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Showing content with the highest reputation on 03/16/2022 in all areas

  1. So this just happened yesterday and my heart is still racing over it oh my GOD. I swear reading other omo experiences online made me a little overconfident in my own holding abilities and today I've reaped the consequences of that hubris... BIG time! 😭😭 So first, to give a little backstory (scroll to the ---- to skip this): last year I got covid pretty bad and ended up spending a good amout of out-of-pocket savings on medical bills (yay, US healthcare system!!). Its paid off now, but the hole left in my savings account started bumming me out so I picked up a weekend job at a fast food restaurant (for copyright purposes, lets call it "DcMonalds"). Now, far from the easy breezy lil side hustle I had planned, this job has turned out to be an absolute personalized torture session every fucking weekend. Rude customers? You betcha! Shitty management? Hell yeah! Critically understaffed? Wow, three for three! I mean, dont get me wrong- Ive worked fast food before so I wasnt exactly blind to what I was getting myself into. I expected all that and I was willing to put up with it for the flexible hours and, well, money. But what I didnt predict was that the morning opening shift I was on only consists of TWO PEOPLE. One kitchen, one front/drive thru. Im the front person. And I mean, sure, in theory it works. Its a rural area and theres not a lot of customers, and the manager is there to help if needed. But IF I NEED TO PEE there is RARELY time to do that during a 5 hour shift. And I have a SMALL bladder. So I have to hold it until more people come in who can cover for me. Alternatively, I can drag the manager away from whatever shes doing to cover, but shes super bitchy, hates me, and acts annoyed whenever I do this. Plus if I go once then I ususally end up having to go again because the universe hates me. And Im very anxious and awkward as a person so yeah, all of that combined means I spend 10 hours of my weekend desperate and stressed out. So now THIS weekend I decided to try something that I thought might alleviate some of that stress. Now Im not quite brave enough to buy diapers, and also my pants fit kinda tight so id be nervous it showed. But I do have some of those maxi overnight period pads so I THOUGHT that maybe if I wore them, i would be less nervous about leaking since it would pick up a good amount of liquid. I didnt actually intend to USE them though- it was just a precaution to ease my nerves. And when I wore one on saturday, it did just that! I never actually leak at work, but there are close calls, and Saturday was no exception, but this time the close calls didnt leave me with cold sweats and a frantic heartbeat. ------- Now, enter yesterday. Yesterday, I fucked up. I knew like 30 minutes into the shift I was gonna HAVE to use the bathroom before I got any help- which meant asking the manager to cover me. Usually I dont have a huge issue with this, but it does make me nervous and paired with the added security of the maxi pad, I ended up chickening out a few times that I could have asked. No big deal though, because eventually around 9:30 it was actually pretty dead so I worked up some courage and went to the office again, only to see her on the phone. Shit. I felt a twinge of panic because waiting this long already made me like a 9/10. So I kinda loitered a bit but then there were a few customers. About 20 minutes later I was handing somone their food and getting a bit more nervous when my manager walked by- perfect! I turned to ask her, but she was faster, 'Hey I need to bring some stuff to (other location two towns over), think you guys'll be ok while I'm gone?' 'Well actually, before you go could you cover me while I use the restroom?'.....Is what I WISH i had said. Instead, my coworker said yeah, we'd be fine its a slow day, and my anxious buffon self smiled and nodded in agreement. So she left. FUCK! Now I was in full panic mode. I was on the verge of losing it and had no clue how long she'd be gone. It was a 20min drive to the other location so that was at least 40 min, and I'd be lucky to last 10. And although Ive never really tested a maxi pad, I damn well knew it wouldnt hold the fluid I was packing all in one go. And that, dear friends, is when I had my clever little idea. Of course it couldnt hold a bladder of pee! And definitely not ALL at ONCE! But after a little mental math, I gleefuly realized that another employee would be here in under an hour, and as long as I got a LITTLE relief, I could make that! So that is how I, a modern icarus if you will, decided to let out a number of small spurts over the course of that hour. I decided to do a spurt every 10 minutes so it would absorb fully and give the illusion of constant relief. I also figured that the pad would hold 6 spurts no problem (Fool!). So, confident and pleased with myself, I chose a quiet moment while no customers were in to let out the first one. I leaned casually against the counter and pretended to be focused on filling the sauces up, while really I was focused on controlling my urethra. And boy, for how much I had to go, it was HARD. My body did NOT want to start peeing right there in the open at work, which it generally a good instict to have but at the moment wasnt very helpful. I was trying to just relax and let it flow since that seemed the easiest sort of stream to cut off. But it became clear I needed to push a bit. So I steeled myself, discreetly spread my legs a little, and did just that. A warm little gush of pee came out and I immediatly cut it off. Success! I was so proud! But the pride fell away quickly because somehow that just made my desperation worse, and worse it felt wet against my pussy. I knew it would be absorbed in a second but somehow that wetness just increased my need even more! After 5 minutes, however, I felt dry and desparate enough to try another spurt, throwing the 10 minute plan out the window. I was moving around and taking orders and jostling my bladder, and I just knew if the floodgates burst on their own schedule then there'd be no cutting it off. So while I waited for the kitchen guy to finish the drive thru order, I squatted down to and acted like I was opening a case of napkins to restock. Squatting put a lot of pressure on my bladder, and it was easier to do this time. I let some out, cut it off, and stood back up. No dice. Still crazy desparate. I bagged the order and handed it out, briefly contemplated an acting career based on how calm I could be on the outside, then went to take some orders up front. We ended up having a mini rush then (ok like maybe 8 customers but thats a lot for just us) and all the standing still while they ordered was KILLING ME. I couldnt be doing a potty dance right in front of these people! I was squeezing my toes in and flexing my calves to stop from showing. Finally I got so scared of losing it I did something crazy (well,crazy for me). While an old man and his wife deliberated over sausage or bacon, I relaxed my legs and tried to feel as calm as my expression hopefully was. And I let out a BIG splash of pee! My heart skipped a beat, and my whole kit and caboodle tingled and trembled as I stopped the flow. But still, even after that, everything still felt secure. Wet, but not WET, y'know? Eventually the orders all cleares up and I managed to run back to 'refill the ice machine'... and to check for leaks where no one could see me. I quickly felt my crotch and bum but despite how full the pad felt I seemed to be in the clear! I only had 15 min until help arrived now, so I decided not to risk any more than that. I was still VERY desperate but having so little time left kept me calm. Then I dropped the ice scoop. Oh... that fucking ice scoop! It went under the wire shelf so I squatted right down without thinking, and the motion of squatting and reaching under something caused me to let go of my bladder, and I started PEEING full force! I immediately jumped up and froze. The shock of it caused me to stop the flow instinctively, but I could feel the heavyiness of the pad, and the distinctive warmth blooming across the fabric on my ass. NO. NO NO NO. My heart was going fucking APESHIT at this point, like a washing machine with an unbalaced load. I just sort of stood there trembling in horror for a second. Then I came back to my senses, and my senses were telling be that I, first of all, had breached the pad for sure, and SECOND of all, I had such a desperate urge to let the rest out that it HURT. I took a breath and brushed a shaky hand over my lower bum. Definitely damp, but they were black pants so maybe it didnt show too badly? Only 15 minutes and honestly whos looking there that closely? I thought hey, maybe its all right maybe I can pull this off, but I was gambling at the reapers feet now. I could feel wave after wave of desperation and I was standing rooted in place as I fought each one. This whole time maybe 5 minutes had passed and there hadnt been a drive thru order (thank god for rural sunday traffic) but I needed to be at the front of the store in case a customer came inside. Oh, but moving seemed impossible. For a second I considered dropping my pants and just peeing in the drain by the mop buckets but the fear of getting caught was too much. God I wish I had though! I started walking gingerly but then pee started just... trickling out. I gasped out loud and tightened my muscles, but I was losing control and instinctively jammed my hands into my crotch. Big. Mistake. I threw my hands full force to my pussy to stop that flow. And all that pee in the pad? Well, it was squeezed out. Big ole gush into the bum of my pants. I let out some kinda hiccup noise and pulled my hands away, dipping and everything, but I still couldnt stop the flow and I just sort of gave up out of shock. I bent my legs and hunched over a little bit as I peed, warmth going all down my legs and in my shoes. It splattered on the floor. Most of it was going down the back of my legs, but I could see a small dark patch blossom around my crotch and thighs letting me know, oh christ, that my jeans definitely werent black enough to hide this. I started crying. I swear I am a grown ass woman but in that moment I felt all the shame, fear, and embarrasment as if I was a kid peeing their pants in gym class. Finally the stream cut off, and I just shakily wiped my hands on the dry part of my thighs and just... walked to the bathroom. Thank fuck there were no customers inside (The bathrooms are in the lobby), and the kitchen guy was setting up lunch stuff looking the other direction. I marched into a stall, then shakily told my coworker over the headset that Id be in the bathroom a for minute, could he take orders if they came? He was like, 'yeah fine'. Easy as that. Why hadnt I just asked him before???? Whats a minute in the bathroom- he can do one order! He can ask them to wait a minute!!! Why am I so stupid shy that I wont just be assertive and ask people????? I toweled myself down as best I could, and I was gonna try to use the hand dryers on my pants but then someone walked in. I looked through the stall cracks and saw that it was my coworker who was coming for the next shift. So I sheepishly asked if she could go to the back room and grab me a pair of new uniform pants from the back room real quick, which she did, fucking ANGEL that she is oh god. She even clocked in a few minutes early to cover for me. It was so humiliating though. She asked what happened so I told her and I gotta say, that whole experience was awful and I'm still really upset but god my coworker is the best. She got real pissed at the manager for even putting me in that position and proceeded to tell me about a bunch of different times she'd wet herself and how it wasnt a big deal, etc, etc. And by the end of my shift she'd sort of cheered me up. That woman is too good for this world 😭 So yeah, sorry if that all came out a bit ramble-y but I wanted to write it while it was still fresh in my head, and it was also pretty theraputic lol.
    8 points
  2. This is a narrative of me reading a true experience I had in my early twenties when I worked as a children’s party hostess in a very busy soft play centre. I have posted the story before but this is me reading it for those who might enjoy hearing my voice. New Recording.m4a
    8 points
  3. Hello Everyone, I'd like to tell you a story of something that happened to me this morning. A short pretext: I'm actually living in a shared house with some friends. I'm working remote and am lucky to beeing allowed to choose my place of residency. So these days I'm in this nice house with a room for myself (nice view from my desk and good, peaceful working conditions), a shared kitchen and a shared bathroom. Yesterday I had made dinner for all of us and we had quite some beer. I've been to bed quite late. The bathroom was occupied at this time so I had to wait and just lay down for a moment. The moment became the whole night, since I fell asleep quite immediately and still with all my pants on (it's cold up here, so I'm wearing my standard boxer-briefs under some long underwear and thick, warm joggers). I was ripped from my sleep by the alarm today. Knowing I had to attend some meetings today I had to get up in time. It was then I realised how very, VERY badly I needed to pee. I had only fifteen minutes to the first meeting, so I jumped out of bed and wanted to dart to the bathroom, when I heard someone enter it closing and locking the door. I was still in my room and my door was closed. Within seconds my desperation became dangerous. I felt quite well that I was absolutely not going to make it. I paced my room up and down, pondering my options. Every other step I had to stop and clench my legs together. My bladder was going to explode. And it was this kind of desperation you have after drinking beer. Honestly I'm impressed I didn't wet the bed. I was at a 9.999 of 10 and realised I would not be able to hold it. Again I was looking around for options, when I felt the first spurt escape into my pants. I quickly undressed the joggers (they're sooo comfy and warm and I wanted to wear them all day!), rumamged in the basked with clothes to be washed, found dark joggers and while frantically dancing on the spot and holding tried to put them on. Looking in the mirror I saw an already quite visible wet patch between my legs. It became larger by the second and I had to be quick. I managed to put on the dark pants, when even more spurts violently shoot into my pants, wetting my boxers and the long underwear. These long underwear-pants did soak up most of my pee, which kept the joggers quite dry. At least for the moment. I still tried to hold. I didn't want to have a full-blown accident in my room. I still have to think about a way to smuggle my wet pants into the washing anyway. But however as much as I tried to avoid it, I really couldn't help but slowly piss into my pants. I fetched some clothes, fresh boxer-briefs, a new pair of long underwear, a t-shirt and the comfy joggers I wanted to wear today and positioned me at my door, ready to dash to the bathroom as soon as I would hear it being free again. I wanted to check in the mirror whether there was anything to see on my pants, but I couldn't move without loosing control. So I just stood behind my closed door, pressing my legs together and trying to control my bladder muscles, with decreasing success. And then I heard the bathroom door unlocking. My heart was racing. No one here does know anything about my fetish and this should stay this way! And I really, really don't want anyone to see me in wet pants. If I would leave my room now and there was anyone else wanting to use the bathroom, maybe already lined up, I would have to stand and wait there, probably with anyone else around to see me. I couldn't perform my already lost pee dance. No, I had to be absolutely sure, that - a - I could enter the bathroom immediately and - b - there was noone around to see me. I heard the bathroom door opening. Someone came out and closed the door. My muscles spasmed and the biggest spurt yet escaped into my pants. My heart was beating really fast, half of anxiousness and half of excitement. It felt so unbelievably good when the pee left my body, soaking up my pants, feeling the wetness in my croth, between my legs, the warmth, the naughtyness. When I didn't hear anyone else approaching I dared to act. I held the new clothes in front of me as normal as possible, opened my door and entered the hallway. There was someone sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast. I said good morning as casually as possible, while yet another strong, long leak filled my pants with joy, and entered the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. As quickly as I could I undressed the black joggers. Their damage was in fact minimal, the long undearwear had taken up most of it. The view in the mirror was thrilling. Without further thinking I stepped into the shower, put the water on and violently shaking with joy, excitement and relieve I full force pissed into my pants. It was pure bliss and I just hope I didn't moan involuntarily. It took ages to empty my bladder. I can't remember when I peed that much the last time. Even when I thought it was finished, there came more. Enough for another full blown accident. I was so aroused that peeing felt like orgasming. I undressed in the shower, washed myself and rinsed the pants. Even then I had to pee more and just let it all go with the running water. Afterwards I smuggled the wet pants rolled up in the black joggers and put everything to the other clothes in the basket in my room. Now I only have to find a good moment to smuggle everything into the washing without anyone noticing. 😄 Now I'm sitting here, working. With this wonderful view and a very intense sensation between my legs. I feel like I want to pee myself the whole day. But I can't with everyone else around. What a start into the day. Yeah, I wanted to let you know. Now I have to concentrate on this concept again I'm working on. 😉 C PS: sorry for any typos.
    5 points
  4. Abebi's Story posted in my gallery album - enjoy.
    5 points
  5. So yea I ended up having an actual leak before the end... there was a spot about the size of a quarter on my pants. It was seriously amazing, tbh. I'm the kind of guy where it just feels better the longer I hold, so I made sure to push it this time. I had the rest of the soda after making my first post. I could barely focus on the movie at this point, just the thought of how I was going to just keep holding was sending me racing. The moment that I reached 10/10 was perfectly timed toward the very last 15 minutes, it couldn't have gone better. I remember it clearly - I got a strong bladder spasm, but no leaks. The quiver from it was intense and made me feel like I was actually going to have an accident if I kept holding (omg - such an epic feeling). I kept holding myself when it happened again - this time it felt way more intense and I could feel that something had finally escaped. Despite my grip, a jet of piss shot right into my tight briefs. I was able to use my muscles to clamp the flow, but I wasn't sure if it would happen again. Not wanting to wet the seat, I bolted to the bathroom right after the closing scene. I ended up having a ton more fun where I tried to stop the flow multiple times, ughhh the shivers from that were also amazing. Overall great experience, highly recommended since a movie will take your attention. Show up already having to go and literally just don't go to the bathroom. *Let me note that I had been practicing all day to get to that point, as it would have been nearly impossible otherwise.
    5 points
  6. 2FMHT210

    From the album: Fill-Me: Chapter 2

    They're finally there! The vacation has really begun! It's been over 2 years since Fill-Me started, and this is a [big] set. They finally made it to where I originally planned on starting the series... after about 50 months.
