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I genuinely hope the Rule 2 is an exaggeration... using 1 paper towel during the one time the rare pee-holder leaks is not going to do shit for this world. If you want to be environmentally friendly, get toilets that flush using less water - it's more wasteful than anything that we need water to pee in.

Also, whenever I'm holding, I don't have the mental capacity to focus on anything else. And neither the will - I don't give a fuck about a society or a world that unjustly ostracizes people for this fetish.

Just my 2 cents.

Edited by Kauen-Stadt (see edit history)
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Chpt. 9 - Between Then and Later

Monday Morning. Just before 4 AM. Too late to fall asleep. Too early to start the day. The world around me is silent with peace. I, however, have had my world flipped sideways. 

I rolled over in bed again, becoming an expert in tossing and turning. My mostly naked self searching for a cool side of the bed. My bladder reminded me of its presence, as well as my neglect. I ignored it. 

My single article of clothing consisted of valuepack undies - the kind you get as an afterthought while actually shopping for something else. They come 4 for five bucks, in multicolor. Today’s choice was lime green. They were ugly, but damn, they’re comfy. 

I couldn’t see it in the dull morning light, but written across the palm of my hand, in red permanent marker was a phone number. A phone number that belonged to a girl I had met less than 48 hours ago. A girl who I though I was helping. A girl who is actually about to help me. And a girl who is one of the main reasons I find myself awake at this time, smiling like an idiot from time to time staring at my palm. 

This past Saturday, less than two days ago, I found myself struggling to answer a simple question. It was just 4 words in total, but it might as well have been the SAT.

“You’re into holding, too?” The girl asked, her momentous stream FINALLY starting to trickle off. I didn’t know what to say. I could try to lie again, but that might make her dig harder. I could tell her the truth, but that broke my rules. Big time. Not to mention being flat out embarrassing. 

Fortunately, she didn’t make me answer. She answered for me, “It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me. I know your secret, you know mine. We’re good.”

Her secret? What secret? “Your secret that you wet yourself a little?” I asked.

She looked down at her soaked jeans and undies, then said “my secret that I wet myself. On purpose.”

”What??” I couldn’t believe it. Why? What? I.... what? 

“It’s Saturday. A play day! I was trying to push some limits, test my boundaries. It got a little worse than I thought it would, but that’s why they call it experimenting. You can’t tell me you’ve never had a hold not go exactly as you had planned?” 

Remembering my casino accident not long ago, I had to agree. 

Taking a single square of my TP to clean herself, she stood up, stepped out of her wet jeans and undies, and offered the toilet to me. I paused for a moment before she answered, “Given how much water I’ve drank today, that wee that just came out of me is probably cleaner than the water that’s been sitting in the toilet. It’s not much, and I know it’s not going to save the planet, but minimal TP and not flushing on crystal clear wees make me feel like I’m doing my part. A small part, but something, nonetheless.” 

She made sense, and it fit nicely into my rules so I shrugged and took my place on my throne. I hadn’t realized it, but I was dangerously into 9/10 territory as my bladder squeezed hard as soon as I sat down. 

While I was busily reining my bladder back under control, my acquaintance washed her jeans and I presume her undies in the sink, brought them over to the second, broken stall to hang them up on a makeshift clothesline I had put in there last week, and took my spare undies and jeans. Fortunately for her, we’re just about the same size. Unfortunately for her, they’re older, unflattering undies, unlike the name brand, lace embroidered kind she was leaving behind. 

I got down to about a 6/10 and decided that was good enough given that the girl started talking to me again. “How long have you been practicing? I realized I liked holding when I was just hitting puberty. What an awkward time that was all the way around. What’s your max volume? Mine is about 1800 measured, but I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten up to a full 2 liters once when I was in public and couldn’t measure. My average is around 800. What kinds of holds are you in to?” She rapid fire asked and answered some. 

“I just kind of figured it out last month,” I sheepishly answered. “I don’t really have a max hold either”.

