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  1. Hiya! I'm starting to think that my punishment of only diapers till Monday really suits me quite well... As I've kinda wet the bed again.. 🥺
    10 points
  2. 1,405 downloads

    We walked down to my mailbox to get my mail, I already had to pee so bad. When we got there I had forgot the key and I was so desperate I just went right there in my shorts and panties, there were people all around us and walked by us right after I wet my pants! My legs were soaked and it was so warm!
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    9 points
  3. Hope you all enjoy this one. I think it gets pretty intense by the end. Hope everyone who reads is having a good holiday season 😃 What a Wife Must Do My wife Karthi was walking next to me in the afternoon sunlight, a picture of radiance…..but also a picture of annoyance. There was a stiffness to her gait, and gazing at the swell coming from her lower abdomen underneath her traditional sari, I thought I knew the reason. “Is everything alright, my darling? You look tense,” I offered condolences with my tone. Karthi frowned and huffed, “It would be nice to get to the bathroom once in a day...” So it was true, the need to pee was interfering with her mood. I replayed the events of the day in my head and realized that what she was saying was accurate. She hadn’t left my side to take a single toilet break while we’d been out. In fact, the last time Karthi had relieved herself was this morning upon waking. “Would you like me to see if one of these shops has a women’s room you can use?” I asked with an apologetic tone, knowing that my desire for an all day outing was ultimately the reason for my wife’s discomfort. But Karthi shook her head, “I’ll just endure it. It’s nothing unusual, I always have to hold it…..” She said it with a mixture of disdain, pride, and resignation. Having grown up in an extremely traditional part of India, my wife had had her comfort breaks restricted from a young age, and I sometimes had to remind myself just how resilient she could be. We stayed out an hour longer, even getting some coconut water from a rickety stall when I got thirsty from talking, and Karthi accepted hers despite a frown. It was dusk when we arrived back at home, and after coming inside and removing her flats, Karthi grimaced once more, then walked immediately to the bathroom. Just before she was out of view, I watched as she turned and observed that the protrusion of her lower abdomen was even greater than when I had noticed it during our walk. A few seconds passed, during which the only sounds coming from behind the bathroom door were the rustling of Karthi’s sari as she hastily removed it, and then an almighty piss hit the bowl and blared through the entire house, such was its force. I was awestruck at how my wife could remain so outwardly calm when such a pressure raged within her. She hadn’t pissed in just over 14 hours, and her hissing torrent continued to assault my ears for well over a minute before dissipating. It was no wonder she had seemed so cross, with her muscles surely working with full resistance at all times to keep the flood held inside. After another minute, Karthi emerged from the bathroom, sweat on her forehead but otherwise looking unphased by her urinary display. “You really need to let me get to a bathroom more often. It’s not healthy when it gets so built up like that!” my wife told me later that night, as we sat at our dining room table, eating a little snack of bread pakora before bed. “Honey, I try to suggest it, but you’re not so keen on using public restrooms, remember? And besides, you have an enormous bladder and I’ve never seen you come to your limits before,” I replied, a little more stiffly than intended, as I couldn’t help but remember all the times I’d tried to find my Karthi a bathroom and been rebuffed. “I think you men get some sick enjoyment out of seeing women suffer like this. Just because my bladder is unnaturally large, is that an excuse to let it fill up until it hurts??” This was not the first time that Karthi had posited this question to me. It seemed to be something that came up once a month or so, and I again attributed it to her extraordinarily conservative upbringing. Sure, she would trade barbs like this with me in the evenings, but while we were out and in public, she was the picture of elegance. Her urinary distress was something that Karthi had begrudgingly accepted as a facet of her life, and while she talked like this on occasion, I knew that no action would ultimately come of it. “I think you’re overreacting a little. You’re strong enough down there to bear any burden, so you should do so with pride!” I tried playing to her ego now to diffuse the situation. Karthi’s cheeks took on an amber hue as she answered, though I couldn’t tell if it was from my strategy working, or from frustration, “You say that so lightly! You don’t know how much of a burden it is! My muscles have to be clamped like steel, even if my bladder is cramping and aching. This afternoon there was no respite for hours.” Seeing she was in a particular mood this evening, I let it go. Hearing Karthi talk about her bladder and her desperation in such a way was enough to fuel a hardon in my trousers, and my wife was blissfully unaware of the true reason for my passion when making love to her that night. It was only a couple days after this incident when a new hire began working at my office – a curvy woman named Raisha, a statuesque woman, but with wide hips and still a flat belly. My mind being what it is, my first thought was that it seemed the Gods had designed her to have as much space for a growing bladder in her belly as possible. But I tried to put this out of my mind to concentrate on my work. Besides, what were the odds of that? But as the next few days went on, I realized that my suspicions were apparently not far off at all. I sat in such a way where I had vision of both her desk and the women’s room door, and yet despite seeing Raisha sipping coffee on a daily basis, she never once made use of the women’s room. Surely her bladder must have been very spacious indeed to contain her flood all day long. On Friday afternoon, some of the other women in the office invited Raisha to go out drinking with them, and while I was certain that now she would take the opportunity to relieve herself before leaving, Raisha left with the other women and walked right past the bathroom door on her way out of the office. I could only imagine her bladder capacity, as well as the confidence she must have had in herself to hold on so long with no chance of a break. That evening, while making dinner conversation with Karthi, I began talking about the new hire in the office, and without thinking, I made mention of her seemingly bottomless bladder. It was meant as a harmless comment, but I saw my wife pause just for a second after the words left my lips. It was like someone had blown a puff of air directly into her face. Then Karthi gave a slight shake of her head and continued eating, but for the rest of the evening her conversation was more subdued. She seemed annoyed, even distant at times, which was quite unlike her. For all of her roughness and argumentative nature, Karthi was still an exceptional wife, and we were very in tune with one another, so for her to act this way was unnatural and frankly left me guessing and anxious. We went to bed, and I could almost hear her muttering to herself faintly as we laid on opposite sides of the bed, facing away from each other. Then sleep overtook me before I could dwell on this behavior too much longer. The next morning, I awoke to a furious splashing coming from the bathroom, which I quickly ascertained was my beautiful wife taking her morning piss. She had calmly slept through the night with a large amount of urine residing within her, enough to make most women wake up frantically only a couple hours after shutting their eyes. This was normal for her, but I did think that the sound coming from the bathroom was louder than usual, almost as if she was squeezing her muscles to force the piss out faster than usual to create such a vibration against the bowl. By the time I was fully awake and dressed, I came to the kitchen to see Karthi in a fine traditional sari and already drinking down a bottle of fruit juice. Karthi didn’t greet me, but I could see her looking at me out of the very corner of her eye, almost as if gauging my reaction to her urinary display. I said nothing for fear of angering her further, instead offering a normal “Good morning” only after she had finished and disposed of the empty bottle. I was planning on a relaxing day in, but to my surprise, Karthi suggested a day out, and she suggested in such a way with her tone that I knew there was no discussing the matter. This was rare, as normally I was the more outgoing of the two. But we left soon after, with Karthi grabbing a couple of additional bottles of fruit juice for the road. I’d thought the fruit juice was for both of us, but by the time we’d reached our destination (a city 2 hours from our house), Karthi had drained both bottles. Karthi always kept herself hydrated, but I was not used to seeing her consume this volume of liquid, especially so early in a day where we were so far from her preferred bathroom. While exiting the car, I decided to try and get on her good side, so I told her, “Hey dear, I see you’re drinking quite a lot. If you need to stop for a toilet soon, please let me know and I’ll try to find you a good place.” Instead of relief at my suggestion, Karthi nearly did a double take, but then told me in an edgy way, “No, don’t worry about such things. I am a woman and we have to control our bladders sometimes….” “Ok, but if you change your mind, just tell me,” I tried again, only to be rebuffed, “I will not change my mind. I’m very strong down there.” Imagine my surprise when 45 minutes later, after visiting one shop, the next thing Karthi did was buy a pouch of coconut water from a roadside stand. So much liquid she was consuming! I couldn’t help but get aroused at this display, but thankfully was able to control myself in such a public setting. I caught a slight squirm soon after she finished it, the first sign that all of her quick drinking was catching up to her. But Karthi made no mention of her need, and when we stopped for lunch, she ordered a tall glass of water with no hesitation and made sure the glass was empty when we left. When leaving, she had to pause briefly, as my wife’s large bladder was surely unhappy with just how much she was drinking, but when I pointed to the women’s restroom after making use of the men’s, Karthi shook her head and said nothing more. The afternoon continued on in much the same way – Karthi was clearly in need of a bathroom, but also quite clearly capable of waiting and determined to do so. Instead of berating me for an inability to find her a clean toilet, as I was used to in situations like this, she simply maintained her conviction to hold it and let her bladder swell to accommodate the mass of urine that was flowing into her. After a bottle of water in the afternoon and a full glass of sweet tea with our dinner, I was sure my wife was about to pop. It was as much as I’d ever seen her drink during a day, let alone a day when we were out in public and she was refraining from using a toilet. I could see the shape of her bladder under her sari, and it was swollen to the extreme. The pressure on her aching sphincter muscle must have been tremendous, but my Karthi bore it, despite a look of agitation on her face and the smaller steps she was having to take at this stage. When we reached our car, I asked her, “Karthi, it’s been 14 hours since you’ve had a pee. Are you sure you don’t want to find a bathroom before we depart? You look very uncomfortable.” Anger flashed on my wife’s face for a moment, then dissipated slightly, and she replied stubbornly, “Of course I’m uncomfortable, have you seen everything I’ve had to drink today?? But I haven’t used the bathroom once! Let’s just go home, I’m going to hold it...” There was no reasoning with her, and so that’s what we did. On the drive back, conversation was sparse, owing entirely to the amount of concentration that Karthi was focusing upon keeping her tired bladder sphincter clenched as tightly as possible. She looked to be in pain, and from the size of her bulging bladder, I could understand why. But she kept her legs crossed, kept a hand on the underside of her abdomen, and looked out the window for most of the journey, giving only short replies whenever I attempted to initiate some talking between us. We finally arrived home, pulling into the drive a full 16 hours after Karthi had taken her morning pee. She took a couple deep breaths before opening her passenger-side door and standing, as I watched her steel herself for the added pressure of gravity on her quivering bladder. I got to see a side profile view of her briefly before we began walking to the door, and I was gobsmacked at the size of her bladder. It was enormous, bulging out in an entirely unnatural way on her frame. Standing next to her to open our front door, I couldn’t help but notice that there was an intensity radiating from her, surely a result of just how strong of an effort she was making to keep her piss contained for just a few more seconds. Then we were inside, and Karthi walked purposefully to the bathroom, stopping only for a second to turn in my direction, as if to make sure I knew where she was going, and then she was in the bathroom. I heard the rustle of the sari being taken off, and then a piss unlike any I had heard from my wife before started in earnest. The echo of a waterfall reverberated off the walls of the bathroom and flowed through the entire house. I was having trouble believing just how much pressure Karthi had held at bay, listening to just how ferocious her piss was. I’d always known my wife had an iron bladder, but this was more than I’d ever heard from her before. It was a good 3 minutes before the monstrous pee came to an end, and I waited for Karthi to exit the bathroom, contemplating the earful I was about to receive for “forcing” her to hold as much as she just had. Instead, nothing of the sort happened, as my wife said nothing and passed me by to make a cup of tea. That night, just like the night of our previous day trip, our lovemaking was torrid and bold, but there was one difference. Karthi was the one who initiated. Visions of the giant bulge under her sari filled my mind’s eye as I came buckets into her ass to finish (Karthi’s dirty little secret that I was all too happy to indulge for her), and soon we both drifted off to a very content slumber. The following week of work was a slow one, but with one notable exception on Friday afternoon. Around 3:30 pm I was walking back to my desk from the break room when I heard what sounded like a burst pipe coming from inside the women’s bathroom. I almost went to ring maintenance, before I got a brief flashback of my wife’s ridiculous symphony of pee the prior weekend and realized that I was most likely listening to someone relieving themselves of an ungodly amount of piss. I hurried to my desk to avoid raising suspicion as to why I had suddenly come to a complete halt outside the women’s room, and also because I was developing quite the erection that needed to be hidden. When I sat, my eyes set on the desk of Raisha…...but there was no Raisha to be found. Odd, as she’d been sitting there all day as usual, drinking away at multiple refills from the oversized water bottle she had started bringing to work. Another minute passed with my brain working at a snail’s pace, though to be fair most of the blood in my body had been redirected elsewhere, before finally I realized that the blaring piss noise had stopped, and a few seconds later I saw Raisha and another female colleague exiting the women’s room. They were chattering and not being too quiet about it, and as Raisha got back to her desk I overheard a snippet of conversation. “Girl, you had to GO!” the other woman laughed, and Raisha had smiled genuinely, not at all embarrassed about her urinary performance as most women would be, and answered, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad! I just figured I’d accompany you! That’s what I get for continuing this liquid diet today. Slept through my alarm and had to rush to get here on time, so I didn’t even pee this morning!” “You’re too much, Raisha!” her friend cackled, patting her on the shoulder and continuing on to her own desk further away in the building. I could scarcely believe what I had heard. The reason for the deluge of piss that Raisha had just released from her perfectly proportioned body was a result of a skipped morning piss, plus extra water throughout the day! And she hadn’t even looked desperate during the day before she left her desk for that pee, which to my knowledge was the first work piss she’d ever taken. I couldn’t get Raisha’s urinary performance out of my head all afternoon. I got home that evening and my wife and I made idle conversation over dinner. She’d been in a good mood all week and I was reaping the benefits of that. During a lull in conversation, not thinking, the foremost thought in my brain slipped out and I commented to Karthi, “Hey dear, you remember how I’d told you about that woman at work, Raisha, who never seemed to use the bathroom?” Karthi’s body language changed immediately. Within a second, she had put her metaphorical guard up, but I could see her trying to stay calm and even-toned as she asked, “Yes – what’s new with her? Did she finally piss herself at her desk?” I continued to ramble, “No, no, just the opposite. She finally used the bathroom at work, and my goodness it was so loud! I swear the whole office must have heard her! Though I can only imagine how badly she had to go, for she said that she hadn’t even peed that morning before coming in. Overslept or something like that...” I trailed off at the end, as I’d looked back at my wife during my retelling of the story and saw that she’d gotten a weirdly intense look in her eyes, and she was now gripping her fork much harder than was necessary. “Are you ok?” I asked, confused at this reaction to a simple story. “I’m…..fine,” Karthi replied, clearly putting a great deal of effort into not shouting. The rest of the evening passed normally, though again I could sense that my wife was more tense than usual. Her before bed pee was not particularly long that night, but it made up for it in sheer volume. Like her morning pee the previous Saturday, it brought to my mind images of her squeezing to push the pee out as quickly and loudly as possible, though of course that made no logical sense, and so I made myself think of other