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mycatisdumb

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    he/him

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    Bathroom Control

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  1. (This one is short because I'm sick and lazy, sorry!) Day 3: On Public Transportation Matthew typically considered himself to be around average intelligence—he was certainly no genius, but (most of the time) he wasn’t massively stupid either. Right then, though, sitting on the train with his legs crossed tight, he felt like the biggest dumbest idiot in the world. He should’ve gone in the morning, but he hadn’t because Kaleb had been in the bathroom and he was already late to work enough of the time. He should’ve gone at work, but he’d been kept busy most of the day. He shouldn’t have drank all that free coffee, but he was a dumbass and wasn’t thinking. Shoulda woulda coulda—a fat lot of good it did him now to think about this. He bounced his leg rapidly, his heart pounding. It didn’t matter why he was in this situation, really—what mattered was that he was in very real danger of pissing himself on the train. He was glad the train car was mostly empty so he could squirm without being stared at. He pressed his thighs together as tight as he could and clenched his teeth so hard he thought they’d snap off. Nothing was helping. His bladder felt hot and heavy, pulsing with need, filled to the absolute brim. It was beginning to advance from discomfort into actual pain. He knew he didn’t have much time left. Frantically he ran through every option in his mind—which didn’t take very long because he had one option, and that was it. He had to try to hold it. What’s Kaleb gonna think if I show up back home in wet pants? he asked himself dismally. I’m gonna look like such a child. His heart thudded hard against his ribs, his mouth dry. He was going to wet himself, he was sure of it now. It was only a matter of time. Why hadn’t he just used the bathroom before he left work? It would’ve been so easy, but for some stupid reason he’d thought he could wait. Well, you can’t, idiot, he thought to himself. He groaned softly, his whole lower body throbbing. He could feel his pulse in his bladder. He closed his eyes, focusing every ounce of his energy on squeezing his poor exhausted muscles. Fuck. The first spurt escaped unexpectedly. One second he was holding it just fine and the next—he gasped, writhing in his seat, but it was no use. Another dribble of pee trickled into his boxers, then another. Fuck fuck fuck please no. He could feel the dampness now. For a few seconds he thought he might be able to stop it. An irrational bit of hope rose up within him—maybe he could still hold it until he got home. Then the dam broke and he was pissing. It gushed out of him, hissing loudly, spilling over the edge of the plastic seats, soaking into his pants. In the back of his mind, he was glad his pants were black—perhaps it would help him hide this, especially in the darkness outside. He leaned his head back, eyes still shut, and let cool relief overcome his body. It poured over him in waves as his tired bladder finally released its contents. By the time he was finished there was a sizable puddle around his feet. He was sure the other passengers must’ve noticed, but thankfully no one said anything to him. He reached his stop just a few minutes too late. Sighing deeply, he got up and squelched his way off of the train. His pants clung to his body, completely drenched in warm piss. He took off his jacket and tied it around his waist in an attempt to hide what he’d done, though he doubted it’d do much—there were streaks of piss all down his pants, glistening under the streetlights. The short walk home felt like an eternity. When he finally arrived, he took a deep breath before opening the door. As always, Kaleb came bounding to the door to greet him. When he saw Matthew’s expression, though, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes moved over Matthew’s body down to his wet pants. “Oh my god,” Kaleb said. “Are—are you okay? What happened?” “Long story,” Matthew said. “But yeah, I’m fine. Just need a shower.” He wasn’t sure it was entirely true that he was fine—he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. But Kaleb nodded and then ran up and hugged him, even though he had to know it’d get him wet, and after a second of hesitance Matthew hugged back. Maybe he would be okay after all.
  2. (OK! Day 2 done! Important note about this one: the characters aren't human and their species is able to hold it longer than humans can. Please don't try this at home lol.) Day 2: Peeing While Someone Watches Castiel wasn’t sure how he’d gotten himself into this mess. It had started two days ago—no, three, he thought; his mind was too fuzzy to recall exactly. As he stood outside the bathroom door, so close to relief but unable to access it, against his will his mind began running through everything that had brought him to this point. He had last used the restroom here, in this house, nearly three—he was certain of it now—days ago. That seemed to him an awfully long time; though he was sure people had held it longer, it was beyond what he would have expected of his own capacity. Then again, he had never enjoyed going to the bathroom in public spaces, which was, of course, the reason he found himself here, dying to go—he supposed it made some sense for his bladder to be large. Still, this was too much even for him. His most recent trip to the restroom had been just before he had left for his business trip. He had used the bathroom, then kissed Ethan goodbye and headed out the front door, suitcase in hand. After that… Ugh. He tried desperately to think of something else, but he was far beyond the point where that was a possibility. After that he had gotten on that damn bus. If only the bus had had a bathroom on it, all his problems might have been solved. But it hadn’t. Their first stop had been to eat lunch, and Castiel, not thinking of his bladder—as indeed most people would not have been at that point—had gulped down several glasses of water. It was summer and hot, and even the short walk from the bus to the cafe had sweat rolling down his back and soaking into his shirt. Back in the present, he whimpered and squeezed himself tighter, if that were possible—thinking about anything liquid was a bad idea. What had happened next? He could hardly remember; it