”YES! A new member to the community!” She cheered. “So you just haven’t measured yet?  No worries, we can take care of that...”

”No,” I cut her off. “I don’t know my volume because I don’t empty my bladder”. 

She looked completely fascinated and a little confused. “Walk me through that one? I literally just saw you desperate, and then go”

”Sure, I really needed to go, and I went, but I stop early. I have a set of rules for how badly I need to go versus when I’ll allow myself to go, and I always stop my stream early. I started holding a few weeks ago and haven’t had an empty bladder since.” I explained. 

“So you’re telling me, that right now, after you just went, you still have a little left?”

”you said you got into holding a few years ago? So you’re familiar with the 1-10 scale?” I asked.

She laughed a little. “Everybody has their own slight variations, but yes, I’m familiar and they’re all pretty much the same concept”.

”Well, I can’t go until I’m at least at a 7/10, I can only let go to no lower than a 3/10, and right now I’m sloshing around at about a 5/10.” I answered, slightly lying about my need. I was at a solid 6, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“That’s amazing!” She said. “I think we could learn a lot from each other”

“I have another friend on campus who I think you should meet. Collectively, we could really learn a lot, and have some real fun,” she continued with a slight smile that gave me both nervous and excited butterflies. 

“Who?” I asked. 

She geabbed my hand and a red marker out of my bag before writing her phone number across my palm. “My roommate leaves for the weekend on Friday at noon. Hit me up. My name’s Sarah.”

And with that, she walked out of my bathroom. Before the door shut, while she was still close, she called back, “Too many secrets too quickly make for a dull relationship,” to answer my “who” question. I guess I’d find out on Friday afternoon. 

So that’s the scene that’s been replaying in my mind, keeping me awake all night into Sunday. Mid morning on Sunday, I got my second bit of info that has contributed to keeping me awake and overthinking into this morning. 

I received an email from my practical application professor saying that on Monday morning, THIS MORNING, instead of text book and in class work, we would finally be going into the simulation lab to practice hands on skills.

Awesome! Except for the second paragraph of that email that went on to say we would be starting with none other than the bedpan... How could they expect me to practice assisting someone with a bedpan when I probably needed it worse than they did. And how does one actually go in a bedpan? Like, how does it work exactly? And how would I handle holding during all that moving around? So far I’ve really only held while in class. 

It was setting up to be an interesting week, to say the least. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chpt. 10 - Surprises 

 

“Honestly, it’s not that hard,” my new holding friend Sarah said, referring to my question about learning how to wee standing up. 

We were both sitting on her bed in her dorm room, her roommate having left for the weekend already, as anticipated. We were about a bottle of water deep each, cracking open the second while we waited for her other holding friend to arrive. 

“Walk me through it?” I asked. 

“Sure! Basically, the most important things to remember are to give a big, strong push right at the beginning to avoid the start-up dribble, and again at the end so there’s no last leaks. And it’s super important to spread yourself open as much as possible. Otherwise, it’s mostly just a lot of practice. I started in the shower, everyday with the water running for a while, then started trying with the water off so I could really see what I needed to work on, then eventually tried my toilet.” 

“That’s amazing,” I oogled. Obviously it was something I was going to have to try during my 8 AM morning wee which I was already taking in the shower. 

“We sat in silence for a moment, each taking another sip before I asked, “When’s your friend supposed to join us?”

“I think he gets out of class at 4, so probably like 10 minutes after,” she answered. 

“He...?” I asked, taken aback. 

“Yeah, his name’s Trevor.” She answered, nonchalantly. 

“Trevor...?” I asked, still stuck on the “he” factor. “You’re holding buddy is a guy?” 

“Yeah. We started out as just friends in middle school and then through a series of holding related incidents in high school, well, we became holding buddies. And now we’re here.” 

“Holding related incidents?” I asked, intrigued. 

