Aloe 580 Posted May 11, 2019 Share Posted May 11, 2019 Why we gotta quote the whole damn story 😂 KnightofStars, Exodiuss, facade and 2 others 5 Quote Link to comment
Xx4evRockerxX 702 Posted May 12, 2019 Share Posted May 12, 2019 Woah! Good writing. Great stories. Keep up the fantastic work! Quote Link to comment
RagingPython 241 Posted May 12, 2019 Share Posted May 12, 2019 On 5/11/2019 at 4:25 AM, RagingPython said: SPOILERS! WHAT THE HELL, MAN!? I literally just realised it didn’t actually delete all the text in the quote I tried to delete. Whoops. It was supposed to just be the text about the musical’s ending, which was claimed to be a spoiler in the story. I can’t delete the post though, maybe a moderator can for me or something. 19 hours ago, Alex Oxford said: Why we gotta quote the whole damn story 😂 I didn’t mean too man, I tried to delete it, and I didn’t realise it didn’t actually delete. Quote Link to comment
Aloe 580 Posted May 12, 2019 Share Posted May 12, 2019 3 hours ago, RagingPython said: I didn’t mean too man, I tried to delete it, and I didn’t realise it didn’t actually delete. Ahaha I’m just giving you a hard time dude. I’ve done the same thing a number of times! Quote Link to comment
RagingPython 241 Posted May 12, 2019 Share Posted May 12, 2019 3 hours ago, Alex Oxford said: Ahaha I’m just giving you a hard time dude. I’ve done the same thing a number of times! Good to see I’m not the only one. Aloe 1 Quote Link to comment
Bladderbabe 46 Posted May 12, 2019 Share Posted May 12, 2019 This is so good!! herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted May 13, 2019 Author Share Posted May 13, 2019 21 hours ago, RagingPython said: I literally just realised it didn’t actually delete all the text in the quote I tried to delete. Whoops. It was supposed to just be the text about the musical’s ending, which was claimed to be a spoiler in the story. I can’t delete the post though, maybe a moderator can for me or something. I didn’t mean too man, I tried to delete it, and I didn’t realise it didn’t actually delete. Les Miserables was written in 1862 is it still a spoiler if it's almost 200 years old jk jk just giving you a hard time, sorry about not giving a heads up. Thanks for the positive feedback overall, though! I'm almost done with a couple of short stories, one messing and one not. Again, looking to post both so people who aren't into messing have new content. ed2 1 Quote Link to comment
RagingPython 241 Posted May 13, 2019 Share Posted May 13, 2019 2 hours ago, herrokitty said: Les Miserables was written in 1862 is it still a spoiler if it's almost 200 years old jk jk just giving you a hard time, sorry about not giving a heads up. Thanks for the positive feedback overall, though! I'm almost done with a couple of short stories, one messing and one not. Again, looking to post both so people who aren't into messing have new content. I don’t really mind that much, to be honest I’ve already forgotten the character’s name and it probably won’t affect my eventual viewing experience at all. Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted May 15, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 15, 2019 Here's the next two stories! As I said, they're a bit shorter. I wanted to write them because the first is based very loosely on a real experience and the second is based very loosely on a story someone else told me. The first, while tame, has messing so I'll make it bold when you're safe if you're not into that. The rest of freshman year, from a desperation standpoint, was pretty dull. I had one short story over the summer. I took a janitor job at a local indoor pool. I would show up fifteen minutes before closing and get set up and begin to clean the place as it closed. This meant I usually overlapped for half an hour with the lifeguard that summer, who was a girl named Leah who was using this as her summer job before she went off to college. She was nice, we greeted each other, but we never got to know each other. She was, however, very attractive, and looked rather like Kelly Rohrbach, stereotypical one piece red swimsuit and all. She did wear her hair in a ponytail while lifeguarding, because unlike in movies, girls try to keep their hair out of their face when they have to do physical activities. I know, the least important aspect of unrealistic portrayals in movies. One day, I had come in to work and saw Leah sitting in her lifeguard chair, but she was gripping the sides of the chair very tightly. It had become second nature to double check people’s desperation status, so I did. 50% bladder. Well, that doesn’t seem to be the cause of her discomfort. Bowels: 99%. Oh. That’s really high. I couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it was. Well, I thought humorously, I hope no one drowns for the next fifteen minutes because she is not in much position to save you. Unfortunately for her, she had to be there as long as someone was in the pool, and some kids were making sure they were there until the absolute closing time. I quickly stopped in the janitor’s closet so I wouldn’t be just standing there gawking suspiciously and filled up the bucket and grabbed a mop. When I wheeled back out to the pool area, she was at her limit. 100%. She looked extremely uncomfortable and was hunched over now. She blew her whistle to signal closing for the last kids (I’m pretty sure they technically had a few minutes, but fortunately/unfortunately they didn’t check the clock and listened to her). I slowly began to work as the last kids in the pool ran into the locker room. I slowly worked my way closer to her as she gingerly stood up and got out of her chair. She inched her way to a small office where she kept her things (and my janitor closet was in) and as she got to the door, I could see her from behind and could see her butt clearly tightly clenched. As she fumbled with the door, I finally saw the number drop. 99%. 98%. A tiny bulge appeared, like a knuckle, before it slowly grew. As it reached the size of a clementine, she got the door open and rushed inside. There was no bathroom in there, but she must not have wanted to enter the girls’ lockers while the kids were still there. I got back to work, amazed by what I had seen, but couldn’t see her now. A few minutes later, after the kids had left the locker room, she came out wearing sweatpants over her swimsuit. She still had her swimsuit on and it was covering her top. She speed-walked past me, face bright red as she muttered, “Hi” and left the building. Her walking was a little bow-legged and she smelled clearly of poop as she walked by - she must have decided she was going to clean up and change at home rather than here as I cleaned the place. Understandable. I smirked, knowing what had happened, but of course neither she nor I ever brought it up (nor did she likely think I even knew what had happened). Just wetting here on out I mentioned before that my English class had inspired my career choice. Sophomore year, I declared myself a journalism major and began to take all the required classes. I also ditched the music extracurricular and signed up to write for the student newspaper. There’s always jokes about journalism being a dying career, but it was pretty true with our student newspaper because they immediately assigned me to cover the student government, despite having no background in politics and no past experience in journalism. As I attended student government meetings, I realized it WAS the sucker assignment as student government was boring as hell. It was just giving money to student groups. And planning homecoming week. It didn’t attract the best and brightest, either, mostly College Republicans and College Democrats seeking a résumé boost. However, out of sheer dumb luck the student government president wasn’t a total idiot and pushed forward a sustainability plan for student housing that the rest of the legislators were all too happy to vote for to take credit. The day it passed, late in the fall semester, she promised I could interview her after the meeting. I sat to the side as the meeting went on, people dragging the meeting out with inane questions about procedure and passive aggressive comments about each other. I sat there, bored, already having typed up a summary and only making a note to jot down particularly good zingers that might spice up the article. I watched the president, Sandra, who couldn’t hide her own face of boredom (and probably contempt). Sandra looked a lot like this blogger and had on a similar-looking professional outfit minus the blazer (do these student government types even understand that they’re college students, not real politicians?). She almost seemed to be… bouncing, though, despite her bored facial expression. I was off to the side, so as I looked down I could just see that she was bouncing her knee up and down. Hmm… Yup. She was at 90% bladder capacity. Poor Sandra had to run these meetings and these people could debate for hours. Sometimes, she hands over the facilitation to someone else to leave the room, but it seems with her legislation on the line, she wasn’t going to excuse herself. I couldn’t help but fantasize. What if she had an accident? It would be so obvious with that white skirt. These were catty people. They’d probably find some way to punish her. But embarrassment aside, you can’t impeach someone for pissing themselves, could you? I thought, amused, for a moment what would happen if the President pissed themselves in front of people. Late night TV would have a field day. Would I… cover that? Is that newsworthy? I was pretty early into my journalism career, but I’m pretty sure the answer is a resounding no. I’m not looking to work for TMZ here. Though… with my “superpower,” I’d probably be a pretty good tabloid reporter… Back to Sandra, I saw her bite her lip and lean forward a little as the number climbed to 92%. Finally, however, the bickering stopped and a vote came up. Despite all the arguments, the sustainability legislation sailed through without opposition. I saw Sandra loosen up with relief and then immediately tighten up, probably because she was at 95% capacity. After some other logistical details, the meeting was finally adjourned. I approached her with my laptop and my recorder. “Hey Sandra, can I interview you about the sustainability legislation?” I could see her almost twitch in reaction. She probably had forgotten she had agreed to do this but seemed either thrown off-guard or didn’t want to admit to having to pee, especially with all these politically conniving people around her, and just blurted out, “Sure.” She then followed up, “Let’s go to my office.” I followed her in and sat across from her as she took her chair behind her desk. I set down my laptop and recorder. “Mind if I turn on the recorder to make sure I quote you accurately?” “Sure.” “Alright, thanks.” I set everything up and then looked up to ask my first question. I also was double checking her desperation… 98%. I could see her legs were tightly crossed, but she then pulled herself and her chair towards me and her legs were covered by the desk. I could see her bounce just a little bit as I presume she was shaking her foot. Her hands were on the desk, but they were tense, not relaxed. She really had to go and was doing a good job of hiding it, but since I knew, I could see the signs. “Alright, so, today the student government passed a resolution outlining and supporting a sustainability plan. What exactly does that entail and why did you introduce it?” I saw beads of sweat form along her hairline as she concentrated to both hold it and answer. “Umm… Well… Climate change is this existential threat, which can seem overwhelming, but that means everybody needs to do their part and we’re trying to do ours. So, that includes introducing composting to student spaces and doing an analysis of the student union and student housing on waste and carbon emissions. We’re setting aside student money to fund studying ways to reduce those things.” It was strange to hear someone as no-nonsense as Sandra use fillers like um and and well. “What are examples of potential ways to reduce waste and emissions?” “Umm… Like, switching light bulbs to LED or fitting windows that don’t let heat out in the winter.” “Great… Did you expect any controversy? Any potential unintentional consequences?” “Umm…” I saw she had reached 100%. Her hands tightened into balls on top of the table and she looked down for a second. She sounded strained as she answered. “This really should be commonsense and…” She paused, inhaling sharply. She sat, frozen, for a second, then continued, “I think you saw that with the universal vote.” “Fair enough, but there was quite a bit of debate. Why?” I saw her hands loosen. She coughed, and then spoke a little louder than before. “Well, it will cost student fee money, and I think representatives should be thorough and ensure that our fee money isn’t being wasted. They’re just being thorough.” After she was done talking, I could hear a faint trickling. I checked. Yup. It was already down to 50% and dropping. She was peeing right in front of me and hiding it under the desk! She had relieved half her bladder as she spoke to me and was still peeing! I was amazed at the brazenness. “Okay, one more question. Anything else on the agenda for this semester?” “I would love to investigate ways to have students control the student union more, things like pricing, decorations, even wages.” Back to no-nonsense, professional, confident. This lady really was meant for politics. She was so confident that if I didn’t hear the faint dripping as she finished peeing, I wouldn’t have believed it for myself that she had just wet herself in front of me. I checked her bladder. 0%. I turned off the recorder. “Thanks so much for your time” I stood up and offered my hand to shake. She very briefly looked at her lap, then stood up. No sign of wetness on the front of her white skirt - must have been why she checked - but I could hear the drips from the back of her skirt onto the floor. We shook hands and I left, amazed at what she got away with. I was tempted to hang around to see what she would do, but I couldn’t figure out a non-creepy way of doing that, so I headed home to finish my article. ed2, Rinatro, Keita123 and 4 others 7 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted May 15, 2019 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted May 15, 2019 Damn that was fantastic I really enjoyed that herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
Midd 88 Posted May 17, 2019 Share Posted May 17, 2019 Okay this is good, and I’m loving the dual need situations, keep up the good work! herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
wedgeantilles 156 Posted May 17, 2019 Share Posted May 17, 2019 Awesome new chapter, I loved it. herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted May 19, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 19, 2019 Thanks for the continuing positive feedback 🙂 Here's the next story I wrote, which is a bit longer. There is sexual content, as a heads up! A month before I had interviewed Sandra, I met a fellow sophomore named Jennifer. We were at a Halloween party hosted by my now friend Rana. I didn’t know Jennifer before, but I noticed her immediately. She was dressed up as a very outdated character, Miranda Frost, from the James Bond movie Die Another Day, but I could also see why - she looked a lot like actress Rosamund Pike. Though, if my perverse self could say, the was a little bit curvier, with a bigger butt accentuated by the tight white pants and breasts that really filled the mesh top. Actually, I confess: I was obsessed. She looked incredible. I saw her the moment she walked into the party and I was just dying to find a way to talk to her. I was pretty passive around women, and actually up until that point I had a few crushes but never any romantic encounters and not even real kisses except for games like spin the bottle, so it was pretty out of character for me to just… want to be proactive like that. I acted cool, though, not wanting to come across a creep, and mingled with the friends I knew there (I know, sophomore year was a big step up from freshman year - I had friends outside of video games!). Eventually, we ended up at the same spot. I was talking to Rana about who knows what when Jennifer came up, apologized for interrupting, and whispered to Rana, “Where’s the bathroom?” I didn’t actually hear it, but Rana replied, perhaps a little too loudly due to the alcohol, “Down the hall and to the left, but there’s a line, I just checked.” I knew that had to be about the bathroom. There were some somewhat desperate ladies in the house, at the 80% range, including Rana, but nothing obvious or totally urgent (and as far as I know, they all made it), but I glanced over Jennifer and saw she was a little bit higher than that at an 85%. Still could easily make it if she got in line, but she shrugged and said, “I can hold it.” At that point, Rana introduced us two and I smiled and shook Jennifer’s hand, learning her name. “So, Jennifer, how do you know Rana?” “Oh, we had the same intro to sociology class and we used to do our homework together and complain about the professor. We also did a rec league volleyball team together. How about you?” Rana slipped off to get in line for the bathroom and now alone with this woman I had been eyeing all night, I replied, “I met her through my old roommate Jalen.” In reality, in my head, I thought about that night Rana peed herself in front of me, but I wasn’t about to mention that. “Oh, cool, I’ve met Jalen, he’s nice.” Okay, I had to make this interesting, otherwise we would be stuck making small talk then never talking again. “He is! Okay, let’s not get stuck making small talk like we’re real adults or something. If you could solve one real-world problem immediately, what would it be?” Jennifer laughed. Good sign. “Wow, um… okay… I’ve never been asked that before.” “I bet you have some good ideas.” “Really? Thanks. I’m actually looking to study public policy.” “See? I knew it. But what’s your answer?” She thought about it. She then replied, “Everyone gets a place to live. It’s so hard to fix anything else in your life if you’re homeless!” “That’s a good point. I like it. Sounds like you’re a good person, too, unlike half the people who make policies in government these days. “Ha, yeah, that’s a big reason I want to do it. So, what about you? What’s your one single policy?” My gambit worked and we had a good conversation that was a bit more meaningful than fluff about our majors and the