AngelNim 79 Posted June 11, 2018 Share Posted June 11, 2018 Great job on this so far! Can't wait to see where it goes. Quote Link to comment
daniel2 171 Posted July 2, 2018 Share Posted July 2, 2018 are you ever going to continue? Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted July 3, 2018 Author Share Posted July 3, 2018 22 hours ago, daniel2 said: are you ever going to continue? Yes, I'm currently working on part 3. I wish to do it quicker, but writing omo erotica is like banging your head against a wall endlessly, explaining the same concept in different descriptive words every single time. Still, I'm working on it... Just keep working... FullBladder85, watchinghold, Noone000 and 2 others 5 Quote Link to comment
watchinghold 71 Posted July 13, 2018 Share Posted July 13, 2018 Looking forward to this story's continuation, but no rush. Real life comes first. Have to say, I'm particularly interested in Francine's plight. Girls who can't wet are the hottest thing in the world to me, but at the same time I know that can be a double-edged sword. I'm wondering how much longer she can deal with this ability/inability before she's in real trouble. Also, yeah, I definitely feel your pain when it comes to writing erotica; it always comes to you best when you're horny as fuck, but you can only be that horny for so long before you have to "take care of business" and then you don't want anything to do with that sort of writing and just want to do something else. Or is that just me? bes31 1 Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted July 14, 2018 Author Share Posted July 14, 2018 Thank you sirrliv for your kind words (though I don't know who Francine is, maybe you're thinking of Felicity lol). Either way, just to set a deadline on myself (so I work faster), I'll have Chapter 3 out by July 16th and a side story out by the 20th. Aloe, watchinghold and daniel2 3 Quote Link to comment
watchinghold 71 Posted July 14, 2018 Share Posted July 14, 2018 Derp, you're right. I was thinking of Felicity. Sorry, it was late when I wrote that and I was tired, may have been thinking of a character from a different story. Glad you knew who I meant though. Looking forward to reading the next chapter and this side story. Though as always, don't push yourself. Let things come naturally. Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted July 17, 2018 Author Popular Post Share Posted July 17, 2018 Hey, I'm back. Originally I was going to use a whole bunch of fake iphone text screens for part of this story, but every website I found was a spam-site and fucked it up somehow. So unfortunately, I had to use PROSE and actually WRITE things, my hands are burning from the pain. I hope y'all enjoy it, and I will be posting a little special short story on the 20th. Either way. Part 3: No The second time I saw Felicia desperate was less surprising than the first, her consistent schedule had begun to clue me in to a constant pattern. Most days, I could catch glimpses of her end-day routine, talking with friends over the warm Afternoon skies, legs sometimes crossed, maybe a few wishful glances, but never panic. Sometimes, our final periods would match, and I would sit next to her as she complained, directed and shallow, with no intent to solve her slight problem. She would dispose stories of water consumption, of unavailable toilets, and her ‘locking conundrum’ - her own words, which usually prevented her from squatting in bushes. “It just won’t come out.” She spoke candidly, and I wondered if she ever truly understood why I was so focused. Felicia was a fantasy, a girl who always found herself in stress, daily she would endure the inevitable filling of her body, and most days she would endure until she reached her home. In her own words: “Most days I get home and I run to the toilets, maybe wait a few minutes if my parents or my brothers are in there, but yeah… Always need to go.” “Do you sometimes not make it?” I pried in, probably arousing suspicion. She shook her head vehemently, “Or like, go in the bushes or some shit?” “No, never.” “Never?” I clocked my head towards her, surely a hyperbole, right? “Never.” It was this word that rang in my head that sunny afternoon, the weather had been dreadful, the warm air engulfed us. I had seen Felicity one time prior in the day, where we made plans to deliver an English project from one house to another. At the time, she had kept her mouth constantly on a tall bottle of water, and with my knowledge of her bathroom habits, I became intrigued. ‘Never’, what a bold word. My mind flickered with images of Felicity losing control, wetting her pants helplessly on my front door, maybe even squatting on a bush by the side, I could hardly focus on the road. Swerving the car into my driveway, I took note of Felicity sitting at the small patio door. She stared at me through the tinted window, her legs crossed with a worried face, her hands finagled the edges of her rather short jean skirt, which enveloped the pale white skin of her thighs. We were seniors at this point, and her clothing showed it: She wore a casual tank-top with our high school’s logo plastered on the front with nothing underneath, the perkiness of her natural breasts were shown for the world to see. It was not a promiscuous showcase though, she had more important things on her mind. As I opened the door, she stood from the patio, wobbling her legs as she greeted me. “Bes. You took forever.” She was right, once she claimed her need for the toilet, I had selfishly taken a few laps around my neighborhood. Still, I looked down and accepted, the exasperated tone in Felicity’s voice rang dearly, this wasn’t a coy need like the last time. “You have the project.” She nodded, pulling her backpack from the patio chair and unzipping from the top, her legs bouncing up and down as she pulled out a long white poster, rolled up in a neat cylinder. She handed it to me, transitioning her hands back to her crotch, where she gave an uncomfortable courtesy to me. “Can we go over the project while you’re he…” “Yes! Just… Open up so I can get to the bathroom, please.” I abided, walking to the nearby door with my keys in my hand, I could sense Felicity watching from the side, waiting on me with baited breath, squirming and shivering. My hands shook from my excitement, and the house key wobbled in my hands, delaying her. “Really bad, huh?” I spoke, finding the key again. “You have no idea! I drank so much today!” The key slipped again, and the desperate eyes peered. I turned my head to see Felicity, she may have been furious, bent over at a slight degree, pushing down on the small patch of denim in front of her crotch. “You should have just went in the bushes.” I suggested, though I couldn’t imagine it being what she wanted to hear. “At someone else's house, you’re… uh… you’re crazy!” She gave a small moan as she spoke, and just as she spoke the key finally entered the hole, the knob twisted, and the desperate girl and I ventured into the house. Felicity had been here before, and she followed the walls to the nearest toilet like a dog to a scent, instinctively I walked behind her, noting every small