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Showing content with the highest reputation on 05/02/2020 in all areas

  1. 6 points

    Biku's art

  2. 5 points

    Rexone’s Art

    Also, here's a preview of 6 panel desperation comics that I created for a patron. If you're interested to buy, please dm me! The comic contains heavy drinking, tight clothes, deliberate holding and wetting!
  3. 4 points

    Page 28

    Since the last page I've moved twice, fallen in love, gotten a girlfriend and on top of all a global pandemic has isolated the world. But anyways, good stuff keep it up <3
  4. 3 points
    I once peed into a pencil holder just to get enough relief to keep holding until the bathroom was free but that was the only time. I spent hours and hours squirming and holding bursting to go though and I recall sticking pads in my knickers once or twice to help with spurts.
  5. 3 points
    This sounds, I don't know, a little Excessive, maybe? Authoritarian?? Creepy even? ??? Being Outdoors and in the Sun and Fresh Air virtually eliminates chance of contagion in a matter of minutes by all accounts. That, coupled with the social distancing and following local guidelines seem best practice to keep everybody safe. Plus, what is the mental health of staying indoors? Six Weeks of Isolation is not good for my state of mind. And I get a much needed Boost mentally every time Alice posts something new. Which is Extremely Often. Peace, Derek
  6. 3 points
    Well I didn't expect so much negativity today on this thread, and that's a little sad Just to clear this up, we have been only going out during evenings etc to excercise for our daily excercise (a few walks etc). So were never really out for more than an hour lately, and some of these were filmed during quick shopping trips or walks. I know I may have suggested or exaggerated some of the stories etc here and there, but it's just to make it a little more exciting sometimes Please do not assume that we are out all day everyday, as we both are working still currently. We are still distancing ourselves from everyone at the moment and not breaking any laws at all. We are curretly allowed 1 hour of excercise per day, and driving to an isolated field etc about 10 mins from our house is perfectly allowed with these restrictions to do our excercise from what I have researched so far. So I am confident we are not doing anything wrong at all on the occasions we have gone out I understand it is a difficult situation for a lot of people currently (including ourselves), but we really havent been around anyone at all and are not breaking any laws, so I'm not really sure what all the fuss and threats are about? We are not disrespecting any laws or harming anyone, however I do understand your points, but we are not out driving all day everyday, only to get our excercise or shopping. We havent gone out at any point for no reason and we have not been out all day everyday like it was suggested. We are only trying to spread a little positivity for everyone on here and sharing our experiences during this time, so please do not assume we are disregarding all of the current laws during this bad situation, because we really are not. we are just finding fun ways to cope with this situation on the chances we can get out to excercise or get some shopping. we have only actually made about just a handful of clips outdoors so far, and some were filmed well before isolation was actually implemented, so I do not believe we have broken the law at all. I hope that clears this up. Love from Alice. ❤❤❤
  7. 3 points

    Rexone’s Art

    Things are going beyond Rex's control! What do you think is going to happen next guys? Let me know in comments.
  8. 3 points
    I have a suspicion that this is actually fiction (and should be in the fiction section), but I feel like I need to do a PSA anyway: Staying in the same soiled diaper, especially one messed in, for three days straight is a major health hazard that can give you a nasty UTI and skin rashes. I'm not sure how you could even stay in the same diaper for three days, even with that many boosters in. Don't do this, it's not hot.
  9. 3 points

    Last person to post wins

    Thank you!! You too
  10. 3 points
    Also, here's a preview of 6 panel desperation comics that I created for a patron. If you're interested to buy, please dm me! The comic contains heavy drinking, tight clothes, deliberate holding and wetting!
  11. 2 points

    Version 0.8.1

    2,482 downloads

    This is an alpha (demo) release of my current efforts to translate the full version of Ao Kurage's wonderful RPG もじクエ (MojiQue) into English. The full, untranslated version can be found officially from here, or a slightly older version on this very website. Note: please don't ask me for technical help running this RPG. Instead, search around for existing discussion of this game. Support the Project For those wishing to express their apprecation for the efforts on this project, I am now accepting donations! For now, I am using SubscribeStar as my primary platform for this. Please click the link below to see my profile. https://www.subscribestar.com/trashgomi Donations are very much appreciated, and supporters will get early access to releases and exclusive blogs relating to the project! Supporters can also optionally get their names added to the credits file. Of course, the final translation will be available to all. Please get in contact with me via email or through the Direct Message system if you have any suggestions for alternative methods of donation that suit your needs. Should I Play This Demo? Until this translation is complete, players are likely to encounter untranslated Japanese text, unrefined localizations, and typos. Players will also be likely to finish each version of the demo before the next part of the story is translated. This demo is therefore most appropriate for those who wish to playtest and provide feedback, and those who don't mind replaying the game again once the full version is out. Save files appear to be compatible between each version of the game, so you can continue your game as each version comes out. Survey: Feedback and Issues Please let us know at the following link if you have found any problems with the translated dialogue in the most recent demo, or if you want to get involved. https://www.surveymonkey.co.uk/r/S8LPFGF

    Free

  12. 2 points
    Might just be my favorite since I'm very very picky with rl omo, it's a new account too Just peeing (with nudity) 1. 2. 3 Wetting (love how it goes through his fingers) 1.
  13. 2 points

    Page 28

    From the album: Off-Limits!

    The long-awaited continuation of Dakota's torment is finally here! (I'm not going to say anything about future plans, because every time I say something, it jinxes it!)
  14. 2 points
    https://twitter.com/divetp1st eIC2yGvQRQtI3gNH.mp4 LRiioyGNWeq-jdPf.mp4 pEj0gLqbZY6edCVK.mp4 TO_3eMvx_UyYlN8f.mp4 u9e0fHn9vu4jkaId.mp4 wxNoAVWihF9DHohM.mp4 X2n-PzRqav2MqpfI.mp4 YVw9CCO4hX0nz6kI.mp4
  15. 2 points
    Kara was incredible at what she did. As Supergirl, she could lift planes with just her two hands, fly anywhere she wanted, save people day after day and so on and so forth - and all the while maintain a somewhat normal life, except not really. All that power aside - Kara Danvers was kind of ticklish. That's how she would put it, when she had to admit it at least, especially at a time like this. "Lena! Stop!" Kara yelled out as Lena tickled her sides just a little. As much as she didn't want anybody to know, she had a kind of another secret life. Every now and then, she'd invite Lena Luthor over to her cozy little apartment and submit to her. Something about Lena's natural dominance made Kara want to do anything Lena said. "You're just really cute when you squirm in that new suit," Lena smiled a little bit evil. "I told you, I'm just kind of ticklish!" Kara rolled her eyes. "Kind of? I really think you're more than kind of ticklish," Lena replied, tickling her sides more. Kara jolted up, trying to resist hitting Lena so hard she put her in the stratosphere. "Okay! Fine, more than kind of," Kara broke down. "How much more?" Lena said, wiggling her fingers in front of Kara. "Okay, Lena, really ticklish," Kara said, looking down a bit in embarrassment. "Like.. laugh and punch me off the planet ticklish, or pee your pants ticklish?" Lena said teasingly. Kara looked back almost visibly offended for a minute, only because of how hard it hit home. Flashbacks of the one time Alex had tickled Kara at the wrong time ran through her head. "Definitely punching you off the planet ticklish," Kara teased back. Lena loved seeing Kara Danvers in this position, sitting next to her on the couch with that tight uniform, willing to do anything she said. She also liked that Kara had a little bit of attitude every now and then. "So you've never been tickled so bad you peed your pants?" Lena laughed a bit, doubt in her voice. She was just meaning to tease, but part of her was also kind of curious. Kara focused ahead on the TV, they were originally trying to watch a movie. "Uhhh, I-I don't think so," Kara stuttered a bit. "You're a terrible liar, Supergirl," Lena said, her right arm wrapped around Kara's side, dragging her fingers over her side. Kara blushed a bit, trying to think of a quick way to change the topic. "I don't think you're getting out of this question," Lena said watching Kara look puzzled for a few seconds. "Fine, maybe like.. once," Kara replied under her breath, her cheeks getting a bit redder. Lena smiled at her, then looked forward to the TV screen. Kara bought it for a second, thinking the whole tickling conversation might be finally over until Lena dug her fingers into Kara's sides at full force. Kara burst out laughing, trying her hardest to contain herself. "I hate you so much right now!" The flustered Kryptonian said to Lena, a little frustrated but more embarrassed. "Why? Do you need to pee or something?" Lena teased. Kara looked down for a second, her cheeks now pretty red. "Use your words, Kara." "Well, yes, but I -" Kara got cut off. "I think you should hold it." Lena said. Kara looked at her, trying not to show too much frustration on her face, she couldn't give Lena that satisfaction yet. Kara knew Lena had a wetting kink, Lena told her she'd done it with a few of her partners, but Kara had never tried. "Okay, I'll try," Kara said, still red in the face. Immediately after saying that, she felt Lena tracing her fingers over her side again. She hated it but loved it at the same time. Lena admired Kara, her long blonde hair, how she managed to look so regal in her Supergirl outfit, even this new one with the tight pants. She loved it when Kara would submit to her, call her mistress, beg or anything. Lena just loved being in control. Kara took this time to regain her composure. She really had to pee, and she really didn't want to admit it. To pee her pants in her uniform? She'd probably be the first superhero to do that. Probably not a good look. Suddenly, the TV turned off, she looked over to see Lena with the remote in her hand as she took her other arm out from behind Kara. Lena tossed it to the side, and got on Supergirl's lap. Kara could feel Lena's tight denim jeans rubbing against her outfit. Lena looked down at Kara, putting her hand on her face and softly pulling her in to kiss her. In the tender moment, Lena used the element of surprise to give Kara a little tickle attack. "Lena! Mistress, please," Kara begged, quickly pulling away from the kiss and giving her the puppy-dog eyes that always made Lena's heart melt. Lena stopped for a second, but kept going. It took all of Kara's raw strength to not flail her arms and hurt Lena, and with that she suddenly lost control of her bladder - but only for a split second. "L-Lena! Please, I leaked!" Kara said out loud, not even realizing what she had just admitted. Lena looked down at her again, Kara's back against the couch and face full of the cutest nervous expression she'd ever seen. She looked down further, and realized Kara had actually leaked a bit in her pants. A small baseball sized wet spot that was a dark, wet navy blue surrounded her crotch area of the deep blue pants. Lena gasped mockingly, putting her hand to her mouth. "Did Supergirl just pee her pants?" Lena said teasingly. Kara was squirming desperately underneath her, she couldn't even find the words to reply, but she had to say something. "Please, Lena? I see the bathroom just literally over there!" Kara said in a fury, pointing to her apartment bathroom. Lena had that evil expression on her face again. "No, I definitely want to see you pee your pants, Kara. Or should I say Supergirl." Kara blushed hard. She couldn't just.. obey, could she? To be continued. -- So this was a little something I wrote up pretty quick, I think it's kind of cute. If ya'll like it, I'll do a continuation! Might throw some other characters in there.
  16. 2 points

    642 downloads

    Cute Blonde I found the other day

    Free

  17. 2 points
    The idea of wetting myself during lecture came to me basically the very second I heard that my classes would be transferred to an online format, so of course, I had to go through with it. Earlier in the day I had smoked some weed with one of my friends (it was on 4/20) and since I get cottonmouth pretty intensely when I smoke, I was drinking a ton of water! I had gone to the bathroom once while he was over, but by the time he left--about 30 minutes before my class started--I already needed to go again pretty badly. Looking at the clock, I pondered: could I make it all the way through class? At this point it was difficult to tell, but I was determined to try. I kept drinking small but frequent sips of water to keep me hydrated. By the time class started, I REALLY needed to pee. The water hit me a lot faster than I expected, and by the time I logged on, I knew I wouldn't last an hour and a half. I turned on the video camera as normal (audio is always off) and watched lecture. Or, I would have watched lecture, except I needed to pee so bad and I was so hyper aware of how I looked that I just kept watching where it showed my video feed to make sure I wasn't letting my desperation show to any of my classmates. In my seat, I was squirming, pressing my legs together, squeezing tight to prevent myself from leaking on accident. Through some choice hip movements and repositioning, I finally got to a place where I felt like I could hold a little longer. My professor requested we open our books to a certain table he was referencing. I was forced to move my hand from holding myself to grab the book that was on the chair next to me. My legs were shaking as I opened the book and slowly located the correct page and I was able to regain control of myself, hands-free. A spike of desperation hit me as his explanation droned on and I instinctively removed my hand from the book and SHOVED it between my legs. Then I remembered I was on video and quickly checked my feed to make sure my face wasn't bright red. I wondered if anyone had seen me. Only my shoulders up were visible but the sudden motion could've seemed out of place. My expression was slightly pained. It was getting a lot harder to hold, now 30 minutes in to the class period, and I definitely would not make it to the end. I had to get up to get some more water. I carefully stood and slithered out of view of the camera, cramming my hand back into my crotch the second it was safe to do so. I made all the scrunched faces I could and hopped around pee dancing before returning back to lecture. I had to keep my hand on my crotch at all times at this point or I would absolutely lose it. It was around the 45 minute mark that I felt my bladder finally begin to give way. My professor was talking, and writing, and my classmates were watching him, and I was slowly losing control of myself, desperate to keep a straight face. The harder I tried to hold the less relaxed my face was, but relaxing my face meant losing control. I opted to keep a neutral expression and... I leaked. "Oh my god," I thought to myself, "I'm pissing my pants in class. Oh my god. I'm having an accident." I tried to mask my expression of horror and embarrassment with one of slight confusion, as the weak but steady trickle of pee began to permeate my underwear and puddle beneath me on the chair. I kept trying to hold it in but my muscles could only squeeze so much, and before I knew it I could hear drips of piss on the floor. I was mortified. I pushed my laptop camera up and put my head down slightly so only my forehead would be visible. I couldn't control my facial expression anymore. I let my muscles relax in defeat and allowed myself to release all over my shorts, all over the chair, all over my floor, camera still running, lecture continuing on. My breath was heavy. I raised my head again, and did a quick survey of the damage of my lower half. I was absolutely soaked and a large puddle surrounded the chair. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment, and I looked at my video feed again. Luckily the camera luckily barely registered it. My classmates looked as normal. As far as I know, nobody had noticed. I stayed there for about 10 more minutes before my professor decided to end lecture. Every movement in my wet seat reminded me of my bad behavior. Sorry I don't have any pictures but I hope y'all liked the story! Stay home and stay safe!
  18. 2 points
    So here in the UK we're being battered by snow. As a country we are hopeless when it snows. All the transport stops, public services struggle, and we always seem totally unprepared. Talking about being unprepared... that's where I come in. This experience... event (whatever you want to call it) may or may not have happened tonight, who knows. I was unprepared because I ran out of snacks and nice feel good food. I like snacks and feel good food. I only realised this when i had spent the evening eating all of my snacks and feel good food; thinking i had more, obviously. I was content in my ball of warmth in bed doing a film marathon and ignoring uni work. At about 21:00 ish I was hit with the dilemma: Do I stop being a total pig and stay in my nice warm bed OR Do I follow my cravings and brave the super cold conditions outside to indulge the fact I want to be a pig and keep eating. I chose the latter. At this point I was already in some nice fleecy joggers and a t-shirt and hoodie. The joggers seemed impractical to wear in the snow though, as the wind is causing the snow to pile up and be deeper than it should be. Damn wind. I should mention at this point I wasn't even thinking of pee stuff. I've been quite good the last few days and tried hard not to play around as I've actually been trying to do uni things. I didn't even really need to pee badly before I went on my little adventure. I changed out of the joggers and put on a pair of warm leggings and a pair of black jeans. I thought the jeans hugging the leggings against my skin would retain the warmth. i pulled on a pair of socks and a thicker pair over those. I swapped the hoodie for a jumper and put on my dark grey coat which ties at the waist and just about covers all of my ass. I haven't been out much in the snow (because I fecking hate it) so tried to be as prepared as possible for the cold. I went for my thin pair of woolly gloves, as they are the only ones I own, a scarf and a beanie style hat also. And off I went to the small Tesco shop that was a good 10 minute walk away without snow. Becca you idiot. I had slipped on my ass before even leaving the street my accommodation is on. My face felt like it was being splintered by ice cold splinters. Did I mention it's windy as well? The snow isn't that heavy but instead of going downwards it's coming face-wards. Despite the conditions, the snow drifts looked very pretty. Much longer than 10 minutes later I got to Tesco, got my chocolate and biscuits and all those good healthy things and trotted back down the road I came. This is when it hit me. I had ignored any bladder feelings until now as i was focusing too much on not slipping and trying to readjust my scarf so my cheeks wouldn't get frostbite. I actually had to stop walking for a bit to squeeze my legs together as I realised if i didn't get back quickly there may be a yellow snow incident. Even if I got back to my room, dropped everything, ran to my toilet or shower and just peed. I was fully prepared for that. I almost accepted that as fate as all I wanted to do now was get out of this bastard weather. As I said earlier, the sow wasn't too heavy but it was still bloody cold. My jeans and leggings idea hadn't been brilliant as both my legs felt numb. The only source of warmth down there was my thighs rubbing together as I walked. My chest was starting to ache from a mix of shivering and trying to breathe more. But goddamn this chocolate was worth it; of which I'm definitely not eating whilst writing this. I was about half way back to the accommodation before I realised I was probably at about an 8 - 8.5. I was panicking a bit as despite doing a bit of wetting from time to time, I strictly do not do anything publicly as I am way too scared and just no. So now I was using more effort to hold as well. Walking was hurting, breathing was hurting and now holding was hurting. Something had to give very soon... and both walking and breathing are more important than the other... The inevitable started to go through my mind. What if I had to pee now. Could I actually hide anywhere? Nope. Even behind a car? Not discretely. Are there people around? A few. Is it light? Only form the streetlights, which were light enough. Shit shit shit. Out of panic I took my spare hand and rubbed at my crotch to try and warm the area up, not that I thought it would do much use. All I did was make myself horny. Grade A job well done there, Becca. Now I was breathing heavier because I'd done gone and rubbed the V. I kept my hand there for a little while longer and the urge took over me. I stopped holding momentarily and felt a short wave pee touch my underwear and trickle down underneath my ass. I knew the leggings would absorb it if I leaked too much. It felt like no damage was done and I rubbed a bit more to try and spread any pee that had built up in the material. I felt a quick wave of the pee spread and then a few droplets escape down my inner thighs. I let out a small exhale sound thing. Christ I needed to get back to my room now. I came back to my senses and carried on hobbling through the snow. I checked the glove of the hand i had downstairs and from where I had been rubbing the snow had been removed. I couldn't tell if the glove had been made wet so though I thought I was safe. Literally no more than a few minutes later I was really desperate to go. As, lets face it, trying to become less desperate by letting some out doesn't work. But it was so nice and warm. Not that I had let lots of pee out but my god was I turned on at this point. I could feel the wet fabric between my thighs rub against my skin and I felt that the more I walked the more there would be a wet patch on the jeans at the crotch. It was the warmest part of my body. I was so close to my street now. I was doing so well. I was still indescribably desperate. I feel I should mention the time this all happened. I said earlier I left about 21:00ish, and lucky for me the Tesco is open until 23:00 every day. It was dark and the only light was from streetlights and I suppose the reflection of the light from the white snow. It was about 22:15 by the time I got back to my accommodation, or at least the turn off onto the street it;s on. I was now dribbling. I physically couldn't hold any longer without agonising pain. I had lost, and with only about 2 minutes until I got to my room. The dribbled had turned into a bit of a torrent and all I could do was think, do I hide and let it go or keep walking and try and get to my room, overly hopeful at the fact I might make it. I couldn't move though. I whimpered and turned to make sure no one else was nearby. I did a weird leap thing over and into a pile of snow behind a bush and looked down as my jeans started to steam. I had never wet in public until this point. I was feeling so embarrassed and helpless. I felt childish and dirty. I almost started crying as i watched around to make saw no one could see me. Fuck. The pee streamed down my legs in waves of pure warmth. I felt the leggings stick to my skin and the jeans become damp as the roughness of them became slightly softer whilst they started to glisten with liquid. The faint patter of pee droplets in the snow felt as if they were 100x louder than they actually were. I could feel both pairs of socks becoming gradually soggier as the pee drenched my legs and carried o downwards. The pee continued to spread across my already saturated underwear and puddle at my ass. I could feel the puddle spread even more and then fall into my leggings and carry on down the back of my jeans. I wasn't concerned about damage really, and as much as I was scared and helpless I was in a world of pure fucking bliss. I crouched down into the snow. My ass fell straight through the untouched layer of snow behind me and I carried on peeing. Now my legs weren't getting as damp but the pressure of crouching pushed out what remained in my bladder. I couldn't touch it, I shouldn't. But I did. I put the same hand as I did earlier onto my crotch and gently pushed inwards with my middle finger. I felt the saturated material give way and my glove because damp and warmer. I came back to my senses very quickly and everything rushed back into panic mode. I forced myself through the snow even more and ended up sitting down. I could see there was an obvious tint in the snow. I pulled the snow over my legs to... I don't know what. it seemed like the best way to hide the wetness but all it did was cool down the warmth of the pee and I sat there, feeling totally stupid, in the snow with ice cold wet jeans. Bollocks. I stood myself up, still trying to overcome the mix of excitement and shame. I kicked some more fresh snow over the accident site and all of the yellow evidence was gone. I looked down and thanked Christ I put on black jeans. The pee stain was hardly noticeable and it being late helped a lot. The snow was sticking to me though but I hoped if anyone saw me it would only look like I'd fallen in it. Still breathing heavily I made my way to the back end of the street where the accommodation is. A few lights on in bedrooms and kitchens but didn't look like there was too much movement. I thought I'd get away with this. Just one set of stairs and two corridors to go. I was safe walking in. I was safe on the stairs. I was safe through the social bit between corridors. I got into my corridor. I was outside my door. I fucking made it. If there was ever a feeling of relief more satisfying than the actual peeing, it was that right then: being behind my door after having had an actual accident, not being seen and not having been found out. I locked my door and pulled of my jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves. I pushed immediately. Whatever remained in my bladder came out and the rewetting lasted about 3 seconds. I did what I needed to do to satisfy my needs and promptly removed the jeans and leggings. They had been made damp and cold from the snow as well and that felt more uncomfortable than I'd have liked. I may still be wearing the same underwear though be re-wrapped up in bed in my fleecy joggers. If you have seen my previous experiences you'll know I have my mattress protected so wearing wet clothes in bed isn't a bother. But wow. This pair of underwear is being used well tonight I can assure you. I may even have put on the leggings and jeans again to pee through them once tonight. They definitely aren't sat in a pile on my bathroom floor feeling sorry for themselves waiting to be used again.
  19. 2 points