weather. Eventually, though, I had to ask. “So, since we’re at a Halloween party, I gotta ask… are you dressed as Miranda Frost from Die Another Day?” “Yes! Oh my god. No one can figure it out.” “Yeah, because that movie sucked and no one remembers it.” She laughed. “Oh, don’t make me laugh, I have to pee…” I realized we actually were talking so much I had forgotten she had to. 95%... Yeah… that’s getting there. She continued, “It’s true no one liked it, but hey. Halloween costumes in college are just an excuse to show off your body anyway.” Was she… maybe… flirting with me? Me? The sophomore nerd and total unintentional eunuch and secret pervert? While she really had to pee? I wanted to pinch myself. I had to think of a reply. Acknowledge the flirt, give it back, don’t be a creep. Argh, why is that balance so hard! “Well… Who are you showing off your body to?” “Whoever will appreciate it.” “I think I might know someone who will…” “You’ll have to introduce me to him… but after I pee.” She crossed her leg and did just the shortest pee dance to accentuate the point before walking over down the hall. I was a little disappointed she would get to pee, but maybe if I played my cards right something perhaps even more special (for me, at the time, at least) could happen. Imagine my luck, then, when she came back not a minute later. “Well, that was quick.” “There were four people in line… I don’t know if I can hold it for that long.” “Well, my apartment is just a few blocks from here. If you’d like, you can use my bathroom.” “Hmm… I gotta say, I didn’t expect to be invited over to a guy’s place for the bathroom, but I’ll take it.” I could not believe how quickly things were rolling. I checked the clock as we headed out and realized we had talked for almost an hour - maybe there was more of a click than I had even thought at first. That would explain how she got so desperate. I must have been a better conversationalist than I thought for her to stick around and talk. We walked and talked, laughing at each others’ jokes and didn’t mention her desperation again until a block away from my place, a one bedroom I lived in by myself, when she suddenly crossed her legs and bent over, hands on her hips. “Oooh… I really have to go.” “We’re just a block away! Just hang on.” She uncrossed her legs, but now she was walking with one hand on her crotch. “I’m sorry, this is probably really not sexy…” Seeing her in that little top and her tight white pants and her hand in her crotch at 98% of her bladder capacity… it was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen. “Trust me. You look good regardless of the situation.” She seemed encouraged by that and we made it to the front door of my apartment complex without any complications. As I stood there, fumbling with the keys, though, she resorted to hopping around on her feet and doing a classic, almost toddler-esque potty dance. I had to get this door open or else I would have a hard time explaining why I was so… “excited.” I finally did and she rushed in. She turned around and gave me a slightly panicked look. “Where’s your apartment?” “Is this… a bad time to tell you I live on the tenth floor? Stairs or elevator?” She lightly punched me in the arm with the hand that wasn’t in her crotch. “Elevator. I would not walk ten flights of stairs even if I wasn’t about to piss myself!” I punched the elevator button. She danced around nervously. I was hit with inspiration. I stepped closer to her. “Hey… I have an idea to help distract you.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Mind if I grab this?” I took her hand out of her crotch and held it. “So far I don’t know if this is going to be helpful… but go on…” I leaned in. It was clear what I was interested in doing. “May I?” She leaned into me in response and we kissed. We made out. It was really my first time genuinely kissing like that. I had no idea if I was any good at it. We separated for a moment. She grinned and said, “Is this your first time?” I died on the inside. “Was it that obvious?” “No, it was good, it WAS distracting… You’re just enthusiastic. Play it cool, I know you can, you’ve been playing it cool all party. But don’t think I didn’t notice you checking me out from the beginning.” “Damn, you caught me.” We kissed again, with more restraint on my end. I think it went a little better because we kept kissing until the elevator arrived and kept kissing as it went up. I subtly checked her bladder capacity… 99%... I could tell her legs were tightly crossed as we made out, arms around each other. It was driving me crazy to feel her subtly fidget and bounce as we kissed. Good thing our making out was a good cover for what was surely physical proof I was… excited. 100%. There was a ding as we hit the tenth floor. The doors opened and we separated. I stepped out but turned around to see her standing still, legs crossed, bent over. Her hands were back in her crotch. That’s when I saw the numbers start to go down. 99%. 98%. She stood up and yanked her hands out of her crotch, both slightly wet and glistening, and immediately started to undo her pants button. A wet spot appeared, first the size of a coin, then a hand. It grew a couple inches up, a few inches to the side on each leg, and a few inches down her thighs before she could undo her pants. She yanked them down and squatted in the elevator right in front of me (as I held the door open so it wouldn’t close on her and on this view!) and I saw she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She was peeing as she squatted, full-force, as I stared. I saw her trimmed brown hair, a shade darker than her blonde hair on her head, and I could see every detail as she kept on peeing. The number kept going down… 70%... 60%... At around 55%, though, she forced her stream to stop, a puddle a couple feet wide already at her feet. She looked up at me, red in embarrassment, but she raised an eyebrow at my nether regions. She pulled up her pants, wincing as the wet fabric re-met her skin, then stepped out of the elevator. “Umm… I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.” I put my arm around her. “I don’t care one bit. Now let’s get you inside before they find out who vandalized the elevator.” I followed up my comment with a grin to let her know I was joking. She let out a laugh, to my relief, and followed me into my apartment. As I closed the door behind us, she said, “I hope I didn’t totally ruin the mood.” I wish she knew the absurdity of that. “Trust me… Not even a little.” I emphasized my point by kissing her again. We stood there, making out, before I felt her hand get lower and lower... She said, “I can see you’re not lying. Good.” I took that as permission to get a little… handsier. As my hands descended, I could feel the tip of her wet spot on behind and almost shuddered in anticipation. She interrupted me, though. “Before we keep going, I should finish peeing. Where is your bathroom?” I nodded and led her down the hall. She undid her pants and sat on the toilet without closing the door. She said, “You can come in if you’d like, you’ve already seen everything.” I wondered if she knew now what I was into… I gladly stepped in and she pulled me closer, clearly observing my… well, you know. She began peeing. 55%... 50%... 45%... As she peed, she undid my pants and slid them and my boxers down. Hearing her pee, seeing her with her pants down, having my pants down… I was light-headed. She put it in her mouth. I came so quickly, probably even before she finished peeing. In my defense, it was my first time. She was nice, though, and we spent the night with her teaching me various ways to pleasure a woman… I think she had a good time by the end of it. The next morning, I made her breakfast and offered her sweatpants. She smiled at me and pulled up her white pants instead. There was a faint yellow stain on both the front and back that I could clearly see, but she said, “I think it’s more obvious if I walk around with non-matching sweatpants.” Fair enough. We hooked up a few more times that year, but she eventually ended up with a boyfriend. We stayed friends through college. As for peeing, I never saw her wet herself again, but once we went out and on the way back she pulled up her red dress and pulled aside a red thong and peed behind a bike rack, clearly visible to me. She always peed in my bathroom with the door open, too. I still don’t know to this day if she knew the effect seeing her pee would have on me, but I those moments are saved in my memory forever. Oh, and once she told me about coming home to her boyfriend drunk as hell and wetting the bed. Lucky guy. Though he probably didn’t enjoy it as much as I would have. Trickling Down, Mrgala21, Concensus and 6 others 9 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted May 19, 2019 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted May 19, 2019 Damn that was fantastic herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
Midd 88 Posted May 19, 2019 Share Posted May 19, 2019 okay, that was damn good. herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted May 25, 2019 Author Share Posted May 25, 2019 Here's another two stories! The first has messing and is short, so I'll bold where you're free to skip to if you're not into that. I unfortunately didn’t witness anything like my high school senior year during exam weeks in college, but there was one incident. The end of sophomore year, I had to miss a final (I genuinely had to travel due to a death in the family, but I felt weird telling that to the instructor knowing she probably didn’t believe me) and I was scheduled to make it up the last day of finals week in the office of our TA. Selene was also there to make up the final. She was on our track & field team and in my discussion group. They had their last meet on the day of the final, so she was making it up as well. When I got there, she was telling the TA that they had their end of the year celebration last night. She did seem a little hung over, dressed in a plain tee and green athletic shorts. She looked a lot like (and had the build of) track star Michelle Jenneke, but her athletic shorts were the loose, baggier, comfy kind, not the kind you wear when actually running. We got started with the exam, with me checking Selene’s capacity out of habit now. 60% bladder, 70% bowels. Seemed high right before a final with six essays, but not so high I was anticipating a “moment,” if you will. She must have been hung over and just wanted to get this final over with. In the silence, punctuated by furious writing, I could hear her stomach grumbling. I’ve firsthand experienced the kind of uncomfortable stomach that comes after a long night of drinking and didn’t envy her attempting to try to concentrate on her exam. I was sitting at the desk next to her, so I could side-eye and see as her legs crossed at 65% and 75%. She started tapping her foot and bouncing her legs at 70% and 80%. She leaned forward, probably in mild pain, when her bowels hit 85%. I was so distracted I was probably only halfway done with my essays. The whole time, she was just continuously writing and writing. The TA was just sitting at her own desk on the other side of the room on her laptop, oblivious - which gave me more time to observe this desperate, attractive, athletic lady. I saw her face wince and she leaned so far over her nose was practically on her paper. At that point I saw the bowels hit 90%. She eventually straightened up when the wave of desperation subsided, though, and resumed writing. I realized I was not on track to finish my own essay at this rate and forced myself to ignore her and get to finishing my own writing. Focusing on the final, I breezed through the next three essays. I looked up, debating turning it in and leaving so I could be done with the semester, but I glanced over and saw Selene at 95% of her bladder capacity and 99% of her bowel capacity. One hand was dug in her crotch and as I looked, I realized I could smell a faint fart. She was lucky it was silent - the TA didn’t notice anything. In fact, as I kept staring (probably very obviously if anyone was looking), I saw her subtly lift her butt up and in the quiet room, I could even hear another “silent” fart - like the wind blowing. A couple seconds after that, though, I heard another quiet fart, but this one ended in a quiet squelch. I saw her bowel capacity had reduced a percentage. She must have sharted! Her ears started to burn red as she stood up and gave her final to the TA, who didn’t suspect a thing - though her percentage lowered by another point as she handed her final. Her bladder reduced sympathetically, from 95% to 93%. She muttered goodbye to the TA and myself and quickly walked out. I couldn’t see any sign of her small accident yet, though I could smell a faint poop smell. I couldn’t miss this - I gave the TA my exam. I quickly followed after Selene, pretending like I was just happening to use the exit by the girls’ bathroom. Selene heard my footsteps and straightened up and removed her hand from her crotch, pretending nothing was wrong. This was her demise. I saw as she slowly walked down the hall, with me quickly catching up, her bowels immediately began to drop from 98% all the way down to 0% over the course of about 30 seconds, the time it took for me to catch up to her. I could see her shorts, though loose, start showing a bulge at around 50% and it becoming quite obvious as it reached 0%, the bulge implying something the size of an orange trapped within. In the quiet and empty hallway, I could hear the crackling and the occasional quiet fart (though not as bad as you might imagine given her recent drinking) and saw her bladder was also decreasing in spurts - 95% to 90%, 90% to 80%, all the way down to 50% by the time I was beside her. There were trails of her pee along her toned legs and a couple of yellow splotches on the white floor behind her. I, of course, was in heaven, and it was very visible I was enjoying the show. I couldn’t let Selene know I was a perv! I dipped left while she went right and immediately entered the men’s bathroom. I was so horny I really thought about jerking off right there in public, but I entered a stall and sat down to calm down and eventually pee. Fortunately for me, though, I heard the door bang open and footsteps as someone entered the stall next to me (there were only two stalls). I looked down and saw familiar running shoes, shaved legs, and trails of wetness. It was a girl! It was Selene! Why was she here? She must not have known I was in the bathroom and perhaps the girls’ bathroom was closed for repairs or cleaning. She must have seen my feet in the stall next door but probably didn’t recognize my shoes and also didn’t care - she probably didn’t want to walk all the way home with a load in her shorts. I heard her slowly lower her shorts and heard a loud splash as she must have dumped the load into the toilet. The bathroom began to smell like her poop as she lowered her shorts the rest of the way and sat down to pee. I could see the inside of her shorts, wrapped around her ankles. You know how some looser women’s shorts have, like, compression shorts or a pseudo-underwear inside? Often of a mesh pattern. Kind of like men’s swimming trunks. Anyway, if you can picture that, it was like that, so she wasn’t wearing underwear. The lining was white and there was a clear brown stain the size of an orange and a yellowish tinge further up. The sight of that and the sound of her peeing was too much and I sat there on the toilet, willing myself to be silent as I came. I believe she was none the wiser as she pulled up her shorts, not bothering to wipe or clean up (I guess what’s the point at this rate) and walked out. I waited for a certain… issue to subside before doing the same, though she was long gone by the time I left. Wetting only here on out, next part. My junior year, I was lucky to witness three events. The first was at a protest I was covering as a reporter for the student newspaper, a break from student government I was happy to take. The protest was about sexual assault, as this was around the time the #MeToo movement was gaining visibility, and campus had a few blatant cases of sexual assault being ignored by administration. But you’re not here to hear about depressing college politics. The protest marched all throughout campus for a couple hours, stopping to disrupt places like libraries and administrative offices. I didn’t expect to see any desperation and the thought was furthest from my mind as I took my job seriously and wanted to cover the protest well, walking along and jotting notes and pulling people aside to interview. However, ¾ of the way through, a friend named Melissa came up to me. I knew her through journalism because she was a photographer for the student newspaper, but today someone else was doing that and she was participating as a protestor. Melissa was a skinny blonde who you’d easily expect to be at a protest, with hip high-waisted shorts and dreads, like this Instagram model. I personally thought it was a bit weird to have dreads as a white person, but you’re also not here to hear my opinions on these things. Melissa was a nice person, we got along in the office, and she was an excellent photographer. Melissa stepped out of the stream of a couple of hundred marchers and came up to me as I stood to the side on the sidewalk away from the road, notepad in hand. She looked a little panicked. She stood close so she could talk quietly. “Hey, where is the nearest bathroom? I gotta pee…” As if to emphasize her point, she squirmed then, lifting her left leg and wrapping it around her right, holding her crotch with her right hand for a couple seconds. I couldn’t believe she was so blatant about her “potty dance” in front of me, but she was always a pretty forward person. I looked at her bladder capacity… she was already at 95%. Yeah, that’s potty dance in front of your friend levels, for sure. I realized she asked me a question and I should stop staring at her like a creep. “Oh… uhh… there’s a coffeeshop a couple blocks away, the march should go right by it. I’ll point it out when we get there.” She looked relieved. “Thank god. I didn’t know we would be marching this long, I didn’t use the bathroom before coming here.” I didn’t have an answer to that so we walked at the back of the pack in silence, Melissa occasionally stopping to cross her legs and bounce in place for a couple seconds. A block away from the coffeeshop, I saw she was at 98% and had taken to permanently having her hand in her crotch, no longer caring if people saw her. I said, encouragingly, “It’s