felt an entire eternity away. He had gotten back on the bus, and they had kept driving. He had felt the urge to go then, needling at him, but had ignored it. He had assumed that the hotel they’d be staying at would have private restrooms. This was one of many mistakes he had made. By the time they had eaten dinner, he had been shifting in his seat every once in a while, his bladder making itself known more and more. Still, he had not hesitated to drink more water. Had he known what awaited him at the hotel, he would have been smarter about his liquid intake. It was useless to beat himself up over it now, but standing there, doubled over, his bladder bulging grotesquely from his abdomen, he hated himself worse than ever. Because of course, the hotel didn't have private restrooms. There was one bathroom for the entire floor to use. Had he been a regular person, he would have used it—but as he was, debilitated by his social anxiety, he couldn’t bring himself to. He had retreated to his room and laid down in bed, squirming beneath the sheets till he finally fell into a fitful sleep. By the time he awoke the next morning there was a noticeable swell beneath his hip bones. It only continued to grow over the course of the day. He thanked God that the conference he was attending did not require him, specifically, to speak; by the time it was over he was in constant movement and doubted he could’ve kept the strain from his voice. He and his colleagues had eaten dinner before retiring to the hotel for the night. This time he had used his dumb little brain and had refrained from consuming too much water, but he was still thirsty from the heat and, despite subtly squirming in his chair the entire meal, had ended up sipping at his glass enough to drain it twice. This was around when he got the very stupid idea to hold it until he got home. It’s only one more day, he had thought. I’ve waited this long. Surely I can wait a little longer. His bladder had already started to ache then. The second he closed the door of his room behind him he was grabbing himself like a child, stepping from foot to foot, the swell of his bladder now visible beneath his shirt if one were to look closely. Despite knowing no one could see him, his face burned with shame. He was an adult—he should have been able to hold it as long as was required without debasing himself by doing a pee dance, right? But oh, did he ever have to go. He had laid himself down in bed, but had been unable to get more than an hour of nonconsecutive sleep. Sleeping in an unfamiliar bed was difficult enough for him in the best of times; with a full bladder it was nigh impossible. His squirming turned to writhing as the pressure in his bladder grew and grew, rapidly becoming legitimately painful. He kept his eyes fixed on the window in front of him, staring up at the cold and uncaring stars as if they would somehow distract him from his need. They didn’t, of course. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon he was frantic, unable to keep still, his bladder a heavy throbbing weight in his abdomen. His hands clutched at the sheets, occasionally giving himself a squeeze when he was unable to take the pressure any longer. Holding himself helped minutely. He knew the only true relief he would get would be giving up and using the bathroom, but he was stupid and stubborn and too horribly nervous—what if the restroom was dirty? What if the door didn’t lock properly and someone came in? What if he caught some disease just from setting foot in the bathroom? It was better to just wait, he told himself. Before leaving his room he squeezed his crotch as tightly as he could. It was probably mainly psychological, but it gave him some assurance that he would be able to hold it. Then he took his briefcase and headed out to the bus. Today he would make the long bus ride home, and at last he would be able to use the restroom. At the thought, his bladder contracted, and he clenched every muscle in his body, his urethra stinging as he forced himself to contain the liters of liquid filling him up. It left him gasping for air, standing just outside his room, thanking God there was no one around to witness his humiliating display of need. He and his colleagues got onto the bus. He narrowly avoided one starting a conversation with him—there was no way he would’ve been able to divide his attention between talking and holding his bladder. Thankfully, mumbling some excuse about not having slept well was sufficient to get everybody off his back. He made his way slowly to the back of the bus and sat down, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the coolness of the window as his bladder pulsed. The ride began. The hours trickled by slow as molasses, the pain in his bladder reaching a crescendo, screeching at him to please just give up and empty himself right there on the bus. Of course, he would rather have died than suffer the humiliation of that. He kept his hands firmly planted on his thighs, refusing to give in and grab himself, but was unable to stop himself from shifting in his seat, trying frantically to grind himself against it in an effort to get some modicum of relief. If anyone noticed, they did not comment, and he was too far gone to pay much attention to the reactions of those around him. Then they hit traffic. He was so focused on his need he didn’t realize until one of his coworkers made an offhanded comment about being late for dinner, and then he looked up through the front window and realized, with a sense of slowly dawning horror, that the bus had stopped. His mind went white with pain and terror. He was going to wet himself. He was going to wet himself in front of all his colleagues and there was nothing he could do about it. Either that, or his bladder was going to rupture. He didn’t know what would be worse. He had no sense of time; it could have been a minute or an hour before they started moving again. His bladder bulged so horribly that he looked almost pregnant. He prayed no one would notice, or that if they did they would at least have the good sense not to bring it up to him. He was miserable enough without the added humiliation of his coworkers worrying about him. His back hurt, his kidneys hurt, his legs hurt from pressing so tightly together. Eventually he gave in and held himself, and soon his hand started to cramp too from how hard he was clutching himself. He was in agony. He didn’t notice they had arrived until someone