Something about getting to explore an unknown, wild land filled Bill with wonder and excitement. The thrill of discovery had always pushed him up the steepest paths and through the deepest levels. Even if it meant long, sleepless nights devoted to unraveling the secrets of a virtual world, he'd be first. Even if it meant collapsing on the summit of the hill afterwards, gasping for air while sprawled out along the path, he'd be first. 

… About half the time. The other half, he was second. And the only guy that ever beat him was his twin brother, Brad.

Like many twins, Bill and Brad had been inseparable since birth. Whether huddled over controllers in the basement or charging down a trail in the forest, both of them were always there to egg each other on. In the basement, that usually just meant trading first place back and forth. However, with their heavy guts and thick thighs dragging them down in the great outdoors, the price of being the first to reach the top of a hill was the pain of a body pushed beyond its limits and the embarrassment of watching everyone catch up and pass them while they gulped for air like fish stranded on a beach. But that was only a temporary inconvenience most of the time; the discovery was always worth the pain. 

The two young rams had been going to Camp Cedar Sap every summer for the past few years, and this summer was no different. Though the camp's facilities weren't exactly in top shape (quite the opposite, in fact), the forest-covered mountains on which the camp sat were breathtaking. The twins were almost always the first in line for hikes, except for the few occasions when they were in the middle of a covert gaming session on the handhelds that they'd snuck in.

The soft-spoken brothers were fairly shy, so they rarely attracted attention. Nobody would ever suspect the obedient twins of doing something so rebellious as skipping a camp activity to play video games (let alone go anywhere without Scout Master supervision), and the camp's meager resources were already stretched as far as they could go without snapping. Despite their fluffy white coats and large chubby frames, nobody seemed to notice the twins sneaking off to their old, beaten-up tent or a shady corner of the woods. They got away with it for years.

Today had begun much like any other day at camp: get woken up WAY too early by overzealous scout masters, choke down something that resembled breakfast in only the broadest sense of the word, and try to predict whether the offered hike would be better than games. Most often, the hike was indeed worth it, but if the sky looked stormy or the scout master leading the hike had chosen a route they'd hiked a million times, they'd find an overlooked corner of the camp and huddle together with their contraband electronics. On this particular day, the sky was clear, and Scout Master Leon had chosen a route that would take them to Maple Rock: a massive boulder near the far corner of the forest that they'd only seen once before. The choice had been a no-brainer.

Bill was, at this moment, cursing himself for no-braining their earlier decision. 

Between the excitement at the chance to see Maple Rock once more and the attempt to squeeze in just one last battle before the hike, he'd completely failed to take into consideration the sheer length of the trip. Although none of the trails leaving from the camp ever took more than a few hours at the most to circle back around, the trek to Maple Rock was easily the longest. Typically, he'd just suck it up - chafed thighs and aching feet were a small price to pay for a good view. This time, however, there was a secondary factor that he hadn't accounted for.

He'd forgotten to visit the latrines before lining up at the head of the trail.

That hadn't been an issue for the first hour or so of the hike, but by the two-hour mark, a little water balloon had made its presence known under his large belly. A half-hour had passed since his initial discomfort, and that balloon had swelled much faster than he'd expected. Now, every time a leap made his belly jiggle or a gap made him stretch out a leg in order to cross, his extra heft jostled his bladder enough to make him grit his teeth for a moment. He was usually thankful for the built-in cushioning (especially when a couch wasn't big enough to hold every player), but at the present moment, all it did was take up valuable storage space and put extra pressure on his liquid cargo.

The trees and bushes were looking more and more tempting with each passing minute. All he'd have to do is dash off the path a little, unzip, and let loose. Well, that, and ask Scout Master Leon for a short break, and if he did that, then everyone would know about the state of his bladder. There'd be no end of teasing and giggling as he hobbled off into the woods to drain himself. Besides, they were almost there, with maybe another half-hour left until they got to Maple Rock. Once they got there, he could find an outhouse, and then there'd be no chance of anyone peeking while he did his business. It'd just be him and the big gaping hole in front of him. He could almost hear his stream splattering at the bottom and - 

SPLASH!! 

Bill nearly jumped out of his wool as he was roughly jolted back to reality by a fellow camper jumping boots-first into a small brook that crossed the trail. His hand found his crotch automatically, and his cheeks burned as he squeezed himself to regain control. Thankfully, they hadn't stopped moving, so he was able to play off the cubbish grab like he was just readjusting things. With all of the deep creases between his thighs, belly, and rump, things would easily get swampy down there during a hike, and it wasn't like he'd never seen other campers digging a hand down their shorts for a scratch.

Once he had his bladder back under control, he chanced some sideways glances at the rest of the campers. Nobody had been paying any attention. He let out as much of a sigh as he could without loosening his muscles too much. 