    4 points
  7. I wanted to share a story from last summer with you. It was a hot day, my girlfriend and me both took free for that week because we just wanted to chill a bit and enjoy the summer together. Because we (especially me) drank a lot to counter the heat I needed to pee. While I went inside to the toilet she got her phone and was scrolling a Lil bit through Instagram. After I came back she asked of we could go to McDonald's because there were a Special deal. I said that first we would need to clean our house. She refused and I did it alone while she chilled outside. I was done after only roundabout half a hour and went outside. She just said "if you would have gone to McDonald's with me I would have helped". I replied, saying that we would be on the way now if she would have helped me. After that she pouted, after a bit of silence she said "and what if i don't go to the toilet now? You know I didn't pee since lunch and drank much with you". She just knows that she is able to get me with such things, pay with your bladder things. I hestitaded but then asked how desperate she is now. She told me that it's a solid 7/10. I said I accept the offer, but only if she emptys her glass now. After short thinking she accepted and drank the rest. There you should know, the nearest McDonald's is about half an hour away and it's a turbulent street. Not the best street to be desperate, I need to admit. But damn I like it when she goes tipsy when she is really desperate so my horny side won in that situation. We were halfway there when she suddenly moaned and said that she would really like to pee now (As I mentioned, the street is in poor condition), but I reminded her that she can only use our toilet at home and shouldn't use the McDonald's loo. "I know baby" she replied "it doesn't even matter, firstly I hate public toilets in general and I need to pay my burger, right?" We laughed. Even now when she's desperate she is still in good mood. The rest of the drive I could see that she grabbed her croch but nothing more. I parked the car, she was doing a little potty dance while we were going towards the entrance. While ordering at those digital boards she whispered in my ear "I just reached 9/10, I'm not sure if I manage to get home... Could I maybe use the toilet?" I refused and said even if she leaks Noone will notice, also the car is old so it doesn't matter. She asked again in a teasing voice, you know that voice where you just want to play with the other person. So I replied that if we are home and she holds for another five minutes she gets her loved chocolate milkshake on top. Her eyes lightened up and she said "oh yes, please. 5 minutes? I'm not sure if I can manage but I will try" We submitted the order and after short waiting ours came. I checked the order because they often forget things at our McDonald's, but it looked right. We went outside and she said a bit louder "damn I'm so desperate, but this is so worth it. Thanksssss for getting us food". We got in the car and we started the drive back home. She was wiggling and grabbing herself all the time so I asked her if it's already the 10/10. She replied "nearly, damn I didn't need to piss that hard for a while, how long?" about 15 minutes, plus your 5 minutes, don't forget them. About the city before ours she gasped but immediately said "don't worry, I just guess my underwear isn't the driest anymore now. But I'm gonna make it, don't worry". I just smirked, she knows how horny that makes me. I pulled up into our driveway, she jumping out of the car just stating 10. Definetly 10! I unlocked the door and started the timer. She went in and took of her clothes and opening her jeans. "what, 1. It takes of a little bit of pressure, 2. Give me that few seconds so I can make it". I guess my face was enough for her temper to cook up a bit. She did a massive potty dance, now that we were home. Walking up and down, circles and lifting up her legs. "how long?" 2.30 minutes left "what?! It already felt like 10. Oh damn". Now it was my teasing time. I asked her how long she could hold it before she would flood our entire room. "shut up! Maybe 5...or less 😅". I checked the timer, 1 minute left. She was mad desperate. I even felt pitty for her. So I told her that there is only a minute left. "Huh. Shit. That's gonna be a close call. Huh." she stated while jumping from leg to leg, her hand deep in her croch. Then the time was over, I told her. She sprinted past me into the bathroom... Hitting the door. She got one step backwards before sprinting again towards the toilet. She wrestled down her pants and before she managed to sit down the pee started to shoot out. She sat there, moaning, for about a minute. Then she took of her pants and pantys and threw them at me. "jerk, get me new panties and then take the McDonald's stuff onto the table". I got into the bedroom, throwing her slightly wet, and sadly black panties and the damp jeans into the laundry. Then I got her new ones and geve then to her. While turning around for going out she said "if it wouldn't have been for that stupid door there would only have been a little spot, but no, I need to hit it. Close call, I was lucky that I only lost a little spurt" I told her that she still managed good and she now really deserves her menu. She came out happily and we started to eat. Hope you liked this story, it's my best omorashi experience 🙂
    4 points
  8. Woman puts on some jeans to wet them!
    4 points
  9. No... Letting that happen would be pretty unethical
    4 points
  10. 14.mp4 7.mp4 11.mp4 20.mp4
    4 points
  11. 4 points
  12. I love the idea of being a desperate passenger while the driver teases me/'accidentally' misses rest stops. Just having to hold and beg them for permission to be able to go, being made to squirm around and hold myself... Of course this is definitely more of a fantasy than anything else, but since I don't drive anyway I can't end up as a desperate driver!
    4 points
  13. I had been holding whilst writing stories for here but the stories ran on and after squirming, rubbing, wriggling and dancing I absolutely couldn’t hold anything more so I hobbled into the kitchen, crouched down and it poured out of me. I peed far longer than this but cut it short to make uploading easier. crouching always makes it come out uncontrollably! IMG_1703.MOV
    3 points
  14. This post is like gaining legal age, going to a bar and ordering: "One alcohol, please!"
    3 points
  15. Thank you. I’m so glad you enjoyed that aspect especially as it would be such a huge romantic turn on for me to experience it like that as the more desperate I get to pee the more turned on I get and I suspect Riley was feeling the exact same way. It was a big risk writing from the male perspective as a female so I’m glad it came over authentic and genuine.
    3 points
  16. Just a few drops. I did this on the first try but if I’d had to retake I’d definitely have burst!
    3 points
  17. "Call me a racehorse, because I'm hung and I need to piss like one right now."
    3 points
  18. 3 points
  19. Update. Since this day had started so wet I absolutely could not resist. This longing to just spread my legs and go was overwhelming. So, when the day went by and everyone was busy enough I silently changed into some old jeans that would have needed a wash anyways, while pretending to attend some online-meetings. And then I just pissed. I deliberately pissed a whole days worth of pee into my jeans and long underwear. Oh my god. Needless to say afterwards it took only some gentle strokes around this wet bulge to send my boner into waves and waves of ecstatic, massively cum ejecting spasms. And since I had to be quiet I only screamed silently while shivering and shakingly going to my knees. ❤️ As I said, it's cold up hear and I'm normally wearing these long underwear pants above my normal boxer-briefs. I LOVE how they soak up the wetness. This was a very special, wonderful, ecstatic wetting experience! ❤️
    3 points
  20. A long time ago I found a bed wetting mod. I wasn't perfectly happy with the way the mod worked, so I decided to change some features to make it work more the way I wanted. I've continued to make gradual changes over the years until it became something completely different from the original mod. I've been adding and changing stuff for so long I no longer remember everything it includes, but I will try to do a general summary of it. When a sim goes to sleep, there is a chance they will wet themselves. The chances of the sim wetting the bed increase with the number of times they have wet the bed and exponentially as their bladder need lowers. Younger sims have higher chances of wetting their bed than older sims. Although, elder sims go back to young adult chances. If a sim is asleep with a completely empty bladder, there is a chance their bed wetting counter goes down if they do not wet the bed. Sims can become protected from bed wetting by clicking on themselves and choosing the option "Safe Sleep" (They will need to pay a small fee). Toddlers' potty training has an impact on the sim's bladder control in later life stages. When fully potty trained, they have normal bladder control. When a sim ages up with a Potty Training level of 2, they will have an increased chance of wetting the bed, but each bed wetting is of less significance to the bed wetting deciding formula so it doesn't snowball out of control right off the bat. When a sim has a Potty Training level of 1 or 0, they lose the capacity of autonomously use the bathroom and also use the boosted bed wetting formula in later life stages. (They are not incapable of using the toilet, they just won't do it themselves regardless of how low their bladder need gets) Every sim is capable of wearing diapers by choosing to do so in a wardrobe. Sims can remove or change their diaper by choosing to do so in a wardrobe. Sims automatically change their dirty diapers when taking a shower or a bath. Other small details which are not big enough to mention but I think would be fun to discover on your own. Of course, I am open to new ideas to implement as long as it's within my abilities to do so and I have time to dedicate to it. The mod uses python scripts, so you would need to enable them within the game settings. All the files I used to make the mod are available inside the .ts4script file (It is essentially a zip file with script files inside) so you can browse them to check how it worked by yourself if you are the tinkerer type. I've been thinking of sharing this for a long time, but I haven't had the courage to do so. I hope at least one person enjoys it! Dango_Bedwetting.zip EDIT 01: I forgot to mention there are some convenience commands! You can use the commands by pressing ctrl + shift + c and typing the following: bedwetter_1 Targets the active sim. Makes sim use the boosted bed wetting formula. Equivalent to a sim having aged up with Potty Training level 2. bedwetter_1 <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Makes sim use the boosted bed wetting formula. Equivalent to a sim having aged up with Potty Training level 2. bedwetter_2 Targets the active sim. Makes sim unable to control their bladder. Equivalent to a sim having aged up with Potty Training level 1 or 0. bedwetter_2 <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Makes sim unable to control their bladder. Equivalent to a sim having aged up with Potty Training level 1 or 0. used_to_diapers Targets active sim. Makes sim used to wearing diapers. used_to_diapers <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Makes sim used to wearing diapers. non_bedwetter_1 Targets the active sim. Makes the sim use the traditional bed wetting formula if they had the bedwetter_1 trait (invisible). Does not remove the bedwetter_2 trait (invisible). non_bedwetter_1 <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Makes the sim use the traditional bed wetting formula if they had the bedwetter_1 trait (invisible). Does not remove the bedwetter_2 trait (invisible). non_bedwetter_2 Targets the active sim. Gives a sim back it's bladder control if they didn't have it. Does not remove the bedwetter_1 trait (invisible). non_bedwetter_2 <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Gives a sim back it's bladder control if they didn't have it. Does not remove the bedwetter_1 trait (invisible). not_used_to_diapers Targets active sim. Removes used to diapers trait (invisible). not_used_to_diapers <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Removes used to diapers trait (invisible). set_wetting Targets active sim. Resets a sim bed wetting counter back to 0. set_wetting <Number> Targets active sim. Sets sim's wetting counter to given number. set_wetting <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Resets a sim bed wetting counter back to 0. set_wetting <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> <Number> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Sets sim's wetting counter to given number. wetting_count Targets active sim. Responds with the current value of the bed wetting counter. wetting_count <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Responds with the current value of the bed wetting counter. check_diaper Targets active sim. Responds with the number of times the sim has used the current diaper (caps at 2). check_diaper <Sim_Name> <Sim_LastName> Targets sim with chosen name (unknown how it interacts with multiple sims with the same name). Responds with the number of times the sim has used the current diaper (caps at 2). As you may have noticed, sims can get used to wearing diapers. The feature can be unlocked during normal gameplay, but the mechanism for unlocking it will remain hidden unless someone asks me about it. As for what it does, when normal sims wear a diaper they become embarrassed and further so when they wet themselves while wearing a diaper. Sims who are used to wearing diapers do not suffer an embarrassment penalty for wearing a diaper and embarrassment buffs for wetting the diaper becomes lessened. There are other changes, but once again, I think it will be more fun if you find them yourselves.
    2 points
  21. this is a video of liz raw wetting herself while she is explaing how she likes to wet herself. its one of the hottest video i have seen in a while and i dont think it has been posted here before. (pls let me know if it has been posted). Project_01-17(2)_HD 720p_MEDIUM_FR30.mp4
    2 points
  22. A few months ago my girlfriend who has given me permission to tell this story had a pretty embarrassing accident. This was before she knew I was into this as well. We had to run out to go buy a bunch of shit because she was planning on staying with me for a while, we also got food cuz why not. It was night time and she was wearing a pretty simple pink and black t shirt with blue jeans and boots. We went out to Walmart(i know gross) after we ate and I eventually learned she had a huge aversion to using public toilets. We were only barely getting started shopping and she kinda whispered to me “Hey Kay i have to you know…piss”. Immediately my omo brain exploded but of course i told her to use the toilet and she replied “uh no lets just hurry”. My girlfriend is typically one of those strong tomboyish type so seeing her flustered was pretty adorable. We continued shopping without much of an issue, although her face was getting redder. Like 15 minutes later we were done with foody items and had to go across the store for the rest. On our way I noticed she would pause here and there, I once again asked if she’d use the bathroom and she got really embarrassed that I noticed but she did agree, so I went with her again across a big part of the store to the bathrooms, they were being cleaned. The cleaner said to just use the mens room but she refused so we resumed shopping. We got what we needed and got in line for the checkout, as we were moving I told her to try the restrooms again but she said no 😕. My omo brain was like “This is the best day ever” but my sympathetic brain was sad and I knew the feeling all too well. We were only behind one person in line now and there were a handful behind us, then I heard a small squeal that originally I didn’t know was from her so I basically ignored it until she grabbed my arm as I heard the splashing begin. She was having a total accident in the line. I’d never seen someone so full of panic in my entire life, I saw her jeans getting darker and start to glisten. I briefly looked at the lady behind her who looked shocked but had this deep face of sympathy. The cashier and guy in front of us noticed as well but neither of them cared and returned to their payment. She peed for a few moments before I just told her to go to the car and gave her the keys. She ran out of the store faster than I imagined. At this point I felt so bad that my omo brain shut down. I apologized to the cashier and she just looked at me before saying “honestly it happens more than you’d imagine”. I did offer to help clean up but i was told no. I finished paying as i looked back seeing people avoiding the clear puddle of piss on the floor. I went out to the car and put the groceries away before getting in, she had put down a plastic bag from the box that i keep in the back for my own wetting but I always told her they were for trash. I asked if she was okay but she told me to just drive. The 20 minute ride home was dead silent as she stared at the moon mostly. She helped me bring groceries in despite me telling her to just to in and shower. Once we got in with all our shit i put it away before she briefly came over and shakily asked if i still loved her which honestly hit me in the chest like a bullet because i had said those exact words before in a very similar situation. I naturally said yes and hugged her. Afterwards she softened up about it and we put groceries away(she was even still wearing her wet jeans). Afterwards we went in and took a shower together which I offered to help her feel better. Now here we are a few months later and shes open to my kink and even tries it herself sometimes. Sometimes God hears and answers prayers
    2 points
  23. I do! For fun and just because I can. Admit it....! 😃😄😁 20211010_130942_1.mp4
    2 points
  24. From the album: bustin2pee's artwork

    © bustin2pee

    2 points
  25. EE-436

    8,176 downloads

    DLEE-436 As requested here Enjoy
    Free
    2 points
  26. 28.mp4 Amateur Peeing And Wetting In Her Bikin.mp4 42.mp4 23.m4v Ketty wetting-2.mp4
    2 points
  27. 2 points
  28. it's EE-436 https://fboom.me/file/f32900f7eedeb/DLEE-436.rar and file password fqlz3zk1kk5MvD5G anyone please upload this
    2 points
  29. Join Ronica and Alisha in this intimate golden shower scene, where Alisha pees through her pink panties soaking both herself and Ronica in the process. This sexy scene features Ronica and Alisha together in bed as they thoroughly enjoy each other’s company. Alisha kisses all over Ronica’s body, then, when she is ready, straddles Ronica and pees on her. After Alisha pees, they are both left soaked. Laying next to each other on the wet bed they finger one another until they both climax.
