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Tony needed to go. Hell, he’d had to go for hours; he’d just been ignoring it. It was past the point of ignoring it now. Problem was that there was nothing the billionaire could do about his predicament. Not yet, anyway.
A few hours ago, the team had been alerted to a mission that needed their attention. Per usual, they’d raced off to take care of business. It went rather typical; well, as typical as something in their line of work could go. Except for one small, tiny digression, that is.
He was stuck in the suit.
Temporarily, anyway. During their mission, Tony had taken an intense blow from the enemies attacking them. Having been preoccupied with keeping them from making contact with one of the other team members, he failed to truly protect himself. The force of the blow delivered sent him flying into a nearby building; hard. As a result, something in the suits wiring had been jarred enough to make many of the mechanisms malfunction. The suit was repairable, and still relatively worked, thankfully. The major downside to this malfunction, though, was that he couldn’t get out of the god damn thing.
And, as Tony was starkly aware of; he desperately needed out of the suit. Even back toward the beginning of the battle, he’d been able to feel his bladder beginning to press at him. It hadn’t been much of a problem. Now, however, it definitely was.
The suit was a million times harder to try and repair while he was still inside of it. He would have already had Bruce down there, in the workshop helping him, if the aforementioned man wasn’t still recovering from the Hulk’s appearance. The team had been a bit concerned when Tony revealed that he was trapped; however, he had said he could handle it. He could. Even from inside of the suit, he had the means to work on the section of wiring that had been damaged. Being encased in the metal made it harder, yes, but it wasn’t impossible.
The fact that Tony could hardly sit still, though…that was what was making this nearly impossible. At this point in time, he’d already been desperate for quite a while. The philanthropist was sweating, his body tense as he fidgeted on the stool he was sat upon. He had to pause constantly during the rewiring; he couldn’t exactly be bouncing up and down frantically while trying to reconnect wires. The minutes were dragging along as Tony struggled to remain in control long enough for him to manage the repair.
“Dammit.” the brunet cursed, jiggling his leg rapidly for a few moments.
He could feel his bladder pressing against the waistband of his jeans, and oh, how Tony wished he had the ability to unbutton them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this desperate. His bladder was aching, so full, sending pangs of urgency down his spine, reminding him that it had been far too long sense he’d been able to visit a bathroom.
The fact that, not even thirty feet away from where he sat in agony, there was a bathroom was pure torture. He wanted so badly to use it. He needed to use it. He couldn’t. Not yet. Fucking hell.
Focus. Focus, thought Tony. He looked back down at the section of exposed wiring he urgently needed to get fixed. Taking a deep breath, the billionaire tensed up as much as he could, trying to sit still for at least a few seconds. His hands shook minutely as attempted to replace one of the many damaged wires.
Tony managed to get only a portion of the wire connected before practically hissing as he was forced to bend almost entirely in half, a wave of desperation washing over him. No, no, no. He needed to hold it. Just hold it a little while longer. Any other option was too mortifying, alone or not. He was a grown fucking man. He could hold his piss for as long as was necessary.
Borderline angry at himself for being so utterly incapable of making his body cooperate, Tony grit his teeth and sat back up. Still, however, he squirmed with great fervor. He most definitely did not whimper in the back of his throat. His abdomen most definitely wasn’t hurting from the strain of all his liquid. And, absolutely no way did he feel a minuscule spurt escape from him. Nope. Definitely not.
Biting his lip, Tony stood up to see if the new position would help alleviate the pressure. He basically marched in place, although he tried to keep his upper body relatively motionless so he could continue to attempt working on the suit. He was already halfway done, really; it was just taking so much longer than it should have. He should have been freed 45 minutes ago.
Staying in control while inside of the suit proved to be even more difficult that trying to stay in control in regular attire. For instance, Tony was unable to press his legs together. Nor was he able to physically grab himself. At such a level of desperation, he would most definitely have been doing both of those things, if applicable. It made everything just that much worse.
Tony managed to get another wire reconnected. Just as he did so, he felt another spurt escape him, despite all his efforts to keep his liquid contained. He could feel the dampness of his underwear now. It only served to make him begin to panic a bit more.
Five minutes later, he’d made only minimal progress. He was squirming consistently. Tony thanked whatever there was out there that he’d had JARVIS bar anyone else from entering the workshop. If anyone were to see him in this situation, Tony would personally throw himself off of the top of the tower. Immediately. Pissing himself the whole way down.
God, it hurt. His lower abdomen was so swollen, so stretched; he could feel it. Every movement sent his nerves aflame. His bladder wouldn’t cease its insistent urgent signals. No, they only got worse as more time went on. He’d thought he’d been desperate when the battle had ended. Hell, that was nothing compared to now, nearly an hour later. Full; so damn full, and he was still trying so hard to keep it all contained.
Another wire. Tony had begun on another wire, but his dancing and fidgeting had gotten so pronounced that he only could work in short bursts, only being able to touch the wires for ten seconds at the most. He wished more than anything that he could be still.
