Afterpiss

Come on, man.
You didn’t wet yourself.
You didn’t pee your pants.
That’s why you just used the fuckin’ bathroom: to pee.
No, this was just an accident.
You were pissing and you were done and you pulled your underwear and shorts back
         over your junk… and a little more came out.
It’s no big deal!
You didn’t wet yourself!
You didn’t just piss in your shorts!
You just…prematurely stopped yourself.
I mean, it’s your dick’s fault!
It gave you that feeling, that fucking sensation that you were done, right?
So you stopped, pulled yourself back in, and then it said, “Hey, know what? I’ve got a
         little more to go. Time to go crazy!”
You didn’t wet yourself.
You didn’t, for the love of God, piss in your goddamn shorts!
You didn’t!
It was an accident, a chemical malfunction between your dick and your brain.
Don’t be so hard on yourself.
Don’t be so fucking hard on yourself!
No one notices.
No one cares!
It’s not even visible!
Your shirt is covering it.
It’s all you, buddy.
You’re just more aware of it because you can feel the damp spot on your shorts, rubbing
         up against your junk like a desperate crackhead.
It’s not even piss.
It’s afterpiss.
The stuff that comes out after the baby isn’t the baby, it’s the afterbirth.
The birth is done and then more stuff just falls out.
That’s the same with this afterpiss.
It’s natural, normal, and everybody does it.
Nobody cares because everybody does it.
Everybody hides it because everybody does it and nobody cares, but why shove it in
         other people’s faces?
You don’t do that with afterbirth.
Some cultures eat the afterbirth, but that’s more useless knowledge than anything.
See?
You’re gonna be okay.
It’s no big deal.
You didn’t piss in your shorts.
If anything, you’ve afterpissed in them, and that’s no big deal.
It’s not!
…
So are you gonna change, ‘cause it’s kinda grossing me out.