things before she finished. Then I heard her move to the kitchen and the sink was turned on briefly, and Karthi came to the bedroom carrying a large glass of water, which she drank from heartily before laying down next to me. Soon I felt myself drifting off for the night, only to be awakened slightly by the movement of Karthi rolling over, taking the half-full glass off the nightstand, and drinking down the rest of the water before returning the empty glass to its position. A few minutes later and I was asleep. My wife and I both awoke early the next morning, and while I quickly made use of the bathroom to empty my bladder and brush my teeth, Karthi deliberately avoided the toilet when she joined me for her morning ritual of dental hygiene. She was refusing to even look at it, which caught my eye because Karthi always had a good deal of urine build up overnight and was keen to relieve her aching bladder in the mornings. My mind drifted to the large glass of water she’d had before bed and I realized that she was probably even fuller than usual this morning, which compounded my confusion at her strange behavior. My wife didn’t skimp on the coffee or juice with breakfast, and then busied herself with various tasks around the house. There was no reason to get to the chores so early in the day, especially on a weekend, and I couldn’t help but think that Karthi was trying to keep herself distracted from something. It took until 11 am, but then I noticed my wife squirm and clench at her thighs briefly while watering one of the plants we kept on the deck, and my foggy mind finally put two and two together. She was distracting herself from her bladder, which was now unrelieved for over 12 hours and surely must have been proving to be a burden for her. I wondered why she didn’t just go and pee. She never held deliberately when we were at home, as there was no reason to subject herself to that urinary torment. Still, I decided to do my best to relax and enjoy the show, if that’s what she was intent on providing to me, unintentionally or not. We had lunch around noon, and with it came another glass of water, and also some discreet jiggling from Karthi’s end of the table. I still said nothing about her plight and tried to make sure I was only watching out of the corner of my eye, lest she become suspicious of just how much I was looking her up and down. Then we went to do our own things, with Karthi sitting on the sofa to watch her shows on the television, and me curling up on a nearby chair with a nice book. I thought Karthi had calmed back down, as the jiggling had stopped, but an hour later I realized that she was so still that it was almost unnatural. Then I saw her fists clenched hard, muscles all over her body taut. The calmness was a facade, with my wife using her considerable endurance to keep herself from showing outward signs of desperation, but it came at the cost of keeping herself entirely tensed up at all times. Around 2 pm I saw she was actually sweating, and Karthi finally caught my eye, but instead of questioning my staring, she gulped, shut her eyes briefly, and then blurted out, “What time of day did Raisha use the bathroom again?!” This was far from the question I was expecting, and so I paused for a few seconds to clear my head before replying, “When…….oh, do you mean my story about work yesterday? Gosh, well…..let me think. I guess it was about half past 3. Why do you ask?” Karthi could barely restrain herself upon hearing my answer. “Gahhhh!” a half-shout half-grunt emitted from her lips before she could cut it off, but then my wife silenced herself, crossed her legs, and replied, “No reason. It was just on my mind.” As the afternoon wore on, Karthi looked downright uncomfortable. One leg was crossed over the other, and some shifting on the sofa had begun, her ample rump moving this way for a few seconds, then that way, never staying still for more than a minute or two at most. When Karthi got up from her seat around 2:30, only to return a minute later clutching a glass of water, I nearly fell out of my own chair. What was she doing?? Still, I thought better than to bring attention to her odd urinary behavior. Within a few minutes, the glass was emptied, and somehow Karthi’s resolve seemed to have strengthened. The squirming was kept to a minimum, though her bladder was bulging out ominously over her silk pajama bottoms that she had never changed out of. There was more tension, and more sweat, but otherwise her bladder’s urgency seemed to have calmed down for the time. When Karthi’s eyes flicked to the clock on the far side of the wall and saw that it read 3:30, a devilish smile crept over the corners of her mouth. She was sitting upright now and appeared to be almost hyper alert, as if adrenaline was coursing through her veins, and she sat and watched her shows for another half an hour, before finally rising from her seat at 4 pm, wincing ever so slightly at her bladder’s distaste for this new position, and then walked with stiff but elegant steps to the bathroom. I was still pretending to read, but once Karthi entered the bathroom, I put down my book and readied my ears, and sure enough within some seconds she was in full flow, her piss shooting out of her and into the toilet for the first time in over 17 hours. On and on the stream went, never losing intensity until abruptly finishing a good 2 ½ minutes later. I briefly considered whether it was actually hurting to have the piss exit her body with such speed and fury. But I kept these thoughts to myself as Karthi reentered the room, her cheeks slightly reddened, and perhaps I could detect a hint of pride in the way she calmly sat back down on the sofa, but otherwise we both kept our thoughts unspoken and continued to have a relaxing day. Karthi’s odd bathroom behavior stayed on my mind for the rest of the day, and I felt like the reason for it was just out of reach, like my mind was in a fog and the answer was just on the other side of the dim haze, currently unreachable but growing ever more clear as the hours passed. We went to bed, where I tossed and turned for most of the night, and finally I snapped awake at 3 am and it all made sense to me. Unable to wait until a better hour of the morning, I shook my darling wife awake and then asked her, “Karthi…..are you jealous of my coworker Raisha’s large bladder?” For a second I thought Karthi was going to go off on me, for having woken her up in the middle of the night and then followed that up by bringing up my attractive female coworker, but then Karthi’s features softened as she looked into my eyes and realized how honest of a question it was, and she answered me, “Jealous……..is not the right word. Honey, this is difficult for me to admit, but while waiting for hours without a toilet is painful for me, and having SUCH a full bladder is a real burden, and having to control the unfathomable pressure that bears down on me every second just screaming for release….well, it is not easy, let me say that. I’ve always begrudgingly accepted that this was what I had to do. And like you know, I am certainly built for the task. My bladder can swell to gigantic proportions, and it will feel like steel down there because it is so hard from being so full. But then….when you talked about Raisha, when you talked so calmly and eagerly about how strong her giant bladder is….it struck a nerve that I didn’t know existed in me. All of a sudden, because her ability impressed you, I think, I felt pride for my bladder capacity. And I am more than a little possessive of you. So I needed you to see, that as well as you think Raisha and her perfect bladder can hold, I can outdo her. I can be more impressive than her. I feel that…..I MUST have the strongest and the biggest bladder of any woman you know. I need to prove that I am that woman. I don’t expect you to fully understand, and honestly, I’m still trying to work out these feelings myself, but I have this fire deep inside that is burning and telling me that I must be the best for you.” Wordlessly, I reached over and wrapped Karthi in a hard hug, not letting go for minutes, stunned and appreciating her honesty. And to think she was putting herself through this torment due to her feelings for me! When I let her go we were both glowing, despite the ridiculous hour of the morning. I asked her, “And so, after last weekend and this weekend, do you feel like you’ve proven your point?” Karthi considered this, and then her brow furrowed and she unexpectedly said, “Actually…...no. I don’t. Because I know that next week, you’re going to go back into work, and Raisha will avoid the toilets all day as usual, and you’ll always have that question in your head of whether she can hold it better. Even if you say that you won’t, I know you will. Men can’t help but think of such unsavory things.” Rather than deny what we both knew to be true, I thought for a moment and asked, “So what can we do then, to put your mind at ease?” Karthi was silent for several minutes, and then she blurted out, “A contest!” Seeing the look of shock on my face, she continued, “It’s the only way to prove for certain who is better. Raisha and I must have a waiting contest. I will not lose, because I must not lose.” I was trying to comprehend what my wife had just suggested, but I surely was not about to turn down such an idea. We discussed it until sunlight began to enter our bedroom window, but by then it was settled – I was to convince Raisha to enter into this contest against my wife Karthi, and they would battle it out until one woman had to quit and take a much needed piss. It was devilishly simple, and yet I found myself wondering if there was any way that Raisha would ever accept such a proposal. “I accept your proposal,” Raisha said flatly, but full of confidence, barely after I was able to get the words out of my mouth. It was the following Monday, and after a few hours of sweating over my decision to ask such an…..indecent request of my work colleague, I had sidled up to Raisha’s desk after lunch, with no one else in the near vicinity, and popped the question, “Raisha, forgive me in advance, because this is quite a strange request. I can’t help but notice that you rarely seem to, er, use the facilities while at work. One day, I’d mentioned this to my wife, just from talking, don’t think I was paying more attention to you than I should have! But you see, my wife is the same way, and she’s dreamed up the idea of doing a sort of….well, a competition between the two of you, to see who could hold it longer before one of you has to, you know…….PEE.” My rambling suggestion had not put Raisha off in the slightest, and I was now going weak at the knees, as never in a million years had I thought she would accept the idea with such ease. I almost gulped, “Um…..are you sure you don’t want to think about it first?” Raisha grinned, but it was not a friendly grin, it was the grin of a lioness hunting her prey and knowing she was about to feast, “There’s nothing to think about, honey. As I’m sure you’ve recognized from sitting across from me this long, I’ve got a bladder that can hold as much as I tell it to, for as long as I tell it to. I don’t think you know just how big it really is. A contest will be no problem. But let’s up the stakes a little, just to make sure your wife goes all out. If I win, I get a date with you. What do you say? Agreeable terms?” My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow. “Yes, Raisha, I’ll have to confirm with my wife, but she was so adamant about this contest that I can’t imagine her declining.” Somehow, Raisha’s grin widened, the corners of her mouth nearly at her ears. As I went back to my desk, I could feel my heart throbbing in my chest. I didn’t know Raisha had such a sense of competitiveness in her, but she was downright scary in that conversation, brimming with a confidence that bordered on fanaticism. I could see it in her eyes. However kind and sane she had seemed during our time in the office, behind the facade was a woman hell bent on success and urinary superiority, and I was sure she would stop at nothing to keep her bladder shut at all costs. That night, I explained Raisha’s date idea to my wife, and without batting an eye Karthi accepted. “That bitch!” she grumbled fiercely, contemplating the audacity of Raisha’s suggestion. Both women had displayed such intensity in their manners when it came to this challenge that I was almost uneasy, trying to contemplate just how far both women were prepared to push themselves, as well as the ramifications on the psyche of the one who inevitably lost. It was decided that Raisha would visit our home on Friday. We only had a half day in the office that day, so she could arrive by noon, and then the contest would begin, and both ladies would drink until one of them had to admit defeat and go pee. Talk of the contest did not dominate my conversations with either woman during the rest of the week, but they both made sure to make snide comments and jabs at the other to me every day, and I felt bad blood hanging in the air even though neither woman had actually met the other. Raisha had started making eye contact with me every time she tipped back her water bottle to take a drink, and on Thursday night, as Karthi and I were in bed, my wife looked me in the eyes and promised me that she would not lose. I could barely concentrate on anything at work Friday morning, and was thankful to leave my desk and head home, even though my heart was beating louder and faster in my chest, because I knew that the moment of truth was now at hand. At 11:55 am, as Karthi and I were seated in silence in the living room, neither talking, simply considering what was to come, there was a rapt knock on the door. We made eye contact for a moment and I gave my wife a hug and a kiss and whispered “Good luck, you can do it” in her ear, and then I opened the door to find her challenger standing at the ready. Raisha strode into our home, and Karthi got up to greet her, both women refusing to give an inch as they stood across from one another. Both looked stunning in their traditional saris, and again I couldn’t help but stare at Raisha’s larger frame and how perfect her proportions were for giving a bladder sufficient room to stretch and expand. Karthi, of course, was no slouch either, and I knew what she was capable of and just how far she could force her bladder to protrude in her abdomen, but I wondered…...would it be enough to defeat the seemingly unphasable Raisha? She looked like she could comfortably hold liters inside herself. Nevertheless, that’s what we were all here, and as I shut the door Raisha asked how we were going to begin. Karthi gave a shrug and said coldly, “Whatever you want,”, and in an instant, Raisha’s eyes gleamed. It was the same gleam I had seen in her eyes when I proposed the contest to her in the first place, and I nearly flinched away from it, such was the power in that look. Terrorizing confidence, I thought. “Ok, then in that case, it’s not about what I want. It’s about what HE wants,” Raisha said firmly, pointing at me. I blanched, but she continued to Karthi, “We do whatever your husband wants. Whatever he wants us to drink, we drink. And when you can’t hold it anymore, then the contest is over, and then I’ll be more than happy to set up that date.” Karthi caught my eye briefly, then turned her head back to Raisha and muttered, “Agreed.” And with that, both women turned and looked at me expectantly for instructions. Hearing this, I was a nervous wreck, but at the same time, I’d visualized a moment like this in my wildest dreams, and before my brain had a chance to think further, I told them both, “Alright ladies. Right now, both of you need to go and pee. Gotta start out even and empty, no advantages!” There was a brief pause and silence when I finished speaking, because I don’t think either woman believed I’d slip so easily into my role as taskmaster. But then Raisha smirked and nodded, “The man wants what the man wants.” And she walked unaccompanied into our hallway, found the bathroom door, and entered. Karthi and I looked at each other, and our eyebrows raised as Raisha’s stream hit the bowl with enough force to carry the sound into the living room. It only went on for 30 seconds or so, not a record breaking piss, but I felt my palms growing sweaty at the thought that Raisha was already holding a fair amount of pressurized piss inside, and would have had no problem starting the contest with such a disadvantage. Her belief in herself was bordering on the absurd. When she exited the bathroom a minute later and returned to the living room, Karthi went into the bathroom, but she was out barely a minute later. She had already squeezed out everything earlier in the morning, so I’d bet her piss didn’t even last 15 seconds, and I wasn’t able to hear it from the living room like with Raisha’s blasting stream. Raisha couldn’t contain her glee at this, and even when Karthi returned to the living room, my coworker kept her gaze affixed to me. “Alright, now that you’re both ready to begin, let me get you ladies some drinks!” I announced, making my way into the kitchen. Both women nodded, and my only hope was that a catfight didn’t break out between them for the couple minutes that I was not in the same room as them to act as mediator. Karthi and I had already prepared for this contest the last time we’d done our shopping, buying lots of drinks, but what she didn’t know was that I’d gone back to the store later on my own to get more, just to be safe. I had to carry the first batch of liquid out to the women in two trips, due to how much I’d selected, but my heart was pounding so fast that I couldn’t help myself. Both women were now seated, Raisha in my chair at the far end of the room, and Karthi on the sofa. In front of both of them, I had placed a large glass of water, and a 1.25 liter carton of black currant juice. Karthi shot me a look of confusion, not remembering buying the juice during our jaunt to the store. Raisha appeared so ready for the start of the contest that she was nearly gleaming. “This will go RIGHT through us!