just a block away, hang on!” All she could muster was a muffled “Mhmm” in response. Her steps were getting smaller and smaller until we were at the front door. She stood there, hand in crotch, hunched over, veryy clearly needing to pee to anyone looking and very clearly waiting for me to open them. The protestors were just marching by without caring, and were fortunately grabbing most of the attention, but I saw a couple people sitting on the outside patio giving her a strange look. She was at 99%. I swung the door open, willing myself not to be… too visibly excited at watching this very desperate lady, and she shuffled in. Bathrooms were for paying customers only so I told her I would buy one while she went before a barista would yell at us. The bathrooms were behind me so I couldn’t watch while she walked over, but apparently there was a wait because by the time I bought a coffee and walked over, she was still in front of two doors, each locked. Must have been single occupancy bathroom. I saw her number was down to 95% and couldn’t help but look down. I didn’t see a visible wet spot from behind as I walked towards her, but I as I got closer I could see just one wet trail along her upper left leg as she crossed her right leg over in front. In fact, as I got to her, I saw it go down to 93% and the trail grew in size. I tapped her shoulder. “How long have you been waiting?” “Ugh, there was someone in front of me before and she just went in so who knows. I don’t know what the other person is doing but they’ve been in there the whole time.” We were at the back of the coffeeshop and I saw her eyeing the door to the back alley. Was she… thinking about peeing in the alley? I was honestly so turned on at the thought. Her percentage suddenly dropped to 90%. Standing beside her, I could see her front and could now see a wet circle at her crotch. She muttered, “Fuck it.” She started running to the door as I saw the number begin to drop steadily. With each step, it was 89%, 88%, 87%. Trying to be helpful and also wanting to see the action as the pervert I was, I ran ahead to open the door for her. She rushed out, now more than one trail running down her leg as the wet spot kept darkening and growing. From behind, I could see it climb up her rear and appear along the legs of the shorts. I followed her out into the alley, which fortunately for her, was empty and closed the door so people inside the coffeeshop couldn’t see. She swooped her shorts down and squatted, revealing a surprisingly effeminate flower-patterned panties. I was surprised her panties didn’t go down with her shorts, and maybe she was too, because I clearly saw the already darkened crotch glisten with renewed wetness as a trickle dripped down her bottom and onto the ground. It stopped before a full on spurt came out, pushing through the cotton and forward a little towards her feet. She finally got control and pulled aside her very wet gusset, revealing her vulva as piss shot out. She peed freely now, audibly sighing in relief and not caring as some of it dripped down her vulva back into her panties. The puddle below her grew and grew, bubbling a little and frothing where the pee landed. I could easily hear the hissing of the piss coming out of her over the sound of it hitting the asphalt ground. The puddle was a couple feet long by the time her percentage hit zero and I watched as the last drops trickled down and was absorbed by her underwear. She let go and the gusset slipped over, covering herself. She gingerly stood up, wincing at how wet it probably felt down there. The wetness was less than a third up the front of her flower-patterned underwear, though I suspect it was much higher up in the back given her squatting. She pulled up her shorts, which showed a relatively small circle on her crotch the size of a fist before finally making eye contact with me. That was, of course, when she raised her eyebrow at my obvious arousement. She walked up to me. “I would say thank you for helping me out, but it seems I already paid you back.” I was deeply embarrassed. I didn’t know how to answer. “Uh… Sorry…” She smirked. “It’s fine. Actually, it makes me feel a little bit better about myself. Now, you need to calm down so you can go back to reporting on the rest of the protest while I go home and change.” I nodded and she turned and walked away. I could see a similar fist-sized wet spot from behind as she walked down the alley and turned and disappeared before I went to trying to distract myself so I could go catch up to the protest and report on the rest of it. I hoped I hadn’t missed anything important… Melissa and I continued to work for the student newspaper for the next two years (she was a year ahead of me and graduated after that) and stayed friends through that, but we never did bring up that incident and I never saw her that desperate again. Ah, well, that’s probably the best possible outcome in real life - mutual ignoring of an embarrassing moment for everybody. ed2 and Keita123 2 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted May 25, 2019 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted May 25, 2019 That was fantastic I really loved that herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted May 29, 2019 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 29, 2019 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 journalism. It went from Friday morning through Sunday morning to avoid missing too much school. It was a state over, but not too far, so we carpooled/road tripped there. One of our sports reporters, Matt, had a car in college so he drove. In our car was Melissa, who you heard of previously, myself, and Leila, an opinion editor. I didn’t work with the opinion side, so I didn’t know Leila well, but she was not what I expected after spending all weekend with her. She was in a sorority and intimidatingly beautiful, standing out from the others due to being half-Persian, and she always came across like she was too good for her surroundings. She looked, in fact, a lot like this Iranian model. She was always fashionable, as well. But, when I actually began talking to her, she was actually quite down to earth and quite an open book, as well. This unexpected bluntness was quite endearing, I think because you just didn’t expect it from such a lady. But, all the way there, she and I were in the back seat so I got to know just how little she lived up to the “prim and proper” mannerisms and fashion she had. We talked about drugs, boys and drunken hook-ups, the gross secrets of her sorority sisters, her cheating once on a final, and (to my interest) her propensity to have to poop if she ate figs. The drive over and the conference was, from you readers’ perspective, probably uninteresting. However, it was very, very busy as people tried to jampack the whole conference into two and a half days. And, with all college conferences, the nights were full of alcohol, parties, and hook-ups. I definitely got lucky myself. But, no desperation sighted. So, after a blur of a weekend, it was Sunday afternoon and Melissa, Matt, and I were groggily packing ourselves into Matt’s car, hungover to all hell. Leila, on the other hand, despite drinking just as heavily, was dressed to the nines as she had been all weekend. She was wearing a white romper like the model was in that post earlier. Similarly, she was also wearing sunglasses, perhaps the only sign she was also hungover. The first hour of the drive was in silence due to our throbbing headaches. As we chugged water and slowly recovered, I finally spoke up. “Alright, Leila, how the hell are you so well put together?” Melissa chimed in. “Yeah, you’re dressed like you’re going to a dinner party and I’m in sweatpants.” Leila chuckled. “Trust me, I’m dying on the inside too. I’m just chugging water and if I take off these sunglasses the sunlight might make me puke.” I laughed but replied, “Okay, but do you need to out-dress all of us so badly?” Leila was apologetic. “I’m not trying to show you up! I just have a date when we get back.” We all replied with, “Oooooooooh.” Matt spoke up from the driver’s seat, “Tell us the deets!” “Um… he’s a senior, he’s in a frat… but he’s not like a bro-y douche, he’s an engineering major. He wants to research cleaning up oil spills. My friend introduced us.” We gossiped a bit more about the boy and her love life before Melissa spoke up, “Do we have any food? I’m famished.” We had slept late Sunday morning and skipped lunch to finish packing, so we hadn’t had food yet. I rummaged around the back seats. “Umm… We have a can of peanuts here and some dried fruit.” I passed it to Melissa, who shared it with Matt, before she passed them back to Leila. Leila hungrily dove into the peanuts before moving on to the dried fruit. I noted the type. “Uh… Leila… You know those are figs, right?” Leila laughed. “I don’t even care. Besides, figs are from the Middle East just like me, we have to get along, right?” “...that doesn’t even make sense.” Hangovers reduced, water drunk, and food eaten, we were all more talkative and the miles passed by. I discreetly checked Leila’s bladder and bowel capacity. Sure enough, the eating and drinking to compensate for the late and hungover morning was catching up to her. Her bladder was at 70% and her bowels had surged ahead of it to 75%. That piqued my interest, as we had probably two and a half more hours to go, but there were gas stations and rest stops along the way so I assumed it wouldn’t get out of hand and I wasn’t going to get a show. I was wrong on that… The first reason why is because despite the conversation livening up, Leila eventually fell asleep. Unsurprising, as she had hinted to us she spent both nights with different guys (raising even more questions for me as to how she manages to look so put together). We drove an hour without her waking up. The longer we went, the more I checked on her capacity as I realized it was climbing quickly and steadily. After an hour, her bladder was at 80% and her bowels were at a shocking 90%. She was not lying about the impact of figs. The reason she woke up was rather funny. When she hit 90%, asleep and head against the window, I heard a quiet “woosh” noise, which I realized was a fart. It must have been from Leila while she was asleep. I assume I was the only one who heard that one, being much closer in the backseat, but it was immediately followed by a louder, ruder sounding one, more like a “brrap.” The whole car realized it came from Leila and we all looked at each other in surprise. We then smelled the farts and maybe it was such a bad smell coming from such a put-together looking woman like Leila, but we all started laughing hysterically, which woke Leila up. “Uh… what’s so funny?” Melissa replied, “Yo, you just farted so loud in your sleep.” Leila started laughing along. “Ugh, not even the first time I’ve done that in front of others. Apparently I farted in my sleep in front of my ex all the time.” I joked, “Those figs getting to you?” Leila grimaced. “Uh… yeah, actually. Can we stop soon? Otherwise this fart is just a taste of what’s to come.” Matt laughed. “Gross, Leila. But, some bad news, we just passed the last exit for 35 miles, so it’ll be half an hour.” Leila groaned. “Ugh. I can hold it. Stupid rural America.” Melissa winked at her. “Not a good thing for an Iranian to be caught saying, don’t you think?” We all started laughing again and I think Leila put her desperation to the back of her head as we continued talking. I could observe her subtle body language, though. A few minutes later, she had her legs tightly crossed. Unsurprising, her bladder was at 85% full. Her arms were then locked stiffly, pressing into the car seat on both sides. Her whole body was tense, which was probably from her trying to hold her bowels in, climbing from 90% to 95% in a relatively short time. As it climbed, she stayed stiff with her arms straight down, but she started leaning further and further forward and her arms moved forward until it was gripping the edge of the car seat. Her stomach probably hurt, the combination of figs and last night’s alcohol doing her no favors. We finally saw the exit coming up and she moved her hands to clutch her stomach. “Please hurry…” Matt took the exit as quickly as he could, but when we took the off-ramp, we realized the exit was just to a country road with nothing on it. It said there was a gas station, but as we went further down, we saw it was abandoned. Leila groaned loudly. “Why is this happening!” Matt reassured, “There’s a rest stop coming up. It’s just in a few miles!” He gunned it back to the highway. I could see Leila was at 98% of her bowel capacity. She caught me staring at her, though. I blushed, hoping she didn’t think I was objectifying her (which I was…). She didn’t, apologizing, “You’re right, I shouldn’t have eaten those figs…” I forced a chuckle. “It’ll be fine, Leila, we’ll get to the rest stop and then afterwards we can laugh about this.” “I don’t know if I can la-” Leila stopped mid-sentence as a wet-sounding fart escaped from her. We were no longer laughing, knowing that she was on the verge of stinking up the whole car for the rest of the ride. Melissa subtly rolled down her window just a little. Leila did the same and then said, “I’m sorry!” I was confused as to what she was apologizing for, but then I saw her lift her butt off the seat and let out the loudest fart yet, probably three seconds long. It was so ridiculous we couldn’t help but laugh, including Leila. Melissa said, “Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve farted like that ever.” The rest stop appeared then, and Leila clapped her hands against the front seat. “Faster faster!” I saw her bowels go to 99%... then 100% as we got to the off-ramp. Her bladder was at a desperate 93%, too. Leila turned to me, dead serious. “I’m straight up prairie-dogging it.” Melissa shouted, “Gross!” I patted her back sympathetically and told her she would make it, but I was in heaven internally. Leila practically opened the door before Matt finished parking. I said I had to go pee, too, and got out and followed Leila in. She made no illusions about her desperation, hunched over with her arms over her stomach. Matt and Melissa stayed in the car while I watched as Leila’s butt faced me. I kept an eye on her 100% full bowels. As she grabbed the rest stop door, I saw the first sign of disaster as the number crept down to 99%... 98%... then as she swung the door open, it plummeted to 70%. The white romper had a lacy layer on top and like many rompers of such a design, there was a solid and more form fitting white layer inside. While the lacy layer was loose enough to not show anything, I could see through it to the tighter inside layer and saw a telltale bulge. Additionally, while she wasn’t totally full bladder-wise, I could see a trickle go down her left leg as she must have let out a spurt or two as she pooped. I saw her let out another spurt as a trickle went down her right leg as she was confronted by the situation inside. Girls’ bathroom: closed for cleaning. She hurried over to the unisex single occupancy bathroom and pulled. Locked. Someone was inside. As she pulled, I saw her bowels drop again to 50%. I heard farts and crackling echo the empty main room and saw the bulge grew big enough to push the lacy layer back. I was surprised there wasn’t an obvious brown discoloration, but whatever underwear she was wearing was containing her accident. The leg openings of the romper were loose enough that as she also pissed in spurts, it just trickled down her legs rather than discolor her romper significantly. I couldn’t just stand there and stare at Leila poop herself, since she would wonder what the hell I was doing, so I walked past her like I hadn’t just heard her obvious accident (and could now smell her accident, too!) to enter the men’s room. To be honest, at that point, I just really wanted to jerk off in a stall at what I had just witnessed and what I presume to be a total accident while she waited. I’m not proud to admit I did just that before using the bathroom myself. By the time I had calmed down and washed my hands thoroughly and exited, she was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if she had finished cleaning up… I pulled on the door for the single occupancy bathroom. It was unlocked! She must have headed back to the car. I looked around furtively, seeing I was alone, stepped in and locked the door. The smell of a fresh shit was very obvious. On instinct, I looked at the trash and saw a layer of loose toilet paper. I had a suspicion… I swept the top layer of toilet paper aside and lo and behold was greeted by a pair of white panties, almost certainly Leila’s. I picked it up and saw the gusset was soaked and the back was totally stained brown throughout. The sight is burned into my memory. I wished I could take it with me, but there’s no way I could hide a smelly pair of underwear in my pocket for a whole car trip. I returned to the car and got in. Beside me, Leila sat in her romper, meek and red faced, but no evidence of an accident. I saw she was at 0% now. Matt said, none the wiser, “Alright, everyone ready?” Leila and I nodded and Matt set off. I snuck a look to Leila’s romper and could see a hint of a wet spot in her crotch, but nothing obvious. Leila was understandably quiet for the rest of the trip. When we got home, she got out and I could see a hint of dried yellow in the inner layer and the faintest small brown stain, maybe the size of a clementine. No one would notice unless you really, really looked… but I noticed because I knew what had happened. To this day I have no idea if she knew that I knew, since we never talked about it. I also have no idea how her date went or if she got to change beforehand. I love the idea that she went straight to her date, though, being viewed by her date and others as this fashionable, sexy woman who was perfectly dressed and made no mistakes while her romper had just the slightest hint she had had an accident. No more messing content. There is sexual content as a heads up! Even though I had, by my junior year, hooked up with various people, I didn’t have a long-term girlfriend until that year. Her name was Cory, one of those unisex names rising in popularity these days. We met on a dating app towards the beginning of the semester dated all through junior year, but she was a year older and graduated before me so we split amicably at the end of that summer so she could go off to grad school somewhere else. She was an education major, and like many teachers, had a bladder of steel. She was just a bit of