Then his eyes fell on Brad, who looked right back at him, then looked away again with his cheeks reddening. That glance was all they needed to share in order to know that they were both suffering the same fate, though Bill had also noticed Brad's hand shoved deep into a front pocket, telling the same story. The water balloon in Bill's groin was feeling more and more like a bowling ball with each heavy step down the trail, and he knew that Brad was probably in just as much trouble as he was.

But it'd be okay soon, because they were almost there…right? It would just be a few more minutes, surely.

"Yo Leon, how much farther to this big rock thing? I gotta fuckin piss like a damn horse!"

Just the mention of peeing was torture to Bill. He could feel the pressure of the liquid in his groin straining against the base of his dick, and his thighs automatically pressed together as images of golden streams filled his head.

The tall lion leading the group let out a tired sigh. "Butch, language please."

The girthy gator responsible for the outburst gave a big dramatic groan. "C'mon man, it's just us guys out here! Why we gotta be all clean n shit?" He practically spat the word "clean" as he complained.

Scout Master Leon ran his paws through his long mane as the tufted tip of his tail flicked with annoyance. "Look, it's just about another half hour to Maple Rock. Can you hold it?"

Bill's stomach dropped like a lead weight. Thirty minutes?! There was no way he'd make it. His shorts would be soaked in half that time, an outcome he wanted to avoid at all costs. He glanced over at Brad for reassurance, but found none. Instead, Brad bit a lip and looked back at him with a worried blush, then squirmed with his hand wedged even further into his pocket than last time. They'd both be peeing in a few minutes, whether they wanted to or not.

"Nah man, this trail's long as shit; I've been holdin it for like an hour already!” Butch grabbed his crotch without any shame at all, squeezing the sizeable bulge in the front of his shorts right there on the trail, where the rest of the group could see it all. Some campers giggled at Butch's bad behavior, while others cringed and cried "Eww!"

But the twins were totally silent, both squirming in place and grinding their thighs together in the least noticeable ways possible. Butch's bold display only made it harder for them both to hold on. Suddenly, Bill heard a gasp from his side, and his head whipped around. Brad's eyes were wide as they flicked up from his crotch and met Bill's, his face having gone from discomfort and worry to full panic. Bill felt the heat rising in his cheeks and ears. That look could only mean one thing, and soon he'd have a damp patch in his undies too if he didn't do something fast. Brad still gripped himself hard though - a wet spot was way better than a puddle.

"Fine!! Just…make it quick, will ya?"

Leon had given up arguing, and Butch was happily strolling over to a tree with a huge grin. The tree he'd chosen was right on the path, and as soon as he unzipped, his whole package burst out into plain view for anyone on the trail. Laughter erupted all around him, along with a few hushed whispers; apparently, the pudgy gator was packing one heck of a sausage, complete with a pair of sizeable eggs.

"Seriously, Butch?! Couldn't you have at least walked off the trail a little first?!" Leon was beyond exasperation, but Butch was already ignoring him again as he aimed his thick gator pipe at the tree and tilted his head back with a loud relaxed groan. His stream was so powerful that the poor twins could hear it all the way from the back of the crowd, though luckily nobody noticed as they hunched over a bit to keep the oceans inside of them contained. Between the sheer volume of urine in his bladder and the little roll of foreskin at the tip of his dick causing his stream to split and spray, Butch had all but soaked the bark of the tree within a few seconds.

"I gotta pee too!"

Leon stammered at the tiny rabbit whose hand had shot up into the air. The other hand was groping at his groin.

"Me too!"

This time, it was a fox, and he was already hopping from foot to foot with both hands wedged in his crotch.

"Alright, alright, I get it!" Leon threw his hands up in the air, then just as quickly collapsed onto his rear on the dusty trail, defeated. "Everyone go pee, and then we'll finish hiking to Maple Rock…"

Bill's heart soared. Salvation was at hand! He and Brad spun around and wasted no time trampling over bushes and logs for a more secluded spot. He didn't even bother hiding his crotch grabs anymore. Every second counted if he was going to-

"Agh, no…!"

Bill froze in place just long enough to watch Brad hunch over completely, shaking from brushy tail to curved horns as he crammed both hands between his thighs and held on for dear life. He wasn't gonna last much longer, and Bill's pee-dance wasn't helping either. Bill frantically searched around for a more private spot and found one just a few yards away, between some rocks under a big, dark, pine tree. He began hobbling toward the tree, hoping his brother would follow his lead, but Brad's bladder had other plans.

"Screw this!"

Bill turned just in time to watch his brother desperately fishing it out of his shorts. His stream had already started before his hasty flails, so as soon as his hooded tip saw daylight, his piss sprayed in a few wild arcs and nearly doused them both in the process. Once he had his aim settled, he tilted his head back just like Butch and let out a breathy moan as he quickly drenched the moss on the ground in front of him with hot, young ram piss.