“There was a couple of small incidents, but the big one when everything changed was in high school. It was Senior year. We’d both recently turned 18 and were getting ready for graduation. We were working on a project for school, History I think, at his house and both of us happened to decide to do a hold that day. Well, it was a long project, not just the typical couple slide presentation. I think it was for a final grade for the entire class. Super important.

Anyway, I arrived at his house already at a 6, and he apparently started the day around the same. The first two or three hours went by pretty uneventfully. We mostly just worked on the project and talked. He even snagged a pair of beers from his dad’s mini fridge for us. Shortly after, I was getting up into an 8 or 9. I really had to go. And I didn’t have the capacity back then that I do now. I was so caught up in trying not to show how bad I had to go, that I didn’t even notice the short, jerky movements coming from my partner. As we kept working, I finally lost my first dribble. That’s all it was, just a dribble. Not even enough to show through my jeans. But it was a dribble nonetheless. My first dribble in front of someone else. My first dribble in front of a boy. 

I had hoped to be able to hold it until I got back home, but that wasn’t a choice anymore. No matter how embarrassing it was, I asked him where his bathroom was.

“I, um... I, uh... I was actually just about to go myself,” He admitted. 

“Let me go first first?” I pleaded. Then added “I am your guest, after all.” In an attempt to sound more playful than desperate. 

Begrudgingly, he told me it was second door on the left in the hallway. I nodded and made as graceful a getaway as I could, leaking the tiniest amount more in the process. I made a beeline straight to the second door on the left, barely closing the door behind me. 

“So you lost a few drops, maybe had slightly wet panties for the rest of the afternoon. I just watched you purposefully almost flood yourself in public the other day. That can’t be the end of the story,” I said. “You made it and that’s it?”

“That’s not the end of the story,” Sarah answered. “I don’t know if he heard me me start and that’s what triggered it, or if he was that desperate all along, but almost as soon as my stream hit the water, there was a knock on the door. It was Trevor, of course. “Sarah? Can you hurry please?” 

“Trevor, I literally just got in here!” Wait a minute!” I called out, still in pure bliss of my relief. 

“Sarah! I... I ummm... Sarah, I’m gonna wet myself if you don’t let me in right now...” I could hear the embarrassment and desperation in his voice. I felt so bad. Even though I had leaked and was at a 9+, I probably could have held on for a few more minutes and let him go first. From the sound of things, he was at a 10, the point of no return. 

I didn’t know what he was gonna do. I was on the toilet, actively going for the immediate future. I could have maybe tried to cut my flow and let him go and then continue after. I don’t know. But I felt bad, so I answered, “come in.”

The door immediately burst open to Trevor, standing there grabbing himself with every last ounce of willpower he had left. “Sarah!” He begged. 

I thought about telling him to just go in the sink, but that’s pretty gross. I thought about telling him just to wait, but I don’t really think that was an option. I even thought briefly about telling him just to wet himself, but he had already embarrassed enough. 

“Sarah...? What did you do?” I asked both wildly intrigued and slightly scared for what kind of answer I was about to hear. 

“Well, I did the only reasonable and courteous thing I could think of in the moment that would allow me to keep going and him not to have to either do something gross, or wet himself,” She teased. “I spread my legs, and told him to go ahead.”

“SARAH!” I eeked. “That’s... I.. Sarah!” 

“What else was I supposed to do? There was no other bathroom in the house and he was quickly running out of options. What would you have done?”

I thought about it it for a few moments before conceding, “I guess that makes sense. It was quick thinking.”

“Unfortunately,” She continued, “spreading my legs made my stream both a little stronger, and a LOT louder. I hadn’t expected that so I clamped down and shoved my hand down there to stem the flow for a second. He hobbled over as best he could but I could tell he was losing this losing battle. He was already going quite forcefully by the time he got it out. A little got on my leg, but it actually wasn’t too much. He had surprisingly decent aim. And we were both lost in the bliss of relief for the first few seconds, streams crossing and creating one mighty waterfall.”

