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Wotan42

Dry Member
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  • My pronouns are..
    he/him

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  • I'm into..
    Bathroom Control
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  1. Cheers for all the positive feedback guys, I’ve got a lot more ideas for this that I wanna write up. I followed her to the cafeteria, though I kept safe distance-didn’t want to seem stalkerish. By the time I got there, she was sitting down on a bench, completely alone, her posture tense and uncomfortable-just seeing her like that, my mind was drawn back to the fact that she must be utterly bursting, of how much piss she must be trying to contain between those lithe, shapely legs. Inexplicably, she was sipping from a large glass of apple juice, I wondered why she’d be doing that-I mean, it couldn’t be good for her bladder. “Er…hi” I say awkwardly, I don’t what processed me to approach her, it just sort of felt right. She looked around furtively, probably afraid this was going to somehow be an extension of the teasing and bullying. In the past they had got guys to pretend to ask her out to ‘for a laugh’. Even at eighteen, when you’d think all of this childish stuff would abate, it still kept happening and unfortunately had even started to increase. “I saw what happened, that was a serious dick move” I had no idea what to say and I suddenly as though I had just jerked my foot straight into my mouth. “They do that all the time” She said, not looking at me and wriggling a little in her seat. Suddenly, images of her bursting flashed into my mind, they do it all the time, that must mean she ends up having to hang on a lot. “That sucks” (Safe to say I had no idea how to talk to girls, or guys, or sentient beings in general really.) “I never get to wee at school” She confirmed morosely. Now it was my turn to squirm in my seat, the thought of this (reasonably) attractive girl been utterly desperate all the time was….well, beyond anything I’d ever dreamed of. “Here, look” She stood up, in an uncomfortable motion that elicited a little groan from her. Her bladder was bulging against the tight waistband of her skirt, a great big bulging sphere of liquid, straining uncomfortably against the elastic of the skirt, like a balloon filling with urine. The skin around her bladder was getting tighter, against her washboard abs, it almost made her look pregnant-pregnant with piss-I suddenly thought. “It’s impressive you can last so long” I remarked, hoping I didn’t sound weird. I really had no idea why she was choosing to share this information with me, maybe she was lonely, or bored, or just grateful of some sympathetic to talk too. “You really think so? Guess, I get enough practice in, usually I don’t have time to pee in the mornings, so I get pretty full sometimes” I couldn’t believe she could hold so much, though I did feel rather sorry for her, having to be in discomfort for so long, having to hold your morning piss that long must be utterly unbearable. “You should be on one of those Japanese game shows” I smiled, she looked dumbfounded, obviously not having the faintest idea what I was talking about. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to drink all that juice though” I said, changing subject quickly- didn’t really want her inquiring about how I knew about such game shows or how aufait I was with Japanese subcultures-weabooism being punished by law in most British schools, even sometimes amongst the lower sections of the social pyramid. “I’m not gonna get dehydrated because of them” She refilled the juice from an adjacent pitcher and took a big defiant glug. That stream of apple juice sure did remind me of something, I’m sure it reminded her of something too. There was an incredibly awkward pause where several eons elapsed in the space of a few seconds. “Th-thanks for, you know, like, actually acknowledging I exist” She said shyly, sitting down tentatively, careful not to put any more pressure on her expanding piss tank. “People are just dicks sometimes, I guess” There wasn’t anything else I could immediately think of that would be consoling. “They shouldn’t make people pay to use the toilet, it’s cruel and stupid” She finished her apple juice and slammed the glass down hard. Evidently, she had a lot of stuff to vent and had been pent up for quite some time. “Wish Katie would get desperate for a change” “Maybe she’ll be stuck in traffic after downing a whole quart of mountain dew” I suggested smiling. Maybe we couldn’t actually do anything against the bullies for now, but we could talk about random and unlikely payback situations and that was enough to make her feel a little better, sometimes just talking can really help. She laughed a little. “Hopefully she’ll be stuck there for hours, with waterfall noises playing over the car stereo” “Yeah and when she finally arrives at her destination, the toilets locked an there’s not another one around for a hundred miles” She giggled. I really liked hearing her giggle, it was cute. “Ideally she’ll have also eaten an extra-large breakfast burrito and taken a dozen ex-lax capsules that morning too” Couldn’t help but laugh too. “You’ve got kind of a dark side haven’t you?” I asked, when we’d finished giggling. She smiled at e haughtily, her shy exterior cracking like aged terracotta glaze and a more confident, assertive girl shined through. Suddenly, Katie and her posse entered the cafeteria. I saw them just in my peripherals. She almost ducked under the table in fright. “Well, well, well” Katie drooled, a malicious playing on her lips “What’s going on here?”