……..One of us, at least…” my coworker said delightfully. Karthi nodded back at her in defiance, and without further ado, both women picked up their carton of black currant juice and began to drink. For probably 10 seconds there was nothing but the sound of liquid being gulped down, neither woman even wanting to be the first to stop chugging the juice that would soon be posing disastrous consequences for both of their bladders. Eventually Karthi did put down the drink to take a breath, and Raisha soon followed, as if waiting to make sure she beat Karthi by just a second in this first little contest between them. With both women so resolute on starting strong, it was no more than 10 minutes before the giant cartons of black currant juice sat empty. In another 10, both tall glasses of water were also plunked down, empty. Without missing a beat, I took the empty cartons and glasses away. The cartons were thrown out in the bin, but the glasses were refilled from the tap, and I came back out to the women with yet another tall glass of water for them to drink. I don’t think either was expecting this after the chugging performance they had both put on. Neither woman wanted to show any fear in the face of the other, however, and so within minutes both glasses were chugged down, maybe a mite slower than the last. At that point, I let the women rest. They were both rubbing their midsections a little to cope with all the drinking, as a good 2 liters of fluids were now streaming through them, sat for now in their stomachs, but I knew it would not be long before it would be entering and bloating out their gargantuan bladders. How long they could keep the liquid from exiting would be up to them. The first few hours passed without incident. Neither woman wanted to fill her stomach with a full meal, but they both snacked on an assortment of breads and nuts to keep their strength up. They already had enough sugar coursing through them for the whole day from the cartons of black currant juice. I insisted on another tall glass of water for each of them as they dined, and neither woman refused this insistence. By 4 pm both women were sitting calmly in the living room. I thought I could detect bulges forming in their abdomens under the saris, but at this point it was tough to be certain. They had drunk a sufficient volume to have a normal woman gagging for the loo, but Raisha and Karthi were not normal women and possessed bladder capacities that were easily extraordinary. “Are you sure you’re not feeling the pressure?” Karthi prodded the taller woman. Raisha laughed gleefully and flashed her perfect smile, “Karthi, dear, you must know this contest is futile. My bladder is ALWAYS capable of waiting.” It was time for me to jump in. “I was afraid you might say that,” I began, trying to keep my heart rate under control at the thought of what I was about to say, “which is why I think it might be time for some more liquid…” Raisha actually rolled her eyes at me, and then motioned to the empty water glass in front of her. “Well go on then. Let’s get your wife’s bladder full to bursting so that we can end this,” she said, her tone conveying boredom. “Perhaps some more water can come later,” I replied, now making my way to the fridge once more, “but for now….” I reached in and pulled out two 750 ml cans of beer. “Let’s have you drink one of these!” I finished, striding back into the living room and placing the cans before both women. Karthi immediately shot me a look. We had bought the beer together, but the agreed-upon intent was to use it in the late night, and only if absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for her, I had deemed it necessary now. Raisha looked perturbed, aware that the brand I’d purchased had some diuretic properties that she’d surely feel the effects of. But, seeing that my gaze had not left her, the voluptuous woman smoothed back an errant lock of hair behind her ear, then flashed her winning smile once more and accepted the beverage. Neither woman seemed interested in a chugging contest at this juncture, but they both worked on the beers at a steady pace and finished them within minutes of each other. My mind’s eye was now going wild, trying to picture with x-ray vision the liquid coursing through their bodies, with both women’s ample bladders now becoming more firm and bloating up under their traditional Indian garments. How long could their composure really last in the face of such an unrelenting supply of liquid? Why, even during Karthi’s big holds that I had witnessed over the years, she had never pushed the fluids like this. I had to trust that her unwavering resolve would hold. The only way the camel Raisha could be beaten was to fill her voluminous reservoir to the max and hope that Karthi could find it within herself to match her. Another hour passed. Both women had more or less stopped making small talk. Perhaps they were sitting up a little straighter, but neither wanted to show signs that the truckload of liquids they’d been asked to consume were having an effect on their sterling abilities to hold their pee. I knew that under normal circumstances, Karthi would have muttered to me multiple times by now about how full her bladder was getting and how I needed to find her a toilet. But with Raisha seated next to her on our sofa, she kept up her brave face and said nothing. Raisha, for her part, was doing her best to continue giving off her air of calm, like this contest was completely beneath her, but as she idly shifted her legs, I could tell she was feeling the pee that was slowly inflating her bladder. It was time to make these ladies handle even more pressure. “I think more drinks are in store. What do you say, ladies?” Karthi gave me a grumpy nod. She knew what had to be done, even if her bladder was already complaining at her. Raisha again showed only confidence at my suggestion, boldly stating, “You know, you’ve seen me leave the office on Friday nights to go out drinking with the girls on more than one occasion. A little beer isn’t a worry for me. I never pee at the bar. So come on, let’s have them and drink up. I think your wife’s about to pop!” I nodded, then made for the fridge and returned in short order. “Since you put it that way…..I was planning on spacing these out a little more, but I don’t want to bore you strong-bladdered ladies, so I suppose you can finish off the 6 pack now.” In my hand was the carton that contained the 4 remaining 750 ml cans of beer from the 6 pack. In truth, I really had only been planning to give 1 more each to the women at this stage, but Raisha’s boastfulness helped change my mind. All four 750 ml cans of beer were placed on the table, with each woman now required to drink an additional 1.5 liters of beer on top of the heavy amount of liquids they’d already had that afternoon. Their bodies were surely waterlogged by now, and nearly all of this harsh, unforgiving liquid would flow right through them uninterrupted into their cavernous bladders. Karthi gulped, then nodded and gave a soft “Let’s do this” under her breath, though the stare she was giving the cans in front of her was not dissimilar to the look a convict gives to the gallows. Raisha looked downright miffed, though it was difficult to discern if that was due to the thought of what this additional beer would do to her bladder, or because I had once again refused to let her get the upper hand with her boasting. Karthi shut her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, grabbed the first can, and began to chug it down. Raisha took a moment to regard me, noting the confident grin on my face and the horny flush of my cheeks, and said flatly, “I told you, beer isn’t a worry to me. My bladder will just hold it.” And then she began to drink as well. The women snacked a little more in an effort to prevent the alcohol from getting to their heads, but by and large the next 15 minutes was spent either drinking or catching one’s breath. Karthi had chugged down most of the first can almost immediately, but had slowed midway into the second, the oversupply of fluids growing heavy in her stomach. Raisha, on the other hand, was like a machine. She didn’t drink with the initial speed of Karthi, but she was consistently working her way through both cans while refusing to show any sign of weakness. Even when she paused for breath, the air went in and out in steady, even breaths, and her face maintained a look of determination. It was horribly erotic for me to see both women so fiercely dialed in now, the contest taking a turn and becoming more serious now that it was evident that both women possessed giant capacities. Amazingly, even with all that they had drank, neither woman’s composure broke once the beer cans all lay empty on the table. They stayed seated, though as the minutes dragged by, both women’s posture became ever stiffer. It was clear that their bladders were expanding with reckless abandon, the beer streaming into their bladders just as I had predicted, but neither wanted to be the first to break and show a real, true sign of needing to pee. Frankly I was shocked, as the amount of liquid they’d drank would have made me pee 3 or 4 times over, and yet here they both still sat. If I hadn’t been with them for the whole afternoon and seen the incredible amounts that they’d already pushed past their lips, I wouldn’t be able to tell with certainty that either woman needed a ladies room. It was like a stalemate, neither woman willing to concede that her bladder required emptying. Only from my years of being with Karthi in such situations could I tell just how hard she was squeezing her muscles to be able to sit normally. A small part of me actually began to fear that neither woman would give in and show a sign of desperation, and would rather burn out their holding muscles and piss themselves right here on the sofa without moving an inch. As it got to be 6 pm and still neither woman would budge, I decided it was time to make them budge whether they wanted to or not. “Alright girls, let’s get you both up. Since you’re both still not feeling the effects of all those drinks, I thought it might be nice to go for a walk together. What do you think?” Karthi was up quickly, using the suggestion as an excuse to walk around the living room under the pretense of looking out the window to check the weather, whereby also giving her beleaguered holding muscles a very slight break since she could move and tense her legs as much as she needed. Raisha glared at me with an expression that I could tell was trying not to be too bitter, but failing. And I knew the reason why. Karthi had been clenching harder than Raisha by the end and her posture was much more rigid, and my coworker no doubt felt that it was only a matter of time before Karthi cracked if they’d stayed in their silent battle, seated and trying to show no signs of urgency. By giving Karthi the chance to move her legs without losing this battle of wills, I’d given my wife a way out of the predicament. And no doubt, Raisha had calmed her bladder as much as possible and found herself in a solid holding position, and the thought of having to jostle her stretched, aching organ with a walk was weighing on her mind. It took a few more moments, but Raisha stood, and as Karthi headed to the door, Raisha hung by me for a moment to whisper, “I know what you’re doing. Clever, but it won’t matter. My bladder is too strong for it to matter.” Then she followed Karthi out the door, and I got a nice view of both women’s behinds in their form-fitting saris as I exited the house last and locked the door behind me. We walked a couple blocks, and I saw both women clenching their fists at certain times as their bladders gave a particularly hard squeeze, asking for relief and emptiness. Obviously neither conceded to their bladders’ requests. Could I hear the breath of both women hissing through their teeth as they fought off waves of bladder urgency? Yes, I could, but the fact that these were the only signs of piss need that either woman was displaying at this stage of the contest was nothing short of fascinating. Even more fascinating considering that I could now plainly see the swollen bulges of their bladders coming through the saris, and yet both women continued to walk and contain what had to be unfathomable pressure within. Eventually we returned to the house, with Raisha walking with precise steps right back to the sofa, where she sat down just a little too quickly to come off as calm. I could tell she was trying to regain the position and the control that she’d had prior to the walk, but I wasn’t sure how well it would work, now that even more beer had entered into her precariously bloating bladder. Karthi, however, did not sit. Her bladder had now become so full that it was not possible to keep up an air of calm as Raisha was maintaining. Karthi began pacing in a circle around the living room. It took Raisha a few moments, as she was fighting her own battle for control, but when she realized that Karthi was not sitting, and was actually showing a sign of desperation, her eyes grew wide and she piped up, “Hah! Look at your wifey now! She’s actually struggling around the room just to keep her pee in! She can’t sit and hold it like a real woman.” Karthi was properly enraged by this comment and replied, “I know you have just as much inside you! Just wait…..I may be doing this to stay in control, but I WILL stay in control and I WILL hold it. As long as it takes.” Raisha nodded, but the smile slowly melted off her face, and her answer came with cold, emotionless determination, “I agree. As long as it takes.” I had honestly been expecting a fairly straightforward climax to the contest at this point, as surely the crazy amount of drinks both women had consumed would be pushing their bladders into territory that even they couldn’t hold through. The bladder bulges I had witnessed during our walk had appeared nothing short of painful, and I knew that with each passing minute, those bulges were getting imperceptibly larger. The pressure growing imperceptibly stronger. And their muscles growing imperceptibly weaker. These women were amazing, they were in possession of the biggest bladders and the strongest willpower that I’d ever seen, but they were still human. They still had limits. And eventually they had to crack. These were the thoughts going through my mind. And yet, both women seemed completely hellbent on proving me wrong in these assertions. 7 pm became 8, and 8 became 9, and still the women held on in much the same manner. Raisha’s posture on the sofa had become even stiffer. She was now almost more statue than woman. And Karthi had been alternating her pacing with some sitting, though her legs would jiggle whenever she was seated. My wife also had a downright cross expression on her face from time to time, which I recognized as the expression she wore when her bladder was painfully full. Again, I was certain that the game was coming to its end, and Raisha had begun staring with increased frequency at Karthi’s moving legs, as if willing them to stop fighting and separate and let the piss pour forth from between them. Both women were sporting bladder bulges that were beyond incredible, but what I couldn’t believe was that against all odds, Raisha was still sitting. Her posture was tense enough to crack an egg, and she certainly appeared stressed, but that was it. 9 hours after this contest began, with more drinks than any one woman could hope to contain, and Raisha still hadn’t so much as crossed her legs. What would it take to make her bladder crack? Or at this point, just what would it take to even make her composure crack? I saw that my wife was struggling, and I’d be lying if I didn’t start wondering if she really had what it took to defeat such a titan of bladder control in Raisha. It wasn’t Karthi’s fault. She had a huge bladder in her own right. And she had willpower on top of willpower. But Raisha was perfect for this task. It was like her body had been genetically gifted from the gods to be the ultimate holding machine. Her hips were so wide and yet her belly so (normally) flat, her proportions such that it gave her bladder maximum room to expand and contain its volume. And if she was constructed to be so perfect on the outside, it stood to reason that on the inside were holding muscles at the base of her bladder that were equally perfect. Completely impenetrable. Able to squeeze for eternity without ever faltering, no matter the pressure that they were bearing. Surely there weren’t two other women in the country who could have held this volume for this length of time, but as I watched Karthi get up and begin to pace anew, I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that Raisha was a holding goddess, and my wife just couldn’t match up. As soon as this thought entered my mind fully, I knew I had to act. It was now nearly 10 pm, as time had passed while I sat and watched the two champions of piss holding battle it out, almost in a daze. And so I rose, went to our bedroom briefly, and returned with a small bottle clutched in my right hand. “Ladies,” I said, grabbing their attention. Karthi’s head snapped around to face me, and I could see fear in her eyes. “Please….I…..I don’t think I can drink anything else right now…” she started hastily, while Raisha’s eyes began shining with this admission. She was so close to the victory now! But I raised a hand to stop my wife’s pleas, and then laid out my next command, “It seems we’ve reached an impasse. You’re both equipped with such large and powerful bladders, and I never imagined the contest would take this long to decide. But I must admit that you have tired me out. I need to retire to bed for the night, but I also can’t fathom missing the ending of such a hard fought contest. Thankfully I have a solution.” I raised my right hand. Some months prior, I had dealt with a nasty bout of insomnia, for which my doctor had generously prescribed me with high strength sleeping pills. I had taken most of them before the situation resolved itself, but a few remained in the pill bottle in my hand. “I think we could all use a good night of rest. And I know that even if you two bladder queens don’t want to show it, you’ve both got to be expending a lot of effort to keep control of yourselves, and I doubt you’d be able to sleep a wink in this state. So if you’ll each agree to take a sleeping pill, they should knock you out regardless, and we can all get a quality night of sleep and continue this contest in the morning. Raisha, you’re welcome to sleep in our guest room.” Neither woman replied for a few seconds. Then Raisha cocked her head at me, as if my words were just now making their way to her, “You mean…….you want us to go to sleep…….WITHOUT pissing? You want us to keep holding our bladders at this level of fullness until TOMORROW??” I feigned surprise at the question. “Well, yes. This is a holding contest, after all! I assumed that you’re both strong enough that this wouldn’t be an issue. Is it?” I could tell my question was like nails on a chalkboard to Raisha. She couldn’t admit any weakness now, not with Karthi standing only feet to her left. But my plan was obviously messing with her psyche. She had to have been sure that Karthi would last no more than a couple hours longer, and then she’d be free to piss out all that overload of pee that she’d kept in so perfectly for the entire afternoon. But no, now Raisha was having to grapple with the concept of