    2 points
  30. I decided I was going to enjoy torturing Shawna’s bladder a bit. Sure, making her wet the bed and feel humiliated was fun, but there were far more interesting ways to mess with her. “Shawna. When I command you to, you will wake up, with no memory of wetting the bed just now. You will go downstairs, drink two glasses of water, then come back up to bed and fall fast asleep. For the next day, you will not know for sure whether or not your bladder is full. You might feel a twinge here or there, or you might feel a massive urge. Or you might feel nothing at all. Maybe you make it to the bathroom, maybe you wet your pants. Maybe you’ll desperately run to the toilet, only to find your bladder was empty all along. Now… Wake up. And obey.” Shawna stirred from her hypnotic slumber. “Hey babe. Sorry, I must have dozed off.” “No problem, hon.” “I’m kinda thirsty. You mind if I go get some water?” “Go right ahead.” As she got up to go to the kitchen, I decided it was time for a piss break of my own. Getting out of bed, I went into the bathroom and pulled out my cock. I smiled as I relieved myself, pleased that I was going to have a bit of fun with Shawna. And the best part was going to be after accident number five, when my control wore off and she remembered everything that had happened to her. I flushed and washed my hands, then returned to the bedroom. Shawn returned a short time later, getting back in bed, where she promptly passed out. I couldn’t wait to see how this played out… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling a strong urge to pee. I couldn’t believe my plan didn’t work, Kevin must have a super bladder or maybe magic doesn’t work on magical beings? But that was neither here nor there, because when a girl’s gotta pee, she’s gotta pee! I quickly got up, being careful not to wake Kevin, and went into the bathroom. When I sat down to go, however, I was surprised that only a light trickle came out. I’d had that feeling like, when you first wake up in the morning and you know you’ve gotta pee? Then again, with how screwed up my bladder was, I guess I was grateful it was just the minor annoyance of getting up when I didn’t really need to. I went back to bed and drifted back to sleep… “Hey, Shawna. Time to get up, babe.” “Huh?” I murmured, still in a sleepy fog. “It’s 6:30, Shawn. You’re gonna be late for work!” That got my attention! I darted from the bed to the bathroom and took a super-fast shower. My panties reeked of piss, no doubt a side-effect of Kevin’s stupid stone prank. Man, was I upset my revenge plot didn’t work! I wanted to see him piss himself! Oh well, no time to worry about that right now. I grabbed one of the spare outfits I kept at his place and got dressed, while he made me breakfast. French toast, scrambled eggs, sausage, coffee, orange juice and a green smoothie. I wolfed everything down and kissed him goodbye, before heading off to work. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shawna headed off to work, leaving me by myself. I had to admit, there was no way to know how well this suggestion would actually work, unless of course she told me. But I know she got up to pee in the middle of the night. So there was at least that. But I couldn’t wait until I had her home and could find out everything… That night, I went to her house for dinner. I chose her place because for accident number three, I wanted to make use of her art studio. But first, I had to know what had happened. “Blank.” Shawna’s eyes glazed over as we sat at the dinner table. “Shawna, I want you to tell me about each time you had to go to the bathroom today.” “When I woke up this morning, I didn’t have to pee at all. But on the drive in, I started peeing a bit and had to pull over to squat on the side of the road. Then I had to go to Walmart to buy clean underwear. While there, I had to pee again, so I ran to the bathroom, but nothing came out. When I got to work, I changed into the clean panties. About two hours into the day, my friend Abby told me my stomach looked really big, so I went to the bathroom and ended up peeing quite a bit. At lunch, I drank a soda and felt like I had to pee, but it was a minor urge. Unfortunately, I ended up wetting myself, but luckily it was in the copy room and nobody was there. I cleaned up in the restroom and went about my day. On the drive home, I felt like I was going to burst, but was stuck in traffic. I ended up sticking a coffee cup between my legs, but only peed a few drops in it.” “How do you feel right now?” “Fine.” “Good. When I snap my fingers, the last suggestion will wear off. If you have to pee, you will say so.” *SNAP* Shawna blinked. Then I saw her face change into a look I knew all to well. “Um… I have to pee.” “Blank!” Her eyes went dull again. “When I unblank you, you will walk to your art studio. Once there, you will stand in the middle of the room and await further instructions. Unblank.” Shawna stood up and made her way to the bathroom. I could tell her bladder was pretty full, by the way she walked. Her butt shook from the effort it took to hold it in while in motion. I was really looking forward to the next part. When we got to the studio, she stood in the middle of the room. “Freeze.” Shawna went completely motionless. “Frozen. Unable to move. Unable to think. I brought you to your studio, Shawna, because this is where you come to let your creative juices flow. But tonight, we’re going to make something else flow. I know you need to pee pretty badly.” I reached out and touched her bladder. When I did, her abdomen bulged out a bit. “I just filled your bladder a bit more. You are at capacity right now. You are going to wet yourself. Not yet, of course. I want to have some fun, first. I am going to cast a spell that will cause your body, including your bladder, to remain frozen for one hour. When that hour expires, you will wet yourself. It will happen, because your body won’t unfreeze until your bladder is empty. However, I am going to unfreeze your mind and your face. You will be able to see, think, hear, talk, feel… you will be in your own little hell, but it will be my heaven. And while you’ll be aware of what’s happening, while it’s happening, you will forget once the spell has worn off completely. Because I’m not done playing with you yet… Now, on the count of three, you will be awake, aware and able to speak. One. Two.” TO BE CONTINUED… (Yeah, I’m cruel, leaving it on a cliffhanger, but I need to go to bed lol I will work on the next part tomorrow after work 🙂 )
    2 points
  31. Can't wait for Krystyna's story!
    2 points
  32. From the album: bustin2pee's artwork

    © bustin2pee

    2 points
  33. I can’t even begin to list the number of times I wet myself while working at restaurants. Each one was traumatic in itself!! I really hope you’re okay!!
    2 points
  34. Does she like this?!

    Huh? But I thought putting pressure on the crotch is helpful for both sexes? Otherwise why would women put their hands on their crotch when desperate?
    2 points
  35. I experienced this once when pregnant with twins. It was my first scan and I had to drink 2 litres of water. I was so bursting waiting on the scan and then had to endure this cold jelly on my bladder and the scanner being pressed on it. I went for a long pee right after but on the drive home I was suddenly very very desperate again and terrified I’d burst before I got home!
    2 points
  36. I’ve been lurking on this site for many years now but I actually never made an account, but I guess now is the perfect time to. I am the person in this video and I uploaded it on Tumblr about a year ago but I deleted that page for personal reasons. I planned on returning to Tumblr but with the adult content ban I decided that it may be best for me to come here to restart my omo journey What sucks is that this person is uploading this video on a verified PH profile and trying to pass it off as their own— which I never approved of. A lot of my posts got thousands of likes/reblogs so I’m aware that I put it on the internet for everyone to see and I’m sure many people have downloaded the video for their own personal purposes, which is fine. I just hate that it’s being reuploaded and possibly profited off of without my consent. It’s okay tho, I already messaged PH support today to get it taken down. But for good news— I’ll be making more free content and posting on here very soon. I hope to make the same friendships and connections that I had on Tumblr.
    2 points
  37. I love the idea of being forced to wet myself. Like, trapped in my clothes with no way out and eventually getting so desperate that I have no other choice but to pee in my pants. It took me awhile to figure out how to accomplish this solo, but today I finally got to experience it. It didn't go quite as planned but it was still good. I hope you enjoy. The plan: I have a small padlock to secure my belt so that I cannot remove my pants without the key. I will be wearing tight jeans and the belt will be put on as tight as it will go. The key is in the bottom of a bottle of water that I put in the freezer earlier. (I wasn’t sure if it would freeze all the way, because I had to wait for other household members to leave before I could put it in there because I didn’t want anyone to find it.) For one hour, I will drink a large glass of water (about 350 ml) every 15 minutes. So I will drink 5 glasses for a total of 1750 ml of water within about one hour. Once I’ve drank the last glass of water, then I will take the water bottle out of the freezer. I will not be able to remove my pants until the ice melts. I will not do anything to speed up the melting process unless I’ve already soaked my pants. The experience 9:35 Went to the bathroom one last time, locked belt with padlock, and drank first glass of water. 9:51 Drank second glass of water. Already feel a tiny urge to pee from the first glass. Yes, I have a small bladder. I also drink green tea every morning and this belt is really tight. 10:09 Just finished the third glass of water. I’m already to the point where I would normally get up to go pee. 10:24 Just drank my fourth glass of water. It was hard to walk to the kitchen to get it. I had to cross my legs as I filled the glass and drank. I still have one more glass to drink and now that I’m back at my desk I’m sitting here with my legs shaking. The urge is strong now and I’m having trouble concentrating on my work. 10:46 I drank my last glass of water and got the bottle out of the freezer. Turns out that I did not get the bottle in the freezer early enough and it was not completely frozen. Most of the ice came out of the bottle but the key is surrounded by ice and still will not come out. This did not matter much because I was already bursting. The ending: I stood in the bathroom and shook the bottle several times, but the key was still stuck under ice that wasn’t big enough to come out of the bottle. I waited awhile and tried again, no luck. By this time I was dancing around the bathroom, crossing my legs, and holding my crotch. I was really desperate. Several times I went back to shaking the bottle to no avail. My desperation was growing by the second. I was breathing heavy and continued to dance around. Eventually it got to the point where the chain from the key was out but the key itself was still inside the bottle. I could have yanked it out, but I resisted that temptation. I continued my dancing and watched as water dripped off of the ice surrounding the key. By 11:00, I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my legs a little and let quite a bit of pee out into my pants. (You can see how much it was in the final pictures I took.) It felt SO GOOD. I plan to do this again. Perhaps next time I will find a way to freeze the bottle overnight without fear of someone finding it. Let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions for next time. Note: I will not go out in public.
    1 point
  38. also available on ao3 under the name where the baptized drown. the other kinks/rough sex bits can be skipped over if that's not your thing. jude = the joker. this is part of a 'verse where bruce works with him and kills people and stuff. ------------------------------------------------------------- April 2010 They were laying together in bed in the penthouse, exchanging slow, deep, lazy kisses. Jude rolled over to grab the lube from the nightstand and winced. Bruce reached out with his hand to touch Jude’s shoulder: “You okay, sweetheart?” Jude huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine, just — gotta piss. Lemme up real quick.” A rush of heat railed down Bruce’s spine and exploded in his stomach. It clouded his brain and made rational thinking impossible, and so Bruce did not hear himself say, “No,” until it was already out of his mouth. Instantly the heat was replaced by cold glass shards of panic. If it was anyone else — hell, even if it had been Rachel — he could’ve passed it off merely as a control thing. But it was Jude. It was Jude and he knew Bruce, he knew every single thing about him and he was intelligent and Bruce could see him working it out in his eyes and in the soft amused curl to his mouth. “No?” he repeated, almost gently. But Bruce could hardly hear him over the rush in his ears. His face was so hot he had to roll onto his back and stare at the ceiling, hardly able to breathe. The panic wrapped its tight burning fingers around his lungs and squeezed. He’d kept it a secret for two years. He’d been so good for two years. When he’d get himself off and Jude would ask what he was thinking about he’d tell partial lies: I’m hurting you. You’re in pain. And sometimes — rarely — he could get himself off thinking about it the way Jude thought, just beating him, spraying blood from his mouth or his nose. But it wasn’t often. It wasn’t the same way Jude could. And when he thought about the other thing and lied to Jude he felt sick with guilt, and even sicker when he got off anyway, fucked up images flashing through his head, things he couldn’t admit even to himself, things he’d never been able to admit to himself — The thing was Jude was fucked up too. He had his fucked up kinks and Bruce knew about them, had always known, and they roleplayed with the kinks sometimes, or they talked their way through sex with detailed fantasies about the things Jude needed from Bruce, the things Jude wanted to do to Bruce. But Bruce had known about Jude’s kinks from the beginning, from when they’d still just been Batman and the Joker. Jude had never made it a secret the things he wanted, the things he liked. He reveled in it. In fact Bruce had come to realize that other people knowing was part of the kink, that Jude enjoyed letting people know he wanted pain, he needed pain, he needed to be beaten and humiliated as long as it was entirely on his terms and under his control. The rest of the kink had far more complexities and intricacies that Jude had only let Bruce know about, but Jude didn’t mind letting Bruce know, either. He wanted him to know. He liked that Bruce knew and Bruce enjoyed indulging him, he got off seeing Jude get off, seeing the pleasure these things brought him, the bruises and the cutting and the blood and Bruce bringing Jude just to the brink of orgasm and then leaving him with his cock in a ring so he couldn’t come, the biting and the scrapes with his nails and the knifeplay and the rape fantasies and the electroshock therapy fantasies and the drugged fantasies, all of it. Bruce loved it because Jude loved it, and even more so because he knew this wasn’t something Jude wanted with just anyone, that the masochistic pain-loving side he displayed for other people was only the very surface level of it and that Jude trusted Bruce more than he’d ever trusted anyone else. But Bruce — — Bruce hadn’t ever been able to come to terms with what he liked. Not even once he saw the amount of fucked up off-kilter hardcore shit Jude was into. Once, in late summer 2009, Jude had told him, ‘I’ll try anything once,’ and Bruce had very nearly admitted what he wanted, but he just couldn’t. He just couldn’t, and he wasn’t even really sure what his hold-up over it was, except that it was there, and it was dug in so deep it was nearly part of the kink itself. The shame. The embarrassment. The horror. You like that? he’d always imagined Rachel saying, if she’d ever found out. That’s fucking sick, Bruce. And Jude… Jude might not say the same. But he’d think it. Surely, he must think it. Because people weren’t into what Bruce was into. Not normal people. He thought sometimes if he was into any other kind of weird sex stuff — come-eating, or if he had a foot kink — (which, hell, he kind of did, at least where Jude was concerned, but that was more because he liked every part of Jude than because he was fixated on feet as a whole) — but it would’ve still been easier. He could’ve just said hey, this is what I want, and Jude would’ve laughed at him but indulged him too, let him fuck the arches of his feet or suck his toes or his fingers or whatever he wanted to do. They rimmed each other and Jude liked Bruce to put his teeth on his cock even though it hurt him and it might’ve not been bad — if it was something like that, if it was something excusable — “Wayne?” Jude’s voice, still gentle. It occurred to Bruce he’d been saying his name for a while. His fingers were on Bruce’s shoulder and he’d rolled back over onto his side. His tongue came out and wet the side of his mouth. “Hey, honey — look at me, huh?” Bruce forced himself to look. The panic lifted one hand from his lungs to slap the back of his head. You fuck up, it whispered in its sinuous serpentine voice. You complete fucking loser. Jude’s throat flexed as he swallowed. He reached up from Bruce’s shoulder and touched his cheek and Bruce had to physically remind himself to stay still. “It’s okay,” Jude said, softly, “hey? It’s just me, right? It’s just us? If this is something you want — ” Bruce’s eyes blurred. His throat was so dry he had to work to make himself speak. He couldn’t — he couldn’t. Even with Jude looking at him like that. Even with Jude’s voice barely a whisper in his ear, Jude right there, gentle, warm, understanding, patient — no. No. “No,” he said, and it cracked. “I can’t — ” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He huffed out through his mouth, frustrated. Furious. Miserably alone and aching with how fucking much he desired and wanted and needed this and how he couldn’t push past this stupid fucking barrier even for the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. “I can’t, Jude. Okay? I c- I just can’t.” Jude bit his mouth. The understanding and the sliver of tender pity in his eyes was almost too much. Bruce had to restrain himself from snapping — though he knew Jude would just take it, the way he took everything. The way he’d probably take this, if Bruce could just stop being such a fucking coward — “It’s okay,” Jude said. He stroked Bruce’s cheek again, then sat up. The sheets pooled around his waist as he slung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. Bruce could see the faint bulge his bladder made against his waist and the thread of desire that wound around his body was so strong it made him nauseous. Fuck, he wanted — fuck. He just wanted. “It’s all right, honey. I’m just gonna go — ” he gestured at the bathroom — “and then we can — if you still want — ” “Yes,” Bruce whispered. He had to close his eyes. His throat was tight. “Yes, I want.” “Okay,” Jude said. Bruce listened to his feet pad across the floor. He heard the bathroom door snick shut. He bunched the sheets up in his hands and whimpered into the soft cotton. When Jude came back a minute or so later Bruce had breathed his way through the worst of