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  2. Between her own battle and seeing Sun fall from the cliff, Moon deserves an extra special change.
  3. Today
  4. I needed to pee, and I was in a rare mood to do it in my clothes. This is my first time sharing a video. I never thought I'd be brave/reckless enough, but today I couldn't get the thought out of my head. (With sound, you can hear it splashing on the floor...) https://www.xtube.com/video-watch/wetting-my-white-skirt-42939931
  5. I've been interested in hypnosis and mind control for quite some time. There's an obvious potential overlap with omorashi stuff there.
  6. Not only did she wet she enjoyed it and could talk endlessly about friends, colleagues or clients who wet themselves .
  7. It's the simple things in life. (Yes, it's me) https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5e4125cb729fb
  8. Move action; head to the docks and pick up the quest, just so she knows what's next before going to bed
  9. "Oh okay, that's great! In that case, Ill give you 20." She separates 20 pieces from her handful of glistwort and places it onto the counter. The old lady exchanges it for 10Ð. Elizabeth gladly takes it, proud of her first earning. The lady smiles. "A pleasure doing business with you," Elizabeth concluded. "Any time. Come by more often, Ill show you a thing or too, and good luck with school," the lady replies. Elizabeth nods with a beaming smile and leaves the store. The sun is beginning to descend towards the horizon painting the sky a crimson red with a mix of a beautiful orange and yellow along with the white of the clouds. Her bladder calls to her with increasing urgency and she resolves to head home for the night. Tomorrow is her last free day before university returns. Quests: >Nothing Here!
  10. Found some more: Peeing and wetting videos Desperation and wetting videos Gym clothes wetting videos Wetting videos (just one so far)
  11. Is it okay if mine sounds extremely unprofessional?
  12. A/N: This is currently (as of posting this topic) my latest offering to AO3 in the vein of Ace Attorney omorashi. I think it's a bit more kinky than my other one... but I'm still pretty vanilla overall. What can ya do? Oh, also, forgot to mention on first posting: The Latin phrase in camera is a legal term that literally means "in the chamber" and refers to sensitive information-- particularly personal identifying information-- that isn't meant to be viewed outside the chambers or the attorneys presenting said information. Phoenix Wright knew a lot about his boyfriend-cum-rival. He liked to think he did, anyway. They’d been through so much together, after all. Changed each other’s lives—Hell, even saved them on occasion. That had to count for something. He’d emerged from all their trials together knowing all kinds of things that L.A.’s foremost Chief Prosecutor would never begin to let on: That he was the biggest dork in existence (though, to be fair, only said Prosecutor thought that that was still a secret,) that he was prone to sleeping with the lights on; that he’d never be absolutely confident in himself, no matter what he said or achieved. Phoenix was glad to know all these things. Is it cheesy to say that he was “honored” to know? Well, he was. He was honored to know that he was trusted with the knowledge of so many little things that composed Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix was absolutely honored. Delighted. Totally stoked, even, to feel that he was trusted implicitly by Miles, a man who had distrusted people his whole life—often with good reason. But there were sometimes things, little, human things about the man that he couldn’t take. Stubbornness and self-righteousness... and the things Miles did because of them. Take this example: Just a few months into a fledgling romantic relationship, and Phoenix had taken it upon himself to suggest fun things for the pair to do together. The movies were his favorite. He and Miles both seemed to enjoy themselves, despite the discrepancies in their tastes. Almost without fail, one of them would end up enjoying the film, and the other would be filled to bursting with snarky commentary by its end. Of course, Phoenix was always bursting with other things by the time two hours and a large soda were finished, so it was another staple of theirs to rush over to the dilapidated restrooms afterwards. Miles would follow Phoenix dutifully as far as the door, but not without smirking that sardonic smirk of his. Once Miles had even asked his companion—laughingly, but still—if he were really so much of a child that he couldn’t wait until he got home. When Phoenix emerged from the room again, and the smirk hadn’t shifted, he hurried to defend himself. “Just because you don’t... what’s the big problem with it, anyway?” Miles tsk-ed at him. Phoenix couldn’t be sure if Miles really disapproved or if he’d simply remembered the time Phoenix had let slip how much he admired the moue of his lips when he made the sound. “It’s unsanitary, for a start. And I was under the impression that adults should be able to control themselves. What’s more, it’s practically an exhibitionist—” “Wait,” Phoenix interrupted, holding back a lungful of laughs, “you think using a public bathroom is exhibitionist?” The scowl