    Another day at work

    So I know it’s been a while since I posted but I have another story that I just had to post. Arriving at work I was greeted by an email from one of my supervisors that I had to go to a different city to grab some supplies from another one of our offices. Immediately I was happy to take the trip, after all, I could take my time and enjoy the beautiful day. Mid 50s is beautiful spring weather to be driving with my windows down. Before thinking about it, I left the office, got in my car and was on my way. Of course since it’s a road trip, I stopped and got a large iced coffee (what’s a road trip without iced coffee). The drive took about 40 mins on the highway as I sipped on my coffee and was quite relaxed. Getting to the other office, I was immediately greeted and they had most of the supplies I needed. As I was going through the list, I realized they had missed some items so I was stuck waiting another half hour. Getting rather impatient with them, I got the other items from them, put them in my car and jumped on the road again. Wanting to not get back to work too early, I decided to take a smaller county highway rather than the major highway I originally took. After starting and leaving one town, I realized I hadn’t been to the bathroom in a while and my need to pee was starting to grow. I figured I could make it easily without much worry. The county highway I was on was very curvy and only two lanes. And that’s when it happened...... I came around a curve and was greeted with a slower moving semi. Ugh, just my luck. Driving behind the semi, I started to realize the my need to pee was much worse than I originally thought. I turned the volume up on my radio and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel as my leg started to sway back and forth. Trying to think of places I could stop in case I really had to go. I attempted to pass the semi a few times, however, every time I tried there were cars driving the opposite way. I was really stuck now. After another 15 mins, I was really fijiting. I could keep myself still in my seat. The seatbelt and my regular belt pressed into my waist and bladder making my situation even worse. It also didn’t help that I nervously sipped on the rest of my iced coffee, which was mostly just water at this point. After another 15 mins, I was really desperate. One hand on the wheel, the other pressed into the crotch of my jeans. Bouncing up and down in my seat, I started yelling at the semi. i started looking for anywhere to pee at this point. Somewhere semi private would work, however the few businesses I passed were all closed thanks to the covid epidemic. Finally I saw a storage off to the side, figuring I could stop there, hide myself with my car and the building to find relief. I quickly slowed my car down to make the turn when my bladder finally started saying it had had enough and a quick jet of pee escaped into my panties. Just a little farther and I could finally pee, I thought. I pulled into the thankfully unmanned storage unit and quickly found a place to go. As I stopped my car, another longer squirt of pee escaped into my panties. I stopped and started to get out and my bladder had just had enough. before I could fully stand out of my car, I started peeing in my jeans and I couldn’t stop. I jumped away from the car, not wanting to get my seat and car wet with pee. I gave up and kept flooding my pants. While it felt amazing, a little part of me was embarrassed I couldn’t make it back to work. Finally after a few mins, my bladder was mostly empty and I stopped peeing. My jeans were soaked and the cool breeze felt even cooler. Luckily for me, no one was around for me to embarrass myself in front of. Quickly thinking, I remembered I had workout clothes in my car (so much for working out after work). I was able to change my clothes in my car without making too much of a mess. I removed my pants and panties and found a small area of my leans that weren’t soaked with pee to wipe my legs. I pulled on the yoga pants as made sure I looked alright in the reflection of the car. I finished my drive and dropped the supplies off at work. My boss gave me a look based on my wearing yoga pants (they are frowned upon at work) but thanked me for getting the supplies. I requested taking the rest of the day off and he agreed. Thankfully I could go home and shower and start laundry
  20. 2 points
    This is what I understand about driving to the countryside to go for a walk during lockdown this is what the uk government have stated about this. Please do not think that we believe we're better than anyone else or flouting any rules/laws. We are just trying to cope with this terrible situation by sharing our fun and being positive.
  21. 2 points
    I am sure I will be excoriated for saying this but, I think if the lockdown laws had more basis in science and fact, less people would be resistant to them. My opinion is that they are excessive, and doing more harm than good.
  22. 2 points
    Alright, I'm going to have to ask one final time to tone it down. I think it's unfair of you to judge the intentions of the individual here. You could have made your statement that this shouldn't be done without being accusatory and rude. There are people out there intentionally grouping together and ignoring these laws with the intent of causing harm. It's understandable to be angry at those people and to condemn them. But those that may not realize what they are doing is wrong can be told so without being demeaned or threatened. You've made your point here and for now I'm going to have to ask for you to drop the issue. If you'd like to submit a report and communicate with us further, you can do so via a support ticket and we will take it under consideration whether or not this is an issue we need to step in and get involved with. But regardless, I don't believe any harm was meant here, so as I said above you can make your point without beating someone up so needlessly.
  23. 2 points

    119 downloads

    Illya cat cosplay masturbation with squirting/wetting in the end. Warning, partial nudity, mostly bare nipples.

    Free

  24. 2 points
    I understand and sympathize with the concern. As long as you're keeping away from others and just keeping to empty parking lots and such, it's not really putting anyone in harms way. I'm guilty of just going out and driving a bit to escape and get a bit of freedom during these times myself. Just driving around doesn't do anything to spread the disease further.
  25. 2 points
    I really soaked my jeans I think I might do another public wetting real soon! This was so thrilling! ❤❤❤❤
  26. 2 points
    OMG, has it really been this long since i've written anything new? i've been so focused on my music for the past few years, but maybe it's time i got back to doing some writing... anyone up for it? V----V
  27. 2 points