“It had been on my holding bucket list since, like day one, crossing streams with someone. I just never thought it would happen so soon or quite so urgently. After the immediate sense of inner peace resides, and our bladders were now just emptying the rest, we kind of both just stared down at what was happening. It was... I don’t know. It was weird, but exciting, but embarrassing, but amazing all at the same time. I didn’t really know what to feel. And I didn’t know how he was feeling about it.”

“We both finished, me first obviously, since I started first and didn’t have to go as badly to begin with. That was the only time during the entire time I actually felt really out of place. I mean, I was done and empty, just sitting there now while he kept going between my open legs. I kinda felt a little trapped. Fortunately he finished up pretty shortly after, so it wasn’t too bad.”

He silently walked out to go get changed, while I cleaned up myself in the bathroom. My red silk undies were a lost cause. I had dribbled a lot more than I thought I had. It’s surprising it didn’t show through my jeans.”

“I was feeling a little mischievous after our little event, so I pulled them off and left him a little parting gift, to remember that day by. Needless to say, the project didn’t get finished that day. I called goodbye to him and left while he was still hidden in his room from embarrassment.”

“Wow,” was all I could say after hearing Sarah’s story. 

“Yupp,” she answered simply. “He actually called me the next day to apologize and we talked about it for a while before we both admitted to each other we were into holding. So that’s when we officially became holding buddies.”

“Now,” She started, turning her attention back to me. “He is still a guy. And consent is everything. So while he’s my holding buddy, that doesn’t mean he has to be yours. If you’re not okay with a male being a part of this, I’ll call him right now and tell him not to come. No judgement. He’s actually usually the one bugging me about consent, so he’ll completely understand.”

I thought about it. I mean I really thought about it. Was I okay holding with a boy? I took a few minutes to truly consider it, Sarah remaining respectfully silent the entire time. And that’s when I realized, I was okay with it. Actually, I was looking foreword to it. A new chapter in my holding story. Which was good, because just then, there was a knock at the door.

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Chpt. 11 - Reservations

 

Trevor, Sarah and I now populated her dorm room as Sarah gave Trevor a welcoming hug and introduced me. 

“So?” She asked Trevor, to which he answered, “A 6, as promised.”

She then turned to me and asked, “Where are you at?” I quickly answered, “About a 7, maybe an early 8”.

“Perfect!” She gleefully said, suggesting she too had a reasonably filled bladder. “Alright you guys, the reservation’s at 5:30 so we should probably start getting ready now.”

“Trevor nodded and jumped onto Sarah’s roommate’s bed. “Ready.” He said, pulling out his phone to play on. Guys. 

“What reservation? We’re going out?” I asked, just hearing about all this for the first time. 

“Of course, silly,” Sarah answered, rolling her eyes. “You didn’t think we were just going to sit around here all night and do a whole lot of nothing. That wouldn’t be any fun! We’re going to Ronaldi’s for dinner, then the movie starts at 8:30.”

“Dinner and a movie, I feel so loved,” I joked. 

Sarah grabbed me by the hand and dragged me off to the bathroom for makeup, hair, etc. to get ready while Trevor settled in.

Sarah’s dorm, while all female currently, had once been all male some 50+ years ago and had never been renovated. That meant there was a row of urinals directly across from the 4 stalls, and a row of showers just beyond a portioning wall. Each of the urinals had been decorated with varying designs of paint and fake flowers, beads, and other random arts and crafts materials. All except for the last at the far end of the row. 

“What’s wrong with that one?” I asked, having never actually seen a male urinal in person. They kinda looked weird to be honest. 

“That’s the only one that works,” Sarah answered. “Sometimes a guy will use it if he’s staying overnight with someone here, since there’s no designated men’s room in the building.”

“And other times?” I asked, sensing more to that statement. 

“And other times, someone who’s into holding might give it a try just to see what it’s like or to test something out,” she answered, implying herself. 