step, every clutch, and maybe even a dribble. And then we were there, a bland beige door that was somehow a sanctuary in this time and need. I pretended not to watch as she gripped the door, it was luckily unlocked, and she began to enter. But then, Felicity turned back. “Can I use the bathroom?” I looked up, she spoke to me, bent forward, about the burst. She wanted permission? “I never asked… May I go.” My brain snapped from instinct, it was too dumb of a question to warrant thought. “What? Of course you can.” She smiled and nodded, quickly escaping sight behind the door, locking in its place. From inside the room, I could hear the muffled sound of a stream, long and loud, but all I could think about was that question. ‘Can I use the bathroom?’, why would she ask that? It’s not like I could’ve stopped her. Maybe Felicity is just too kind. Maybe, I should have said no. “No.” I imagined the look on her face after that resounding word, confused and tormented. Maybe she would ask again, and my reply would be the face, she would close the door. Maybe she would walk back to the main room, we would discuss the project as she moans constantly, her legs trying to force the charge of urine to remain in her body. Maybe she would piss herself in the middle of the room, losing control as I could watch with amazement in her eyes. Maybe she would drive away with the full bladder, and I could only imagine the torture that would remain for her. Maybe I would have betrayed her trust, maybe she would have hated me, maybe she desperately wanted for me to say no. I smile with a certain glee, this feeling of power that felt so wrong yet was wonderful to me. If only I could say no… The door swung open, and Felicity appeared, spree and relaxed, smiling from ear to ear. “Thanks. That felt so good.” I smiled back, hiding my sudden melancholy from the happy girl. I could never say no, I thought to myself, nothing was worth hurting my friend. I just hope someone else says no for me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you could imagine what 12 bursting women looked like when a bathroom was presented to them, the actual result would be a lot more hectic. Hanna and Felicity had turned to the bathroom, but were currently at our table. Felicity stayed sitting, her rigid form told me that any wrong move and she could explode, but Hanna was more energized. Hanna ran back up to the toilets, where Jasmine and Erica stood, both of the desperate couple were pacing towards the open toilet as well. “Wait! I was in line first!” Hanna panicked, almost yelling at the two desperate women, Jasmine was still with cross-legged, and Erica was swaying from right to left. “You got out of line, sister.” Erica retorted, she had spent most of her energy on the more desperate Jasmine, but Erica was certainly desperate, her available hand felt attached to her fraily skirt, and now that the bathroom was available she stood with one thigh in front of the other, pushing on themselves. “Come on… Please.” Hanna had a case, she had stood at the occupied toilet for nearly 20 minutes, waiting impatiently, dancing, clawing pushing. Still, all was fair in love and piss (I think that’s how the saying goes), and therefore Erica did lot let off. “MRTOWNSCANIUSETHEBATHROOM!” From the other table, one of the school-girls had screamed out her wishes. It was Jessica,the nosy, ultra-desperate schoolgirl with long brown hair and a scrunched up dress. All 7 of the girls were in a tiffy, the teacher Mr. Towns had made an ultimatum: Piss yourself and you fail the course, but at this point, they might not have had a choice. As the toilet opened, the girls fought to ask Mr. Towns for permission first, but it was the bursting Jessica. “I’m about to piss myself.” Erica said, though her complaints fell on deaf ears. “You think, I’m not!” Hanna yelled back, it was no catight, any extraneous movements and both girls could lose control of their overfilled bladders. “Alright, Jessica. You can all go one at a time. Except you, Candice.” Mr. Towns turned his eyes to the girl closest to me, she maintained a calm composure, but you could tell something was bubbling under the surface. Jessica had stood up, leaving the six other struggling girls, and hobbled over to the bathroom. “I was here first!” Hanna was never like this, normally calm and composed, she had reached her breaking point. This surprised me, not only was it irrational for her character, but also because I had seen Hanna hold for so much longer. Maybe she had drank too much. Erica was also seemingly irrational, both women being strung along by this immense pain. “Excuse me.” Jessica spoke, standing behind the arguing girls. In their arguments, neither of them went into the bathroom, wasting time for everyone. The smaller girl’s cries turned Erica and Hanna’s eyes, both seemingly in control compared to the tortured Jessica, who was permanently bent forward, hand pushing down with force. “Can I please go, I don’t know it I can hold it much longer.” Her voice nearly cracking, too much force being exerted to be composed. “There’s a line that…” Erica spoke, but Jasmine interjected, pushing her lover’s thoughts to the side. “Wait.” Erica and Hanna turned to Jasmine, stuck to the wall, legs bent inward, but still holding a fairness to her. Jasmine would be the savior to the girls. “These girls have to go more, we can wait for them.” Jessica nodded, and as she stood I noticed a small splotch of darkness on her gray dress, she was losing control quickly. “Look at them, they’re about to explode.” It was fair, turning my eyes to the table revealed a mass desperation, the girls sat at the table, fidgeting, squirming, most not paying attention to the food in front of her. The girls were all holding crock pots about to explode, sans Candice, who seemed calm and alert. Candice had her attention to the girl next to her, an Indian girl in a red dress, who was in obvious pain. “You don’t understand, I’m… We are about to explode, Jasmine!” Erica stood in front of the door, searching for a polite time to enter the free bathroom, Hanna watched from the side as well, more empathetic. I had sympathy for everyone, they were all bursting, but I could see the splotches continue to appear, Jessica losing control in short order. And for Erica, such a conclusion only took a glance, the desperate women relaxed her grip on the door, and Jessica slinked through, thanking the adults. She was the first to relieve herself. “Mr. Towns!” Another girl spoke, the hispanic girl with a firm body. She had a tougher posture, but was succumbing to the urges. “Can I go on line, please?” “When Jessica exits, you can Maya.” Maya crossed her arms again, the rules were now set: Whoever asked first would go first (except for Candice, who relaxed at the edge of the table, sometimes even sipping her water). This realization changed the tables mood, what was once doom-and-gloom became almost a competition, the girls all watched the bathroom door-- the first to recognize the turning of the door handle would be the winner, and the losers would have to wait a few more excruciating minutes. It was not a meritocracy, some