continuing to hold her full bladder for hours upon hours longer. It took maybe 15 seconds of silence, but then her inner pride won out and I could see Raisha make a conscious decision to settle in for the long haul, and she flicked her hair in an attempt to look graceful and replied, “No, it’s not an issue. I told you, I can hold my urine inside my bladder as long as I want. It does not matter how much urine I’m already holding or how long I have to wait. You will find that my bladder is very…..VERY patient.” It was almost scary witnessing the internal switch flip for Raisha, seeing just how many levels of resolute, unmoving willpower she contained. Next I turned to Karthi, who looked decidedly unsure about this course of action, but then she bent her knees slightly as another wave of bladder urgency came over her, glared at Raisha’s perfect posture, and nodded her assent to my plan. I procured one sleeping pill for each woman, more than enough to give them a good night of sleep, no matter how much pain their bladders were in, and both women regarded each other grimly, internally blaming the other for the pain that currently resided in their abdomens, before Raisha entered our guest room and Karthi and I entered our bedroom. “You can’t win.” Raisha said flatly before closing her door. Not much was said between Karthi and I once we were alone. I knew she had to reserve her focus for the contest, and in any case, what was there to say? Raisha had a bladder of steel. We both knew it. Could Karthi really hold on long enough to win? Could she really force her own bladder to contain more urine than Raisha’s gargantuan tank? New thoughts began to enter my mind. Perhaps Raisha’s bladder was not divinely blessed. Perhaps she’d made a deal with the devil – a perfect iron bladder in exchange for her soul. She was simply too strong. Any holding contest against her was unwinnable. And as these thoughts began to grow in volume and swirl around my head, my wife must have noticed the distress on my face, because she pulled me in, hugging me despite the additional strain this put on her aching bladder, and told me firmly, “I love you, and I am going to win. I don’t care what happens or what it takes, but I promise you….I will not pee before Raisha. Please trust me.” I gazed into my wife’s eyes, as full of love for her as I ever had been, and decided that I would. We drifted off to sleep together, just as Raisha did in the guest room, and in my dreams I saw dual figures hovering above Raisha’s sleeping form – it was an angel and a demon, both marveling the handiwork that their leaders had bestowed upon Raisha to give her that perfect, unfailing bladder. The dream seemed to last for hours, with both of them watching as Raisha’s bladder continued to fill, but never in the whole dream did a single drop of urine escape her. For whether it was given to her from heaven or from hell, her bladder was entirely flawless. I awoke the next morning, my forehead damp with sweat from the intensity of my dream. I needed to clear my mind, so I rose from the bed to go and brew a pot of coffee. It was early, and Karthi still slept soundly on her side of the bed, the sleeping pill having done its job. As I exited our bedroom and passed the guest room, I heard no movement on the other side of the door, a sign that Raisha was still getting a much needed rest as well. The dream was already foggy by the time I reached the kitchen, and as I drank down my morning cup of coffee, it left me entirely. It was 8 am when both women stirred. They entered the kitchen one after the other with slow steps. I could tell they were trying to mask the fullness of their bladders by playing off their walking pace as a result of still being tired, but I knew it was a direct consequence of the near-exploding bladders inside them. I swore I could almost hear their bladders creaking from the fullness. The beer had done its job over the night, filling both women up even further, and as I stared at both women’s bladder bulges in their saris, again I began to think that surely there had to be some limit to all of this. Their bladders looked fit to burst if they had to hold anymore. Last night they could have been called swollen. Hell, a few hours into the contest they could have been called swollen. This was something else entirely. The women’s bladders protruded out in front of them in grotesque fashion. I was certain that underneath the saris, veins would have been visible on the abdomens of both women, their skin having been stretched so thin as they forced their bladders to handle more piss than should have been possible. Against all odds, Raisha’s walk was still normal other than her slow footfalls, and she sat at the kitchen table with practiced posture. Within her, there had to be a storm brewing, her composure hanging by a thread, but impossibly it was still there. What would it TAKE to break her?? My Karthi, on the other hand, was having a much harder time handling the pressure. Her legs were crossing every few steps, and her hand was brushing by her crotch at times, getting dangerously close to actually holding herself. When she sat opposite Raisha, Karthi instantly crossed her legs, shifting from side to side a few times as well before settling in. But her legs stayed crossed. I was ready for the two women, having brewed a full pot of coffee, other than the one cup I took from it. “Good morning ladies! 20 hours and still going strong, I see! Coffee?” Raisha’s right eye visibly twitched at the question, but her gaze was almost manic with its determination as she nodded. “It doesn’t matter what you try to do. My bladder control is impenetrable. Your wife will lose eventually, and we will have our date.” she said evenly, trying and mostly succeeding to control a grimace that was forming at the corners of her lips. I acknowledged her response, then turned to my wife. Karthi let out a brief moan of pain, her bladder fuller than I had ever seen it before, but she also nodded. Not content to take things easy on the girls, even at the start of the day, I decided to act as if their bladders truly were unbreakable, and to that end I got out 4 mugs and poured them each 2 large cups of coffee. The women drank, also having a light amount of toast and fruit as a breakfast, and when Raisha put her last cup down, I saw a tremor in her hand, and her eye twitched once more, though otherwise her body was unmoving. Karthi groaned again and crossed her legs more tightly upon finishing her own second mug of coffee. My wife’s resolve was absolute, but she had to be nearing the physical limits of her bladder. The fight she was putting up to stay in control of herself was tremendous. But I didn’t know how much longer she could persevere in the face of Raisha’s stoic determination. We moved again to the living room. Raisha assumed her now-normal place on the sofa. She was sitting upright, her back as straight as a board, surely a result of the immense tension that she was being forced to handle. Her legs remained uncrossed. I thought I saw the heels of her feet come off the ground for a moment, one at a time, every so often, but this was such a controlled version of the normal desperate leg jiggling I was accustomed to seeing from desperate women that it was impressive for its sheer simplicity. Any other woman, Karthi included, would have their legs moving up and down at a decent pace if trying to stay in control of this mammoth load of pee while sitting. For Raisha, that nearly imperceptible movement in her feet was all she allowed herself. Discomfort was strewn across my coworker’s sweating face, her expression as sour as I’d ever seen it. But she remained, somehow, in control, like a ticking timebomb, but she would not blow. Raisha’s level of composure in the face of this torturous pressure was absurd. I could scarcely call it fair to call the signs she’d shown as cracks in her armor. It was more like a boiling kettle letting off steam. Her whole body was completely pressurized, but the only way any of that pressure ever released to the surface was in the form of an eye twitch here, a raise of the heel there. Minute, innocuous gestures. Part of me wondered just what it would TAKE for her to hold her crotch. It didn’t seem possible that she’d ever let her control break down to that level. By direct contrast, Karthi was a mess. Within minutes of entering the living room, the coffee must have started to reach her bladder, and any slivers of room that remained in her engorged urinary sack were now completely filled up. My wife’s bladder had unleashed a renewed onslaught on her defenses. It did not care about winning the contest. It cared only about relief. Karthi was forced to fight harder as her bladder squeezed and exerted even more pressure, her muscles now having to work twice as hard to keep the flood at bay. She was pacing the room, but this time there was a definite urgency to the pacing that was not there the night before. Last night, she was pacing due to discomfort. Today, 12 hours later, she was pacing because she was getting to the verge of pissing herself. As a big wave overtook her, Karthi’s hands came down to her thighs and she gripped the sari against her thighs hard. Her knees bent inwards, and while she did not hold herself, not yet, the desperation was evident in her body language and there was concern etched on her face. Her bladder had done so well, it had cooperated more than it ever had, but now it was beginning to finally rebel. For over 20 hours it had held firm, but now the damned drinks were finally becoming too much. I could tell that now she would only last for as long as she could keep squeezing her holding muscles at full power. If her control over her aching, tired bladder sphincter wavered even for a moment, it could spell disaster and the end of the contest. In the face of Raisha’s continued control, I knew that I would quit if it was me on the other end of this contest. But Karthi was dug in, and I realized that now more than ever, she was prepared to scratch, claw, and fight to the bitter end, one way or another. Being with the two women as the morning dragged on, it was evident that Raisha was watching Karthi’s desperation with a look that was so unnatural it was almost inhuman. It was the epitome of a famished lioness stalking its wounded prey. Salvation, and relief, was so close. Her foe was at the end of her rope. The morning coffee had decimated Karthi’s defenses, while Raisha’s iron bladder bore the load even now. But minutes kept passing, and Karthi would not let herself leak. In the face of this continued resistance, Raisha’s expression had changed into one of contempt for her opponent. I thought I could detect a faint shaking coming from Raisha’s whole body, as her pristine figure struggled to keep suppressing the raging tides within. At 9 am there was a definite break in composure. However, it came not from Raisha, but from my wife. As the largest urge yet struck her, Karthi shoved one hand directly to her crotch in order to stay dry. With a groan, she still resisted peeing, but when the wave passed, Karthi’s hand did not return to her side, but rather stayed on her upper thigh. It appeared she needed the additional support, and needed to keep that hand within inches of her crotch should she need a repeat performance. For Raisha, this display of insolence from Karthi, refusing to concede an obviously lost contest, was almost more than her ego could bear, and upon seeing that Karthi was not quitting, my shapely coworker said irritably, “For God’s sake, woman. Isn’t it obvious that you can’t compare to me? Just piss yourself already!” Karthi gasped as another wave of bladder pain came over her, but then fired back with a cry of “Never! You can’t break me!” Raisha was almost seething with anger, and in a flash, she stood straight up from her spot on the couch and took a few steps towards Karthi, who was now stepping from foot to foot to fight her bladder. For a couple seconds I thought Raisha was going to initiate a real conflict and was about to step in, but then the taller woman stopped mere feet from Karthi and gestured to herself, “Look at me! And look at you! Do you see my figure? Do you see my bladder? Look at how large it has become! You can’t possibly outhold me! Give up!” Indeed, even if it didn’t work on Karthi, Raisha’s intimidation tactic worked completely on me. Her titanic bulging bladder was so enormous in front of her, so large it was obscene. It was almost as though she was flashing us, though her tight sari kept the bladder fully covered, but that was how uncompromisingly sexual the bulge appeared to me. Karthi’s engorged organ was no less impressive in size and scope, but the disparity of their composure was as plain to see as ever as the two women stood face to face. Raisha was pained and sweaty, her body almost vibrating, but STILL her control stayed firm as she stood upright, hands on her hips in frustration. Karthi’s eyes showed defiance, but her body was giving up on her. Her sphincter was overloaded with pressure, and her stepping from foot to foot had nearly become a hop as she tried to stay in place to look Raisha in the eyes instead of continuing her pacing. It took my wife a few seconds to compose herself enough to reply to Raisha’s command to surrender, but with a glint in her eye, Karthi spat back, “I’m fine. Let’s see how strong you are.” With Raisha’s face now going red with anger, Karthi turned to me and asked with sarcastic politeness, “Do you think we could have some more to drink? I’m thirsty.” I never would have believed the question that came from Karthi’s lips, but there is was. I also never would have believed Raisha’s reaction to the question, as I watched her whole body visibly flinch at the idea of filling herself further. I almost thought she would be the one to halt me, but instead Raisha simply returned to her seat on the sofa, muttering curses and insults under her breath. But as I walked past her and into the kitchen, I heard a phrase jump out at me in amongst the tapestry of swearing – “You can hold it.” I entered the kitchen, but it took me a few seconds to focus, because I was busy comprehending the fact that Raisha was now having to give herself a verbal pep talk to maintain her composure. I thought carefully about my next move, and then, reaching into the fridge, I decided on my next weapon. I placed the next drink of choice down on the coffee table between both women – two more 1.25 liter cartons of black currant juice, one for each of them. Karthi, having been the one to suggest this additional liquid, made no hesitation in grabbing her carton and beginning to drink, even though this required putting her free hand on her crotch and twisting her legs to settle the vast ocean of piss that was banging at her gates. Raisha did not grab her carton. She sat, still as stone. I saw her glowering at the carton that was set before her. She was staring at it with nothing short of loathing. Could I detect just a fraction of fear mixed into that gaze, from what this liquid would surely do to her already corpulent bladder? I wasn’t sure, but still Raisha sat, making no move to pick up the carton, even as Karthi finally removed her own carton from her lips, now 1/3 drank. Raisha’s lips were moving, as if she was talking to herself, but there was only silence between them. I couldn’t tell if she was just that deep into her focus, going into the place in the depths of her mind and body that a true bladder queen must have access to in order to reach their full potential, or if she was simply going mad from the unrelenting strain on her bladder. A bead of sweat flowed down her face, from her temple down the outer edge of her cheek, before dipping to her neck and then onto her sari. Looking down, I saw her fists were balled up, knuckles completely white. The redness that had entered her face during her standoff with Karthi had not left, and if anything had grown and deepened in color. Raisha was like an overinflated tire about to burst, and her body began to shake once more. I could almost see the insides of her body calling out “Red alert! Red alert! The pressure is too much! She’s gonna blow!” No woman could stay this composed in the face of this many drinks, not even Raisha. Her hand began reaching for the carton, but she had only just raised it when her right eye twitched again, and then down her hand went. I waited a further minute, but even as Karthi put her own carton to her lips to continue drinking, Raisha kept her ample bottom firmly planted in her seat, her gaze set in an unbreakable staring contest with the carton of black currant juice. “Raisha?” I asked, almost (almost) genuinely concerned about her, and that broke her gaze. She blinked, then turned her head to look at me, then back to the 1.25 liter carton of juice. As soon as the juice was back in her line of sight, her whole body flinched again. Her legs remained next to each other, uncrossed, but Raisha seemed to be tensing every muscle in her body to its maximum. Then, with a growl unlike anything I’d ever heard from a woman before, Raisha hastily swiped up the carton and put it to her lips, chugging furiously. Only after some seconds did she put it down to breathe, but her irate gazing upon the carton did not cease, and it was no more than a minute before she picked the carton back up again to continue drinking. Karthi was even watching her now with something between reverence and fascination, her free hand permanently glued to her vagina. But Raisha was a woman possessed, guzzling down the black currant juice with reckless abandon, and despite her late start, both women emptied their cartons at precisely the same time. There was no confident quip from my well-proportioned coworker now. She continued staring at the carton of juice, and her face now had a mix of horror on it. Karthi resumed her frantic pee dancing, as I willed her not to break. As the minutes passed, the juice was undoubtedly wreaking havoc on both women’s bladders. Raisha was almost quaking in her seat, her body finally rejecting the load it was containing. She was curling inward very slowly, as if the weight of her bladder was pulling and affecting a gravitational force on the rest of her body to circle around it. Karthi was leaning with her back on the wall of the far side of the room, hand clamped firmly on her vagina over her sari. My wife groaned, the loudest one she’d let out yet, but kept in control. Then I began to hear a high pitched whine. For a second, I thought I’d left the kettle on, though I had never set it to begin with. Then my ears adjusted and I realized that the sound was coming from the bladder queen Raisha. Her face was beet red as if she was a champion weightlifter in the midst of a record setting lift, and perhaps that wasn’t