She then promptly began to strip down right in front of me and head into the shower. “You coming?” She asked. 

“I um...” I started, having never been in a community shower, let alone when someone else is in there. I had purposefully paid extra my Freshman year in the dorms to be doomed in the building with private bathrooms. 

“She came back into the main room from behind the partitioned wall, grabbed my hand once again, and dragged me forward. “You wanted to learn how to wee standing up. No time like the present! And with the added bonus of a tutor!”

We had this conversation less than an hour ago, during which I had planned to practice. By myself. In my own shower. On Monday. Not this afternoon in a communal shower in front of Sarah. But she was right, it probably was better to learn directly from someone who had mastered the art. And I was at an 8. I would have to go before dinner anyway. 

I slowly stripped down, attempting to hide as much of myself as possible, receiving a soft giggle from Sarah who had been stark nude this entire time. As I pulled down my undies, the soft giggle turned into more of a out loud laugh. At first I was confused but then I realized why her volume had taken a turn upward. 

I’m a very particular person, in case you haven’t noticed by now. That means I have a very specific way I like to do pretty much everything. That includes my fur down south. 

The style depends on the season. Summer time is shaven clean. Fall is neatly trimmed, short and clean. In winter, well in winter I let my natural She-forest run wild. And then Spring is similar to Fall’s style. 

Sarah had been in my library bathroom when I was going, but while I had seen her nethers, she was washing her undies in the sink while I went. I realized right then two things - A) Although it was already Spring, I had yet to bring my unruly wilds under control, and B) Sarah had yet to see how wild they truly were. 

“No... No, no, no. She said, stifling another giggle. We’re fixing that right now.”

“I meant to already, I just haven’t gotten the chance!” I defended, but Sarah was already on it, digging her phone out of the jeans she’d just taken off and texting Trevor. Not 30 seconds later, there was a knock at the door. 

Sarah, being the free spirit that she is, flung the door wide open, exposing entirely too much skin as she grabbed a bag from Trevor and shoo’d him away again. 

“Alright, into the shower with ya. We’ve got some serious work to do,” she said to me. 

We spent the better part of the next twenty minutes trimming, shaping, and shaving until all that remained was a neatly trimmed landing strip. 

Sarah then spread her legs wide, grabbed herself with her hand and spread her lower lips wide, and proceeded to release a thin but powerful stream directly into the drain for maybe a minute before a stop as sudden as it had started. 

“You’ve now been given the instructions as well as a demonstration. You’re turn,” she said. I awkwardly took the same stance I had just seen, and spread myself open, which was a very airy but exposed feeling. 

I stood in this pose for a minute. Then another minute. Then another. I was trying. I really was. And my bladder was considerably filled, so that wasn’t the issue. “Performance anxiety,” Sarah said with a smile, turning the water on. “No worries. We’ll try again”. 

Even though I was now at a solid 8, I couldn’t bring myself to let a single drop out during my shower. It just didn’t feel right given my recent inability to go. 

We quickly did our makeup and hair, myself in undies, Sarah still nude. It wasn’t awkward until one of the other girls from the floor came in to wee. We caught her stare for a second before heading over to the stall. Her stream hitting the water made my need jump. I tried to ever so slightly cross my legs without Sarah noticing. She did, of course as I saw an equally slight smile form while she was doing her eyes in the mirror. 

A black, slim dress for myself and dark blue more ornate dress for Sarah (boldly commando), and we headed back to her room where Trevor had even gotten dressed up into a button down and slacks. 

“Alright, where’s everyone at?” Sarah asked. 

“A solid 7. Maybe a low 8,” Trevor offered. 

“A solid 8. Maybe a low 9,” I said softly to an impressed look from Trevor. 

“Good! I’m also at about a 7,” Sarah said, which surprised me given she was the only one to have let any out since Trevor arrived. 

We packed a spare set of less fancy clothes for the movies, and set off for dinner. 

3 reasonably filled bladders, and the whole night ahead of us. What could go wrong?