  2. Oh? What happened. I guess school bathrooms are a common hangout for bullies.
  3. I started of trying to do Nanowrimo but after a few days I kinda ran out of steam and to get my daily word count in I added some random omo into what I was writing- didn’t intend to really, it just sort of happened. So apologies if the style of writing seems a little of or if there's too much preamble. I remember my real girlfriend as though it was yesterday. Other girls have come and gone, until they blend together into some vague blob monster of amalgamated people but she stands out, as clear and as bright as when I first met her. She wasn’t one of the popular girls at school, not one of the blonde cheerleader types (if you insist in seeing everything through the lens of John Hughes-esque American high school clichés) far from it in fact, she was one of the least popular girls in our year. Every class has one misfit, the weird kid, with a funny sounding voice or creepy hobby, or most often nothing specifically amiss about them at all, they’re just the designated weirdo, the token Carrie White of the school, the one that gets food thrown at them in the cafeteria and stuff pinned to their backs in the corridor. Everyone kind of picked on this girl, even some of the geeky members of our class whom I was friends with. I guess because she made it so easy (or more likely because people are just dicks sometimes) she never wore makeup or jewellery, or listened to music or played any sports. She just sort of sat there. Awkwardly, usually sucking on the braid in her hair, surveying everything with her doleful, moon-calf eyes (often were shrink wrapped in tears), not really talking to anyone or engaging with anything. Sometimes doodling, sometimes picking stucco of the walls and rolling it into little balls. On her more active days she’d organise the balls into neat little rows and columns. I didn’t speak to her very much, in high school unpopularity is a communicable disease and I didn’t want any more rubbing of on me. Though, from afar I did begin to think about her a lot, her long bright red hair, her big sparkling green eyes and long legs that were paradoxically both slender and chubby at the same time. She really was quite beautiful- though I’d never admit it aloud. The girls where horrible, far more so than the boys. They used to wait in the toilet block and say she wasn’t allowed to go, laughing and whooping as she begged them. I had a locker just adjacent to the toilets and remember a pack of girls forming outside the ladies room waiting for her. “Pwease’, I really gotta’ goooo” I remember her whining plaintively, hopping from one foot to the other, her little vinyl plimsolls click-clacking on the linoleum floor in a tattoo of desperation. This one specific incident stands out to, just because of how utterly desperate she was and because of what happened next. Katie Dawlings was standing in front of the toilet door, like a troll guarding a bridge from a fairy tale, hands on her hips and a wicked grin spread across her face. She was probably one of her biggest tormentors, always whispering about her in class and drawing rude stuff on her notebooks, she could get away with it too, she was one of the tallest girls in our year (nearly five foot ten, taller than me) as well as being the prettiest and the most charming around teachers. “You’re not allowed” She said firmly, “Not until you give us that twenty quid” “But I don’t got that much” She pleaded, shoving another hand tight between her chubby thighs. “That’s how much it costs to use the toilet here” She groaned and bounced up and down, pens and loose change in her pocket clinking. “Pwease, I’m bursting” Katie pretended to examine her nails in a pantomime of faux indifference. “Don’t see how that’s my problem, this is a pay toilet an if you don’t got the money you have to cross your legs and hold it” All of the girls laughed, that horrible girlish titter that only schoolgirls know how to do, the kind that rises hackles on young boys necks and creates that empty hollowed out feeling in your gut. She looked over at me imploringly, probably hoping I’d come to the rescue and do…well I had no idea what I could have done but she was probably expecting something. She hobbled away down the corridor, still holding her crotch. Something really sparked inside me when I thought about how much pee she must have inside her, I mean to grab yourself like that in public, you must really need to go. I will admit, I felt a total pussy for not standing up for her or doing anything. So I contented myself with shooting a dirty look at Katie and following her- at a safe distance- to the cafeteria, strangely hypnotised by her slinky, bursting-for-a-piss walk. Little knowing that that day would be the day everything changed.
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