Groomsman Nightmare - Part 2 (Patreon)

Apologies for the delay in posting part 2 - I thought I'd done it and clearly hadn't! So, here's part 2 of Groomsman Nightmare where Dean gets himself into even more of a predicament. Part 3 going up shortly! 

By the time Dean made his way to the ballroom, he’d missed the cutting of the cake and they were just about to start the first dance.

Conscious of the incredibly tight satin briefs that were digging into his butt cheeks, Dean sidled around the side of the room to the other groomsmen and the bridesmaids. As soon as the first dance was over, they were all supposed to join the bride and groom on the dancefloor for a wedding party dance, before others could join in.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Liam said with a raised eyebrow as Max and his wife started their dance to raucous applause.

‘Had to go to the bathroom and grabbed some fresh air.’

Liam nodded. ‘Good for you that Max didn’t notice you missing. Ready for the dance?’

Dean smiled but knew it didn’t meet his eyes. Lana, the bridesmaid he was supposed to dance with, had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want to be partnered with him. It wasn’t anything about Dean’s personality; just the fact that he was so much bulkier than the other pretty boys who were groomsmen.

As Dean watched the bride and groom twirl around the dancefloor, he couldn’t stop thinking about the insanely tight bikini briefs. He could feel the pouch digging into him and was desperate to slide his hand under the kilt and readjust himself.

But, before he could get a chance, he was being pulled on to the dancefloor by Lana. Dean remembered the simple dance and was mindlessly moving around the floor with his mind fully focused on what was going on under his kilt. The more he danced, the more the satin material crept between his ample butt cheeks, the silky material rubbing between his cheeks. The wedgie at the rear was causing a continual tug on the pouch at the front and Dean’s cheeks flushed as he felt himself starting to get hard.

‘No, no, no. Calm down. Just get through the dance and then you can get a drink and calm down.’

Dean could feel his cock trying to fill out in the tiny pouch and could feel the waistband straining to contain him as he continued to dance.

The dance was only 2 minutes, but it felt like the longest 2 minutes of his life and as soon as the song finished, Dean thanked Lana and headed straight for the bar where he ordered two shots and a double vodka. As much as he felt like a bloated pig in the tight shirt, he needed the alcohol to calm him down a bit.

Dean quickly downed the two shots and knocked back the double vodka, before ordering the same again. As he took back his credit card from the bartender, he knocked it on the floor and bent over to pick it up, not hearing the interior button pop from its seam and drop to the floor.

The kilt wrapped around and was held together with a button on the inside and then a hook and eye on the waistband. The pressure of Dean’s muscular thighs on the tight tartan material was enough to push the button straight out of the material, but with the alcohol and the noise, Dean didn’t even notice.

Feeling flushed in the warm ballroom, Dean necked the other two shoots and carried his double vodka over to one of the tables in the far corner of the ballroom, where very few people were sitting.

Setting his drink down, Dean edged around the table to the chair in the corner and gratefully threw himself down, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

‘When did it get so hot in here,’ Dean thought, feeling the heat from his face.

As he took a sip of his drink, he saw the other groomsmen removing their cravats and undoing their top button and he gratefully did the same, but as he looked down, he noticed that one of his shirt buttons had come undone again on his stomach.

After removing his cravat and undoing his top couple of buttons exposing his tanned, muscular collar bone, Dean did up the button and sat back in his seat, breathing a sigh of relief. But the deep breath resulted in hi relaxing his stomach muscles and the button he’d just done up burst off and rolled under the table next to him.

‘Good job no one is sat over here yet,’ he said to himself, praying that no one had noticed.

Dean slid off of his chair, the satin briefs riding up even more and crawled across the floor where he retrieved the button and stood up before dropping back down on his seat. But as his bubble butt connected with the cushion, there was a snapping noise that went unheard due the music.

Dean took another sip of his vodka and tried to come up with a plan of action. It was too early for him to leave, but he didn’t want any of the lads to notice that he’d popped a button. He knew that would be all it took for them to start taking the piss out of the bulky rugby player in the skinny boy kilt. But, on the upside, Dean was starting to feel a bit more comfortable, and he could always stay in the corner for another hour before making his excuses.

If anything, Dean felt a bit too comfortable and as he looked down, he realised why. The hook and eye on his kilt had snapped open and the kilt had unwrapped itself and was sitting underneath him on his chair like a blanket whilst he sat on top with his meaty muscular thighs spread and his cock and balls bulging against the skin-tight satin of the briefs.