too far off. Her eye twitched once more, then twitched again. Her hands, which had previously been balled into fists at her side, were now clutching at the fabric of her sari on her thighs. The toll it was taking on Raisha’s perfect form to suppress this level of piss need was insane. It could not last, even for someone as physically gifted as her. Her whole body seemed ready to detonate. “Raisha,” I asked hesitantly, “Are you alright?” The proud woman jerked her head in my direction, and if I’d thought she’d been looking at Karthi with contempt earlier, it was nothing compared to the daggers that were coming from her eyes now. “You……..You knew what you were doing,” Raisha began, each word dripping with scowling disgust, “After all this…...coming back with more of that DAMNED black currant juice. Within an hour of drinking it yesterday, it had sent my body into overdrive. Already, my bladder felt full, and I had to clench hard to hold it in. But I did, because I am a real woman, and I can hold it. But it has been so long…..SO LONG that I have had to keep myself shut. You don’t know the power it’s taken! And now to force me to drink more of that evil, vile liquid?!?? There is not a woman on earth whose bladder could withstand it! It is torture! My muscles!” Raisha threw back her head, and for the first time since the contest began over 21 hours before, she wailed in bladder agony. “Ohhhhhhhhh!” the wail continued as Raisha’s sturdy thighs FINALLY crossed one over the other. Her composure had cracked at last. I could see adrenaline flowing through Karthi at the sight, even as she continued to step from foot to foot. The onslaught of pressure on Raisha’s sphincter had to be overwhelming, but still no piss spurted forth from between her legs. Finally Raisha ran out of breath, and when her head came back down, it was now positively drenched in sweat. Her eyes seemed simultaneously dark and gleaming, and this time when she looked at me I instinctively flinched away, for those eyes now held definite tinges of madness within. “You see?? You see what you’ve forced me to become?? What you’ve forced me to endure??” She turned to Karthi and raged on, “You will not win! I will not quit! My bladder can hold oceans! There is no limit! You cannot break me!” With another surge of adrenaline, Karthi managed to calm her pee dancing to a mere quiver, and answered back, “You cannot break me either! Endure as long as you want. Everyone needs to pee eventually…...even you, Raisha.” Now that the heavily fortified dam of Raisha’s composure had been breached, the full-figured woman’s legs remained tightly crossed, and her hands were dangerously close to being thrust between them. I had no doubt that her shapely thighs were pressed together with enough force to crush diamonds. But as the adrenaline burst wore off of Karthi, I could also see just what dire straits my wife was in. Her bladder was at war with her determination to outlast the perfect Raisha. Karthi’s sari was damp with sweat from her desperate dancing and clenching efforts. Not ten minutes after Raisha’s outburst, Karthi doubled over for some seconds due to a new wave of increased bladder agony, the black currant juice having a similar effect on her as it was on Raisha. The willpower of the two women was unreal. By 10 am, it seemed that the entirety of both cartons of black currant juice had been deposited into the warring women’s bladders. Somehow their size even dwarfed their sizes from when each woman entered the kitchen that morning. “Painful” was too benign a term to describe what it surely felt like, to have their awesome holding tanks stretched to such awful proportions. I was sure the skin underneath their saris was red and angry. Karthi was huffing and puffing as she continued to frantically dance around the room. Raisha looked positively fit to burst, and was now groaning in pain at ever-increasing intervals. Similar to how she had stared upon the carton of black currant juice, she was now regarding her hands with something resembling terror. They were still clenched on her thighs, but appeared to be perilously creeping towards her vagina. It was as if Raisha’s mind couldn’t comprehend the fact that she might actually need to resort to holding herself to stay in control of her mammoth bladder. Then a prolonged groan was uttered, and it came not from Raisha, but from Karthi. My wife had sunk to her knees, both hands clutching desperately at her crotch to hold back the impending flood that was threatening to spurt out of her. Raisha’s eyes gleamed like fire, “Yes! I told you that you’d have to eat those words! You can’t hold more than me, Karthi! Let it out!” Karthi was whimpering in agony, doubling and redoubling her efforts to keep her exhausted bladder shut. She was seconds from disaster. Another groan was forced past her quivering lips. Sweat and hair matted her face, and with panic on her face Karthi fought the overwhelming urge. “That’s right! Piss! Piss!” Raisha cackled, venom tinging every word. The seconds passed, and soon turned into minutes, and still Karthi fought, on her knees, surely in her final spiral of defeat, but holding on with everything in her power. Raisha’s glee at the thought of victory had turned once again to bitterness, as she watched my wife continue to hold in her enormous load of pent up piss, which had to be right at the edge of her urethra but still would not burst forth. “Dammit, just quit! Have a piss! You need it! You need it! You-” Raisha yelled desperately at her, but Karthi’s position remained unchanged, and then a howl left Raisha’s lips as the largest wave of bladder shaking urgency yet wracked her body, and after another anguished moment of indecision, she finally plunged her hands into the crevice between her legs and unabashedly held her vagina with both hands to stem her own oncoming tides. “I refuse to piss!!! You can’t get me to piss!!!” Raisha wailed in misery, grinding against her hands, as if giving her fingers some sort of agonized lap dance. It was a sight to behold, both women in the throes of complete and utter bladder torment, but still too prideful and competitive to give. Their bladders had to be nearly bursting inside them, begging and pleading with their owners to end this madness and release their rivers of dark, frothing yellow piss. Neither heeded these calls of nature, still resolute to the end that they could outhold the other. As the minutes passed, it became evident that once again the ladies had reached a stalemate, though this time it was a stalemate on the absolute edge of disaster. They were both on the verge of experiencing total bladder failures in their saris, but that did not stop them from putting every fiber of their being into the continued resistance from pissing. I couldn’t believe they still had reserves of muscle strength to draw on, such was the effort they were both pouring in to keep themselves clamped down with every additional second of holding. I looked at my wife, whose face was nearly purple from the strain of continuing to fight against her body’s needs. Her engorged bladder had to be sending waves of tremendous pain coursing through her constantly, but her will was unshakable. After nearly 15 minutes of maintaining her position on her knees on the floor, with both hands shoved deep into her crotch, Karthi gave a defiant yell and stood back up. The reprieve was short-lived, as she was letting out mewls of intense discomfort every few seconds while taking the smallest of steps, her legs needing to cross and re-cross multiple times, but her piss stayed in. Raisha’s entire form was quivering as she sat on the couch, her hands also violently pressing in to her vagina through the sari, preventing the absolute rupture of her overworked bladder. The two women were reaching the endgame of such a brutal hold, where their bodies would rebel no matter how much they tried to endure. “Raisha,” I asked suddenly, a question coming to my mind, “have you ever wet yourself before?” Raisha turned to me with a horrified expression, “Never! And I will keep it that way! You will see! My bladder does not burst. I do not pee before I am ready.” I continued to press, “Are you sure? Not even when you were a girl growing up?” “Never!” came the stark reply. Raisha then shut her eyes and screwed her lips shut to muffle a groan, and I imagined that she was picturing the relief that pissing all through her sari would bring. Every new wave, every grunt of effort, every renewed crossing of legs and pressing of hands into their nether regions presented a new opportunity for the contest to come to an end. Both women’s bladder control remained on a knife’s edge. Losing the slightest bit of concentration for even a second could spell defeat. But these women were animals. Still neither would quit, despite it all. At 11 am I noted that Raisha was now snorting and huffing like a bull, taking great breaths to provide her faltering muscles with even more oxygen to continue the fight for survival. Karthi’s whimpers were high pitched and unending, as she’d reached a state of desperation I didn’t believe possible. Nothing seemed to exist to her outside of holding her bladder shut for a few more seconds, then a few more, then a few more. She was trapped in an infinite cycle of pain and desperation, facing an unbeatable foe, with no way out unless she gave in. But every few minutes she would catch my eye, and I knew that my wife was not going to give in on her own. But could her body really handle any additional pressure? Surely even will would not be enough soon. Karthi had parked herself for the time being in the chair in the corner of the room, where she had drawn her legs up to herself and was furiously kneading at her completely spent holding muscles. If I’d walked in on her without any prior context, I’d think she was performing an obscene masturbation ritual, but it was all simply a last ditch effort to keep her muscles from failing completely. Raisha stamped her feet in frustration and pain as yet another wave of bladder urgency came over her. “Fuck! Just pee so this can be over!” she yelled out, but her eyes were squeezed shut, and part of me wondered if Raisha was yelling at Karthi or at herself for her own foolish pride. She threw back her head and moaned again, overcome with the urges from her bladder that she was having to hold in. Their loads of piss had become white hot pressures within their cores. And the pressure never decreased. It was always getting worse, all the time becoming more brutal, more difficult to hold, using further amounts of inner resources to maintain. It was ridiculous that neither woman had burst yet. They were both dying to urinate in the worst way, perhaps worse than any other woman in history had ever needed to go. Of course this was past any limits I had known for Karthi. But my wife was proving that her strong bladder could match up to anyone, even the amazon stature of Raisha and her impeccable control. Both women had become increasingly frantic, if that could be possible, and I could sense that each of their holding muscles must have been twitching, threatening to fail and let their bladder bombs detonate at any moment. Only by intensely redoubling their holding efforts did each woman avoid springing a leak. With something bordering on shock, I glanced at my watch and realized that it was now 12 noon. A full 24 hours had passed since our simple contest of wills and bladders began, and against every conceivable odd, both women remained unrelieved. With all that the women had been drinking, I had expected the contest to finish by late afternoon on the first day, and certainly by that night. Procuring the sleeping pills to keep the contest going through the night and into the next day had been a lucky stroke, nothing more. The two paragons of composure that had existed at the start of the contest were no more. In their place were trembling husks of women, overfull with hot, pressing urine, capable of doing or thinking about nothing except keeping themselves dry and holding. I had known that my Karthi would fight to the bitter end, though clearly I had underestimated where the bitter end lay for her. But Raisha’s competitive fire and resolve were nothing short of monstrous. Even with her once perfect posture broken, her will had refused to crack under the pressure. As she’d told it, she’d been clamping down for almost the entirety of the contest, and yet she continued to sit, her bladder now a tight drum ballooning from her abdomen, the heavy, aching piss that lay inside still under her control, if only just. Both women were mesmerizing, and I admitted to myself that I’d spent the majority of the morning in a daze as I watched them push themselves past any known limits. I thought it was only fitting to mark the 24th hour with a drink, as I was truly beginning to believe that neither of these women may be breakable after all. Perhaps the contest would continue indefinitely, the two women stuck in a neverending battle for bladder superiority. I knew this could not be true, and yet nothing that had happened thus far in the contest could adequately convince me that it was not at least a possibility. I went to the kitchen and checked our well-stocked fridge, returning with a 750 ml can of beer for each woman. Such was their focus that neither seemed to comprehend what was about to be asked of them when I set the 2 cans down on the table in front of them. “Karthi! Raisha!” I said firmly to get their attention, “I have to congratulate both of you. It’s been a full day, 24 hours, since either of you have released even a single drop of urine! I felt we could celebrate this achievement with a beer. Would that be acceptable for you?” Karthi could barely even look at the can of beer. It was like she was trying to look at the sun, the beer radiating a blinding pain in her eyes with every glance. It took her some seconds, but deep within, she still possessed a burning resolve for victory, and so she forced herself to rise from her chair and walk with halting steps to the table to claim her can. Then back to the chair, where she popped the can open before setting it down and burying both hands against her groin to stay in control of her flood. Raisha, for her part, appeared to be in a trance. Her lips were moving but I could not hear what she was saying. I leaned over near her face and caught the words, “More beer. Won’t pee. More beer. Won’t pee.” being repeated over and over, so softly that I could still barely make them out. The unforgiving level of fullness in her bladder seemed to be legitimately driving Raisha mad. I was beginning to get worried that she may not actually understand that she had to drink, but then Raisha’s hand struck out and clamped upon the beer can, and she brought it back to her body. The whole time her voice was raising in volume, emitting the same chant, “More beer. Won’t pee. More beer! Won’t pee! More beer! Won’t pee!” until she was yelling out the words, and with a final hysterical cry, Raisha forced the can to her lips and drank deeply. I cocked my head in Karthi’s direction for just a moment to see her grabbing her can to keep pace. Raisha was chugging with reckless abandon. Her eyes showed fury. Her body was so tense she could have been carved from granite. With her chanting stopped, the only sounds coming from the room were the gulping noises in the throats of both women as they choked down more liquid to add to their completely untenable load of long held piss. Then Raisha threw down the can, empty. Seconds later, Karthi put down her own empty can, having matched her rival once again. “Ahhhhhh!!!” a bloodcurdling scream shook the room as Raisha bent over, holding her giant, swollen abdomen in her arms. When she raised her head, there were tears of pain in her darting eyes, and she roared out “HOLD IT!!!” Her dedication to the task was frightening. On the other side of the room, Karthi was squirming hysterically in her chair. Veins were bulging on either side of her neck, and her cheeks were even puffed up from the effort. Both women were primed to explode. Neither did. I devolved back into my haze as I watched the scene unfold in front of me. Both women’s control lay in tatters. They had nothing left. The war they waged against their bladders was ultimately unwinnable. But now it was I that felt stuck in a time loop, because the hands on my watch continued to turn, and every time I’d look back up, both Karthi and Raisha were still keeping their bodies on total lockdown. The pressure, the unrelenting, unstoppable pressure, was driving them both insane, but still neither woman would crack. They had kept their bladder control perfect for over 24 hours. Their level of effort was verging on disgusting for its totality. Each woman was a rock, firmly planted against the oncoming tides. And so, in the trance of my own, I did the only thing I could do. I sat and I watched. Sweat was now enveloping both women so much that their saris were becoming slightly see thru. Their bladders were utter monstrosities, globes of stabbing piss pain distended to the point that it appeared both women had large cantaloupes smuggled underneath their traditional Indian garb. Their holding muscles had to be clinging to their last vestiges of strength. The thought of holding in a composed manner was no longer even a dream – it was a dream of a dream. Karthi, if it was possible, was clutching her crotch tighter still, and I could even see the muscles in her arms working from how hard she was pulling up against herself in this last ditch effort to hold her pee. Raisha was moaning in pain and her whole body was shuddering. The shuddering had begun in earnest mere minutes after finishing her beer, and as time went on, it did not stop, not even for a moment. Her perfectly proportioned body had become so acutely overpressurized that I couldn’t believe she wasn’t erupting right then and there. The force of will needed to handle such an overbearing urge to piss was incomprehensible. By 1 pm I sensed panic coming from Karthi, as her muscles were hitting their final breaking points. She’d begun to shift with more and more franticness, and was at this point just a constant ball of energy, unable to hold in a single position for more than a second before needing to readjust again. She was using every possible crutch that she could think of to prop up her ailing muscles, but they were beyond exhausted now and were failing her. Raisha’s shuddering had only increased, and with it, she was now having uncontrollable, full body spasms that would rip through her out of nowhere. With each spasm she would grunt as if she was being struck, holding her bladder shut through each spasm with unfathomable levels of force. Our holding contest idea had become a verifiable horror show of