and the glare and the red that had crept into Miles’ face were almost enough to chasten Phoenix. Almost. He was still giggling as he followed his delightfully hardass partner, who had swept past him and out the theater door. When they made it across the parking lot to the shining cherry-red sports car, Miles allowed Phoenix to climb into the passenger seat beside him, but disapproval was still radiating off of him in waves. Phoenix attempted to make it up to him with a moue of his own. “I’m sorry,” he wasn’t sure how honest he could sound with a breathless giggle tickling the back of his throat, but he did his best. “But... you’re the only one who thinks that way about public bathrooms, you know. It’s kind of crazy. I mean, I know you never have to piss like the rest of us mere mortals, but—” “Let’s go.” The words and the car’s acceleration from the parking lot were sharp and fast. Phoenix didn’t really know what to say for the rest of the trip—he’d never really learned how to bandage his boyfriend’s broken pride, after all—so he just watched the scenery as it went by, and said boyfriend, when the mood struck him. It was this watching that made Phoenix really begin to doubt his parking lot assessment. If it had been anyone else, he’d have said that he was sure that they needed the bathroom. But Phoenix had watched Miles and wondered in the past. They’d shared wine with dinner, drinks at the theater, and—at his urging—slushies at the local convenience store, all several times, and never once had Miles excused himself for the facilities. By that time, he supposed, Phoenix had really begun to believe that he just didn’t. That maybe, by sheer determination and unwillingness to do the “unseemly,” his boyfriend could force his body to reabsorb all the extra liquid it took in. So, even at that moment, when the great Chief Prosecutor squirmed and flexed his hands on the steering wheel, Phoenix wasn’t sure. He suspected, but he wasn’t sure. Not even when they stopped at his apartment, and he decided to turn around for a last word, only to find that Miles had openly crossed his legs. “Uh... do you want to come in, or...?” “No.” With that, Miles tore off into the night. Phoenix supposed he should have been upset, but the giggles took over again instead as a thought bubbled up to the surface of his brain. I wonder if that’s why Miles is always speeding. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Such thoughts didn’t want to leave Phoenix alone after that night. Every time he and Miles met, he had to wonder if this would be the day that he’d finally learn the secret; if this would be the time he would be entrusted with another one of the hundreds of disjointed pieces that made up the love of his life. But it was a long time coming. After the movie escapade, Miles seemed even less-inclined to drink anything at all when they were together. He’d also stopped smirking at Phoenix’s weak bladder, which was kind of nice, but also so unlike him that Phoenix began to get a little worried. Eventually, the thoughts simply evaporated from Phoenix’s mind. More important things—number one: trying to navigate his relationship with Miles past kisses, cuddling and general smart-assery—took their place, and he let that odd little fascination go the way of a certain detective’s salary. Until one day, that is. Phoenix had arrived in the Prosecutors’ Office just before noon, thinking to surprise his companion with a lunchtime visit. Miles’ secretary had been kind enough to let him in with a knowing smile and a promise to let Mr. Edgeworth know that he’d arrived the moment the prosecutors’ conference broke. It was a big deal, evidently, and the prosecutors attending couldn't possibly be disturbed for anything less than mortal news. Having spied the blue-and-red chess set standing in a corner of the obscenely large room, Phoenix decided to await Miles there (with the pretense of improving his game, but really to see if he could find any indication of who had crafted those spikey-headed pawns.) The defense attorney had been waiting for a solid half hour when he heard his boyfriend’s voice from the hallway—but it wasn’t pretty. Where were the deep, assured tones that he was used to hearing when Miles was on the job? Not there, certainly. They had been replaced by the same clipped rushing through words that Phoenix was only ever treated to when Miles was deeply upset or deeply pissed off. The voice approached the door in a rush, too. When its owner entered the room, he practically dashed in, frock coat swirling around his knees, as he decided at the last moment to throw a parting word to the people clamoring outside. “A moment—just a moment. This matter incorporates some very sensitive information. Sola in camera. Do you understand? I will report back to you within the next ten minutes. Now, please!” He shut the door behind him, against a few overlapping voices, and the lock might have turned. Phoenix wasn’t sure, what with the light wheezing and the quick, heavy footsteps across the marble floor filling the room. Miles seemed not to have sensed his boyfriend’s presence, but Phoenix felt no particular need to make himself known. Miles was so… oddly focused. He paused when he made it to the drawers in front of his massive window, and wrenched half of