    ShikkinCAMPUS 2.0 Eng MT

    can you do a translation like this for ShikkinSCHOOL ?
  28. 2 points
    Dunno who needs to read this, but stop trying to post that volafile link on the forum. Its loaded with content on the Do Not Post list, we will not approve it or let it stay up. This should be common sense at this point and I'm going to start dishing out warnings for it. Sorry, but you know the rules.
  29. 2 points
    I love NS diapers! I was desperate for a change this afternoon as I was stuck on back-to-back conference calls. 30 minutes into the last call a heavy gush soaked my already wet diaper and I though for sure I would leak, but I didn't. I usually change before my diaper gets this wet but sometimes time and my bladder are not on my side.
  30. 2 points
    Whew! Finally, it's done. Contains: spanking (kind of) Chapter 7: Car Wash It was a bright day, so much so that you had to shield your eyes even to look at the sky, which was filled with billowy puffs of clouds looking like cotton balls pressed onto a pane of glass. The air was filled with the noises of traffic, birds chirping, music being played loudly through car stereos, and the jingle of a passing ice cream truck. It was, by all accounts, an ideal summer’s day. Angelica was glad to be able to enjoy it from within the shade. She didn’t fare as well in direct sunlight as Lily did, who began every autumn with a perfectly toned tan, and as such she tried to avoid it. So, to be able to get the mild breeze, the fresh estival scents, and the lazy warm-but-not-too-hot climate while still out of the sun was wonderfully refreshing. She and Lily were both dressed in jean shorts (though Lily’s were shorter) and sleeveless tops: Angelica with a yellow tank top and Lily with a pink halter top. Despite their summer wear, they both had on tennis shoes; flip-flops or sandals being banned in the workplace for safety reasons. The workplace in question was QuikShine Car Wash, a job which, while certainly not the most promising for a long-term career, served well enough as a means of income during the summer months. While Angelica had been hunting for work that could count as experience toward her business degree, Lily had found this job through a friend on her first day looking, and then had gotten Angelica a place there too. At first Angelica felt a little annoyed that Lily had found work so easily when she herself had been trying so hard without success, but the feeling passed quickly. It was kind of Lily to get her hired at the same place, and she could always keep looking for other work. And, to be honest, working at the car wash wasn’t bad. It mainly involved a lot of spraying with hoses and squeegeeing, combined with the occasional bit of maintenance on the rollers and spray arches. Of course, neither of them was a technician, and the greatest extent of the “maintenance” they did was things like replacing canisters of cleaning chemicals or performing a manual restart on the conveyors if they ever got stuck. The job was simple enough, requiring only two employees per shift; and the owner, Mr. Armstrong, a somewhat gawky-looking bespectacled man in his mid-forties, was generous enough to let the two of them share the same hours, as long as they didn’t distract each other. They had been working there for the past month and a half, and so far Angelica had found no prospects for other employment that would better fit her educational track. More and more, she was having to face, with a certain degree of wistful regret, the likelihood that there would be no better opportunities before the school year began again. Lily, on the other hand, was relishing her newfound freedom and financial resources, limited though they were. Angelica found that she had to be the practical one and advise Lily to try saving some of her income, instead of spending it all at once. She also needed to stay on top of Lily regarding her assignments for college applications. Ever since she had pulled out on top as valedictorian, Lily had more enrollment options open up to her, and her surprising display of natural skill at public speaking was now leading her to look into pursuing public relations. She intended to start with studying marketing and media studies. Angelica was impressed by her best friend’s newfound life goals, and wholeheartedly supported her. It did mean, though, that Lily would have to learn to be self-motivated, at least more than she was now. In the absence of teachers, classes, and semesters, Angelica now filled the role of life coach—or at least, someone who was close enough to Lily that she wouldn’t take any of her crap. On this day, the morning had passed in relative ease. It had been very near lunchtime when that changed. After a smooth succession of incident-free washes, a shrill beeping that neither of the girls had ever heard before started sounding from the computer panel near the exit. Mr. Armstrong had clearly instructed them never to touch this panel, and they consequently promptly summoned him to deal with it. “Oh dear. Um…oh dear.” Mr. Armstrong adjusted his glasses and scratched the side of his head. “What is it?” Angelica leaned in, not comforted by the tone in his voice. He sighed. “It’s an issue with the sensor array. I’m going to have to get someone out here ASAP to get it fixed. Thing is, the whole system depends on it. Until we get it fixed, we’ll have to turn off all the machinery.” Lily and Angelica shared a glance before Lily piped up. “Should we just go home, then?” Her stomach rumbled. She was looking forward to getting something to eat. Mr. Armstrong furrowed his brow. “No, no, I think we can stay open. It just means we’ll have to wash the cars by hand.” He gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, girls. I know it’s not what you were hired for, but do you think you can manage?” Both girls looked at each other again before nodding to each other and then to Mr. Armstrong. They were both young enough to retain some of the naïveté that assumes people in authority always have everything under control. He in turn thanked them both, his voice somewhat reassured, before heading back for his office, running his hand through his thinning hair. At first, washing cars by hand was almost fun. The girls got to work together and laugh and joke and occasionally splash each other as they did so. However, it quickly became apparent that the two of them alone would have to maintain an exhausting pace to keep up with the amount of cars coming in, even after Mr. Armstrong had set up a sign at the entrance that read “Hand Wash Only.” When noon approached, rather than take their lunch together, as was their custom, Mr. Armstrong told them they would have to stagger their lunch breaks. Since Lily’s stomach hadn’t stopped growling, Angelica said she could go first, to which Lily gratefully agreed. There was a Taco Bell across the street, and she went there, ordering an eclectic assortment of individual items and completing them with a large Mountain Dew Baja Blast. All that washing by hand had been hard and hot work, and she needed to cool off. Once her order came in, she hastily scarfed down her food items, then leaned back in her booth with a discreet burp and a contented sigh, taking a breather while she sipped her drink and her food digested in the remaining lunch break she had. ~*~*~*~*~ Upon returning, now that it was her turn to be back working by herself, Lily was wishing she had used the bathroom at the Taco Bell when she had had the chance. The Baja Blast was only making it worse. She inwardly berated herself—if Angie had been with her, she would have made sure they’d both gone to the toilet when they had had the chance. But, of course, Angie was taking her own lunch break now, most likely somewhere besides Taco Bell, someplace at least marginally healthier. Which also meant Lily wouldn’t get any chance to relieve herself until Angelica got back. She sighed and tried to focus on her work, despite her growing need to pee. Being by herself made it worse. At least when it was the two of them, they could talk to each other, make jokes, settle into their natural repartee as best friends. By herself, though, her only company was her own brain and filling bladder. Shifting her position to a crouch to get at the wheel wells of the black Ford Fiesta she was currently washing, she thought back to her graduation two months ago, and more specifically, to the multiple accidents she had had on that day. Thanks to Angelica, nobody had found out about any of them. Lily smiled to herself with a warm sense of gratitude in her chest. That really was true friendship. Nevertheless, her accidents had come as a dire specter, haunting the otherwise bright visions of her future. Growing up, she had allowed herself to believe—albeit subconsciously—that her sympathetic spastic bladder was something she would grow out of, that it would only be a passing phase. The various specialists her parents had taken her to when she was much younger had said as much, if not quite in those words. Hadn’t they? Now that she really thought about it, she saw clearly that it had always been less of a promise and more of a best-case scenario, a palliative speculation to soften the blow of having to confess that they didn’t have a cure. So, as she grew, she had always been looking forward to “that day,” the day when she would finally be able to control herself. Since she didn’t wet herself all the time, but only more often than average, it was tricky to determine when that moment had arrived. In retrospect, she now realized that she had been expecting to be free of bladder problems upon reaching “adulthood.” And then graduation day had happened, and she, the valedictorian, had peed and pooped her pants. A frown was dominating Lily’s face by now. These were not the kinds of thoughts she should be dwelling on. Especially right now, when she really did have to go. She stood up again, having finished the initial washing, and grabbed the hose to start rinsing. As she sprayed the water out over the now spotless car, she tapped her foot in impatience and wished Angelica would get back soon, wished that there was a bathroom here in the car wash building. Where did Mr. Armstrong go when he needed to pee? She knew, of course—he went to the Taco Bell, just like they had to. He had told them as much when they first started working there. He and the owner of the Taco Bell had an understanding. She wrapped up rinsing and moved on to washing the windows. Slipping away to the bathroom across the street would take too long without someone else here. The line of cars, while not as long as usual, was nevertheless not getting any shorter, either. She grimaced as the liquid in her lower abdomen kept increasing, now feeling leaden inside her. Her stretching bladder was beginning to hurt. She had to keep telling herself that she was going to be okay, and not to entertain any false hopes of when she could go pee. It was hard to resist the temptation of thinking that if she could only finish “this one car,” then she could go use the toilet afterwards. She knew, though, that that kind of line of thinking would only make it worse. The thing she had to do now was pace herself, and settle in for the long haul. The Fiesta was done, and Lily gave an automatic wave to the driver as she maneuvered her way out of the car wash. The next vehicle then rolled up, a gray Chevy Suburban, and Lily set about to washing the sides. The SUV was larger than most of the vehicles they’d washed so far, and going over all its surfaces was a time-consuming and monotonous task, meaning Lily didn’t even think about the roof until she was almost done with the hood. How was she supposed to reach it? With the other cars that she had done, she’d been able to get the roof if she reached as far as she could on her tiptoes. On one such occasion, she had come down from stretching to see a preteen boy in the back seat staring out at her wide-eyed. Evidently, reaching that far had made her halter top ride up, exposing her midriff and the waistband of her red and white panties mere inches away from his face. She had gone red and tried to avoid making eye contact with him, and ever since did her best not to reach farther than she could. So how was she supposed to wash this roof? She stood puzzling over this for a few seconds before her bladder began to involuntarily tighten. She couldn’t stay still right now; she needed to keep her momentum going. Once she stopped, her body would take it as a signal that relief was near, and that would not be good. Casting her mind back to previous tall vehicles the two of them had washed together, Lily began to pace. What had Angelica used to get the roofs? There had to be some kind of pole with a brush on the end. Where was it? She walked from one side of the SUV to the other, then back to the first side, scanning the area for any kind of implement for getting at the roof. But she couldn’t see anything, and her leg muscles were beginning to tense up from the pressure in her bladder. No more looking. Couldn’t find a pole? Then she would have to do this the old-fashioned way. Grabbing her sponge of soapy water, she approached the left side of the hood. Then, hoping it looked as though she knew what she was doing, she carefully put her left knee on it and hoisted herself forward until she was completely on top of the hood. Once there, it was a matter of getting to her feet without falling, which was thankfully not as difficult as she had guessed it would be. She was able to guide herself with her right hand on the roof above the windshield, which helped. Now that she was standing, Lily shifted her weight precariously, trying not to slip. Her left foot she repositioned to just under the right windshield wiper, while her right foot was still supported on the reinforced metal at the left edge of the front hood. She was doing her best to neither lose her footing nor put a dent in the car’s hood. It was a good thing she weighed as little as she did. Of course, in her current unwieldy position, she was aware that her splayed legs and the amount of thigh she was showing made her pose more than a little suggestive. Especially since she had to bend over at her waist to reach the center of the roof of the Suburban—which meant in addition to the evocative angle of her slender legs, her rear end was protruding sensuously as well. If she had been less focused, she would have been at least a little afraid that Mr. Armstrong would come out of his office to be pleasantly surprised with a nice view of her butt, complete with her jean shorts riding up and beginning to expose the underside of her cheeks. Of course, whoever was driving the car had a pretty clear view himself from the front. But she couldn’t think about that. She had to hurry up and get the roof cleaned and get back down. Regrettably, there wasn’t much room by now in Lily’s conscious mind for worrying about anything other than the liquid in her bladder. She tried to focus. Just this one car. Just this one, and then she’d go run across the street to the Taco Bell and use their bathroom. At this point, she didn’t care if it meant the rest of the cars in line were left waiting; she just really had to pee. Standing with her legs apart was not helping either, not a bit. Nor was the soapy water covering her hands as she leaned further and stretched as far as she could, disregarding her earlier efforts to avoid doing so, and moved her arms in wide circles to scrub the layers of dust off of every last inch of the dark gray paint. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, with a hint of consternation. If only the stupid automated system weren’t broken! That way, the spray arch that was now above her would be taking care of this, and she would be free to go use a toilet. She tensed and untensed her thigh muscles, rising up on the balls of her feet and settling back down. It was the best she could do in her problematic stance, and she wasn’t about to grab her crotch right in front of the eyes of the car’s occupants. Gosh, even if she could, both hands were wet, and it would probably only make things worse. Closing her eyes, she let out a tenacious exhalation through her nose and clenched her jaw tight. Just get this roof done and get off. Focus on the car. Focus on the dirt. Get this done first, then think about a bathroom. Stroke after stroke, swaths of sudsy water left behind. Her arm ached with the ungainly angle she had to maintain, but she gritted her teeth and willed herself through it. Embrace the pain. You are stronger than the pain. In the humid and claustrophobic space close under the roof of the car wash, where no breeze from outside came in, Lily could feel sweat beading on her forehead. Her armpits tickled with perspiration as well, and she briefly paused to draw a forearm across her face, adjusting her arms at the same time to alleviate the uncomfortable itch in her armpits. If only she could do something for her bladder also. Heedless of her boss potentially seeing her, she momentarily bent over even further, making her bottom jut out even more prominently, and squeezed her sphincter closed as discreetly as she could, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. Breathing deeply, she was able to resume her work after several seconds, grabbing her sponge and going back to scrubbing. By now she was nearly two thirds of the way done. Her calves were threatening to cramp up and her pee was pulsating inside her, but she was determined to hold it until she could finish here. If only the dumb spray arch were working. That way, the whole car roof could be coated at once with warm, flowing, rushing… No! That was the worst thing to think about now. She squeaked out a quiet whine as her lower abdomen tensed up, and she briefly bent her knees inward as she narrowly avoided leaking in subconscious response to the thought of streaming water. Ugh, at this point, she would have to go straight to the bathroom after finishing on the roof, without even rinsing it off with the hose first. Angie would have to take care of that—whenever she got back. A torrent of liquid spouting forcefully through a narrow tube was probably something Lily needed to be as far away from as possible right now. She bit on her lip and tried to clean faster. As she switched the sponge to her other hand and worked her arm back and forth, she could feel her whole body jostling with the effort. Regrettably, it also meant she could also feel her urine sloshing side to side inside her, slamming one side of her bladder then the other. She tried to breathe deeply to stay in control. Her legs were shaking, and she was about to burst, but she had to continue—she was so close now! She had to make it. Perspiration began beading out afresh on her skin, and as her body jiggled with the motions of cleaning, it had the effect of working a large droplet of sweat free on her back, where it trickled down, tingling and vellicating, lower and lower, until it slipped into her butt crack. The sudden tickling sensation made her stiffen, thighs tense and back arched, as she gasped and tried not to leak. The light, prickly caress of the drop on her skin, down into her private parts, made a shiver go through her and her bladder. She twisted slightly in her position, steadying her breathing again and clenching her sphincter tightly shut. Her pee was throbbing, pushing to be released, and pulses of piercing desperation were assaulting her lower abdomen. Maybe she should just go now. Let Angie take care of all the rest, without even an explanation. That would be better than losing control. But if she tried to go now, essentially capitulating to the call of Nature, would she even make it to Taco Bell in time? If she let her urinary system dictate her actions, enslave her to its will, then it would have its way before she could even reach a toilet. What was the name for that again? She had read about it—something like keyhole syndrome or something. If she left in a panic, then by the time she got to the restrooms, she wouldn’t be able to hold it. No. No, that wasn’t an option. The solution would be to maintain mental control. She resumed scrubbing assiduously, defiantly fighting to keep mind over matter, even though the muscles in her legs were still taut. She recalled her valedictorian address from a couple of months before, and how it had very nearly worked in driving back the panicky throes of her bladder emergency. Maybe the same thing would work now. “You can make it, Lily,” she quietly urged herself through gritted teeth, “you can hold it. Just hold on. Just hold on. Just hold—” Just at that moment, however, the intractable spray arch, the one whose stubborn refusal to function was the sole reason for her current predicament, decided to relinquish an insolent token of assistance. There was a gurgling of air bubbles through the pipe, and then a two-second stream of water spilled rebelliously from its nozzle. In a normal circumstance, it would have done nearly nothing. However, in Lily’s awkward position, her projecting rear end was situated directly underneath the flow. It took a split second for the warmth to penetrate through to her skin, and as soon as it did, Lily gasped sharply and straightened up violently. Her free hand flew to her backside, grabbing herself in an attempt to stave off disaster. It was as if the spray arch were goading her into releasing her own hot waters, and she stood there, shaking and twitching, legs still apart, doing her utmost to keep that from happening. Unfortunately for her, though, the comforting moist heat around her groin pierced past her psychological resolve directly to her most basic bodily instincts, and the next thing she knew, matter had won over mind. She stood there, still holding herself from behind, as her sphincter gave way and pee began shooting into her underwear. Her mouth was hanging open in shock and panic as the urine rapidly heated her panties all over the front before spilling out into her shorts. Within a second a wet spot had appeared between her legs before spreading out over her left thigh down to the cuff of her jean shorts. She squeaked, trying hard to stop spurting, as the liquid started dripping from her left leg, faster and faster. She clenched and tensed and twisted, doing everything she could to halt the flow, knees bent inwards, wishing she could just close her legs—or better yet, be sitting on a toilet. And then, quite to her surprise, it stopped. The pain was still pounding in her bladder and pee was gently dripping off her left inner thigh, but she had cut off the flow. She didn’t move, too incredulous to trust this sudden apparent miracle. Had she actually done it? Had that day arrived? For once, had she been able to wrest bodily autonomy back from the tyranny of her weak bladder? Her gasps began to settle down into calmer, more regular eupnea. A tiny, relieved smile even bloomed on her face. She, Lily Wells, the girl with the sympathetic spastic bladder, had just thwarted a full-blown accident. At last! After what couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds but felt much longer, she cautiously removed her hand from under her butt. It was wet, but more with the water that had dripped on her than with her own urine. Looking down on herself, she could see the pretty obvious wetness from her momentary loss of control, but other than the few drops still dribbling lackadaisically from the cuff of her shorts, she convinced herself that it wasn’t too bad. She could most likely splash some wash water over herself and nobody would think anything was amiss. But she should probably do it now and get going—she still really had to pee. At least her boss hadn’t been out of his office. This way, no one had seen— Then, with a surge of dread that felt akin to nausea, Lily’s face went gray as she remembered that she was still standing directly over the windshield of an occupied car. In the—ahem—heat of the moment, it had slipped her mind. The reflections off the glass had kept her from seeing anyone inside the car, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see her. Not only could they see her, but she had given them the most graphic display possible of her desperation and then her brief leak. While her face was hidden from their view, everything from the waist down was mere inches from the glass, and with her legs spread apart, nothing of her miniature accident was left to the imagination. They would have seen from the moment the dark stain first sprouted right over her private parts all the way to the little trickle of urine that was now finishing its descent down her left calf. And the pee that dripped off her shorts—she now saw that it had fallen onto the windshield itself, and had nearly completed its pilgrimage downwards to meet the dormant windshield wiper. Awful, overwhelming embarrassment filled her soul, until she thought she might drown. Naturally, she had wet her pants before, many times, and many times in front of someone. But it had never been so obvious, so clearly on display. It was as if this car hood were a diminutive stage where the passengers were now gathered to spectate her humiliation. It couldn’t have felt any worse if she had been naked. The degradation of it sank down into the pit of her stomach, and then kept plunging further until it reached her already dangerously full bladder, snapping the tenuous and fragile control she had left. Lily made a kind of strangling sound as she choked out a loud sob and peed her pants. She leaned forward over the car roof and squeezed her eyes shut, pushing out two tears as she did so. She knew her face was hot and crimson with shame, and it was undoubtedly for the best that the people in the car couldn’t see it. Sadly, what they could all too clearly see was the dark pee stain extending itself all the way across both thighs and the cascades of golden warmth that sprayed over their windshield as Lily wet herself from embarrassment. Streams of urine trickled down her thin and trembling legs, soaking into her socks and tennis shoes and splitting into discrete cataracts which splattered over the glass and the hood. In the otherwise noiseless interior of the car wash, the splashing, spattering sound of her accident echoed loudly in her burning ears, and more tears slid down her cheeks. She continued to go to the bathroom in her clothes for a little over twenty seconds before she was finally able to halt the flow. By that time, her shorts were thoroughly drenched in a wide wet spot around her crotch, stretching out to the outer edges of both hips and up almost to her waistband. She stood there, still shaking, unable to move just yet as the wetness against her skin cooled and the remnants of her pee snaked their way down her legs and dripped off her shorts and her thighs. Though not fully empty, she was feeling much more relieved, but this was eclipsed by her profound mortification. She knew her face was still a deep scarlet, and she wished very strongly that she could simply disappear—disappear without having to face the other customers, without having to explain to Angie, without being seen at all. Especially not by the strangers whose car she had just peed on. At last, after wallowing for nearly ten seconds in her self-pitying trepidation, she finally took a deep breath, drew one hand across her face, and straightened up. Then, as delicately as she could, she raised her left foot and gently placed it next to her right one on the edge of the hood. The movement pressed more urine out of her soaked shorts, making it sprinkle over her tennis shoes. At the same time, her sopping panties, having noticeably cooled, were pressed up against her groin. Both sensations, each highly disagreeable in its own way, made her wince and redden afresh. Still trying to avoid a confrontation with the occupants of the car, Lily let out a long, slow exhalation, steeled her nerves, and then hopped off the hood to the concrete floor of the car wash. Without saying a word or even turning her head at all, she walked resolutely away from the Suburban toward the door that led to the office and maintenance room. She was vaguely aware that any cars behind the one she had been washing could possibly also see her wet shorts, and she quickened her pace. Once through the door, she slumped against the wall and tried not to burst into tears. Staring out through the tiny, dusty window in the door, she watched the Suburban, waiting for the inevitable complaint that would be coming. She just couldn’t endure being seen, or worse—confronted—like this. Even if she lost her job because of this incident, let it at least be after she’d had a chance to steal away and clean herself up. And finish using the bathroom. She still had to go. But to her great surprise and relief, the car simply turned on its windshield washers for a few seconds and then drove out. Lily watched it in stunned disbelief. Was she in the clear? She let out a laugh of respite from her pent-up anxiety, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and finishing with a tiny, pathetic sob of overtaxed emotions, several tears dripping down her cheeks once more. Once she’d gotten a hold of herself, she looked down at her shorts and pulled the cuffs up to survey the damage, sending a cascade of droplets out over the tile floor as she did so. Since she’d been leaning forward when she peed, the wet stain was limited virtually exclusively to the front. If she could find some way of covering herself from the front, she could maybe sneak out with no one the wiser. If, though. It was the middle of summer, so she didn’t have any kind of jacket to try to use—not to mention it would look pretty strange to see someone with anything tied around their waist in the front instead of the back. Maybe she would have to call Angie and get her help. What troubled her was not so much having to confess to Angie that she’d wet herself—heaven knew she was used to it enough by now. No, it was the disconcerting way in which she’d wet herself this time. She was more familiar than she liked with the humiliation that followed an accident, caused by having an accident. But in this case, the humiliation had come first…and then she’d peed herself. She’d heard about losing bladder control from excitement or laughing too hard, and she’d experienced a loss of control due to fright—most recently, just two months ago—but could other emotions do the same thing? Was it possible…was it conceivable…to literally pee your pants out of embarrassment? That was a terrifying concept. If it were true, it could basically relegate her to a vicious cycle: as soon as the idea of needing to pee entered her head, it would make her think of when she had had to go worse, which would make it harder to hold, which would remind her of wetting her pants, which would make her have to go even more, which would bring to mind the shame of having an accident—and then she would have an accident. In response to these panicked ideas flashing through her mind, Lily could feel her bladder tightening again, and she knew she had to hurry up and get Angie’s help to get out unnoticed. Peeking back through the window, she still couldn’t see her anywhere, though she did see the line of cars—up to four now—undoubtedly getting increasingly impatient. Going out the way she came in was a no-no. Turning her head the other direction, she weighed her options. Mr. Armstrong was probably in his office, and she definitely didn’t want him to see her like this. The only other choice was the maintenance room. Normally, she and Angelica weren’t allowed in there without Mr. Armstrong’s supervision, but right now it was the best choice she had. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, ready to call Angelica, and stealthily twisted the doorknob, careful not to make any noise. Just then, a voice from off to her side made her yelp and jump nearly out of her skin. Like a ghostly apparition manifesting itself out of nowhere, Mr. Armstrong was suddenly there, looking at her inquisitively. His question was innocuous enough; just a simple “Lily? What are you doing?” It held no undertones of accusation or anger, only simple, straightforward curiosity. Nevertheless, it was enough to make her heartrate shoot up and a surge of adrenaline send prickly sensations all down her spine. She hurriedly dropped her hand from the door and faced him, her expression full of surprise, guilt, chagrin, and fear. Her breathing had also quickened, and as Mr. Armstrong’s question hung in the air, the only sounds Lily could hear were her own nervous respirations, themselves nearly drowned out by the thumping of her heart in her eardrums. Mr. Armstrong’s questioning gaze roved from her face to the maintenance room door, and then from the door to Lily’s shorts. She could see him raise his eyebrows slightly as he took in the obvious wetness over her crotch, and, if he looked closely enough, doubtless still on her legs. Lily could feel her bladder muscles constricting again as her face once more flushed. A small jocular smile appeared on Mr. Armstrong’s lips as he reestablished eye contact with her and asked, his voice congenial, “Did ya, uh, did ya have a little accident out there?” He chuckled, and Lily forced out a nervous chuckle also. She hoped—she hoped desperately—that he assumed she had merely gotten water splashed on her. In a car wash, surely that was the most reasonable conclusion. But then, with a haunting dismay, she remembered the car she had peed on. Yes, they had driven away now, but what if they called in to complain later? Even if they didn’t, they would never forget the time that the girl at the car wash had wet her pants on their hood. And now—now she was standing right in front of her boss with those same wet clothes. A shiver, only half of cold, went through her. Even if he didn’t connect the dots, it didn’t change the fact that the evidence of her incontinence was staring him right in the face. She wanted to run away, to vanish, but she had nowhere to go. While Mr. Armstrong was standing here in the hallway, the maintenance room was off-limits, and the only other choice was to go back out to the line of cars—at least some of which had probably also seen her pee herself. She was rooted to the spot in anxiety, her legs shaking and her pee swelling up inside her. Both Mr. Armstrong’s chuckle and Lily’s reciprocation had died down, leaving only an awkward silence in which he watched her in slightly uncomfortable confusion and she gaped back in fearful discomfiture. As she stared in timid apprehension, wishing he would go back to his office, she could suddenly hear, over the buzz of the fluorescent lights and the muffled outside noises, a faint tic…tic…tic tic tic tic. Before she could place what the noise was, however, she saw a change come over Mr. Armstrong’s face. His expression suddenly became one of unnerved sensibility and his eyes dropped to Lily’s legs again. Lily followed suit, looking down at herself also, and gasped. The wetness on her thighs had been refreshed into a shiny black stain directly under her crotch and extending down her left leg. Evidently, without even feeling it, she had been leaking into her shorts, which were now dripping her urine down from her left cuff onto the tile floor, where it made little audible splashes over her tennis shoes as it formed a miniature puddle. Lily was aghast and her face was ashen as she raised it back toward Mr. Armstrong. Her mouth was hanging open, and her eyes were wide with shock. She tried to swallow, tried to form words, to find something to say that would explain this all away and take that look of combined uneasiness, disgust, and pity off his face. She began to speak. “I—” Her voice cracked and failed. He looked her in the eye, and she could feel all the humiliation rushing over her once more. “I—I—” But no words came, and she felt ready to be swallowed up in indelible ignominy. Her face went hot with shame, and so did her underwear as she lost all control again. She stood there, jaw slack and face white, as the sheer embarrassment caused her to wet her pants a second time. She was frozen, unable to move, as her pee flooded swelteringly into her panties, reheating them before continuing out through her shorts. Now that she was standing straight, she could feel her urine go up in the back, the calefaction spreading out under her butt and up in the middle. It also trickled down her legs beneath her rear end, soaking into her socks again and pooling around her feet. Separate streams broke off from between her thighs and off her calves as well, splattering noisily into the puddle and making it grow around her tennis shoes. Lily looked down at the mess she was making, brushing her hair out of her face, and then covered her face with her hands. She kept wetting for about twelve seconds, the sensation of her pee flowing down her quivering legs and splashing on the floor seeming to stretch the time out interminably. At last, trembling with stunned disgrace, she was empty, the final feeble spurts making the remaining few drops dribble down into her puddle, which was now close to two feet wide. Lily didn’t want to move her hands, didn’t want to look at Mr. Armstrong…or be looked at by him. She couldn’t believe she had just peed herself right in front of her boss. While not the first time she had had an accident in front of someone, it was made so much worse by the fact that she was now, for all intents and purposes, an adult. She was too old to not be able to control her bladder. How would he react? Would he fire her, having learned now what he didn’t know when he’d hired her: that this decently self-confident young woman, the top of her class, had apparently never been properly potty trained? Or if he didn’t let her go, how could she face him again after this? Her miserable internal despondency was interrupted by Mr. Armstrong’s voice, sounding almost as uncomfortable as she was. “Oh…oh dear. Well. Um, well. I suppose maybe you ought to head home to change. And…why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the day off.” Lily dejectedly uncovered her face, sniffled, and pushed a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Still not making eye contact, she nodded and shifted her leg, making a squish and sending a new fusillade of drops to the ground. Mr. Armstrong cleared his throat. “But this will need to be cleaned up first. There’s a mop and bucket in the maintenance room. Just…get enough up so no one will slip.” Then, before Lily could even react, the sound of the phone ringing from inside his office drew him away and he was gone. She wanted to object, wanted to protest the humiliation of being made to mop up her own pee puddle—but in reality, what would she say? So she was an adult now, was she? That meant taking responsibility, including cleaning up her own messes—in this case, literally. Slipping into the maintenance room, she tried to move carefully to keep her fast-cooling wet clothes from dripping any more. Before getting the mop and bucket, though, she turned on her phone screen again to text Angelica to explain what happened and ask if she could take the car to drive home. Then, without waiting for a reply, she grabbed what she needed, took a deep breath, and set to her task. ~*~*~*~*~ By the time Angelica returned, Lily had finished cleaning up the floor as best she could and was waiting bashfully in the maintenance room. The line of cars had become increasingly impatient, and the one in the front and the one in the back had both given up and left. Angelica was greeted by the sight of Mr. Armstrong, wearing his button-down shirt and dress pants, busily working away at the hood of the Ford Focus now in the front. As soon as he caught her in his peripheral vision, he straightened up, stretched his back with a grimace, wiped his forehead, and called out to her. “Angelica! Good, you’re back. We’re a little backed up here. Can you take over?” Then, without waiting for her to ask any questions, he dropped his voice. “I let Lily off for the rest of the day. She…um, had a little…accident, I’m afraid. So if I can’t get a technician out here to fix the system, we’ll probably have to close the wash early, since we can’t keep up with the work like this. I’m sorry.” Angelica nodded and gave a slightly somber smile. She held her phone up. “Yeah, Lily told me. I just need to give her the car key so she can go home.” Mr. Armstrong breathed a sigh and turned a little red, evidently relieved by not having to tiptoe around what had really happened. The whole front of his shirt was damp with exertion, and he took off his glasses to draw an arm across his face. “I need to go back to trying to get find someone to come out here. Just let me know if you need anything.” He handed her the sponge he had been working with and used a hand to stretch his back again before retreating into the side door again. Angelica gave a quick “I’ll be right back” hand gesture to the driver of the car and then followed. She knocked lightly on the maintenance door. “Lil? It’s me.” A moment later, the door cracked open and she could see Lily’s glum face peering out. To the questioning gaze, Angelica replied gently, “Mr. Armstrong’s in his office. It’s just me.” Lily dispiritedly swung the door open all the way, letting Angelica see the extent of her accident. The entire front of her shorts was dark with urine in a wide radius around her crotch and down to the cuffs. There was no hiding what had happened. “Here, maybe if you carry something in front of you and I walk directly behind you, we can keep this from being seen. I’ll put a trash bag down on my car seat.” Angelica was in her problem-solving mode, assessing the status of Lily’s clothes without the least bit of shock. Lily had peed herself enough times in front of her—they had both peed themselves enough times in front of each other—that it didn’t faze her anymore. On the one hand, this even-keeled response was invaluable in her friendship with Lily, but on the other hand, it occasionally made her forget what it was like for her. Now, as she got no response, she looked full in Lily’s face. The bashful dejection written there snapped her back to the reality of the situation, that her best friend needed a friend right now, not a life coach. Her features softening, she moved in to give Lily a hug, leaning in to avoid touching her wet clothes. Pulling out of the hug, Angelica handed the car key to Lily. “Here you go. Just make sure to come pick me up at the end of the shift, unless I call you earlier. Mr. Armstrong thinks we may have to close early today.” Lily nodded in understanding. “Sure thing, Angie.” Then she blew out a long breath and ran her hands through her hair. A small smile chanced its way onto her face. “Thank you.” “Of course, Lil! Come on, you’d do the same for me. We’re here for each other.” It took a few minutes for them to arrange a system that blocked the view of Lily’s shorts. In the end, Lily walked out carrying a box of paper towels conveniently in front of her groin, and Angelica followed close behind with a box of cleaner. They walked out as casually as they could manage, Angelica giving a conciliatory expression at the driver, who had thrown up his hands at her in restless irritation. As soon as they could, they got Lily set up discreetly in the car. Angelica then jogged back inside, wanting to keep the cars from waiting any longer. A tingle in her bladder indicated that she would need to get a bathroom break herself at some point. Ordering the large soft drink with her lunch meal had probably been overdoing it. Still, it would have to wait. ~*~*~*~*~ An hour later, Angelica was sorely regretting her decision. Even with the “Hand Wash Only” sign in front, enough cars were coming in to keep her occupied non-stop with no opportunity to step away. Mr. Armstrong, meanwhile, was busy contacting anyone and everyone he could who might be able to come and service their computer system, so he couldn’t cover for her. As the red Toyota Corolla exited the car wash, she stepped to the side to refill her soap bucket, stretching her aching back from side to side in the process. If only she could do something about her aching bladder. Of course, the fact that Lily had already wet her shorts was weighing heavily on her mind at this point. Yes, because of Lily’s condition, she was more prone to incontinence. Nevertheless, there had been multiple inexplicable incidents where the two had both had accidents, and it was putting Angelica on higher alert. She was determined for today not to be one of those times. As such, she was keeping careful tabs on her urgency level, resolved that as soon as it got high enough, she would just tell Mr. Armstrong she was going to use the bathroom. Better safe than sorry. The only problem, naturally, with paying such close attention to her bladder was that she was unable to ignore the signals it gave off as all the Canada Dry she’d had over lunch was now making its way through her. Stepping up to the white Chevy Impala that had rolled up, she could feel the liquid weighing heavily in her lower abdomen. Clenching her jaw and wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, she started scouring away at the dirt highlighted clearly against the white paint. This was the fourth car she’d had to wash since lunch, and all her muscles were protesting. Reaching out over the middle of the hood, she wondered what time it was. She didn’t have a chance to pull out her phone while her hands were constantly dripping with soap suds. As she was working the sponge back and forth, trying to be as thorough as she could, she cast a weary look back toward the door that led to the office hall. She had hoped that Mr. Armstrong would have an answer by now as to whether someone would be coming or not. The interminable hand washing, with no breaks and very little breeze to move the torpidly humid air inside the car wash, and especially her growing need to pee, were all chipping away at her vigor. Her hand motions were slowing down, and she paused for a moment to switch hands before resuming. Just then, as if in response to her longsuffering lassitude, the door to the office opened and Mr. Armstrong stepped out. His face bore an optimistic expression, and Angelica smiled tiredly on one side of her mouth as she faced him. He spoke. “Good news! I was able to get someone to come today and fix the sensor array.” Angelica nodded gladly, letting out a relieved sigh. “Oh, wonderful. I don’t think I could keep up with cleaning all these cars on my own.” Mr. Armstrong’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “Yeah. I’m sorry about that. But here, he should be here in about half an hour, so let me help you with washing until he gets here.” Angelica smiled in gratitude. She didn’t think most bosses at jobs like this would be so caring toward their employees. “Thank you.” He nodded in response before taking over cleaning the car roof. Now with the workforce doubled, the job didn’t seem quite so daunting. Of course, with her workload alleviated, Angelica considered asking for a break to alleviate her bladder as well. She paused, opened her mouth to ask, then closed it again, reconsidering. The technician would be here in half an hour, right? Probably once he came, there couldn’t be any cars inside the wash corridor, so she would get a break from this. That would be fine. She would just hold it until then. Even now, as they wrapped up the washing of the Impala and she began rinsing, she witnessed Mr. Armstrong walk down toward the entrance to pull a chain across, not allowing any more vehicles to enter. After the Impala there were another three cars. That should be enough work for the next thirty minutes. She hosed down the Chevy thoroughly, cheerful about the news and also trying to keep her mind off her growing need to pee. She told herself that thirty minutes would be just fine, no problem at all. If only she didn’t have to go as much as she did right now—and if only her job didn’t involve constant flowing water. As she adjusted the hose in her hands, she tried to dissociate the act of rinsing from the reality of rushing liquid, complete with the noises of splashing and dripping. As they moved on to the next car, she briefly paused to lift up one leg, then the other. Attempting to block out the various sights and sounds of water required her to lose herself in her thoughts, but it was difficult to think about anything other than finding a bathroom. Especially considering what had happened to Lily. Angelica stopped and shook her head to clear it. She couldn’t keep letting her thoughts dwell on that! Sure, she needed to pee, but she could hold it until a break came. And if she began to enter the danger zone, she would go sooner. Right now, though, she would hold it. She couldn’t go through life constantly afraid of having an accident. She needed to be able to will herself into control, mind over matter. She needed to keep these incidents from continuing—instances like the one two months prior. The memories of that night drifted back to her. She and Brian had finally been able to share their feelings for each other, and now they were boyfriend and girlfriend. What Brian didn’t know, though—at least, Angelica hoped he didn’t know—was that she had wet herself when they had gone in for their first kiss. Now, two months into their relationship, she had never let on about that accident or any of the others that she had had, besides the one he had witnessed years before. Deep down, she felt that it was inevitable that she would have to confess her periodical incontinences to him, especially if they continued. Which is why they couldn’t continue. She didn’t want to imagine what his response would be. Without her even realizing it, these turbulent musings had been unconsciously successful in distracting her, and before she noticed, she was refilling the soap bucket to finish washing the last car. Good! Relief was in sight. The promise of soon deliverance from the pain in her lower abdomen made her muscles tense up, and she had to drop to a crouch as she filled the bucket again, breathing evenly to stay in control. She clenched, crossing one leg over the other, until the wave had passed. Okay, she should really go find a restroom now. But she was nearly done! She simply had to wrap up this one final car, and then she would be free. When she returned to the car, she could see that Mr. Armstrong was standing by the entryway, talking to someone. Apparently the technician had arrived. That was good. Once he went to work, she would probably have to be out of the way, and she would promptly cross the street and empty herself at the Taco Bell there. She stepped quickly back over to the car and began vigorously scrubbing at the trunk, revitalized by being so close to relief. Just then, though, she heard a voice she didn’t expect call her name. In surprise, she spun her head around to see the speaker. There, standing next to Mr. Armstrong and approaching, stood not one technician, but two. The first was a man probably in his late fifties, presumably the lead technician. But next to him was a much younger man, ostensibly one who was learning the trade. Not just any young man, either. One with familiar auburn hair, bright eyes, and plucky smile. It was Brian. Angelica’s eyes lit up upon seeing her boyfriend. It clicked now—he was currently doing his apprenticeship to be an electrician—but it still hadn’t crossed her mind that he might be one of the people Mr. Armstrong would contact. “Brian! Hey!” As he strode forward to give her a hug, she giggled as she had to be careful not to touch her soapy hands to his shirt. He squeezed her tightly, and she gritted her teeth against the sudden new pressure on her bladder. Finally he pulled away, still grinning boyishly. Angelica was smiling broadly on one side. “I didn’t expect to see you today.” She rocked on her feet in a way that she hoped looked coquettish. “I know, me neither. I didn’t piece it together until we were driving out here that this might be the car wash that you worked at. I texted you to ask about it.” Angelica held up her wet hands. “Yeah, I haven’t exactly been able to check my phone.” Both of them laughed, and Brian’s eyes twinkled. “Hey, since I’m here now, what do you say you and me go out for ice cream after we’re done?” Before she could answer, he turned his head in response to his boss calling his name. “I’ve got to go now. Go out after?” He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss. “Sure, that sounds fun!” Angelica called after him. He pointed both hands at her in confirmation before slow-jogging over to where the head technician stood with Mr. Armstrong. Angelica returned to working on this, the last car to wash, with a newfound pep and a smile on her face. What a nice surprise, and what better way to finish the day than with a surprise date with Brian. It was almost enough to take her mind off the pain in her abdomen. Almost, but not quite. She really had to go. Finishing the last of the scrubbing, she hurriedly dumped out her soap bucket and shook her hands to rid them of the suds still clinging to them. She grabbed the hose and began rinsing the car off. It was just this and then a final window wash, and she would be free to go use the bathroom. As she worked, she periodically glanced back over at Brian. He looked so handsome and manly, talking through the different electronic components with his boss like a true professional. His hair, his eyes, the look of concentration on his face as he nodded in understanding, the way he was leaning on the wall next to the lead technician—oh, she could just watch him and never stop. She giggled to herself as it hit her once again that he was her boyfriend. It still hadn’t fully sunken in, and she hoped that it never would. Even now, just thinking about it gave her butterflies in her stomach. Unfortunately, the fluttery feeling was not limited to her stomach. Down in her bladder, swollen as it now was from her large drink over lunch, twitching, pulsing sensations were prickling. Using a hose wasn’t particularly helping, either. Crossing one leg over the other, she tried to focus, focus on finishing up, then she could go and just pee. It also wasn’t helping her situation that Brian was here. Of course, she was exuberant at his unexpected arrival and wouldn’t change that…but at the same time, she thought of her earlier inner turmoil at the possibility of having to confess her accidents to him, and how right after that, he had arrived. What did it mean? She had wet her pants the first time they had been alone together, and then again when they solidified their relationship two months ago. What made it even more ominous was the fact that she had come close to peeing herself that day, but didn’t, before he met up with her; and then afterwards she did pee herself. She didn’t, he arrived, and then she did. Not to mention her experience last year at the amusement park—one that involved the bizarre connection between wetting herself, sexual attraction to Brian, and getting spanked—which she still hadn’t fully sorted out in her head and preferred not to think about. All these thoughts now were only making her condition worse. As she used the hose for the last of the rinsing, she paused to briefly bend over, waiting for the wave of desperate pain to pass. Blushing a little, she glanced over to make sure Brian hadn’t seen her. Thankfully, he was still occupied with his own work. Man, this was getting bad. She almost wished she weren’t almost done. It would at least make more sense to ask for a break in the middle of work than when there couldn’t be more than two minutes left. Taking a deep breath and giving her body a little shake, Angelica resolutely grabbed the squeegee and took to working down the windshield. Her strokes were rapid and forceful, allowing no second-guessing or attention to detail. It didn’t matter at this point. The only thing that mattered was getting done with this so she could go pee! Stroke, stroke, stroke, dip, squeeze—the seconds ticked by as tingling needles went through her bladder. Almost done. She was almost done. She was going to make it. She wasn’t going to have another accident in front of Brian! Windshield done, now rear window. Rear window done, now side windows...she had to bob down and up, lifting one leg up behind the other…wipe away the water…her muscles were all taut, all down into her legs…and then she was done! At last! As the car drove slowly forward to exit the car wash, Angelica quickly stowed the squeegee and bucket back in their place off to the side. Then, in as dignified a manner as she could, she straightened herself up and walked briskly over to where the three men were standing. As she approached, Brian looked up and smiled at her again. She returned it, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear, and doing her best not to look like she needed to pee as badly as she did. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Armstrong? That was the last car.” Mr. Armstrong looked up with a face of tired satisfaction. “Ah, great. Thank you so much, Angelica. I know today wasn’t a normal day, what with…everything that happened. You can head home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” His attention was drawn away again by the technician. Angelica nodded and turned. She didn’t know how much longer Brian would be, or any of the details of their date tonight, but those could all wait. Right now priority number one was going number one. The Taco Bell bathroom was calling out to her, promising near relief. She stepped mincingly back the way she came, toward the exit. Her leg muscles were tensed up all the way down into the arches of her feet, and she put her weight on the balls of her feet as she walked. Her urine was as heavy as liquid gold inside her, and all that mass was bearing down, down, down on her overtaxed sphincter. She sucked in a deep breath as the ache of her bladder once more mounted, hovered, and descended. She wanted to move faster, but it was difficult to walk quickly when her butt was clenched as tightly as it was. As she strode down the now-empty car lane she felt a sudden jab of pain in her right foot. Something had gotten inside her shoe, forcing her to hobble to a stop. Irritated at the unwelcome interruption, she shuffled haltingly toward the railing separating the car lane from the maintenance walkway. Coming to a stop next to one of the main roller brushes, she used the railing for balance while she pulled off her tennis shoe and inverted it, banging the sole to dislodge whatever was inside. A small concrete pebble dropped out, and, satisfied and increasingly desperate, Angelica reached down to put on her shoe again. Just then, though, a mechanical whir, deafening in the otherwise placid tunnel, boomed out, resonating in the air. Angelica jumped, startled by the machinery evidently coming back to life. Unfortunately, the abrupt roar momentarily jerked her out of her precarious state of bladder control, and a one-second spurt of pee slipped past her defenses and out into her underwear. She gasped, grabbing her crotch and crossing one leg over the other to make sure no more escaped. Then, with a blush, she turned back toward where Brian was standing next to his boss and a very pleased-looking Mr. Armstrong to make sure no one had seen her. Uncrossing her legs, she pulled her hand out from between her thighs and checked to see the damage. There was a miniscule dark spot, right at the center of her crotch, but it was minimal. As long as she made it the rest of the way to the toilet without incident, most likely nobody would notice. However, with the noise all around her and her attention fixed on her shorts, she was oblivious to the shouts of warning coming from the other end of the car wash, and oblivious as well to the motorized whine as the roller brush to her right revved to life. Already its flat, leather-like synthetic rubber bristles were too close for comfort, but this particular brush ought to have been replaced a long time ago. About two thirds of the way down, where the brush would normally slather a mixture of cleaning chemicals and water against the side mirrors, repeated use had left several of the strands partially detached and hanging loosely and limply several feet lower than the rest. Now, though, as the motor suddenly spun up with a loud whoosh, those elongated strips found themselves swinging out and lining up at the perfect height—not of a car door, but of Angelica’s rear end. She let out a shriek as the rubber slapped across her cheeks, knocking her forward, where she slammed against the walkway railing. The force of the impact caused another jet of urine to leak out, but she didn’t even have a chance to react to it, since before she could even move, the errant bristles swung around again, smacking her across the backside once more. She was pinned, unable to move, unable to escape, her bladder still on the verge of exploding. The roller brush was rapidly gaining momentum, however, and the rubber struck out again, then again, faster and faster. Smack…smack…smack…smack…smack—the brush continued its beating, the synthetic material mercilessly chastising her bottom. The skin on the backs of her thighs was by now bright red where visible, and still the punishment continued. Her entire rear was on fire with smarting pain, her bladder throbbing with pain of a different kind. Over the din of the machinery and her own cries of agony, she could hear Brian’s voice, now much closer behind her, shouting her name in distress, fear in his voice. She half turned her head, but she couldn’t see him or turn any more. Still, she could tell he was as close as he could get safely. Knowing that Brian was right there brought a small morsel