Tony made the mistake of glancing at the door to the bathroom—again—and it actually threatened to undo his entire composure. A groan escape from his lips, his metal encased hand banging against the suit as he instinctively grabbed for his crotch, something unable to be reached. He tried to cross his legs, something that was also a bit unmanageable, as he squirmed in place. Gravity weighed heavily on his bladder. Sitting down hardly helped him, though.
“Come on, come on…” Tony urged quietly, determined to repair the suit in time.
Managing not to squirm for a few seconds, the brunet shakily got another wire untangled and reconnected. There were still a few wires that needed repair/replacing in order for the suit to properly function—and let him out—again. Tony bit at his lower lip for a second time. As he went to start on another wire, his body forced him to writhe again, and he had to abandon the wire.
Tony sat down the tool he had in his hand, having to grip the table in front of him as he wriggled and fought the pangs of insistence from his bladder. He had to go so bad, and he wished more than anything to be able to just go. To be able to unzip, and just…
Another, longer spurt escaped from his clenched muscles at the thought. Gasping, Tony stamped in place again. Too much; it was all too much. He’d be willing to bet that there was a small wet spot on the crotch of his jeans now. The billionaire knew that more leaks—the entire flood, even—would follow soon.
Somehow, over the course of the next few minutes, Tony managed to get another wire connected, despite all his movements. It was only one, though. He needed it to be all of them; and fast. His resolve was fading, his control slipping, and the evidence was clear in the soaked fabric of his boxers. The stress of the situation coursed through his veins.
It started happened as he was reconnecting another wire. Another spurt came out suddenly, causing to Tony gasp once again. He paced the space of a few feet, whimpering under his breath, wriggling his hips in an almost frantic manner. Just when he thought he might be getting the urgency to die down for the moment, his bladder contracted.
“No, no; please no,” Tony pleaded with his own body, once again trying in vain to grab for his crotch, the sound of the metal on metal echoing through the workshop. The billionaire whimpered again, his eyes going wide as he felt his control slip.
Wetness, warmth; flowing quickly and suddenly. Tears pricked the corners of Tony’s eyes as he felt his overworked muscles give up too soon. He looked down at his body even though he could only feel, not see, what was happening. His body relaxed instinctively as urine essentially poured out of him. Tony attempted to stop, at first, but it was pointless. He felt helpless as he felt the hot liquid soaking through his jeans, spreading rapidly down his legs. It soaked all the way down to his ankles, into his socks and shoes. He could hear the liquid hitting the bottom of his metal encased foot, no doubt forming small puddles. The sound itself was enough to deepen the blush that had already formed across his cheeks. Panic bubbled in his chest, even though no one was bearing witness to this besides himself.
Tony’s body sagged a bit in relief as his bladder emptied its contents in the improper place. He actually sniffled a bit, though he’d never admit it to himself. The stream soaking his pants finally tapered off after a long while, leaving him with a sense of anger and disappointment directed inward. This shouldn’t have happened. He should have been able to hold it for however long he needed to.
Frowning, Tony shifted uncomfortably. The urine was quickly cooling, the wet fabric of his jeans beginning to cling to his skin. He noted in the back of his mind that he would need to make more repairs later due to the liquid damage. Right now, however, he grimaced and turned back to the wiring. Now that he wasn’t so distracted and fidgety, he began to work on it much more quickly.
He was done in less than five minutes. That only served to anger him further. With the necessary repairs made, Tony was able the remove himself from the suit. He still needed to clean, and now repair some interior aspects of the suit, but that could wait. First, he needed a shower.
Tony had never been so grateful that he kept some spare clothing down in the shop. The last thing he would have needed would to have been forced to try to make it back up to his floor without running into someone else. Anyone would clearly be able to see the stain marking his jeans. The billionaire uncomfortably walked to the bathroom, undressing as quickly as he possible. He started the shower—something he was also grateful to have down there. Tony cleaned himself rather vigorously. He felt particularly gross after his accident.
Tony sighed quietly, mentally berating himself as he showered. Logically, really, he’d been holding on for quite a long time. Plus, he’d been stuck. It was a bit understandable that he hadn’t been able to remain in control. Nevertheless, Tony refused to think of it with that aspect of logic. He was destined to beat himself up about not being able to hold his bladder.
After a few minutes, Tony got out, dried himself off, and changed into the clean clothing. He was forced to spend the next hour cleaning and repairing the other aspects of the suit that he had just damaged with his own waste. This didn’t help his internalized disappointment in the slightest. He would eventually get over it, however. At least it hadn’t been in front of anyone else.
Tony went back up to the main floor once he was finished, deciding to try and find some way to distract himself from what had happened. In all honesty, he just wanted to forget about it. For the time being, if nothing more than that. Walking into the living area, he noted that he hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. None of the other team members were up and about.
No one was around to see the embarrassed look that still lingered on his face. No one was around to ask him about getting out of the malfunctioned suit. And that was the only redeeming aspect of Tony’s day.