the curtain closed; there, he seemed to stop, just for a moment, before leaning down with a quiet groan and drawing something out of the bottom-most drawer. That was precisely what Phoenix saw come out of the drawer: “Something.” He couldn’t figure out what it was. The thing was similar to objects he’d seen in the past, but didn’t seem to be any one of them: It was like a kind of porcelain bowl, squatter than a vase, with handles and a muted floral pattern and a gleaming gilded rim, and it was cradled between his boyfriend’s noticeably trembling hands. Miles sighed as he touched the thing, again as he set it on the floor in front of him, and—last and loudest—a third time as he undid his belt and his buttons and began pissing into it. Violently, at that. Now, Phoenix could never be sure what made him laugh. It could’ve been nerves, or actual, bewildered amusement, or the laugh of the insane. But laugh he did, once. Loudly enough for him to slap a hand over his mouth and for the deluge sounding through the room to come to an abrupt halt. “What?!” Miles snapped, and glared frantically around. Comically, Phoenix thought, but he managed to swallow another laugh. Miles didn’t turn around, or even move to close up his pants, though—Phoenix could tell by the way he held his arm in front of him. “What... who’s there?!” “It’s just me, you big dork,” Phoenix said, amiably, he thought, but Miles didn’t smile, so he pressed a little further. “So this is what they mean by ‘in camera,’ eh? And here I thought it had something to do with Social Security numbers.” The prosecutor had been emitting a low, constant, groaning kind of noise since his partner had started speaking, and shifted wildly on his heels. Phoenix had barely finished his thought when he cut in: “Wright. You’ve got to go. Now.” “Aww, when did I become ‘Wright’ again?” Phoenix moped. “Besides, it’s clearly you who’s ‘got to go.’” Phoenix thought he was clever. Miles seemed to think he was the most infuriating thing ever dreamt up by creation. The free hand raking through his hair clearly spoke to that. “Please, Phoenix... now... I... I really can’t....” Every syllable seemed to take its own Herculean effort to be voiced. “I cannot... wait... much longer... d-don’t come any closer!” The defense attorney had decided to stand, and had already taken a few steps when Miles ordered him to stop. He didn’t, though. He took a few more steps and planted himself a few feet behind his partner and fixed his gaze on the tense, rosy line of his neck where it emerged from his collar. “Miles,” he said, careful as the prosecutor’s fingers had been on that gilded china, “this is ridiculous.” “I’m... plainly aware of that.” Phoenix could feel the shame hissing through his boyfriend’s gritted teeth. “N-now... if you could just... save the rest of your laughs for later....” “It’s not this... thing,” Phoenix went on, waggling his hand at the “thing” in question. (An old vase? A weird teapot? What?) “I mean... it’s ridiculous that you won’t just go.” “I... I can’t. Not with someone else here....” “Can too!” Miles shifted again, and sighed, hard and deep in his chest, and spoke to the ceiling, “N-no... I can’t. I’ve never been able to.... Not—” “‘Since you were a child’?” Phoenix supplied, and took another step closer. He barely heard his boyfriend take in a sharp breath through his nose. “We’ve overcome enough of your childhood issues to deal with this, don’t you think?” Miles spluttered indignantly, and, sensing what he would say, Phoenix interrupted him before he could speak. “Is it a little weird? Yeah, maybe. But it’s not ‘indecent.’ It’s not ‘unseemly.’ Everyone pisses.” Another splutter, this time with an air of derision. “What would you prefer I said? ‘Pees?’ ‘Micturates?’” “Nghh... I’d p-prefer that you... said... nothing.” “Just do it. Come on, Miles, you’re going to hurt yourself this way!” “You’re the one hurting me b-by... staying here....” He gasped suddenly, and Phoenix heard the barest tinkle of a stream against waiting porcelain. Taking this as a good sign, he rested his hand on one of the taut shoulders in front of him. “It’s just me. The guy who’s certifiably head-over-heels for you. And I don’t care. I won’t smirk at you when you’re done, you won’t hear me mentioning this to anyone, and everything will be fine.” “I can’t, I really... c-can’t....” Miles’ voice wavered between a word and a whine; his shoulder shook a little, and Phoenix leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “You can. Come on... I want you to.” Phoenix grasped his boyfriend’s other shoulder, and resisted the curious impulse to look down at Miles’ occupied hand. He looked sideways at his face, instead, with its bitten red lips, eyelids pressed tight together, and the black-framed glasses that had fallen halfway down its dignified nose. “No one’s going to be upset with you, least of all me. Come on... you’ll feel so much better....” For once, it appeared that Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth agreed on something. Miles said nothing, of course, but he seemed to physically acquiesce. He leaned back into the supportive hands just a little, and looked up at the ceiling, and the flood resumed before Phoenix knew what was happening. It was slow, barely trickling against the porcelain