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Hey all, I kind of wanted to create a premise that I could write about a series of (fictional) desperate scenarios, so I've created a rather flimsy premise that takes some inspiration from stories lik

Hey all! I actually had written this bit when I wrote part two but I want to give a heads up for those who aren't into it that there is a lot of messing in this one. And in order to compensate for the

Like last time, the first story has messing so please skip if you're not into that. In the fall of my junior year, the staff of the student newspaper got to go to a conference about student journal

12 hours ago, Keita123 said:

That was wonderful! And yeah, when you're that desperate, it's impossible to think about anything else. I've experienced it myself as well.

 

9 hours ago, Drip said:

I NEED more of this, please keep writing, I can't wait to see more. I particularly enjoy your character work. The girl who's a bit of an airhead, but has good grades cause she's doesn't give up, really speaks to me.

 

8 hours ago, Melificentfan said:

Damn that was fantastic I really loved it 

 

8 hours ago, wedgeantilles said:

I totally agree, what an awesome story!

Loved the ending how you had to help her out and got to see her naked.

 

4 hours ago, Holdit4me said:

I gotta say, that's a great story! Hopefully it's not the last adventure.

 

1 hour ago, RagingPython said:

I was really surprised at how good this was. I’m totally ~~stealing~~ using this idea someday.

Thanks for all the positive feedback, y'all! I'm definitely already writing a part 2 - the reason I wanted to set up this premise is to be able to write an (almost) unlimited amount of scenarios, so hopefully it can be there whenever I think of a scenario I want to write.

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Hey all, here's day 2!

 

On day two, I had music class and gym class, both of which were just parties, since there was no “finals” materials, then lunch. Afternoon was social studies. There were three girls that day that caught my interest. I had Rita was a curly, brown-haired skinny girl who was in my music and gym class and while we weren’t close, we had mutual friends from music and would sit at the same lunch table. With her hair, she looked rather like this lady, skinny and lanky, though she wasn’t Brazilian (obviously these ladies didn’t actually look like models, but why not pick the most attractive doppelgangers I could find!). She was wearing jean shorts and a black top, kind of like this without the denim shirt or the pantyhose (god, remember when wearing pantyhose under shorts was a thing? Also a fashion trend most of us don’t look fondly back on). Hannah was a straight-haired blonde in my music class and my social studies class. She looked just like this model and was wearing a white shirt with simple jeans like this. She kept to herself and didn’t seem to have close friends, though everyone liked her. We shared the same bus, and maybe because of that proximity I always had a little bit of a thing for her. But, I never brought it up and nothing came of it. The last girl was a redhead named Holly. She looked like the lady on the left and was wearing a denim miniskirt that day, though obviously she was wearing more on the top - a simple tee, I think. I had never talked to Holly, she was one of the queen bees and people regularly thought she was, well, (I hate to say it…) kind of a bitch to anyone outside her friend group.

Music class was a feast. There were cheese and crackers, cake, muffins, cupcakes, and someone even brought cocktail shrimp. Turns out later that the shrimp was, unsurprisingly, not good but fortunately most of us didn’t have any (since who wants seafood in first period?!). Turns out Hannah and Holly had it, but I wouldn’t put that together until our social studies final.

I spent the first period with some friends and Rita joined us, since we had some of the same friends. She hadn’t gotten anything to eat but was chugging a lemonade. “What, no food?”

Rita shrugged. “I forgot this was today and had breakfast already.”

A few minutes in, though, and she had finished her lemonade and poured herself a can of soda.

With some ulterior motive, I commented, “Damn, Rita, you keep drinking like that and you’re gonna have to pee before we can leave!”

Rita laughed. “You’re not wrong, I have such a weak bladder.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I tried not to show my hand. “What? How do you know that?”

Rita looked around. We were a circle of four, and aside from me, the others were girls, so maybe she felt comfortable since they were all girls and all her friends. “Okay, promise not to tell anyone?”

Everyone smirked at the fact she was about to tell us embarrassing stories, but nodded their heads. “Okay. I’ve peed my pants multiple times in high school.”

Everyone was like “Whaaaaat!”

Fortunately, someone asked the question I wanted to. A girl named Marge asked, “Well, tell us the deets! What happened!”

“Okay, twice, I peed my pants laughing at home. Once my dad told a joke and I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop laughing and it just, like, rushed out of me. The other time my friend Sydney was sleeping over and same thing.”

I risked a probing comment. “Well, at least that’s at home. I thought you meant you peed your pants at school.”

Rita replied, “Okay, well, never like, during class, but I actually get super nervous at track meets, and I always have to pee before I run, because no matter what a little bit comes out when the gun goes off. Once, I didn’t, and when the gun went off, I just started peeing everywhere!”

Another girl, Britney, asked, “Well, isn’t that common in track? Or is that cross country?”

Rita replied, “No, that’s cross country… the other runners knew but they all went to different schools. No one else found out because I went straight to the locker room and changed. I don’t think even people in the stands could see.”

Britney laughed. “You’ve gotten away with it every time! One day you won’t be that lucky.”

Rita laughed. “I know, right! Haven’t any of you ever peed your pants?”

Britney shook her head no. I did, too. Marge shrugged. “The last time I legit peed my pants was 3rd grade, I was at church and my mom wouldn’t let me go.”

I was a little stuck on the use of the word “legit,” but didn’t know how to ask about that without being a perv. Rita laughed. “That sucks, but it looks like I have the weakest bladder here. Oh well, I’ll risk another drink anyway!”

Rita had finished her soda and went to get a Capri-Sun. I looked at her bladder… 25%. The drinks hadn’t probably really hit her yet.

The rest of class was pretty event-free, just hanging out, and then we went to gym class. It was also a “party,” but games were set up like basketball and tennis. I wasn’t very athletic, so I just munched on some snacks. I wasn’t close to anyone in gym, so I didn’t talk to anyone. Rita was also just standing around, which surprised me, since she did track, but I guess she didn’t have any close friends in gym, either. I looked at her. 65%. Hmm. The drinks were hitting her, for it to go up that quickly, but she wasn’t desperate. Too bad, I thought. This was real life, I couldn’t get lucky two days in a row. At least I thought. I grabbed a basketball and approached her, though, more out of boredom than anything. “Hey, I’m bored, wanna play a game of horse?” I had hoped hanging out with her all morning and having the same friends made it not weird for me to ask her to play, even though I didn’t know her well. She looked up from her cup of water (oh my god, another drink?). “Sure!”

The game went pretty uneventfully. We were both pretty bad, so we mostly either picked easy shots or hard ones that neither of us made and just chatted about our mutual friends and music. Since we weren’t making much headway, it took a while before Rita missed a shot I made and got the S. I was already there, so I joked, “Ha, we’re a couple of HORS…” Rita glared at me. “Oh… sorry… not appropriate joke?”

Rita shook her head. “No, it’s not that, I just realized I really need to pee.”