nudged him and said, “Castiel, isn’t this your stop?” He looked out the window and his foggy brain recognized his own home. Oh, thank God! “Ye—yes,” he stammered. “Thank you.” He forced his hand away from his crotch and staggered off the bus, unable to stand up straight. The second the bus pulled away he doubled over, gritting his teeth against the excruciating pain in his bladder, which now that he was standing was fighting the relentless pull of gravity even harder. He stumbled up to the front door and dug through his pockets for his key, holding himself with his other hand. It took him several tries to force the key into the lock. He swung open the door and managed to get inside before his legs gave way and he collapsed to his knees, the tip of his penis burning, his whole body on fire. Oh, god, he thought, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. I’m so close. I’m so close. Close to the bathroom or close to pissing himself, he wasn’t sure. He opened his eyes and forced himself to his feet. He had to keep moving. If he paused again he’d lose control for sure. He had reached the bathroom and then—stopped. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. The door was closed. The bathroom was occupied. The shower was running. Fuck. Now he arrived back in the present. The horrible sound of water sent a stab of white-hot agony through his tortured bladder and he cried out loud, both hands now gripping his crotch. He pressed his forehead to the bathroom door, tears pricking at his eyes. He had to go. He had to go now. He couldn’t wait. I’m sorry, Ethan, he thought distantly, and then opened the door. “Castiel?” came Ethan’s concerned voice from behind the shower curtain. “Hey, what’re you—?” The curtain pulled back. There stood Ethan, staring at him with a look of bewilderment. Ethan’s eyes trailed down to where his hands were locked on his crotch, then back up to the bulge of his bladder. “Oh,” Ethan said. “Oh shit, Castiel.” “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I can’t—I can’t—” “Holy shit,” Ethan said. “It’s fine. Just go.” He didn’t need to be told twice. In a daze, he moved to the toilet. He had to let go of himself to unzip his jeans and for a moment really thought all this would be for nothing and he would piss himself right there, but he didn’t. He pulled out his dick and positioned himself over the toilet, ready for the most incredible, dizzying relief of his life. And… nothing. “I can’t,” he cried. “It’s not—I have to go so badly but it’s not—” His bladder, whether from anxiety or simply because he had held it so ridiculously long, had locked up tight. Trying to force it was so agonizing that his mind went blank and he thought he might pass out. Then—then Ethan was there, standing next to him, still fully nude and dripping with water. “It’s okay,” Ethan said, his voice soothing. “You’re okay. Holy shit, Castiel, how long have you been waiting?” “Haven’t—haven’t gone since—” He shut his eyes. Being able to see the toilet was too much. “Since I left the house.” “Holy fuck,” Ethan said. “Are you serious?” Castiel nodded miserably, the tears finally forcing their way out and rolling down his cheeks. Everything hurt so much and he couldn’t go. Oh, God, am I going to have to go to the hospital? I’ll explode before I even get there. He felt Ethan’s hand on his back. “Honey,” Ethan said, “I love you, so much, but what the actual fuck?” “Hotel,” he gasped out. “Didn’t… didn’t have a… private restroom. I couldn’t… I just…” “It’s been almost three days,” Ethan said. “I know we can hold it longer than humans, but that’s actually insane.” “I know that,” Castiel whimpered. “I know. I’m sorry.” “No, I—I’m sorry.” Ethan’s hand began rubbing his back, and slowly his sore muscles started to relax. “I’m not trying to scold you. I’m just worried, sweetheart.” “I—ah!” Whatever he was going to say was cut off as the tiniest, most painful trickle of urine splashed into the toilet. His eyes still shut, he leaned his head back, trying to focus only on the feeling of Ethan’s hand working its way into the base of his spine. At last his body relaxed enough to go. It didn’t feel good; it hurt, badly. His whole lower body ached with a fierceness unlike anything he had ever known. He stood there for what must’ve been minutes, shaking and crying as he finally released the liters of piss he’d been holding for so fucking long. At last his stream died down. He burned with shame and pain. Even having been emptied, his bladder hardly felt any better. His knees gave out once again and he fell to the floor. He opened his eyes and looked up to see Ethan staring at him wide-eyed, his brows knitted together with concern. “Jesus,” Ethan said. “Are… you okay?” He shook his head, hot tears flowing freely down his face. “I feel like shit,” he whispered. “Yeah, no kidding.” Ethan helped him to his feet. Moving on autopilot, he flushed the toilet and washed his hands, then walked out into the bedroom and collapsed into bed, burying his face in the pillow. Ethan trailed behind him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled. Ethan sat down on the bed beside him and resumed rubbing his back. “You’re okay,” Ethan said. “Just… I mean, do you think you really hurt anything? Do you need to see somebody?” “I don’t think so,” Castiel said, turning his face so Ethan could hear him. He closed his eyes again—he couldn’t bear to see Ethan’s worried expression. “I… just… am going to be sore for a long time, I think.” He was beginning to calm a little. The warmth of Ethan’s hand helped his agonized muscles unclench. Only now did he realize how utterly exhausted he was. His body felt heavy and hot and sore. “Yeah, no kidding,” Ethan said. “Just promise me one thing, okay?” “What?” “Promise me you aren’t going to hold your piss that long ever again,” Ethan said. Despite himself, Castiel laughed; it was a small, broken laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “Believe me,” he said, “I’m not planning on it.” He woke up several times throughout the night in desperate need to use the restroom, and had to call out of work the next day because his lower body was so sore he could hardly walk, but Ethan dutifully stayed by his side, plying him with liquids to keep his kidneys working, and slowly Castiel began to recover from his ordeal. What he took away from it could be summed up in his words to Ethan the next morning: “Next time I’m just going to use the goddamn public restroom.”