of comfort to Angelica’s otherwise-panicked brain. As long as he was there, surely he would be able to get her out of this. However, that part of her mind was massively overshadowed by the realization that he had a clear view of her butt as she was pinned there, with its muscles tight and her legs open, as the machine delivered its brutal spanking. And on top of it, she was about to burst. Her cheeks were hot and red with embarrassment, and her other cheeks were hot and red for an entirely different reason. But then, receiving this corporal punishment brought back to the surface what had happened at the amusement park close to exactly one year before. She had climaxed—twice—and then peed her pants—twice—and both times she had imagined what it would be like if she were spanked by Brian. And now here she was, getting spanked—and here Brian was, too, standing behind her. The pain in her bottom began to take on a strange new sensation, as though her pain receptors were overlapping with the pleasure parts of her brain and releasing a flood of endorphins. At this rate, that wasn’t the only flood they would be releasing, either…but Angelica could no longer help herself. Her breathing and heartrate quickened, her yelps of pain morphing into involuntary grunts reminiscent of her time on the roller coaster, and she found herself unconsciously bending at the waist and protruding her butt out into the path of the straps. Now that the skin was stretched more tightly across her rear end, the rubber strips stung even more severely as they waled her buttocks and thighs, and the pain was mounting more and more…and close by, in the front, the pain in her bladder was also mounting, about to break…and right in between the two was that special place, untouched for a year, now being galvanized back into life, ecstatic, electric pleasure swelling up in it… …and Brian was standing right there… Angelica screamed and wet her pants. All the pent-up urine, trapped for hours and begging for release, escaped in jubilant freedom. It sprayed forcefully into her panties, saturating them immediately in warm, sizzling moistness. A second later, the wetness blossomed on her shorts also, spreading out underneath her right butt cheek. She stood there, breathless and shaking, as the dark and shiny stain extended down her leg, meeting the cuff of her shorts and spilling off her shaking leg to puddle on the concrete. Her face was deeply flushed, and her grunts were now becoming panting moans as her hot pee flooded her underwear, the heat only serving to further fuel her waxing sexual excitement. As more and more urine pumped out of her, the wet spot on her shorts extended down her left leg as well and continued expanding broadly underneath her butt. The glistening sheen was now transforming the smack of the rubber strands into a sharp splat sound, each recurrent blow sending a flourish of sparkling golden droplets scattering as it connected with the sodden material of Angelica’s shorts. Still gripping the railing with white knuckles, she dropped her head, gasping for breath, and watched as the darkness grew across the front of her crotch as well, expanding inexorably outwards down her thighs and shooting out in a stream over the floor. The sheer bliss of relieving herself, the warmth surrounding her genitalia, and the feeling as if Brian were putting her over his knee all built together towards a mounting orgasm. Even the embarrassment of him standing right there witnessing her accident was somehow only turning her on more. As slap after slap sent showers of coruscating pee drops flying every which way, sprinkling and tinkling over the floor like a Jackson Pollock of humiliation, the wave finally crested. Angelica screamed again, a throaty outburst of sheer carnal euphoria, as she climaxed. Her knees buckled, and she sagged against the railing, supported only by her arms. The pulses of pleasure coursed through her body, amplified by the fact that she was still peeing. Her underwear felt not only wet but also slippery, as more than just urine had been expelled into them. By now, the technician had been able to kill the power to the system, and the brush began slowly spinning down. The swats against her grew weaker and weaker until dying away altogether. Her pee trickled to a stop, though she wasn’t empty yet, the last vestiges of it snaking down her trembling calves and soaking her ankle socks and tennis shoes. Drips from her crotch and cuffs plip plip plipped into the puddle around her feet, which was by now about three feet wide. Angelica herself was also coming down from her high, her breathing still labored and hoarse. It felt as though all the tension in her entire body was dissipating, and she no longer had the strength to hold herself up. She collapsed onto her knees and began falling backwards when she felt Brian’s strong arms suddenly there, keeping her from falling. Her head lolled to the side and beheld Brian’s face, full of fear and worry, searching hers, making sure she was all right. In the aftermath of her orgasm, it was the handsomest thing she had ever seen. Her face was still warm with an erotic flush and her eyelids were drooping with dreamy languor. If she had had the energy, she would have kissed him. But right then, her rear end sank onto her feet, and the angry red marks left by the rubber paddling sent out a rush of fiery stinging pain. She yelped, jerked forward, and grabbed her poor smarting butt with her hands, trying to soothe away the flaming temper of where she had been cruelly chastised. The newfound stab of pain made all her muscles tighten, like electrical wires in frog legs, and as she leaned forward on her knees, hands on her bottom and Brian’s arms around her, her bladder seized up and she started peeing in her pants again. The pee refreshed the tepid moistness into hot wetness, and she felt as her panties became heavy again and the liquid spread itself down the insides of her thighs once more before spilling out of her shorts to puddle around her knees. She didn’t move, didn’t try to stop, didn’t try to fight the course of Nature. Instead, she merely stayed on her knees, holding her behind, as she emptied herself of every last drop inside her. At last, once she was done, she still didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She stayed stock still, facing forward, only breathing heavily and occasionally wincing from the needles of pain in her still-sensitive backside. Brian didn’t say anything either, but she could tell from how he was moving next to her that he was giving some kind of hand gestures to the other two, and since they were staying at the other end of the car wash, she gathered that he was apparently motioning for them to stay where they were. Angelica was grateful at his attempt to protect her dignity, but she couldn’t be sure that they hadn’t seen her accident anyway. She also felt an impenetrable labyrinth of convoluted emotions about Brian being here right now. On the one hand, of course, she wished she could just disappear. This was now the third time she had wet herself in front of him, though he hadn’t been aware of the second time, and it was worse even than the first time. One accident could be chalked up to a freak occurrence, but two? How could she ever explain this to him? And yet…on the other hand, she felt at peace. Partly, no doubt, because they were now officially a couple, and she didn’t have to worry so much about what he thought about her. And the other part—could she even make sense of it? Ever since she had met Lily, she had begun to have periodic accidents, though always when Lily did, today being no exception. But it hadn’t been until peeing her pants at the amusement park the year before that her accidents had taken on a different feel, one connected inextricably to Brian. No, that wasn’t quite right. It had been before that, when she had first seen him again at Brenda Davis’s house. In a way she couldn’t even make sense of herself, if wetting herself apart from Lily felt wrong, wetting herself in front of Brian almost felt right. She remembered reading somewhere that friends sit next to each other, and lovers sit facing each other. Likewise, Lily, as her friend, was by her side to share the experience with her; but Brian, as her boyfriend, was in front of her to witness it. Still, while this peculiar new tranquility was all well and good in theory, right here and now she was still in sopping clothes and kneeling in her own puddle. She could feel Brian gently pulling her to her feet, and she managed to get up with only minimal complaints from her rear end. As she got her feet underneath herself again, a final spray of droplets was released down into the puddle, with a rivulet or two also snaking down her legs. Brian delicately pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay, Angie? Do you need me to drive you home?” Angelica took a deep breath and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear from where it had been matted onto her sweaty face, then nodded. Without turning back even to explain himself to his boss, Brian walked her to the exit and to the strip mall’s parking lot. Once there, though, he put a hand on his face in defeated realization and let out a “Crap.” Angelica faced him. “What’s wrong?” Brian sighed deeply, the sound of someone trying in vain to fix something they broke. “I forgot that we drove here in the company van. I don’t have any way of getting you home.” His voice sounded so sympathetic that Angelica almost wanted to cry. “It’s okay, Brian. Trust me. I’ll call Lily, like I was going to do anyway. She’ll come and pick me up.” Brian met her gaze, his eyes full of compassion. “Are you sure, Angie?” She nodded, smiling affectionately on one side. Then, before he could argue, she stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He returned the kiss briefly, but then pulled back and turned to look back inside. “I, um, I should probably get back now.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m guessing we won’t be going on that date tonight?” Angelica swallowed. Why did that have to get ruined? “No, probably not.” Then, to keep the conversation from ending that way, she added, “Next week?” Brian nodded and forced a smile. “Sure. Next week sounds good.” He began to back away, back into the car wash. His face bore an expression that Angelica couldn’t place, but somehow it was filling her stomach with unease. Sure, she had discovered to her shock that she didn’t mind peeing herself in front of Brian, but there was no guarantee that he felt the same way. An emotion she couldn’t name was bearing down on her, and the next thing she knew, she blurted out, “I love you.” Brian didn’t answer. He didn’t respond. In quite possibly the worst reaction he could have given, he merely stayed silent for a second or two before giving an almost imperceptible nod and a simple “I’ll see you later.” Then he turned away and strode back into the car wash, which now, in the clear afternoon daylight, looked dark and unfriendly. Angelica’s stomach was tight as she pulled out her phone to call Lily and explain what happened. She was careful to omit the part about Brian being there, and about how he had seemed to grow cold toward her when saying goodbye. She was mainly afraid that if she tried to talk about it, she would start crying. She just couldn’t face that right now. For her part, Lily promised to be there as soon as she could, which meant close to half an hour of waiting. Not wanting to see back inside the car wash, Angelica found a relatively secluded spot on the curb by the other side of the parking lot. Her butt now recovered enough for her to sit, there she sat, folding her arms over her lap to diminish the conspicuousness of her accident, and waited for Lily, all while trying to swallow the lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away. ~Aftermath~ The drive back home had a stiff and uncomfortable atmosphere to it. Lily had arrived in a new change of clothes and with the passenger seat covered with a trash bag and had seemed genial enough, but despite Angelica’s best attempts to act like nothing was wrong, their conversation never attained the degree of lively banter that it normally would. She also noticed that Lily kept giving her glances throughout the ride. Most likely she suspected that something was not quite right, but Angelica was desperately hoping that she would merely assume it was the embarrassment following an accident. Since it was Angelica’s car, normally they would stop at Lily’s house first, and then Angelica would return to her own home. Today, though, she just wanted to get home and be by herself, in private, as soon as possible. She did her best to offer Lily the car for tonight in as nonchalant a way as possible, ostensibly so that they wouldn’t have to cover the driver’s seat as well, but based on the look Lily gave her in return, she knew that her feigned composure was being seen through. Still, Lily didn’t argue, and shortly thereafter dropped Angelica off. Once at her own house, Angelica slipped inside undetected, then stole away to her room to strip down and change. The heaviness in her gut hadn’t abated, but she was coasting on pure momentum now. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, in the shower, that she was finally still enough for the dam to break. Her bottled-up angst broke free in a sob, which quickly devolved into painful, retching bawling of fearful anxiety. She curled up on the floor of the shower, not caring about the water splashing all over the side of her face, as she convulsed with dejected blubbering. She had been so happy. Everything with Brian had been like a dream come true. All her past instances that would have prevented her from being with him had disappeared in the wind, and they had actually become boyfriend and girlfriend—and best of all, he was the one who had initiated it. She had thought she had given him every reason to be scared off, but he hadn’t been. But then, today, it had all fallen apart. After only two months of dating. Two months—was that even enough time to develop a mature relationship? For all she knew, the Angelica that Brian had fallen in love with was not who she was. She had never told him about her accidents, and he had probably assumed that the one he had witnessed was an isolated incident, like it would be for any normal person. Her worst fears were coming true. He really hadn’t known what he was getting into, dating her, and now he wanted out. She wearily lifted herself up on one arm. Was that really true, though? He’d been compassionate enough after she’d wet herself, showing genuine concern—was his aloofness at the end simply him processing what had happened? She had no way of knowing what he was thinking…or what he was feeling. Then the words rang in her ears again: “I love you.” And he hadn’t said anything back. The tears had stopped flowing, but only because she had run out. In her gut, she didn’t actually feel any better. She finished her shower, washing her face, and drank some water. Then she grabbed a packet of Pop-Tarts from the kitchen, retreated upstairs, changed into her pajamas, and locked the door. The next morning, Angelica awoke feeling like garbage. She had slept very poorly, her sleep haunted by unsettling dreams, and the Pop-Tarts she had eaten without brushing her teeth had left a horrendous taste in her mouth. She checked her phone. It was later than she would normally get up, providing her not much more than enough time to get dressed and ready for Lily to pick her up. She quickly threw on a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt, hoping Lily had remembered to leave earlier than normal. She also saw, to her dismay, that there hadn’t been any texts from Brian. Granted, she hadn’t texted him either, but that didn’t make her feel less dejected. As it turned out, Lily hadn’t quite gotten started early enough, and both girls ended up arriving close to thirty minutes late for work. Lily in particular seemed highly reticent to go back and face Mr. Armstrong, and Angelica had to try to encourage her, saying that everything would be okay. Actively trying to help her friend also lifted her own spirits, if only a little. Mainly, though, it gave her the courage she needed to face the day. Once at work, Mr. Armstrong never mentioned the events of the previous day, other than when he called Angelica into his office to have her sign a form having to do with legal liabilities regarding her getting beaten by the roller brush. She was only half-listening, but signed without complaint or question. When she had gotten dressed that morning, she had examined her rear end to see that the welts were far less noticeable today and would most likely heal within a day or two. Other than that one encounter, Mr. Armstrong never once referenced the incidents that had taken place, though he did seem somewhat more awkward in his demeanor and was careful to ask how the girls were doing rather frequently. Lily, however, tried to make herself scarce whenever he came out. Evidently she didn’t want to have to face him just yet. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that a text came in from Brian, reading simply “I’m sorry I didn’t call you last night. Can we talk tonight?” Reading it sent butterflies all through Angelica, and she went through four or five iterations of a response before settling on “Of course! I get off at five.” She was afraid to say anything more, afraid to get her hopes up. There was still the very real possibility that he would be wanting to talk only to give some form or another of “it’s not you; it’s me.” Though it may very well be “actually it is you. What kind of person pees themselves that much?” All Brian sent back was “Thanks. I’ll call you once you’re off.” The maddening ambiguity of his messages made it impossible to think of anything besides what their conversation might or might not be about, and the rest of the afternoon was passed in gnawing suspense as she tried to think of every possible thing he might say and how to handle it. It was like bracing yourself for the results of a medical test—until you knew what it would be like, you had no real idea of how to be ready for it. The agonizing apprehension occupied her mind through all the rest of the day, making her unnaturally laconic towards Lily. When Lily asked what was wrong, Angelica felt she couldn’t tell her—not yet, not until she and Brian had their talk and something definite came out. Until then, trying to share with someone else, even her best friend, would only worsen the sick feeling in her gut. It was this state of not knowing, of uncertainty, that was the worst of all. So all she ended up saying was that she couldn’t talk about it right now because she was waiting for more information, but hopefully could tomorrow. It was an uncharacteristically aloof answer, but Lily didn’t push the issue. On the drive back home after dropping off Lily, Angelica found her heart was beating harder with anticipation, and all her nerves were on edge. If only she knew whether the outcome of the call would be good or bad—this was worse than any “we need to talk” she had ever had from a parent or a teacher before. Her throat was tightening again, and she had to keep swallowing. She yawned nervously, trying to calm her nerves. In addition to the other physiological effects, to her chagrin, her need to pee was also noticeably increasing. The drive only provided her with more time alone with her tumultuous thoughts and steadily filling bladder. Her plan had been to text Brian that she was available to talk as soon as she got home, but as the minutes passed, she knew that she would definitely have to go use the bathroom first. By now, she was bouncing in her seat, unable to quell the urge to go. At long last, she pulled into the driveway of her home, unbuckling her seatbelt before she had even turned off the car. Her bladder was tensing up, intermittently contracting, and she was getting more and more desperate. Car in park, ignition off. She vigorously rubbed her thighs before opening the door. Just then, though, her phone began buzzing with a phone call. Pulling it out of her pocket, she saw that it was Brian. Without any warning, her muscles seized up, and she had to hurriedly cross one leg over the other and bend over to keep from leaking. This was it. Her breaths were trembling with anxiety as she pushed the button to answer the call. “Hi, Brian.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the quaver out of her voice. “Hi, Angie.” Brian’s voice was soft, but that was no consolation in and of itself. “Listen, I’m really sorry about taking this long to talk. I…I really should have called last night.” “Oh, no, that’s okay,” Angelica lied. Her voice by now was higher pitched than normal, and she had to do a walk in place and cross her legs to stay in control. “Okay.” Silence. Angelica had to bite her lip, both to keep from letting her nervousness froth over into logorrhea or her urine spill out into her pants. Then Brian sighed and continued. “I guess I was just sorting through what happened yesterday. And…I guess I mainly wanted to ask, are you okay?” Angelica bent into a crouch, trying to keep from leaking. “Uh, yeah,” she replied. At the moment, she was far from okay, but she knew what he meant. He didn’t realize just how strangely okay she really was with what had happened. All her angst had been due to wondering if ­he was okay with it. “Are you sure? Because it really could’ve happened to anyone. I mean, I’m sure it was pretty terrifying for you.” So, he thought she had peed herself from fear? Huh. Well, she certainly wasn’t about to correct him. That would be, if possible, even more embarrassing. Then realizing she hadn’t given any kind of answer, she stammered out, “I, uh, I mean, I mean yeah.” She used her free hand to give her crotch a squeeze. Brian sighed again. Was he trying to work up the courage to ask her why she wet herself so much? Or worse—break up? Angelica stood back up, but with her hand still in between her thighs. If this went on much longer, she would end up wetting her pants again. Eventually, he spoke up, his voice lower. “When—when you said you loved me yesterday…did you mean it?” Angelica was silent. Was this some sort of test? Some way of seeing if she really cared about him if she thought he was about to dump her? It wasn’t fair to ask a question like that, especially when she was about to totally soak herself. She stayed quiet, wishing it didn’t have to be this way, wishing that she could make Brian love her back just by the sheer force of desire. But she couldn’t. Nor could she act as though she didn’t really love him in a contemptible attempt at self-preservation. How did the quote go? “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”? Finally, after a long pause during which she had to fight hard to keep her urine in check, she answered—a simple, barely audible “yes.” Brian gave another sigh, this one sounding relieved. “It was after I realized that I couldn’t drive you home—I, I realized…that I was trying to fix it. And, like, I know, that’s what they say guys always try to do in relationships, but it’s not that—it’s more than that. And I just felt so bad.” Angelica didn’t understand what he was trying to say, in part because of his half-formed statements, and in part because she was having trouble focusing on anything other than her tingling bladder. Her sphincter kept starting to loosen on its own accord, and she had to actively maintain a tight clench. She pushed her hair behind one ear and attempted to concentrate. “I’m sorry, Brian, I, I don’t understand…” Brian kept talking, his pace quickening. “I realized that that time at the farm—I made you have an accident. It was my fault. I got us both lost so you couldn’t get to a bathroom. And then yesterday—yesterday it was the same thing. I was the one who powered everything up before making sure it was safe. And, and, Angie—Angie, I am so sorry. So, so sorry. It was my fault.” Slowly, gloriously, it began settling in Angelica’s consciousness and heart the realization that all her fears had been misplaced. If she was understanding him right, Brian had been afraid that she would want to break up with him. The relief was so palpable that she actually laughed, despite her best efforts not to. All the misery of the previous night was lifting. The scent of hope was filling the garden of her soul once more. Unfortunately, with that relief came relief of another kind. As it dawned on her that she had nothing to be afraid of, she momentarily let go of the iron grip she had on her bladder, and a one-second burst of urine sprayed out into her panties. She immediately grabbed her crotch again, staunching the flow, and started speed walking toward the house. She needed to find a way to wrap up this conversation, and fast. On the other end of the line, she heard a tentative “Angie?” Angelica remembered that she hadn’t replied yet. Moving as quickly as she could with her hand in her groin, and trying to keep from both losing any more pee and from sounding like she was about to, she answered, “Oh, oh, Brian, no, no, it’s okay. It’s totally okay. I’m fine, and you don’t need to apologize. Or if you do, I forgive you. Really.” She was in the house by now and mounting the stairs. Brian laughed also, the joyous sound of fears evaporating. “Oh, that is so good to hear. Oh, thank you, Angie. Thank you so much. I was afraid you would never forgive me. I couldn’t even sleep last night.” Angelica giggled while scissoring her legs open and closed. “You couldn’t sleep? I was up most of the night. I was afraid I had scared you off and that you were gonna break up with me.” She was standing in front of the bathroom, needing only to finish this conversation so she could pee. Being so close to a toilet was only magnifying her need, though, and she had to double over again, hand in crotch. Now it was Brian’s turn to laugh. “You—you thought I was going to break up with you? Oh, Angie, no! No, no, never. No, Angie, I love you.” Those words—those magical, fantastical, miraculous words. She thought she may just melt. Or if not melt, then maybe drip. At the sound of her greatest hope filling her ears, her bladder again contracted, and another one-second jet of pee leaked out into her underwear, warming the area all around her private parts. Here Brian was apologizing for making her wet herself, not knowing that he was doing it again! “Oh, Brian.” Angelica’s voice, though still high-pitched and tremulous, was gooier than before. “Oh, Brian, I love you too.” Another leak forced its way out, and she could feel the fabric under her hand growing warm and damp. She lifted up one leg, then the other. “And don’t blame yourself for the times I wet my pants. Really. Trust me, they haven’t all been because of you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. What she should have said was “they haven’t been all because of you,” meaning he hadn’t been the sole cause. What she had actually said instead let the cat out of the bag—and, as if on cue, something else was let out of somewhere else. The wetness began to extend out over her right thigh. She hoped that Brian wouldn’t notice the slip in her syntax. Sadly, he was hanging on too closely to her every word for it to pass him by. “All? What do you mean, all? Were…there…other times?” Angelica could feel her face turning red as her sphincter started releasing a trickle of hot urine out of her burning bladder. “Um, well, I mean, yeah,” was all she could manage in reply. She was still holding herself as tightly as she could, but her pee was beginning to slowly descend down her leg. She could feel it lazily flowing down her skin, followed shortly thereafter by the darkening of the denim. “Yeah, I’ve wet my pants different times. A lot of different times, honestly.” Talking about peeing herself was only making her current situation worse, and the trickle grew in strength, the wet spot now also spreading out under her hand onto her left thigh. Brian was taken aback. “Wait, for real? You have?” Angelica blushed harder. She couldn’t hold the truth or her urine in any longer. “Yeah. I’m—I’m actually—” She let out a grunt. “I’m actually wetting myself right now.” The trickle turned into a full-fledged stream as she lost all power to hold back. Within seconds, both thighs were wet all over the front and the back, her pee separating into different channels on her right leg and creating an irregular patchwork stain. Her urine also poured directly through the saturated fabric of her panties and jeans, through the gaps in her fingers, and splattered straight down onto the carpet…not very far from where she had peed her pajamas on Halloween several years before, now that she thought about it. When he spoke, Brian’s voice was incredulous. “What? Seriously? You’re joking, right?” Angelica gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “No, I’m not joking. I had to pee but then you called as soon as I got home.” Her accident, caused more by heightened emotions than by excessive volume of urine, was coming to an end. Brian’s tone was sympathetic. “Angie, you…you could’ve…you could’ve just told me…” Angelica cut him off. “It’s okay, Brian. Really. As long as it stays just between you and me, I don’t mind. I really don’t.” The last drops were dripping from the inside of her right thigh. “Why do you think I even told you about having other accidents? It was bound to come out eventually.” She laughed to herself at the darkly humorous double meaning. When Brian tried to interject again, Angelica adopted a gentler, more matriarchal tone. “Listen. Don’t worry about it. I won’t. I love you and can’t wait for our date next week, and that’s all that matters.” Brian coughed lightly, as if to fill the gap where he couldn’t find words. Then he let out a breath and said, “Well, uh, I mean, okay. Just between us. Of course. I love you too, Angie. See you next week.” Angelica smiled on one side and blew the sound of a kiss into the phone. “Bye.” “Bye.” Now that the call was over, Angelica blew her bangs out of her eyes with a long, relieved exhalation. Everything was all right between her and Brian—and he told her he loved her. She would sleep like a baby tonight. Of course, before anything else, she had to clean herself up. Thankfully, the relatively small quantity of urine she had peed meant there wasn’t much of a puddle to speak of. Good. She knew from experience that cleaning up carpet was a nightmare. As she retreated to her room to find some clean clothes, she mused over the new development of Brian knowing about her accidents and what the ramifications would mean. She supposed the topic would doubtless come up next week when they went out for ice cream. And when payday came, Angelica and Lily found that they had both been paid overtime pay for a full shift on that day.
  31. 2 points