I replied, “Umm… well… I wasn’t gonna say anything but you have been chugging the drinks.”

Rita laughed. “I dunno why! I’ve just been thirsty all morning! I think it’s the heat.”

I looked at her percentage… 90%. She was going up fast. “Okay, well, gym is almost over so let’s see who will win this.”

I took a free throw, an easy shot, and surprisingly made it. Rita groaned and walked over to the free throw. I looked at her percentage right as she took the shot, and to my shock, it went from 91% down to 89%. She doubled over after taking the shot, obviously missing (meaning I won the game), before saying, “Oh god, I have to pee so bad.”

“It’s okay, gym class is almost over then you can go.”

She stood back up. I didn’t notice anything, even though I was being driven crazy knowing she had spurted. “Yeah but it’s french toast for lunch! I have to get in line before they run out!”
Jesus, was this girl trying to pee her pants? “Oh, uh… well we usually sit at the same table we can go get lunch and then grab seats and I can watch your stuff if you’d like.”

Being nice and making friends outweighed being creepy, I guess. She replied, “Yeah, that sounds good. Also, don’t laugh at me, but I’m gonna drink another cup of water after all this shooting.”

After HORSE, I thought? We just stood around and shot the ball. Well, I wasn’t going to complain.

Soon after, the bell rang and we headed to the cafeteria on the other side of the class. Rita was speed walking, maybe to get in line, maybe out of desperation, and I was barely keeping up. Her percentage kept ticking up… 91%... 92%... 93%...

We got in line, which was long, Rita wasn’t wrong to worry about them running out, and she stood in front of me, bouncing her leg and alternating crossing them. She didn’t really talk to me and seemed focused on holding it. For a few seconds, she would cross her left leg over her right, then she would uncross and go the other way. It was so obvious to me she was desperate, but I guess if you weren’t looking for it, she would at most just look like she was antsy for lunch. We slowly crept forward as the line winded down and we finally made it to the hot food bar. She frantically grabbed french toast (and she wasn’t wrong, she grabbed one of the last pieces!) at the same time as me and dashed over to the syrup. I followed her and saw the percentage go from 97% to 98%... she was cutting it close. Her foot would bounce up and down and her legs were crossed whenever she stood still for anything, but I was surprised she didn’t do anything like grab her crotch the way Alex did. I guess she knew she was surrounded by people who would see.

We both finally got to the cashier’s. As she was paying, I heard a sharp inhale and saw it go from 99% to 97% before dropping down again to 95%. I glanced down to see the smallest trickle going down her left leg, a single droplet. No one would notice unless you looked for it, but I was in heaven. She stood off to the side, facing me and looking impatient, holding her tray with her legs crossed, as I paid. I intentionally fumbled around a little bit before finishing, turning to her. She was at 94%. Did she spurt again? I glanced down and saw the smallest hint of a wet spot on her jean shorts, maybe the size of a quarter on the front. I asked, “How are you doing?”

She replied, strained, “I’m not gonna make it…”

I tried to be encouraging. “You can do it! Let’s set our stuff down then you can go.”

We walked over, Rita taking smaller steps than usual, and grabbed spots next to each other at the end of a long table with benches on either side by our usual music friends. I sat down and she set her stuff down but stayed standing. She confirmed, “You’ll watch my stuff?”

I replied, trying to be a good friend, “I got you, now go!”
What she didn’t realize is that sitting, I was at crotch level and saw as the wet spot darkened and grew to the size of a dollar bill. A genuine trickle was flowing down her left leg. She speed walked away, and I saw from behind a wet spot as well, along with another trickle. I saw the numbers go down… 93%, 92%... 91%...

The bathroom, fortunately for her, was right by the cafeteria. A little bit of me had hoped for a line, but the nice person in me was glad to see she just walked right in. I couldn’t believe what I had seen and was glad I was sitting, but no one else seemed to pay any mind - everyone was just excited to be at lunch or dreading their next final. Someone shouted to get my attention. “Hey! What are you looking at!”

I shook my head. “Oh… uh… just zoned out. You know, finals week has my brain fried.”

They accepted that explanation and we got to eating and talking.

A few minutes later, Rita came back. I wondered if she had tried to dry her shorts (and her underwear, I wonder what that looked like!). If she did, she was only somewhat successful, because I noticed a darker patch on her crotch the size of a baseball. There probably was a similar one from behind, but it wasn’t super dark since the jeans were somewhat dark and she had probably dried them a little bit, and she sat down without anyone else noticing. I turned to her. “See, you made it! Now you can eat you french toast.”

She smiled wanly. “Yeah…”

She followed up. “Actually, there were a lot of girls in there. Apparently there was some bad food from the music class? People think the shrimp is to blame.”

I filed that information away to see if it would impact my social studies final. “Damn, that sucks.”

“Yeah.”

She stayed pretty quiet for the rest of lunch, and by the end of lunch when we all stood up to go, I couldn’t even really see any sign - it had all dried out. I, however, have the image burned in my memory.

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2 hours ago, herrokitty said:

Hey all, here's day 2!

 

On day two, I had music class and gym class, both of which were just parties, since there was no “finals” materials, then lunch. Afternoon was social studies. There were three girls that day that caught my interest. I had Rita was a curly, brown-haired skinny girl who was in my music and gym class and while we weren’t close, we had mutual friends from music and would sit at the same lunch table. With her hair, she looked rather like this lady, skinny and lanky, though she wasn’t Brazilian (obviously these ladies didn’t actually look like models, but why not pick the most attractive doppelgangers I could find!). She was wearing jean shorts and a black top, kind of like this without the denim shirt or the pantyhose (god, remember when wearing pantyhose under shorts was a thing? Also a fashion trend most of us don’t look fondly back on). Hannah was a straight-haired blonde in my music class and my social studies class. She looked just like this model and was wearing a white shirt with simple jeans like this. She kept to herself and didn’t seem to have close friends, though everyone liked her. We shared the same bus, and maybe because of that proximity I always had a little bit of a thing for her. But, I never brought it up and nothing came of it. The last girl was a redhead named Holly. She looked like the lady on the left and was wearing a denim miniskirt that day, though obviously she was wearing more on the top - a simple tee, I think. I had never talked to Holly, she was one of the queen bees and people regularly thought she was, well, (I hate to say it…) kind of a bitch to anyone outside her friend group.

Music class was a feast. There were cheese and crackers, cake, muffins, cupcakes, and someone even brought cocktail shrimp. Turns out later that the shrimp was, unsurprisingly, not good but fortunately most of us didn’t have any (since who wants seafood in first period?!). Turns out Hannah and Holly had it, but I wouldn’t put that together until our social studies final.

I spent the first period with some friends and Rita joined us, since we had some of the same friends. She hadn’t gotten anything to eat but was chugging a lemonade. “What, no food?”

Rita shrugged. “I forgot this was today and had breakfast already.”

A few minutes in, though, and she had finished her lemonade and poured herself a can of soda.