  3. Thank you very much! :) I was pretty nervous to post my writing here so that's very nice to hear!
  4. (Hey! I decided I'm going to try to participate in Omovember, based off the prompt list posted in this forum. I most likely won't get a story out for each day, but we'll see. They're all gonna be male because... I am gay. Sorry to all the female desperation people. Like my last fic, these are characters from a very non-kinky story I'm writing, so names and details have been changed or omitted because obviously I would prefer people not identify me by my characters. This story was kind of a warm up, so sorry if it's pretty tame. I promise I'll get into more extreme desperation later on. Also, I'll add tags as I post more stories. Also! One of the characters in this story is nonbinary and uses he/she pronouns; sorry if me switching between the two is confusing to anybody.) DAY 1: At a Party Austin was slowly getting used to being invited to Nico’s family’s holiday parties. Having never had much of a family of her own, everything was new to her—the sheer friendliness all around her intimidated her a little, but she was doing her best to adapt. Austin mostly stuck to Nico’s side as he bounced around the party, chatting cheerfully with just about everybody there. When he wasn’t following Nico around, Austin stayed close to the walls and corners, flitting around the edges of the crowd. The massive Christmas tree in the living room was a landmark—if Austin felt overwhelmed, he could head there and Nico, who watched it carefully no matter where he was in the house, would sweep in to rescue him. It was a cozy atmosphere; underneath the low hum of voices he could hear the fire crackling, and the whole house was decked out in tinsel and warm lights. It helped set her at ease a little. He still felt out of place, his kindness clumsy and manufactured, an imposter in this world of genuinely good people—but it was getting better. It was getting easier. He had gotten caught up in a conversation with Nico’s mom about the cookies she’d made for the occasion, and in the mess of people he’d lost track of where Nico was. Once Nico’s mom drifted away Austin found herself on her own, standing in the middle of the room. In her nervousness, she retreated to the Christmas tree and stood, chewing her lip as her heartbeat started to pick up. True to his word, though, Nico came bounding over right away. Austin hadn’t even seen him, but somehow he had seen Austin. “Everything okay?” Nico asked, smiling as brightly as always. “Everything’s fine,” Austin said. “I just lost track of you.” “Well, I’m here now!” Nico slung an arm around Austin, who gratefully leaned into the touch. “Were you talking to somebody?” “Mrs. Jensen,” Austin said. Nico chuckled. “You don’t have to call her that, you know. She’s my mom.” “Julia,” Austin corrected. “You can just say ‘mom,’” Nico said. He retracted his arm, and Austin mourned the loss of warmth. “Hey, I’ll be right back, okay? I have to—” “Nico!” Although not particularly loud, Nico’s dad’s—Carter’s—voice carried across the room. “I’m over by the tree!” Nico called. Carter was mostly blind, but he navigated the room with ease—it never ceased to impress Austin how well Carter was able to get around. Now he came quickly to the tree. “Have you tried the stuffing yet?” Carter asked. “It’s homemade this year—I tried out a recipe I found online and I think it turned out pretty well. What do you think, Austin? Have you tried it?” “Um—” Austin’s mouth dried up as it always did when someone she didn’t know terribly well approached her. Still, she tried valiantly to respond like a normal person. “Yeah, it’s good.” Carter smiled, evidently pleased with himself. “Thank you! I’m not much of a cook, but I did my best, and I think it paid off.” “I haven’t tried it yet,” Nico said. He was talking faster than usual, and as they stood there, he began to shift from foot to foot. “I will, after I use the bathroom.” He gave Austin a reassuring smile and slipped away into the crowd, leaving her alone with Carter. A bead of sweat rolled down Austin’s neck, her skin growing hot. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Carter—far from it. He was just afraid of messing something up, saying the wrong thing, turning Nico’s family against him. “How are you liking the party so far?” Carter asked, his voice gentle. He had never been anything but kind to Austin. “It’s good,” Austin said honestly. “I feel… at home here.” Carter smiled, that same warm smile Austin knew so well—Nico sure looked like his dad. “I’m glad. That’s exactly what we’re hoping for.” Nico reappeared after a brief moment. “Bathroom’s occupied,” he said with a sheepish grin, bouncing on his heels. “Probably will be for a while,” Carter said. “Is there still a line?” How Carter could tell there was a line was beyond Austin, but Nico sighed and said, “Yeah, big one.” “Figures,” Carter said, smiling sympathetically. “Always happens right when you need to go, huh?” “Of course,” Nico laughed. “It’s fine. I’ll wait.” After some quick words of parting, Carter went off to talk to someone else, leaving just Austin and Nico standing by the tree. Austin peered across the room, trying to get a peek at the bathroom situation. From what he could see, there were indeed a few people standing in line. “Only having one bathroom must’ve caused some issues when you were younger,” Austin commented. “You have no idea,” Nico said, and chuckled. “Having two older sisters basically made it a race every morning.” He groaned and bounced a little, bending his knees. “I should not be talking about this right now.” “Sorry,” Austin said. “We can talk about something else.” They did. They chatted about nothing of importance, really, just the party and Nico’s family and the TV show they’d been watching together lately. As they talked, Austin couldn’t help but notice Nico was moving more and more, constantly shifting his weight, his thighs pressed together. “You should probably go to the bathroom now,” Austin said. Nico shook his head. “I can see from here that there’s still a line. A longer line now, actually.” “Yeah, but if you don’t get in line you’re never going to be able to go,” Austin pointed out. “I feel bad leaving you alone for that long,” Nico said, his face flushing a little darker than usual. “Will you be okay by yourself?” “Don’t worry about me,” Austin said. “I’ll, uh, talk to Julia again or something.” Nico nodded, apparently too concerned about peeing to bother correcting Austin. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” He moved quickly across the room. Austin sought out Nico’s mother amongst the many faces at the party—he really tried, but despite his best efforts, he couldn’t find her. He wandered through the room for a while until, defeated and a little overwhelmed, he returned to the tree, simply because it was the only point of reference he had. In a few seconds Nico was there again too. His posture, though, suggested he still hadn’t gotten to use the bathroom; he was bent over a little, one hand resting on his thigh. “I’m okay,” Austin said quickly, before Nico could ask. “You should get back in line.” “You sure?” Nico asked. He was blushing still; Austin wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or strain. “You look nervous.” “Maybe a little,” Austin admitted. “Then I’m not leaving your side,” Nico said firmly. Despite himself, Austin had to laugh at Nico’s show of bravado. “I’ll be fine. Seriously. Go pee.” “I’ll be fine,” Nico insisted. “I can wait till you’re more—ah!” Before he could finish his sentence, he let out a little gasp and his hand moved to his crotch, briefly squeezing it before letting go and hovering at his side instead. He bit his lip, bouncing rapidly. “You don’t look like you can wait,” Austin said plainly. Nico chuckled, but Austin heard the edge of nervousness in it. “I can wait till you’re more comfortable.” Austin sighed. God, she was completely enamored with this man. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll wait in line with you.” “That’s a good compromise,” Nico said, and smiled. He took Austin’s hand, and together the two of them made their way over to the bathroom. There were four people in line—one he recognized as one of Nico’s twin sisters, another as one of his numerous great-uncles. The other two were people she didn’t know. None of them looked like they needed to go particularly badly. Nico, on the other hand, was practically doing a pee dance right there. He was visibly ashamed, his dark face tinged with red, but didn’t seem to be able to keep still. The girl at the front of the line caught a glimpse of Nico and laughed good-naturedly. “You may be waiting a while, Nico,” she said—Austin guessed she was one of Nico’s sister’s friends; she looked around their age. “Whoever’s in there has been in there for some time.” Nico blinked. “Really? That’s not good news for me.” Suddenly he looked much more concerned than he had a few seconds ago. His squirming intensified. Austin tugged on his hand. “Come with me,” Austin said. “I have an idea.” Nico tilted his head. “An idea?” “Just trust me,” Austin said. She led Nico slowly through the crowd. The slowness was on Nico’s part—his thighs were glued together, so he moved at a snail’s pace. Austin guessed the alcohol served at the party must’ve run right through him. “Uh, we’re going away from the bathroom,” Nico said. “I know,” Austin said, “but there’s a good reason for that.” He pulled Nico through the front door. Outside a few fat snowflakes drifted lazily down, coming to rest on the thick blanket of snow that covered the front lawn. As soon as the cold hit Nico, he yelped and grabbed himself, decorum all but forgotten. “Crap,” Nico muttered. “I… have to go worse than I thought.” “I figured as much,” Austin said. “That’s why I’m bringing you out here.” Nico furrowed his brow, still squeezing his crotch with one hand. “Uh?” Still dragging Nico along, he went around to the back of the house, where past the fence there was a small copse of trees. Their footsteps crunched through the fresh snow. Nico’s footsteps were more like a snail trail as he shuffled along, never parting his thighs for a second. “Just go here,” Austin said. “Nobody’s gonna know.” Nico raised his eyebrows. “You want me to pee in the woods?” “I mean, unless you’d rather go back inside and wait,” Austin said. Nico bounced, clearly weighing his options. His mind was made up for him when he let out a gasp and abruptly doubled over. “Crap,” Nico said again, clutching himself so tightly his knuckles paled. “Okay. You’re right.” Nico rushed to position himself behind a tree. Austin heard the zip of Nico’s pants being undone and turned away. “I won’t look,” Austin said. “Or listen. I… I mean, I’ll try not to, at least.” Nico laughed breathlessly. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before. I don’t really ca—ah…” His words became a sigh of relief as the telltale sound of liquid pattering on snow reached Austin’s ears. It went on for a good while—Nico’s bladder must have been pretty full. When at last he finished, he zipped up his pants and sighed again. “Feel better?” Austin asked. “You can say that again,” Nico said, and laughed. He came out from behind the tree, still red-faced but looking considerably more relieved. “Alright, let’s get back inside before someone figures out what I’m doing here. I don’t really want my parents knowing I peed in the backyard.” “And I don’t really want them knowing I encouraged you to do so,” Austin said. “I’ll have to wash my hands in the kitchen sink,” Nico muttered, then paused. “Also… thanks. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to hold it.” “No problem,” Austin said, giggling at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “Next time get in line while you can still hold it rather than worrying about me.” “Hey, no promises,” Nico said with a grin. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t worry about my princess, huh?” Austin rolled her eyes, but the swell of warmth in her chest was undeniable. “Let’s just get back to the party.”