it and was able to focus his attention and energy on making Jude feel good, which was what he wanted. It served as its usual distraction piece. He didn’t want to see any more of that pity in Jude’s eyes so he made him stay on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow. He gripped his hips hard enough to leave bruises and sank his nails into the skin, drawing blood. He bit his shoulder and fucked him, bottoming out inside him, flesh slapping wetly and heatedly in the stillness of the room. He called Jude a slut and a whore and slapped him and pulled his hair so hard Jude screamed a little bit, hoarse, tinged with laughter. He sank his teeth into the flesh around the scars and dragged his nails across the scars on his arms, and when he came, when they both came, he closed his eyes and shoved his face between Jude’s shoulder blades, right up against his spine, and he didn’t think, and he didn’t think, and he didn’t think. -- He wasn’t sure if everyone knew their defining moment of getting into a kink; he knew Jude didn’t have one, just that he’d always liked violence, and had decided relatively early on he wasn’t going to make a big deal about it, because he liked what he liked and it wasn’t going to go away and why should he bother denying himself that pleasure. But Bruce knew when he’d gotten into his — he’d tried to forget it, and he’d tried to deny that it was what it was, but he knew. He’d always known. There were three separate incidents, scattered through his early years. The first: he’d been three or four, maybe. He’d needed the bathroom really badly and he couldn’t remember exactly why he hadn’t been able to get to it for so long, but by the time he got in he was already wetting himself. The downstairs bathroom at Wayne Manor had been massive, as big as a regular room, but Bruce had known he wouldn’t get up the stairs without ruining the carpet and he’d yanked his pants down and stumbled into the walk-in shower, which was much closer to the door, and pissed into the drain. He’d just stood there trembling with his legs squeezed together and pissed all over himself and his pants. His mother had found him and cleaned him off and somewhere in there, in the growing desperation, in the frantic realization that he was going to wet himself, in the stumbling, in the relief, in the humiliation of his mother washing him — one or all of those things had sparked something off. He and Rachel would play with her Barbies and he’d pretend they were wetting themselves into her tea set cups and she’d squeal at how disgusting it was. Or he’d make his action figures piss off the side of the balcony in his room. He tried sneaking in to watch his father or Alfred when they used the bathroom but his father had put a stop to that really quick, and he couldn’t think about it without feeling that sick dread — the shame of being caught, of knowing he was doing something wrong, without understanding why. The second: he was maybe six or seven. It was high summer and he and Rachel were in the fields beyond the manor. They’d been drinking a lot of water to keep hydrated and Rachel was wearing her favorite summer dress. They were playing hide and seek by an old tree and suddenly from behind the trunk Bruce heard Rachel crying. Fear plunged into his heart because he assumed she’d hurt herself but when he ran around the tree he saw her gripping herself tightly through her dress. She was pissing down the trunk into her good shoes and the hem of her dress was soaked. She looked up at him with her teeth sunk into her lower lip and her eyes shining and she said, “I’m having an accident, it was an emergency, I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it, I — please don’t get mad — ” Whatever passed for desire in those days rushed through Bruce’s whole body. He couldn’t stop staring at her, the trembling muscles, the desperate clench of her hands between her legs, the way the piss ran and ran down between her thighs. “I’m not mad,” he said. “Do you want me to go get your mom?” “Uh-huh,” she whispered, and he ran off. He got Mrs. Dawes and he couldn’t remember what happened after, except that after that Rachel wouldn’t play so far from the house anymore. He’d never been sure if she remembered that incident or not. Certainly she never brought it up. Certainly he never brought it up. The third: the worst. The most shameful. Worse than being caught by his father at trying to peek into the bathroom. Worse than wishing he could share a stall with a boy at school. Worse than feeling humiliated when he tried to play with Rachel’s Barbies after the tree incident and she told him, you can’t make them do that disgusting potty thing anymore, Bruce. You’re not allowed. Worst of all of them. He wasn’t entirely sure something like this couldn’t send him to jail, if anyone ever found out. But he remembered it. He couldn’t block it out. He’d blocked out whole chunks of his life from that same time, but not this. Not any of the night itself, but especially not this: His dad’s body slammed into the ground in the alley. His ears were ringing crazily and the smell of cordite was sharp in his nostrils and the iron rich scent of blood. It would be months, he remembered, before either of those smells got out of his nose or his skin or his hair or his clothes or his fingers or his eyes or any part of him at all. He stared at his dad dying in the rainwater with his blood pooling under his shirt and spreading out beneath his suit jacket and then he looked further and he saw what was spreading beneath his father’s pants. Piss darkened his crotch as his bladder released with his fear and with his death. Bruce stared at it, running down his legs. Soaking the fine fabric. On his other side his mother fell, and the same sequence of events happened: blood pooled from her chest, and piss stained her crotch. She was aware of herself enough she tried to grip herself and Bruce stared at her hand folding uselessly between her legs in the moments before it slackened and she died, too. The gunman darted away, down the alley, into the night. Bruce could feel his own crotch dampening with fear, but he barely had anything in him, because his dad had made him go to the bathroom before the performance. When the police arrived Bruce was still staring at the piss on his father’s pants. He wished — he wanted to rewind the moment. Over and over. Gunshot, fall, piss. As the ambulance carried him away, shock blanket around his shoulders, he thought about how badly his dad must’ve had to go before he was killed. There had been a lot of piss. He was sick into a trashcan, but he couldn’t erase the thought. He wondered if his parents had been killed because he was so sick. He’d tried to block it out after that. For years he’d tried. He’d pretend the dreams he had about uncontrollable urination were just because he needed to piss in his sleep. He pretended all of his fantasies didn’t involve Rachel’s hand between her legs, Rachel squeezing her thighs together, Rachel potty-dancing in front of a toilet. He pretended he couldn’t remember anything from the night his parents died. He pretended it didn’t feel fucking good to stagger into filthy back alleys in Asia and piss after a long session of sparring, or after a long session of control therapy where he’d refuse his body any sort of relief for hours as part of his training. He pretended, and he pretended, and he pretended. But it hadn’t done any good. Even now, with Jude, when he fantasized, it was in the vaguest possible ways, without naming it to himself, without fully picturing what he wanted, and it still didn’t do any good. It was still there. Every single fucked up shameful humiliating aching wanting needing part of it. He was still fucked up beyond repair and now Jude knew and Jude was going to leave. He’d think about it and decide he couldn’t handle having a freak for a boyfriend and he’d leave. He’d kick Bruce out of the gang. And then Bruce would have nothing. He’d be nothing. All because he hadn’t been able to keep his fucking mouth shut for once in his life. He lay awake until dawn staring at the ceiling. Jude was beside him sleeping or pretending to; at one point Bruce must have made a noise, or else Jude was just severely in tune with him, because he rolled over and half woke and touched Bruce’s cheek again: “‘s all right, honey,” he murmured, “‘m here.” Then he subsided again, tucking his face against Bruce’s neck, folding their fingers together. But Bruce knew it was only a matter of time. Once Jude woke up, once he remembered — ‘I’ll try anything once.’ But he can’t have meant this. ‘If you want — ’ But he can’t have really meant it. He was just indulging because that’s what he did. He was just telling Bruce yes because he never said no. He didn’t want this. No one wanted this. Bruce covered his mouth with his hand. He shut his eyes. The panic curled up over his chest and settled in. -- Jude’s favorite fantasy was when Bruce pretended to drug him with chlorpromazine and then rape him. They had a bottle of placebos that looked a lot like the actual antipsychotic. Bruce would slip Jude one between his lips and hold his jaw shut until he swallowed. If Jude refused he’d crack him across the jaw. If Jude talked back — which he did sometimes, laughing at Bruce from beneath lidded eyes, taunting him — he’d hit him even harder. Usually by the time the pill was swallowed Jude was bleeding from some part of himself and cackling wildly. Then Bruce would roll him over, roughly, and jerk his pants down, and unzip his own. He’d shove Jude’s face into the mattress and hold him there. ‘Stay down you piece of shit.’ Sometimes he’d spit on Jude, on the back of his neck. He’d hit him again, and again, and again. He’d bite him hard enough to draw blood and he’d fuck into him with no prep, no lube, and no warning. He’d jerk him hard and slap his cock and scrape it with his fingernails. He’d grab Jude’s hair and haul him up from the mattress, then slam his head into the headboard repeatedly while he fucked him. Jude would pretend to be sobbing the whole time, his hands fisted in the sheets, sometimes coming up to grab at Bruce — which Bruce then had to slap his hand away, or grab it and shove it between them, to where Bruce’s cock was going in and out of Jude’s ass. ‘Please,’ he’d whimper, ‘oh, fuck, please stop, please, I’ll be good, I promise, please, no — ’ By the time he came he’d be a fucking wreck, covered in scratches and blood, shaking uncontrollably, mouth bitten. It was such a violent, unsettling fantasy they only indulged in it once every few weeks, but Bruce knew how much Jude loved it, how much he craved and needed it, and he enjoyed himself because Jude did. When they did it this time, four days after the piss incident, Jude fought against Bruce getting him on his stomach. They didn’t generally employ a safeword but because of the nature of this fantasy Jude had allowed Bruce one out — every so often if Bruce felt uncomfortable he’d tap the inside of Jude’s wrist, gently, and Jude would reach back and squeeze Bruce’s hand. ‘I’m okay,’ it meant. ‘It’s not too much. I promise. Keep going.’ Jude fighting Bruce about the rolling over thing was so unusual Bruce had to tap his wrist three separate times, until finally Jude rolled his eyes, pushed himself up on his elbows, touched their foreheads together, and whispered, “Wayne, I know what I’m doing. If I don’t like it I’ll shove you off. You have to trust me, honey. Please,” and his voice and his face and his eyes and everything in the tension of his shoulders and his whole body was so desperate, and so open, that Bruce gave up, nodded, and kept going. He smacked Jude across the face. He drew blood under his eye, and across his scars. Jude started laughing wildly, jerking his hips up against Bruce’s. “If I’d known you were so sick, doctor, I’d’ve requested a different psych years ago,” he said. “Or maybe I’d’ve recommended you get one. Can patients recommend their own doctors psychiatrists?” “I don’t know,” Bruce growled, straining to stay in the headspace. “Well, maybe we can make this one an exception, huh?” Jude reached up to touch Bruce’s face and Bruce grabbed his wrist and shoved it back on the bed. He tried again to flip Jude over and Jude held him off, digging his toes into his thigh. “You’re so fucked up, you want so many fucked up things, you’re gonna need more therapy than even I’ve ever — ” Bruce punched Jude in the mouth. His fist rang with the shock of the impact and he realized with stunning clarity he was really, genuinely angry. “Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” he snarled. “You fucking gutterfilth piece of trash.” Jude blinked up at him. His mouth and his nose were soaked in blood, but he was grinning, broadly. “Ooh,” he said, “hit a nerve, huh? Maybe you don’t like hearing I’m not the only freak in the room — ” “I said shut up,” Bruce growled, and hit Jude again, smacking his head backwards against the headboard. “Shut the fuck up; you don’t get to talk to me about being a fucking freak, you don’t get to talk to me about being fucked up. You fucking animal. You fucking trash. You want every single thing I give you. You’d climax as I was murdering you. You shit.” Jude’s laughter rang up to the high ceiling. This was not ever how the fantasy went. Even when Jude talked back to Bruce it was pretty subdued and it was over pretty quick. He wanted Bruce to overpower him and to have it stay there. He seemed to need that level of vulnerability because he couldn’t get it from anyone else comfortably. This was different, and Bruce wasn’t sure what it meant — or rather, he thought he knew, and he didn’t like it. He was getting uncomfortable, but there was no signal for that. If he tapped Jude’s wrist now Jude would just remind him again he was fine, but Jude being fine didn’t mean anything if Bruce wasn’t — “Why don’t you just admit what you want from me, doctor,” Jude whispered. He was giggling, staring up at Bruce, mouth bloody, eyes going unfocused as he (sort of) pretended the placebo was affecting him. “Why don’t you just admit you want to take shit from me and then take it. Instead of going through all this song and d— ” It was too much. Bruce didn’t have a word he could use and he didn’t have words he could use without giving too much away. He grabbed Jude by the back of the neck and this time he was able to flip him over because he moved quickly, Batman rising to the surface. He shoved his knee down against the back of Jude’s thigh and pinned him down with that and with his elbow and then he fucked him. He kept his face shoved into the mattress and he fucked him so hard he drew blood and he kept whispering ‘shut up. shut the fuck up’ over and over and he was trembling. They both were. Jude was slapping ineffectively at Bruce’s thigh and every time he did Bruce would just grab his hand and cut into his skin again with his nails. He forced Jude’s body to rock against the mattress, cock trapped between his own body and the sheets, until he felt Jude tense up and then shudder out his orgasm. Then instantly Bruce pulled out and doubled over himself, running to the bathroom. He dry-heaved into the sink. He was shaking all over. He didn’t realize he was crying until he discovered he was only standing because he was gripping the sink so hard. He’d gone soft already. He was covered in blood and scratches and he was in pain and warm all over and he hated himself. Fuck, he hated himself. This sick thing in him he couldn’t want and he couldn’t get rid of. And how dare Jude try to bring it out like that. How dare Jude pretend he understood. When Jude himself had never had an issue with his own desires and wants. Why couldn’t it just be enough for them to be the way they’d been now for two years? Why did Jude have to try and make Bruce do anything different? He heard footsteps, and then Jude’s face appeared behind his in the mirror. “Hey,” he said, softly, “you okay?” He was soaked too, filthy with his own come and with blood and bite marks and rising bruises. His hair was a fucked mess on top of his head and his hand was trembling from overexertion as he reached up to touch Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce tensed. Jude pulled back. He bit his mouth. “Are you mad at me?” he asked. “Did I do someth— ” “Please leave me alone,” Bruce whispered. He discovered he could no longer look at Jude so he closed his eyes and ducked his head down. “Please, just — I need to be alone.” Jude exhaled, slowly. “Okay,” he said, after a while. “Do you — I mean, should I just — I can go back to the apartment if you — ” Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel guilt trying to rise up from where it always dwelt, just below the surface. He hadn’t bothered giving Jude any aftercare. He’d just fucked him raw and left him there on the mattress, filthy and panting, and this wasn’t Jude’s fault, this was all Bruce, all of Bruce’s fucked stupid insecurities and untreated Issues. No, he wanted to say. No, don’t really leave. I can’t bear it if you leave. I can’t handle this on my own even though I’m pretending I can and I can’t be by myself, I want to make you feel wanted, I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you, please don’t go — “Maybe so,” he said, hating himself, every part of himself. “For a little while.” Jude made a noise Bruce refused to allow himself to interpret. “All right,” he said, quietly, and then Bruce heard his footsteps again. He didn’t let himself look up for a long time, but when he did Jude was gone. The sheets had been somewhat straightened and his clothes were gone and he was gone. His shoes and his apartment keys and his hair tie and his Walkman and his burner phone. Bruce’s eyes blurred over, and this time he couldn’t fight it, so he didn’t bother trying. He stumbled into the shower and turned it on as hot as it would go. He sat on the floor and curled up with his knees to his chest and his chin on his knees and he cried. And the panic crawled up over his back and nestled itself against his shoulder and whispered, you see? -- Alfred could tell something was wrong, but as it had been for years he didn’t push. The next few days Bruce went down to meetings and came back up and swam laps or pushed himself on the treadmill or with weightlifting until he was exhausted, panting on the gym floor, arms trembling. He texted Jude a few times to make sure he was still alive and Jude always responded pretty much instantly, which meant he had the phone on him and wanted desperately for Bruce to call, but Bruce knew he wouldn’t make the first move because this was Bruce’s shit to work through, and Jude was being… whatever, conscientious. He got a few texts from Cornell asking why he wasn’t going on runs and what the fuck was going on between him and the boss and could he please fix it because Jude was impossible to be around when he and Bruce were fighting. Kiedis came over once to give a report on the shell company running out of Wayne Tech and told Bruce quite cheerfully that both he and Jude looked like absolute shit. But Bruce couldn’t — he just couldn’t. He was furious with himself for not being able to work around these stupid walls he’d put up for himself and he was furious with Jude for trying to break them down and he was furious with himself for being furious with Jude because he knew Jude was only trying to help. It was the same thing Jude had done almost two years ago when he’d initiated Bruce into the gang and brought out his ugly violent side and Bruce knew that. He knew how much happier he was now with this new life, and how he’d never go back, and how even if he’d managed to figure it out on his own that the darkness was part of him he would’ve never been able to actualize it without Jude. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t bear this. He couldn’t want this. Not with what was attached to it, not with how taboo it was, not with how humiliating, not — not with any of it. When he’d lived in Europe, there had been a few close incidents — a guy on the Eurail sitting next to him had spent a while shifting uncomfortably in his seat and crossing his legs. He’d bumped Bruce’s elbow accidentally twice before turning to him with a sheepish grin and admitting, “Sorry, mate, I really need the toilet,” which was — a whole new level of erotic, and Bruce had barely been able to mumble a coherent, normal response. A woman he’d been kind of flirting with in a bar in Germany invited him out behind the bar and said, “Just — ‘scuse me for a second, would you,” before hitching her skirt up her thighs, spreading her legs, and pissing, hard, for well over a minute. “Oh, das ist gut,” she’d moaned, “I’ve been holding it forever…” and Bruce had thought he might pass out. And once, in a training center in Switzerland, the instructor had gone too long in their session and had to race into the bathroom midway through. Bruce had felt him trembling as he’d positioned Bruce’s body and seen the way he was bending at the waist when he tried to stand straight. He didn’t shut the door all the way and Bruce saw him through the crack in it leaning against the back wall and gasping as he aimed his cock and pissed into the toilet. Bruce tried. He tried. He went out after all those times — and other times too, smaller incidents, dreams he had or just hearing other men pissing in the bathrooms wherever he was, even seeing people cross their legs in public for reasons that may not have even been bathroom-related — and picked fights, got himself beaten to shit, or beat someone else to shit. His fist colliding with men’s jaws and cheekbones and his knee to their stomachs and their foreheads smashing together. Ending up in the free clinics at two in the morning with bloody knuckles and a sprained wrist and a black eye. Desperate to distract himself from this sick, twisted need that wouldn’t go away. It didn’t work, it never worked, but it felt fucking good, anyway. It was enough of something else he wanted that he was able to tell himself it was enough overall. He liked violence, loved it, even. Long before his tender other self had emerged with Jude’s assistance he knew he liked violence. He hid it behind Batman for a long time, and then he didn’t. And it should have been enough. It should have been enough. For years he’d thought he just wasn’t trying hard enough. For years he thought if he just disciplined himself harder, if he was just more brutal, if he just pushed a little too hard until he was blacking out from whatever — exhaustion, pain, anger — he’d block it out. But it wasn’t gone. In some ways since joining Jude’s gang and renouncing Batman it had gotten worse. It was as though the tender creature was budding its head there too, and begging for release. You need this. You need Jude, you need his brand of anger. And you need this too. It’s okay. It’s okay. The tender creature was a liar, Bruce’s panic said. But the tender creature itself knew it hadn’t lied in almost two years. And the urges were there; they were distracting, they were ruining everything. The flashes of Rachel pissing behind the tree, of his parents pissing themselves when they died, of his accident in the shower… once, when he was a freshman in high school, and he and Alfred had been stuck in traffic on 78 and he’d finally had to beg him to pull over because he’d started leaking into his shorts. He’d barely gotten the door open and his cock out before he was pissing. Some of it hit the footwell because he couldn’t get far enough out of the car. Alfred hadn’t minded; he hadn’t said anything. But Bruce knew he’d drank more than he’d really needed or even wanted. He knew he’d done it on purpose. And later that night at the manor, flush with shame, his hand snaking beneath his shorts — This was ruining everything. It was getting between him and Jude. But it didn’t have to. It didn’t have to. -- He looked up piss kink on Google. Most of the search results were for shit he wasn’t into, people pissing on each other without holding it, people drinking piss, people using sounders… most of them were naked, which didn’t do anything for Bruce, and absolutely none of them seemed to really need to go. In fact most of them were acting like the piss was a very secondary factor to the erotic… whatever they were doing. The women rubbed their breasts and moaned as they pissed and the men held their cocks over toilet bowls and pissed for, like, fifteen seconds, which… what the fuck. What was that. Bruce was frustrated enough he nearly gave up on the whole endeavor, but then he saw a tiny thumbnail near the bottom of the page of a woman in jeans with her legs crossed tightly and her hands jammed between them and — — yeah. Okay. Yeah. He clicked the link. The woman was walking around outside her house in her jeans and an overcoat and holding herself, bending frantically at the waist. Into her cell phone she snapped, ‘Hurry up, I need to piss,’ and Bruce’s whole body jolted. He pressed the heel of his hand down on his cock, feeling it twitch. The woman flipped her phone shut and shoved it into her pocket. The movement made her wince and double over further, squeezing down hard enough Bruce could see her knuckles grow white. She groaned and twisted herself, curling her fist against her thigh, pacing like an animal. ‘Oh,’ she moaned, softly, after a while, ‘oh I can’t do this, I can’t hold it — ’ She attempted to get to the front door but it was locked, and as she started moving away from the door again she groaned, ‘Oh, no,’ and whoever was holding the camera focused in on her crotch in time to show — Fuck. The piss spread from beneath her hands and down her thighs. She let out a few choked sobs — and Bruce watched in fascination, unable to breathe, as the flow stopped. The flow stopped, but she was clearly still desperate, twisting and holding herself and tapping her fingers frantically over her hip. She was biting her lip and looking around and Bruce paused the video on a shot of her still doubled over, jaw clenched. He was hard, just from watching this video. He still had his hand pressed to his cock and he wanted desperately to jerk off; he wanted to come, but not like this. Not like this. Gritting his teeth he shut the laptop and stood, stretching his arms over his head and shifting his legs a little to ease the pressure. Then — deep breath — he reached for his phone. As he flipped it open panic stole over him again; it bit his heart and whispered, you can’t — — but the tender creature shoved it backwards screaming into the darkness and whispered back, yes I will. He called Jude, who picked up on the second ring: “Wayne — ” sounding desperate, hopeful, unhappy, broken, and Bruce realized with a feeling like being hit in the back of the head with a sledgehammer that he hadn’t spoken to Jude, really, outside of a few sentences, in nearly a week. What an asshole he’d been. What an asshole, and how foolish. The kink — the shame — none of it was ruining anything. The kink wasn’t ruining anything. Bruce had done all this himself. He sucked in a breath. “Jude,” he said, “sweetheart, can you come — ” “I’ll be there in twenty,” Jude said, and hung up. Bruce’s hands started shaking; it occurred to him as he tossed his phone on the mattress what this meant, what he was doing. He bit his knuckles. What was he doing? He’d only just looked at piss porn for the first time in his life today. He couldn’t shake the memory of Rachel’s disgust at the games he’d play with her dolls; the curdling horror at finding something… fascinating about his parents wetting themselves as they literally fucking died. The years and years of telling himself he was sick, he was twisted, he was broken — But this was Jude. And Jude liked strange things too; he’d given his heart to Bruce, he’d laid himself bare and open and there were things he’d told him that Bruce knew he’d never told nor would ever tell another person. He’d fixed Bruce and made him whole and it was irrational to believe he’d leave Bruce over something like this. Not when he’d been so frantic to get back to the penthouse. Still, by the time Jude got back to the penthouse Bruce had whiplashed himself between thinking it would be okay and that it would all fall apart, and he almost couldn’t walk down the short hall from his room to the kitchen to see him. Jude was standing at the entranceway with his hair pulled back and his scars laddered down his shoulders and though he was talking quietly to Alfred his attention focused on Bruce the second he appeared in the door, laser intent, electric, lashed. As ever like two magnets crashing together. Bruce took a step forward; Jude excused himself from Alfred’s side, and then — there he was. He laced their fingers together and bumped his nose against Bruce’s cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered. Bruce reached up, tugged at a loose curl framing Jude’s face. “I was an idiot,” he whispered back. “Come with me,” and together they walked down the hall and into his room. With the door shut they walked to the bed and Jude stretched himself out on the mattress. He held out his hands and Bruce walked to him, crawling between his legs, smoothing his palm down his cheek. He leaned down and bit Jude’s lower lip, drawing it into his mouth. Jude sucked in a breath. “Wayne — ” “I want — ” Bruce closed his eyes; pressed their foreheads together. “Fuck, Jude, I just — I — ” It stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say it. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, or anyway he tried to. Their hands were still joined, though, and he felt Jude stroke over his knuckles with his thumb. “It’s okay,” Jude said softly. With his other hand he drew Bruce’s head down slightly so he could kiss his forehead. “If you can’t say it, it’s okay.” Bruce felt him push his hips up, dragging their crotches together. Bruce gasped out, shuddering, the arousal from earlier spiraling back out. “But I want it,” Bruce said. He was nearly in tears. “Fuck, I just, I need it, Jude. I need it and I need it with you and I’ve been so stupid keeping it from you — ” “No, honey — ” “I just, I’ve never been able to — not even with myself. I’ve hated it my whole life. I couldn’t even admit that I liked it, and… and you’ve just always…” He trailed off. He felt Jude’s fingers trailing slowly down his spine, soothing over him; after a moment he said, quietly, “I want you to trust me. I want you to be comfortable with me and whatever you want with me. I’m not forcing you to admit anything you’re into or not into until you’re ready. And if you’re never ready — ” he dragged his hips up again, and Bruce groaned — “that’s okay. I just want to be with you, Wayne. I like what I like and you’re right, it’s not an issue for me. But we’re two different people. I appreciate you doing what you do with me and if that’s all you’ll ever be comfortable with that’s fine. But — if you ever want to explore anything else. I’m open to anything. Anything. I promise.” He tucked his fingers under Bruce’s jaw. “I won’t leave you,” he murmured, and Bruce could have cried, so he surged up instead, and fit their mouths together. This time he pushed down against Jude, so that Jude shuddered, eyes falling shut. He kissed down his jaw and over his neck to suck a bruise into the taut, pale skin, over the hot racing heart. “I love you,” he said, sex-rough. “I love you, Jude.” “Love you too, Wayne,” Jude said, and reached up to card his fingers through the short soft ends of Bruce’s hair. -- Two days later they stumbled together into Jude’s apartment covered in blood — not their own — and after dropping their clothes at the front door in a gasoline- and blood- and sweat-soaked heap they made their way into the bathroom where after some maneuvering they managed to pile into the shower. Jude turned the water on all the way and solely with the hot knob because the pressure was shit again and the heater in his unit had been sort of broken for a few days. He ran his hair under the water so that it lay flat and faintly wavy against his head and then he pulled Bruce against him and kissed him roughly with the water catching between their mouths. “I thought — ” “Yeah, I know, so did I — ” Jude pressed his hands against the sides of Bruce’s face. “No one’s fucking taking me from you,” he said. “No one’s taking you from me either. I won’t allow it, Wayne.” Bruce’s hands were still trembling faintly from the incident. It had been a bad run-in with some dealers; Bruce had killed a guy with his favored knife, and Jude had used a garrote on his companion when he’d tried to shoot Bruce in the heart. His whole head had fucking come off and flown across the pavement; the blood had gotten in Bruce’s hair and sprayed over his face. Reznor had made a joke about soccer and Jude had snorted even as he was trying to get Bruce into the Mustang so they could leave. They’d gotten their money and their drugs and everything was settled — but there was always a comedown moment after the more harrowing near-death experiences, even now, after all this time. Jude — always possessive and fierce and tender when they were alone — was perhaps at his most gentle, his most loving, when he’d been afraid he’d lose Bruce. He leaned in and bit Bruce’s mouth and Bruce whispered, “I won’t allow it either,” against his warm, damp skin. He dropped his head onto Jude’s shoulder and they stood for several minutes in the (relatively warm) spray, swaying back and forth, Jude humming softly in Bruce’s ear, hand on the small of his back. Then Jude said, “Hang on a second, I gotta piss,” and Bruce — adrenaline crashing, relieved to have Jude in his arms, tired, in love, lazy and safe and warm — reached up with his hand to grab Jude’s wrist as he started to push the shower curtain back, and he said, “No. Stay.” Immediately after the panic tried to seize his brain and clutch the vestiges left that still hesitated over this, but Bruce forced it back. He wanted this. He wanted this. More than that, Jude wanted it. He’d promised Bruce. And Bruce had thought about waiting until he felt ready but the truth was he didn’t think he’d ever feel ready. The panic wasn’t going away, the shame wasn’t going away — but neither were the urges. Neither were the dreams and the desires and Bruce thought perhaps, with time, with exposure, the unpleasant parts would lessen, and perhaps one day fade away entirely. He needed that. He needed this, desperately. Jude was looking at him, curious. “Stay?” Bruce nodded. “Uh-huh.” Jude’s mouth twitched. He maneuvered them so that he was out of the spray. “But I have to piss, Wayne.” “I know,” Bruce said. His throat was tight. He didn’t know what he was feeling, just that there was a lot of it. His eyes dropped down to Jude’s dick, then back up to his mouth. “You can piss in here.” Jude raised his eyebrows. It was entirely for show; Bruce knew how to read his body language better than anything in the world, and Jude was loving this, every second of it. “Wayne, I don’t — ” “How bad do you have to go?” Bruce asked. It was easier than telling Jude what he wanted outright, and Jude was smart enough to understand, and to go along with it: “I mean, pretty bad, I’ve been — I haven’t gone since before we left for the drug deal and that was what, four, five hours ago?” “So you’ve been holding it for all that time?” “Uh-huh.” Bruce swallowed. He could see that Jude was letting him lead entirely on this one; of course they’d never explored this, and Jude wouldn’t know what to say to get Bruce off, but Bruce — even in here, even with Jude tilting his body forward and looking at Bruce with gentle encouragement, he couldn’t quite let himself go all the way. He couldn’t make himself say what he wanted, but he knew Jude wouldn’t push, either. He wanted all sorts of things he couldn’t even name, he wanted things he had never even thought of before, and so in the end it was easier to just keep it very simple. “I want you to piss here,” he said, “just let go, Jude, c’mon,” and Jude set his feet and held his cock and pissed. The noise he made when it started coming — sharp, relieved — shot straight to Bruce’s own cock, and he couldn’t keep himself from doing what he’d ached to do for days — no, weeks; no, all his fucking life — and taking himself in his hand and stroking, hard, brutally, punishing. He came harder than he could ever remember coming, watching Jude piss, listening to the soft noises he made as the stream slowed and tapered off. His toes were still curled against the shower floor when Jude started jerking himself, and then Bruce’s controlling brain kicked into overdrive and he knocked Jude’s hand out of the way to finish him off, too. They kissed for a long time after, starving and wet and messy, until the water had gone frigid. They huddled up together under their blanket on Jude’s mattress and kissed until they fell asleep. Bruce woke in the morning with his fingers in Jude’s hair, his mouth on his neck. Something felt loosened between them, open and soft and free. “I enjoyed last night,” Jude said. “Did you?” “Yes,” Bruce said. He ducked his head and kissed Jude’s knuckles so he wouldn’t have to look at his face and embarrass himself by crying. “Yeah, I did.” Jude smiled at him. He touched the corner of Bruce’s mouth. “‘m glad, champion,” he whispered. -- Gradually they started working out what Bruce liked. His vaguely formed desires from childhood spilled over and found words. They played around with it and fucked around and Bruce discovered what he wanted Jude to say and what he didn’t, and what he wanted Jude to do and what he didn’t. They incorporated it a little into Jude’s fantasies, usually where Jude would end up pissing himself because Bruce hit him really hard when he had a full bladder. They never actually did anything with Jude pissing in reality — Bruce had no idea how to go about getting it started, and Jude was still letting Bruce control this entirely. But the fantasies were more than enough. Jude was excellent at pretending. Bruce even managed to admit — shaking, ashamed — the thing about his parents. Jude didn’t say anything, never brought it up again. But he also didn’t leave. He didn’t leave and he touched Bruce after he’d told him, stroking his arm, kissing his neck. ‘I love you,’ he said, quietly, pressing their foreheads together. ‘I mean it. I love you.’ And Bruce discovered — he was allowed to relax. He was allowed to want this. When Jude came into Bruce’s room at the penthouse early in the afternoon nearly a month after the first incident in the shower, Bruce was working on filing some reports for the Enterprises. Jude had been out all day establishing connections because Bruce had a lot of work to do before the weekend. They were planning on holing themselves up in the penthouse until Monday morning, fucking and playing video games and listening to music and working out and driving Alfred crazy. Jude hadn’t been due to come in for another hour, though, and Bruce wasn’t quite finished with his paperwork. “Hey, sweetheart,” Bruce said, without looking up from his desk. “Sorry, you’re a little early; I’m not quite done — ” “Oh, take your time,” Jude said. His voice was odd, a little bit strained, and Bruce glanced over momentarily — and then looked again. Jude was standing with a half-empty water bottle in his hand. His smile was as strained as his voice and Bruce could see that he was pressing his thighs together. He didn’t realize his mouth had fallen open until he felt his throat drying out. He swallowed, hard; hands trembling against the paperwork, he said, “How, uh — I mean, what — ” “I’ve already had three bottles,” Jude said. “This is my fourth. I’ve — oh, fuck — ” he crossed his legs despite he was standing and Bruce’s brain turned into white noise — “I’ve been spacing them out over the day, but it’s really starting to hit me now and I — ” He took a long swallow from the bottle, then doubled up on himself. His hand flew to cover his cock. “I need to piss, Wayne.” Bruce’s mouth was completely dry, even though he’d shut it. Jude wasn’t quite able to stand still; he was shifting his weight constantly from foot to foot, squeezing his thighs together, pushing one knee up over the other. His hand was shaking where he was holding the bottle. He’d wedged the other hand between his legs and was gripping himself, hard. “I need the bathroom, honey, please,” Jude said, and Bruce’s whole body came back online in a sudden rush. His cock twitched in his pants. He looked down at his paperwork. Then back up to Jude. Slowly, he said, “You’re gonna have to wait. I’m sorry. I’m in the middle of something and I can’t cater to you.” Panic flared across Jude’s face. “Oh — ” He squeezed his cock and crossed his legs over his hand for a moment. “Wayne, c’mon — ” “You can wait,” Bruce said, feigning indifference — or anyway trying to. But his whole body was a mess of emotions and aching and he could hear the tremor in his voice as he forced himself to turn away and shuffle his papers up. He couldn’t even see the writing on them he was shaking so hard, every inch of his body focused towards Jude, jaw clenching tighter and tighter. He heard shuffling noises and water sloshing and looked up again to see Jude downing the rest of his bottle, still hunched up. He dropped the bottle on the floor and dragged his fist down his thigh. “I have to go,” he said. “Wayne, please, I — it’s an emergency, please, I can’t — fuck, I can’t wait — ” “You shouldn’t have drank that last bit of water then, huh,” Bruce said. His voice sounded overloud in his own ears. “You fucking idiot.” “I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t thinking, honey…” Jude was wearing his suit trousers since he’d been out all day and he reached under his shirt to unsnap the button. Bruce caught a flash of how bloated he was and the arousal rushed over him in a stunning overheated wave. His fingers — coated in greasepaint — curled around his cock again. He pressed his thighs together. Shifted. “Please… please let me into the bathroom…” “I said I’m busy,” Bruce repeated, though he couldn’t even look down at his papers. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Jude, standing there, shifting, squirming, moaning softly and chewing his lower lip and glancing again and again at the bathroom door. Four fucking bottles of water. Bruce could hardly believe — when it was over he’d have to ask Jude how long he’d planned this. And how excited he must’ve been to know this was the date when he’d do it, when he’d surprise Bruce with it. Underneath the arousal and the game Bruce felt love so sudden and so strong he was nearly bowled over. He licked his mouth and looked at Jude and let his mask slip from his eyes long enough for Jude to see it. And Jude must have seen it because he relaxed his face enough to show the same. His lips twitched up at the corners. Then he winced, and gasped, plunging his hands deeper between his thighs. “Fuck,” he breathed, “fuck, Wayne, I — it’s coming out, please, oh — ” Bruce could tell he was curling his toes inside his shoes. He forced his mouth into a thin line. He forced himself to turn away. “You’re a grown man,” he said, voice trembling again. “If you can’t wait to use the bathroom — ” “I really, really can’t,” Jude moaned, “please just — I need to get in there, I need to get in there so badly, I need to get to the toilet, I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna piss myself, honey, I’m — ” he exhaled sharply, and Bruce glanced over again in time to see a dark spot appear at Jude’s crotch. He stared at it. Jude stared at it. He licked at his scars. “I leaked,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry, I leaked, I’m having an accident — ” “For fuck’s sake,” Bruce said. “Please just — fuck, I drank so much, I drank too much, I know, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, it’s just — fuck, it’s so much, two whole liters, oh, fuck, oh no — ” The dark spot grew on his trousers. He whined low in his throat, squeezing his legs together tighter. He was panting like a fucking animal. Bruce was fully hard. He was afraid to touch himself; even through his pants he thought he might come. Slowly he stood; he walked around the couch and over to where Jude was standing. Jude’s eyes darted up to him and he licked his mouth again, frantic. He was gripping himself and squirming. “I’m leaking, I’m — oh, I’m gonna have an accident, I’m gonna go to the bathroom in my pants, please, please help, please let me — ” Bruce reached in and touched Jude’s bladder. It was swollen and rock hard and Jude gasped out. He leaked again; Bruce saw the piss spread out past his hands and run halfway down one thigh. “It hurts so much, I can’t make it — ” “I don’t care.” “I can’t fucking move, Wayne, honey — ” “I don’t care.” Jude was still squirming. “I can’t hold it,” he moaned, and Bruce had to press the heel of his hand against his crotch. He gritted his teeth. Fuck. “You’re gonna piss yourself,” Bruce said. “Right here.” “I really am, please — there’s too much, it’s coming out — ” He started pissing harder; it ran down the rest of his thigh and spilled out onto the floor. His crotch was dark and shining and every few seconds Bruce could see the fabric getting rewetted. Jude was still gripping himself hard and crossing his legs and squirming and when Bruce walked behind him and wrapped his hands around his middle Jude gasped: “Oh, don’t do that, oh, please, I’m pissing myself, I’m having an accident in my pants — honey please I need the bathroom so bad I can’t hold it, oh, fuck, fuck, I can’t hold it — ” He was sobbing. Bruce couldn’t tell if it was affected or not, but it didn’t matter. He slid his hand down Jude’s stomach over Jude’s own hand. He laced their fingers together over his soaked crotch. “Let go,” Bruce whispered in his ear. “It’s too late, just let go,” and Jude whimpered. His whole body shivered before going limp; he slumped backwards into Bruce’s arms and started pissing full force into his pants, moaning softly at the feeling of it. Bruce could feel it coming out onto his hand, heard the hiss as it ran down Jude’s thighs and onto the floor. He pissed for well over a minute, maybe two minutes. Every so often Bruce thought he was slowing down but then a fresh burst of it would come out and Jude would whine and squirm and whimper, “I’m sorry, oh, honey, I’m still having an accident, there’s more, I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t hold it,” and Bruce would kiss his neck, stroke his hair, and tell him, “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’ve got you. It’s okay.” Eventually the stream tapered off. Little spurts came out for a while and then Jude groaned, turned, and slid his filthy hands into Bruce’s hair. He kissed him savagely; Bruce tasted blood, and fisted his hand in Jude’s shirt, pulling him even closer. He dragged their crotches together, feeling the heavy soaked fabric of Jude’s trousers against his own. Fuck, he was so close to coming. He was trembling, gasping into Jude’s open mouth. Jude licked Bruce’s tongue, and suddenly Bruce couldn’t wait. He shoved his own pants down, grabbed his cock. He was so hard it hurt to touch himself but it took just a few shuddering frantic rough pulls and then the heat spiraled down his spine and coiled in his stomach and he was coming, so hard he staggered against Jude, pushing them both towards the wall. His mouth went slack from the force of it and he closed his eyes and pressed his face into Jude’s neck, fucking his fist, biting Jude’s skin. Jude held onto him the whole time, riding him through it. Eventually when the aftershocks subsided Bruce became aware that Jude was humming to him, softly, pressing his mouth to Bruce’s temple, and that Bruce was crying. Jude was swaying them back and forth like he’d done in his shower and he reached up and wiped the tears off Bruce’s cheek. He smiled at him. He had such a beautiful smile. “Thank you,” Bruce whispered. He didn’t have the strength to talk any louder than that. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He reached up, too, and touched Jude’s scars. Jude closed his eyes, leaned into Bruce’s hand. “I love you,” Bruce said, “I love you so much.” “I love you too, honey,” Jude said. He turned his face a little so he could kiss Bruce’s palm. For a while they were quiet, just standing there, breathing together. Eventually Jude pushed away from the wall enough he could tug his pants off, and his shirt, the hem of which was also soaked. Bruce could see where his bladder was still swollen. As he stripped off his own clothes Jude glanced down too. His mouth twitched. “‘m gonna need to go again soon, honey,” he said. “It’s already getting kinda bad.” “Oh, don’t worry,” Bruce said, smiling too. He curled their fingers together and started for the bathroom. “I’m sure you can wait.”
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  40. I would only do something like that if I know that they are into this stuff, and if they are aware that this kind of surprise can happen, and even then I would still feel terrible for doing it.
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  41. I'm having fun at bed and you just made my day! Thanks for the story. Amazing writing too!
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  42. Loved it! Wonderful artwork as always.
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  44. Wetting the bed for the first time in years must have flipped some kind of switch in Dwight’s body, because it happened yet again the very next night. He’d done all the right things that time, too. He’d peed before heading to sleep, and hadn’t drank much before bed… Still, he’d found himself dreaming about needing the restroom very badly and just barely making it, then he woke up damp. The next several nights were dry, and then the worst thing imaginable happened; Dwight peed the bed when Kenneth was sleeping next to him. Kenneth had even been the first to wake up, fidgeting at the unpleasant sensation of cold, damp liquid coating his backside. When it registered what had happened, he’d yelped. Dwight had apologized to him over and over again, and hoped it wouldn’t make Kenneth want to stop sharing the bed with him. He could tell Kenneth was trying very hard not to yell at him, not to say “Dwight, this is vile!” and make him feel ashamed. “I—It’s okay…” Kenneth had managed. “We can just change and go back to sleep…” Kenneth had even made it a point to cuddle as close to Dwight as he could for the rest of the night to make up for the revolted expression he was sure had been on his face. Then, the next night, Kenneth had agreed to sleep with him again with no hesitation. It really WAS okay. Dwight stayed dry that night. And the night after that. But, then, he had a major accident, one that drenched him, Kenneth, the sheets, and the mattress. Exhausted, Kenneth sat up, trying not to let the disgust show on his face as he felt his boxers clinging to him… He hated himself for thinking it, but if he HAD to be soaked in urine right now, he really wished it could have been his own and not someone else’s. “Dwight… Why is this happening so much now?” “I don’t know…” Dwight mumbled, feeling horribly ashamed. “I… I didn’t do it since I was a little, and now suddenly—“ “What time do you stop drinking each day?” Kenneth asked. “Well… The hydration regimen we have to do,” Dwight reminded. “I have to stick to that, so I can’t stop drinking before six…” Six should have left plenty of time for Dwight’s body to process all of his water, though… “IS that when you stop?” “Ever since this started getting bad, yes,” Dwight said. “And I’m so thirsty when I’m trying to go to sleep…” “And, you have been peeing right before bed,” Kenneth said. “So, that’s not it… Are you having bad dreams?” “No,” Dwight shook his head. “The first time it happened, I dreamed about a memory from when I was little. But, every time after that it’s just been you and me out somewhere, and I have to go very badly and find somewhere to do it right at the last second.” “Oh…” Kenneth said. He’d certainly had dreams of that nature before. In his case, they usually involved him being filled to the brim and unable to find even the tiniest bit of privacy to relieve himself in. He typically woke up and rushed to the real toilet before his dream decided to provide him with one itself. “Well… How about this; When you’re about to pee, try and make sure you’re not dreaming?” “How do I—“ “Pinch yourself,” Kenneth suggested. “Or… I don’t know, look around and think about if something is weird or out of place. Just, some indication that you’re asleep.” “I… Guess,” Dwight said. And the two changed their clothes and went back to bed. *** Even though Dwight had completely soaked the bed last night, when morning came he was aching for the restroom. He glanced towards the door and saw it was shut… He was going to have to wait. Inside the restroom, Kenneth was finishing his morning piss and mulling over Dwight’s problem. Kenneth didn’t feel he was doing such a great job supporting his friend through this. He’d been cringing, groaning and wrinkling up his nose every single time Dwight accidentally got him wet. He was trying very hard not to let it show how disgusting it made him feel to be covered in someone else’s urine, but Kenneth was never very skilled at covering up his true feelings on much of anything. The last thing Kenneth ever wanted was for Dwight to think he was disgusted by HIM. Because he really wasn’t! Dwight was not doing this on purpose, Dwight was even more upset by it every time it happened than Kenneth was… … Probably because he thought Kenneth was repulsed by him. Kenneth had seen the sadness on Dwight’s face last night when Kenneth had winced upon accidentally putting his hand in the puddle on the bed. Dwight definitely thought it was HIM Kenneth was grossed out by, and not just the acrid smell of his accident… Kenneth’s reactions were making Dwight feel awful, they were making him feel even more awful than the accidents would have made him feel on their own. Kenneth just needed to think of a way to let Dwight know that he DIDN’T think he was gross, some way to reassure him everything was still okay, even if he did have a wet bed some nights. *** Dwight paced back and forth outside the restroom, wondering what was taking Kenneth so long. He’d heard the toilet flush ages ago, he knew the other was no longer urinating. Dwight was beginning to grow impatient, and his bladder was even more fed up with waiting than he was! Dwight tried to distract himself as more and more time passed and the door stayed shut. He was pretty stuck on the previous night’s embarrassment, however. The shame at how childish it all was stuck like a thick paste to his brain. At least, if this had to be happening, it was Kenneth that he was sharing a room with. He and Kenneth really were lucky they had been assigned a room together. They’d been warned ahead of time that this was done at random and they could have ended up with anyone, but they’d gotten each other and couldn’t have been happier. If Kenneth had been assigned a different partner, Dwight was sure he would have found whoever it was irritating for one reason or another; Mostly just because they’d committed the unforgivable sin of NOT being Dwight. Not to mention, if Kenneth was sharing this room with someone else, he’d probably be limited to only emptying his bladder once that person was asleep, necessitating him holding for even more extreme lengths of time than he did now. If Dwight had been assigned a different partner, he would probably barely talk to them. Kenneth was more interesting to talk to. He could talk to Kenneth for hours about nothing at all and never get bored. Conversing with other people grew tedious fast, and he never stopped thinking ‘Oh, if Kenneth was here, HE would have said THIS…’ If Dwight had been assigned a different partner, then when he’d started to have these new nighttime… ‘issues’, he was sure that other person would have made fun of him or found him repulsive and childish. But, Kenneth didn’t do those things. Kenneth had kept telling him it was okay, and had even given him that great suggestion to help make it stop. Kenneth didn’t mock him for his problem, and didn’t think he was gross, and so long as Dwight always made sure he was awake before he peed, this problem should go away in no time at all! Speaking of peeing, the door was finally opening, and— Kenneth was… God… He’d put his uniform on… Sort of. The shirt was unbuttoned, giving Dwight a very nice view of his chest, and his pants were unzipped exposing his pubic hair and the topmost part of his shaft… Well then. Dwight squeezed his thighs together at another pang from his bladder. He wasn’t going to be emptying it any time soon; He was still asleep! “Kenneth—“ Kenneth walked up to Dwight and trailed a finger lightly down his chest. He was blushing all the way up to his ears. “The door is locked…” he said. “We have some spare time before we have to leave…” Dwight couldn’t remember any of his other bathroom emergency dreams incorporating these sorts of elements— And this very much still WAS a bathroom emergency dream! As Kenneth had been rubbing his chest, Dwight had been swaying from side to side while his bladder sent him several urgent signals; ‘Play with Kenneth after! Use the toilet now! It’s right there!’ Dwight couldn’t use the toilet, though. If he did, he’d wake up with wet sheets yet again. Besides, now Kenneth had grabbed him and was shoving him against the wall, pinning him there. Kenneth leaned in and connected their lips, flicking his tongue into Dwight’s mouth. Even though he really had to pee, Dwight was starting to think that he liked this dream. He’d tell Kenneth about it after he'd managed to wake up… He was going to blush so much, it was going to be adorable! Kenneth stuck his leg in between Dwight’s and parted them, deepening the kiss. Dwight moaned into Kenneth’s mouth, scorching heat traveling all through his body. He leaned against Kenneth’s leg, at first purely out of lust and then because he discovered how much the extra pressure helped out his still worsening bladder situation. Kenneth finally drew back after several minutes, giving Dwight one last kiss on the cheek. “I love you,” he said. “Don’t you ever think that I don’t.” Kenneth finished buttoning his shirt and zipping his pants. Dwight was disappointed to have it ending so quickly, but knew that if that had gone on much longer, he would have woken up with wet sheets even if he DIDN’T let go of his bladder! Dwight got dressed as well, turning to look at the toilet. His bladder convulsed. He so rarely left the barrack without allowing it to release first. It was confused why that wasn’t happening now. He shuffled from foot to foot, thinking about how nice it would feel to empty out… He remembered the other thing Kenneth had suggested, and reached to pinch himself on the arm lightly. Parts of this dream had been very, very nice, but he really needed to go and had to wake up now! He didn’t wake up… So, then did that mean this WASN’T a dream? No, it had to be. Kenneth didn’t flirt. He blushed and stammered and said “Y—Yes, I would like to do something with you,” whenever Dwight flirted with HIM. “Think about if something is weird or out of place,” was what Kenneth had told him. And, Kenneth FLIRTING with him was VERY weird and out of place! This definitely was a dream, so he just had to keep holding it. He’d wake up eventually, and then he’d get all the relief he needed. A little while later as he stood at his post, Dwight felt like he needed all of the relief in the world. He was shuffling his feet and twisting his hips, his toes were curling up with tension inside his boots. He couldn’t stop tugging on his belt, trying in vain to get it to rest somewhere other than atop his aching bladder. Bryce was supervising him, as usual, and noticed his squirming right away. Dwight felt himself blush every time Bryce stared at his crossed legs and tense shoulders. Even if this was a dream, the embarrassment of doing such an obvious pee-dance felt as real as could be. Dwight couldn’t believe he was having such a hard time waking up! He didn’t think he’d ever had to go THIS badly during a dream before! In all of his pee-themed dreams, he’d been bursting within an inch of his life, but this time it was starting to actually hurt! His opening was stinging and his bladder was boiling, and the pressure inside him was beginning to encompass his entire lower half. This dream was being SO mean, too! Bryce kept opening up his canteen and noisily swallowing gulps of water from it. Each time Bryce did that, Dwight’s thighs would clench even tighter. Plus, Dwight had relieved himself right here at his post loads and loads of times before, he wouldn’t be surprised if the grass in this spot got ‘watered’ more by him than by anything else. Whenever he was told he had to stand here, he’d turn around, unzip and release several times during the course of the day. His bladder was so perplexed. ‘You pee here ALL the time!’ it seemed to whine. ‘You’re allowed to go right now! Please, just do it?’ But, Dwight had to hold it. He wasn’t REALLY at his post right now, after all. He was in bed. ‘Pleaaaase wake up,’ Dwight silently begged himself. ‘I’m gonna burst…’ Again, he tried pinching himself, but again he just couldn’t seem to do it hard enough! Or, maybe it wasn’t really a dream? Dwight considered that. Ever since the thing this morning with Kenneth being overly flirtatious, everything else had been perfectly normal. Everything in his surroundings looked the same as it had every day. Bryce had greeted him with an “Alright, now stand there and be quiet, moron…” just like always. The warmth of the sun on his face felt real, the feeling of his belt squeezing the life out of his bloated bladder felt even realer than that… Maybe Kenneth had just had a reason for being so unusually forthcoming today? As he thought about it, Dwight started to hold himself tightly with both hands, whimpering as he fought to quell the still growing need within. And, a moment after he started doing that, he received an indication that he was indeed in a dream, just one that was doing its best to seem as real as possible so that it could trick him! Because, the REAL Bryce would never have such a concerned, caring look on his face! The REAL Bryce would never look at him as he squirmed around and wrinkle his brow in such a worried way. The REAL Bryce would absolutely never EVER say something like, “Um… Smith. I… I know I always give you shit for pissing out here all the time, but you understand I’m just teasing, right? I don’t actually care if you do that, it’s not a big deal. You can go if you need to.” This was a dream, Dwight was sure of it. There was no other explanation. Kenneth was not flirty and open. Bryce was not kind and compassionate. And, therefor, Dwight was NOT awake. “I’m fine,” Dwight told Bryce. “I can wait.” Bryce gave him an odd look. “Smith, seriously, I don’t care if you pee in the grass.” Bryce had always thought Dwight was an odd fellow— He was glued to Kenneth of ALL people 24/7 and ate cupcakes with black olives on them, for God’s sake— but THIS was something he couldn’t grasp at all. He knew Dwight HATED holding his bladder for any real length of time, he always bitched and moaned and whined up a storm whenever he was made to wait, he could think of no reason that Dwight would CHOOSE to restrain himself when he didn’t have to. He also knew Dwight was the furthest thing from being pee shy. Dwight didn’t care one bit if someone was nearby while he urinated. Dwight was even fine with carrying on a conversation while he went. He didn’t even really mind it if someone stared and watched— Which had happened a few times since he’d chosen to relieve himself in very inappropriate places on more than one occasion. About the only time Dwight WILLINGLY held his bladder was out of solidarity with Kenneth. If they were both bursting and Kenneth was in a place that he couldn’t empty his bladder, then Dwight would make himself wait alongside him— He thought it would just be cruel to go when his friend had to keep suffering. Was something like that happening now? Had Kenneth not been able to go this morning for some reason? “Is… Is Paulson okay?” Bryce asked. And THAT was just more proof that Dwight was dreaming! Bryce was being nice to him AND to Kenneth when he had no reason to be? That wasn’t possible within the realm of reality. “H—He’s fine,” Dwight said. “He’s not…” Bryce struggled to come up with the right way to phrase his question. “Was… Was he able to ‘go’ this morning?” Of course Bryce was asking about that! Dwight was stuck in a dream that was trying as hard as it could to make him pee his bed, after all! Of course it would make the people he encountered talk to him about urinating! Of course it would! “Y—Yes,” Dwight said. “He went after he got up, just like always.” So, that WASN’T the problem, then? Bryce couldn’t think of anything else it COULD be! Was Dwight just randomly feeling a little shy himself all of the sudden? That… Didn’t make very much sense considering how, as far as Bryce knew, Dwight’s bladder had never had even the tiniest bout of stage fright before… “Um… If you want me to turn around, I can do that for you,” Bryce said. It felt very strange to be making such an offer to Dwight, someone whom had whipped it out and begun voiding his bladder right in front of him with almost zero warning so many times before. Dwight shook his head. Wow, this dream was really pulling out all the stops! “That’s okay, Bryce. You don’t have to. I can hold it.” Bryce kept staring at him. Dwight’s legs were wrapped around each other in such a horrendously tight knot, it actually kind of shocked Bryce that human limbs could bend that way at all! One of Dwight’s hands was gripping his dick so firmly that it made Bryce wince, and his other hand was frantically pulling on his belt, all while he jiggled up and down. ‘Holding it’ did not appear to be something Dwight was capable of at the moment. “Dwight, I would really prefer it if you didn’t urinate in your uniform today. What the Hell are you doing?” Well… Now he sounded a little more like the real Bryce… Probably just the dream trying to ease him back into a false sense of security! “Nothing,” Dwight insisted. “I just… Don’t have to go that bad right now. I can hold it.” Bryce’s eyes narrowed to slits as he gazed at all the twisting and shaking Dwight was doing. “Really.” “Y—Yes,” Dwight said. He could hold it, because he HAD to hold it, because he did NOT want to pee his bed again! He just… SO wished that he could wake the Hell up! His bladder felt like it was being scrunched up in a gorilla’s fist! The pressure was so immense that he could barely keep himself upright. He kept feeling on the verge of collapsing to his knees, unleashing his typhoon as he fell! “Ohhh…” he moaned softly. “Gotta goooo…” “Then go!” Bryce said. “Jeez, what’s the matter with you?!” He ran a hand through his curly hair, agitated. At least, when Kenneth was squirming with obvious need and refused to just take a freaking piss, Bryce could be reasonably certain of what was going through the guy’s head, but this… Dwight wasn’t feeling shy, he wasn’t making himself hold it for Kenneth’s sake, he… Bryce’s eyes widened once more and his face flushed. ‘Maybe he is… Erm… Hurt "down there"? Urinating is causing him pain, so he is trying not to do it? Is that it?’ Bryce wondered. “Dwight… Uh…” He never liked asking after his subordinates health, especially not when it involved THOSE parts… “Is the problem… Does it hurt you to go right now? Is that why you don’t want to?” Dwight shook his head. It didn’t hurt him to pee at all! It felt really good to pee! It WOULD feel really, REALLY good to pee right now, and he just wished that he could do it! As if to confirm with him that urinating was absolutely not painful, his bladder suffered a wicked, awful spasm and the first spurt of his ocean trickled warmly between his legs. “Ah—!” he gasped, doubling over even more, clutching and squeezing with all his might. Bryce sighed. “I— I know it’s SUPER embarrassing to have a problem… ‘there’, but if you need medical attention—“ “That’s— No, I’m fine!” Dwight repeated, each insistence sounded more ridiculous than the last as his body shook and shivered with more and more involuntary contortions. Bryce wanted to run to the nearest tree and begin bashing his head against it. “Okay!” he snapped. “Is… Is this some kind of ridiculous bet you’ve made with Kenneth, then? You want to see if you can hold it as long as he can?” Dwight, again, shook his head. He would never do something so stupid, that was something Bryce would do! Dwight only ever held it when he HAD to hold it! Like now, when he knew that letting it out would grant him a sopping wet bed! “Well… It is time for your mid-day break, anyway,” Bryce said finally. “You may go ANYWHERE you want now. And, I HOPE you choose to visit a restroom during that time.” Dwight nodded, his brain unwillingly filling itself with a list of all the places he could go to take a leak right now. He could go back to the barrack if he wanted a lot of peace and quiet while he went… He could use one of the restrooms scattered throughout the area, one of them surely had an available toilet or urinal for him to use… He could go on one of the trees, or behind a bush… He could just go RIGHT where he was standing too, even! But, he knew the reality was that he couldn’t go in ANY of those places. Not until after he’d woken up! He… WAS asleep, wasn’t he? Bryce had stopped with all his uncharacteristic niceness after a while as he’d grown more irritated. And, in dreams, time usually moved a LOT faster, but his break didn’t feel like it had come any earlier than it was supposed to. Except… Time ALWAYS felt like it moved really slow when he had to use the restroom urgently. It was very, very hard for him to walk now. Every step made a scorching sting ripple through his urethra, like it was being lit ablaze by the pressure knocking against it. As he walked, his hands stayed glued against his cock. Some of the guards he passed were staring at his obvious show of desperation, but he didn’t care. This was just a dream, and so he wasn’t embarrassing himself for real. One guard he didn’t recognize even approached him. “Um… Hello,” he said awkwardly. “Were you just transferred here? Did no one tell you where the restrooms are?” Dwight shook his head. “I… Um… I know, I was just heading there,” he lied. If he saw a toilet right now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from using it, and then it would be all over. “Okay…” the other guard said as Dwight kept walking. Dwight had to find Kenneth, he decided. Kenneth would make him wake up somehow! Kenneth’s break time came around now too, he thought. And, when Kenneth got a break, the very first thing he always did was rush back to the barrack and relieve his bladder. Dwight turned and headed in that direction, hoping that his dream wouldn’t subject him to a vision of Kenneth urinating when he got there. If he had to see Kenneth go, had to hear him moaning as it poured out of him even just in a dream, he’d explode. Dwight trudged and trudged along, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours, and then when he neared the barrack, he saw his friend. He picked up the pace and hurried over to him. Kenneth removed the hand he’d been chewing on from his mouth, indicating to Dwight that he really DID have to get back to their room soon! Dwight felt bad for keeping Kenneth from the toilet, even if THIS Kenneth was just a product of his imagination. Kenneth was staring at Dwight now, eyes locked onto his friend’s blatant, intense pee-dance. “D—Did they make a new rule that you’re not allowed to go at your post anymore?” he guessed. “No,” Dwight said. “Kenneth, I need you to wake me up!” Kenneth shifted his weight around. His morning pee felt like it had been way, WAY too long ago right now, and he did NOT have the time to try and make sense of whatever the heck Dwight had just said. “Um… I really have to—“ “I know,” Dwight interrupted. “I do too! I’ve got to pee SO badly right now, Kenneth! I can’t hold it!” Kenneth hunched his shoulders and returned his pinky to his mouth, chewing away on it as his face became engulfed in flames. “M—Must you be so loud?” he asked. Several of their fellow guards were also on their breaks right now, many of them walking nearby and hearing Dwight whine about his exploding bladder, inadvertently drawing attention to BOTH of their needs. “W—We can go back to our room, okay? Yes. Going back to our room would be good right now…” in agreement, his bladder sent him a particularly hot, sharp twinge and he jumped on his heels. He lowered his voice even more, “We can go together, alright? Dwight, please? You know I’ve been… Waiting a long while, I—“ “I can’t go!” Dwight complained loudly. “Wha— Why not?” Kenneth asked, suddenly concerned. “You are not having my… proble—“ “No,” Dwight said. “I can’t go, because I know this is a dream! If I pee, I’ll wet the bed!” Kenneth plucked the hand from his mouth and fluttered it uselessly around his waist as he rocked from side to side. He wanted to grab himself really, really bad, and he needed the toilet NOW, and Dwight wasn’t making any sense! “Dwight, maybe don’t talk so loud about bed wetting? There are people…” “They’re not real, though. This is a dream.” “Oh my God—“ Kenneth groaned, his hand quickly pressing itself between his legs for a brief second before he forced it away again. “Dwight, look. I am… Exploding right now, okay? Whatever you are talking about, can it please wait?” “N—No,” Dwight said. It couldn’t wait! NOTHING could wait anymore! If Dwight didn’t wake the Hell up and PEE soon, he thought he’d die! His heart was slamming around inside his ribcage, filled with so much panic that he could NOT understand why that alone hadn’t woken him! “Kenneth, please?” he begged. “Please, wake me up? Please? I need to pee, I need to pee so much!” “So do I!” Kenneth hissed sharply. “You are not asleep, you idiot! You are awake! If this was a dream, I wouldn’t really BE here and that would mean I wouldn’t be able to FEEL the freaking LAKE inside of me right now!” “I— I know I’m asleep,” Dwight said. “This has to be a dream.” “WHY do you think you are dreaming?” “B—Because of this morning!” Dwight said. “When you had your shirt all undone and started to kis—“ “OH MY GOD!” Kenneth’s voice finally raised itself above a whisper as, in a total panic, he pressed a hand over Dwight’s mouth. “Shhhh!” The sheer fear in Kenneth’s chest managed to overpower even the pressure inside his bladder. His voice fell several octaves, until he was speaking so quietly that Dwight could barely hear. “Are you a moron? Someone could hear you!” Shakily, he released his hand from Dwight’s mouth, grabbed one of his arms in a vice grip, and tugged him inside the barrack. Once in their room, Kenneth lost it. Everything was forgotten now, Dwight’s apparent belief that he was stuck in a dream, Dwight’s bladder emergency, Hell, even his OWN need for the toilet. All of it was gone, replaced by nerves. “What were you THINKING?” he demanded. “Talking about THAT where ANYONE could hear you!?” “But—“ “Dwight, we can NOT let anyone find out,” Kenneth said. “I know, but—“ “So, why in the HELL would you mention THIS morning while we are OUTSIDE?” “I…” Dwight sunk his teeth into his lip. He felt warmth collecting against his palms. He’d been steadily leaking small drops of urine ever since Kenneth had slapped his hand over his mouth. He couldn’t make them stop coming out. His bladder was full. Completely. No room left inside it at all. And he was starting to think he wasn’t actually dreaming. And, instead of feeling relieved, he felt terrible. He’d very nearly done something that he wouldn’t be able to fix, something that he wouldn’t be able to take back. “I just… I thought this was a dream. B—Because, when you did all that, when you showed so much skin for me and kissed me like that… I thought… I thought that was just too good to be true.” Some of Kenneth’s anger dissipated. “Dwight… Uh… Do you… Dream about me doing those things often?” Dwight nodded. “All of the time. Those are my favorite dreams. And, you DON’T act all open and amorous like that in real life. Ever. So…” “… Oh,” Kenneth said. “So, because of that, you thought you shouldn’t… Have you gone at all today?” Dwight shook his head. “I didn’t go this morning, and I didn’t go at my post, and so now I have to go really, really bad!” “Well, you can go now,” Kenneth said. “Please? I really need need it too, remember?” “O—Okay,” Dwight said, finally unclasping the belt that had been driving him crazy all day. “You want to go together?” “I think we have to,” Kenneth said. “And, it’s fine. It’s just you.” Kenneth checked that the door to their room was locked, and the two headed into the restroom. Dwight got himself out first, immediately releasing his poor, tortured bladder. His dripping transformed into spraying, and it felt wonderful. The spontaneous drop in pressure he felt take place within his body made him shiver with pleasure as a slow exhale breezed out of his nose. “Nnnh,” Kenneth whimpered at the hiss of Dwight’s stream, still fighting with his own buttons. Once they were out of the way and his zipper had come down, he joined his friend and let go of his stream. “Ahhhh….” he smiled contentedly as it poured out of him. After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, his eyes slid over to Dwight, “You know, you really are a moron sometimes,” he said. “I… I know,” Dwight said. He felt like an idiot. After pinching himself so many times and still not waking up, he really ought to have taken the hint… But, even though he felt like an idiot, in this moment he felt like an INCREDIBLY relieved one. All the throbbing that had been pounding at his opening now felt pleasant as buckets of pee were dumped through it. “But…” Kenneth paused as a shiver ripped up and down his spine. “Ahhh… But, I am so happy that you are MY moron,” he said. “If… If anything had to trick you into thinking you were asleep. I’m glad it was… You know. That.” For the first time in their lives, in spite of starting his stream second, Kenneth actually finished first. This was a massive surprise to him, and it made his chest clench as he imagined how desperate Dwight must have been feeling if he was able to pee for longer than him for once. “Wow…” he said as he zipped up. “You had to go…” Dwight was usually the one stunned by the capacity of Kenneth’s bladder and, in a weird way, it made him feel good that Kenneth was impressed by his own today. “I barely made it. I mean, I went a lot in my pants,” he admitted. “That’s okay, you can change if you have to,” Kenneth said. Dwight finally finished and zipped up. “Ah! MUCH better!” he said. Kenneth laughed slightly, “I hope so…” He looked down at his feet. “Erm… We have some more time left in our break… Uh… Can you tell me some other stuff you have dreams about me doing?”