With some ulterior motive, I commented, “Damn, Rita, you keep drinking like that and you’re gonna have to pee before we can leave!”

Rita laughed. “You’re not wrong, I have such a weak bladder.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I tried not to show my hand. “What? How do you know that?”

Rita looked around. We were a circle of four, and aside from me, the others were girls, so maybe she felt comfortable since they were all girls and all her friends. “Okay, promise not to tell anyone?”

Everyone smirked at the fact she was about to tell us embarrassing stories, but nodded their heads. “Okay. I’ve peed my pants multiple times in high school.”

Everyone was like “Whaaaaat!”

Fortunately, someone asked the question I wanted to. A girl named Marge asked, “Well, tell us the deets! What happened!”

“Okay, twice, I peed my pants laughing at home. Once my dad told a joke and I don’t know why but I couldn’t stop laughing and it just, like, rushed out of me. The other time my friend Sydney was sleeping over and same thing.”

I risked a probing comment. “Well, at least that’s at home. I thought you meant you peed your pants at school.”

Rita replied, “Okay, well, never like, during class, but I actually get super nervous at track meets, and I always have to pee before I run, because no matter what a little bit comes out when the gun goes off. Once, I didn’t, and when the gun went off, I just started peeing everywhere!”

Another girl, Britney, asked, “Well, isn’t that common in track? Or is that cross country?”

Rita replied, “No, that’s cross country… the other runners knew but they all went to different schools. No one else found out because I went straight to the locker room and changed. I don’t think even people in the stands could see.”

Britney laughed. “You’ve gotten away with it every time! One day you won’t be that lucky.”

Rita laughed. “I know, right! Haven’t any of you ever peed your pants?”

Britney shook her head no. I did, too. Marge shrugged. “The last time I legit peed my pants was 3rd grade, I was at church and my mom wouldn’t let me go.”

I was a little stuck on the use of the word “legit,” but didn’t know how to ask about that without being a perv. Rita laughed. “That sucks, but it looks like I have the weakest bladder here. Oh well, I’ll risk another drink anyway!”

Rita had finished her soda and went to get a Capri-Sun. I looked at her bladder… 25%. The drinks hadn’t probably really hit her yet.

The rest of class was pretty event-free, just hanging out, and then we went to gym class. It was also a “party,” but games were set up like basketball and tennis. I wasn’t very athletic, so I just munched on some snacks. I wasn’t close to anyone in gym, so I didn’t talk to anyone. Rita was also just standing around, which surprised me, since she did track, but I guess she didn’t have any close friends in gym, either. I looked at her. 65%. Hmm. The drinks were hitting her, for it to go up that quickly, but she wasn’t desperate. Too bad, I thought. This was real life, I couldn’t get lucky two days in a row. At least I thought. I grabbed a basketball and approached her, though, more out of boredom than anything. “Hey, I’m bored, wanna play a game of horse?” I had hoped hanging out with her all morning and having the same friends made it not weird for me to ask her to play, even though I didn’t know her well. She looked up from her cup of water (oh my god, another drink?). “Sure!”

The game went pretty uneventfully. We were both pretty bad, so we mostly either picked easy shots or hard ones that neither of us made and just chatted about our mutual friends and music. Since we weren’t making much headway, it took a while before Rita missed a shot I made and got the S. I was already there, so I joked, “Ha, we’re a couple of HORS…” Rita glared at me. “Oh… sorry… not appropriate joke?”

Rita shook her head. “No, it’s not that, I just realized I really need to pee.”

I replied, “Umm… well… I wasn’t gonna say anything but you have been chugging the drinks.”

Rita laughed. “I dunno why! I’ve just been thirsty all morning! I think it’s the heat.”

I looked at her percentage… 90%. She was going up fast. “Okay, well, gym is almost over so let’s see who will win this.”

I took a free throw, an easy shot, and surprisingly made it. Rita groaned and walked over to the free throw. I looked at her percentage right as she took the shot, and to my shock, it went from 91% down to 89%. She doubled over after taking the shot, obviously missing (meaning I won the game), before saying, “Oh god, I have to pee so bad.”

“It’s okay, gym class is almost over then you can go.”

She stood back up. I didn’t notice anything, even though I was being driven crazy knowing she had spurted. “Yeah but it’s french toast for lunch! I have to get in line before they run out!”
Jesus, was this girl trying to pee her pants? “Oh, uh… well we usually sit at the same table we can go get lunch and then grab seats and I can watch your stuff if you’d like.”

Being nice and making friends outweighed being creepy, I guess. She replied, “Yeah, that sounds good. Also, don’t laugh at me, but I’m gonna drink another cup of water after all this shooting.”

After HORSE, I thought? We just stood around and shot the ball. Well, I wasn’t going to complain.

Soon after, the bell rang and we headed to the cafeteria on the other side of the class. Rita was speed walking, maybe to get in line, maybe out of desperation, and I was barely keeping up. Her percentage kept ticking up… 91%... 92%... 93%...

We got in line, which was long, Rita wasn’t wrong to worry about them running out, and she stood in front of me, bouncing her leg and alternating crossing them. She didn’t really talk to me and seemed focused on holding it. For a few seconds, she would cross her left leg over her right, then she would uncross and go the other way. It was so obvious to me she was desperate, but I guess if you weren’t looking for it, she would at most just look like she was antsy for lunch. We slowly crept forward as the line winded down and we finally made it to the hot food bar. She frantically grabbed french toast (and she wasn’t wrong, she grabbed one of the last pieces!) at the same time as me and dashed over to the syrup. I followed her and saw the percentage go from 97% to 98%... she was cutting it close. Her foot would bounce up and down and her legs were crossed whenever she stood still for anything, but I was surprised she didn’t do anything like grab her crotch the way Alex did. I guess she knew she was surrounded by people who would see.

We both finally got to the cashier’s. As she was paying, I heard a sharp inhale and saw it go from 99% to 97% before dropping down again to 95%. I glanced down to see the smallest trickle going down her left leg, a single droplet. No one would notice unless you looked for it, but I was in heaven. She stood off to the side, facing me and looking impatient, holding her tray with her legs crossed, as I paid. I intentionally fumbled around a little bit before finishing, turning to her. She was at 94%. Did she spurt again? I glanced down and saw the smallest hint of a wet spot on her jean shorts, maybe the size of a quarter on the front. I asked, “How are you doing?”

She replied, strained, “I’m not gonna make it…”

I tried to be encouraging. “You can do it! Let’s set our stuff down then you can go.”

We walked over, Rita taking smaller steps than usual, and grabbed spots next to each other at the end of a long table with benches on either side by our usual music friends. I sat down and she set her stuff down but stayed standing. She confirmed, “You’ll watch my stuff?”

I replied, trying to be a good friend, “I got you, now go!”
What she didn’t realize is that sitting, I was at crotch level and saw as the wet spot darkened and grew to the size of a dollar bill. A genuine trickle was flowing down her left leg. She speed walked away, and I saw from behind a wet spot as well, along with another trickle. I saw the numbers go down… 93%, 92%... 91%...