    Biku's art

  32. 2 points

    My first time

    Okay, so I had been a fan of Omo for the longest time, but had never done it myself for a while. Until.... I was at the mall by myself,and I'm normally never there, so nobody knew me. I was so fascinated with everything, that I felt the feeling of ,"oh crap, gotta pee" but the bathrooms were on the other side! So, I kept trying to move and got so desperate... Then I felt it. Sweet relief! I looked down and luckily I was wearing jean shorts over my leggings, and because I thought this might happen, four pairs of underwear. So I decided I would go, right then and there. The mall was kinda cold, and it kinda kept me warm, so I just...let it all out. I looked down and was kinda amazed only a little leaked through. Since then whenever I know I,m gonna be alone, I kinda like the way it feels. I can't be alone, can I? Well, that's my story of my first time.
  33. 2 points

    Biku Commission thread

  34. 2 points
    And some more, with no background detailing...
  35. 2 points
    Here are some samples.. Line art sample! And colouring sample...
  36. 2 points

    Panicking Pam

    Panicking Pam Pam opened her fridge and knew right away that the boys had had breakfast already. She picked up the almost empty milk, thankful there was enough for a mug of tea at least. Sitting at the breakfast bar she could see Frank in the makeshift study (previously the laundry room before Covid 19), and in the distance she could see Martin on the laptop lounging in the front room. She could only assume Max was on his xbox in his bedroom as per usual. She had a quick skim through Facebook on her phone and then checked the news while she finished her tea then put on her anorak to take Patch for his walk. Pam was so thankful to live near a park where Parch could wander at his own pace, sniffing and meandering freely as she walked the standard two mile walk he was so accustomed to. He was getting on in years now and this twice a day walk was more than sufficient but now more than ever Pam was glad she didn’t need to go far. Times were very different to normal and while she used to love seeing familiar people on her twice daily walk now she was glad the park was empty as everyone was living in fear of a deadly virus. Back home Pam ran the kitchen tap until it ran cold then filled a glass with water and gulped it down. It was surprisingly warm for early April and the anorak had made her sweat. A brief check of the freezer and cupboards before opening the kitchen drawer and grabbing some bags, she popped her head into where Frank was to let him know she was off to brave the supermarket for their once a week shop. Frank kissed her on the cheek and she shouted up to Max and waved to Martin, showing him the bags as he had earphones in, before she headed out the door. Pam didn’t drive, neither did her partner and neither of her boys were quite old enough for lessons, though both were desperate to learn when they could. Being reliant on buses during a pandemic wasn’t ideal but Pam knew they were still running even if the timetable was reduced. The streets were quiet and otherwise busy roads saw very little traffic and Pam let her mind wander as she waited the 25 minutes for the bus. No-one had joined her at the bus stop and she was just one of three passengers now on the bus. Sitting on the warm bus taking the familiar twenty minute ride to the supermarket Pam felt a twinge between her legs, thought she simply ignored it as she gathered her bags and purse ready to disembark from the bus. Pam hadn’t anticipated the scene that awaited her as she walked up the ramp into the supermarket car park. She hadn’t seen this many cars in the car park since the week before Christmas! She headed down the short path towards the main doors her eyes blinking in the sun as it suddenly sank in that the people she could see where actually queuing just to get in! The closer she got the longer the queue seemed as she followed the line of socially distanced strangers silently waiting to enter the store as the line stretched along the side of the store, down the side of the car park, turned round on its self and snaked back again! There must easily be over 100 people in front of her she realised. Noting they all had trolleys already she looked around for the nearest trolley bay and headed to get one. By the time she had a trolley and headed to the queue it had stretched even longer! She joined the end and waited patiently. Ten minutes later she had barely moved as a store colleague headed along the line offering free bottles of water and an open tub of chocolates for those waiting. Pam was warm so readily took the water and decided a chocolate might help keep her energy up too. By the time she finally reached the edge of the store building she’d drank three quarters of her bottle and felt more frequent familiar urges the same as she had on the bus earlier. Pam checked her watch and realised she had been out the house almost an hour an a half already and still she wasn’t even inside the supermarket yet! Feeling another twinge she moved from one foot to the other as the queue edged slightly forward. Now able to see inside the store through the long glass windows Pam could see people in masks and gloves working at the checkouts and she hoped it wouldn’t be much longer before they were serving her. She wouldn’t usually ever use the bathrooms in the supermarket, preferring to wait until she was back home, but given the long wait to get in and a potential long wait for a bus back home, combined with the fact she already needed to go, she reasoned she would visit the ladies quickly before doing her shopping. That thought didn’t help her need to go and she found herself more and more distracted by her bladder as the queue seemed to slow down the closer she got to the entrance. There was now no doubt in her mind that she would definitely find the toilets as soon as she was in as her private areas tingled between her legs and she tapped her foot on the ground anxiously. In front of her a couple stood chatting to each other so much they hadn’t noticed the line move forward. Pam, normally shy and reserved but now very much in need of a toilet, found herself getting annoyed and when they still hadn’t moved 30 seconds later she couldn’t help but say something. ‘Excuse me. Could you move up please!’ It came across more bossy than she meant it but Pam was flustered and stressed, hot and in need of release. The couple looked back briefly before tutting and moving forward. Pam could count how many were in front of her now but standing right in line of the sun was making her hot and bothered. Despite already really needing to use the ladies she finished the bottle of water she had been given and placed it in the bin as she moved forward a little more. Just five people in front of her now, thank goodness. Another one in. Then another. Pam was getting anxious. She didn’t want to make it obvious to anyone that she was bursting but standing still wasn’t easy at all. She tapped her foot, curled her toes in her trainers and bit her lip. She couldn’t even remember when she joined the queue because all she could think about now was getting to the loo as soon as she could. Just three in front now. Finally. As another few left the store the young man in front of the couple was nodded to go in but then Pam watched in horror as a member of staff came closer to the couple and whilst still remaining socially distanced to them the staff member was clearly telling them something they weren’t happy with. Pam silenced her thoughts to overhear. ‘Sorry. It’s one person one trolley. There’s signs all along where you were waiting. I can’t let you both in together I’m afraid.’ ‘But we live together for goodness sake! We are married! We always shop together and we have waited almost an hour to get in! Surely you can make an exception? That’s a ridiculous rule! You just let a woman in a minute ago with a baby! You didn’t say the baby needed it’s own trolley did you! You can’t make one of us go to the back of the queue? The frozen food would be defrosted before they even go in the store! Come on!’ Pam moaned under her breath. She didn’t need this and she was sure the store assistant didn’t need it either! Whilst another two customers left out the other door Pam crossed her legs impatiently. Why did she need to be behind an argumentative couple now of all times when she just wanted into the store toilet before shopping! Pam could feel her heart beating faster now as she hated confrontation but mostly because her need to pee was getting stronger by the second. She pulled one leg behind her and bent a little forwards leaning into the trolley. A married woman in her forties should not be pee dancing outside a supermarket and Pam did all she could to disguise her need. Finally Pam watched as the gentleman in front reluctantly walked away and Pam tried not to look too flustered and panicky as she waited to be told she could enter the store finally. She watched anxiously as another customer left, begging inwardly for the staff member to let her in so she could walk quickly to the ladies. But she didn’t. Pam looked at her annoyed and when yet another customer left she found herself getting more and more stressed. Her body was screaming for release and yet here she was at the mercy of a store colleague releasing her to be allowed in. Despite all her efforts to hide her need when another urge came strongly Pam couldn’t stop herself bouncing on her heels and crossing her legs. She had to say something. She had been waiting long enough now. ‘Excuse me. Am I allowed in yet! Sorry to ask it’s just...it’s just I have been waiting a long time and I emm...I have a bus to catch home. Thanks’ ‘I’m really sorry. I am just waiting on the gentleman in front of you returning. Apparently he hadn’t realised the rules of one person one trolley so he’s just away to get a trolley then I will let him in and then you. Sorry for your wait madam.’ Pam desperately wanted to argue but the poor store colleague looked tired and stressed. So she tried to hold on just a little bit longer. However, when yet another customer wheeled their full trolley out and she could barely stand still for her need to pee she mustered up the courage to ask again. ‘Sorry to ask again, it’s just that I can’t see him coming back and...actually I really need to use the ladies. Would it be ok if I just headed in and he can come in after me?’ The colleague looked sympathetically at Pam, noticing the strain on her face and how her legs continually tapped. She nodded for her to head in and Pam pushed the trolley fast inside the double doors frantically looking for the toilets. She’d never used them so wasn’t familiar with where they were. It took a few fast paced minutes with her head racing and panic setting in more and more before she finally found them. Pushing the trolley through the first door Pam began dancing more as the thought of imminent release intensified her need to pee. She saw a sign on the gents and baby change but didn’t stop to read them but as she went to push open the ladies door and found it locked she quickly read the sign posted to that door too. ‘Due to the outbreak of Covid 19 and to protect our customers unfortunately these toilets are currently unavailable. We apologise for any inconvenience caused.’ Pam grabbed herself between the legs and moaned. She was absolutely bursting for the loo but with no other shops nearby open and no other toilets therefore available she stood there dancing on the spot with her hand between her legs in an absolute panic of what to do. Getting the bus home wasn’t an option as she needed food for her family and there was no way she would be able to wait for a bus anyway without peeing herself. She had no other option but to try and shop with an over full and desperate bladder. Pam wanted to cry. She pushed the trolley back out and into the fruit section quickly putting in bananas, apples, grapes, oranges and pears all whilst trying to stay decent. She walked to the vegetables and put in potatoes, carrots, onions, cauliflower, broccoli and leeks, all the while tapping her foot and biting her lip. She moved to the salad and bent over to put in a bag of mixed leaves, a cucumber, some tomatoes and celery when she felt warm dribbles leak into her knickers. Standing upright Pam panicked. She urgently HAD to get to a toilet. NOW. She looked around for a staff member seeing a pizza counter and raced over. Struggling to breathe she jiggled on the spot frantically as she tried to explain quietly that she urgently needed to find a bathroom. The staff member shrugged and apologised saying unfortunately the bathrooms were locked ‘due to Covid’. Pam panicked as another dribble oozed out of her despite clamping her muscles shut as tightly as she could. Looking around for the quietest aisle she could she raced towards the make up, assuming it was quiet as no-one had anywhere to go currently. Checking no-one else was around she picked up a lipstick and pretended to look at it whilst bending forwards and grabbing herself. Silently, embarrassingly, Pam stood there helpless with the lipstick tightly in her hand still as another long spurt shot out, running down the inside of her leg and pulling into her sock. This time another spurt followed and Pam couldn’t stop as pee continued to flow freely down her leg squelching in her socks and trainers as her bladder relaxed and pushed the content squashed inside it out finally. Unable to do much else Pam casually placed the lipstick back on the shelf, pulled her trainer off and poured out the liquid amassed in it under the counter before putting it back on and pushing the trolley to the next aisle where she placed in some sanitary towels, shampoo and shower gel before continuing on with her full weeks grocery shop hoping that with everything else going on in the world right now that no-one would see that she had wet herself in desperation due to the restrictions of a worldwide epidemic. Everyone would remember the pandemic, thought Pam, but for her it would forever remind her of the panic on finding the ladies locked and what happened as a result.
  37. 2 points

    Omo sexuality

    "Everyone I seem to talk to that has the same interests within omorashi I do (public desperation, accidents, humiliation, etc.) says it's a more powerful turn on than sex itself. We also seem to have similar interests when it comes to dating: no interest in hookups, and craving emotional connection. There's even tons of similarities in personality between us (introverted, feel they outgrow their friends quickly, etc.). There were more similarities than those, but they're the ones I found most interesting. I'm curious if anyone else feels a similar way when it comes to this fetish and dating." I have to admit that that's me all around. I used to think that I was totally asexual because I never had really much interest in penetrative sex or anything like that, although that's probably just because I'm a lesbian. I never really had any interest in actual genital contact but have always been primarily interested in things such as pee desperation, tickle torture and nudity humiliation. Actual sex itself has never really been a major thing to me and I have always been an extreme introvert with no social skills and relatively few friends that I see very infrequently. I have noticed that a large number of people into this fetish also seem to have an interest in the paranormal, which is definitely true of me, as I'm completely obsessed. And I have noticed with people with particular fetish is that the fetish tends to be more interesting to them than actual sex. Personally I have never been in a relationship and I am 36 years old and a virgin, and I think it has to do with the fact that I have very unusual sexual interests and it's very hard to find a partner who shares them, especially when you have no social skills to begin with and a very small network to socialize with. I have never met anyone off-line who shares my interest.
  38. 1 point
    FROSTY AND HER SISTERS: THE PACT The moon was almost full. It hung brilliant and low in the night sky, framed by heavy black velvet window curtains as I listened intently for the familiar sound of Norah's car pulling into the gravel driveway, the sound that would signal my imminent release. My bladder was swollen and bulging now, filled to the bursting point from 40 fluid oz. of iced green tea I had rapidly consumed in a frantic attempt to refill before my beloved returned. It would not do for her to find me empty... I might be able to avoid a punishment spanking, but the sight of Norah's disappointed face would sting worse than any hand, strap, or even the hated and feared cane on my upturned bottom. How had I gotten myself into this predicament? You might well wonder, what with me being the good, obedient little girl that I have been trained to be. I suppose I should start at the beginning. But which beginning should I choose? The one where I was born into modest circumstances and grew up a shy, unassuming, and rather plain girl? That's not the most interesting of stories, really. The one where I discovered my secret passion for holding and for wetting myself? You might have already heard that story; if not, see Frosty Wets Her Schoolgirl Uniform. The one where I was found and turned by the love of my eternal undead existence? You'd better read Sisterhood of Blood... No, this story actually has its own beginning. And so shall it be told. As a vampire, I have a fair amount of time on my hands, and am alone quite a lot since my maker and mistress Norah is out in the world doing what she does. She prefers for me to stay home, to be safe and out of danger, but since I'm an insomniac and depressive to boot, I need something to fill the empty hours that stretch out endlessly before me until my beloved returns home. I've found a few things: music, both playing and listening; writing about N.'s adventures after she tells me the tale; holding my pee.... I am a submissive omo vampire, and yes, I love desperation, holding, and eventually wetting myself. And that is what brought me to where I am now. Although I am somewhat of a Luddite by both nature and inclination, eventually out of boredom I found the internet and by chance stumbled on a site that was dedicated to omorashi. There I found a place for my stories as well as like-minded souls, and a sort of home. Certain people I had a special kinship with, and a few of these have become my adopted sisters. Some have come and gone, but there are always at least two. At the time the events in this story took place, I had three good little sisters who I was taking care of, almost the same way in which Norah takes care of me. Norah is our mother, as well as a sister, a lover and our guide in the ways of omo vampirism. She has been around so much longer than any of the rest of us. And just as Norah made me, I made my little sisters... I drank them dry, drained them of life and then fed them my own blood and pee, granting them eternal existence and filling them with a yearning for blood, and for our urine, which we omo vamps refer to affectionately as 'the blue'. It is blue, you see; transparent blue, just as our tears are. Our blood is opaque blue, but we usually only drink that from one another during a turning ceremony. Since I made them, my little sisters belong to me, and since I belong to Norah, they are hers as well. My sisters have spread out to the four corners of the earth, and although we do share an empathetic bond, we communicate mainly by means of the internet and instant messaging nowadays. And so, that brings us to this particular night, when all four of us were online, and we decided to roll the dice. We often play little games when we are together. The Guessing Game is one where we have to divine what colour (and sometimes style) panties the others are wearing. I am usually the easiest to guess; since I only ever wear black, white or grey, at least one of my sisters will always be correct, and get her reward. My other sisters are much less predictable, and guessing wrong can have consequences. Thus, the roll of the dice... But before we get too deep into the story, allow me to introduce ourselves. I'm Erica, and apart from Mommy Norah., I am the oldest one by quite a bit. When Mommy N. isn't around, I'm in charge of things. Although I am a loving older sister, I do take my responsibility to keep the younger girls in line seriously, maintaining order and discipline at all times. Little Nayla is my youngest sister in both physical years and in the amount of time she has been with the clan, although Giulia has not been a member of the Sisterhood for too much longer. Nayla is bright and sweet, although a bit of a handful. Our little middle schooler is a bit naughty and constantly finds ways to get in trouble. Giu is also very sweet, and rather shy when you first meet her; we're constantly working on bringing her out of her shell. Once you know her better though, she can be a bit hot headed and loses patience easily. Alice is the smart one, although she would never admit to being anything special. It was she who designed the bot that rolls the dice for us, and frankly, I believe she is its mistress. In any case, all we need do is type in the correct sequence of numbers and letters, and the bot then responds with an answering number. Sometimes we wager high/low rolls against the bot, but the best rewards (and harshest consequences for failure) go to a roll for a specific number. One of the things you need to know is that Alice is constantly working on her little bot to make it better, and then we get to test each new version or feature. That night we weren't testing, though. We were just playing around. rolling for fun without any wagers. I picked the number 7, and was rolling for that. Nayla chose 11, and Giulia selected the number 20. Alice wasn't rolling; she just sat quietly and watched the bot work. As each of us took a turn and entered the sequence, the little bot would roll the virtual dice and return an answering number. The bot kept coming back with other numbers besides 20, though. We continued rolling, and once in a while Nayla's number or mine would come up, but never Giu's. Over and over we'd roll, in between our normal girlish chit chat... every so often, an 11 or a 7 would come back from the little bot. Not Giulia's 20, though... Even at a great distance, our empathetic bond was telling me that my sister was getting a bit frustrated by her inability to get the number she wanted, and finally Giu said that if the bot rolled a 20, she would wet herself then and there. I'm pretty sure she was convinced that there was no way in Hell that the bot was going to come back with her number. Still, now there was a wager and real stakes to the game! We decided that high/low rolls would be rewards and consequences for Giu, since she had so kindly (or foolishly) offered herself up as the prize. And so we took turns rolling once again. Nayla got a roll that allowed her to assign a consequence, but she passed that decision on to me. I had no trouble deciding what that consequence would be; I also told the others that I wouldn't announce it until the fateful roll. So now we all were trying for 20, LOL... we rolled and rolled, but the bot still wouldn't give us the number we so desperately wanted! Finally Alice took a turn, and entered 20 as her wager, and the bot instantly came back with that number. OMHG... Giu knew she was now obligated to pee her panties no matter what, but the other two girls looked at their screens expectantly to see what further consequence their stern older sister might impose. After a short pause to heighten the drama of the moment, I announced: "The consequence is... we all have to wet at the same time, and then stay in our peed-in knickers!" What with Giu being so shy, I really didn't want her to feel like she was being singled out for humiliation, even if it was she who had made the wager against herself. Besides that, I knew something else as well... whatever one of us feels, we all feel. Without any hesitation whatsoever, Nayla piped up, "I'm in!" After a few seconds, Alice chimed in: "Ummmm, me too," she said very quietly. Alice already had her top off, and now she took off her sweatpants, folded them up neatly and placed them on the chair under her to absorb whatever she released. She was now exposed in just her purple plain cotton panties and matching bra. Giu and Nayla were both already dressed for bedtime, it being rather late on their side of the world. Giu was wearing her pjs, and little Nayla was in her soft flannel nightie with her beautiful dark brown hair done up in a long braid. I was in my favourite black silk lace trimmed slip and matching panties, of course. The countdown began... each of us took turns counting down from ten to zero, the object being that we should all start wetting ourselves at the same time. As the moment approached, Giu took her laptop off of the desk and placed it on the floor in front of her so we could see her crouching down on all fours in her favourite position for wetting. Despite the fact that we were all going to wet at the same time, she had a somewhat embarrassed look on her face, like "I can't believe I got myself into this predicament..." Alice was perched on top of her folded sweatpants, ready for what would happen in the next few moments. She was smiling, which is something we rarely see her doing. Little Nayla was squirming desperately in her chair, looking very much as if she wasn't going to be able to hold on until we reached zero... she quite often has accidents even without any encouragement whatsoever, and the thought of all four of us peeing our panties at the same time was almost too much for her to handle, even if she was not fully aware of the sensations that our empathetic bond would engender yet. As for me, I was looking forward to our communal release, as well as the orgasmic feedback loop that would follow in its wake. And so now we each counted in turn, beginning with Nayla. "Ten..." Alice followed, "Nine..." "Eight..." I said. "Seven," from Giu "Six!" Nayla exclaimed. Five.... Alice Four.... me "T... three....," stammered Giu. "Two...," That was little Nayla, barely able to contain her excitement, or her pee. "One...," Alice whispered. "Go!"... me, forcefully. I stood up and spread my legs apart slightly. Then i gasped softly, feeling the irresistible pressure build inside of me. My panties puffed out just a bit as the flood began, filling them with my hot vampire girl pee before the stream jetted through them and down onto the floor, splashing between my feet. Meanwhile, Alice was squirming on her chair as she wet herself, her folded sweatpants absorbing most of the urine before the remaining bit started dripping down on the floor. Nayla was squealing with delight as she experienced the omo vampire feedback loop fully for the first time, feeling the flood, the rush of relief, the wonderful sensation of her vamp blue filling her aqua and white striped cotton schoolgirl knickers compounded now by everything the rest of us were feeling. Sitting on a hard wooden chair, there was little to absorb the copious amount of pee which was coming out of her now, flowing freely past the fingers of the hand she had clamped down on her crotch to intensify the feeling even more. As for Giu, she was still crouched down on all fours like a kitten, but she lifted her cute bottom up slightly and I could see an almost horizontal stream of urine jetting out from between her legs as her whole body shook. All of us were moaning, sighing, and gasping for air as we kept on wetting, the orgasmic sensation of quadrupled release almost too much to bear. Finally, the flow of urine slowed and stopped, but the arousal and orgasm continued. I glanced at the screen, and the three windows showed Alice slumped down and breathing heavily with her head on her desk, Giu gasping, collapsed in the large puddle of pee she'd just made on her bathroom floor, and finally... little Nayla, giggling and grinning somewhat evilly at her laptop camera as she furiously fingered herself through her soaked panties. OMG... I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. V-----V
  39. 1 point