at first, but soon transformed into a steady stream singing weirdly from the inside of the vessel. But if there was any music to be had in that moment, it was in Miles’ voice, sighing once more, and whispering something soft and exhausted—maybe “God” or “Gott.” His eyes closed again, gently this time, and a hard shudder passed between his shoulder blades, and Phoenix would have bet real money that his partner would have moaned had he not been there. It was, as he’d said, totally fine... at first. But as they approached the thirty second mark, Phoenix couldn’t help but feel that it was taking far too long, and, despite all his assurances, he couldn’t bear all this silence but for the piss and the porcelain. He had to break in with something. “So... what brought this on?” Phoenix was gifted with a smile. A mere twitch of the corner of the mouth, yes, but a smile nonetheless. “A headache... a pot of green Darjeeling... and altogether too many people.” When Miles finally finished and put his clothes to rights, Phoenix was unsurprised to see the shame that threatened to overtake his boyfriend’s entire frame. It was clear in his downcast eyes and the nervous hand fumbling for the little bottle of hand sanitizer in his jacket pocket. “Phoenix—” “Don’t even worry about it. I get it. It’s okay.” Phoenix smiled. He leaned forward for a quick peck on the lips, and Miles managed to look a little less sick. “But... I did have one other question....” “Wh-what?” “What do you call that... thing?” Miles’ eyes fell again, and he muttered something to his shoulder. “Chamber-” something.... “Wait, what?” “It’s a... chamber pot.” Another laugh shot out of Phoenix, and another glare out of Miles. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but... ‘chamber pot’? Really? Only you, my dear, darling dork. Only you, ‘sola in camera’....” Slowly, a real smile bloomed over Phoenix’s favorite face. “Yes,” Miles murmured, “appropriate, is it not?”
  13. Here's a 3-paper "pissing match" -- the first paper tells about observing guys pissing at urinals with an experimenter standing next to them they take longer to start pissing and guys don't piss as long (arousal = shy bladder / pee shyness, not hard ons!); the second paper criticizes the ethics of the first paper; the third paper is a reply saying aw shucks it's Science! ==== https://psycnet.apa.org/record/1976-26047-001 Personal space invasions in the lavatory: Suggestive evidence for arousal. Middlemist, R. D., Knowles, E. S., & Matter, C. F. (1976). Personal space invasions in the lavatory: Suggestive evidence for arousal. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 33(5), 541–546. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.33.5.541 Abstract Tested the hypothesis that personal space invasions produce arousal in a men's lavatory where norms for privacy were salient, where personal space invasions could occur in the case of men urinating, where the opportunity for compensatory responses to invasion were minimal, and where proximity-induced arousal could be measured. Research on micturation indicates that social stressors inhibit relaxation of the external urethral sphincter, which would delay the onset of micturation, and that they increase intravesical pressure, which would shorten the duration of micturation once begun. 60 lavatory users were randomly assigned to 1 of 3 levels of interpersonal distance and their micturation times were recorded. In a 3-urinal lavatory, a confederate stood immediately adjacent to an S, one urinal removed, or was absent. Paralleling the results of a correlational pilot study, close interpersonal distances increased the delay of onset and decreased the persistence of micturation. Findings provide objective evidence that personal space invasions produce physiological changes associated with arousal. (21 ref) ==== https://psycnet.apa.org/record/1977-28127-001 Bathroom behavior and human dignity. Koocher, G. P. (1977). Bathroom behavior and human dignity. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 35(2), 120–121. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.35.2.120 Abstract An article by D. R. Middlemist et al (see record 1976-26047-001) reported a study of urinating behavior observed surreptitiously in a men's lavatory. In the present article, questions regarding the ethical propriety of the study are raised, along with questions about the role journals play in calling attention to ethical issues or problems in psychological research. ==== https://psycnet.apa.org/record/1977-28137-001 What to do and what to report: A reply to Koocher. Middlemist, R. D., Knowles, E. S., & Matter, C. F. (1977). What to do and what to report: A reply to Koocher. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 35(2), 122–124. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.35.2.122 Abstract In G. B. Koocher's (see record 1977-28127-001) criticism of the present authors' (see record 1976-26047-001) study of urinating behavior observed surreptitiously in a men's lavatory, a distinction is drawn between the discussion of ethics in an article and the consideration of ethics in designing research. Further information is provided about cost and benefit assessments in the present authors' study. Concerns for clear reporting standards are echoed.