The bathroom, fortunately for her, was right by the cafeteria. A little bit of me had hoped for a line, but the nice person in me was glad to see she just walked right in. I couldn’t believe what I had seen and was glad I was sitting, but no one else seemed to pay any mind - everyone was just excited to be at lunch or dreading their next final. Someone shouted to get my attention. “Hey! What are you looking at!”

I shook my head. “Oh… uh… just zoned out. You know, finals week has my brain fried.”

They accepted that explanation and we got to eating and talking.

A few minutes later, Rita came back. I wondered if she had tried to dry her shorts (and her underwear, I wonder what that looked like!). If she did, she was only somewhat successful, because I noticed a darker patch on her crotch the size of a baseball. There probably was a similar one from behind, but it wasn’t super dark since the jeans were somewhat dark and she had probably dried them a little bit, and she sat down without anyone else noticing. I turned to her. “See, you made it! Now you can eat you french toast.”

She smiled wanly. “Yeah…”

She followed up. “Actually, there were a lot of girls in there. Apparently there was some bad food from the music class? People think the shrimp is to blame.”

I filed that information away to see if it would impact my social studies final. “Damn, that sucks.”

“Yeah.”

She stayed pretty quiet for the rest of lunch, and by the end of lunch when we all stood up to go, I couldn’t even really see any sign - it had all dried out. I, however, have the image burned in my memory.

Sounds good. Why’s it all in bold though?

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Thanks for the positive feedback, everyone! I wanted to do a couple of shorter stories/scenarios, with the first being a classic stereotypical one. So these next couple aren't going to be quite as in-depth as the others, but hopefully I'll also have a more in-depth one later. Anyway, enjoy.

 

My roommate, Jalen, as I had mentioned, was a bit of a party-goer. He was nice and we got along, but we never hung out or became close friends. I was a video game playing studious type and he was a former football player and was pledging for a fraternity. The weekend before finals week, though, he suggested I go with him to a party. I was on our futon, hand in my head, trying to force myself to write this end of the semester paper for one of my English classes (classic English class, instead of a final, it was a paper). I actually discovered I really liked writing through this class, and it would lead me to choose my future career, but right then I was at a brick wall. Jalen said, “Dude, you looked stressed.”

“Yeah, it’s this final paper that’s got me down.”

“Comon man, that can’t be due until next week. You should unwind a little.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey, I got invited to this house party nearby hosted by some friends of mine. It’s not fraternity related, you could totally come too!”

I don’t know why, since I usually would never go to a party where I only kind of knew one person, but maybe I was stir crazy and maybe I just wanted a peek into that party college life that I hadn’t seen yet, but I replied, “Actually, yeah, sure. I’m going to go crazy if I stare at this blank word document any longer.”

“Siiiiick.”

Half an hour later, we were walking over. Jalen and I were walking over and it turns out we had more to talk about than just our very different interests, but this isn’t a story about getting to know my roommate.

At the party, I thought for a second I had made a mistake. Dozens of people, lots of dancing, loud shouting, drunkenness… it was very overwhelming. Jalen dragged me in, though, and immediately got me a solo cup and filled it up with cheap beer. “Let me introduce you to a couple of my friends.”

A couple beers later, a few intros later, a game of beer pong later, and I was getting along fine. In fact, my beer pong partner was rather fine herself. Her name was Rana and she was a sophomore. She was quite inebriated, swaying as she took her shots. She looked like this model and was wearing a similar outfit, though her skirt was much shorter and stopped above the knees. She missed every shot, but fortunately a combination of being somewhat more sober than the other team and beginner’s luck meant that I won the game. Rana cheered when we won. “You did it! You carried us, I was no help at all.”

We high fived. I thought about getting another beer and looked at her… and her bladder was at 85%. “I’m gonna get another beer. Want me to pour you a victory beer?”

She cheered again (man, drunk girls are loud) and we headed over to the keg. As I poured her beer, she walked in place and then crossed her legs as I handed it to her. “You good?” I asked, knowing full well what was up.

“I have to peeeeee,” she said, elongating the last word.

“I’ll walk you to the bathroom so I can hold your beer if you want.”
“No! This is our victory beer! We are chugging it!”

“Wait… what?”

She pushed my beer to my face and we chugged our beers. She was the expert on drinking, and she easily finished hers before mine and… yes… shouted “Woo” at my face.

“Alright, where’s this bathroom?”

“I think it’s upstairs, here let me lead you there.”

“Good, because I CANNOT walk straight right now.”

“Yeah, I can see that…”

She stumbled forward before putting her arm around me and I led her towards the stairwell. At the bottom, she even stopped me to cross her legs and bend over. I pretended to be an encouraging friend and not a perv enjoying the situation. “Comon, almost there”

We went up the stairs slowly, Rana taking one step at a time. When we got there, though, she was greeted with a line. A guy and two girls were waiting. I, of course, was fascinated and checked… both girls were in the 70s, though, nowhere near an accident, though they both fidgeted as they chatted with the guy.

Rana groaned. “I can’t wait that long!”

“Uhh… I don’t think there’s a bathroom downstairs but wanna check?”

“Just take me to the back yard.”

“Uh… what? Okay.”

I think I knew what she was thinking… but was I going to be able to witness it?

We gingerly walked down (even slower, as I didn’t want her falling down the stairs!) the stairs. I looked at her and saw she was now at 95%. The alcohol goes through the body quickly!

I half-carried her through the house and out the back door, where fortunately for her no one was outside. I looked at her. 94%. What?

She turned to me and let go. “Uh… I’m already peeing.”

“What?!”

She stepped back from me and pulled up her skirt and I was greeted with a white thong with a small dark patch. It then grew and a stream began to fall. She spread her legs slightly so it fell straight through. I watched, mesmerized, as she peed for about 45 seconds in front of me. She wasn’t even technically totally “full,” but I guess the drunkenness affected her holding ability. I gawked, totally turned on. I sheepishly held my cup in front of my crotch but she was so drunk I don’t think she either saw or cared. When she finished, she pulled down her skirt and giggled. “Our secret!”

She headed back into the party and when I calmed down I followed suit. I kept my eye on her and she spent the rest of the night the same bubbly drunk girl, but I knew she was also sporting wet underwear.

I unfortunately didn’t see anything else remotely close to that, but at least I saw the cliche drunk college experience my first night out. I actually later met Rana sober and she greeted me by saying, “Hey, you’re the guy that watched me pee!” which was both funny and embarrassing for both of us, but it turned out when not drunk, she’s quite the accomplished student and we became friends. I didn’t see anything like that again from her, though, and I never dared bring it up again.

That night when we went back to our room, Jalen asked, “So. Did you have a good time?”

I grinned. He must have been thinking about the booze and the drinking games. I, however, was thinking of the image of Rana peeing. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for bringing me.”