‘Fuck!’ Dean cursed out loud and quickly grabbed both sides of the kilt and unsteadily re-wrapped it around himself. ‘I need to fix this.’

Dean assessed the room and decided that the best course of action was to get to a bathroom so that he could try and re-clip the hook and eye. He could feel the metal, so he just hoped that it wasn’t too damaged. Despite now having underwear on, he had no wish for anyone to see him in the skimpy satin briefs and he especially didn’t want Max to know that he’d stolen some of his underwear.

After draining the last of his vodka and ensuring that his shirt was as flat to his stomach as possible to hide the lost button, Dean kept a tight hold on one side of the kilt and made his way as casually as possible to the nearest doorway. He smiled at a few of the guests as he walked past and just arrived at the door when Liam grabbed his arm.

‘Hey, why are you sat in the corner like a loser? It’s a wedding.’

Dean kept a death grip on his kilt as he faked a laugh. ‘Was just feeling a bit stuffed after the meal, but I’m just nipping to the toilet, and I’ll be back out there.’

Liam thumped him on the back. ‘Good man.’

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean picked up the pace and was practically running down the corridor where he dived into an empty bathroom and locked the door.

As soon as he released his grip on the kilt, it dropped to his ankles, revealing the ridiculously snug satin briefs that he’d stolen from Max’s room. His semi-erect cock stretched the material of the pouch to its limit, and he couldn’t help but notice the strain on the thin waistband in the mirror.

The mirror. He looked ridiculous. His shirt was snug, and the missing button was obvious. The jacket hung correctly open, and he realised that he’d lost the sporran at some point earlier in the evening. As he looked down, past the miniscule briefs to his knee-high socks and black leather shoes, he couldn’t help but wonder what someone would think if they saw him?

Dean picked up the kilt and examined the hook and eye. It was still clasped together, but the hook had ripped free of the kilt. Releasing the hook, Dean pushed the end into the material, half an inch from where it had ripped free. It took some effort to tear through the tartan, but the hook held.

‘Okay, I just need to do this back up and try and bend the hook and eye together and that should hold it up.’

With a grunt of effort, Dean sucked in the slight bulge of his stomach and wrestled with the kilt to get into place. It took more effort than the first time thanks to the meal and the fact that the hook was further around than it had been before, but after a lot of grunting, the hook and eye connected and Dean used his ample strength to bend the hook and eye almost in half.

‘That should do it,’ he said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Dean assessed himself in the mirror and was pleased that the missing button on his shirt showed less now that he’d tightened the kilt and tucked the shirt in properly.

‘Time to get out there and then I can head home in an hour or so.’

With his pep talk done, Dean exited the bathroom and made his way back to the ballroom, removing the satin wedgie from his bubble butt as he did so.

‘One hour, just one hour.’

Dean got another drink from the bar and headed towards the dancefloor where some of the other groomsmen were drunkenly dancing like idiots.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Liam yelled over the music. ‘Get over here and dance.’

Dean wasn’t left much choice when Liam grabbed his arm and yanked him further on to the dancefloor, so he downed his drink and started dancing with the lads, forcing himself not to think about the bodge job that held his kilt up or the skin-tight satin briefs that were caressing his cock.

As the minutes ticked away, Dean continued to dance with the lads, knocking back a drink every time one of them returned from the bar.

By the time 10pm arrived, Dean had completely forgotten his concern over his attire and was enjoying a piss up with the lads. That was until an incredibly drunk Dave decided to lift up his kilt and moon the bride and groom as they walked past.

‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Max yelled. ‘I think we need a photo of this. All of the groomsmen mooning. Come on lads.’

‘Liam’s gone to the toilet. I’ll go and grab him,’ Dean said, feeling the panic pounding in his chest.

Dean raced off of the dancefloor and disappeared down a corridor that were in the opposite direction to the toilets.

‘I’ve got to get these damn briefs off,’ he thought as he tried not to hyperventilate.

Dean reached the end of the corridor that was empty, except for an armchair and a large plant pot. After checking that no one was around, he slid his hands under the kilt, rubbing the hairy skin of his thighs as he did so. He gripped the waistband of the tiny briefs and with a lot of struggling, he managed the get them underneath his ample butt. With a lot of yanking and a small rip, Dean got the briefs to his ankles and stashed them in the flowerpot before heading back to the dance floor, before anyone noticed his absence.