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Omorashi on a Plane


Guest hahanoomotho

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Guest hahanoomotho

   Bored out of her wits, Helen leans haphazardly back. She's already given up trying to read the miserable magazines offered on the flight; the military generally doesn't put too much effort towards the comfort of its squadrons. It's cramped and hot, even from her front, aisle seat, and she's directly adjacent the toilets, and can hear much more than she'd like to.

 

She absently drinks the standard-issue punch flavored beverage, and eventually manages to nod off for a few hours, with a little effort.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up, she feels two things almost immediately. One, a crick in her neck, two, a strong urge to urinate. A bulk of the other soldiers are asleep. One is presently coming down the aisle to collect trash. She quickly finishes off a water bottle before he comes, so that she can get rid of it along with the package for the punch. 

 

Helen doesn't really feel like getting up, though she knows she'll have to eventually. She lingers a bit longer, though the growing pressure starts to become uncomfortable. She gets up awkwardly between the cramped rows, and as she does, the heaviness of her bladder makes itself known. Standing up, she realizes she had to go worse than she thought she did when she was sitting down. Looking forward to relief, she enters the compact stall backwards, and starts undoing her pants. Looking closer, however, she realizes something fundamentally wrong with the toilet.

 

Namely, that it's a urinal.

 

Helen kind of looks at it for a second, as if staring any longer would change it into something that would help her predicament. She feels a pang of her need, almost in reaction to the sight. Of course. She's one of two women on this plane. Frustrated, she rebuttons her clothes over her woefully full bladder, and shuffles out of the stall, embarrassed. She sits down quickly. She feels a few eyes on her.

 

"I don't understand. How do they expect me to use that?" She vents aloud, though more so she could be the first to bring it up before someone pokes fun at her. 

 

"Same way you use a gun, right?" Ben, in the opposite aisle, offers crassly. "You just point..." he says, miming ridiculously, "... and shoot."

 

This prompts a full-on discussion from a few of the others who are still awake. She's not sure which she hates more right now, the well meaning ones who are patronizing her and telling her to cross her legs or undo her belt, or the ones who are mean-spiritedly telling her to think of rushing water, of hoses, of streams, of a full pitcher emptying its contents to the floor...

 

Helen is unpleasantly surprised to find out it's two hours and a half more on the flight. Two hours and a half of an aching bladder full of hot piss begging to be let out. She shifts a little in her seat, but there's no position in which she's not always aware of how badly she needs to go. 

 

She finds herself mentally accounting for everything she's drank. A bit of water after waking up, a cup of coffee before the early plane, the punch drink, a full bottle of water... She curses herself for not thinking before having all of them. 

 

Time passes by slowly. Helen tries to tell herself that it's not that bad, and that she's done worse before, but, to be honest, it doesn't help. One wave of slight turbulence sends a wave through her bladder. She's not going to fidget in front of everyone. She is not going to. They just quieted down about the incident earlier, and she can't do the humiliation.

 

She wishes she could switch her seat. She can hear all too clearly every time a man walks on idly through the isle into the restroom, the sound of him undoing his pants, the sound of a thick stream hissing noisily and splashing against the urinal, even a small, almostimperceptable exhale of relief as the stream subsides. The sound of him shaking off his dick before walking out in the process of redoing his clothes. She wishes it could be her right now. She feels so full. It's so unfair, that almost everybody on the plane gets the privilege of emptying out their bladders, but she has to sit here and hold it all in. If only she could turn into a guy,  just for a little bit right now, and all she'd have to do was walk in, unzip, and then... 

 

An hour or so passes of her sitting there with a full bladder. She's alternating between tapping her foot and bouncing her leg to distract herself from the growing sensation of need. All she wants is a bathroom. Would it have been so hard for them to put in a women's toilet?

 

"You doing okay?" her neighbor, Alex, says. 

 

"Yes," Helen says quickly, stopping all movement. Her bladder feels so swollen. She needs to piss like a racehorse. It feels like she has so much inside her right now. It would be so easy to let it go right now. It would probably feel sooooo good for her to stop forcing herself to hold it and it just thoroughly ease her bladder all over herself. But she can't. She can't. She's gotta hold it, she has to stop thinking about it, she can't think of all the piss rammed inside her right now, she can wait, she can let it out later, she can wait, she's an adult-

 

Alex is still looking at her.

 

"I just have to use the restroom badly." She finds the words flying out of her mouth. 

 

"Oh. Well, maybe if you fall alseep, you won't have to think about it."

 

Helen wants to sit still, but she can't help from stirring to try to keep from accidentally letting some out. "I-I can't"

 

"Why not?"

 

"Stop, I'm good, I don't have to go that badly." She retorts quickly, despite bobbing in her seat. She wants him to shut up. Stopping to talk will definitely make her let go. 

 

Almost by surprise, she becomes aware that the plane is going to land. At this point, she allows herself to move a bit more vigorously, knowing that she's really close to being able to go. The plane shakes, and one particularly rough jerk has her for a split second lose control. As it all slows down, she gets up and lines up with everyone else to get off the plane. In her head, she tries to will everyone to go faster. They're walking off the plane now. She's never needed to piss so badly in her life.

 

They're all made, much to Helen's chagrin, to line up and recieve instruction for exiting the airport almost immediately. She tries desperately to stand up, straght, still, like everyone else, but the sheer amount of pressure in her bladder makes it extremely difficult, and almost makes her teary. She's so close. Why can't they just shut up... 

 

It keeps going. And going. And it goes on a little more. She catches her eyes wandering around the open space. There, in the back... She can see it! She can see the women's restrooms, she can see people cycling in and out of it. It's right there. But she's forced to sit there and listen, like a dog. It's so hard to sit still. Without her control, she leaks a little. Somehow, it becomes even more unbearable after that. She's trying really hard to stop herself. She won't lose it when she's so close to relief, she tells herself, she's not going to piss in front of everyone. She's so close, just a little bit more... But she can't.

 

A hot stream of piss begins to spray out of her, and she can't stop it. A dark spot grows rapidly on her uniform. She falls to the floor, on her knees, legs apart, and she doesn't even notice, for a few seconds, everybody staring at her, because of how good it feels to finally let go and allieve the pressure she'd been feeling so intensely for the past few hours. Her pee feels so warm, all over her, and so comfortable and natural, but the high doesn't last long.

 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" she repeats, looking down at herself, covered in piss. She never forgives herself for letting the others see her that way.

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