a tomboy and very blunt, and part of that meant she liked to rip farts around me and then laugh maniacally as I gagged, but my secret power meant I knew when she did that it was almost never out of a moment of desperation, which always secretly disappointed me. In a year of dating her, I didn’t see any real cases of wetting or close calls to share with you - except one. That incident, actually, involved two people - Cory and her friend Ellie. I always found Cory’s friend Ellie a little too attractive… she looked like Blake Lively, but of course I would never tell Cory that. On this day Ellie was wearing a sundress like Blake’s here, though her hair was blonde like Blake’s is now. Cory was a little curvier, and she actually rather looked like a lady some of y’all probably have seen before, which is Naomi. Like her in that picture, Cory was dressed on this day in a simple small pair of jean shorts and a plain form-fitting long-sleeved shirt. Cory never was big on dressing up for things - she didn’t get into fashion the way a lot of her friends did. I always found it endearing how little she conformed to what people felt ladies should be like. It was a very warm day in late spring, signalling the end was near for the school year, and everyone was dressing in warm weather clothes as a way of almost willing summer to arrive. Cory and Ellie had a lecture together (that was two hours long, apparently!) and had gone straight to a popular bar in the summer that had an outdoor patio. Cory texted me to join her and I had finished my classes for the day, so I did. When I arrived, Cory, usually pretty emotionally calm, bounded out of her seat to stand up and kiss me. I was happy to see she was so exuberant… maybe we would have a good time tonight. The girls had a pitcher of beer to share and we contentedly talked about nothing as we enjoyed the beer and warm weather. After we had finished our pitcher, we were a little bit drunk and loose (I may have been grabbing Cory’s leg under the table flirtatiously…) and Ellie brought up, “Tonight’s actually the first outdoor concert at the park! We should go!” Our college was by a park that the town would host outdoor concerts by local artists. It was really an excuse to legally drink outside in a park during the day. It seemed de-stressing from the end of the semester crunch was on the minds of both girls, because Cory agreed and said that we should pick up some alcohol from a liquor store to bring. It was probably another hour by the time we had picked up alcohol (two bottles of wine and a six pack of beer because Cory prefers beer to wine) and found a spot in the park to settle into as the first musician got started (some… techno DJ? It was not good and very out of date, even by then). As Ellie sat down on the grass, my perverse self glimpsed up her sundress and saw light pink boyshorts. Halfway through the DJ’s setlist, Cory made a joking drinking game where we drank every time the DJ used the airhorn noise and, unsurprisingly, by the time he was done with his setlist, we were pretty drunk. A more talented and interesting rapper was up next, so we actually paid attention as Ellie and I sipped wine while Cory started on her third (!!) beer. After the rapper was done, while we were waiting for the next artist, I joked at Cory, “Wow, you gotta slow down, you’re gonna finish that beer before we’re halfway through.” Cory laughed. “I need it! These end of the year projects are killing me. My groups are all idiots!” Ellie nodded. “Group projects always means you’re gonna carry all the weight and everyone else freeloads.” Cory added, “Besides, you two are almost done with that first bottle. Don’t attack me before looking at yourselves!” It was true, I was feeling quite tipsy and I suspect Ellie was the same. We had now gone probably three hours drinking non-stop (and Ellie and Cory came straight from class, so who knows when was the last time they had gone to the bathroom!), and despite Cory’s iron bladder, I suspected they would be desperate soon. A look with my “power” confirmed - Ellie was at around 70% full while Cory was at 75%. There weren’t exactly bathrooms out in the park, so I wondered if I would finally see my girlfriend and her hot friend desperate. After some chatting and drinking, another artist came on. I didn’t pay much attention, though, as I furtively checked Ellie and Cory’s bladders as the show went on. They were into the musician and didn’t show any signs of desperation, but I saw as their bladder got more and more full. It was fascinating to have two girls to compare. It seemed Ellie, despite starting at a lower number, was getting desperate faster than Cory, and by the time Cory hit 80%, Ellie had caught up and was at 80% as well. It wasn’t just my imagination that Cory had a stronger bladder than average. I could tell Cory was feeling the effects, even if she showed no outward sign of desperation, because she had significantly slowed her drinking. By the time the third artist was finished, Cory was at 85% and Ellie had surged past to 90%. I was feeling rather… frisky knowing, secretly, that they both had to pee, and I put my arm around Cory and kissed her on the cheek. She was probably feeling that, too, in part because of how much she drank, and kissed me back on the lips deeply. Ellie groaned. “Ugh, stop showing off, you know I’m single.” Cory laughed. “You could pull in boys like that, you know?” “Yeah, but most boys are trash. Besides, I gotta pee.” Damn, I thought. This is where common sense comes in and they go find a bathroom together. Hell, even I had to pee a bit, I had been drinking right alongside them, though not as much as Cory (heaven knows I would never win a holding contest against her if we tried). However, as luck would have it, Cory knew the next artist. “After her setlist we’ll find a bathroom, okay?” Ellie groaned again. “Fine. She better be good!” She was actually very good. She was a singer and rapper and dancer, and it was pretty impressive to me to do all that as a single artist on stage. I didn’t pay that much attention, though, because Ellie was showing clear signs of desperation now. First it was the legs fidgeting, then the constant changing of seating (first she sat with her two legs on her right, then on her left, then she sat directly on her legs). She was stuck switching between two or three positions, though, since she was wearing a dress and couldn’t risk flashing everyone. Soon, though, she was blatantly putting her hand in her crotch. I had my arm around Cory and she was doing a better job hiding it, but I could tell she was a little tense and even felt her flex her lower muscles a couple times. She sat cross-legged for a while, but the open legs clearly wasn’t helpful so she switched to laying her legs straight ahead and crossing one over the other. When the artist Cory knew was finished, Ellie jumped to her feet, giving me another glimpse of her pink panties. No sign of wetness… yet. She was at 95% of her bladder capacity. That would be considered an emergency; given how desperate she was, she was honestly more subdued than I expected. Cory stood up, too, knowing what Ellie wanted, though not as urgently. As she got up, her shirt rode up and I could see a white thong peeking above the hemline of her somewhat low cut shorts. Since I had never seen her truly desperate before despite dating for more than half a year at that point, I loved the idea of her having to pee so badly. We wandered around the park for a few minutes and realized there were no bathrooms around. Ellie finally snapped and showed how desperate she was, crossing her legs and doubling over. Cory, ever the leader, decided to lead us back towards the bars we came from. It was late enough that other businesses, like coffeeshops and restaurants, were closed already. Ellie now was desperate enough to be stopping occasionally and crossing her legs, which led to Cory turning around and impatiently tapping her feet, waiting for her and showing just a hint of her own desperation. As Ellie’s desperation stops got more frequent, I put my arms around Cory again and rubbed her back to calm her down. It worked, and as Ellie started stopping every few feet, I began to use these breaks to kiss Cory. That definitely worked to distract Cory from her own desperation and Ellie’s slow progress. As we passed an alley, Ellie stopped yet again and this time blatantly shoved her hands in her crotch and doubled over. I saw she was at 99%. The sight was too much for Cory, who finally showed real signs of her desperation at a wild 95%. She crossed her legs on the spot. I was very excited watching this and pulled Cory in for a kiss yet again, which she still responded hungrily to. My hand, on her back, descended down and gave her butt a squeeze and I could tell she was exercising her pelvic muscles, holding in her own bladder. She playfully pushed me aside, but then kissed me again. Behind us, we heard Ellie say, “Fuck it.” We broke off to look and saw her diving into the alley. We followed suit and I saw her hit 100% of her bladder capacity then it immediately start to decline. 99%... 98%... 95%... 90%... Now in the alley, she started to lift up her dress. I could see trickles rolling down her legs and a full stream creating a puddle between her legs. She fully lifted her dress above her waist and I saw her pink boyshorts with a growing dark spot in the front, glistening as a stream practically fell out of her. Seeing as she was already wetting herself, she resigned to just standing there and finished peeing right through her panties. Cory and I just stared in surprise. I was so horny watching this absurdly attractive woman hold up her dress and pee on the spot and I realized that we were in public and anyone would be able to tell how I was feeling… Ellie looked at us and raised an eyebrow at me, but I think she assumed it was because I was just making out with Cory, fortunately for me. Watching Ellie pee was clearly tough for Cory, because she put her hand in her crotch and crossed her legs while bouncing subtly. I had never seen her do that. Wanting her to be comfortable more than wanting to see her wet herself, I said, “You can pop a squat if you want. I’ll cover you.” She shook her head. “I can wait till we get home.” Ellie at this point had finished peeing, and she looked mournfully at her wet legs and wet panties. “I think I need to go home and change.” Cory, not wanting to leave her friend alone, but also wanting to get there as quickly as possible, suggested getting an Uber ride. We agreed, but to save on cost, Cory ordered an Uber pool, which carpooled us with other people headed in the same direction. As the bars were beginning to get into full swing, we got a ride pretty quickly. As it pulled up, we could see there was someone in the front and someone in the pack of the sedan. The driver rolled down his window and said, “Hey, Uber pools are for two people only! All three of you won’t fit.” Cory brushed him off. “Don’t worry, I’ll just sit on my boyfriend’s lap.” The driver, wanting the money, shrugged his shoulders and let us enter. The very idea of my desperate girlfriend sitting on my lap was getting me excited, but I tried to stay calm as Ellie sat in the middle, her accident hidden from the other passengers, while I sat down and Cory sat directly on my lap. Cory was at 99%... Cory tried to sit still, given that two of the passengers and the driver were total strangers, but I could feel her flex her muscles as she held everything in. Eventually, it got too much and she crossed her legs and began to squirm right on my crotch. She would lean left then right, shaking her right leg while it was over her left leg. Truly, it was her desperation that caused me to have an erection, but at least I could blame it on her squirming right on me. She definitely felt it, and I could tell she began to rub her butt on it intentionally. I loved the fact that she was clearly horny too despite having to pee so badly. I had my arms around her loosely, but as I got turned on again, I subtly moved my left arm, which was away from the other passengers, into her crotch between her crossed legs and covered it up with my right hand. I pressed against her, on the premise of helping her hold it in, and she rewarded me by pushing her butt particularly firmly against me. Eventually, this escalated to me moving my fingers in a circle, trying to tease her through the denim. I heard her softly gasp, but she grinded her butt against me, silently asking me to keep going. I looked around, and the other two passengers were oblivious, but it seemed Ellie was looking on in interest. Rather than seeming disgusted, she seemed to look on longingly, like she wanted in on the action. I loved the idea that she actually found us attractive, since I thought she was a bit out of my league, so I kept going despite knowing we were discovered. A few minutes later, the other two passengers got dropped off. Cory didn’t even really seem to notice, staring ahead without focus as her cheeks and her ears got redder as she got hornier. With the other two passengers leaving, Ellie moved over and I could see a damp spot on the middle. Her underwear must have gotten her dress, and eventually the seat, wet. Cory didn’t bother to get off me, though, as the driver made the last leg to Ellie’s apartment, and I got more brazen. I switched hands, then moved my left hand up her shirt and slipped beneath her bra and began to play with her nipple, which I knew was very sensitive for her. She gasped, louder this time, but the driver was oblivious. Ellie stared hungrily on, clearly enjoying the show. Cory had hit 100% of her capacity at this point, and the situation was such a turn on I was afraid I would cum in my pants as she grinded her butt against me. Eventually, the inevitable happened. I felt a sudden warm wetness against my fingers as I saw her drop to 99%. She pushed particularly hard against me and used her hands to press my fingers harder into her, and this combination was too much for me. I knew she could feel me pulsate as I came right into my jeans, too horny to care about the embarrassment. Cory, both feeling that and my fingers, came as well, and she moaned softly as she tried to hide what was happening from the driver (Ellie knew full well what was happening). Cumming was too much for her, and she started to spurt against my fingers. I felt each one second spurt align with her orgasmic contractions, wetting her denim before rolling down to her butt and onto my own jeans. At 80%, she held it in, which was good so we didn’t mess up the Uber, but I could feel my front being completely wet from both her and myself. After we came down from that high, we arrived at Ellie’s apartment and breathlessly thanked the driver before stepping out. I looked down and saw Cory’s butt darkened and completely wet, along with the front of my jeans. It honestly looked like both of us peed ourselves (I did rather have to go, but nothing like the girls). Standing on the sidewalk, Cory announced, “Fuck holding it in any longer.” She started to pee, spreading her legs so it would go straight down and not into her shoes. Since she was no longer sitting, the wet spot grew on her front as a stream fell straight down. I could hear the hiss as she forced it all out. If I hadn’t just came, I would have been totally hard, but fortunately I could hide my fetish this time. Cory eventually finished peeing, her butt totally soaked and her front having a spot the size of a dinner plate that went down to the edges of her shorts. A puddle was beneath her several feet wide. She must have had a huge bladder. Ellie commented, “Damn girl, how much pee can you hold?” Cory laughed. “I haven’t peed since I woke up this morning!” Holy shit, I thought. Eventually, Ellie unlocked the front door to her apartment and we all went in. We followed Ellie up the stairs (giving me a good shot of her still wet pink boyshorts and the back of her dress, which indeed looked damp) and into her apartment, which was an efficiency she lived in by herself. Ellie announced, “I gotta change.” Since I had to pee and wanted to give Ellie privacy (well, I didn’t WANT to, I just knew that was the nice thing to do), I said that I would go to the bathroom. Cory pulled me in. “Oh no you don’t.” “What?!” “We both peed our pants, you’re staying here.” “You can’t make me.” Cory grabbed my wet crotch. “I bet I can convince you.” She began full on making out with me, clearly still horny. I couldn’t believe it. Ellie couldn’t either, but she looked on excitedly as Cory pushed me onto a futon and straddled me, kissing me the whole time. I was quickly hard again, and Cory grabbed my crotch as she made out with me. I was kissing her back enthusiastically and then ripped off her shirt, not caring that Ellie was right there. Ellie had not changed and was staring at us, mouth agape. I quickly took off Cory’s white bra, showing off her somewhat small but pert breasts, her nipples sticking out as I played with them. She moaned, louder now that she wasn’t in public, before pulling me off the futon so that she could undress me down to my boxers. She followed suit, pulling off her shorts and I saw her white thong in full glory, wet almost all the way up to the hemline. She got on her knees and pulled my boxers down and began to blow me. I glanced over at Ellie, and to my shock, she was sitting on her bed with the front of her dress up as she fingered herself inside her wet panties. The sight was too much and I knew I would cum very quickly, so I gently pulled Cory away and sat her down before moving her wet thong aside and eating her out. I loved that I could smell the acrid pee on her thong. After a few minutes, Cory pulled me on the futon, completely ignoring Ellie, and pulled off her thong and began to have sex with me. I could see Ellie still masturbating past Cory, and the combination of witnessing them wet themselves, having sex, and seeing Ellie masturbate was too much and I came in Cory, pulling her across the finish line as she came again, but this time loudly. The sight must have been too exciting for Ellie, as I saw her flush red as she moaned, as well, I suspect having orgasmed at the sight of us. Eventually, the excitement died down and Cory got off me, embarrassed as she realized what we had done in front of her friend. She looked down, not making eye contact, and muttered, “Uh… sorry… got carried away.” Ellie smiled. “You have nothing to apologize for. Besides, we all need a shower…” With that, I finally got to go pee and we all laughingly showered together. Nothing sexual happened, which is good, since Cory and I were committed to each other at the time, but that night was the greatest sexual experience in my life, and it was spurred on by two accidents in one day. skywalker58, pickle313, Mrgala21 and 7 others 10 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted May 29, 2019 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted May 29, 2019 Damn that was fantastic I loved the double desperation herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