desperation. Each woman had sunk to previously unplumbed depths to continue their hold, and now they were at the bottom – at bedrock. Nothing mattered but the hold. Their bodies were perfect, and they would force themselves to endure. “Why...don’t...you...just...QUIT?!” Raisha spat out in a fury. The question shocked both Karthi and I, for I didn’t know that Raisha was even capable of speech by this point. “You’re not…..better than me!” Karthi sputtered back, “I have…..to show my…..husband….that I am the best! I will outhold you Raisha!” Even as she said it, Karthi had to get up from her chair to furiously pee dance, which was quite the sight with her bloated belly quivering this way and that. Raisha’s eyes looked like they were about to bug out of her head, and she roared back, “I DON’T PEE! You cannot win against me! My bladder is perfect! It’s PERFECT!” With a yowl of pain, the voluptuous Raisha double crossed her legs and drove both hands against her vagina once more, as wave after wave of unrelenting bladder pain ripped through her. The pressure on both ladies’ bladders was ultimately too high. It was too much. They would tap. But instead they imposed upon their bodies one unalterable rule – HOLD. While a fountain of piss should have burst forth from both women at any moment, it didn’t. The clock struck 2 pm. 26 hours of torturous holding separated both Karthi and Raisha from their last taste of relief. Their bodies were battered, their minds broken. Only their spirits remained to keep them in this excruciating battle of bladder dominance. Raisha, once a strong, confident woman with a bladder of steel, was now laying on the sofa. Her hands weren’t even on her crotch anymore. They were on her breathtaking abdomen, clutching at it as if to massage away the pain within. But of course, there was no respite. The only respite was to pee. And it was the one thing Raisha could not do. She lay, a suffering mess, her muscles spent but yet still holding on for dear life. Her shaking form was so delicate, I thought that one unwanted touch, one pinprick, would cause her to explode without hesitation. Karthi was no longer seated in her chair. She was on the floor, on all fours, and even in this position her spherical bladder nearly touched the ground. For the last 10 minutes she’d been sinking lower and lower, and I watched in dismay as my wife had to use both hands and grasped between her legs with such fury that she was now pressing her shoulder, neck, and the side of her face into the ground, her ass in the air with her hands pressing the soft flesh of her overworked vagina through the light material of the sweaty sari. She moaned again, as she had many times throughout the entire day. But this moan was different. There was no adrenaline behind it. It was a defeated moan. This was it – she finally could not keep the piss inside any longer. Her efforts had been incredible, but ultimately they would fall short against Raisha’s unbeatable iron bladder. Her bladder had reached complete and total emergency status. I waited with sadness for the river to burst out from the back of Karthi’s sari, where it would surely soak the entire floor in seconds. And I kept waiting. The flood would not come. Karthi was in the midst of her last stand against her body. Similar to Raisha earlier in the day, my wife was now muttering something so softly that I could scarcely make out the words. I got up and knelt down next to her, my warrior princess who had given her all for me, now laying in such a pitiful, unenviable position, and heard her – “I will hold it….for you. I will…..hold it for….you. I will hold it….for….you…” And on and on it went. Karthi’s feelings for me were so strong, her love so powerful, that even at this critical juncture, with nothing hanging between her and defeat, my wife would not quit. The floor in front of her was actually growing damp, but with sweat instead of piss, as my wife summoned reserves of strength for her holding muscles that I didn’t know anyone could possess. Then a bleating yell pierced the room. Something within Raisha had finally snapped. Before, her body had been shuddering and shaking. Now, it had begun to rumble. It was a deep rumble that grew and grew until she was almost flopping like a fish on the sofa. With a cry of anguish, Raisha sat up, her hands trembling as they clawed at her crotch underneath the sari. Her bladder was in total rebellion. Its maximum capacity had finally been reached. The proud woman snarled in defiance of her body, willing her overloaded bladder to continue its grueling hold, to withstand even this incomprehensible onslaught of pressure. Her thighs began moving rapidly in and out, and Raisha’s eyes widened in astonishment as her body continued to fail her. “Noooooo! I can hold it! I can! I will!” she wailed, refusing to submit. Her current position bringing her nothing but unflinching agony, Raisha stood and held herself tighter still. Her thighs were quaking involuntarily, every ounce of energy having been used. “Noooooo!” she cried out again, searching her entire perfect body for any shred of strength to force to her bladder’s holding muscles. And then came the admission that I didn’t think was possible – “I can’t hold it!” The words left Raisha’s lips almost tentatively, despite being a shout. Those words were intruders on Raisha’s lips. They did not belong, and saying something so completely unbecoming of herself had to feel wrong. And even with those words still hanging in the air, Raisha did not pee. Something deep inside her would not let the piss come out, no matter what it cost. “I can’t hold it!” she shouted again, voice beginning to go hoarse. Her legs crossed tightly again. Her sari remained dry. “Aaaagggghhhhh I CAN’T HOLD IT!” she called desperately, staring in the direction of Karthi and me but not really looking at us, her eyes unfocused and glazed, her energy sapped. Her gigantic bladder joined her thighs in quaking, but Raisha bent double and howled in pain as she clamped off the flow yet again. The two women remained like this for minutes on end, in one final stalemate, both still as statues, their muscles clenching with whatever remained of the dregs of their willpower. I put my hand on my wife’s shoulder, urging her silently not to crack now, not when she had come so far. Karthi began sobbing in pain from the wracking effort of the hold. It was about to be too much. With a calming breath, I readied myself for the inevitable as I rubbed my wife’s back. “You did good,” I whispered in her ear, trying to keep the overwhelming emotion I felt for just how strongly my wife had toiled on my behalf from seeping into my voice, “You did real good.” And then Raisha raised her head enough to stare the two of us down, clarity in her eyes once more. Her mouth was moving but was struggling to put a sentence together. Wearily, coasting on adrenaline, Raisha began to stutter, “I…...I will…..you…..hold…..bladder….perfect…..” A new wave of utter desperation ripped through her, and Raisha’s body almost pulsed from the effort to hold on, but then her eyes went wide as the radiating desperation in her core only continued to increase. She became maddeningly frantic, her face equal parts desperate and determined, her legs moving like an earthquake and her whole body following. No woman could contain such insurmountable pressure, no matter the depths she was willing to go to fight against it. With one final scream, Raisha erupted. Piss exploded from under her sari, drenching the immediate area in seconds. She was a bathtub tap on full blast. It was as if every fiber of her bladder control had detonated all at once, and now the piss was forced to rush out with as much speed and determination as she had used to keep her bladder shut for the last 26+ hours. Her face was wearing an expression of terror as she gazed upon her defeated, deflating bladder. The piss continued like a storm. The sari had become completely see thru, and Raisha’s piss was coating the floor so quickly and effectively that it was pouring over my pant legs as I knelt with Karthi, and it went into my wife’s knees, face, and shoulder as well, despite my best efforts to shield her. Raisha couldn’t bear to look at us, as the piss streamed out of her unabated. Her control was totally, helplessly lost. The fire in her eyes was extinguished. She now had nothing but somber defeat. It took over 5 minutes of ridiculous, full-scale blasting before Raisha’s piss slowed to anything resembling a normal stream, and another 3 minutes before that too ran dry. The whole time, Karthi’s control hung by the slimmest of margins, but she could not let her victory be soured with an unintended piss. Not now. Not after having come so far. When Raisha’s piss finally came to a halt, her bladder now mercifully empty for the first time in over a day, she had no more grand speeches to give. With her head down, Raisha spared us one final look, and then she stumbled hastily to our front door and out of our house. As gently as I could, I pulled my bursting maiden to her feet, and gave Karthi a hug and kiss that she richly deserved. “Dear…..I must….” she managed to get out, and I pulled her close and told her, “I know. You did so well. You deserve the piss of a lifetime.” We walked together to the bathroom, Karthi with shaking steps, keeping one hand firmly planted on her crotch at all times. I helped Karthi out of her sari, and she sat nude on the toilet with me standing in front of her, admiring her in all her glory. Her bladder bulging as large as a soccer ball, her skin stretched to its maximum, her thighs trembling, but she had held out. As she sat on the toilet, I waited for a burst of piss, but it did not come. I looked down at her, and she looked back up at me, having to grit her teeth from the strain of still holding onto her enormous load of pent up, frothing piss, and she asked me, “Do I have the strongest and biggest bladder of any woman that you know?” I nearly laughed with relief from the question, and while kneeling down to kiss my wife once more, I told her, “Yes, you have the strongest, the biggest, and the most PERFECT bladder of any woman I’ve ever known.” We kissed again, Karthi smiling brightly despite the overwhelming pain coming from her bladder, and then for the first time since noon the day before, she let her bladder’s holding muscles release, and we continued kissing as her deluge of piss poured into the bowl. Her pee hit the water in the bowl with such sound and clarity that I couldn’t hear myself think. She had held it all for me, just as she had promised to do. As with Raisha’s, my dear Karthi’s stream continued to blast out of her for over 8 minutes, but our kiss lasted far past the point that she finally ran dry.
    7 points
  4. Such a thing would be horribly inexcusable and is heavily frowned on upon here. So frowned upon in fact that if I have reason to believe a user did such a thing I will ban them. There is no tolerance for non-consent on this site.
    6 points
  5. Today, I broke in my new pair of leggings 😀 I love peeing in leggings and sweatpants. The tightness keeps the pee right against my skin while the the softness absorbs the warm pee. What is your favorite things to wet in?
    5 points
  6. View File Wetting getting my mail We walked down to my mailbox to get my mail, I already had to pee so bad. When we got there I had forgot the key and I was so desperate I just went right there in my shorts and panties, there were people all around us and walked by us right after I wet my pants! My legs were soaked and it was so warm! Submitter melikai Submitted 12/04/2021 Category Female  
    5 points
  7. I I recently found out I can hold about 2.65 liters before I get nervous and the pain makes me scared to keep holding. I held 3 times recently where I felt a little pain in my back (2 by mistake one was almost a full blown accident). Could I train to hold more or am I honestly just at my max where I can safely hold? I don't usually hold very long if it's painful and go right away if I feel it any back soreness. I know 2.65 liters is a lot. I don't think I could hold a gallon safely but the idea excites me.
    5 points
  8. Chapter 225 Megan As the door slams closed I let out a breath that I hadn’t even realised I was holding. I’m still in shock at everything about her and what she’s said as I look at Liam and see his face is chalk white, his eyes are glazed and closing and his legs are sinking. Suddenly he falls to the ground, crumbling like a concrete tower block when it’s had explosives under it. The thump reverberates right through the house as I worry he’s concussed himself or injured himself somehow. I sit Yasmin down immediately on the floor and roll him into the recovery position checking he’s breathing and that he hasn’t swallowed his tongue. Loosening his clothing I gently call his name until he finally responds. Reassuring him that he’s ok I instruct him not to get up while I run and get him a cold glass of water. Returning back I’m so relieved to see him sitting up again and sipping at the water even if he seems initially a little confused and pale. I’m so touched that the first person he asks about is Yasmin. It’s a testament to how caring and attentive he is that my baby sister is his first thought after being unconscious. I don’t think he has any idea how much I love him and how concerned I am about him right now. Having now met Lauren so much of what Liam tells me makes sense as I listen intently as he confesses in detail about the years of abuse and torment he suffered at her hands and those of her family. As Yasmin crawls around his legs and happily plays with the laces of his trainers I listen intently to everything, my heart breaking and tears rolling down my cheeks freely. How could anyone treat another person like that? What sort of evil person lies about a pregnancy and abuses someone they claim to want to marry? Then to add to that by threatening them the day after their beloved aunt’s funeral? I shake my head silently as I sit right beside the man who has my whole heart and life, desperately wanting to make everything better for Liam but powerless to change the past. All I can do is hold him as I wrap my arms around him as we sit on the floor both crying, both still in shock at the events of the last half hour. I pull out of Liam’s arms suddenly as I hear Yasmin making an unusual sound. Immediately pulling Liam’s shoelaces out of her mouth I pick her up in shock. “Don’t do that Yasmin! You can’t eat them! They’re dirty! I think I’d better go get her something to eat Liam. Do you think you can stand up? Here let me put Yasmin down and I’ll help you onto the sofa. Just sit there and I’ll bring you in some lunch into here ok? Yasmin shhhh I’ll get you lunch in a minute honey.” I help Liam onto the couch, slipping off his trainers and pulling his feet up onto the couch, then picking up Yasmin, who is now crying. “I’ll be right back in a minute ok. Just lie there Liam. Don’t get up, ok?” He nods as he rests his head on the arm of the couch and closes his eyes. I only hope he doesn’t roll off or anything as I dearly wish I had a high chair to put Yasmin in like at home. Instead I have to hold her while I open a tin of tomato soup and heat it in the microwave for Liam and Yasmin. Trying to butter bread is so hard while Yasmin squirms and cries in my arms as I look everywhere for a tray to carry it through to Liam. I can’t find one anywhere so I carry the buttered bread into the dining room followed by the soup, very carefully as I have Yasmin in my arms too. I hand Yasmin a rich tea biscuit and place her on the floor while I wake Liam again and hope he’s steady enough to be able to come through to the dining room. He wakes easily and with support he comes through and sits down in front of his soup. I pick my baby sister up and get her smaller plate of soup and carry it through from the kitchen and then sit next to Liam to make sure he doesn’t fall, with Yasmin on my knee as I exchange her biscuit for bread and blow on the soup before giving her some. Once Yasmin has had enough soup and I’m satisfied Liam has a bit more colour in his cheeks too I wipe Yasmin’s face and fetch some iced water for Liam and some warm milk for Yasmin. Picking up Yasmin again and sitting her on my knee I place my hand on Liams thigh. “It’s going to be ok Liam. Whatever happens I’m not leaving you. And you are most definitely not paying that bitch a penny ok!” “But what about my baby? I can’t abandon my baby Megan. I’m not like my mum.” “You are not like your mum, or your dad Liam. There’s almost 6 months before the baby will be here. Let’s take a day at a time right now ok. Are you finished your soup? Was it ok?” “Yes. It was lovely thank you.” “Do you feel strong enough to hold Yasmin a minute while I get myself a drink? I’ll be right back.” Liam puts his arms out as I carefully hand him the baby to hold while I get myself a cold drink. I might not have fainted like he did but I still need something to help me over the shock. I pour a large glass of fresh orange and drink most of it in the kitchen before turning to head back through to the dining room. Looking across the large wooden table I see the most precious amazing man holding my Down’s syndrome sister in his arms cradling her so gently and lovingly as she sucks contentedly on her bottle. As he looks down at her then over to me our eyes meet intensely as I smile across to him. As far as I am concerned he’s already a father in my eyes. A damn amazing and wonderful father too. “When she’s finished drinking that I think she’s ready for a nap. Would you like to lie with her for a bit? The last 48 hours have been very eventful and I think a nap would do us all good. The sorting can wait an hour or so.” I head over and kneel beside Liam and kiss his cheek, careful to not disturb Yasmin as her eyes are closing in Liam’s arms. “I love you Liam Jude. Nothing that’s happened today changes that ok?” He doesn’t say anything with his mouth but his eyes say all I need to hear. No Shaun Murphy or Lauren Bennet can come between us. No threats of social services, or being disowned from my family, or financial threats from an ex girlfriend, or even hearing of another woman carrying Liam’s child can tear apart our love. We need each other more now than ever. All three of us in desperate situations that somehow need to turn miraculously into something beautiful, even if I have no idea how right now. If only I was back in St Mary’s chapel praying my rosary and looking at the Christ on the cross. I close my eyes for a second and feel myself back there praying with every fibre in my being. Suddenly I understand why my dad always went to mass whenever mam got sick. He wasn’t running away, he was actually doing the only thing he knew to cope.