    1 point
  45. 2FMHT204

    From the album: Fill-Me: Chapter 2

    1 point
  46. What happens next: The next morning I wake, my head instantly reminding me of how much I drank the night before and my hard on reminding me of my erotic dreams about Rosie. I let her go home herself. It was the right thing to do but even as we physically parted she lived on in my body and mind all night long. Now I need coffee, I need to cum and I need to piss. I decide to start with the coffee and head straight to my kitchen. Filling the kettle and putting instant coffee in a mug seems to make my dick calm quickly and I have to run like Usain Bolt to the bathroom only just making it in time. Was this how bloody amazing it felt for Rosie when she peed last night at my cousin’s house? There really isn’t any other feeling like it I think as I wash my hands and head back to make my coffee at last. I should text her or is that too keen? It was just one night. What if she can’t even remember it like I can? She gave me her number though…that has to mean something right? I spend the rest of the morning and afternoon trying to shake my hangover away and replaying the events of the night before over and over. Finally, just as I’m making dinner, Isla texts me to say thanks for coming and thanks for her gift. She must have finally opened everything after getting too carried away with the karaoke at the end. Well the karaoke and the man who had his arms around her neck by that time. I can’t help wondering if he stayed the night or not. Not my business really but I still feel more than a little protective of her. I text her back saying it was a great night and worth the years delay with a smiley emoji. I expect she’s texted a huge amount of those who came last night, which would be just like her, but she texts back again with something that makes me smile but get excited too. “Apparently Rosie had a gr8 nite too! 😉” That decides it for me right away and I swallow my embarrassment and decide to text Rosie. I keep it as cool and causal as I can to begin with but then lose myself far too quickly. “Hi, was lovely to meet you last night at the party. Hope you had a good night? I sure did. Fancy a coffee sometime? Or even dinner? Riley x” I feel like a teenager all over again! She keeps me hanging for a while, the entire time it takes me to finish cooking tea and eat it AND watch something on TV. I am half way through the washing up when finally I get a text back. Just three words (excluding her name) but I still blush and smile like I have just read that my lottery numbers have won! “Yes to both, Rosie x” I presume she works so set up an evening meal date but keep it to a family restaurant near my home just so she feels safe and hopefully relaxed. If things don’t go any further then we can both go back home without too much issue. Monday I keep myself so busy at work to pass the time but as soon as mid afternoon starts creeping up I can feel my nerves kicking in. By the time I get to the restaurant and sit at the table I booked my hands are sweating and my mind racing. What if she changes her mind? What might she be wearing this time? Will I still fancy her when she’s not dancing around in front of me needing to pee? That all disappears instantly when she walks in and our eyes meet. Tonight she’s in a stunning fitted flowery dress that shows off her body beautifully with bare legs and the same black high heeled strap around her ankles sandals she wore to the party. She has this cute shawl around her shoulders too meaning I can’t quite see from where she’s standing if her dress hangs off her shoulders or not but either way she’s hell of an attractive lady and although her hair tonight isn’t in that sexy clip she has it tied back again and still has those wonderful little strands by the side of her face that I adore so much. The waiter shows her to the table and I quickly pull her chair out for her like a true gentleman. I give her a quick peck on the cheek then sit down again smiling. She’s here, she’s beautiful and she’s already looking at the drinks menu! She shyly asks if I mind if she sticks to nonalcoholic drinks as it’s a work night and her cute blushing is so adorable I don’t mind at all. I order two large lemonades and ask about her day. It seems a safe starting point but by the time we have ordered and began eating our starters we have already moved onto other things easily. We agree on a sharing starter and there’s more than a few flirtatious looks and comments between us as we tuck into the salad and chicken wings and potato skins. We talk so much that by the time we order the main course the waiter offers us both more drinks and our empty glasses are taken and replaced by fresh full ones with more lemonade again. The food is lovely but the company even better and by the time we’ve finished eating our main course I know already that I want to spend even more time with Rosie. The question is where is best to do this? It’s early days still and I don’t want to rush her but we can’t stay here all night and when I put my cutlery down and finish my glass of lemonade I smile at Rosie as she finishes her second large glass too and moves in her seat. Neither of us have moved away once so far and I could do with a bathroom break and I now suspect she could too. Just that little change of position she does in her seat makes me blush thinking back to Isla’s party on Saturday and I wonder if Rosie might consider not using the bathrooms here and waiting just a little bit longer? “I don’t know about you Riley but I’m so full now.” She rubs her tummy wriggling a little and I can’t help thinking does she mean her stomach or her bladder is full, or both? “Definitely. Me too. Though I’d still like to enjoy your company a bit longer…if you’d like that too?” She looks over in the distance a bit before giving me eye contact and smiling. Is she looking for the ladies perhaps? I don’t blame her as I could really do with a good piss myself but I just don’t want to leave Rosie, not even for a minute! “That sounds good. Really good in fact. Actually a friend of mine is performing live tonight at the Horse and Cart on Beecroft Road. He’s really good though not sure if it’s your sort of thing or not?” “My sort of thing?”, I enquire raising my eyebrows curiously. “He plays the piano and sings. Sort of covers and ballads and that sort of stuff. Sort of sing along stuff more than dancing if you know what I mean?” “Sounds lovely. Since I’ve only been on the still stuff we could maybe go in my car if you’d like? I only stay just around the corner from here. Save waiting on a taxi?” Rosie does that glancing off to the distance thing again and I wonder what she’s maybe thinking about but then she smiles and twirls one of those dangling strands of her hair and blushes and nods at me. I link my arm in hers, leave cash on the table to cover the bill and a tip, and walk her out the restaurant towards my house. As soon as the cooler weather hits me I wish I had gone to the bathroom before leaving but with my house close by I clench my muscles and decide to not say anything. Rosie seems quieter too so I check she’s still ok as I see my car outside my house. “Everything alright? If you’d rather call it a night I don’t mind taking you home if you’d prefer?” “No. No. It’s not that I don’t want to go to the pub it’s just…that was rather a lot of lemonade I drank. Those were pretty big glasses and…” I’m sweating now, sure of what she’s about to say and immediately feeling I should offer to let her use my facilities, especially as I really need to use them too. It’s not that I don’t want her to pee, absolutely not, and the thought of it reminds me so much of the party, but inviting her into my house on the first proper date feels a bit…full on? Like I’m almost asking her to stay the night? I don’t want her feeling I’m pushing her even though I would happily go further if she agreed. “Would you prefer to come into mine? For a coffee before we go out? I’ve just realised I’ve left the car keys in the key box in my hall anyway. And…” “I’d love that Riley. Thanks” She moves from foot to foot as I put the house key in the lock and the noise of those sandals of hers on my concrete stairs outside sends shivers right through me. I can feel myself getting harder which isn’t great in my smart trousers because it’s very noticeable but it does at least help stave off that feeling of dying for a piss that I’ve been struggling with for the last twenty minutes or so. I step in, taking Rosie’s hand and helping her over the upvc door base that always trips me up when I’ve been drinking. My house isn’t big in any way and there’s just the one bathroom upstairs with the living room with integrated kitchen area downstairs. Despite really needing to pee I feel I need to be hospitable and at least start making coffee before running off so I show Rosie to an armchair and fill the kettle and switch it on all the time watching her from behind. She’s sitting upright on the armchair leaning forward with her legs crossed at the ankle. She looks awkward and tense so I offer to put some music on. “How about some music? Radio 1 ok?” Rosie nods as I switch on the radio then go over towards her to sit on the arm of the armchair and put my arm around her as I can’t help singing along to what’s filling the room. Thankfully Rosie is just as taken with the song and it’s as obvious to me that she’s just as much a fan of Disney as I am as we look at each other singing happily to the words of Surface Pressure from Encanto and I can’t help but notice her hand on her upper thigh as she fidgets in the armchair beside me wriggling and bouncing to the chorus, ‘pressure like a drip drip drip that’ll never stop whoa, pressure that’ll tip, tip, tip ‘til it’s ready to blow whoa-oh-oh….who am I if I don’t have what it takes? No cracks, no breaks…” We’re so caught up in the moment I forget all about the coffee and tea and the fact we’re meant to be going out in the car as I smile and gaze so much at Rosie and comment on her beautiful singing. I’m convinced, once again, that the words of the song have a double meaning for her and that she’s feeling a huge amount of pressure from her bladder but I don’t want to embarrass her in any way by pushing the matter but if she asks to use my toilet, which as soon as my own boner dies down I’ll be using myself, then of course I’ll let her go. But until she mentions it there’s no harm in enjoying things is there? I kiss her as the next song plays after a very brief intro from the DJ. Rosie’s lips are sweet and soft and special and very enticing and I have to lean on my elbow to stop myself falling on top of her on the armchair. As we finally pull up for a breather I suddenly remember the kettle and ask Rosie if she’d like tea or coffee. I notice her look around the room first, probably searching for any sign of a downstairs loo, which sadly I don’t have, but she agrees to a tea and I go to make it behind her as the song currently playing ends and I’m walking towards Rosie with two mugs when my eyes bulge seeing Rosie remove her shawl to reveal that her dress is actually strapless and very fitted and low across her chest. I sit the drinks down on a table, sit back on my two seater couch and tap beside me for Rosie to join me as the next song begins and I hold her hand looking right at her mouthing the words as if I am singing right to her. I couldn’t put it any better than Rudimental’s ‘Waiting all night’ as Rosie bounces her legs beside me and squirms very obviously as I sing to her, “I’ve been waiting all night for you to tell me what you want, Tell me, tell me that you need me, I’ve been waiting all night for you to Oh oh tell me what you want yeah…” The song lyrics seems to repeat over and over as her movements intensify as her eyes glaze and her cheeks redden. There’s such a sexual tension between us that I know we both feel added and enhanced incredibly by the fact I know she’s really really bursting to wee and holding it in, because, like me I hope, she doesn’t want to break the bond that’s building quickly between us. One thing I do know is that if I was to tell her what I wanted and needed right now it would be rated 18 and over and not likely to be played on radio 1 any time soon either! My own heart is now beating furiously, my dick throbbing in my trousers and my mouth dry from singing and nerves as the song finally finishes and I notice Rosie’s hand has crept from her thigh more towards her crotch as her eyes water a little and she tries to say something that I don’t quite hear over the radio. I use the remote to turn the music down as I look at Rosie expectantly and ask her to repeat what she said. “Do you really want to know what I want Riley?” She’s a little giggly and shy again, her cheeks flushed and her forehead slightly sweaty. “May I guess?” She smiles and squirms beside me and that hand that was on her crotch seems to press a little firmer on her dress. I could easily make her wait longer messing with her suggesting answers such as the tea I have just made her, or to kiss again or go even further, but that feels a little cruel and she’s already driven me crazy with desire with all her squirming and fidgeting so I lean towards her and whisper seductively in her ear as clear as I can over the radio still playing (albeit a little quieter than earlier): “Are you bursting for the toilet sweetheart?” She nods, giggly shyly. “Very much so.” I take her by the hand and we race upstairs, my mind a whirl and my body yearning for so much more. I push open my bathroom door and point, smiling, blushing and looking right at Rosie. “Emmm. Riley….could you help me? This dress is hard to lift up without it ripping. It would be better if you could unzip me…if that’s ok?” She’s marching on the spot right in front of me, her moans sending me to a place of no return. Unzip her? Fucking hell she may as well ask me to fuck her…it’s like the party all over again, except this time there’s definitely no-one who might walk in on us, no-one in the house apart from us. “Please…I’m dying to wee here!” With my hands shaking I do as she asks knowing I really should shut the door and give her privacy but frozen to the spot in utter amazement and shock as she lets her dress fall right off her body leaving it lying at my feet and runs to the loo with a hand wedged over her knickers as I stare at her naked breasts and nipples as she sits on the toilet right in front of me for the second time in a week and I watch as this absolute babe pulls down her knickers right in front of me and lets loose a torrent of urine flow that makes my mouth open in shock. “Oh God this feels so much better! I’ve been holding this in since the restaurant and..God it’s like…it’s like…oh the release…oh…” She seems to shiver, gasp, moan… “You ok?” Her pee is loud and furious and long and… “It’s like a fucking orgasm! That’s what this is like Riley…so fucking incredible to be finally letting this out after holding so long…” I can’t take my eyes off her, my own body shaking in need too…not a need to piss, although I know the second I’ve cum that will return stronger than ever, but a need right now to have Rosie, to make love to her, to show her another orgasm every bit as good as what she’s feeling right now, in fact hopefully better. I can’t contain myself any longer. I can’t resist. I stride up to Rosie as she sits totally naked on my toilet, other than those amazing heeled black strapped sandals, still peeing ferociously and loudly. I bend down onto my knees and kiss her deeply, my hands exploring her breasts and nipples, her neck, her back, her hair as she continues to pee throughout. I kiss her neck and she giggles telling me I’ve found a place she clearly likes. I whisper in her ear as little dribbles of urine still drip from her vagina into my toilet… “Was it really like an orgasm? You sure about that? Want to test that theory?” She’s finally stopped peeing as I take her hand, stand up and help her do the same. Her nipples are so erect, her breasts round and gorgeous right in front of my face, her hair not anything like as perfect as it was at the start of the night but sexy and enticing more than ever. She reaches automatically for some loo roll as I pull her hand away gently. “Don’t worry about that babe. A few stray dribbles won’t bother me…” She giggles pulling my belt undone and tugging my trousers and trunks down feeling down my legs as she does so. I know her actions say so much but just to be sure I cup her chin in my hands and look at her face carefully. “You ok to carry on?” “More than ever Riley. More than ever.” She did orgasm, as did I of course. Immediately after, as I predicted, I had to rush out and piss. I hated leaning Rosie but she’d have been drowned in a huge puddle of urine if I hadn’t! Then as I finish and flush the toilet I almost jump out my skin at the voice behind me as Rosie’s voice sent shivers up my spine yet again. “Did you hold all that in for me baby? God you must have seriously had to go!” As I wash my hands and dry them I turn and look at her standing in my bathroom doorway completely naked looking right at me. “I was needing to go bad in the restaurant but once we got back here I was so turned on I couldn’t go. So I suppose I did hold that in for you, yes.” “Where you turned on that I had to go?” “So much sweetheart. So much.” “I like that you know. Maybe I’ll have to go bad again on our next date too.” “Now that would be wonderful…both you needing to go and another date with you. Rosie…you do know you are beautiful don’t you?” “Is that with or without a full bladder?” She’s winking and giggling and I fling my arms around her for a hug before we finally get that mug of tea and I drive her home. Our dates have just got better and better ever since. I’ve actually never been so glad to have met someone at a party ever in my life. Ah Rosie…she’s more than I ever dreamed possible in so many ways.
    1 point
  47. Yeah, I have gotten a few brands of the pull up kind (seems to be the only kind they have) and they don't seem to have any good coverage for the pad. I remember trying a Depend pull-up and I was a bit excited and pretty much just ended up "going" over the padding into the fabricky type part which just leaked through. I tried one or two other brands (pretty much all that they had) and they all pretty much were the same type of thing. Interestingly enough, I have even tried a few of the "women's" versions to find similar padding, though some have it just in the area one might expect. I'm definitely in the closet about this and I am certainly not ready to order something online and I don't know of any medical stores anywhere near me where I could get something better. I guess my best tip for you is to find out what works best for you and when in doubt, put one of those bed pads or at least a towel or two down below you to minimize any damage from any accidents while you have your "accidents". Incidentally, I'm still kinda looking for something I can use without it leaking. Maybe I should also consider one of those underwear liner type pads to see how those hold up too, or maybe protection over protection.
    1 point
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