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The Azur Omorashi Association: Founding (CH2)

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Brooklyn was renowned for being the best secretary one could ask for. She would work tirelessly for hours and hours, looking over documents, writing letters, and making schedules. When she got her mind set on a task her focus was unbreakable until it was done, or she had to do something else without delay. Many put this down to simple dedication or strict discipline, which was true, she had another secret technique. It was most unorthodox, some might call it strange, and Brooklyn knew this and that's why it was a secret. While sitting at her desk, no one could see her crossed legs and shaking feet, or the empty water bottles tossed under it. All they could see was confidence and friendliness radiating from the tanned shipgirl.  She feared if they knew the truth about what made her excel so much at her work, that they would call her weird or walk away. Brooklyn never told a soul because of her secret to success. The method she kept so hush-hush, was a desperate need to pee.

It helped her concentrate on the here and now and kept her mind from wondering. Instead of thinking of using a public restroom she forced herself to wait until her work was done, stopping herself from wasting time that could be spent making battle plans or fleet compositions. Despite the desperation, she was always in control. She had never even so much as dripped onto the leather swivel chair where she spent most of her days. Sometimes she had burst into her bathroom on the very end of her limit, ripping her panties down and letting out a cascade into the toilet bowl. Today, however, she had pushed herself too far. Commander Thorson, the shikikan of Azur Lane, had asked her to stay longer to finish up reports on Siren activity in the south Pacific. This won't take long, she thought, this is vital to our efforts, and this will be a good opportunity to test me, I'm in control here, and that is how it shall stay. Oh, how wrong she was. 

The many Oxy-colas she had consumed during her shift and the lack of a bathroom break before she left her quarters, made her need to piss beyond description. She sweated in her seat and rubbed her thighs constantly as she scribbled down notes and annotated maps. The throbbing need in her pelvis growing by the minute. 90 minutes after she thought she would be on the porcelain throne, she handed in the fruits of her labour before beginning the agonising journey back. That had, of course, not gone as she assumed and now she stood there in pee soaked clothes. Brooklyn, who was one of the commanders closest companions and a formidable fighter had wet herself in public like a child. She felt deathly ashamed of herself at first, knowing that this could have been avoided if she had just asked for a moment to use the public restroom close by, but she chose to keep on going and now look what happened. But strangely, it began to feel good. She felt the warmth in her clothes and down her legs, the rush of hormones, the feeling of pee rushing hard through her urethra and out of her panties, and the euphoric relief as her bladder drained.

For a moment she contemplated what all this meant as she sat slumped against the front door before she inspected the "damage" she had sustained to her clothes. For just a fraction of time, she thought it was so good it might be worth repeating in private. Then all the good feelings and questions about what this experience meant were shattered, torn apart and thrown away by the only sound she dreaded of hearing. The voice of another person. But this was not just anyone; it was Cleveland, the person she loved and loved her back. The light in her life and a source of pure joy, and she just announced in front of her that she had enjoyed her wetting, as if walking in with sodden clothes was not bad enough.

The "Girl in stars and stripes" had emerged from the hall that led to the kitchen and now looked at Brooklyn. Arms folded and a smirk on her face she spoke again, "Oh shit?", Cleveland said, "don't you mean oh piss hahaha". Brooklyn was bright red and pale as a sheet simultaneously "Cleve i-i-i can explain this" Brooklyn started to shake as she tried frantically to think of what to say, "I-i erm I oh". "Cat got your tongue Brook?. Or is your mind as soggy as your socks" Cleveland giggled as she teased her girlfriend. Brooklyn felt tears stream down her face, and she collapsed to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as she sobbed, "Cleveland I'm so sorry, please don't call me a freak. I misjudged everything, and this is what happened. I did not plan to do this believe me please". She felt slimy and dirty as she went on all fours, her tears dampening the carpet, "Please don't tell anyone ill do anything".

Unbeknownst to her, Cleveland was in a fit of panic. Her teasing and playful behaviour had not gone as she hoped. She thought it would lighten the mood before they talked. After all, she had a lot of explaining to do herself, a lot more than Brooklyn.

(Flashback 2 months)

Cleveland clambered into the bathtub, exhausted after running at full speed from the classes she had been in. Her bladder throbbed inside her, her panties already damp from numerous leaks. Her shirt protruded outwards due to her large bladder bulge. Lying on her back, she wasted no time throwing off everything above her skirt save for her bra. A violent stream burst out of her panties within seconds, she moaned uncontrollably and started to finger herself. Urine soaked into her star-spangled knee highs and up her butt, snaking its way up her back. " FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, SO GOOD" she screamed as she felt an orgasm building. Her pee-soaked fingers brought her to the peak of ecstasy when suddenly, the front door opened. A chill went down her spine, she clenched hard to stop the flow and cover her mouth with her wet hands. The sound of frantic movement could be heard coming closer to the door, Cleveland quickly closed the bath curtain. Whoever it was outside was close enough to be heard. "Oh hell, I'm gonna burst, too much cola". Cleveland went wide-eyed, that was Brooklyn.