Holdit4me 127 Posted May 29, 2019 Share Posted May 29, 2019 Great stories, all of them! herrokitty 1 Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted June 3, 2019 Author Share Posted June 3, 2019 I'm working on a somewhat ambitious story, but I wrote a short one while I was working on that, so here it is. Just a short made up anecdote. Senior year was a wild one from a desperation standpoint. Before I explain that, let me tell a quick anecdote from graduation, because the rest of senior year might take a while to tell. I witnessed one accident at graduation. I’m surprised I don’t hear more stories of it - hundreds, sometimes thousands of people stuck in a long ceremony (and often hungover and chugging water…). Anyway, I was lucky because the girl it happened to was sitting next to me. Her name was Rosie, a half-Black half-Latina woman and she was wearing an outfit much like this and looked much like her as well, showing off her midriff. I could see her outfit as we lined up to enter the auditorium and take our seats because she had come in late and hurried into position in front of me, zipping up her graduation gown (our colors were blue) over the outfit. I knew her briefly because we shared one class our junior year so I said a quick hello and she returned it with a quick and distracted hello. Lots of people party the night before graduation and I wonder if she was running late after a late night. Curiosity piqued, I checked her bladder (easy since she was in front of me) and saw she was at 80% capacity. I had enough experience at this point to know I might be in for a show. She finished zipping up her gown and we were immediately ushered into the front of the auditorium to take our seats as the ceremony began, no time for her to find a bathroom. Immediately upon sitting, Rosie crossed her legs tightly. Unfortunately for her, we immediately had to stand as the university president entered to give the introductory address. She winced as she stood, keeping her legs crossed. I imagined how tightly she was clutching her muscles under her graduation gown. We sat as the president spoke, a boring and cliché address that he probably repeated every year with tired trivia about our college and pleas for us to be “active alumni.” Rosie looked even more bored than me, her legs not only crossed but now bouncing up and down, her hands at her sides gripping her chair. Someone glancing at her would assume boredom; I knew it was more than just that. By the time the president finished, she was at 85% of her capacity. It would be touch and go for her… After the president was the student speaker. I had no idea who he was and his speech was similarly boring and rote. Something about being proud of each other and our accomplishments and how important this school was for us. I was just excited for thousands of dollars of tuition finally paying off in the form of being sort of qualified for a job that might not be as meaningless as some. And, at the moment, it was more interesting to side-eye the ever more desperate Rosie. At one particularly corny line, Rosie groaned. Others assumed she just disliked the speaker, who was genuinely bad, but I saw she had just hit 90%. She was now bent over, in addition to her shaking crossed legs and hands gripping her seat. Finally… the speaker was done. Unfortunately, graduation is all pomp and circumstance, and there was yet another speaker, the keynote, before we could get our degrees. The speaker was a former student who now played professional sport, the closest our school had to a celebrity graduate. He was okay, but again - corny, stereotypical, not interesting. Certainly not engaging enough for Rosie, who I saw creep up in percentage as the speaker went on. 91%. 92%. 93%. Sweat was forming on her forehead. She stared straight ahead, zoned out and not focused. Even if the speaker was interesting, there’s no way she would be paying attention. At 96%, the keynote finally ended. She finally smiled and applauded along with the others, probably seeing the end was near and she could soon go to the bathroom. However, she was mistaken, as now the students earning PhDs and Masters degrees lined up to be brought on stage and handed their degrees. There were probably a hundred students before we could even line up to get ours. I saw Rosie’s face fall and eyebrows furrow with worry as she realized the setup. I tried to make small talk. “This ceremony is so boring… I paid thousands of dollars, I just want to get my degree and go.” Rosie nodded. “Honestly, I’m hungover as shit, too. We stayed out until 4 AM last night.” So… no admitting you had to pee, too. “Damn, what bar was open that late?!” “We went to a house party… big mistake. I’m wearing the outfit I went out last night, I just threw on my graduation gown when I got up and ran here.” “Well… you look pretty good for rolled out of bed and hungover.” She smiled, thankfully, and didn’t think my flirtatious comment was over the line. “Thanks… UGH how many graduate students do we have? Don’t go to grad school here, we’re not that good.” I laughed at that. She was now at 98% and rocking back and forth. The line of graduate students still paraded through stage, each person stopping to pick up their diploma and shake the president’s hand. It was moving for their family, I’m sure (mine out in the crowd somewhere, too), but so incredibly boring to watch. The rocking was a bit more noticeable, and I wondered if she was getting to a point where other people would notice. Fortunately for her, as she hit 99%, it was our turn to get up and line up backstage to wait for our turn to cross the stage. She stood up and stiffly shuffled her way along the line as I followed, pretending to stare at my own feet when really I was staring at her and waiting for her to lose control. As we reached back stage and came to a halt, waiting to be sent on stage, I saw her hit 100%. Now that we were standing still, her legs returned to their crossed position. She had to be close to losing it. As it was, that was when she lost it. I was so glad she was in front of me so I could stare at her without anyone noticing and keep her number visible. Before the first undergraduate was even announced across the stage, I saw her drop to 98%. I looked down, but saw nothing yet. As it dropped to 95% a few seconds later, I saw the first droplets roll down the back of her lower leg, which was just visible past the hem of her gown. She slowly uncrossed her legs and stood with them slightly apart as I saw a steady stream begin to fall. I could hear the faintest hiss and trickle as it hit the growing puddle beneath her, but no one not paying attention would likely notice in the dark backstage. The names began to be called out as the people at the front of the alphabet began crossing the stage. Rosie shuffled forward, still peeing. People were cycling through quickly and we were roughly in the first 25% of the alphabet, so we got all the way to the edge of the stage before I saw her stream die out completely. It was a long piss, probably over a minute (and she was likely trying to keep it from being full strength, to be fair). I saw she was still at 30% when she stopped, a small puddle leading to her feet going back about 15 feet. I had to imagine someone noticed wet spots on the ground, but I guess without context one would assume spilled water. She had no obvious tell she had just done the deed and confidently grabbed her diploma and walked out on stage, shaking the president’s hand and waving to the crowd before exiting off stage. I was grateful for the gown which hid my otherwise visible excitement over what I had witnessed. I grabbed my diploma and walked out on stage. With the bright lights, I saw there were still small droplets on the ground, probably drops falling from her wet legs (and presumably her underwear). The brazenness of her… I was impressed. I shook the president’s hand, who was none the wiser, and exited. By the time I had exited, I saw she was running off backstage, likely to a bathroom. I didn’t see her again until after the ceremony outside, where she was posing for pictures with friends and family. I could see she had unzipped her gown and her crop top and skirt were on full display but there was no sign of wetness. She had gotten away with it! I wondered if she was wearing a wet pair of underwear or if she threw them away. Both thoughts excited me. It was an enjoyable end to my college life, that was for sure, and I admit I may have looked at her social media photos from her graduation after that, knowing what she had done just an hour before those pictures were taken. drthunder, Trickling Down and Keita123 3 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted June 4, 2019 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted June 4, 2019 That was fantastic Quote Link to comment
Zorb 32 Posted June 4, 2019 Share Posted June 4, 2019 On 5/11/2019 at 5:47 AM, Alex Oxford said: Why we gotta quote the whole damn story 😂 I have an extension I've coded for this site with many features, one of them is merely deleting peoples posts if they're more than 70% quotation and exceed 100 words. Same goes for posts that quote large pictures with a 3-word reply. Quote Link to comment
Aloe 580 Posted June 4, 2019 Share Posted June 4, 2019 2 hours ago, Zorb said: I have an extension I've coded for this site with many features, one of them is merely deleting peoples posts if they're more than 70% quotation and exceed 100 words. Same goes for posts that quote large pictures with a 3-word reply. Jesus Christ it’s Jason Bourne joebarnes and herrokitty 2 Quote Link to comment
herrokitty 495 Posted June 5, 2019 Author Share Posted June 5, 2019 So I organized this story a little different, it’s a fiction based on living with some girls for a whole year. Also, just a reminder that the behavior of the first person protagonist is often creepy and not acceptable in real life, so please don’t interpret my stories as me endorsing this kind of behavior lol. This is fantasy, after all. This story was inspired by a series called The Best Place I Ever Lived In on a Tumblr site called The Yellow Safe. The reason why senior year will take a while to explain is that up until senior year, I lived by myself. Senior year, through happenstance, I lived with four girls. And somehow, I witnessed all of them have accidents. Between that and the sex at the end of junior year, my life may have peaked. I, of course, did my best to be a respectful and not creepy roommate… but I’m not sure I always succeeded. What had happened was a good friend from the student newspaper and fellow journalism major, Yannelly, had agreed to live in a house with three other girls but they were looking for a final roommate. Desperate to sign the lease before someone else swooped it up, she asked me to join and I did without hesitation. Yannelly was model-level beautiful, a Latina woman who looked like this model, but we bonded easily at the paper over similar opinions on social justice, where journalism should go, and a whole variety of issues. We also worked well together, often working on similar or parallel political coverage. We were also the same year in school. The other three were friends of Yannelly. One was a black girl named Amy, who was a bit curvier than Yannelly. I knew Amy, too, and we had mutual friends and got along before living together (she was a big activist and thought I covered her issues well on the paper), though we weren’t close before senior year. She was a year younger. Veronica, who was model pretty and also on the curvy side, I had met before at some house parties - she used to be a big party-goer (which is how she met Yannelly) and was in the same year as Yannelly and myself. Lastly, there was Lauren, who became friends with Yannelly through a class. She was a year younger and was the only one I hadn’t met before, but the other three vouched for me. I know it seems ridiculous, but if I were to compare Lauren to someone in terms of looks, it would probably be Kendall Jenner (though she, fortunately, did not have the personality of one of the Jenner/Kardashian sisters). I won’t lie, I was pretty excited to live with such attractive women, but my main focus was the cheap rent and being a good roommate. In fact, I wanted to prove as a guy, I could be a normal and not creepy roommate. I hadn’t anticipated, even remotely, witnessing what I did that year. We were a surprisingly good mix for people who didn’t know each other well and ended up all close friends over the course of the year. We had movie nights, did chores and went grocery shopping together, often walked to campus together, and generally hung out (and since Veronica had a car, we often carpooled to different places, like late night food runs). I got to know all of them really well, ranging from their social lives and hobbies (Veronica loved The Office, Amy was a nature lover, Yannelly and Lauren worked out regularly, and they all partied like stereotypical college students) to their boyfriends (and sometimes girlfriends for Lauren!) and their sexual proclivities. Yannelly was still a party hound and would regularly bring home boys for very loud, often slightly drunken sex, which the rest of us would often proceed to poke fun at the next morning after the guy had slipped out. Her, Lauren, and Amy loved to gossip about sex and masturbation. I kept my mouth shut to not be a creep, but secretly I loved listening to them talk about that kind of stuff. Lauren was seeking more of a dating situation, but aside from a few flings, nothing stuck for her first semester and she complained regularly her only dependable partner was her trusty collection of vibrators, which she showed off proudly. In fact, since she had the bedroom next to mine, I could hear her masturbate, though I of course did not tell her (in part so I could continue to enjoy hearing it!). While Amy loved to gossip with them and was very open-minded, she lived her personal life more conservatively. She was often out of the house in the wilderness with her boyfriend who she had all through that year. Veronica was more of a mystery; she grew up a bit more insular and while supportive of her housemates’ lifestyles, I never once heard her give detail about her own sex life. Her refusal to admit un-ladylike habits extended to never talking about her bathroom habits, which made it more exciting whenever I did notice she was at her limit (since whether they behave like they’re desperate or not, my power meant I could see where they were really at!). Veronica, in addition to being the least upfront about desperation, seemed to have the best control. She seemed to always come home from class or parties or events with her bladder 80-90% full and sometimes her bowels similarly high, but I rarely saw her actually not make it. Sometimes, she would come home and not even go to the bathroom right away, cooking herself dinner or doing a chore as I surreptitiously watched. She would be at 90% of her bladder capacity and just stand there in the kitchen over the stove and cook as if she wasn’t minutes away from pissing herself. She would finally pee in the 95-98% range. The first time I had any inclination that she, too, had the occasional accident like the other girls was in late October. It was one of the last warm days and she had gone out to the bars with some friends of hers to enjoy the warm weather. She was wearing a sundress like the one in the earlier picture. Similar to that picture, her curvaceousness and big butt meant the dress always seemed a bit shorter. When she went up the stairs wearing sundresses, I realized from the bottom of the stairs I could always catch a glimpse of her butt and underwear, though I tried to not take advantage of that too often. This one day, though, she came home and was 0% of her bladder capacity. She regularly held it in public, so this surprised me. After she said hi she went upstairs and I followed her to go into my room. Looking up, what I saw was both surprising and unsurprising. Her full cut gray panties were soaked, going halfway up her butt. Her legs were dry so she must have cleaned up or wasn’t standing when she went. I was deeply curious about what happened but obviously had no way of broaching the subject. Later in the evening, it was clear she had changed out of it and that was that. You might think three months into living with each other is actually pretty early to witness an accident, but I quickly found out desperation was common for these four girls. Amy was, frankly, lazy and seemed to always procrastinate. This meant she often seemed to come home desperate, probably having run out of time to use the bathroom while out, and sometimes it meant leaving the house desperate because she didn’t give herself enough time to use the bathroom (there was only one for all five of us). Yannelly just seemed to have poor control, actually. I realized quickly that she regularly came home and went directly to the bathroom before going directly to the bedroom to change because she often only mostly made it. She also had one helluva metabolism and seemed to always be stinking up the bathroom, not that you want to hear about that, but it seemed she was always desperate. It was funny to me that she was, because I had never noticed before when working with her at the paper and she was a very determined person who took herself quite seriously as well (before going into journalism, she wanted to be in government and regularly went to student organization meetings well into the night on weekdays). Lauren seemed more like Veronica at first, with no seeming out of the ordinary desperation or accidents until a certain situation late into the first semester that I’ll get to. My first inclination that I had accidentally roomed with girls who were particularly attractive for my… preferences was literally a week into living together in early August. Since school hadn’t started back up yet, we were doing a lot of socializing and partying together, in part to get to know each other. One night, we all went out to a friend’s house party but most of us came home early. Yannelly stayed out late and