 

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More interesting character interactions, awesome lines ("Hey you're the guy that watched me pee") and a masterfully woven plot, love how you used the party loving roommate to Kick-start the main plot.

 

And I don't remember if I ever mentioned it before, but I really appreciate you linking the characters in your stories to actual models, it makes them way easier to visualize the story in my head, and really improves the overall reading experience. With other stories I usually have to stop and think for a minute or so to visualize the character from just a worded description, but with your method I just open a quick link and I'm back into the story.

 

Can't wait to read more, if you can't tell by now, I really, really, really love your story!!!

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On 5/5/2019 at 3:52 AM, herrokitty said:

Hey all! I actually had written this bit when I wrote part two but I want to give a heads up for those who aren't into it that there is a lot of messing in this one. And in order to compensate for the fact I know a lot of you aren't into that, I waited until I had another scenario written up with no messing and only wetting that you can skip to. I tried to post this as two separate posts but it always combines the two, so I'll bold when this part is over and you're safely in the next one.


Hannah and Holly were in my social studies final. I had wondered if they both had the shrimp in my music “final” and used my vision. Hannah… 50% bladder capacity, 70% bowel capacity. That was definitely unusual, maybe she had it and it was filling up faster than expected. Holly… 60% bladder capacity and 75% bowel capacity. I was surprised she didn’t go to the bathroom at least to pee… 60% is when I start seeing girls go, especially before a long final. Maybe one or both weren’t comfortable pooping at school. I guess Holly, with her reputation as a real “mean girl”, didn’t want to be seen stinking up a bathroom.

I was in the back of the room and Hannah sat in front of me while Holly sat to my right. Holly was wearing a denim miniskirt and the chair was one of those “connected desk” chairs where the arm of the desk blocked one side, so she sat down facing me and then swung herself around to face the front. When she did, my horny self (I couldn’t help it after lunch!) peeked and saw a glimpse of red underwear. Pushing aside my pervy thoughts, I got started on the final.

The first half of the final was without event. The final was all essays, so I stopped to take a second and rest my hand, which was cramping. I casually glanced up and saw Hannah at 65% and 85%. I didn’t see any outward sign of desperation, though. I stole a glance to my right and saw Holly cross-legged and a bit hunched over. I couldn’t tell if that was because of her concentration or her stomach, but I could see she was at 75% and 90%. That was starting to get dangerously high, and it got high pretty fast - it must have been from the morning food. She must have been uncomfortable, but part of me really liked the thought that this stuck up rude hot chick was desperate to poop. She was the kind of person who acted like “her shit don’t stink” as some might say, and I was just a little bit hoping to find proof that was not true. I know, I know - it’s so mean of me. In my defense, she truly was a mean girl. I mean, plenty of popular kids were nice people who just had the “in” with the other popular kids (aka the rich ones), but Holly reveled in her status. In 9th grade, she actually made fun of a guy who wet himself in gym class (I mean, we all did, we were teens and not mature people at all, but she was particularly mean) and would only refer to him as PPP for Pee Pants Phil since, so there was some karmic justice going on. She also had an ugly tendency to laugh at non-popular kids who would talk to her, whether it be a misguided attempt to ask her out or just simply being paired with her as lab partners in science. She didn’t take the bus and drove a BMW to school. Like, she’s a secondary antagonist in a comic book or something. I really hope she grew up and matured, but probably fortunately I never saw her after high school.

Okay, that’s totally off the point. The point was, not just for my own perverse interests, I liked the fact that I knew she was struggling with the most embarrassing thing she could be dealing with for someone like her. And now I had spent five minutes not working on my exam but daydreaming about karmic justice. I quickly went back to my essay.

Fifteen minutes later, I heard something from my right I never thought I would hear. It was a loud fart. Like, I jumped a little because it was so loud. Just a loud, short, quick to the point blatant fart. It wasn’t wet or long or whistle-y, like it was a surprise and immediately cut off. Everyone started to giggle and the teacher had to hush us all and acted like nothing happened. We were in the back, so no one could really pinpoint where it was from… but I knew. I looked right and saw Holly, legs tightly crossed, hunched over, writing furiously and acting like nothing happened but her ears were as bright red as her hair. 95% bowel capacity… we had a ways to go, Holly. It’s not looking good for you.

I was fortunately wrapping up. Another ten minutes and I set down my pencil, shaking out my hand. At this point, it was a ritual. Look up - Hannah at 75% and 90%. In fact, I saw the first signs of desperation as she crossed her leg and subtly rocked her butt to the left, lifting her right cheek. I didn’t hear anything, but I’m pretty sure I knew what happened.

The next step was to look right. Holly was still writing furiously and her legs were tightly crossed while bouncing furiously up and down. If she kept this up, her skirt would ride up. 85% and 98%... it wasn’t looking good for her. In fact, she tried to pull the same move as Hannah, but what came out was a high-pitched whistle that lasted a couple seconds. The class laughed again, but the teacher was quick to silence everyone. Most were still knee-deep in their essays, so everyone got back to business. Between the two farts, I could smell just the faintest smell, but I didn’t know which responsible party I was smelling. Holly stopped to look around anxiously and I quickly pretended to be looking over my essay. She bought the gambit and assumed no one was looking at her. I side-eyed her and was amazed to see her subtly lifting up her denim skirt. Red full-cut panties were on full display. I realized why - she stuck her left hand directly in her crotch. This was like Alex all over again. Her desperate bowels and bladder must have been affecting each other; I wouldn’t have thought 86% was worth it, but maybe lessening the pee desperation made it easier to hold your poop. I didn’t know, I was fortunate not to have been in her situation. I almost started to feel bad for her, then I remembered Pee Pants Phil.

Was Holly going to make the same call as Alex? First of all, pooping yourself is objectively more embarrassing. Second, Holly was probably smarter than Alex, but certainly less studious and more obsessed with her reputation. Then again, we weren’t allowed to leave the final early, but what would they do if she ran out, fail her? Hold her back a grade? That would be absurd. I guess everyone would likely deduce she had farted, but that’s less embarrassing than messing yourself. This was probably the exact same train of thought she was having.

That was when I heard the type of fart that would scare you if you had it. The wet one. The one that makes you go, “Did I just… shit myself?” Admit it, some of us have done it. I have. Many heavy drinkers have too, I bet. Well, the nice thing about my power is I can confirm. Holly’s number went from 98% to 96%. She was frozen still, hand in crotch. The next thing I saw was crazy. Her bladder went from 87% to 84%. She must have leaked in sympathy with her bowels, or maybe in surprise at herself. People started laughing again, and somebody broke the rules and said out loud, “Man, who’s out here messing themselves?”

The teacher came down hard on him and took his final (which was probably close to done, anyway) and made him leave the class. That shut everyone else up, but Holly was in a serious conundrum. At this point, we had around 15 minutes left. If she left early, everyone would know why. I did not envy her. I wonder how Hannah felt, knowing someone was doing worse than her. Other than a silent fart, jiggling and tightly crossed legs, you would never know Hannah was in the same boat.