    4 points
  9. Yeah... I am the owner of HD wetting and producer behind most of the content. So, hopefully I am okay with msyelf sharing my own content 🙂 However, piracy can be a huge a problem and tremendously harmful to small, independent producers like myself. So, I really do appreciate that you took the time to say something when you saw something that was suspect.
    4 points
  10. I'm quite tired but I also had this idea I needed to draw. So here it is! Tara is having a very bad day.
    4 points
  11. 926 downloads

    I was taken by a man who has a desperation and wetting fetish. He has me bound to a chair to where I can't close my legs. Also I am very desperate to pee. I plead with him to let me go so I can pee but he does nothing but watch me. Eventually I cant hold it any longer and I wet myself. My cotton panties get so wet while pee drips off the chair and I'm left to sit in my own piss.
    Free
    4 points
  12. That is downright a criminal thing to do. I don't even understand how one could consider it.
    4 points
  13. Aside from the ethical issues of involving people unwittingly in your fetish, giving medical diuretics without need or knowledge, or a doctor’s supervision, is actually putting someone’s health at risk. You could actually be up on a manslaughter charge if it went wrong. Definitely one to keep to fiction and fantasy scenarios.
    4 points
  14. This video shows Alisha peeing in her jeans from a unique perspective. A small action camera on the floor looks up as Alisha stands over it and wets herself. Imagine Alisha standing over you as she pees in her pants. This video provides that perspective, thanks to a small action camera on the floor. Standing over the camera, Alisha pees in her jeans, giving us a unique perspective on the wetting.
    3 points
  15. I'm tapped out pissy pervs Keep your panties / drawes...????. Stay safe 😄
    3 points
  16. Trapped

    From the album: Here4theFun's Digital Art

    Tara has fucked up big time, there is only one way in and one way out and that glass door doesn't look very sturdy. Porr thing could even hold it in. Good luck Tara!
    3 points
  17. View File A Mystified Mess This was a custom clip. “I was thinking the video would be around 4-5 minutes in length. the idea i had was that some supernatural entity coming through the ouija board would cause you to stand there frozen in fear wetting your pants, then when the entity leaves and you notice that you've peed yourself. then get a shocked look on your face when you realise you've also made a mess in your pants. then if you could awkwardly walk to the bathroom and take off your clothes to clean up the mess in the shower.” What I thought was going to be a nice quiet evening with the spirits turned into my worst nightmare... Submitter melikai Submitted 12/04/2021 Category Female  
    3 points
  18. Please, does anybody have and can re-upload the clip of Paige Phillips Where she actually wets a little? I would be ever so grateful Thank you.
    3 points
  19. I think the answer is pretty simple. Your muscles (abs) and other tissues, being stretched, pressing on the front part of your bladder when you stand up. When you bent over they're more loose and relaxed, and give more room for the bladder. It kind of related to my observation that usually people with larger bladders have harder time straightening up being full while "peanut bladder" people often can stand normally without feeling any difference.
    3 points
  20. This is not even debatable. It's extremely unethical, illegal, and even suggesting or otherwise encouraging someone to do such a thing will be met with a permanent ban on this forum.
    3 points
  21. That's lterally a felony where I live It's also horribly unethical Also, unless you know what other medications that person takes, that could literally kill somebody if the diuretic has a negative interaction with any medication they take - and that's also a felony in this state I would also reiterate that it's a really bad thing to do
    3 points
  22. An update of your drawing. 😎
    3 points
  23. I have been wanting to do a sneaky wetting in public for a while, but I am NOT interested in being seen or noticed at all, so I’ve always chickened out. Today I decided to just go for it! I was going for a run, and I know from experience that my leggings hardly show any wetness. I’ve never wet in them before, but I’ve been plenty sweaty in them, and they’re basically sweat camouflage. 😄 I even did a tiny dribble before I went out, both to reassure myself that it wouldn’t show, and to put myself in the right mood, so to speak. 😈 It was a new experience to start a run with wet fabric touching my delicate areas! Very naughty. The run itself was uneventful, but on my cool-down walk I tried to let some out. Turns out I can’t actually pee while moving, so I stopped to “stretch”. While leaning on a lamppost, I was able to relax my muscles enough to let it flow. And WHAT. A. RUSH!!! I actually spurted a bit more forcefully than I had intended and had a moment of panic when I couldn’t immediately pinch off the flow! It kept going for a couple of seconds longer than I planned. I was only going for a sneaky wet spot right at my crotch — a little tiny leak — but instead I could feel the wetness run about a third of the way down both thighs. 🙀 I didn’t dare look down! There was nobody nearby, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself, in case it was very visible. While I was approaching my door, my neighbor waved at me from around 50 feet away, and I made like the Madagascar penguins, “just smile and wave!”, acutely aware of the wetness between my legs that I was hoping was not too visible. Heart hammering, I made it inside and was relieved to find that it was almost impossible to spot the wetness, thank God! I could barely see it myself, knowing exactly where the outline was, so it would have been impossible for anyone else to see. Holy crap, what an amazing feeling, though! I wet my pants in public (a little, at least), and got away with it! 💛 I think I’ll probably want to do that again…
    3 points
  24. Hey everyone! I’ve written on here a number of times before but have never tried my hand at an interactive story so I thought I would try it out. At the end of each part I’ll give a list of choices and then the one with the most votes will be incorporated in. If there’s a tie I’ll use a random number generator to break it. After a character finds relief (either by wetting themselves or making it to a bathroom) I’ll give the option of ending and moving to a new character or continuing the story for a chance at punishments and/or multiple wettings. So let’s get started! First choice: Who should we follow? A. Jessica, a popular 21 year old college student with a very full day ahead of her, including dance practice and an evening exam B. Casey, an ambitious 27 year old business woman trying to prove herself at a new and highly demanding company C. Bailey, a socially awkward 19 year old college freshman whose bladder control worsens when she’s anxious
    2 points
  25. Latchkey Wetting

    Hey guys, So I don't post here often, but I thought that today would be a good time to do so, as I sit here typing in wet jeans. Some background: the place I've recently moved to has two flights of stairs, and two bathrooms. I live at the bottom of those two flights of stairs, whilst one bathroom is through the kitchen (first floor) and the other right at the top of the stairs (ground floor). When I get back, I tend to be carrying a lot of stuff, so I want to drop by my room before I go to the bathroom, so that's two flights down and two flights up. Now, I have a pretty strong bladder, so this isn't regularly a problem for me. The real problem is that this isn't just anywhere; this is my home, so I've been experiencing the fun psychological factor of latchkey wettings. It doesn't matter how much I need to pee, I will begin to feel the urge whenever I walk up my street, and by the time I get in, it's urgent that I make it to the loo right that second. The amount I have in my bladder is inconsequential- I will always need to go extremely badly. If I'm with someone else, that's fine, no problems. When I'm by myself? A separate issue. Tonight, I was playing in a concert, so I went out at about 3pm, and was in rehearsal until about 5. I had peed in the morning (maybe at around 11) but since then, I'd been out for lunch and drank half a jug of water, and my entire water bottle whilst playing. A friend wanted to walk to the Sainsbury's 10 minutes away, and we only had about 25 minutes so we really needed to hurry! I realised I needed to pee as we left the building, since she was really pushing the pace, and I was suddenly a little concerned that I might leak if I did that. I was walking a little funny, as you do when you need to pee, and the sharp jolting of my footsteps as we headed downhill didn't help, but I'd mostly forgotten about the urge by the time we got there. I bought a 500 ml bottle of coke, and we hurried back up the hill. Fortunately, we made it back with enough time to pop to the loo before we needed to be in position for the concert. Now, my concert started at about half 7, and we'd been sitting there about 2 hours for extra rehearsal already (long story, we had new music to perform for the evening, so panic practicing it was!). There was an interval at about 9, and a lot of the other players nipped to the loo then, but I stayed where I was and chatted with some of the others. This whole time, I was also drinking the coke and my refilled water. I had a fantastic time (looking forwards to going again tomorrow!) and we finished at about 10. We faffed around for a while, chatting and packing up our stuff, and I walked back with a new friend, leaving them at the bottom of my street as we headed our separate ways. So remember where I mentioned those latchkey wettings? Well, as I walked up my street, I realised that I kind of needed to pee. Pretty sure it was mostly psychological (5 hours is barely anything if I'm out and about; I tend to need to go by about the 10 hour mark), so I decided I was just going to go put my stuff in my room, then go to the bathroom. No problems. Well, I put my key in the first door, and I realised that might be a bad plan. We have three doors, and by the time I got to the third door, I was seriously debating unzipping my jeans so I could just rush over to the loo, but I was concerned that my flatmates would be on the other side, and that would be an awkward explanation! Instead, I pushed open the door still fully clothed and zipped, and saw the bathroom, nice and empty in front of me. I was dancing from foot to foot, struggling to get my saxophone off my back, and it took what felt like forever to put it down at the side of the landing. I walked a step forwards, intending to take off my coat and bag and leave them by the bathroom door, but suddenly I realised that I was leaking. My crotch was definitely wet, and I looked at the four steps down towards my bathroom, and knew that I wouldn't make it. I struggled for a moment, clenching my muscles as hard as I could, but it was too late. I started wetting myself, right there on the landing, outside two flatmate's doors and in the entrance for all six of us. It felt lovely and warm, but I really didn't want to wet- my coat is dryclean only, and I need to wear these jeans again tomorrow. That didn't matter. I was peeing, so I hurriedly ran down the stairs, praying that I wasn't leaving a trail behind, and closed the door, standing still on the hard floor of the toilet as pee gushed out of me and down my trouser legs. It started spattering my boots, so I quickly pulled them off, praying that the inside hadn't gotten wet, and just let it happen. When I was empty, I realised where I was, so I quickly took off my long coat and used some toilet paper to clean up, hoping it would all dry before anyone else noticed any suspicious wet spots. I turned around to leave, and suddenly realised that I'd left the door unlatched in my panic, and realised I was pretty lucky that no one else had walked in. Instead, I poked my head out, carrying my boots, bags and coat, and rushed down to my room, hoping no one would see my wet jeans. I thought I'd be fine as long as I kept quiet (because I had a pretty similar thing happen a couple days back too, only I was walking past the kitchen and onto the second set of stairs when I started wetting). Indeed, I made it to my room, scot-free but pretty soaked, and took a couple photos of the aftermath. If I had planned, I would have filmed the whole thing, but I really still need to wear these tomorrow, so going to have to do some late night washing! I hope you like the pictures and my story 🙂 PXL_20211202_230822032~2.mp4
    2 points
  26. View File Custom Restrain Humiliate Wetting I was taken by a man who has a desperation and wetting fetish. He has me bound to a chair to where I can't close my legs. Also I am very desperate to pee. I plead with him to let me go so I can pee but he does nothing but watch me. Eventually I cant hold it any longer and I wet myself. My cotton panties get so wet while pee drips off the chair and I'm left to sit in my own piss. Submitter melikai Submitted 12/04/2021 Category Female  
    2 points
  27. I was hoping to ask if anyone's seen any more of this JAV model. She's by far my favorite one, she just looks so cute and genuinely desperate. I remember seeing her in one JAV where she was waiting in line to use the toilet (though I forgot the name of that one) but does anyone know from where else? cute full bladder changing.mp4
    2 points
  28. 1,600 downloads

    It's a beautiful day outside, so Ella decides to take a walk. Strolling through the green, lush pathway right in front of a row of houses, she slowly makes her way farther down the walkway as she takes in the warm, pretty day. Suddenly, her leisurely stroll is interrupted - Ella starts wetting her shorts! The dark stain of pee soaks through the crotch of her pants, then steadily streaming down her leg into a puddle on the concrete. She's immediately humiliated, hiding her face in her hands and rushing to get home before anyone sees her pee-soaked shorts. She bursts through the door of her home, immediately lamenting over her condition. Her nighttime accidents were embarrassing enough, but now she's wetting during the day? Luckily she has nighttime diapers to keep her pants dry for now, but they're so thick that they will definitely be noticeable underneath all of her clothing. Resigned to her unfortunate circumstances, she gets to work wiping the pee from her skin, then fluffing a diaper to wear for protection. Taping it around herself, she sighs in defeat at the realization that her incontinence will be a bigger issue from now on.
    Free
    2 points
  29. When someone chooses to participate in a wetting video, and appear on camera, they are taking a risk. Regardless of where they first post it or upload it to, the video could end up getting pirated and showing up anywhere. When someone appears in such a video, they are risking having their friends, family, and coworkers see it. Also, at least in the United States, if the intent behind the video is to arouse or be sexually stimulating in anyway, the video is legally considered a recording of an adult performance. This mandates certain legal requirements for the performers and producers in such videos, regardless if the video is being monetized or not. Many people who just want to make videos will ignore those legal requirements, but that also becomes a significant risk. Considering the risks involved, that the videos may be online forever and could follow a person for the rest of their life, and the legal requirements for uploading such a video, I do feel that it is perfectly fair that those who are brave enough to appear in such videos be compensated in some way. And, asking the very people who enjoy the videos to be the ones to pay for that performer compensation, well, that just seems right. The other thing to consider is that video producers who are paid for their work can put money back into their videos. This means you can get things in pay videos that might not be present in stuff that is uploaded for free. Some of these things can include better technical quality, with better lighting, audio, and camera work. You can also get things like multiple models appearing together in a scene. It seems like a lot of truly amateur stuff is a locked down camera, dimly lit, bad audio, of a single girl standing in her bathtub, face framed out of shot, who just stand there and wets herself. If you want more than that in your videos, one good way to start to find it is to consider paying for content.
    2 points
  30. Update. I've bought the other videos in the Omuyuri series and am working on getting them uploaded now.
    2 points
  31. i draw a picture of her hope you like it
    2 points
  32. I got a measuring cup specifically for pee now 😄 Turns out the drive through cups I was using are 850 ml filled so at my max I've been holding 2.55 liters.
    2 points
  33. That's an amazing capacity. My very best was about 2.2 liters but it was years ago, I don't think I could break over 2 liters now. 2.65 is the largest bladder I've heard of probably. Very exciting to hear!
    2 points
  34. I have 3 separate attires.... construction work 5 days a week(car-hearts), my public attire( batiks, hippie/goth and artful) and my home cloths which i have most of, crossdressed tight jeans, dresses, skirts etc..... everything I own clothing wise has at least a lil leak... gotta own it it right????
    2 points
  35. Oh my god! I've never seen any of these and there are beautiful pullup videos and bedwetting! WOW! now I've got a mission!