girls had to go more than others. Out of the remaining girls, two caught my eye: A ginger girl sitting far away from me, her head from bent down, her eyes invisible. I could only imagine she was pushing down on her urethra, restricting the encompassing flow. The other girl was near me, the Indian girl, with long hair and a red dress, who was slouched over in her chair, while her actions were meant to be hidden, my angle allowed me to see her hands rubbing and massaging her inner thighs, sometimes squeezes from knuckles. I kept my eyes away, as I did not wish to be caught. When the door handle pushed downward, nearly the entire restaurant reacted. Maya, who won the race, stood up with urgency, she was dressed in a white blouse and indigo jean shorts, she pulled down on the edges of her shorts as she hopped to the lavatory. Jessica walked back to her seat, still anxious from her close call. Erica and Jasmine had walked away from the hallway, they would sometimes whisper in each other’s ears, probably words of encouragement, both of them seemed in a terrible state. The angriest was Hanna, who was still dancing around, pacing back and forth from her miserable state. Finally, at the table the 5 remaining desperate girls prodded: “MR. TOWNS”, “MR. TOWNS.” “MR. TOWNS?” “Mr. Towns.” “MRTOWNS!” “Kay, you can go next.” Mr. Towns spoke, guzzling down a cup of coffee. Kay must’ve been the tomboy, as she gave a sigh of relief. I wondered if the teacher saw the large stain on her light-colored jeans, loosely fitting with urine trickling down. As the remaining girls settled, one particular girl had turned to the ginger. It was the asian girl, with a twisted grin on her face. “What’s wrong, Beth?” The Asian girl said in a cruel, conniving tone, the words ringing high in octave. Beth responded in a grimace and what I had to imagine was a small whisper, I could not see her lips move, but I could see the girls smile, trying to expose poor Beth, who was certainly the most pained of the girls at the table. “Are you about to piss your dress?!” the girl continued, she must have been a bully, the way she spoke with a sarcastic grin, the way that Beth refused to look at her, it was all humiliation. What didn’t make sense to me was that the bully was also bursting, not as much as Beth, but was constantly shifting her feet, clanging knees together, holding in a swath of urine. Projection maybe, all I knew was that it wasn’t unusual, the other girls at the table stared but were not shocked, watching the bully. “It would be so embarrassing if you wet yourself here in this diner and--” “Stop it, Christine.” Beth enunciated, and all heads turned towards her. “What’s wrong, about to lose control?!” Christine kept talking, her voice grating on my ears with her sing-songy, joking tone. Beth shuffled her legs around, plopping her head back on the table, trying to ignore Christine. “You feel all that urine bursting out of you while everyone watches.” “Christine!” From across the table, Candice spoke, nearly a yell. “Shut the fuck up, for once!” All heads swiveled over to the girl nearest to me, I quickly pulled my head forward, noting Mark and Felicity watching the other tables events with similar investment. I turned my head back, seeing the action myself. “Language, Candice.” Mr. Towns spoke, he wasn’t paying close attention to his classmates, guzzling coffee while playing with his phone. “And no teasing, Christine.” He spoke with less conviction, just enough for his words to have no meaning. Christine turned to Beth, malice in her eyes, stretched out her arms and began to tickle the desperate girl. “Christine!” Beth bounced upwards in her chairs only to shrivel up, her body contorting to this sudden torture. The action was small, Christine had gently prodded her fingers on the exposed arm of Beth, but Beth’s response is expected of someone who was filled with piss. “Chris--eugh--” She moaned, certainly from stopping a spurt of liquid, “STOP IT!” Around her, girls around her began to act, specifically Jessica (who was free from the bladder torture) and Candice had stood up, trying to separate the bully from the victim. The fastest mover was Beth, who stood up despite the spasms from the full bladder, she sprinted away from the table, arriving in the middle-point between the hallways and the table, nearest to her were Erica and Jasmine, who watched the desperate girl. And was she desperate! Now that I could see below her waist, Beth was a total mess. Her red and white dress was crinkled from the pulling, and from a limited amount of spurts, a relatively large black splotch existed in the bottom, inches away from thighs. It did not reduce the desperation, as Beth did a frantic dance: Side to side, up and down, tears in her eyes from the constant pain. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I had already seen once accident, and Beth seemed much more desperate than Darlene did. “Uhhh!” She moaned again, her pale thighs shaking under the pressure. Erica, whose situation was nearly as dire, watched as if it was a car crash-- If Beth didn’t get to a toilet in the next few seconds, she was about to explode. “MRTOWNS!?” Beth screamed, the slight ticking must have been the last straw, and now the girl was nearing destruction. I could tell nearly the entire restaurant was watching, and she had every right to prevent such an embarrassing moment. “Please let me go next, I can’t…” “Now, Bethany.” Mr. Towns spoke, a little more worry in his voice, but now with a condescending tone. “We have rules, and Kay is going next--” “I CAN’T HOLD IT!!!” Beth screamed her lungs out, and the entire restaurant looked (even a family on the other end who had entered for a meal during this madness). “OH GOD!!” Beth bent over again, trying everything in her power to resist nature’s call. But she was losing the battle, and we all could see it, especially Erica and Jasmine, who must have been worsened by the presence of such a desperate person. Erica looked on edge, constantly brushing around her flappy mini-skirt, Jasmine found a way to look more rigid, squeezing on her urethra with vice-like grip. Even Hanna watched, who was sitting down at the edge of the wall, and even though from my angle I could see her white panties and inner thighs, she only cared about her fully bladder and poor Beth. “S..She can go…” Kay spoke, as the intensity of the room began to rise. Even I, with no stakes involved, had a beat in my stomach. “This is pretty crazy…” I said to Felicity, but she did not respond, in her own world I figured. “No! You will wait until after Kay as that is the rules!” Beth grimaced, pushing down even harder, more splotches of darkness appearing on her red and white dress, every second ticking down to losing control. Beth twisted her waist around, her knees interlocked and bent together in a puzzling daze. “Uhhh!” Another moan from Beth, and now Candice stood up again, visible fire in her eyes. “This is bullshit!” Candice yelled at Mr. Towns, forcing the teacher to actually make eye contact with one of the girls. “She’s about to piss herself, and you don’t care! Let the fucking girl get in their