Holly eventually finally put down the pencil. She clearly could not deal with the idea that people would know it was her… because she stayed seated. She pulled her hand out of her crotch (and it was glistening!) and gripped each side of the chair, grinding her butt down. She was back up to 98% and 87%. The minutes ticked by. 99% and 90%. Five minutes left and it was at 100% and 95%. Her poop desperation must have been jacking up her piss desperation. She was at her limit. If it was a solid load, she would probably be turtleheading. But, unfortunately for her, it was not a solid load.

What happened next was so incongruous to what Holly looked like, this uppity rich preppy girl. I heard a strange groan come from inside of her and suddenly just the wettest sounding squelch. It actually wasn’t too loud, so maybe no one but me really noticed, but her face was of sheer panic. 100% dropped to 99%, but there was no stopping it now. Instinct took over and she lifted her butt slightly off the chair and I watched in fascination as everything just evacuated out of her. It was the worst possible shit she could take in public. It was wet-sounding, there were farts, it was clearly soft and maybe a bit liquidy, you know, food poisoning shits. I saw her red panties grow in chunks and could even see the brown discoloration. Unsurprisingly, she began peeing freely, as well, which collected on her seat and began trickling down to the ground. In the silence of the final, it was so loud and obvious. Her face was buried in her hands as it went on for probably only 15 seconds of pooping, but it felt like eternity. At this point, there was no way for the teacher to shush the students, and everyone looked around and could clearly see Holly, skirt up, red panties wet (from the front) with a puddle everywhere, the sounds clearly coming out of her body. The peeing went on as she just… let it all out. It probably went on for 45 seconds or a minute. The food poisoning liquid shit was done, but to my surprise, I heard a soft crackling as the rest of her poop slowly came out, enlarging the bulge from the size of a clementine to the size of an orange. She didn’t move the whole time, and the whole class just stared at her. The teacher was staring at her in shock. The rudest student, the preppiest girl, the rich girl… she was as gross as all of us. Probably grosser at this moment. When she was finished, I looked at the numbers. 0% bladder… 30% bowels. She probably hadn’t let everything out, understandably. She also was lifting her ass over a giant yellow (and a little bit brown) puddle with a wet bulge. Everyone was dead silent in surprise.

Holly made the first move and slowly inched herself out of the chair, an awkward movement when you can’t sit your butt down. She stood up and pulled her skirt down, covering herself. Funnily enough, the thick denim meant the bulge wasn’t really visible (when she walked, you could kind of tell it got caught on something) and didn’t immediately get wet, since it wasn’t really getting pressed into her very wet panties. She took her final and handed it silently to the teacher before walking stiffly out the classroom, still silent in shock.

The moment she left, someone pulled out their phone and began furiously texting. The teacher shouted, “Hey! No phones!”
“I’m sorry, I just have to text Phil!!!”

Everyone started laughing and then even the teacher couldn’t silence us. Fortunately, the bell rang shortly after so we all left, chattering excitedly about what happened to the girl no one could attack until now but about half of us really didn’t like.

I looked at Hannah, finally, having been distracted for the past few minutes. She was at 85% and 97%. It was desperate, definitely, but she could easily go to the bathroom across the hall and make it. I was a little disappointed, but how could I complain after these past two days?

Hannah grabbed her things and hurriedly walked out the door. I didn’t even bother following, knowing she would be headed straight to the bathroom. I grabbed my things, said bye to a few friends, and then headed to the bus to go home.

I was one of the last people on board the bus and I scanned around for seats. I wasn’t very close to most of the people on my bus, so I didn’t exactly feel comfortable sitting right next to some of these kids. All of the seats had at least one person on them… then I saw someone in the back. Hannah. I had talked to her a few times, ridden by her before, and I always had a bit of a thing for her, so I decided that was my best bet. I walked over and motioned to the seat next to her. “Hey. All the seats are taken, mind if I sit here?”

She stiffened for a second but then nodded. Did I do something wrong? Was she repulsed by me? I was a perverse teenage dude, so that’s fair if so. But, I realized, the answer was obvious. I looked at her numbers… 90% and 98%. What. The. Hell. She didn’t even use a bathroom before getting on the bus. Was she afraid of missing it? Was she the kind of girl that never used school bathrooms?

And now I was sitting RIGHT next to her. I could not believe my luck. I tried to act normal, like I didn’t know what was going on. “How was that exam? I thought my hand was going to fall off writing that much.”

Hannah was hunched over with her legs tightly crossed. “Yeah… It was rough…”

She was clearly not in the mood to be a big talker. In fact, I could hear her stomach gurgling. Fortunately for her, though, the bus roared to life and took off. It was a rear engine bus, so it drowned out any stomach noises. In fact, being in the back, I had to shout to be heard. “I forgot how loud the back of the bus is!”

Hannah just nodded. I couldn’t tell if that was because of how inane my comment was or her own situation. We rode a few minutes in silence before I suddenly smelled… a fart? Shit? I looked over. Hannah was still a little hunched over with her legs crossed, but her bowels were at… 90%. Wow. She must have lost control, but I heard nothing with the engine directly behind us. I couldn’t believe she was just sitting there, acting like nothing was wrong, but I guess what could she do?

It smelled pretty rancid, given that it was likely the not-so-solid food poisoning type, but I liked Hannah and certainly was enjoying the situation, so I acted like I didn’t notice anything.

A couple minutes later, though, someone else a couple seats up commented. “Damn, it smells like ass, who farted?”

Fortunately, no one looked to the back row and the students further up all began heatedly arguing amongst themselves. I turned to Hannah and joked, “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

She smiled weakly and shouted over the engine noise, “Don’t worry, I believe you.”

She then winced and her hand moved rapidly from her side to by her crotch, though she stopped herself from holding herself. I feigned ignorance. “Are you okay?”

She looked up, a face of despair. “I… uhh…”

She leaned in so she wouldn’t have to yell. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It was clear that was what she was going to tell me, but I didn’t exactly have a response planned. I tried to look comforting. I leaned in so I wouldn’t have to shout, either. I couldn’t believe I was this close to a sort of crush of mine as they were having an accident. “Hey, no judgement from me. Nothing that happens to you could be worse than what happened to Holly…”

I thought that might cheer her up, but it seemed to have induced a slight panic. I glanced down and saw a small wet spot form on her crotch before she immediately covered it with her hand. “Don’t remind me of her! I mean, she’s kinda mean, so I don’t think anyone is gonna feel too bad for her, but that sucks no matter who you are!”

I felt a little bad about my earlier vindictiveness, hearing Hannah’s reasonableness. “You’re right. But I’m just saying. Don’t you live out in the boonies? You’re the last stop! You could literally have an accident and no one would notice.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “It also means I have to wait the longest… I don’t want to have an accident either way!”

I nodded. “Yeah, I hear that. Well, just know that I won’t judge if you do have an accident.”