I had no idea when she got home but when she did she must have passed out on the couch because I saw her there, out cold, when I came downstairs for my breakfast. She was wearing a short black dress like this one. She was passed out lying stomach down and in her passed out state, the back had ridden up somewhat and her left leg was hanging off the couch, spreading them apart. As I turned to go to the kitchen, I could see directly up her dress and saw a pair of simple, translucent pair of full cut white panties. What most intrigued me, though, was what seemed to be a stain. I furtively looked around to make sure no one else was awake and around and walked closer to her. I’m not proud of doing this, but I squatted down so I could directly see her underwear and saw her entire gusset to halfway up the back of her underwear was a clear yellow stain. She must have fully pissed herself at some point last night before she got home to pass out. Excited but not wanting to be caught, I went to the kitchen and went about my day. At some point as I was eating breakfast she woke up and muttered hello before sauntering up the stairs, clearly very hungover. Partying certainly didn’t go well with continence. We hosted a party at the beginning of the school year and the morning after I saw Amy rush down the hall into the basement where our laundry was with the clothing she was wearing last night. I had my suspicions and snuck into her bedroom. Sure enough, her bed had a wet spot about three feet in diameter. I quickly hurried out before she returned, since I’m sure her next goal was to wash her bedding. Similarly, a couple weeks later Yannelly came home from working out while I was on the living room couch watching TV. She muttered hi and rushed past me to the stairwell, and I could have sworn her leggings were glistening a little. She joined me on the couch in athletic shorts a few minutes later. I really felt like I could smell just a hint of acrid pee, but I didn’t say anything. Later, I checked her laundry pile while she was out of her room and found, hidden under a top layer of clothes, a pair of very wet leggings. They indeed smelled of urine. I wondered if Yannelly had an accident while working out, which wasn’t unheard of, and just walked home. Indeed, at the beginning of October, I witnessed the first accident first-hand and it was Yannelly. It wasn’t a big one, but on Mondays I didn’t have any late classes or newspaper related meetings, so unless I had something to cover I was home first. This Monday, Yannelly was home next. She had a presentation for a class so was dressed a little fancier in a dress much like this. I was in the living room scrolling through some homework on my computer with the TV on when I heard the rattling of a key and the door burst open and slam shut as Yannelly kicked off her shoes. I suspected immediately and checked; 96% full… which suddenly dropped to 95% continued to drop. I pretended to look at my laptop as I watched. She frantically dropped her backpack by the front door and speed-walked to the stairs, presumably to the bathroom. As she came in full view, I saw glistening streaks along her tan legs before she disappeared up the stairs. By the time she left my view she was down to 80%. When I heard the bathroom door shut, I immediately headed over to the front door. Unsurprisingly, I saw droplets and little puddles leading from the door to the stairwell. They continued up the stairs and down the hall, but I went into my room rather than get closer to the bathroom so as to not arouse suspicion. I suspected Yannelly would want to clean up and didn’t want to do that with me watching. When I saw her next that evening she was dressed in casual clothing and there was no evidence of wetness on the floor. It turns out this would be a regular occurence. A couple weeks later, on a Sunday morning, Yannelly came home from spending the night either passed out from a party or a hook-up, dressed in this very revealing dress (with similar underwear). I was vegging out on the couch (a common occurrence on the weekend), having spent the night in. Again, she came bursting in and stumbled up the stairs. I could see the numbers go down, 90%, 89%, 88%, as she disappeared up the stairs, along with the rivulets down her legs. This time, I was too lazy to make my exit and continued to lounge on my couch. A few minutes later, Yannelly reappeared wearing a tank top and sweatpants. I wondered what she would do about the trail of piss from the door to the hallway. As she came in, she dragged her feet slightly and I realized she was wearing socks and was subtly soaking up the droplets with her socks. She muttered a hungover hi to me, grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, and walked back up. I was impressed by her ingenuity, though maybe this had happened before. Over the course of the year, I saw this pee-while-running-to-the-bathroom routine a whopping four more times from Yannelly, once in purple athletic shorts where I saw rivulets along her legs as she rushed home from the gym, once in jeans that left a small wet spot visible before she disappeared to the bathroom and her room to change, and once in a romper like this that very visibly showed her growing wet spot. I had to sneak in to her laundry pile after that time because I couldn’t believe she would have mostly made it with the difficulty of taking that off. I wasn’t wrong, as the romper in her laundry pile, unlike the tennis ball sized wet spot when I saw her enter the house, now had a wet spot in the front the size of a dinner plate. *messing mention* The last occurrence was in leggings, and this time not only did I see her black leggings glisten as her bladder counted down from 99% to 90% in front of me, I saw as she entered her bowels were at 100% and then 95% by the time she passed me. I swiveled my head to follow her and saw just a hint of a bulge the size of a golf ball by the time she reached the stairs, her bowels reduced to 90%. Oh, actually, as an aside, I did once see Veronica, who almost never displayed any poop desperation, come home from a jog late in the spring and was similarly turtleheading as she entered. Her workout leggings looked like this and the tightness along with her curvaceous butt meant despite it only being a little bit out, I could clearly see the bulge as she rushed up the stairs. Back to Yannelly, another time, she came home from a night out wearing that dress from earlier. I was grabbing a late night snack from the kitchen when she burst in. At this point, when one of my roommates burst in with such urgency, I always automatically checked if they were desperate. This time I saw she was only at 50% of her bladder capacity and 0% of her bowel capacity. I couldn’t figure out why she was so urgent until I smelled a faint smell of poop. She said a quick hello as if nothing was wrong and proceeded to the staircase. Given the sheerness of the dress, I saw very obviously the bulge in her full black panties. Afterwards, as usual, she changed and acted like nothing was wrong. She must have decided not to go at the party and pooped herself on the way home. I wondered if anyone saw; a translucent dress is never a good option to hide your accident. *messing mention end* It was funny how different Amy was the first time I witnessed this almost-accident happen to her, since her personality was much more down to earth. This was a chilly fall day, and she burst through the door in tight black jeans and a blue college sweater. Amy in tight jeans always had that effect of thick thighs but with a thigh gap due to the tightness of the pants, and that was always secretly a look I liked. Like Yannelly, she frantically threw off her tennis shoes and rushed to the staircase. I knew at this point to just immediately check and saw she was at 95% of her bladder capacity and dropping by the second. Despite the black jeans, I could see a glistening circle about the size of a tennis ball on the front and in behind when she started going up the stairs. Unlike Yannelly, afterwards Amy came back downstairs with a towel to wipe up the floor, not hiding what she was doing in front of me (and still wearing her black jeans). I feigned ignorance. “Amy, what are you doing?” She looked up. “Well, to be honest, I’m cleaning this trail of piss I left behind.” I started laughing at her openness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry that happened. I’m just glad you didn’t leave it to someone else to clean or something.” “Don’t worry about it, it is kinda funny. I just didn’t bother to go during class and afterwards I didn’t want to walk and saw the bus right outside so I just jumped on… but I shouldn’t have put it off because I started peeing the moment I got to our door.” She walked up to me. “Can you see?” If only she realized how exciting this was for me. “Oh yeah, I can kind of see a darker patch… it’s like perfectly round.” She looked down and chuckled. “Oh yeah, it is.” “Good thing you’re wearing black pants so if anyone saw you from the outside they wouldn’t notice. So… you gonna change or you just gonna keep wearing those?” “Honestly, it’s tempting… it’s too much effort to change… but I should. Besides, my boyfriend Ryan is coming after he’s done with class, I wouldn’t want him to see. I’ll change after I clean up the floor.” That’s what she proceeded to do. I saw her again that semester have a similar minor accident in this outfit. It stuck out in my mind because that time she didn’t change and despite the fact I knew she peed a little, she spent the rest of the evening in that skirt. By the end of the night, with all the sitting and moving around, the only sign she was still wearing wet panties there was a tiny wet spot on the back of her skirt, but she generally got away with it. I only noticed because I was looking for a sign. At one point she was sitting across the living room from me and when she adjusted her seat, I saw a pair of yellow panties with a darkened crotch, confirming my suspicion that she hadn’t changed. One night towards the end of the first semester when we had all become friends, we were all hanging out to watch a movie. It was a comedy, but it wasn’t that funny. We did spend the movie making fun of the characters and dumb plot. I don’t remember what the comment was, exactly, but with all the jokes and laughing, Lauren said something that just made us snap. We were literally on the floor laughing for a minute. Amy, who was wearing overalls and an outfit like this, suddenly shouted out between wheezes, “I’m peeing!” I looked up from the floor where I was sitting and could see. Each renewed laugh was accompanied by a few percentages dropping. She repeated herself, dropping from 90% to 88% to 85% between words. “I… can’t… stop!” The situation made everyone laugh harder. Veronica kept some sense to her and said, “Get off the couch! Don’t mess up the couch!” Amy got up, but doubled over with laughter and desperation as she tried to shuffle to the bathroom. Now I could see a growing wet spot. Wet streams appeared along the inside of her overall legs. Halfway to the stairs, she tried to preemptively take off her overalls, undoing the suspender-esque belts. As the front and back fell away, she kicked off her overalls and stood in front of us in a black thong. I could see her pee at full strength at this point, running down her legs and also going straight down onto her crumpled overalls. She gave up and turned around, shouting, “It’s too late, I can’t hold it!” I tried not to show how amazed I was to watch a wet stream shoot out of her thong. Everyone else was now laughing even harder at the ridiculousness of the situation, but eventually Amy finished peeing and the rest of us got control of our laughter (and me of something else). Amy picked up her drenched overalls mournfully. “I guess I should clean this up…” Lauren stood up to help. “No worries, this happens to everyone. Once, in high school, my friends and I tried to hide to jump out and scare our friend as a prank and her reaction was so over the top I peed my pants laughing. I’m sure you’ve all peed your pants, right?” I shook my head no. Veronica also claimed she didn’t pee her pants (which definitely wasn’t true!). Lauren pouted. “Okay, perfect people, you don’t count. Yannelly, back me up here.” Yannelly never admitted those desperate small accidents, so I wondered how she would handle it. She was plenty open about sex but weirdly too uptight to talk about her bladder regularly, but she defied my expectations revealed perhaps the most inappropriate story yet. “Well… umm… actually, once I was hooking up with a guy and I had to pee but I didn’t want to ruin the mood… and I actually peed a little during sex. The guy thought I had squirted so he didn’t know but I knew it wasn’t that.” Lauren confessed, “At least you got away with it. Once I didn’t go after class and came home and didn’t quite make it and THIS GUY over here was just hanging out and saw the whole thing and even saw me have to clean up…” I replied, “That was nothing compared to this! But you’re among friends, no one here is judging. Who knows when any of us will piss ourselves in front of each other…” That caused us all to start laughing again before we all chipped in to help Amy clean up. Amy had another accident early second semester in front of me. The winter really hurt her motivation and she often rolled out of bed to go to class at the last second. On this day, Thursdays, we had class the same time and took the bus (to avoid walking in the snow) together to get to campus. This particular day, I was about to head out when I saw her door still closed. I banged on the door. “Amy! We gotta get to class!” Amy opened the door, clearly having woken up only five minutes ago and having just pulled up a pair of pants (black jeans like earlier) along with a white tee I suspect she had slept in. She threw on a coat and grabbed her backpack and we wordlessly walked to the bus stop, since Amy was barely awake yet, and sat down to wait. I then realized she was rather restless for a barely-awake person, shuffling her legs up and down. Right… she just got up and hadn’t used the bathroom. She was at… 90%. Wow. That was full. The ride to campus wasn’t far, though, since it was in theoretical walking distance, and there were plenty of bathrooms on campus, so I still expected her to make it. She grumbled, “Where is this damn bus?” “Amy. We’ve only been waiting like three minutes. It’ll be here.” “Why can’t we have like a train or streetcar system so we’d know exactly when it would be here.” “Damn, Amy, early in the morning for infrastructure policy proposals. You switching major to urban planning?” She laughed. “No… I just didn’t get a chance to pee before we left. I could NOT wake up this morning.” “Yeah… I noticed. That you couldn’t wake up, not that you had to pee.” Which was a lie. At this point the bus showed up so we got on and grabbed seats in the back together. She was at 95% of her bladder capacity, and her tight black jeans must have felt like they were relentlessly pushing in her ballooning bladder. She crossed her leg and stuck her left leg in her crotch under her backpack, though I could see what she was doing. I instinctively raised my eyebrow at the obvious desperation. She noticed and whispered, “I’m sorry, I have to go so bad, I feel like a little girl but I just have to literally hold it in.” Her words turned me on and I was glad I had my own backpack on my lap, but I didn’t let that on. “It’s a short bus ride, you’ll make it.” The bus had to stop at every single stop as college students universally chose the bus on this winter day rather than walk, so it was slow progress. I watched as Amy squeezed her hand and legs tighter together as the number went up. 96% at the next bus stop. 97%. 98%. We were two bus stops away from Amy’s usual stop (I stopped the one after that) when she was at 100%. The bus was really full and we were surrounded, so I leaned in and whispered, “You doing okay?” She just shook her head no. As the bus took off, the jolt caused what I saw was a drop to 98%. She let out a meep but no other sign she had leaked was visible. As we braked for a traffic light, I saw that cause another drop to 95%. She held on until the next stop. However, as we departed from that, she started leaking at regular minute intervals. I began to see a shinier wet spot grow where her thighs met her crotch. At 90% it was like a golf ball. At 85% it was a tennis ball. At 80% it started elongating down her thighs. A minute away from her stop, disaster struck as I literally heard a hiss as she let out a five second leak that dropped her down to 65%. I looked down to see urine pool in-between her thighs between her hand and backpack before it slowly seeped down. She looked to me, panic in her eyes. “I’m pissing myself, what if people see?” Thinking fast, I whispered, “You’re wearing black jeans, no one will notice. I’ll get off this stop and walk right behind you to block it just in case.” “You sure? It’s not your stop.” “It’s literally a three minute walk to the next stop, I’ll be fine.” “Okay, thanks.” We arrived at the stop and Amy stood up and scooted past me out of our pair of seats. Her butt was directly in front of my face and I could see her whole butt was darker and glistening and I saw her seat was totally soaked. Fortunately, the padding meant it wasn’t a literal puddle, so it wouldn’t be obvious until some poor soul sat in it. Hopefully not for a few stops so no one would put together who had done it. I got up and followed Amy closely, awkwardly keeping my backpack in front of me to hide my arousal and to better block Amy’s butt, and we got off the bus without anyone noticing. Amy threw on her backpack and lowered it as far as it would go to cover up her butt. She turned to me. “Is it noticeable?” Looking right at her crotch, I could see the darker patch around it and going down almost to her knees, but it was only because I knew to look. As I looked, I saw a sudden glistening as she must have let a little bit more out. Her left hand, which was in her crotch, was obviously wet too. “I can tell because I’m looking for it, but it’ll dry soon and no one will notice. Do you want to skip class and change?” She shook her head no. “Can’t miss any more class…” I walked with her to her building, backpack now on my back and hopefully she wouldn’t notice my front. She lowered her voice and leaned in, “I gotta confess. I always put off going to the bathroom last minute and I love black jeans because if I leak no one will notice. But I think I full on pissed myself this time. This