    Schoolgirl's Omorashi Eng MT

    Fixed, thanks for feedback.
  40. 1 point
    Dude, they're fine. They aren't interacting with anyone. They are just driving around and she's peeing her pants. Nobody is in any danger.
  41. 1 point

    ShikkinCAMPUS

    Hello here is a savedata I came across. It has all scenes unlocked. You can rewind in the game now. Just press tab + ノートを見る. To adjust the camera angles, you may use the number keys. 1-8 are of fixed position. You can change the perspective freely if you use 0 (controlled with arrow keys), and it will also trace the characters. savedata.7z
  42. 1 point
    I met a girl on Tinder literally 2 weeks ago today, within a week I’d told her about it, that same day she read one of my stories and it TURNED HER ON. One hour ago, she read a second story and enjoyed that too. In essence, don’t be afraid to bring it up and as for timing, just use your instinct and best judgement. Every guy/girl is different after all.
  43. 1 point
    It looks like you had a lot of fun.
  44. 1 point
    Hi guys, I've written another story about Helen, sort of following on from "Helen: The Lady on the Plane". If you've got any questions or suggestions for future stories involving Helen please leave them below, I'm always happy to hear your thoughts. Saying that, I've got a couple of ideas already and will write about Helen again in the not too distant future. Enjoy :) ***** "Another pint, Helen?" Came the call from the other side of the room. Helen's bladder twinged, demanding her attention, but she tried to ignore it. "Ooh yes please, thanks very much Dave" came Helen's response. Helen decided that this would be her last, as it would soon be time to head back to the office. She was on an extended 'working' lunch and while she wanted to relax and enjoy herself, she needed to maintain a modicum of professionalism. The purpose of the lunch was for Helen, as a bidding manager for DLB (a major infrastructure and construction consultancy), to get to know her prospective clients over at the Department for Transport a bit better. DLB had recently put in a strong bid to build part of a new bypass in Lincolnshire. Whilst not the biggest contract DLB had ever seen, it would represent Helen's first big win as they relatively newly appointed manager of the bidding team. Helen, as ever, was dressed to impress. She had a low cut blouse that stopped just short of showing off her ample, voluptuous breasts. Her suit jacket nipped in at her narrow waist while her skirt stopped a good 6 inches short of her knee. It was tight enough to show the outline of her broad hips and large, perky bum. The 5 inch black heels she had chosen only helped to further emphasise her hourglass figure. Helen knew only too well the power that a woman like her wielded over the middle aged male contracts managers she often dealt with. Dave, one of her assistant bidders, returned from the bar with Helen's fourth pint of the afternoon. Helen glanced at her watch. She had about twenty minutes until she needed to be on her way. She shuffled in her seat. "I think this'll be my last one Dave, I need to be on my way fairly shortly, much as I'd like to stay." "Ahh that's a shame, but that's no problem, I think I'll need to make a move too. I've got that Skype meeting with Sue and some folks from HR in a little while" he said, rolling his eyes. "Ooh that sounds like great fun, still, I think Erica and Laura have got the DfT guys just about occupied." She quipped. They both glanced over to the other side of the room where Helen's two bidding assistants were drinking merrily, laughing and talking freely with the DfT managers. Helen couldn't remember the DfT guys being all that funny, but it looked like Erica and Laura's shameless flirting may help DLB win the contract, so Helen didn't really mind. Another dull pulse from her bladder reminded Helen that she really should be on her way soon. The lunch had started just after 12, and it was now almost 15:00. Helen was about a third of the way through her fourth pint, and had not relieved herself since around 10:30.She'd come straight to the lunch from a meeting, and the old pub had very limited, rather unpleasant toilet facilities, so up until now she had decided to hold it. This fact, combined with the coffee she had had to get her through her 11:00am meeting, meant that all of a sudden getting to a bathroom was at the forefront of Helen's mind. She prided herself on having a good, strong bladder. She often lasted through tedious 3 hour board meetings where they were all plied with copious tea, coffee and water. Helen had always resisted nipping out to the loo so as to not look weak in the male dominated environment in which she worked, although the men were more than happy too.Truth be told, Helen quite enjoyed having a full bladder. She felt that it sharpened her mind, and stopped her losing focus during the endless conversations about cost margins, resourcing, and contract negotiations. She had had several close calls on a few occasions, but nothing that a surreptitious crossing of the legs and a quick dash to the toilet after the meeting couldn't solve. However holding almost four pints of beer and a coffee for almost five hours was a slightly different ball game. Helen and Dave carried on sipping their drinks and discussed how the lunch had gone. Dave, as a relatively experienced bidding assistant, had a couple of pointers for Helen, who was still fairly new to her role as manager. Helen, keen to be seen as an approachable manager who interacted freely with her colleagues, listened as intently as she could. But the fullness of her bladder made it very difficult to her concentrate, and just about all she could muster was a series of strained 'mhmm's' and 'ahh yes's'. Before too long they had both finished their drinks and gathered their things to leave. "Think I might just nip to the loo Helen, while we're here" said Dave. "Good idea, I should probably do that too" Helen replied, trying to disguise her obvious enthusiasm for the proposal. Helen followed Dave downstairs from the private function room on the top floor of the pub, walking gingerly past the bar and towards the toilets. The old pub just across from the DLB offices was very behind the times, with only one cubicle for men, and one for women. Dave pushed open the door and entered the men's. Helen pushed open the door to the ladies but once inside was confronted with an "ENGAGED" sign. Her bladder pulsed again. She tried to shove a hand into her crotch, but her tight business skirt rendered the move pointless. Luckily there was no leakage, yet. Helen waited for a minute or so, pacing gently on the spot, but then heard Dave coming out of the other toilet. She considered making a quick dash into the men's, but didn't want to show herself up in front of her colleague. Besides, the journey over the road and up to the 40th floor of the high-rise building DLB occupied would only take 5 minutes or so. Helen hadn't had such a full bladder since the plane ride back from holiday where she had so nearly disgraced herself, but she was pretty sure she could manage. She reluctantly exited the toilet and joined Dave. "All good to go?" Dave smiled. "Absolutely, all those beers can really get to you huh?" Helen replied through slightly gritted teeth. By now Helen's outfit was beginning to work against her. The high heels made every step a sharp jolt that made her wince terribly, as her bladder gave out signals that it wanted badly to void its contents. The tight business skirt she had chosen to show off her broad hips and bum not only stopped her from holding her crotch; it also cut into Helen's stomach unbearably as the bulge of her bladder slowly grew. They left the pub, went over the road, and entered the lobby of the DLB offices. Helen had to rush slightly to keep up with Dave, who took such long strides, and the jolting sensation on her bladder caused her to wince and again attempt hold herself. Helen fumbled for her lift pass as Dave called the lift down to the ground floor. After a short while the lift arrived and Helen and Dave entered. The entrance to the lift was narrow, and in her haste to get to the 40th floor, Helen bumped into Dave and her pass was knocked out of her hand and on to the floor of the lift. Dave stooped to retrieve the pass, but out of instinct and embarrassment Helen quickly bent to pick it up herself. This turned out to be a mistake. The waistband of Helen's skirt dug sharply into her bladder, compressing it when it could not be compressed, and a short, sharp jet of pee escaped her bladder, burst through her tiny cotton thong, and soaked into the seat of her tight business skirt. Helen gasped, squeezed her bladder shut with all her might, retrieved her pass and slowly stood up. She was careful to keep her front facing Dave, as she was sure she now had a large wet spot on the seat of her skirt. "Are you ok?" Dave said. "Fine" said Helen "I just bent down too quickly." She placed her lift pass on the scanner which instantly blinked green. Dave selected the 40th floor and the lift doors slid slowly closed. Helen's condition seemed to be worsening by the moment. The leak had moistened her underwear and broken the seal. This made her need to pee even more urgent. Her bladder throbbed incessantly, begging for relief. Had Helen been in the lift alone, she would have had no shame about hitching up her skirt and plunging a hand between her legs to make sure she reached the 40th floor without further incident. As she was with Dave, this was obviously out of the question. Helen instead had to settle for using her bladder muscles alone. If she lost another spurt then she knew it would begin to run down her legs, and the game would almost certainly be over. The lift ascended smoothly up through the building, and Helen, while totally on edge, unable to converse with Dave, clenched her muscles and thought - prayed - that she was in with a chance of getting the relief she so desperately craved. However, as they passed the 36th floor, the lift began to slow, and stopped short on the 38th floor. The doors opened and they were greeted with the face of a young, cheery looking man in blue overalls. "I'm really sorry guys, but we're having a bit of trouble with the system on the 39th floor. If you want you can wait and we should have it sorted in about ten minutes, otherwise if you want to go any further up you can use the back staircase just around the corner there." This news could not have been worse for Helen. She doubted whether she was going to last another five minutes, let alone another ten. Taking the stairs was going to be similarly problematic. Walking upstairs was difficult enough in the tight skirt Helen had chosen, and the high heels only worsened the situation. Coupled with her full, already leaking bladder, she doubted her ability to make it. But the only other option was to wet herself in front of Dave, and after that he would never respect her. "No" Helen thought. "I made it against all the odds at the airport, and I can make it now." "I don't suppose there's a loo on this floor is there?" Helen asked the man in the overalls. "I'm afraid not miss" the man replied. "There's a men's on the 38th here and then the next women's is on the 39th, but you'll need a pass to get onto the 39th floor from the back staircase." "Ahh, never mind then" Helen breathed through gritted teeth, knowing that her and Dave's passes would not grant them access to the 39th floor. "What do you wanna do Helen, fancy the stairs?" Dave inquired innocently. "Yes, O...ok then" Helen stammered. Dave let Helen go first up the stairs, much to her dismay, as her leak from earlier would now be clearly visible to him. There were four staircases between the two floors, each of about 15 stairs, and Helen knew it would be a struggle. She tried to walk normally up the first few stairs, but quickly realised it was futile. The pressure her skirt exerted on her overly full bladder as it was stretched tight across her stomach was unbearable. She instead had to take each stair very slowly, and step both feet up onto a stair before advancing to the next one. Dave, having now seen the wet spot on Helen's skirt, and overheard the conversation with the lift engineer, started to put two and two together. "Are you ok Helen?" He inquired innocently. "Yes Dave, I'm alri..." Helen started, before gasping and desperately pawing at her skirt and crossing her legs where she stood, as her bladder pulsed urgently once more. "...I, actually Dave, I never got to go at the pub. I'm absolutely bursting for the loo, as you can probably tell." "Oh" came Dave's stunned response. Despite Helen's obvious predicament, he hadn't expected her to be so open about it. "Yes, I haven't been to the loo since about half past ten. I had a coffee just after that to get me through the meeting with Martin. Then we went straight to the pub. I had four pints there and because that pub is so bloody outdated, I never got to go" Helen blurted out. She jigged around slightly on the spot as she talked. "I've had probably 5 pints of liquid and haven't relieved myself in 5 and a half hours". "I see" said Dave, still stunned at his managers candour. "Do you think you'll be ok?" inquired Dave. "I don't know, but I've got to try, I'm right on the edge." Came Helen's strained response. "Can you do me a favour Dave?" "Of course" "Don't tell anyone about this, I'm new to this job and no one would ever take me seriously if they found out about this." Helen murmured. "No, no of course not." "Thanks" "Now let's get you to the loo, I've seen you drinking all that coffee in meetings Helen. I know you've got a bladder of steel. You can make it" Dave smiled, knowingly. Helen was slightly surprised to learn that anyone had noticed, but didn't have time to worry right now. She turned and began her way up the second flight of stairs. She continued gingerly placing one foot on each step, followed by the other. She cursed herself for wearing the skirt and heels, and vowed to wear more practical clothing in future if heavy drinking were to be involved. Her bladder pulsed again, and this time a strong spurt emanated from her crotch. Most of it ran down her legs but a few drops landed on the stair under her feet. She bent at the waist and crossed her legs again, hitching up her skirt and holding herself with one hand as she did it. Dave looked on in awe at his desperate boss, as her broad hips swayed seductively in his face. She wiggled back and forth, trying to contain herself while Dave enjoyed the show. Helen steeled herself for another few steps. She pushed off with one foot and placed it on the next step. She pushed off with the next foot and gasped as it slid out from beneath her, slipping on the pee from moments before. She sat down with a bump on the stair, and immediately the floodgates opened. Her skirt, stretched tight across her bladder, forced her pee out and through her now soaked thong at a rapid rate. A loud, high pitched hissing sound began as Helen sat, wetting herself in the back stairwell, as Dave looked on in amazement. Helen tried desperately to clamp off the flow, plunging her hand between her legs, trying to limit the damage to her clothes, and the damage to her reputation with Dave. But it was no good. Her tired bladder had been longing for relief for some time now, and Helen could do nothing to regain control over her tired muscles. Her stream continued unrelentingly for at least two minutes.As the flow slowed and eventually stopped, Helen stood up examined the damage to her clothes. Her skirt was totally ruined. The seat of her skirt was soaked through and large streaks ran all the way down the back of it. Her thong was soaked too, and her expensive black high heels also clearly showed traces of pee. "Oh god" Helen gasped. "Here, do you want my jacket?" Dave asked, sliding one arm out of the sleeve. "I think I better had" Helen replied. "Dave, could you do me a huge favour?" "Of course." "Here's the key to my locker, there's a spare pair of trousers in amongst some other clothes, could you go and get them and bring them to me? I'll be in the ladies on our floor." "Sure, do you want me to put them just outside the door or do you want to come out and get them?" Dave replied. "Err, I think there's bag somewhere in my locker too, if you put the trousers in there and leave it outside the door, then text me and I'll come out and get them" Helen said, still hugely embarrassed, but thankful for Dave's help. "Ok then, let's go" Dave said. Helen tied the sleeves of Dave's suit jacket around her waist, taking care to cover her soaked bottom with the body of the jacket, and continued up the stairs. The reception area of the DLB office was mercifully quiet, and Helen trotted quickly across it and into the toilet, whilst Dave headed for the lockers. Dave retrieved the trousers, bagged them up, left them outside the ladies and text Helen to let her know he had done so. Helen, having hidden in a cubicle, gratefully retrieved the trousers and changed into them, dried out her skirt as best she could, and disposed of her sodden underwear. She cursed the fact that she had chosen this pair of trousers as her spare pair as they were fairly old. They sat rather low (as had been the fashion at the time) and very tightly across her hips (barely acceptable for office wear) and fit snuggly around her firm, round bum. None of this was helped by the fact that Helen had put on some weight and was rather more voluptuous than when she had original bought them. They really were too tight, but they would have to do. Helen bagged up her skirt and exited the toilets. Dave, who sat close to reception, admired the view as Helen walked past him with her hips swaying seductively in the tight trousers.She returned to her desk, opened her laptop and settled back into her day to day groove of batting away emails and fielding the odd phone call from her bidding assistants. ***** About an hour later Helen felt a dull twinge in her bladder. She tried to put it off for a minute and complete an email, but the signal could not be ignored. She got up and made a quick dash to the ladies. In the 30 seconds it took to get there her desperation increased rapidly. Her tired muscles were screaming for relief and the tight trousers she was wearing were not helping as they compressed her bladder terribly. She entered the cubicle and tore her trousers down. Her tired sphincter muscles gave way and pee shot out of her at some rate for what must have been at least a minute. Only now had the last few pints caught up with Helen. Pleased she had avoiding a second accident, Helen wiped herself up, exited the toilet and went back to work. She only had half an hour left until she could leave. ***** At the end of the day Helen did not bother going again, despite a very slight twinge from her bladder. "There's no way I can need to go again this soon" she thought confidently. She filled up her water bottle and necked it straight away, as by now she was feeling the dehydrating effects of the earlier beers. She refilled it and sipped it slowly as she left the DLB office and made her way to the station. The half hour train journey never normally bothered Helen, but today was different. The busy train had no free seats, so Helen was forced to stand. By the time she reached her stop, she was clinging onto her composure for dear. Her tired bladder muscles were once again screaming for release. Her tight trousers allowed her to hold herself, which was a huge relief. Luckily for Helen she and John only lived a short five-minute walk from her nearest station. She hobbled the normal five-minute walk in just under ten minutes, shoved her key into the front door and flung it open. She flung her bag down and rushed for the bathroom. She took down her trousers, and once again released a torrent from her bladder. As she was getting changed out of her work clothes, Helen's mind began to wander back to her earlier accident. Dave, far from being disgusted, had seemed almost fascinated by her predicament. Helen wondered if this was just her mind playing tricks, but she decided she would take it up with Dave when they next spoke. Helen's mind then turned to Erica and Laura; what had become of her two assistant bidders? The last she had seen them they had been merrily throwing back drinks. Helen hadn't seen either of them leave the company of the DfT managers over the course of the whole lunch. Helen had struggled and ultimately disgraced herself, so what of Erica and Laura, who had been drinking far more than her? The next departmental meeting was going to be very interesting indeed! ***** To be continued...
  45. 1 point

    702 downloads

    8 various files : 5 from Alena and 3 from WetSet.