Hannah rolled her eyes again, but her facial expression softened just a little bit. “Small comfort.”

We rode on in silence for a couple more minutes while I stole glances at her. Her bladder percentage went down a couple times, and I looked down to see the wet spot had grown to be larger than her hand could cover. As I looked, it darkened and grew again, going a couple inches down her thighs and wider than an orange. She was rocking slightly with her eyes closed, concentrating on breathing normally, so she didn’t notice me staring. I was getting rather uncomfortable myself, and I placed my backpack over my crotch.

She opened her eyes so I hurriedly looked away, but I side-eyed and saw her bladder was at 85% now and her bowels were inching back up to around 92%. We still had a few more minutes before my stop, though, and she had a whole half an hour. That and the exhaustion from holding it on both ends must have had her at her limit, though, because I saw her subtly lean over to her left buttcheek, lifting her right one in the air and unintentionally putting her face near mine. She was staring straight ahead, though, so I glanced over and realized what she was doing - letting it out! Her bowels slowly inched down, 91%, 90%, 89%... then suddenly dropped to 70%. I couldn’t even imagine… a turd curling up in her tight jeans. Would a bulge show? She must have gone for broke, though, because it dropped again. 69%, 68%... 40%. She slowly, gingerly lowered herself back to a normal seating position. Her facial expression was one of disgust, probably feeling her poop flatten and spread. I could definitely smell it. This didn’t smell as rancid - it smelled like a solid, regular load.

I could not believe this attractive girl shit herself while sitting right next to me. It drove me crazy. Thank god my backpack was on my lap. If I could have seen her butt, I would have probably made a mess in my own pants. As it was, my fantasizing was on a whole other level at this point. I pretended nothing was amiss, though, and turned to look at her. “How are you holding up?”

She jumped a little, clearly lost in concentration from before, and her ears and cheeks burned bright red. “Oh… ummm… Okay.”

I leaned in to talk quieter. “You gonna make it? You can stop at my house. I don’t drive to school but I know how to drive, I could drive you home after.”

Hannah groaned. She whispered, “Where was that offer ten minutes ago?”

“Wait… what?”

“Oh. I mean. Um… I would have tried harder to hold it. I… uh… leaked.”

So… she wasn’t going to admit to messing herself. I didn’t blame her. She didn’t know me that well. She was a pretty reserved person. Getting her to admit that much was… maybe unintentionally manipulative of me, but it wasn’t my logical brain making the decisions. She removed her hand and I looked down. “Oh… ooohh. I mean… well… don’t hurt yourself. Just let it out. No one will notice.”

She shook her head. “I thought about it… but… I can’t. I really can’t. I can’t just give up completely.”

“Well, you definitely are not gonna make it if you’re already leaking. Want to stop at my place? I can give you a pair of my pants and you can do the laundry.”

This was way too much friendliness from someone who isn’t a real friend, but I couldn’t pass up to try to get her to come over.

“Umm… that’s okay. I appreciate it.”

I mentally sighed. Turns out real life isn’t a porno, people don’t just come over to your house if you’re nice to them. Probably for the best. I was thinking like a perv, not like a normal human.

“Okay, suit yourself. Next stop is mine. Your secret is safe with me.”

That last sentence seemed to provide some comfort. I got up, awkwardly holding my backpack in front of me and pretended that was normal as I walked off the bus. I have no idea what happened to her after that, and last I heard she was working in a totally different part of the country, but I couldn’t help but imagine her having an accident in the back now that she was alone. She would get away with it from other students, but that bus driver would know… I would spend many a night remembering that finals week.

Here's the next part, only wetting, so you're safe here if the section before isn't your thing!

Freshman year of college was mostly a year of adjustments. I got along with my dorm-mates, I went to my classes and worked hard on them, but I didn’t get deep into the social life or make really close friends for most of it. In fact, I was feeling pretty lonely for most of the first semester as I had fallen out of touch with my music friends from high school. I still had some guy friends I played video games with, but I wasn’t making any new ones. My roommate, a nice but somewhat bro-y guy was always out partying, so I had the dorm room to myself a lot.

First semester, I had this misguided idea that I should try to continue music, so I had auditioned for a character role in a musical. Turns out there are very few guy singers, even in a college with a music department, so I got a background role in the fall production of Les Miserables. I had hoped doing something as big as a musical would lead to making friends, but most of the people involved were music majors and already a clique and I hadn’t picked a major yet and certainly wasn’t interested in music as a career. They were all nice, but in the down time I mostly sat by myself with my thoughts.

It wasn’t a total waste - it was very cool to see a production with a whole orchestra, actors/singers, stage hands, etc. come together and be a small part of it, and it gave me something to do besides classes and video games, but for the sake of these stories… there was only one moment that really stood out. And boy did it.

Musicals are rough. Les Miserables is over three hours long in musical form. We had four hour rehearsals twice a week. The orchestra had separate four hour researsals twice a week and a month out we combined. There was, of course, an intermission but often it was full of frantic dress changes and stage changes and setup. I’m frankly shocked I didn’t see more desperation. Oh, certainly, I saw some stagehands in the 75%-85% range by the end of the musical, and I saw some orchestra players go home in that range, too, but that was really the stage where you tell your friends “I’m gonna piss myself if I don’t find a bathroom now” but it’s funny because you aren’t really quite at risk yet of pissing yourself yet. Besides, the orchestra players were in “the pit,” so I couldn’t even see them when we rehearsed the full thing.

The actors and actresses seemed even lower, usually, probably because they plan their bathroom breaks around the musical. The ones that could used intermission and the ones that couldn’t made sure they weren’t drinking too much water and were empty right before it began. No one wants to run around stage dancing and belt out the loudest singing they could with a full bladder. Plus, not every performer had to be in every scene. Really, statistically, the crew and the orchestra were the ones stuck not visiting the bathroom for three hours. And yet, didn’t see any real desperation out of them, aside from the occasional foot tap or crossed leg.

That’s why I was so surprised during our final performance to see Lina rush in to pre-performance rehearsal at 70% capacity for her bladder. I had talked to Lina a few times during rehearsal. She was very nice and quite attractive, too, looking like Broadway performer Laura Osnes but a bit more muscular and bigger (especially in the legs!) because she was a dance major, like this lady. She played Fantine, a really important role but one that only needed to be on stage for the first few scenes (Anne Hathaway played her in the movie, for all you movie-goers). Fantine was a tough role, but Lina was a good cast. She was extremely studious - I once, in making small talk, brought up how calculus was kicking my ass only for her to talk me through what we were going over so she could give advice because she had taken college calculus her junior year. She also used to play an instrument and, like me, wasn’t even a music major - she was a dance major. She was just doing this as an extracurricular and was so good she beat out the actual music majors to one of the critical roles. She took it very seriously but was so nice the often catty music majors didn’t even begrudge her the role.

