back inside the church to retrieve his briefs. He’d left them in a cupboard in the room where the grooms had finished getting ready, but when he opened the door, there was nothing there.

‘No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.’

Dean’s cheeks flushed at the thought of having to spend the rest of the evening commando. He knew one of the guys had probably swept the room before loading the car up, but he was the only one walking an hour home after the reception instead of staying and he had no other clothes.

‘Hey Dave,’ Dean said as he climbed into the car with one of the other groomsmen. ‘Do you know where our underwear went? I left my keys with my briefs and they’re gone.’

‘Oh, Max got Liam to chuck everything in his bag so they’ve gone to the hotel already. Just nip up and grab them when we get there.’

Dean nodded and tried to hide how uncomfortable and anxious he felt.

When they arrived at the Magenta Country Hotel for the wedding reception, there were more photos before Dean eventually managed to get close enough to Max.

‘Hey, do you know where your bag was taken? My keys were with my briefs. I want to grab them now so I don’t forget when I’m drunk later.’

Max laughed. ‘Liam chucked all the undies in my bag. Should be up in the honeymoon suite, but you’ll have to grab them later, we’re about to go in and eat.’

Dean could feel the breeze between his legs and it was a constant reminder that he was naked underneath a kilt that felt like it was straining at the seams.

He followed the rest of the wedding party into the hotel and into a high ceiled room filled with round tables and candles.

Dean found the table where the groomsmen and the bridesmaids were sitting and plonked himself down in his seat, praying that he’d be able to get up to the room and get his briefs back so that he could try and enjoy the evening. He’d only been sat for a moment when he looked down and realised that one of the buttons on his white shirt had come undone. Praying that no one had noticed, he discreetly did up and mentally vowed to eat as little as possible during the meal.

Before they could eat, there were speeches and toasts, which involved a lot of standing and sitting, standing and sitting. At one point, Dean sat down and was convinced he heard a rip, but everything felt like it was in place, so he tried not to dwell on it. With the toasts done, the first course was brought out and the champagne was replaced with wine.

Dean tried to eat sparingly but after a couple of glasses of wine, he ate all of his main course, the dessert and the cheese board. By the time they brought coffee out, Dean had just finished his fifth glass of wine and was feeling utterly stuffed.

The best man, Liam made another quick speech and announced that the first dance would take place in half an hour in the ballroom and the bar was now open.

The rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids quickly cleared their seats and headed off to the ballroom and Dean said he’d catch up when he finished his coffee.

It was only after they’d gone that Dean realised that two of his shirts buttons had come undone and he quickly fastened them, his exposed stomach shocking him out of his food and drink stupor to remember that he was wearing an insanely tight outfit with no underwear.

‘I need to get my briefs,’ he muttered to himself.

Dean stood up and after straightening his jacket and kilt and feeling confident that there was no harm undone, aside from being feeling bloated, he headed towards reception.

‘Hello, can I grab the key for the honeymoon suite, I need to grab something for the groom.’

‘Not a problem, sir. The best man just brought it back,’ the girl said as she handed the key over.

Dean gratefully accepted it and headed for the lifts. When he stepped into one and the doors slid shut, he couldn’t help but stare at himself in the mirror. His shirt buttons were straining and he quickly sucked his bloated stomach in to try and hide it. The jacket was fitted so that it stayed open so he couldn’t even use that to hide it.

Turning to the side, he felt even more self-conscious about the shelf his massive arse made. It made his kilt lift up slightly higher at the back and made his desperation for his skin tight briefs even stronger.

When the lift opened, Dean walked quickly to the end of the corridor where he found Bridal Suite D and unlocked the door. He immediately spotted Max’s rucksack that he’d had the church and pulled it open. He hadn’t really paid much attention to what the other guys had been wearing under their kilts, but when he opened the bag, there was no underwear at all.

Dean started to panic and rifled through all of the pockets of the rucksack before giving in to the fact that the underwear wasn’t there. He realised then that Liam had probably stolen them and hidden them somewhere to ensure that everyone stuck to the commando plan, but Dean just couldn’t do it. He needed his briefs back.

As he was about to leave the suite, Dean had a sudden idea. Max and his new wife were to spend a couple of days in the hotel, which meant that Max would have underwear in his suitcase. Max’s underwear would be very tight on Dean’s bulkier frame, which would hopefully have the same effect on holding his butt down a bit and at least he’d be less concerned about the kilt bursting off of him.

Feeling slightly guilty for stealing from one of his friends, Dean grabbed the smaller one of two suitcases and threw it open on the bed. He knew it was Max’s as soon as he saw the t-shirts and jeans and hurriedly pulled the clothes aside in search of underwear. He started to panic when he couldn’t find any, but then he looked inside the shoes and was relieved to find some undies.

At least . . . he thought they were undies. The only underwear in Max’s suitcase were a few pairs of very skimpy bikini briefs. Dean held up a pair of black and silver striped ones that were made of an almost satin material. If it weren’t for the package pouch at the front, he’d have almost that they were for women. They had a pouch at the front and a small piece of fabric at the rear with string sides. They were insanely skimpy but they were the least garish of the ones in the case.

‘It’s better than nothing,’ Dean said to himself and slipped the tiny undies over his shoes and up to his knees.

The waistband was stretched to the limit as Dean pulled the bikinis over his thighs and he had to pull up his kilt and hold it under his chin as he stretched the scant undies over his bubble butt and tucked his ample cock and balls inside the small pouch. The pouch was so small that he only just covered himself, but the back was far worse. Dean lifted the kilt up in the rear as he checked the mirror was horrified to see that the small piece of fabric barely covered three quarters of his cheeks.

The other down side to the tiny briefs was the material. The satin caressed his balls and his cheeks so sensually that he could feel himself getting aroused.

Dean dropped his kilt, repacked the case, put it back and took a deep breath. ‘Right, calm down, you can do this. Just forget about it. You have underwear on. That’s all that matters.’

Praying that his pep talk would work, Dean left the suite and headed back to the lifts, desperately hoping that the evening would be over quickly.

Little did he know that his night was only just beginning . . .