  5. Thanks y'all! I was hesitant to say much about their appearances because again I'm paranoid about people somehow figuring out who the characters are lol, but I'll definitely keep that in mind
  6. (So uhhhhh. This is my first real try at writing omorashi. A few things before I post the actual story: These are characters from a not-omorashi-related novel I'm writing; as such, their names have been changed, and some details are a little vague. For obvious reasons, I don't want to risk anybody I know recognizing these characters. I know it's really unlikely but I'm paranoid lol. Also, one of the characters is an abuse survivor. It's not really discussed but if you're super sensitive to that stuff, be careful. Anyway, here we go. Constructive criticism is appreciated ofc, but please don't be too harsh haha) They were on the way home from a party when it happened. The party was a few hours away from their house—Matthew didn’t even want to go in the first place, but it was a work party so he felt obligated to, plus Kaleb had insisted it’d be good for them to get out, and he never could say no to Kaleb. There’d been plenty of drinks and snacks, and overall it hadn’t been a bad experience—he’d spent most of it eating chips, but Kaleb had had a lot of fun running around talking to everyone. Matthew admired Kaleb’s friendly, extroverted nature, especially after everything he had been through. They had also both discovered a particularly spicy bowl of salsa. While Matthew enjoyed it, Kaleb wasn’t used to spicy foods and had to chug many cups of water after trying it. At the time, it didn’t occur to Matthew that that water was going to need a way out at some point, or that he hadn’t seen Kaleb use the bathroom once, even though he himself had gone several times. It was dark by the time they left the party; the weather had gotten chilly, and even Matthew, whose body temperature ran quite hot, shivered without a jacket. Kaleb, painfully thin as he was, was shaking uncontrollably from just the short walk to the car. As soon as they got in, Matthew switched on the heat. “It got cold real fast,” Matthew commented. Kaleb nodded, wrapping his arms around himself as his teeth chattered. “It did,” he managed to get out. The car heated up quickly as he pulled out of the driveway and began the long drive home. Soon it was pleasantly warm. As usual, Kaleb was staring out the window, entranced by whatever it was he saw. He loved to look out the window on car rides. Matthew smiled to himself. “Did you have fun?” Matthew asked after a couple minutes, knowing the answer already. Kaleb nodded. He was still trembling a little, but it had mostly died down. He didn’t speak, though. That was the first sign that something was wrong. Figuring he was just tired, Matthew dismissed it and kept driving. About ten minutes later, Matthew noticed Kaleb was moving in an odd way. He was too focused on the road to understand what was going on, but Kaleb was squirming around like he was uncomfortable. “You okay?” he asked. Kaleb nodded, but kept silent. Matthew felt his brow knit together with concern. “You sure? You’re being quiet. Are you cold?” “I’m okay,” Kaleb said. His body stilled for a while, but after another ten minutes he was moving again. Matthew was puzzled. “You absolutely sure you’re okay?” he asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kaleb bite his lip—a sure sign he was nervous. Okay, now Matthew knew there was something wrong. “I just, um—” Kaleb wasn’t looking at him. “Kinda need the bathroom.” “Oh, that’s it?” Matthew started paying attention to the road signs. “I’ll find somewhere to pull over.” “No, it’s okay,” Kaleb said quickly. “I can wait.” “Kaleb, it’s like a three hour drive,” Matthew said. “Even if you can wait that long, you shouldn’t.” “I—” Kaleb’s face reddened, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I, um… can’t… go.” Matthew blinked. “Huh?” “When I get nervous,” Kaleb said, “I can’t go. And I… I usually get nervous if I try to go in public. So I can’t go in public.” Matthew was silent for a second, processing that. Then: “You’re… bladder shy?” “Yeah,” Kaleb mumbled, pressing his hands down on his knees. “Uhhh,” Matthew said. “Shit. Okay, we’ll figure something out.” “Let’s just go home,” Kaleb said, his face bright red. “Please?” “Well, I—I mean—” Matthew struggled to find the words. “In theory that’s great, but like I said, it’s gonna be a few hours.” “I can wait,” Kaleb said again. Matthew sighed. There was no way Kaleb was going to be able to wait three hours if he already had to go so badly he couldn’t hide it, but he also didn’t want to force Kaleb into a situation where he’d be uncomfortable and anxious. “Is… this a trauma thing?” he asked. He knew that was blunt, but he also knew Kaleb wouldn’t mind. Kaleb nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Do you think talking about it would help?” “Um—” Kaleb shifted in his seat. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now I… I think it would make the situation worse.” Yeah, he supposed talking about peeing probably would worsen Kaleb’s need, so he kept quiet. As he drove, he tried to come up with a solution. There had to be some way for Kaleb to go. “Could you go, like, behind a tree or something?” he asked. Kaleb shook his head. “That’d be even worse than a bathroom.” “Do you wanna try to go?” Kaleb shook his head again. “I… already tried, at the party. I couldn’t.” “Yeah,” Matthew said, “but you probably have to go worse now. Maybe…” “I still don’t think I’d be able to,” Kaleb said. “No matter how bad I have to go, I just can’t.” “How has this never come up before?” Matthew asked. Kaleb shrugged. “I can hold a lot.” Matthew thought back to all the times they’d been away from home. He supposed there’d always been a hotel or something, somewhere Kaleb could feel comfortable going. This was the first time they’d been stuck three hours from home while Kaleb had to go. It made sense that Kaleb had a large bladder, too—he guessed the poor guy had been made to hold it by his abusers. The thought made him feel a little sick. He didn’t want Kaleb to go through that again here. “Are you sure you don’t wanna at least try?” Matthew asked. “I’m sure,” Kaleb said. “I just wanna go home.” So they drove on. He watched Kaleb in his peripheral vision. Kaleb’s face was still pink and he was still squirming—he was squirming more and more, in fact, as time went on. After about half an hour he heard a little whimper and saw Kaleb’s hand shoot to his crotch. Okay, that was concerning. “Kaleb…” Matthew took one