A small detail about Fantine that made the role a pain in the ass was the costume changes. She has back to back to back costume changes - first, as a factory worker, in a blue dress like the left, second her street walker outfit, like this, and third, a simple white nightgown like this. She had the fastest costume changes, and as such, her costumes were literally just left hanging stage left and she would exit one scene, rip off her dress, and throw on the new one. In an almost-professional production like this, no one batted an eye at seeing someone in their underwear off-stage between performances, but I couldn’t help but check out her athletic and muscular dancer body. She always wore a very plain tan full cut panties and tan bra for the performances, probably so it would be generally invisible. I was in the ensemble, so I was in her first scene and her third scene, but not the second or last. I would spend the second scene, like many of the ensemble, milling around off-stage, and that meant I was right by her as she changed between scenes two and three.

Pre-performance rehearsal was just going over some trouble spots and it took about an hour before we had to get ready. I kept an eye on Lina, who slowly went from 70% to 85%. She didn’t go to the green room, where the bathroom was, though. She waited on stage left for the prologue. I guess she had to be in the first scene after the prologue, so she didn’t want to be delayed, though personally I thought she would have plenty of time. I had to go on stage, so I lost track of her, but when it was her time to come out on stage, I saw she was up to 90%. I was fortunate all I had to do was stand in the back and look tough (I was a foreman or something in that scene), because I was so distracted. Imagine having to pee badly in front of an audience of hundreds. Imagine the spotlight on you. And yet… she didn’t look distracted in her role at all. She was a factory worker. She wa bullied by the other workers and fired. She encapsulated that fear, the anxiety, and she sung her heart out. You would never even know… except when she was pushed off by a foreman as she was fired, I saw it. It went from 91% back to 90%. The smallest of leaks. She then had to sing her solo. “I Dreamed a Dream.” A heart wrenching, sad, beautiful, belting solo. You would not even know if I hadn’t seen with my powers what had happened. It was amazing. I was standing right off stage and watching, entranced. It went from 90%... to 91%... to 92%... and she kept singing. I was the only person who caught her desperation, and it was because I was watching so intently. At the last long note… (this moment, and you should watch Les Miserables if you haven’t… actually you shouldn’t you’ll have a girlfriend who will make you watch it and you’ll spend the whole time thinking this is overrated while she cries her eyes out), she cut off the word seem just ever so slightly early. And I saw why. The exertion dropped her from 93% to 92%.

No one noticed. She got a standing ovation. She rushed off stage and I subtly positioned myself to be right where she changed. She ripped off her workers’ dress over her head and I saw her tan underwear from the back. Not a sign of a leak. But she bent over to pick up her next dress and I saw… right at the crotch, a dark spot. No one who wasn’t looking would have noticed. But I knew.

I had to go on stage for the next scene, too, so I quickly put the thought out of my mind before I would have the most embarrassing scene in the musical and we went forward with the next scene. Poor Lina had to be pushed around so much in this scene, running around the stage. I could see… It would go up to 95%, then 94%. Then 95%. 96%. 95%. She was letting out the smallest of leaks, often when being pushed, having to run, singing a high note. I had to imagine her underwear was soaked at this point. Maybe a couple droplets on the stage. But she kept going admirably.

We headed off stage and I didn’t have to go back on for several scenes, but I stood right by where Lina would change for her final scene before the ending. I acted like I was there to watch the next scene, but really, I was watching Lina as she ran off stage. She ripped off her dress, and this time I saw the wet spot clearly as it climbed somewhat up her butt. I could see a couple trails along her muscular legs before she threw on her final outfit, a white nightgown. The crew wheeled out a bed for her final scene and she threw herself in before the lights came back on, covering herself in a blanket. How lucky, I thought. She could cover her lower half. Would she have to take advantage?

I watched as the scene went on. The number kept going up, not down. 96%. 97%. 98%. Not a sign from her about her desperation. Perfectly acted, perfectly sang. A sad, sad song leading up to her death. Oh. Uh. Spoilers.

I knew exactly where she would be when she got out. I feel bad looking back, but I was on a mission and was using my powers for my own benefit. I headed to the green room and pretended to look around for my phone. Everyone else was backstage, waiting for their various scenes, but I didn’t have one for probably half an hour.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Lina came in, finally showing a sign of desperation. I looked up. She froze, surprised to see me, and threw one leg around the other and stood there. Her hands were holding the bottom of her nightgown and she was halfway done pulling them up so I could see the bottom of her underwear, which had a large and obvious wet spot. I stood up and acted like nothing was normal. “Lina! You did so well!”

She opened her mouth to reply but I saw the number hit 100% and then plummet. I looked down and saw as she stood, frozen, peeing in full force in front of me, trickles turning into rivers down her crossed legs, a puddle growing and growing. It had to have gone on for a minute and a half. Her bladder must be huge. I was in awe. We both just stood there in silence. I had to act normal! I had to not show that this was the best thing I had seen all freshman year! “Oh… I’m so sorry... “

She sighed, resigned. She said, “Ugh, don’t worry, it was bound to happen. I had to pee since before rehearsal.”

She pulled off her nightgown. I was happy about this, but I said, “Oh, uh... do you want some privacy?”

She replied, ever the professional, “I just can’t get that wet, I need to wear it in the last scene. Could you actually do me a huge favor and make sure I didn’t get anything on there? I know that’s super gross but… I need to take this off and dry myself off.”

I was secretly very happy to do this and agreed. The dress, however, was completely dry and none of her leaks got to it. She knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, could I get that back? I’ve dried myself off and don’t wanna step out with everything just hanging out, ya know.”

A sight I would have loved to see, but I gave her the dress through the cracked door without sneaking a peek. I then grabbed some paper towels from the green room’s sink area and crouched down to clean up Lina’s puddle. It was acrid and very yellow and… well… I was enjoying myself, to be honest.

Lina stepped out. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m sorry, it’s super gross and my fault I can clean it.”

“Please, Lina, you’re the star, I got this. We’re professionals! Sort of.”

She laughed. “Thanks, dude. I appreciate it.”

I had to ask. “So… uh… if I may ask, why didn’t you go before the rehearsal?”

She shook her head. “Ugh. I’m so stupid. I had class this morning and I should have skipped it but I didn’t and the professor went long so I had to run straight to make-up and costume. The make-up took forever and by the time it was done I had to run here.”

I threw away the paper towels and nodded in sympathy. “That sucks. Well, you killed it and no one but me knows. It’s actually more impressive how good you were given the situation.”

She smiled. “Thanks. That makes me feel a little better.”

We went our separate ways after that. We never became friends who hung out, but any time we saw each other on campus ever since we would stop and say hi and catch up for a couple minutes. I always enjoyed her company, and she seemed perpetually grateful for my help and my zipped lips. She went on to become a broadway dancer. I wonder if she ever had other accidents or close calls as a professional… I felt a little guilty she was grateful for something I had sort of taken advantage of, but… well… all’s well that ends well. Oh wait, that’s Shakespeare.

SPOILERS! WHAT THE HELL, MAN!?

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