    2 points
  36. hiiiiii everyone!!! 18 f little/abdl/omo new to the site but not the kinks lol feel free to leave a comment. let’s be friends!! 🥺💞
    2 points
  37. It's part of the recent "Omuyuri" (おむゆり) series from Sanwa. Sanwa stuff is harrrrrd to find on tube sites so even if it weren't fairly new, it's not surprising that they wouldn't be on there. But I really would like to see this series. Here's a photo from #3 (which also gives a clue as to just how new these are). And here are all the links I could find to their preview videos. https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-101-01_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-101-02_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-089-02_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-089-01_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-076-01_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-076-02_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-104-01_cm.mp4 https://www.sanwa-pub.com/movie03/dl_movie/MP4-810-104-02_cm.mp4
    2 points
  38. Artist: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/bibarelrei/
    2 points
  39. Chapter 224 Liam Just seeing Lauren again brings everything back as I feel intimidated, remorseful and embarrassed all at once. She’s every bit how I recall her being: commanding, attractive and very much in control! I know better than to argue with her, having tried too often in the past and faced the consequences. Her vile hatred and vitriol fills the room with such anger that I bow my head and refuse to even look at her. She doesn’t deserve eye contact, in fact she doesn’t even deserve to be listened to. The more she spouts her abhorrent abuse the more I feel my anger rising though and when she starts aiming it at Megan I have to say something. Why did she even have to bring Megan and Yasmin into this? Her issue is with me not them! I guess she’ll not be dropping the police case now, though I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I should play her at her own game and claim I had a breakdown and therefore wasn’t responsible for my actions? Maybe I could even claim her abuse drove me to do it too? Fuck! This seriously can’t be true! She can’t be? Oh my God! I glance at the scan in disbelief and then immediately to Megan. I can’t even bare to look at Lauren, not just because I abhor her so much right now but because her eyes draw me, her body lures me and I can’t ever give her that power over me again. I’ve escaped that once and I promised myself never ever to go there again. But this…this changes things. What the fucking hell am I meant to do now? Is it even true? Would Lauren be so low, so spiteful to show me someone else’s baby scan to control me and bribe me? Why the fuck would anyone do that? Surely she’ll start to show soon? Even she wouldn’t be that foolish surely? It’s not the first she’s lied though? Oh God I can hardly breath! The room keeps moving. My feet are slipping on the carpet. Megan’s voice is getting fainter and fainter. Blackness and silence cover me as I come to to Megan kneeling over me stroking my forehead and saying my name. Was it just a bad dream? I am in bed safe? As my eyes refocus, and I sit up slowly, I look around at the familiar living room as the realisation hits me all over again: Lauren Bennet is pregnant…with my child. A tear runs down my face silently as I feel Megan’s hand gently wipe it away. “It’s okay honey. You’re ok.” But I’m anything but ok! My life is a fucking mess all over again! I can’t even run back to my aunt for safety because she’s gone too. No wonder my own mum abandoned me! Megan doesn’t deserve me. Why should she stick with me now when another woman is having my baby? She doesn’t deserve that. I love her too much to put her through something like that. “Stay sitting down Liam. Wait and I’ll get you a glass of water. You went down with some bang. You gave Yasmin and me such a fright!” I can see Yasmin sitting on the floor looking at me but I can’t see Megan anywhere while I rub my eyes and then use my arms to steady myself on the living room floor. Megan comes back with a glass of cold water and I sip at it carefully, my hands shaking and my head throbbing. “Has…has she left?” “Yes. You’re safe now Liam. You fainted but you are ok now. Have you hurt yourself anywhere?” “I…I don’t think so. But…the baby?” “Yasmin is fine. She was in my arms the whole time. She’s safe and well. It’s you I’m worried about Liam. God that Lauren is quite something. I actually can’t find the words to actually say what I think. How long were you with her?” “I was 20 the day we first kissed. That was 11 years ago.” “You were with her the whole 11 years?” “It was a very intense on and off relationship. She went abroad a lot. Sometimes for months on end and other times just for a random long weekend. I never knew when or where. She said it was none of my business. Then sometimes I was the ‘in thing’ and we went for meals, to the theatre, to parties and all that and I wasn’t allowed to leave her side, not even to go to the gents! I always had to be in the mood whenever she wanted it. I could never be tired or have a sore head or have a match to play in. In the end I had to stop playing for the team as they all got so pissed off at me never showing up for games because Lauren had something on that she wanted me to go to with her. She never told me when things were so I could never plan and if I protested we’d have a huge fall out and I’d come back to my aunts. Then she’d give me the silent treatment for months and then suddenly I’d come out of work one day and she’d be there again all dressed up in her sexy clothes with her long kegs flashing at me and her hair down just like she knew I loved and I’d be right back with her like a lost puppy. I knew it was stupid but I couldn’t resist her and she knew it! She’d be all over me and I’d feel amazing and then I’d wake up one morning and she’d be gone again, to God knows where. Things went on like that until I lost my job at the frozen food factory. The company went into liquidation and I had no football to fall back on and no qualifications from school and suddenly I had nothing. She found out through someone I worked with and things really changed after that. She told me she would sort things for me and I foolishly trusted her. She spoke to her parents and her dad offered me a job. Worse thing I ever did. I think I told you before how her mum did the accounts? To begin with I was paid in full and all was ok. I hated the job but I needed the money so I put up with it. Then my wages started being short. Ten pounds here and there and stuff until one week when I had no wage at all. When I mentioned to Lauren she laughed so much it scared me. She said I must have made some mistake. It must be my bank or something. She found the whole thing hilarious for some reason. Then she started shouting at me saying she’d heard rumours from staff that I was having an affair with her dad’s secretary. She started hitting me, throwing things at me and scratching me. Later on she apologised and said she was all hormonal and she was late with her period and thought maybe she was pregnant. Of course I got all excited then. I’ve always dreamt of being a dad. I had no idea that this was just playing right where she wanted me and suddenly she announced then and there that, of course, that was why she had attacked me…it was because she loved me and didn’t want to lose me because she was having my baby. I believed her and forgave her but the next morning when I was in her en-suite shaving I noticed something in the bin. Thinking it was the positive pregnancy test I picked it up. But it wasn’t what I thought it was. It was a used tampon. She wasn’t pregnant at all. That’s when I started to doubt her more. I wanted to question her and kept waiting for the right time but suddenly she had another business trip to go to and she disappeared for another month or so. On her return she never contacted me. It was when I went to see my friend training at the stadium that I saw her again flirting with the other players and loving their attention. She never expected me to be there and when she saw me she looked away. In the company of others I suddenly felt braver so I shouted over to her asking how the pregnancy was going. I knew she’d be furious but it felt good suddenly having power over her. But I lived to regret that as she put on these crocodile tears in front of everyone saying what a bastard I was and that it was my fault she’d lost the baby and she never wanted to see me again. She then text to apologise and asked to meet me down the river for a walk to talk. She turned up in one of her shirt skirts, her shaved long legs on show and her hair pleated in front of her all enticing and alluring. As soon as she kissed me I was putty in her arms again and she promised we’d try again for another child. I stupidly believed her Megan. I know it sounds terrible, but I did. Other than my aunt I had no-one else. For a while things were ok but I lost trust in her. I still wasn’t being paid and work life was horrendous. Her parents made my life a misery and one night I felt so down I just didn’t feel like making love to her. She got so angry and spiked my drink and beat me and raped me. Then she started going on about us getting married and made me order rings with what little savings I had. I was out of it on whatever she had put in my drink and once the rings were ordered she laid in the bed and then told me again that she was pregnant. I wanted to believe her but something told me it was another one of her lies. I couldn’t sleep, despite the drugs she’d spiked my drink with, and once I saw she was asleep that’s when I ran away. I didn’t think it was true Megan. You have to believe me. I didn’t actually believe she was having my child…”
    2 points
  40. Probably like 85 90 oz Yeah! Wow.. I went a tiny bit in the toilet
    2 points
  41. I am struggling to see it -- can anyone point out details to me?
    2 points
  42. This is by far the best kind of wetting imo. I love when they can't stop peeing and it's clear that they really had to go. PissQu33n's wetting videos are usually very long and loud, but I am not sure I can post those here. This one is pretty great. She starts peeing before she can even get her jeans on, and then wets herself for almost 2 minutes straight. 4454021.mp4
    2 points
  43. Sweet little Tina was polite to a fault, never wanting to appear a bad guest. So she just kept accepting one cup of coffee after another, even though she knew full well that this was leading to an utterly uncomfortable, even agonizing situation down under. But wait, it gets worse. Not only was she polite, mannered, and sweet as could be, but she was AGONIZINGLY shy, especially when it came to anything that might betray an immodest urge or function (at least in public. Behind closed doors was a different story). Therefore, the concept of ever possibly excusing herself to go relieve the overfilled lagoon sloshing around inside her was out of the question. Ten cups of coffee over three hours...how anyone could possibly have kept all that in is a miracle to behold. But this wasn't a miracle at all for little Tina, who for years had put up with engorged and excruciating bladder situations rather than face the possible embarrassment of admitting that she did, in fact, have to go tinkle sometimes like everybody else. Of course one reason she may have been willing to undergo this horrible and painful situation is that, over the years, she learned that the process of relieving her horribly engorged bladder was an utterly soothing experience that made her see stars, go numb with bliss, and collapse into a coma of total relaxation and pleasure that made the pain and suffering beforehand all TOTALLY worth it. Unfortunately, while her friend was late, she did come eventually, meaning that for about the last three or four cups she was desperately trying to act as though nothing was wrong even as her bladder had swollen to balloon size and the pain and suffering she was undergoing was now on a level she hadn't felt in years, if ever. Yet in spite of all the horrifying suffering down below, stoical little Tina kept her cool throughout what turned out to be the most uncomfortable and agonizing conversation of her life. The big plus for her is that, being a naturally shy and untalkative young girl, Tina had a reputation as a listener rather than a speaker, and didn't have to betray her total, complete need by the desperation in her voice. Nonetheless, she continually zoned out as her friend blabbed on about all the college gossip and silly going ons that she honestly couldn't have cared less about even if she weren't totally wrapped up in pain, suffering, and terror at the possibility of having an accident. It had been hour four since she felt the first tinge in her bladder, that Tina finally was able to bear it no more and awkwardly fumbled for an excuse to end this conversation quick. Her friend continued to blab on, but Tina had a plan. As a girl who spent her whole life both impossibly polite and painfully shy, Tina knew full well how to negotiate her way out of any awkward situation. She immediately picked up her phone, and exclaimed in a now squeaky and clearly uncomfortable voice that she was needed immediately back at the shop where she worked to help pay off her student loans. "I'm sorry", she told her friend, "but I'm needed right away." She quietly paid for all her drinks -- her ten cups of torture now all sloshing around in her overfull bladder which just wanted to die at this point -- and slipped out carrying only her purse. The poor little cutie ran for the first half mile or so of the walk back to her dorm, but after that the pain and agony in her bladder, and the increasing possibility of an accident made this no longer an option. And so she was made to endure the other half mile over a long period of total suffering, nearly tearing up several times, having to stop and regain her composure. On several occasions Tina found herself having to lean on walls, lamp posts or benches to keep from fainting on the ground, so great was her total pain and suffering. Sweat was dripping from every pore of her plump, luscious little body until even her deodorant couldn't mask the BO anymore. "Oh God why oh God why" she kept thinking over and over in her head. How could any bladder relief be worth this? the sad, scared suffering little cutie exclaimed quietly before finally spying the entrance to her dorm. She instantly rushed one final gallup which she swore was the most painful and uncomfortable experience of her life. By now it was five hours of desperation with ten cups of coffee inside of her, since it had taken a whole hour to walk that agonizing mile. Yet she wasn't home free yet. She fumbled desperately for her keys but nearly burst into tears to find they weren't in the usual part of her purse. "no no no it can't be" she said briefly tearing up before her horror, pain, fear of an accident, and exhaustion from carrying this unbelievably heavy load around inside her finally took hold of her brain. Tina's whole world slowly went black as she passed into total unconsciousness, her sweaty, exhausted yet utterly beautiful and luscious 19 year old body collapsing on the ground outside her dorm. It was half an hour later that her eyes opened back up. Tina sat up in a stupor, forgetting for a second or two where she was and what was going on, until she felt a sharp pierce in her lower abdomen that flew her back to the harsh, horrific turn this day had taken. Jumping up frantically as she narrowly avoided a leak, she immediately went back to her purse, now lying on the carpet which smelled of Tina's sweaty little body. "Thank you thank you thank you God" this normally shy girl nearly screamed with tears in her eyes, to find that yes, her keys were there in her purse all along, just a little misplaced. She quickly opened the door to her apartment, immediately ran with all her might to the bathroom, kicked down her panties, and didn't even bother to sit down before... "Oh...ohhhhh...oooooohhhhhhh....oh aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Oh sweet glorious mother in heaven oh what a feeling! Tina's sweaty, smelly, scrumptious adorable soft plump little body totally gave in, every tense, rigid, stressed muscle slowly relaxing, her mind instantly transported to the most idyllic and meditative place, her heart rate going way down, dopamine and endorphins firing off in her brain constantly telling her, oh yes, oh yes this is so so so so so worth it, oh oh oh oh this feels great ohhhhhh. Her bladder deflating, her abdomen now feeling as though the hand of God is massaging it into sheer bliss and pleasure. Stars dancing in her eyes, oh she never wanted this to end. Oh, she so so so wants to pee for the rest of her life. Her body shook and trembled as every single moment of her two and a half minute pee totally enraptured her, she probably moaned and sighed more than a hundred times before she finally finished. Meanwhile, all the coffee absolutely POURED out of her trembling little flower, it's ammonia odor filling the room as fast as it filled the toilet below her. Even on the other side of the dorm, people could hear what they figured was some sort of pipe leak, or even a ghost (after all those sighs and moans did sound a bit otherworldly). To this day, people still speak of this strange legend, not one of them realize it was nothing more than a luscious little brunette having the most amazing piss of her 19year old life! As her scrumptious release came to an end, her cute little flower now merely trickling rather than pouring out her salty nectar, she felt world begin to fade around her yet again. This time, though, it was not a faint caused by agony, but an overwhelming urge to fall into a deep, and utterly satisfying sleep, right then, right there. Her whole body soon plopped down on the toilet as she slowly faded off into dream land, totally spent, totally relaxed, totally exhausted. As those precious, pretty little eyes fluttered closed, her cute plump bottom slowly sank into the stinky lake below her. Totally worth every second, was her last waking thought for the next twelve hours.
    2 points
  44. Did my first diaper shoot today. The fit is a little messy, a held it WAY too long before deciding to use a diaper and was squirming! Please be nice, I know I’m chunky.
    1 point
  45. All the time! Public bathrooms are gross (at least the men's/boy's ones) so I just tend to avoid them when I can. Why go into a gross bathroom when I can instead enjoy a nice wetting? Plus, if I'm in area I'm unfamiliar with, like a park or something, finding a bathroom tends to be hassle that I'd rather just avoid by using my pants instead. Not wanting to bother with restrooms due to those reason is actually one of the main reasons I started just being an open wetter around my friends.
    1 point
  46. Only word for this is amazing.
    1 point
  47. 1,206 downloads

    Pov where you are made to wet your pants in class.
    Free
    1 point
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