hand off the wheel to run his fingers through his hair—his own nervous habit. “I can’t just let you suffer.” “There’s nothing you can do,” Kaleb said, his tone pleading. “Please, let’s just go home.” “Can you please try to go?” Matthew asked. “For me?” Kaleb chewed his lip, but slowly nodded. “Okay. For you.” “Thank you,” Matthew said. He pulled over at the next gas station and got out. Kaleb got out a second later, moving stiffly. He was doubled over a little. Matthew winced at the thought that it was already that bad. With any luck, though, he’d soon be comfortably empty. Kaleb looked pale and tired under the white lights of the gas station, and as soon as the cold hit his skin he was shivering again. He had taken his hand off his crotch, but as they walked into the gas station it found its way there again. “Okay,” Matthew said as they approached the bathrooms. “I’ll be right here, okay? Or—does that make it worse? I can go outside if—” “It’s okay,” Kaleb said. “I don’t mind you being around. It’s… everyone else that makes me nervous.” Matthew nodded. “I’ll be right here, then.” Kaleb hobbled into the bathroom. Several minutes passed. Matthew was internally praying Kaleb would be able to go; his heart sank when Kaleb came out looking just as stiff and shook his head. “I can’t,” Kaleb said softly. “Okay,” Matthew said. “It’s okay. We’ll find a solution.” “Let’s please just go home,” Kaleb said. “It’s still, like, two and a half hours, though.” Matthew exhaled deeply. “I don’t want you to hold it for that long.” “I…” Kaleb swallowed hard. “I don’t have a choice.” Matthew couldn’t argue with that. Silently the two of them went back out into the cold, out to the car, and got in. As soon as his butt hit the seat Kaleb was squirming again, violently this time. He pressed down on his crotch with his palm, trying to grind himself into the seat. Matthew felt terrible for him. He couldn’t imagine being that desperate and not being able to go. “Okay,” Matthew said. “I’m gonna drive as fast as I can without getting pulled over.” Over the next half hour, Kaleb’s movements got more and more jerky and strained. His face was red and he couldn’t stop moving. Matthew snuck glances at him, trying to determine just how bad it was getting. There were still a couple hours until they’d reach home, and Kaleb was clearly on the verge of bursting. He was holding himself constantly now, his hips jerking in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Matthew cleared his throat. “You know,” he said, “if you, uh, can’t hold it, I won’t be mad.” Kaleb’s face blanched. “You mean if I… wet myself?” “Yeah,” Matthew said. “Not that I’m saying you’re going to, but if you do. Just so you know.” Kaleb shook his head frantically. “I won’t. I—I can’t.” Matthew wasn’t sure if Kaleb meant he couldn’t in good conscience or that he was physically incapable of doing so. Or both. Probably both. “Do you wanna try—” Before Matthew could finish his sentence, Kaleb was shaking his head again. “I just wanna go home,” Kaleb said. “I know, but…” Matthew sighed. “It’s gonna be a couple hours.” “Hasn’t it been already?” Kaleb asked. Matthew looked over to see his eyes were glistening in the car’s headlights. That wasn’t a good sign. “It’s a long drive,” Matthew said. “Like I said, even if you are capable of waiting that long—which for all I know you may be—you really shouldn’t.” “There’s no other choice,” Kaleb said, chewing his lip. That shut Matthew up for about another half hour. By that point, Kaleb was writhing in his seat, clutching himself so tightly his knuckles were white. That couldn’t be good for him. He gasped suddenly, his back arching, and alarm bells went off in Matthew’s head as he saw, through Kaleb’s shirt, the shape of his bladder bulging out between his hips. “Kaleb,” Matthew said, keeping his voice soft, “I’m getting really worried. Can you please try to go again?” “Please—” Kaleb choked out, rocking from side to side. “Please can we just go home?” “Your bladder is… I mean, it’s visible.” Matthew shook his head. “I can see it. There’s no way that’s healthy. I don’t want you to rupture something.” “I’ll be fine, just—please.” He sniffled miserably, wiping his eyes with the hand that wasn’t on his crotch. “I just wanna go home so I can pee.” Another half hour of driving. There was about an hour left, but Kaleb’s condition was only worsening. He rocked back and forth, holding his crotch with both hands now, biting back tears and whimpering every few seconds. His bladder stuck out farther than Matthew had previously thought it was possible for a bladder to stick out; it was clearly full to the absolute brim, and it was getting fuller with each passing minute as Kaleb’s kidneys processed more and more of what he had drank. Suddenly Kaleb gasped and jerked his hips upwards, his tears spilling over at last. “Oh god,” he whispered. “Hey,” Matthew said, sensing he was on the verge of losing it. “It’s okay—” “It’s not!” Kaleb whipped his head from side to side so hard Matthew worried he’d give himself whiplash. “I—I can’t—the car will—get dirty and—” “We can get it cleaned,” Matthew said gently. Kaleb just kept shaking his head. “I can’t.” They drove on, but Matthew was so distracted with worry at this point he could hardly drive. He could only think about Kaleb squirming next to him, his bladder up to his navel, his crotch held in a vice grip, tears streaming down his face. Somehow, another half hour passed. Kaleb was sobbing now; Matthew could tell he was trying to keep quiet, but it wasn’t working. Even with the radio playing in the background, he could hear every whine and cry Kaleb let out. “Almost there,” Matthew said, trying to be reassuring. “You’ll get to go soon.” “How long?” Kaleb asked, his voice near-hysterical. “Uhhh,” Matthew said, suddenly realizing half an hour was probably a lot longer for Kaleb than for him. “About half an hour.” Kaleb sobbed harder. Okay, so that didn’t help. Kaleb bent over, one hand moving up to cradle his distended bladder. As soon as he touched it he gasped loudly, his eyes widening and brows drawing together. He returned both hands to his crotch. “That must hurt, huh?” Matthew murmured, and Kaleb nodded tearfully. “Okay. Almost there. We’re almost there.” Kaleb changed positions constantly, presumably unable to get comfortable with such a full bladder. If his expression said he was in agony, his bulging bladder said so even louder. Matthew couldn’t even comprehend the idea of holding that much. There must have been liters and liters contained in Kaleb’s poor bladder. About ten