next!” “Language, Candice!” “Listen to me! You force us onto a bus for 8 fucking hours, no rest-stops, no lunch breaks, and you expect us to be fine! What are we, some form of slave to you! What right do you have to do this shit! Now Towns has stood up, a slight bit of anger forming on his creased face. “Young lady!” “Don’t young lady me!” The diner was now focused on Candice, but I kept an eye on Beth, who was still bouncing, struggling heavily, every movement designed to resist the impenetrable wave. “What right do you have to stop her, you fascist asshole!” “You do realize that I could have told the bus drive to not stop here, right!?” Mr. Towns dropped his defenses, and his anger shown through. “And while I have done something explicit for all of your own good, you treat me as if I am a fascist. I am a fascist!” Mr. Towns smiled, shaking his head. “No, I am your teacher. You all were put in this class so you could become proper members of society, and guess what: Not urinating yourself is part of being a proper member of society!” Silence sprung as Candice had no response. Nothing Mr. Towns said was false, we do expect people to hold constantly until they find a place to relieve themselves, and it’s not his fault that the bathroom has been delayed. Even Maya had taken her time, and all girls were paying the price, but not because of Mr. Towns. The seconds raged on, and the crowd waited for Candice’s response with baited breath. I could see her staring back, words on the tip of her tongue, ready to find the answer, to expose the asshole teacher once-and-for-all. But then there was another noise: “EAAHHHHH!!!” We turned towards the edge of the diner where Beth stood, her legs now almost straight, and from between the legs and between the cloth of her red dress, a long stream of urine fell, landing on the tile floor. The response was mostly shock, as the puddle increased in size, but many looks of sympathy as well. Beth’s face was heartbreaking, pent-up pain alongside sadness and embarrassment, she seemed to be on the verge of sobbing, unable to fight this pain anymore. And it wouldn’t end, almost 45 seconds passed and piss was still coming out. Hanna had averted her eyes, squatting over towards the wall, hand still pushing down. Felicity remained in the same state, bursting, but locked up. At the table, the remaining desperate girls were clutching their crotches with looks of sympathy, even Christine, the bully, had a look of shock and cringe on her face. After 50 seconds, the final trickles came out almost exactly at the same time as Maya, who had been in there for 3 minutes had exited, and the sobbing Beth took an eye for the now opened, maybe a reprieve as the wet girl ran towards the open bathroom. Maya evaluated the scene with shocked eyes as Beth ran past her, entering the bathroom just a minute too late. And as she opened the door she… “WAIT!!!” A scream, desperate and needy was heard, probably for Beth. I looked towards the table, figuring it was from Kay (who despite the wet stains on her jeans, still desperately needed to use the bathroom, but the scream came from farther). I evaluated the room before looking back at the puddle, and Erica. “Wait!” Erica screamed again as Beth stopped, she was nearly standing on her urine, as Beth had pissed near their location. That action, the accident and all the watching must have awoken what Erica had maintained, as her body was in complete fight-or-flight mode. She had to pee. “Please! I’m in the same spot that you are in! I’ve tried to hold it but… Oh God.” She stopped, and my eyes turned to Jasmine, who must’ve noticed the stains before anyone else. Suddenly, Erica was still, and then she burst. It was as if her crotch was a hand grenade, as Erica dress was almost immediately drenched from bursting out urine, soddening her mini-skirt and layering over her dark skin. “OHHH!!! OHMYGODD!! NO!!!” She attempted to stop the flow, squeezing down on the skirt, but the act had caused her to lose her balance on the immense puddle of urine. The women fell down to her knees, urine still coming out. Jasmine could only watch, barely holding on as her girlfriend fell to the immense struggle, they had claimed that they couldn’t find a bathroom all day, and watching the propensity of urine that came out, I believed them. As the urine trickled out, the diner fell into silence. It had been one hell of the night, and as darkness fell on the highway, there were still eight desperate women. Candice, Kay, the Indian girl and Catherine still remained with full bladders, Hanna and Felicity kept strong, the waitress had been on the other side of the room with the other family, but even she remained full, and finally Jasmine, who held on as her girlfriend kept her misery to herself, crying but without the theatrics. Also, I noticed that Beth had entered the bathroom, preventing the still desperate girls a chance, it was selfish, but at this point I had nothing but sympathy. As the tension wore down, I smiled at Felicity again, who was still locked up. “Hell of a piss stop, huh?” I smiled, but her reaction stayed the same. “Y’know, we could always find somewhere else.” “It’s a sunk-cost at this point.” Felicity said, “besides, we really only have ten minutes until we get our chance.” I nodded. Looking back, none of us had any idea just how bad it would get. This was only the beginning of the most hellacious, absurd night of our lives-- a life predicated on one thing and one thing only. Finding a God-Damned usable toilet. It was ten minutes later when people began to tense up again. Everyone was maintaining, Hanna still was hanging on, Felicity remained sitting, the four remaining desperate girls were antsy, but holding on. But there was one problem, Beth wasn’t getting out. As I continued to chew on the slice of cherry pie that we ordered, I noticed out of the corner of my eye one of the girls standing up. It was Kay, who must have been very annoyed with this roadblock, once Beth leaved, she could pee. Kay hobbled past the waitress, trudging through the large puddle of two girls accidents, holding on despite the circumstances, she walked past Jasmine caring for her girlfriend, cleaning her up with napkins as Erica gave a remorseful cry, she even walked past the bursting Hanna, who was in no mood for anything but relief, and went to the bathroom door. *knock* *knock* Kay banged with authority, and the desperate girls looked on, especially Christine and the Indian girl, who were both still bursting. Candice kept to herself, but now her legs were crossed, still a far-stretch from the other girls. *knock* *knock*, once again Kay struck the door. “Listen, Beth… I’m sorry about what happened, but there are still girls here that need to go, could please open up.” Silence again, Kay putting her ear on the door, waiting for some muffled response. Once again, I was watching intently, looking at Kay’s worried face, her legs even slightly dancing as she did her task. It wasn’t until her eyes turned to horror that I was aroused again. “Beth, you don’t under---” She spoke again, a rise tone in her voice. Now the desperate girls were watching, worried again. “Beth? Beth!” “Kay, what did Bethany say?” Mr. Towns spoke as Kay walked back with trepidation. All of the girls watched as well, and I noticed the Indian girl holding down on her pussy, worse than ever, needing a positive response. “No.” Kay spoke with slight shock. “No? Tell me what she said.” “You don’t understand.” She fell silent again, realizing that for all the girls, the nightmare was not over. “She said ‘No’.” HoldingPrinces, Caruso33, Rinatro and 6 others 9 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted July 17, 2018 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted July 17, 2018 Damn this story is excellent I'm looking forward to reading more Quote Link to comment