is, what, the third time I’ve pissed myself in front of you!” “Hey, no judgement. That’s what friends are for. Make sure to get my back when I inevitably piss myself at some point.” She laughed before heading to the bathroom. “You better get to class so you’re not late. Thanks, man.” I nodded and headed off. When I got home from my classes (and a newspaper meeting) I saw Amy was on the couch, still in her black jeans. I raised an eyebrow and she looked down and laughed. “Oh, yeah, when it dried off it was totally not noticeable so I got lazy and haven’t bothered to change. I got away with it, in part thanks to you!” I high-fived her and we didn’t talk about that incident again. Amy was in a committed relationship, but the other girls weren’t and that mattered twice in my time living with Yannelly and Veronica. Our relationships were generally platonic, but they had a sexual turn in conjunction with two accidents I witnessed. Yannelly sometimes did yoga in front of the TV in the living room when she didn’t want to go out to the gym, so late in the first semester during winter she did this quite often. She had a very stylish rotation of athletic clothes, and on this day was wearing a matching pair of leggings and sports bra. At this point, we were comfortable enough that I could be on the couch on my laptop and half-watching whatever show Yannelly was watching while she did yoga. I, of course, may have checked out her butt as she posed first face down kneeling and then with her butt in the air. She seemed to have noticed, and I don’t know if she was feeling horny that day, hadn’t hooked up a while, or what, but she seemed to play into it when she noticed and teased me by pointing her butt at me during various poses and holding some poses longer than others (not much time on planking… but seemingly much more time than should be warranted on down dog poses). She also regularly pulled her leggings up to keep it tightly wrapped around her butt. I kept an eye out on the show, but I didn’t pay much attention until about halfway through her workout when I saw her pause very briefly as her arm grabbed her crotch mid-lunge. She must have thought I wasn’t looking at that moment. I then saw she was working out at an 85% full bladder. Not accident-worthy in normal circumstances, but exercising puts strain on the muscles. I continued to work on a paper on my laptop but kept one eye on her. I didn’t see any accidents until she switched to a rather old school set of crunches (is that yoga at that point or just plain working out? I’m not an expert on these things). A couple crunches in, I saw the number drop from 86% to 84% when she lifted her upper body. She didn’t stop, though, and for fifteen reps I saw the number drop a percentage or two with each crunch. Her leggings had to be soaked in the crotch, but she was facing away from me and towards the TV. By the time she was done, though, she was down to 79%. She stuck her arms beneath her butt and began doing leg lifts. As she raised her legs, I saw a faint glistening on her crotch, more visible once in a while as she let out another spurt ery five or so reps. On her last rep, she peed a full 15% spurt down to 60% as her legs were in the air and I saw a trickle roll past her leggings and along her exposed abdomen. This seemed like her wake-up call because she immediately dropped her legs and got up, exposing a foot-wide puddle on her mat and a clear wet spot covering her whole butt. She quickly looked to me and I raised my eyebrow at her to signify I had seen what had happened. She froze before saying, “Oh my god, I peed while working out, I didn’t even notice until that last rep…” “Yeah… I noticed just now… but don’t worry about it I’m not judging.” “You just noticed? You weren’t looking that whole time?” “Uhh…” “Don’t worry, I don’t mind. In fact, I think I ought to help you keep this a secret…” She walked up to me and moved aside my laptop, which was hiding a now obvious boner in my jeans. “I thought so.” She grabbed it before unzipping my pants and slipping her hand inside. She straddled me on the couch and I had a straight view to her wet crotch before she started making out with me. She began stroking me and said, “This is me paying you to keep a secret. Is it enough?” Enough?! This was far too much payment! But I was fine with that and nodded. Despite the awkward angle, I managed to slip my hand in her very wet leggings and began to finger her. It wasn’t long before I could feel her cumming, which was accompanied by several spurts that directly hit my hand before soaking into her pants. The feeling of her literally peeing on me was too much and I came in my pants. She pulled her hand out and stood up, grinning. “Guess we both had accidents.” She winked at me before going to go clean up. We never talked about that incident again, but for the next couple of weeks I blushed a little when I saw her and she smiled knowingly at me. Early second semester, Veronica and I went to a house party together because a student org she was in was having a keg fundraiser (money for cups for alcohol went to the student org). Against school policy, but everyone did it. Despite the cold, Veronica dressed in a striped miniskirt and black top under her coat, which she took off immediately upon arriving at the party. I loved when she wore short dresses and skirts, because her curvaceous nature and big butt meant it always seemed to almost be too short. For the first half of the party, Veronica and I just drank and had a good time. However, around 11 PM, the volunteer collecting money asked if I would be willing to do it so he could have a drink. Grateful for an opportunity to sit down (in a nice armchair couch, no less!), I agreed. A few minutes later, Veronica came by to keep me company. She was clearly drunk, as evidenced by her trying to start toasts with the people I was collecting money from as they entered and drawing penises on their hands (gotta draw something to know who’s paid!). At one point, she dropped the marker she was using and bent over right in front of me to change, giving me a straight shot of her butt and white thong. Her drunkenness culminated with her sitting on my lap to take over talking to newcomers while I just kept a close eye to make sure her drunkenness stopped any financial mistakes. I don’t think she intended to sit on me as a sexual act, since she almost never was upfront about sexual things, but she kept shifting back and forth as it dawned on me she had drunk a lot and not yet peed at this party. I tried to will myself to not get turned on, but between the literal shifting of her butt left and right and the knowledge that she was at 90% of her bladder capacity was too much. She had to feel that… Despite my embarrassment and to my surprise, she stayed sitting and actually shifted more vigorously on my lap. She rocked back and forth as she collected money from people arriving. It had to look like she was trying to be sexual now. I put my arms around her waist, just as much to keep her steady as a flirtatious move. She didn’t move away. I was shocked. Veronica, the iron queen with the poker face, was rubbing her butt on my dick on purpose. And she had to pee. I had flashbacks to Cory in that Uber. The stream of late party-goers died down for a little bit and she took the opportunity of the privacy to say to me, “I gotta pee but I’m not gonna go until you cum.” I had never heard her remotely be that sexual before and the change in personality caused my dick to twitch in anticipation. She was at 97%... She unzipped my jeans, pulled out my dick, and proceeded to sit on it, pulling her thong aside so I could slip in. I paused for a second. “Are you sure you’re not too drunk?” She gave me a look, like “Don’t question my actions again.” I didn’t protest any further and she pulled down the front of her skirt as I settled in and now it looked like she was semi-innocently sitting on me but it was so much more than that. She bounced up and down, gripping the arms of the chair, only stopping when someone showed up to the door. It was surreal to talk to people who were oblivious to the fact that you were literally having sex in front of them. After the foot traffic died down again, I slipped my hand in her crotch and fingered her as she rode me. Soon, I could tell she was cumming, though she kept the volume down to a minimum as she shuddered. I felt a wetness on my hand and then on my lap as I saw her let go of her bladder, from 98% to 95% to 90%. It was too much and I came in her as she kept peeing, 85%, 80%. I felt warmness spread along my legs, up my crotch, seep under me and pool under both of us on the couch. She sat there, shaking, until she was totally empty, probably a minute. She slowly slipped off me and readjusted her very wet and yellowed thong and pulled down her skirt, which miraculously showed nothing. She laughed. “Now it looks like you’re the one who pissed themselves.” I couldn’t be too mad given what had happened and zipped myself up. “Well, Veronica, I think that means you’re on door duty by yourself because I gotta go home and change.” She eyed the wet couch, then pulled up the back of her skirt so it wouldn’t get wet and sat right down. “It’s not gross if it’s my own pee.” I laughed and headed out. Unlike Yannelly, there was no acknowledgement the next day that had happened and we carried on being platonic friends for the rest of the year. Speaking of hook-ups, I should now get to the Lauren stories. I didn’t notice any accidents from Lauren until late first semester. She was cramming for finals and jokingly complained at me for playing video games. She yelled down the hall, overhearing my games, “I can’t believe you can play games at a time like this! I got four exams to prepare for and I still have five million chores to do!” I paused the game and peeked my head in her door. “Want me to help you with any of those chores? My finals are all papers I can do on my own time.” “Yeah, do my laundry!” She meant it as a joke, but I went over to grab her laundry basket. “Wait! Really? You’ll do it? I hate doing laundry.” “Yeah, of course. Don’t stress it, focus on studying.” I took it to the basement and began grabbing clothes to throw in the washer. About halfway through, though, I felt wetness. I grabbed what felt wet and held it to the light. It was a pair of brown leather pants and a yellow thong inside. It must have happened days ago, since she hadn’t worn that pair of pants today, but it was clearly soaked at one point. Now it was mostly just damp, but the thong stayed wet due to being inside her pants. I sniffed the thong and sure enough… the acrid smell of pee. I wondered what happened. I’m ashamed to admit, but I pocketed her thong and finished throwing everything else in the laundry. Nothing else of note happened that day, but not long after that she came down to the kitchen to cook while I was on the living room couch and reading a book wearing gray sweatpants and a sports bra (a common lounging outfit for her) and began to cook while tapping one foot and the other. I didn’t pay much attention until she started crossing her legs as she fried something. I looked over and saw it. 89% full. She was never the kind to hold it for no reason… I could have sworn she glanced at me and bounced up and down now that she knew she had my attention. I kept an eye on her as she cooked while desperate. When she finished (some stir fried vegetables), she grabbed a seat by me and turned on the TV, crossing her legs and setting her plate on her lap. She was at 96%. “Hey, how’s it going?” I replied, “Not bad… dinner looks good.” She said, “Yeah, I was really hungry but I really had to pee the whole time…” What was she doing? This wasn’t like her at all. “Oh… Why didn’t you go?” She shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.” She must have noticed the effect her desperation had on me as she stuck around to eat and make small talk. Finally, though, it got too much and she leaned over as I saw it drop from 100% to 96%. I didn’t see any evidence, but she said, “Alright, I really do have to pee.” She got up to rush to the bathroom and I saw just a slight wet spot on the back of her sweatpants. And that’s the story of how I realized she knew I took her underwear and instead of being creeped out, wanted to tease me for the rest of the year. That was almost the end of first semester, but she proceeded to be desperate in front of me all second semester, which bit her in the ass a few times. She regularly asked to study together and twice I saw her run off, wet spot growing on her sweatpants once and khaki slacks another time. She had an internship second semester and would regularly come home desperate, often wearing khakis similar to the one before, but instead of going straight to the bathroom would sit and talk to me, crossing her legs and only disappearing when she had begun to lose control. I must have seen a wet spot on those khakis two more times that winter. Another time, I came home from class and she was already home. I went to the bathroom and was shocked to see her peeing with the door open, jeans at her ankles with a pair of rainbow striped underwear inside, a clear small wet spot at the center. She feigned embarrassment but I knew she did it on purpose. I wondered if I should make a move… There was no doubt she was attractive. I felt like I dodged a bullet by hooking up with Yannelly and Veronica without it affecting roommate relationships, would this? Late winter and early spring meant basketball season and another time she went out dressed in a cheerleader outfit (a common outfit for our sports fans) and came home clearly desperate and leaking. Like the other girls, she kicked off her shoes and I saw shuffle to the bathroom, streams glistening down her toned legs. However, she didn’t change and proceeded to come out to talk to me, sitting on a different chair across from me. I swore she intentionally let me see up her legs multiple times, showing off the dark blue patch on her underwear. It was too much and I swore I would make a move. Merely three days later, on a Friday, she came home desperate from her internship in tight white jeans (like the one on the left, with rips - must have been casual Fridays) and a blue blouse under her coat. She was at 85% as she danced around the kitchen, preparing a snack and giving me a show. I took the chance. “Hey, I was gonna watch a movie in my room tonight, want to join me?” She seemed slightly surprised and I wondered if I had misread things for a second, but she said, “I would love that. Let me finish putting together this cheese platter.” “Jesus you’re fancy. The rest of us just grab a bag of chips, ya know?” “You just wish you were at my level of fancy.” “You’re not wrong.” We settled in on my bed as I set the laptop on my desk chair to play an underrated comedy I had been meaning to check out, The Heat with Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy. Also, I think Lauren would have appreciated a choice involving women leads. First third of the movie, nothing in particular happened except us eating snacks and me noticing Lauren’s knees bouncing. Around the first half, she hit 95% and crossed her leg and put her hand in her crotch. It was not subtle. I breathed in to gain my courage and scooted closer to put my arm around her. She reciprocated, leaning onto my shoulder, still with her hand in her crotch. I was distracted from the movie as I saw the number go up… 96%... 97%... 98%... 99%... 100%. She turned to me. “I don’t think I can hold it any longer.” All I could say in response was to kiss her. She kissed me back hungrily, a release of several months of sexual tension. We made out as she squirmed with her hand in her crotch for a couple minutes before she gasped, breaking off the kissing. I opened my eyes and saw she had dropped down to 95%. She stood up as it continued to go down and I saw a growing wet spot on her white jeans. The wetness turned her pants translucent and I could see the outline of a tan skin-tone thong start to appear. She pulled me up and led me to the bathroom, the number dropping - 90%, 88%, 85%. From behind, I saw the wetness grow along the bottom of her butt and down her thighs. We entered and she closed the door, jumped in the bathtub, and dragged me close as she made out with me and peed her pants. I could hear the hissing, followed by the tinkle of liquid hitting the tub and then liquid hitting liquid as a puddle formed and grew before draining away. After she finished peeing, I eyed her up and down. Her white pants were soaked from her crotch to the seams at the bottom and they were clearly translucent. In fact, I could even see the outline of her trimmed brown-colored pubic hair. I said, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I proceeded to unbutton her blouse as she unbuttoned her pants, throwing them aside, followed by her tan bra. She pulled off her pants, then her soaked thong, and I undressed and joined her in the shower. You can imagine what happened from there. Lauren remains the only person I hooked up with who knew my sexually deviant preference and played into it on purpose. That being said, we began casually hooking up for the rest of the semester and they weren’t usually piss-related. The other roommates knew soon enough and were fine with it as long as we didn’t start any house drama, which we didn’t (I wondered if Yannelly and Veronica would reveal our past hook-ups, but they didn’t, unsurprisingly). Often, Lauren and I would study together or watch a movie to de-stress in one of our rooms and things would escalate from there. While we grew closer as friends over it, we didn’t date as I was graduating and likely to move. There were a couple more stories with Lauren involving accidents, though. Warning: Stories involving messing from here on out. Skip if that’s not your thing. Before I get to that, though, there are two more accidents involving my other roommates. Late spring, as it got warm, I saw Amy mess herself. Amy had gone to a festival over the weekend with her boyfriend and she got home Sunday evening. When she came in the door, she was wearing corduroy striped pants like this and a black crop top (with a white bra somewhat visible underneath). It was a pretty hip outfit, perfect for a festival, but my attention was drawn to something else. She clearly had to go. Her bladder was fine, at around 30%, but her bowels were at a 97%. I then realized that Veronica was taking a shower… Amy headed up the stairs to the bathroom but quickly returned downstairs when she realized it was occupied. She squirmed as she poured herself