minutes from home, he heard a strangled cry from Kaleb, and Kaleb’s movements came to a sudden stop. He looked over to see Kaleb’s eyes wide with horror, his body still. “Hey,” Matthew said soothingly. “It’s okay if you’re—” “I’m not,” Kaleb gasped out. “I can hold it. I can.” He was doubled over with his head practically touching his knees, his hands wrapped around his crotch. He sat like that for the rest of the drive. Finally, finally, they pulled into the driveway. “We’re here,” Matthew said. Kaleb didn’t respond; Matthew wasn’t sure he had even heard him. He was staring straight ahead, eyes huge, his whole body trembling with need. Matthew got out of the car and went around to Kaleb’s side. He opened the door. What he didn’t take into account was that this would hit Kaleb with a blast of cold air. Kaleb gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears rolled down his pale cheeks. “Shit,” Matthew muttered. “Sorry. Sorry. Come on, let’s get you inside.” He gently tugged Kaleb’s shoulder. Kaleb raised his head. “We’re home?” Kaleb whimpered. Matthew nodded. “We’re home.” Kaleb moved painstakingly slowly, swinging his legs over the side and standing, never letting go of his crotch. When he was in a standing position, his full bladder was even more apparent. He took a few staggering steps toward the house, then froze. “I can’t,” he cried out, doubling over where he stood. “Okay,” Matthew said. “It’s okay. Just let go if you have to.” “No!” Kaleb sobbed helplessly. “I can’t. I can’t—” A few more steps. Matthew followed him, his heart aching with sympathy. After three hours in the car, even Matthew had to go a little bit, but he was nowhere near as desperate as Kaleb. Kaleb continued on in this manner, stopping every few seconds to clutch himself and squeeze his legs together. He was shaking all over, and Matthew knew it wasn’t just because of the cold. He really hadn’t thought Kaleb would be able to make it, but at last Kaleb reached the front door. Matthew fumbled for his key and quickly unlocked it. Kaleb shuffled inside, his thighs glued together. “Almost there,” Matthew said. Slowly, so slowly, Kaleb made his way toward the bathroom. Matthew trailed behind him, murmuring encouraging and soothing words, reassuring him it was okay if he couldn’t hold it, everything was going to be okay, he was going to be okay. To Matthew’s amazement, he reached the bathroom and slipped inside; Matthew closed the door for him. He had actually made it without wetting himself. That was a miracle if Matthew had ever seen one. He suspected no normal person would be able to hold it this long—Kaleb’s fear must have kept his bladder firmly shut. He stood outside the bathroom door, waiting for Kaleb to come out so he could comfort him, but even standing right there, he couldn’t hear Kaleb going. Puzzled, he knocked on the door. “You okay?” he asked. “My zipper,” Kaleb cried through the door. “I can’t get—I can’t—” Matthew opened the door. Normally he would never without asking, but this was an emergency—Kaleb clearly needed help. He was standing there, hands on his crotch, face streaked with tears. “I can’t take my hands—off—” “It’s okay,” he said, seeing the problem immediately. He crossed the bathroom in under a second and pulled down Kaleb’s zipper in one fluid motion, then quickly made his way out, avoiding looking at Kaleb. He closed the door behind him, expecting to finally hear a stream start, but—still nothing. He could hear Kaleb’s sobs. “Somethin’ else wrong?” he asked, knocking gently again. “I can’t go,” Kaleb said. “Uhhh,” Matthew said, his heart starting to pound. “What do you mean?” “I just can’t!” Kaleb sounded panicky, and Matthew felt the same. Had Kaleb seriously damaged something? “Okay,” he said gently, talking through the door. “Just relax. You’re too tense. You gotta relax.” Nothing happened. Just as Matthew was starting to debate hauling Kaleb to the hospital, he heard a trickle. Thank god, he thought. Encouraged by this, he kept talking. “I’m right here,” he said. “I’m right here, and I’m not mad at you, and you’re safe. You’re gonna be okay.” The trickle turned into a stream, and he heard Kaleb exhale shakily. Satisfied, he stepped away from the bathroom door; he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of listening to his best friend pee, he’d just wanted to make sure he was able to. It was a good few minutes before the door opened. Kaleb stood there, red-faced. “I’m so sorry,” he said before Matthew could speak. “I—I’m so sorry, I—” “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Matthew said. “I almost wet myself in your car,” Kaleb said, a fresh wave of tears pouring down his cheeks. “I—I’m so stupid and gross and I’m sorry—” Matthew stepped forward and pulled Kaleb into a hug. He could feel Kaleb shivering against him. Kaleb’s knees gave out, his body sagging with exhaustion; Matthew slid his arms under Kaleb’s legs and carried him into his bedroom. He gently deposited Kaleb in bed. “You’re not gross,” he said, “and you’re not stupid, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re okay. I’m just glad you were able to go. I was really, really worried.” Kaleb sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Really? You’re really not mad?” “Really,” Matthew said. “I’m really, really not mad.” “Thank you,” Kaleb whispered. “I didn’t do anything,” Matthew said. “You talked to me,” Kaleb said. “I wouldn’t have… I mean… I don’t know if I would have been able to go otherwise.” Matthew sat on the bed next to him. “Does it still hurt?” Kaleb nodded. “You want me to rub your back?” Kaleb sniffled again. “Would you really not mind that?” “Not at all,” he said. Kaleb rolled onto his front, and Matthew’s hands worked their way into his lower back. It didn’t take long for Kaleb’s breathing to steady and his eyes to flutter shut. Matthew kept rubbing his back for a few minutes after he fell asleep, then got up slowly to avoid waking him. He looked down at Kaleb’s sleeping, peaceful face. “Sleep well,” he murmured, then left the room.
  7. I've been lurking on this site for a long time and I want to start actually posting, but am not 100% sure how. So... hey! I'm gay and into male omo (which unfortunately is way harder to find than female); I have been for ages but I think I learned the term for it when I was around 12? I've made some content for this kink but never showed it to anybody for obvious reasons. I'm currently working on a little text-based omo game so maybe I'll post that here. But yeah, hi!
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