FullBladder85 374 Posted July 18, 2018 Share Posted July 18, 2018 Wow, when I read the title of the next part, and the flashback I thought that was where it came from. I had no idea it would come from a great ending to part #3 like this. ? Again, thanks so much for writing this great story. ? bes31 1 Quote Link to comment
DespMely 287 Posted July 18, 2018 Share Posted July 18, 2018 Very, very good story. I really like your writing style and, of course, love the setting. Thank you for your effort! Quote Link to comment
Caruso33 12 Posted July 19, 2018 Share Posted July 19, 2018 First of all, I actually don't think Beth is gonna come out of the bathroom for a while, going to the point where she might wait until all the other girls piss themselves before coming back out. And secondly, I cannot wait for the next chapter! That was a good cliffhanger, man. Quote Link to comment
Midd 88 Posted July 19, 2018 Share Posted July 19, 2018 This is so good! Loving this story! You need to continue! Quote Link to comment
daniel2 171 Posted September 11, 2018 Share Posted September 11, 2018 Will you ever continue? Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted September 11, 2018 Author Share Posted September 11, 2018 5 days. Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted September 11, 2018 Author Share Posted September 11, 2018 I'm sorry about being so irregular. Truthfully this is a fun side-project, which means that I enjoy writing all of this, but also means that many other things are prioritized: School, work, other writing projects, I'm practically stuffed. Also, to tell you the truth, am not able to put my nose to the grindstone and just WRITE, I really wish I could be like Holditin or BulgeLover who seems to just tank out epic stories that are always excellent. I'd be a better writer if I were like them, but the majority of time I can't break out of the writer's block, I stare at a white page for an eternity, ideas reaching half-reality before being pushed aside. It frustrates me a lot-- I want to be better-- I just gotta keep working at it. What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry for being so slow, and I will be better. Truthfully, the best way to keep me going is just to remind me like you do Daniel. I do think that motivation from readers helps me a lot and is so meaningful to me. Either way.... I'll be back in four days. watchinghold, Aloe, daniel2 and 1 other 4 Quote Link to comment
FullBladder85 374 Posted September 12, 2018 Share Posted September 12, 2018 (edited) So much of that sounds just like me and my own struggles. I know how it is staring at the page and getting writer's block. I wish I had the confidence you had to even say a story will be finished in X days. That said, I do think that this is the best story that you've ever written. Normally I wouldn't think constant flashbacks like you do with Hanna and Felicity would really work out, but the way you do it they fit right into the story without feeling like an awkward interruption of the main plot. And they're great short stories in themselves to with familiar characters. Edited September 12, 2018 by FullBladder85 (see edit history) Quote Link to comment
StormrReaper 28 Posted September 12, 2018 Share Posted September 12, 2018 this is excellent please continue Quote Link to comment
daniel2 171 Posted September 12, 2018 Share Posted September 12, 2018 Thanks for keeping us updated I can wait a few days Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted September 13, 2018 Author Share Posted September 13, 2018 On 9/11/2018 at 7:50 PM, FullBladder85 said: So much of that sounds just like me and my own struggles. I know how it is staring at the page and getting writer's block. I wish I had the confidence you had to even say a story will be finished in X days. The key is the deadline, you set one for yourself and you can no longer just put it off for the next day. A modest deadline with a word-per-day count makes writer block go away most of the time. Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted September 15, 2018 Author Popular Post Share Posted September 15, 2018 (edited) Chapter 4: Layla The thing about small towns is that everything spreads: News, gossips, conversations, happenings, even your hidden secrets get found by a careful eye. Everyone is somebody's’ someone, and therefore you don’t have the luxury to be around strangers. This means that gossip must be told in locked rooms, all windows must be closed before a fight, and that in any rather adversarial moment, you cannot embarrass yourself on the side of the street. “This is really bad, Layla.” My sister spoke, reminding me of the fact for the 40th time. We had found ourselves on a long stretch of open land between houses, a standard walk but one that was compromised this time. Danielle, my sister, had drunk too much pop at lunch, and now-- ten minutes from relief, felt the need to endlessly complain to me. “I get it.” Danielle struggled to keep up with my pace, her legs were crossed at points, back hunched over with a rhythmic bouncing along with her walking motion. “You’re not going to get anywhere walking that slowly!” “I can’t hold it, I can’t--” “Oh come on! You’re sixteen--” “Layla, I can’t hold it!” “Go pee on the grass!” “What if someone sees me!” I knew that was the rebuttal before I even made my suggestion. Maybe if it were an alley in New York City, some big metropolis where you can see someone and never see them again. But here-- If Mandy drives past my sister squatting, she might tell her husband Kyle, who’ll tell Butch at work, who would tell Nancy at the diner, who might tell the whole damn town! It would be nice, though, letting go. All the theoretical talk of urination only reminded me of how much pop I had drunk-- and the strong pain lingering in my abdomen. “Let’s just focus on getting to a toilet.” Danielle had become quiet again, though the light moans and stressful cries kept diverting my focus. I need to get to the toilet, Danielle could not see me wet myself. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, looking back on the moment, but at 18 I could not let my younger sister see how desperate I was. If she was in front of me, maybe she would have seen the frustrated grimace on my face, or how I would sometimes pat down near my inner thigh, sometimes rubbing the small part of my legs covered by my dark-blue daisy dukes. You just had to keep walking. Walking was relief. You have to keep walking. “Y’know my friend Jean?” I spoke, changing the subject. “Yeah?” “She went to New York City this winter. You know what she said was the worst part?” “Listen if you’re going to talk about water, I really can’t…” “There is nowhere that you can pee. She told me that she would leave her hotel and take a subway every day, which meant that she couldn’t just come back to the hotel. But in the city, there are almost no available bathrooms.” “But they’re in buildings?” “That’s what I thought, but, that’s what she said. She also told me about this one time she was shopping in this place called Soho, big fashion district, really expensive. Well, she’s shopping for 30 minutes and she suddenly really needs to pee. No problem, right? Some store is gonna have a toilet… But none of them do! She’s searching every store for 2 hours, now just dying for a piss, and can’t find a single one.” “That sounds horrible.” “It gets worse, because she finally finds the only place in Soho with a bathroom. A Starbucks, she runs in and she sees this massive line! 100 women, all shoppers just bursting for a pee. A line like that would take an hour, maybe more! So Jean panics, she’s dying for a piss, she’s about to explode, she needs a toilet but there isn’t one.” “Can you tell me later, I really don’t want to hear about--” “Wait, I’m getting to the point! Because Jean only panics for a second because suddenly she realized that there are no toilets in Soho. That pain she is feeling, that bursting pain was suddenly not one of anxiety, but one of just pain, like a stubbed toe or bruise. That pressure is no different than braces. She told me that she shopped for four more hours, fullest bladder she has ever had, but she wasn’t bursting.” “What’s the point?” “The point is that it is all mental, you are dying for a piss but that’s only because there is a toilet in the future. What if there wasn’t one? What if we just were walking for fun!” I looked back to see a tired expression on my sister’s face, she was not amused, still bent over, hands pushing on her urethra. “It’s only pain.” “Well, if it is only pain. Then it really, really hurts.” “Fair enough.” I smiled back at her. It was true, it really, really hurted. “Let’s get home-- it’s only five minutes away.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Even by the most modest standards, Yorksen was a small town. Quaint, quiet, without even the faintest bustle beyond the cars rattling past, some might even say that Yorksen was a parallel universe to what you’d come to expect from this part of the world. Of course, most of the world doesn’t see the beauty of Yorksen, most see it as a mistaken exit on the freeway, forcing drivers to zip to the right, do a u-turn, and re-enter the highway. From my house, you could almost watch the unfortunate drivers do the process, only a few would enter the town for more than a few seconds. If you were the lucky ones, you could see a handful of roads painted with small homes on the grassy fields. There was a gas station, a measly, old Chevron with a particular nasty grump at the front counter. There was also a hotel, shabby and plain, where only the exhausted would venture to from the road. Drive a little forward, and you would begin to see homes-- some were rural and other were minimal, but all kept a specific Northeastern charm. This charm was what most Yorksen folks considered pride. Oh--- and there was the diner. Right off of the highway, it was a relatively common place for eats and for-- more necessary needs. Most people entered their because they new it would be the last place before the endless highway that followed. If you had the faintest hunger or pinch in your bladder, you might as well enter into the blast from the past. The soft neon on the window and the cracking paint chips made it comfortable while it fell apart. End Of The Line Diner-- even now I could smell the coffee and pancakes. In total, Yorksen was 200 people strong, most having lived here their entire lives. A little dispatch of humanity off the highway, with hardly any mobile service, only a drip of internet and a lot of open space. It was beautiful and I could not wait to leave. But for now, I had to finish school-- And right this moment, I just had to keep walking. Just keep walking. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *CRANK* *SPUT* *BRRR* Every shake the old suspension on the school bus made rattled to my core. The highway road always had this effect on the short, yellow bus I took every morning, but today felt particularly threatening. I counted seconds, minutes, anything I could to take my mind off of--- it. We were ten minutes away from school, and I had resorted to a long green pen from by backpack, using the pen to push down on my crotch, pinpointing the pressure straight in the middle. It might have been embarrassing, but it was the only way to stop the flood. “Layla?” Jean had taken notice to my strange actions. If your friend next to you began pushing down on her urethra with a pen would you not notice? Besides, my skirt was crinkled and pulled up, a result of me tugging and playing with the edges, rubbing my thighs vicariously. “Are you going to be okay?” “I… I don’t think so.” I bounced around again, changing the position of the pen from the edge of the point at the top. The strong pressure was enough to seal the lid-- but for how long? This could not be healthy! “I’ve never needed it so badly.” I said through sweat and tears. Jean had been a loyal and empathetic friend my entire life, and I could see worry in her eyes as well. I was not kidding, this was the worst bout of desperation I had ever had. The night prior, I already knew my fate. I was grounded that week, which meant I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t hang out with friends, and most importantly, I stayed in my room. At night, as I laid in bed, I could feel the pings of my bladder yelling to me. I could have pulled a trash can, but I didn’t want to make a mess. Instead I just lied, staring at the ceiling, taking my mind off my full bladder. The surprise was dozing off, and waking up with a strain down in my belly I had never experienced before. Immediately, I sat up and pushed down on my panties, making sure that no urine had escaped from it. Nope, completely dry. I flopped off the bed, pulling a white bra and my school uniform. I could hardly focus on the holes, or the movements to put on the clothing, I could only twitch and squirm from the incredible liquid forced inside of me. A glance to the mirror confirmed it, my bladder was protruding nearly an inch out of my thin stomach. I almost was impressed before I remembered how much each drop was hurting me. “Y’know I have a water bottle..” Jean treaded forward, a bit of caution in her voice. It hurt so much, but I couldn’t risk it-- there was too many people I knew, too many eyes, too many mouths. On the bus from Yorksen to the school there were only 10 kids. That was the reason that there was no simple bus trip, but instead we were pushed onto the highway. Yorksen was too small, and if even one of the 10 saw myself filling a water bottle