She watched her shadow pass by the bath in the direction of the toilet. Cleveland's bladder began to wear away at her hold, a small trickle ran into her substantial puddle. PLEASE DON'T HEAR THAT PLEASE DON'T, Cleveland thought to herself. Her lower regions were on fire due to holding back both orgasm and a small bottle's worth of piss. She heard Brooklyn's panties come down and her bottom hit the toilet seat. SHIT, SHE'S GONNA PISS.  The sound of a waterfall coming out of Brooklyn's pussy hit Cleveland like a sledgehammer. She let out an almost inaudible moan as she sobbed silently, not from sadness, but from the overpowering sensation of bliss mixed with fear. Brooklyn, sitting oblivious just a few feet away, let out a sigh as she let out the contents of her bladder. The sigh sent Cleveland over the edge, slamming her eyes shut and groaning into her hands, her cum added to the mix of fluids under her. Cum, sweat, tears and pee swirled as her hips bucked and legs shuddered. DON'T HEAR PLEASE, SO FUCKING GOOD, her mind went white.

By some miracle, she had avoided detection by Brooklyn and was able to get herself into a presentable state by the time they next encountered one another for dinner. But sitting at the table, watching Brooklyn tuck into pasta and meatballs, she could only think of what she heard. No one she had ever known had peed as much as Brooklyn did. She was there peeing at various speeds for 4 minutes, no one had ever done it that long, not even herself while holding. She knew Brooklyn had a long day at work with the commander, but she could take breaks when she wanted, so that was not the answer. Brooklyn's shift ended only a few minutes before Cleveland arrived home so there was no way she could have done anything to make herself that desperate. The only reason she could think of was that Brooklyn, her confident and upstanding girlfriend, had held in an ocean all-day on purpose. The thought made her dizzy. Was it possible she was into what the sakura called "Omorashi" like herself?. Cleveland contemplated what to do. Being a light crusier; she was a master at observation and recon. So she decided that is what she would do, observe, evaluate, and act accordingly.

Over the next two months, she studied in detail what Brooklyn's toilet habits were like. She listened to how strong her stream was, how frantic she looked before dashing into the bathroom, how many times she went to the bathroom, among other things. She checked the files on Brooklyn, every shipgirl had their estimated bladder capacity on their file. Brooklyn's was put down at 1987ml. Way too low for what I heard, she thought, her own estimate put Brooklyn at around 4987ml. To a human that would sound preposterous, but for a shipgirl, this was possible. After two months, Cleveland knew that Brooklyn was doing this on purpose. Nobody comes home after a shift where a bathroom is freely available and release half the Pacific out of their bladder unless they wanted to. The only problem was how to approach Brooklyn about this. Her answer came today while walking home.

(Flash forward to today 10 minutes earlier)

Drip, Drip, Drip. Cleveland slowly leaked as she walked down a dark path on the way back to her house. Her bladder muscles quivered with every step she took, yellow droplets spilling out onto the white brick below. Her eyes watered as she came to a stop. I'm not gonna make it, fuck you langley for stretching out that class on torpedo evasion. She glanced around, looking for anyone that might see her before hobbling into the knee-high bushes. I cannot believe what I'm doing dammit. She squatted down and removed her white panties. Her stream splattered against the dry mud, she bit her finger looking around anxiously. She was about to relax when suddenly she noticed a figure walking down the path. With colossal difficulty, she stopped her stream and started to crouch walk off in the direction of her and Brooklyn's home. Curiosity struck her, and she looked back over at the path, trying to identify the figure. Her eyes struggled against the dark to pick out who it was. Positive identification of the figure caused her to lose control at the same time as the mysterious figure.

Cleveland thundered through the forest and out onto the path further along.  BROOKLYN THAT WAS BROOKLYN, her mind screamed at her. She completely ignored the fact that her panties were now being soaked by her barely held back flood, a constant stream ran down her right leg. Her numb fingers fumbled with keys, a blast of warm air hit her, bright light, and then the door was shut. Her heart pounded. Every breath was heavy and ragged. She slumped onto her butt and let loose her the rest of her pee. She held her head in her hands as she tried and failed to comprehend what had happened. Her stream stopped, and she did not notice nor care. She slapped herself hard. This is your chance, you horny bitch pull yourself together and think of what to say. Weakly, she rose to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen. Removing an Oxy-cola from the fridge, she started to sip it and calm herself down.

What she had thought of too say had upset Brooklyn, or at least she thought it made her upset. As her own tears began to fall on the ground, she thought of some song lyrics that represented what she thought of the situation. "But on this battlefield, no one wins".

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