Bill had simply stood there, fixed to the spot with both agony and awe, as he'd watched his twin do what he so very badly wanted to do himself. As if on cue, his muscles spasmed once, briefly, and then again. He flinched at both and doubled over, quivering as he sandwiches his hands between his thighs and pressed everything together. It hurt, but it held. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding and very carefully tried to examine the damage. He released the tiniest bit of the small lump he'd been holding and was horrified to feel dampness on the fabric at the tip, as well as on the fingers he'd used to pinch his lower snoot shut.

"Dude, just pee here, it's fine…"

Bill flinched. Somehow, he'd forgotten all about Brad during his fight with his bladder, and still yet somehow, Brad was still going. The sight was too much; Bill's bladder flexed again and left a much more sizeable "reminder" of his current situation on the front of his shorts. Bill whimpered and took one more longing look at the better spot, then got to work undoing his shorts. As soon as the dampened front of his formerly white briefs were exposed to the air, his bladder gave up completely. A shocked bleat escaped him while he fumbled with the tight elastic waistband of his undies, all the while his stream jetted through the thin layer of fabric stretched over the tip of his dick. The dampened spot had spread significantly by the time his stubby member was free and gushing like a firehouse.

Bill shivered all over as he panted through the relief rushing throughout his body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to pee so bad, and the feeling of so much fluid draining from his bladder so forcefully was overwhelming. All he could do was pant and stare, watching the golden stream spray from his little nozzle and splash down in the growing puddle that Brad was still adding to (though with much less force now).

Just as Brad's stream began to taper off, the puddle spilled over a few small rocks and began to run down the hillside. He giggled at the sight and pointed it out: "Look, we made a river!" Bill's eyes had closed in the bliss of his release, but now he followed Brad's finger with his gaze, and he too giggled. The twins often went for bathroom breaks together (especially at camp where the bathroom was usually just the woods), but they'd never peed enough to make a river before. Watching the puddle drain and slowly trickle away was somewhat surreal; how had they both even held that much?

As Bill's stream died down to a dribble, Brad started doing his shorts up again and winced at the feeling of cool, wet fabric wrapping around his plump pouch. He zipped up with a worried whimper, then tried peeking around his belly while pulling it to the side (which didn't help). "Hey, how bad is it?"

"Wha..?" Bill had been focused on shaking the last drops out of his hood, mostly by feel since his belly usually just got in the way of looking down. He paused and looked up at Brad as his brain caught up, then glanced down at Brad's shorts. And stared. "Uhhhh…"

Brad whimpered. "Oh no, how am I gonna hide it?!"

Bill had just finished zipping up, with his cheeks burning. He'd tried not to react while his brother was busy with his own shorts situation, but he'd definitely noticed the cooling urine pressing against his nuts as he'd pulled his briefs back up. 

And now Brad had noticed too. An embarrassed bleat forced its way out of Bill's muzzle. "Wh-what's wrong?!" But Brad didn't really need to say anything - the answer was all over his face.

Brad looked back up at him, then back in the direction of the trail, which wasn't more than a few yards away. He groaned and threw his head into his hands. "What are we gonna do? The minute someone sees us, they're gonna think that…w-we…"

"...pissed our pants?" Bill finished.

"Dude, come on, don't just say it like that!" Brad's face turned from pink to bright red. "B-besides, we basically made it. I mean, most of it is…uhh…" The corners of his mouth turned up with the start of a cubbish grin.

"...in the river, right?" Bill finished again, already giggling.

A bellow from just up the trail suddenly interrupted their laughter: "Hey campers!! We're ready to head out!! Stragglers, get back here pronto!!" Scout Master Leon was trying to regroup, which meant there were only a couple of others besides themselves that hadn't returned yet. They needed to somehow get back to the group without anyone noticing the darker, dampened regions around their groins. Bill was fresh out of ideas, and the worried look that Brad gave him said the same.

Bill swallowed and tried to steel himself. "We gotta just blend in and hope nobody notices. Yknow…" he shrugged, "like always, I guess?"

Brad sighed, then nodded. "Like always. Just gotta hope."

The twins carefully ventured back to the trail, heads swiveling as they scanned for other campers. They could see the large group just up ahead, and a duo (a fox and a raccoon) were just about to pass them, chatting about something amongst themselves. In a well-practiced maneuver, Bill and Brad quietly fell into step behind the pair in front of them. By the time they'd made it to the back of the group, Scout Master Leon was just finishing a head count, and they were heading off up the trail once again. Nobody had said anything about the sodden state of either of the ram brothers' shorts yet.

After a few tense, silent minutes between them, Brad chanced a small smile at Bill.

He received a thumbs up.

Clean getaway.