with urine-- it would be a disaster. But so would wetting myself, and as even the pen could not stop the throbbing pressure, that was becoming more and more of a reality. It just hurt so much-- I remembered that morning pushing away a small glass of orange juice, poured from my Mother. She could probably tell from my shakiness and my posture that something was horribly wrong-- but so was skipping breakfast. “Drink, Layla.” “I’m fine--” I spoke near a whisper, walking the line of talking back. Mom couldn’t see it, but I was sitting precariously, my right heel found itself lodged between the hard wood and my crotch, providing a comfortable but still troubling spot. My chest still twitched and my left foot tapped the ground endlessly. It was obvious, so obvious that even Danielle could see it-- she looked with a confused glance. But my mother must’ve not cared. “It’s good for you.” She pressed, flipping eggs on the stove and not even batting an eye. “I’m not thirsty, sorry.” “Why you--” “I’m not thirsty!” “Don’t fight your mother-- It’s just orange juice.” Dad responded from inside the walls of his newspaper. He wasn’t even paying attention, and assumed my anger was out of spite. He couldn’t see me bouncing either. At this moment, I had to be candid. “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, but if I drink any more, my bladder is going to explode.” I levelled my feet and pushed down on my school-uniform, squirming around almost as an obvious sign. Mom stared back, and even Dad pulled down the newspaper ever-so slightly to catch a glimpse. But it wasn’t enough to convince them either way. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom chimed in, pushing the orange juice back in my face with the most apathetic grin I’ve ever seen. “Have your orange juice.” “If it makes you feel better, I really have to pee too.” Jean spoke down to earth, though in my aggravated state it was almost as if she was mocking me. I could see a slight twitching in her legs too, wrapped in pantyhose and small leather shoes. My legs were bare (raising my legs to put on tights would have certainly made me lose control), and they wrapped and curled in unending motion. We were five minutes away on the bus, a time I knew because we had pulled off the highway, turning the *RUMP* and *CRACKLES* failings of the suspension turned into bumps from the unkempt small-town road. Our school was located in Wyatt, a larger town of 2000, with a nice public school with a gym, and an office, and thankfully a bathroom right at the front. I pulled down on my skirt, I knew the moment the bus stopped I would have to dash for it. Almost certainly, it was going to be a struggle. I remembered fearing this moment only 30 minutes prior, struggling to make the 100 meter trek from my house to the bus stop. I had walked with my thighs nearly crossing each other, making stops for every small spurt of liquid or any painful cramp. When I finally reached the bus stop, I found myself simply bent over, putting all my weight to my sensitive pussy. “Layla…. Layla…. Layla.” “WHAT!?” I screamed at Danielle, who stood behind me watching intently, feet steady, maybe a few passes to her own full bladder. “I can see your underwear.” I paused, realizing that it would make sense. I was bent over, my tall (5’11, tall for a girl) made it harder than usual to reach down to grab, but I needed to. Carefully, I adjusted my stance, straightened my body while still holding on, my legs constantly moving back-and-forth, side-to-side. “Do you think you can make it to the school?” She asked out of concern. At the moment, I believed that it was a foregone conclusion-- at some point on the bus ride, my bind would be broken, and urine would fly out of me with force. “I have to. T..There’s no choice.” And I didn’t, 28 minutes of an endless drive to another town, and my bladder stayed pact, the pain increasing with every step. By the time we reached the school, my legs felt like spaghetti, tired and wrapped around each other. My skirt was bent and only slightly stained with slight wet marks on the back, my thigh jiggled like jello. I hopped up, placing the heavy backpack around my shoulders, and decked it. “Oh. Oh. Oh” My squeaked as I passed through heaps of students, most I didn’t know. Some people caught the eye of my situation, maybe because of my hand being forced down my skirt, or maybe because of the mortified expression on my face. But I didn’t mind the quizzical looks, my only intent was to reach the bathroom, which became a distant object with the endless swarm of students at the front desk. “Oh God!” I yelled to myself, I felt the entire weight of my bladder shift downward again. The running had caused the large basin to splash around, and now it set back down onto pressure on my urethra. I pinched with all my force, but even then some spurts were coming out. I crossed my legs, feeling a spurt of urine land in my panties and some reaching my inner thighs. This was real bad… As bad as it could be. I hadn’t peed in nearly 30 hours and had finally reached my breaking point. But I had to reach there. What if Margaret saw, and she told Brad, and he told his friends, and they told their friends. In just a few hours the “mildy hot girl from Yorksen” becomes “the girl who peed their skirt on the way to school.” It couldn’t happen, it wasn’t possible. Their had to be a way. I had to keep walking, it was the only way. Just keep walking… Just keep walking. Or running… JESUS CHRIST, RUN!!! Suddenly, I felt the gates open. It wasn’t a conscious action, one done out of pain, nor was it done out of my own volition. It simply happened, something about the running, or about how far the bathroom still was so far away. Maybe it was safety, the liquid had potential to simply burst my poor bladder. Either way, in one moment, I could feel a stream exit my body, around a crowd of people, at my school. It had been so long. Pacing in my room at 8:00 pm, feeling the fullness of my bladder and wondering if I could wait so long. Squirming in my bed till the early morning, wishing I could muster up the tiniest bit of pride just to take a fucking leak outside. Pushing down in the morning endlessly until I could feel numbness in my hands. Why didn’t I ever just pee? Go to a toilet? It could have been so easy just to feel… painless. But there was always fear, a fear of being seen, a fear of being laughed at. I had always been afraid to feel uncomfortable, and now I was in my greatest plight. At the threat of being shamed in front of the entire school, I had to push down, absorb all of the pain and reach the toilet. So I squeezed in the same way that you squeeze a running hose, spurts poured out from any weak spot, all of this getting absorbed by my cotton panties. I squirmed and nearly danced around people, some giving me an eye before turning around. Imagine the look they would give if you wet yourself, I reminded myself after every bout. Still, I pushed. I sprinted around the corner, pulling the backpack in front of my skirt so no one could see it if I wet myself, which was more of a given at this point. Even if I reached the toilet, my skirt was