a glass of water. I pretended nothing was wrong. “Hey, how was the festival?” She took a seat by me. “It was awesome, we saw all the bands we wanted to see, got pretty wasted, camped out in the woods, you know. Festival life. Hey, how long ago did Veronica enter the shower?” “Uh, I think she just went in.” She groaned. I innocently asked, “Why, do you have to go?” We were pretty close friends at that point, so she confessed, “I could NOT poop out in the woods, so I held it all weekend and I really have to go.” “...Oh. Yeah I can’t help you there.” She jokingly glared at me before turning on the TV to distract herself. I continued to work on my laptop as I side-eyed her constant rocking back and forth, hands around her stomach. At one point, she leaned to her side and was clearly letting out a fart. This went on for about ten minutes, at which point she was at full capacity. She muttered, “I can’t hold it any longer…” She stood up to go back to the bathroom and wait for Veronica, but when she stood up she lost it. She immediately hunched over and I watched in fascination as a bulge began to push aside her tight corduroy pants. The tight pants kept the bulge size to a minimum, but over the course of a minute I heard a soft crackling and Amy involuntarily grunting as it began to droop to her left thigh, trying to find space. When she finished, she stood up straight and it looked like a fist along the seam of her butt and a pear-shaped droop down her left thigh. I wondered if she was wearing a thong or something that didn’t contain it in. She turned to me. “Not. A. Word.” I threw my hands up. “Your secret is safe with me.” At that point, we heard Veronica leave the bathroom, so Amy rushed upstairs to clean up, and that was that. While I had seen Yannelly start to poop herself and once saw her after she did, I once also saw Yannelly do the whole deed in front of me. This was early spring and it was a late Tuesday evening. She had stayed out late for some political meetings (something about student organizations trying to get proper funding? I had moved up from covering student government meetings, so I immediately stopped paying attention) but texted our roommate chat frantically around 11 PM. It said: “Guys, I forgot my keys at home. Is anyone at home or free to help out?” Amy responded first. “At my boyfriend’s, sorry.” Lauren texted: “Late night at the library, won’t be home for a while.” Veronica didn’t text at all, likely already asleep. I jumped in. “I’m at the newspaper office but am wrapping up. Wanna meet me here so we can walk home together?” Yannelly confirmed that plan and met me in the journalism department. She was wearing a professional white jumpsuit like this along with a black bomber jacket to deal with the early spring chill. She said, “Hey, is there a bathroom here? They shut down the one in the student government building because they were closing it for the night.” I shook my head no. “They locked down the bathrooms in this building an hour ago, we just get to stay late to work on the newspaper if we’d like.” She groaned. I knew to check… 95% bladder and 97% bowels. How did she get so desperate?! “Couldn’t you go during the meeting?” “Ugh, people were playing politics and I didn’t want to miss out and have someone do something stupid. People kept finding new things to complain about!” I had no idea what the issue was, so I didn’t respond and we headed out to walk home. Occasionally, Yannelly crossed her legs for a second or stopped walking, but she put on a brave face generally as we walked. She was trying to explain what had happened at the meeting, but she was so desperate she didn’t really talk in complete thoughts. A block away, I could tell this was going to end in an accident. She was at 100% on both ends and was now walking in baby steps. Despite her desperation, it seemed she didn’t want to be too obvious in her desperation and just held her arms crossed. Since she was walking so slowly, I got to the door first and watched as she shuffled over. That’s when I saw the wet spot form on her white jumpsuit. It was very obvious, though she made no sign she was peeing herself. It grew as she got closer until it was the size of a baseball on her crotch and halfway down her thighs on both sides. I checked her bowels and saw those were dropping too… 95%... 90%... When she got to me it was down to 80% and I could hear the crackling of her continue to poop, though she again made no visible tells that she was doing that. I opened the door and she rushed in. Now I could see her from behind and saw an obvious bulge that was staining her white jumpsuit brown, not aided by the wet patch creeping up her butt. She threw off her jacket onto the living room couch and wordlessly walked up the stairs, but as I followed I saw the bulge continue to grow and the wetness continue to spread down her legs until she was leaving a trail of piss all the way down the hall to the bathroom door. By the time she got there, she was clearly at 0% on both ends, her bulge the size of a baseball and her legs totally soaked. Even if we had gotten home a minute sooner, I knew she would never have gotten that jumpsuit down in time. In typical Yannelly fashion, though she had to know I saw everything, she never acknowledged what had happened. I guess poop was just too embarrassing to talk about. I never saw that jumpsuit again. I wonder if it was too badly stained to clean. Two accidents stand out with Lauren in the late spring as the end of school drew near. The first was in April and Lauren had dragged me to the gym to make me try working out, in part so she would have company and in part because I had once asked her to make me but was too lazy to follow through. She was wearing an outfit much like this, gray matching workout leggings and sports bra. When outside, she also wore a windbreaker like this, since it wasn’t quite summer weather. The workout itself wasn’t of interest, except that Lauren was really into fitness and drove me into the ground, roasting me as I just tried to survive. Afterwards, though, she suggested we go to the local mall so she could reward me with ice cream and to pick up some make-up she wanted to buy. I asked, “Doesn’t eating ice cream ruin the point of working out?” “I feel kind of bad of how much I made fun of you. I’m trying to get you to keep coming the gym. Next time there won’t be ice cream.” “Fair enough.” We walked down the block to the bus stop. This whole time, I hadn’t noticed any desperation from her, but as we waited at the bus I thought I saw a grimace. I checked, just out of curiosity, and saw she as at 65% of her bladder capacity. Not nearly desperate territory yet. However, she was at 75% of her bowel capacity. Not an emergency, but uncomfortable. At that point, I didn’t think anything of it, since I assume she would have easy access to a bathroom at the mall. We got there and first grabbed ice cream, sitting at the food court and just hanging out. It was good comfort after that workout, but I felt like I just ate all the calories I burned. At one point, I’m pretty sure I smelled Lauren fart, but neither of us commented on it. We then spent half an hour at a makeup store as I stood around, overwhelmed all the products I didn’t know existed. Later I learned apparently once a month they have one free product for members, so Lauren had to go every month to get the deal. While in a lip gloss aisle, Lauren audibly farted, an abrupt brrap sound. She looked at me in surprise before giggling at my surprised face. She then let out a longer, lower-register fart and said, “That’s better.” She pulled me to another aisle. “Quick, before someone smells that monstrosity.” Knowing she had to poop was making me a little aroused and I kissed her. She was a little surprised, but returned the kiss. We made out for a few seconds before splitting off so we wouldn’t cause a scene, but she grabbed my crotch and could feel my interest. “We might have to take care of that before we go home…” As we checked out, I could start to see Lauren fidget, crossing her legs every few seconds and tapping her foot. From behind, I definitely saw her clench her butt for a few seconds as well. She was at 80% for her bladder and 90% for her bowels. I was surprised at how quickly it went up, but perhaps the ice cream jogged her insides into action. At that point, I assumed she would use a bathroom and that would be that, but as we walked past the nearest set of bathrooms, I saw they were cleaning it. Lauren looked longingly as we walked past. The other set was on the other side of the mall. Still no emergency, but I decided to take action. I pulled her close and kissed her and to whisper in her ears, “I think you should hold it until we both cum.” She looked at me in surprise. “I would… I’ve been wet all day from making you work out for me... but… I don’t just have to pee…” “I know.” At that, she raised an eyebrow at me but decided to accept my game. She pulled me into a clothing store (Forever 21, I think?). As she looked through each aisle of pants, she stopped to make out with me, which I gladly reciprocated. At another aisle, she slipped her hand in my pants and jerked me off for a few seconds. At one particularly secluded aisle, I came up to her from behind and pressed her butt into me, which I could feel was tightly clenched. I kissed her and my hand wandered down and I returned the favor. She wasn’t wearing underwear, and I fingered her for a little bit, listening to her moan softly. I could feel a wet spot form on where I was pressing her leggings into her, probably only the size of a quarter but it drove me crazy. She quickly grabbed a pair of pants so we could go to the fitting room, and once inside, we continued our make-out session. It escalated to her lowering her and my pants just enough to sit on me, facing away and towards a mirror, as she rode my dick. Seeing her try to have sex with me in that position while desperate to go was a huge turn-on, and I could feel her fart a couple more times but she was too much in the heat of the moment to care. She was at 90% for her bladder and 95% for her bowels and was going strong. I knew I wouldn’t last long like this so I began to finger her at the same time so she would cum. My gambit worked, and in a couple minutes she muffled her moans of pleasure as she orgasmed. I noticed she squirted a little bit of pee on me as well, but I don’t think she really noticed. She pulled up her leggings and turned to me. I could see the wet spot on her crotch from her arousal. She smiled. “That was amazing… I think you deserve a reward for how well you did.” “What’s that?” “I’m gonna wait until we get home to make you cum.” This was a dream come true. I re-did my pants and we speed-walked to the bus stop, getting there just in time for our bus. While we sat together, she whispered, “So… You don’t just like it when I have to pee.” “I have to confess, I just really like seeing you desperate, either way. You’re the only person that knows that about me.” She smiled. “Your secret is safe with me, I’m not here to kinkshame. But don’t get used to me doing this for you, poop is a lot messier than peeing.” I kissed her. “I’m amazed you’re even doing this for me right now. Know that I don’t ever expect you to participate in my… eccentricities.” “Well, I like to drive you crazy once in a while. You know… if you weren’t about to graduate and probably move to a whole new place… I would definitely go out with you. Like on a date. The sex is great and you’re not a half-bad human being, either, which can’t be said for most of the guys I’ve dated.” “How’s this for a deal? If I don’t move to a new city to get a job, I’ll ask you out on that date.” She smiled at that. Her smile was interrupted by a cramp, though, and she bent forward, holding her stomach. 95% bladder, 99% bowels. I put my arm around her and kissed her to distract her. When we were almost at my stop, she hit 100%. She grabbed the side of her seat and ground her butt into the seat. It dropped to 99%, which signalled to me that it started coming out and she held it in with the bus seat. The effort caused a drop from her bladder, though, from 97% back to 95% and then to 92%. I saw the wet spot, originally from arousal, now grow with urine to the size of a fist. At that point, we got to our stop so she quickly rushed out the bus before anyone could get too close a look and I followed her out. Her butt was clenched extremely tight and sported an obvious wet spot on the back as well, but we made the one-block walk to our house, my arm around her, without any further accidents. At the front door, though, she murmured, “I think I’m losing it.” I looked, and indeed she was pooping, going from 99% to 95%. I grabbed her butt and felt a turd push her cheeks apart and press against my hand. She held it in place, though, and I unlocked the door and she waddled in and up the stairs. No one else was home, fortunately. I followed her up, staring at what was now the faintest sign of a bulge. It started to grow as she walked up the stairs, curling up into a ball the size of a clementine. She was down to 75%. She dragged me into my bedroom and shut the door, and ripped off my pants, continuing where we left off. She blew me as I watched her really begin to lose it from both ends. I heard a trickle and a crackle at the same time. Hearing her have an accident was too much and I came in record time. As she stood up, I saw the now dinner-plate sized wet spot on her crotch grow as she peed full force, running down her gray leggings. She turned around to show me her butt, and I saw it was totally drenched and now had a bulge the size of an orange. She grunted, and it grew again, doubling in size, accompanied by a cacophony of farts and crackling. The not-entirely-unpleasant smell of fresh and healthy poop permeated the room. I checked and she was finally empty. Now that we died down from our illogical horniness, she started laughing at the absurdity of what had happened. I stood up to hug her. “I think now I owe you… Perhaps I can pay you back by cleaning you up.” She nodded, grinning at me. “You better. This is the grossest thing I’ve done for a guy.” “Fair enough. In a weird way, this is also the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” I cleaned her up in the shower, which unsurprisingly led to round 2 of sex. The second accident is a shorter anecdote and it happened at one of the last weeks of the school year. Lauren wanted to unwind by going to a beach that was at a nearby state park before having to make the deep dive of finals studying. It was probably a twenty minute Uber ride. Since I was the closest thing she had to a boyfriend at the time, she asked me to join her, which I gladly agreed to. Once there, we laid out a towel to claim a spot and undressed, revealing our swimsuits. She was wearing a green bikini like this one. We spent most of the afternoon laying on the beach, reading books, chatting, and drinking some beers we had brought. We did go into the lake for a bit, but the water was still quite cold as summer hadn’t been going on long enough to really warm it up, so we returned to our towel. Lauren actually fell asleep for a while, and I took to reading my book. I heard her fart a couple times in her sleep, and that’s when I realized - while she slept, her needs had gone up significantly. When she woke up with a start, she immediately grimaced. I recognized that face now, and saw she was now at 90% for both ends. She turned to me. “Umm… I have to use the bathroom.” I looked around. “There’s a porta-potty on that end of the beach. I’ll walk you there.” We walked down the beach, but when we got there I saw there was only one and it had a rather long line. The beach was extremely busy as people took advantage of the first days of summer. She looked panicked, but got in line and I stood with her to keep her company. We chatted about different things to pass the time, but it was clear she was distracted by her growing need. At 95%, we were only halfway through the line. I said, “Just pee in the lake.” “I don’t… just have to pee.” “Oh.” It was obvious how clenched her cheeks were in a bikini. Unsurprisingly, many of the people in line were desperate to poop, since people could just pee in the lake, but it meant the line moved slowly. I certainly enjoyed the view of people in swimsuits having to poop, since women’s swimsuits did nothing to hide the flexing of those muscles, but I didn’t want Lauren to be embarrassed in front of everyone. When we were second in line, Lauren gasped softly. I saw that she had hit 100% on both ends and immediately let out a spurt. I could see pee trickling down the side of one of her legs. She forcefully whispered, “I can’t hold it any longer!” I dragged her along to the ocean. I could tell she was peeing as we walked, trickles running down her leg with a darker spot on her bikini (which had dried out from when we had gone into the lake earlier), but I don’t think anyone in line noticed and we were walking too fast for anyone on the beach to get a close look. As we got close, Lauren practically ran into the water and I joined suit. I held her hand and even though I couldn’t see her pee, I could see her number go down. I put my hand in her crotch and felt the warmth jet out of her. She said, “Yeah, you’re probably enjoying this, aren’t you?” “Guilty as charged.” She moved my hands to her butt. I felt her lose control as she began to poop into her bikini. She slipped her hand into my swimsuit and stroked me as I felt her bulge grow to a similar size as last time. It all stayed contained in her bikini, but I imagined what it would look like. The thought and feeling her poop herself was too much and I came. I couldn’t believe we did that in the lake on a public beach, but to outsiders it just looked like we were holding each other in the water. I slipped down her bikini bottom and dumped the poop out before pulling it back up. She grimaced, since her butt and bottom weren’t exactly clean, but at least there wouldn’t be a bulge. She gave me a quick kiss. “Thanks for your quick thinking.” We stepped out of the water. “Is there a stain or anything?” I checked. “Nope, your butt looks as fine as ever.” She laughed, but we took this accident as a sign to head home. Once home, she took off her bikini to show off a circular brown stain wider than an orange to me on the inside. She was about to throw it in the laundry, but then she handed it to me. “Consider this a graduation present, you perv.” arg08, ed2, YellowPengu and 3 others 6 Quote Link to comment
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