  14. This thread got me thinking about past mishaps. So when I very suddenly had do a #3 on Friday, I pushed my pants down over my hips. Don't know why I was trying to save the pull up. But I ended up going on my diaper, my pants and wrong and right parts of the toilette.
  15. To my lights leaks come in 5 varieties: A dribble has almost no pressure. It's to little to soak through 2 clothing layers. A spurt comes out under pressure. A single spurt will soak through 2 clothing layers (excepting heavy jeans). 3 spurts will soak through almost any normal indoor clothing A saucer leak produces a conspicuous super-sized wet area. A to-knees leak flows for a few seconds before the leaker regains control. A flood refuses to stop until the bladder is nearly empty. Looking forward to others' meanings.
  16. I had been trying to stop from peeing when I was coughing. (I am so sick and tired of this cold!) It was one of those things where I wanted to see if I could, even though I probably would fail. So far it was going okay. I kept my big girl panties (they were red plaid) relatively dry. I was kind of proud of myself, actually. I was doing good. Then when later I wet my panties a bit. Oh well. It when I was on the way to the gas station to go for a soda. When I got there I decided to grab a 40 oz. I deserved it after the stressful day I had. When I got home, and after I finished my drink, I decided that I wanted to put on my wet boxers from the previous wetting day and warm them up again. They felt nice and cold, and I felt a extra naughty. I was wearing clothes that I had previously wet, and I was rewetting them Well it worked for about five minutes... Until I realized that those five minutes of wetting my bottoms were the only ones I would have. So I decided to actually really pee in them instead of leak just a bit before taking them right back off and put on a pull-up... It almost didn't work out the way I wanted. When I stood there, hands pressed tightly against myself and began to let a bit of pee escape, I found that I was having a hard time stopping. "Oh, please stop, please, come on, no, what are you doing?!" Finally before I completely soaked my 4 layers of boxers and the panties on the innermost layer, I stop peeing myself just in time. Before anyone could find me there piss soaked and half naked, I take the wet bottoms off and put on my pullup, knowing I'd probably piss myself at least a little. A while later my stupid cough I had been fighting with came back. Luckily I had the forethought to wear my pullup, because I peed myself at least 5 leaks already by then and I really didn't care. I probably would care just as little if I was wearing regular panties and pajamas. But I am wearing my pullup and it's already wet. Jump ahead to 8pm, about an hour later... It's bath time. When I wear a pull-up in the evening I don't allow myself to shower or bath until it is full, and at this point it wasn't even that wet yet. So because I really had to pee, I decided to fully wet the thing before getting rid of it and cleaning up for the evening. So I go into the bathroom and turn on the water to brush my teeth, knowing that the running water will induce a flow of unstoppable peeing. And it did. But not only did the front half of my pull-up get soaked, my PJs were also getting wet and the pee continuing down my leg, getting my sock wet, and leaving a small puddle at my feet. I tell myself, "stop, silly!" And I tighten up just enough to stop peeing. The back of my pull-up is still dry. I can't have that. So I take off my bunny pajamas and squat on the floor, and lean back. I start to pee again, letting it all flow back towards my bottom. The back part of my pull-up is now getting properly soaked... And then some. Now I knew all to well what would eventually happen. And it did. There was a growing puddle of piss pooling in the back side of my poor over- saturated pull-up. There was only one place for all of my pee to go. I lean forward again the pullup shifting, pressing against my bottom again, all the pee that had nowhere to go now, squeezed out the sides, making a bigger puddle beneath me. Turns out that I really enjoy squatting there and over-soaking my pull-up and creating a puddle of piss on the bathroom floor. It wasn't necessarily what I specifically planned, but I did enjoy it. Any time I can make a puddle is a good time.
  17. Born In America, Dads from Ukraine, moms from Estonia
  18. 2018 Chevy Impala, the 3.6 Liter V6 Engine, 4 cylinders are not my thing at all, horsepower= Grit
  19. I get where you’re coming from. But I like to tag it anyway. I want the readers to know exactly what to expect before reading.
  20. My girlfriend is a nurse and has a ginormous bladder. She can and does sometimes hold it for her entire 12 hour shift.
  21. Hey guys, I'm not sure if this has been posted, but I found a twitter page where this girl posts video's of her really desperate to pee, and then has an accident. Idk how much effort they give into preventing wetting themselves, but some of the videos have A LOT of pee. Super hot, had fun for hours browsing it lol enjoy! https://twitter.com/Those2OmoGirls
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