covered in pee. Finally, I found the toilet. The thing I had been dreaming about for nearly half-a-day. With all my remaining might, I lifted one hand from my skirt and pulled on the door. Finally, waddling to the door, I began lifting my skirt and pulling on the door handle. I even ignored the disgusting high school toilet, as I had no choice. I pulled myself down and… In my opinion, it was a top five feeling of my life. After nearly a minute, I stayed on the toilet admiring how good it felt to release everything. My hair was a mess, my forehead was covered in sweat, my panties were ruined (I’d peed through them in my haste), my skirt was no better. But I felt amazing. The pain was gone. I pulled off my panties and put-them in a never-used patch in my backpack, hoping that no was paid too much attention to what was underneath today. Even if, I didn’t care. There was just one promise from all of that-- that no matter what, I would never get that desperate again, and for the most part I did a good job at that. Sometimes desperation would happen, but it would never reach a point like it did that day. But two years later, there was one particular night... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking. “Dad?” Danielle requested the moment we walked through the door, her legs still dancing after the long walk. I slowly locked the door as she made her demands. It had been another ten minutes and I could feel my bladder slowly fill to a more urgent state. Only slightly though, it was Danielle who seemed to be on the verge of losing control, she bounced around from room to room, hopping from foot to foot. “Dad!?” She asked again, her voice bouncing in pitch, I could see her excitement, she must be truly bursting. Still, I provided no help, instead I pulled a water bottle from the fridge, the long walk gave me a partially full bladder and a thirst, and I quenched at least one (to my detriment, as I would find out). “Danielle, honey?” “I drank too much pop and Liam’s house, do you think we could go to the thing early today?” Watching the scene from the back, I could see the bounciness of Danielle’s legs only increase, a few pats on her thighs to drive home her urgent need, but all in return was a blank face. “Listen, I’m really tired. How about in thirty minutes?” “I can’t hold it thirty minutes!” Immediately Danielle responded. I believed her claim, seeing how she danced around. Dad, simply sat up, noticing that any other action could lead to a very bad situation. Danielle’s face lit up, and her dancing limited itself slightly (it must’ve been an act, to an extent). As Dad put on pants and a shirt, I watched as she smiled, rubbing her hands between her thighs. We were getting relief. And in Yorksen, relief is a limited resource. Some people wait all day for relief, sometimes we can wait days. The reason? Well… Plumbing. Yorksen was predominantly built as a pop-up on the highway, and did not feature the infrastructure you would expect for a small town. This meant that when the buildings were set up, it was impractical to feature products you can’t use. So there were no sinks, or stoves, and most importantly, no bathrooms. Eventually, our houses would receive amenities, but the buildings did not change. While there was a kitchen, all buildings were built without a bathroom-- and for a family like my own, who hardly had a funds to pay for the house at all. The cost of renovation to add one room with plumbing, with a toilet, it simply wasn’t possible. This became a universal truth to the town, a group of poor people who couldn’t afford even a bathroom in their homes. So every morning we hold our full bladders onto the bus or into our car, heading off to work, school, or whatever. We spend all day with relief until we head home, where some of us wait until the next day to get relief, but most of us have to travel to a certain place to get that much needed relief, the kind that Danielle was craving, that in secret I was needing too. It was with this relief in mind that we scurried into the car, my Dad, Danielle and I, and drove outwards. We comfortably sat, even as our bladders swelled, naively thinking it would be simple: We would get in, go the bathrooms, have a quick meal, and leave. Of course we couldn’t have expected what would happen. It was a small trip to the only toilet in town at the End of the Line Cafe. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 30 minutes later. We watched from the other side of the room. Danielle trembled, shaking and squirming with a frustrated grimace on her face. I felt the same way. All we needed was a little relief, but we had ventured into a firestorm, an endless cavalcade of desperate girls, all in a line, all losing control one by one. “Should we leave?” Dad asked, frustrated. We should’ve left, but then it would have been a repeat. Waiting all night in agony and then misery in the morning. That was for me, Danielle didn’t have a chance, she was reaching wits end right now. “I can’t hold it if we go home.” Danielle spoke, feeling stress throughout her body. “But the line is not moving….” “So what should we do?” I asked, trying to hide my own nerves from my filling bladder. “I guess we just wait.” We sat forward, continuing to watch, continuing to wait. And we waited for a very, very long time. Edited September 15, 2018 by bes31 (see edit history) randomkath, Aloe, watchinghold and 6 others 9 Quote Link to comment
bes31 247 Posted September 15, 2018 Author Share Posted September 15, 2018 Hey y'all. This chapter is a little different as I needed to set-up some world-building. I also did a lot of time-jumping in this chapter so hopefully my writing style is clear. The next chapter will continue the main narrative, but given the direction I'm taking the story, a few things needed to be explained before I could make something cohesive. Also, the format for this chapter is a little different, with a smaller font and less double spacing. I felt as if my spacing made the stories feel padded, which I didn't want, but I can change it back if you like it the old way. Just feel free to leave criticism, as I would love to hear anything. I'm going to try and keep a better schedule in the near future so don't expect a too long hiatus. Rinatro and Aloe 2 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted September 16, 2018 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted September 16, 2018 That was a excellent chapter I liked it Quote Link to comment
wolferine 94 Posted September 16, 2018 Share Posted September 16, 2018 this is one of the best stories on the site bes31 1 Quote Link to comment
randomkath 349 Posted September 16, 2018 Share Posted September 16, 2018 I knew you had great ideas when I first laid my eyes on "The Piss Tax", so maybe I shouldn't be so awe-struck. I should also swear a lot less than I do. But this is just too fucking awesome. ? bes31 1 Quote Link to comment
daniel2 171 Posted September 17, 2018 Share Posted September 17, 2018 Not a personal fan of segways but this was really good. Can't wait for the next chapter. Quote Link to comment
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