    Free

  46. 1 point

    Page 28

    Its been 84 years...
  47. 1 point

    Butterfly

    Thanks, guys. Chapter 2 “Let me get this straight,” Alera’s mother said, “I tell you I’m worried about your health and that you’re not to play any more video games, and your response is to tell me you want to travel hundreds of miles, stay in a hotel for three days, and play video games?” “Mom, you’re not getting it. It’s an invitational tournament. There’s money on the line just for showing up. If I lose all my games, I still get enough money that the trip practically pays for itself. If I win, I get fifteen thousand dollars. And I can pay for the trip myself.” She’d waited to gauge her mother’s reaction before she pulled out her real trump card. Now, with a flourish, she produced the check for fifteen hundred dollars. She handed it to her mother without a word. Her mother said nothing. She held the check up to the light, as if to verify that it was a forgery. She looked at the blank back. She peered intently at one part of it that, Alera guessed, said how much money she had won. Finally, her mother put the check down on the table. “Alera,” she said, “is this really true? You didn’t make some kind of fake check to fool me into letting you play more?” “It’s true, mom,” she said. “That came in the mail today. Remember when I told you last month I had placed third in that online tournament?” Her mother nodded. “That’s what I won. I thought I got scammed, because it never showed up in the mail, but it came today and it’s real.” Her mother shook her head. “This is a lot to take in,” she said. “Let me… think about it.” As long as you don’t take my computer away, Alera thought, think about it all you want. I’m eighteen years old, and you can’t stop me. Even if I have to steal your car, I’m going to that tournament. She left the check on the table and walked upstairs to her room. Her computer was thankfully still sat in its usual place. She almost sat down to log in, but then she remembered what she’d hidden at the back of her closet. The solution to her little problem. The one that Patrick nearly died of embarrassment to get for her, and even paid for with his own money. How many hours had Patrick spent working in the bike shop just to pay for her… Diapers? She’d been too embarrassed to look at the price, but she could imagine they weren’t cheap. She took a deep breath, then plunged her head in among her old coats and dresses that were too small on her, and fished out a large plastic package. The front of it displayed a plain white rectangle suspended between the legs of what looked to be a quite mature lady. She shuddered. These were meant for old people. Not teenage girls who were overly obsessed with video games. Alera almost chucked the package back in the closet, but then she noticed the back side. It was a similar picture, showing the offending undergarment suspended around the midsection of a woman, but this woman looked like she was Alera’s age, and she was smiling. Incontinence protection for women of all ages, read the label. She put the package on her desk. It was big enough that she needed to use both hands to carry it. Just how many… diapers… were in this thing? She shot a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure her mother hadn’t somehow sneaked up on her, then she grabbed a pair of scissors and cut open the package. She stuck her fingers in and managed to wriggle loose one of the tightly packed diapers. She pulled hard, and the thing came loose so suddenly and violently that it flew out of her hand and nearly knocked over her desktop lamp. Alera picked the diaper up off of the lamp and placed it on her bed. It was a huge rectangle. She couldn’t imagine how she’d possibly wear that under clothes without looking like, well, like she was wearing a diaper. The front had no colorful designs, like baby diapers; it was plain white, except for a yellow strip on the front. Alera blushed when she realized what that was for: it was a wetness indicator. To show off if and when she used her diaper. She took the cursed thing and flung it off the bed. Fuck this. I’m not a baby and I don’t need it. But then, as she was about to stomp on the diaper in defiance, her eyes flickered to her laundry basket. Alera walked over and took off the lid. The pungent aroma of old urine invaded her nostrils. There lay the evidence of her latest accident, which she’d been so upset about that she’d forgotten to put in the wash. Rummaging under the smelly, wet pajamas, she found two other pairs of panties with faded stains in the gusset from when she’d leaked on the way to the bathroom after a long gaming session. Cursing herself, she carried the whole pile of wet clothes into the laundry room and put them in the wash. Then she returned to her room and picked up the diaper. If I win fifteen thousand, who cares if I do so wearing a diaper? She gingerly unfolded the diaper. If it looked huge when folded up, when she’d unfolded it, it looked positively gargantuan. Do I even have any clothes that could cover this? Alera pulled off her jeans, then, with a sigh, she threw off her panties. They were light pink, and when she studied the insides, she saw, to her horror, that there was a discolored, faded stain in the middle. As if even her underwear was trying to tell her she needed this. Alera realized she had no idea how to put on a diaper. She had changed her baby cousin’s diapers, a few years ago when visiting her aunt, but one, he was a baby, and two, she wasn’t putting it on someone else, she was putting it on herself. And the thing she was currently hovering her bare butt over was about ten times the size of her cousin’s baby pants. She lowered herself onto it. It was surprisingly soft, like sitting on a pillow. Except normally, one didn’t strap a pillow between one’s legs and keep it there for the rest of the day, which was what she intended to do. She tried to pull the thing up and fasten it with the four tapes, but she couldn’t get it to sit properly on her hips. Alera cursed inwardly. Why is this so complicated? She only had a limited number of hours in the day, and if she was to have any shot at winning the fifteen thousand dollar grand prize, she needed to practice all night for the rest of the week. She didn’t have any goddamn time to spend on putting on this goddamn diaper. But on the other hand, if her mother caught her in wet pants again, she wouldn’t be able to practice at all. Finally, she’d fastened the tapes well enough that the diaper didn’t slide off. But when she rose from the bed, the thing sagged on her hips, and she could see downstairs to her nude crotch in the gap between her belly and the waistband. This thing was bone dry and it was already sagging like, well, like she’d used it. Twice. Which meant she’d probably done it wrong. Sighing, she waddled over to the computer. It wasn’t that the diaper was too thick to walk in normally; it was thick, and kept her legs uncomfortably apart, but not quite that thick. It was more so the fact that it hung so loosely on her hips that she felt like it would fall off if she didn’t waddle like she’d crapped her pants. Alera dialed up Patrick on a video call. She wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but there was nobody else she could talk to about this stuff. As she waited for Patrick to answer, she noticed that he’d sent something to her. It was a YouTube link to a cartoon video about an obsessive gamer who kept a “shit bucket” next to his computer, so he didn’t need to leave the game to crap. “Ha. Ha. Very funny, Patrick,” she said as his dirty-blonde hair and grinning face showed up on the screen. “For your information, I have never crapped myself.” “Just thought it was funny,” he said, doing his best imitation of an asshole teenage boy who had somehow body-snatched her best friend. “Come on, you gotta look on the bright side.” “Says you, and you’re not the one who has a goddamn diaper strapped to her waist.” “Oh, good, you put it on?” Blushing, she stood up and angled her webcam so he could see. “Oh my god,” he said. “One, that’s truly adorable.” “Adorable? Are you fucking kidding me?” “No, I mean that. But you interrupted me. One, adorable. Two, you appear to have put it on the wrong way.” She looked down. Goddamn it. There was a very clear word, “BACK”, written on the front of her diaper. So that’s why the thing sags like I poured a bucket of water into it. “Hold on, I’m coming over,” Patrick said. “What? No, no, you can’t see me like this.” “You already showed me. And somebody needs to make sure that thing is put on right.” “You’re not getting to see me naked, you perv!” Alera almost yelled, but managed to modulate her voice in time not to alert her mother downstairs. “Low blow, Al,” he said. “You know very well I’d never look at you in that way.” She did, at that. “Fine,” she said. “But only if you promise me you’ll finally ask James out this week.” The color drained from his face. “Alera, I can’t do that, you know why...” “We both know you want it. Why not?” “What if he’s not...” “Honey, we both know he is. You’re just afraid of rejection.” “Al, I don’t know...” “You get to see me literally naked if you’re willing to be emotionally naked for one goddamn second and go get the guy of your dreams. Seems like a fair deal. I don’t even get a fairy prince at the end of this, I only get, like, a fucking diaper put on the right way in case I piss myself.” “Oh… kay,” Patrick said. “Hold on, I’m coming over.” And he cut the connection. Alera smiled. Although she wasn’t looking forward to her best friend coming over to diaper her, she was very happy that Patrick had promised to finally ask James out. He was a boy Patrick had been crushing on for half a year, and she’d tried for half a year to convince him to ask the guy out, but Patrick had a pathological fear that not only would he be rejected, he’d be rejected because James wasn’t into his gender. Except both of them were 99% sure James was, in fact, gay, and Alera was almost as certain she’d caught the boy sneaking shy glances at her friend when he wasn’t looking. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Alera had huddled up under some blankets on her bed, hiding the shameful, back-to-front diaper from view. “Hey you,” Patrick said, as he opened the door. “Your mom let me in. I swear, the way she looks at me, you’d think she thinks of me as her son-in-law.” “She’s convinced you’re my boyfriend. I’ve told her a thousand times it’s not like that, but she’s so happy I’ve got a real friend to hang out with IRL that she refuses to listen.” “God, you’ve definitely spent too much time on the internet,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes. “What do you mean?” “You just said Aye Arr Ell out loud.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Alera said. “Just come over here and let’s get this over with.” She pushed the blankets out of the way, exposing her bare midriff where her shirt rode up, and below it, the poorly attached, sagging diaper. “My, my, you made a mess of this, and you haven’t even pissed in it yet,” Patrick said. “Please, let’s pretend you’re a nurse and be… professional about it,” Alera said. “Funny,” he said. “Okay, I think you need to take it off, you’ve ruined the tapes.” “Are you an expert on adult diapers suddenly?” He blushed. “No, but I can tell they’re not properly attached. Come on, off you go,” he said, reaching over to unfasten her tapes. “I can do it myself!” She nearly shouted. Carefully, slowly, she peeled off the tapes, and then, closing her eyes and blushing, she pulled the front of the diaper down, exposing herself to him. “You can keep your eyes closed if you’re embarrassed,” he said. “But just know I’m only looking at you for strictly, uh, medical purposes.” She heard the rustle as he pulled another diaper out of the pack. Then he instructed her to lay down and lift her bum as he slid the ruined diaper out from under her and replaced it with a fresh one. “Just for the record, this whole situation is super weird,” Patrick said. “Just so you know.” Alera felt his knuckles touch her belly, and she shivered. She kept her eyes closed, unable to meet his eyes as she worked on fastening her into her diaper. She wondered, idly, what it would be like to be touched down there by somebody she was in love with. She wasn’t in love with James, at least not romantically; even so, it felt good, somehow, someplace deep below the humiliation of it all, to be touched so lovingly by someone she loved, even if she wasn’t in love with him. He was gentle, and quick, and he made sure not to touch her more than absolutely necessary. Before she knew it, she felt him grab her under the armpits and hoist her up to a seated position. “All done!” He said. “You can open your eyes.” She did so, and looked down to see the diaper taped with the front actually placed in front of her, as intended. She rose from the bed and gave her hips a tentative shake. The diaper moved slightly, with an embarrassing plastic rustle, but it hung firm to her hips. “Oh my god,” she said, studying the diaper. “You’re brilliant. Do you really think I look, uh, adorable like this?” “You do look cute,” Patrick said. “Very cute, but not, like, in the same way...” “Not handsome and sexy, like James, you mean?” She winked at him. It was her way of reorienting the conversation from something that embarrassed her to something that embarrassed him. She could only bear for her childish underwear to remain the topic of conversation for so long. “Oh, don’t get started,” he said, affecting a childish pout. “You are going to ask him out, like you promised?” “I don’t know, Al,” he said, shrugging. “Patrick, for the love of god, you just saw me naked, you just touched me down there, and you just put a diaper on me, and all you have to do is ask your dream guy out on a date, which I know you’ve wanted to do for six months. Now, will you do it?” Alera put her hands on her hips, which looked quite silly, she reflected, when those hips were covered in baby underwear. “Yes, Ma’am,” Patrick said. “For real?” “I’ll do it the day after tomorrow. We have a class together on Wednesday.” “Good.” She nodded. “Now, uh, sorry to shoo you away, but the whole reason I put this thing on was I need to practice. I know I was kind of vague earlier, but I won a bunch of money, and they invited me to this LAN tournament where there’s fifteen damn thousand on the line for first place. So I kind of need to get my practice hours in.” “Wow,” Patrick said. “Congrats.” “It’s this weekend. Oh, Patrick, will you come with me? As my moral support and, like, coach or something?” He shook his head, less a gesture of disagreement, more one of confusion. “Alera, I’d love to, but look. I’m Silver rank in Vanguard. I don’t know shit about high-level strategies. I don’t know what possible use I’d be to you in a tournament, as a coach.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Silly, I’m not asking you to teach me strategy. I need someone as a moral support. To keep my head straight. And just maybe, keep my diapers facing the right way. I’m not asking you to be something you’re not. I’m asking you to be my friend, and help me focus on the right things, like you always do. But the letter said I can only bring one person backstage with me as a coach, so I’d have to register you as a coach.” “Okay,” Patrick said, as if she hadn’t just dumped a whole lot of responsibility on him with no promise of any particular reward. She felt her shoulders relax as he nodded. “In that case,” Patrick said, “as your coach, here’s your first order: You gotta find a practice partner. I may not know what the best strategies are, but I know you’re brilliant at finding them, and I know it’s not a great idea to reveal them all on the ladder before the big tournament.” Alera shook her head. She hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know who that would be,” she said. “I don’t really communicate with the other top players, outside of typing ‘gg’ after the end of a game.” Then she had an idea. “Wait! I know who to talk to! Thank you again, Patrick, you’re brilliant!” She sidled over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that her initial embarrassment about wearing the diaper in front of Patrick seemed to have vanished. As if, somehow, this was how things had always been between them. She sent him on his way, and then she sat down by her computer. Alera found the anonymous account she had beaten with her new strategy the other day, the one she was pretty sure belonged to a Korean grandmaster. She composed a personal message to the player: Hello, this is kind of strange, I know, but we played some games on the ladder this weekend. I am going to be playing in my first LAN tournament soon, and I’m looking for a practice partner. I think you might be Korean, and so we won’t be competing at the same tournaments, so you and I can both benefit from this. I know this might seem strange coming from a stranger, but I really enjoyed our games this weekend, and I believe you are one of the best players in the world, and I really need to practice against the best to be the best. Also, I beat you with that tech-delay timing attack, and if I were you I would want a chance at revenge. Sincerely, Butterfly She hit SEND. Then she sat staring at the screen. No response message was forthcoming. Of course not. The few times she received PMs, she took hours or even days to respond. Usually, they were from salty opponents who had lost to her, and were now there to insult her intelligence, her looks (even though she didn’t have any pictures of herself on her profile), her skills, or to accuse her of being a cheater. And if the anonymous account really belonged to one of the best players in South Korea, as she suspected, they must receive a lot of hate messages and a lot of stupid fan messages. She hopped into a ladder game, but for once, she was unable to focus on the game. She only managed to win because her opponent made a stupid mistake. She looked at her opponent’s profile. Hmm. Number sixty-seven on the ladder. Somehow, in the past few months, she had gone from being in awe at the top 100 players, when she herself was just breaking into that world, to now, somehow beating a solid top 100 player even though she was unfocused and played below her usual level. Ping! The little message bell rang out in her headphones. She quickly opened the message. It was written in very broken English, with passages that looked like they were taken straight from Google Translate. But as she pieced together an understanding of the reply, a smile crept onto her lips. The anonymous player confirmed that he was Korean, and said that he usually didn’t practice with players outside of his team—confirming, without a doubt, that this was an actual, honest-to-god professional—but that he was very intrigued with the strategy she had identified to exploit the weakness in his opening. “American players very bad,” he wrote, “I only play there sometime for relaxing. But you only one found good strategy.” They sent a few messages back and forth, and agreed that he would practice with her for a few days, in exchange for her finding a way to plug the hole in his opening strategy that she’d identified. Hands shaking with excitement, she typed: “What is your real nickname?” Three dots appeared, indicating the mysterious Korean grandmaster was typing. A single word in reply: Saehwong. Oh my fucking god. Alera opened the Korean ladder. Number one, Saehwong. 6900 Elo. She navigated to Liquipedia, the esports encyclopedia, to confirm her memory wasn’t playing tricks on her. She opened the page about the recent Vanguard World Championship. Runner-up: Saehwong. “Oh my god,” she said out loud. “The second best player in the world is going to be my practice partner!” The two of them played games together for five hours. She lost most of them, but she didn’t care. She was practicing against the best possible opposition, short of the actual world champion. And as she continued to play, she felt her confidence surge. She wasn’t as fast as him, and her strategies weren’t as refined, but by the fifth game, she no longer felt out of her depth. She never felt as if she didn’t understand why she lost, and she was able to implement immediate improvements to her game as a response. Some small-scale NA players are gonna be easy after this, she thought. As a final test, she said good-bye to Saehwong for the night and loaded into a ladder game on the North American ladder. She won, easily, using a strategy Saehwong had just used to beat her. Then she looked at her opponent’s profile. Number nine in North America. And I just beat him easily. He never had a chance! Alera knew her hopes of winning the tournament were slim. She had never played a LAN tournament before. She’d never played in front of a crowd, on a stage, with fifteen thousand dollars on the line. But for the first time since she received the invitation, she felt like it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. By that time, it was almost midnight. For the first time in many hours, Alera’s thoughts were pulled back to what she was wearing. And what she wasn’t wearing. Her diaper, thankfully, was dry, but her bladder was aching, and she knew she probably had no more than five minutes before it was too late. She also knew that in order to actually rush downstairs and pee, she needed to put on some pants. In her excitement, she hadn’t remembered to put any on after Patrick left.
  48. 1 point

    DLFF-308

    5,119 downloads

    All three parts of the DLFF-308 / DFF-308 set compiled together. Originally obtained and shared here by @YeChiang

    Free

  49. 1 point
    Definitely 1, but i wouldn't have the guts to go anywhere while wearing a diaper... Still wanna try using a diaper outside of my comfortable home zone but itd be one of those things id only do if i were chatting with someone who was doing the same thing at that moment...
  50. 1 point

    Mary Must Run

    Despite being a normal movie, without being directed to an audience with this fetish, it manages to be a perfect work of art of desperation. The film does not go around the bush in this area: From the beginning to the end it is shown that our protagonist wants to go to the bathroom REALLY bad. She shows her desperate drama and a touch of madness when confronted with fate while her bladder is getting closer and closer to bursting. The best I've seen in years, if not the best.
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