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  • 2 months later...

Chapter 12 - Before Dinner Entertainment

Sitting in the Parking lot of Ronaldi’s, Sarah was fixing her hair in the passenger seat mirror while Trevor played on his phone. Personally, I was distracted. My need was increasing by the minute and I wasn’t sure how I would make it to our table without getting noticed, let alone through dinner. 

Normally, I’d just take a quick sneak off to the restroom at the restaurant to let a little out. However, because of Sarah and Trevor’s rule of no bathroom, at any time, for any reason, I had to figure something else out. 

“Hey guys,” I started from the back seat. “I uh... I’m having a um...”

”You have to go,” Sarah brazenly jumped in, much to my relief (pardon the pun). “Right now, right?”

”It’s so bad,” I admitted, somewhat shamefully. I’d taken quite a bit of pride in being able to hold it ever since my casino incident when I first started. But now, as I openly held myself, it was between having another accident, or thinking quickly. 

“Trevor, take us a block down, find someplace off the beaten path,” Sarah directed Trevor as if he were our designated chauffeur.

Trevor did as he was instructed though and within about 3 minutes, we had pulled off the road onto a dirt inlet. I made to open the door so I could make a run for the nearest bush when Sarah turned around and asked “where are you going?”

”Sarah, I’m not going to... I have....” I stammered, struggling with the lock. 

“You’re trying to go outside to go? In that dress?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow to judge me. “I think not”. 

She quickly climbed into the backseat with me, her bare backside giving Trevor a momentary glimpse from under her dress, and she kneeled down on the floor directly in front of me. 

“Undies, off,” She directed. 

My hand was now up my dress, but beneath my undies, holding myself skin on skin, so sliding them down and off wasn’t much of an issue. The problem was my leaks. With no undies to absorb anything, my hand hand was dripping in a few seconds. That’s all Sarah needed though. 

She looked up at me and said “don’t flood me or this is going to be a real mess. I know how badly you have to go, but control that steam.”

I was about to ask what she meant until she put her hands on my knees, spread my legs, and placed her lips around my own lower lips, moving my hand out of the way. 

I instantly shot a solid and forceful stream straight into her mouth, half out of sheer need to go, half out of surprise. 

I was about to ask what she was doing until she swallowed my initial squirt and was ready for more. 

I barely unclenched my truly aching muscles, allowing a more manageable and constant steam to escape my bladder, straight into her mouth. 

She swallowed every second or two and otherwise seemed to be handling my release with somewhat ease. This continued on for twenty seconds, then thirty, forty five. At the minute mark, the pure bliss of relief had worn off enough to realize what was actually happening. Sarah was drinking my wee, straight from my source. No one had ever had their mouth down there on me, especially not another girl. And here we were, not only with her down there, but me going. 

I lost my concentration on my stream while this thought took over and I felt Sarah tapping quickly and forcefully on my leg. I realized I had let my urethra relax completely and she was now struggling to keep up. I pulled back hard and my stream slowed, trickled, stopped. 

“Dang girl! I said slow!” Sarah joked, leaning back, a wide smile across her face. She must’ve been enjoying this? I wondered. 

“Where are you at now?” She asked. 

“Ummm. I don’t know. Probably about a 6 or 7.” 

Perfect!” She answered, sitting up and sliding back into the passenger’s seat. “Emergency avoided, I’ve always wanted to try that, and I’ve still got enough room for dinner!”

”It’s true,” Trevor chimed in, turning the car back on and pulling out of our dirt inlet. “She tried to get me to agree to do that a while ago”. 

“Did you?” I asked, sliding my undies back on. They were fairly wet, but I was not wearing this dress without anything on. 

“We tried, but it felt too much like a, uh...” he paused for a moment. “Felt too much like an intimate act,” He finished. 

“It’s okay,” Sarah soothed in a somewhat mocking manner. “I finally got to do it. Now, we’re late for dinner, let’s go!” 

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