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Noot

Soaked Member
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Everything posted by Noot

  1. My partner and I swap underwear all the time and, inevitably, sometimes that can lead to accidents. I have wet in hers a few times!
  2. I’m back after a long time away from the site for personal stuff! I went out with friends tonight. At the end, they chose to go to a club. I HATE clubbing, so I decided to stay back alone and wait for them and have some omo fun instead. I’m in a packed pub- for any UK people, it’s a Wetherspoons at 11:10PM. I’m DYING for a wee. I have no idea how I’m gonna hold it much longer as I’m busting rn. I can’t stand still, I’m so tempted to hold myself but I know it’s wrong in public. Messing related content below: Wish me luck!
  3. Hi! Not been online for a very long time, but coming back now and gonna hold alongside you tonight! Good luck!
  4. I doubt I could tell. But then again, biological male here who almost always pees sitting down, so I'm not the best judge.
  5. By the time we get in that night, I’m so desperate for a piss that I almost need to hold myself to stay dry. The only thing stopping me is fear of what Charlotte might say if she sees me squirming like a little boy. She can be harsh when she’s been drinking. We’ve been out since seven, on a grand tour of the local pubs and bars, running into old friends left, right and centre. Of course, both of us have knocked back a fair few glasses, but that’s not even the main reason why I’m dying for the toilet now. I haven’t been for hours, purely because I hate leaving Charlotte alone at bars when it gets late. I’d rather wet myself than risk something happening to her- and now, a couple of hours into the new day, I’m finally about to empty the bladder that’s given me agony since midnight. “Come on,” she slurs as she closes the front door behind her, “bed”. We both know that bed means sex, and I’m not opposed to that idea at all, but for both of our sakes I know I need to make a detour to the bathroom first. “I’ll see you in there,” I tell her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that I have to pee. After all this time together, Charlotte is well aware that I get desperate for the toilet when I drink a lot of booze. So we split up there- she heads to the bedroom to get ready for some action, and I hobble through the dark corridor toward the only place in the house where I’m permitted to empty my bladder. In the blackness, the one room where the light is always kept on is the loo; Charlotte quickly got tired of having to struggle to find her way in the dark whenever she needed to relieve herself in the night. The crack of light seeping through where the door is partially open illuminates my path like a star. I waddle towards it, unbearably desperate now that I know I’m so close. Away from my girlfriend’s eyes, I can finally reach down and squeeze my cock hard, which barely does enough to stop me from making a puddle on the floor. I push through the bathroom door… and almost have a heart attack. Lily is perched on the toilet seat, wearing nothing but a too-small pyjama top and a pair of cotton shorts bunched up around her ankles. Her hair is dishevelled, her eyes half-open. In one hand she holds her phone, with what looks like Twitter open. She looks utterly unsurprised to see me burst in on her at 2AM. She barely even glances up when I enter, but I, on the other hand, freeze completely with panic. Her walking in on me was one thing, and one thing I never plan to tell Charlotte about, but this… this one is on me. This could be big trouble. And as I stand there, drunkenly trying to remind myself how to turn and flee, I realise that I’m still gripping my dick through my jeans with one hand. “Good night?” she asks sleepily. I don’t know what to do. I can hardly leave, now she’s asked a question. Sober me would have panicked and changed the subject before making some excuse to get out of there, but right now I’m not thinking half as clearly. So I stammer a response. “Yeah, thanks…” I stutter, “sorry, I’ll wait outside”. “You can stay,” she tells me, and I remember that morning again in a flash, “just close the door, or Charlotte will hear”. Though I’ll never be able to explain why, I close the door- with me still on her side of it. It clicks shut. Now my initial shock is fading, I’m quickly being reminded how badly I have to urinate. “You look desperate,” Lily observes dryly. She’s not wrong, but my cheeks blush at being called out like that. “It’s not too bad,” I lie, trying to save face. It is bad. It’s so bad I seriously think I’m going to piss myself right here. I don’t want to imagine what my girlfriend’s sister might say if my jeans turn from denim to navy, pee pooling on the floor by my feet. But I can feel it, nonetheless, the first jet of hot urine right at the tip of my dick. It’s waiting to squirt out of me. And just before it does… “Sink’s right behind you, mate,” she says quietly. “What?” “The sink. Just wee in there,” she urges, brushing her hair out of her face with one hand. It’s so sorely tempting… but I know it’s wrong. “I can’t do that. Charlotte would kill me”. “I won’t tell,” she promises, “besides, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s totally fine”. “I can’t… go… in front of you,” I protest, but the truth is my resistance is fading. I’m running out of options. The last time I was this busting to pee, I didn’t make it. Even drunk, I can’t risk a repeat of that right now. “Fine, have it your way,” she says, “but you should know I’m going to be a while, if you know what I mean”. I know exactly what she means, and I know I can’t wait that long. Desperation has made up my mind for me. Face burning with shame, I turn away from her and face the mirror. From this angle I can see her unfazed reflection just as plainly as I had that morning, though the alcohol makes it blurry this time. “Okay,” I concede, “I’m sorry”. “Sorry for what?” she asks earnestly as I unzip my fly and wrestle my aching member from my boxers, “don’t sweat it, dude. I’ve been in your shoes before”. Even as every instinct I possess screams at me not to take a leak in the sink with my girlfriend’s sister a few feet behind me, my desperate bladder gives in and hot piss starts to dribble from the tip of my penis. I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with Lily’s reflection, let alone Lily herself, though I know she has no qualms with it. “But I really shouldn’t be doing this in front of… you, you know?” The words almost become a sigh of relief as my trickle picks up into a gushing flow. I fight to remain calm. “I don’t care,” Lily says with a shrug. “When you’ve gotta go, you know?” I don’t know what to say to that, so I look down instead, watching the colourless stream slide down the drain. “Thanks,” I mutter. “Don’t mention it,” she says, checking something on her phone. After what feels like a very long time, I finally feel empty. More self-conscious than I know I should be (there’s no way she can see my dick from where she’s sitting, even in the mirror), I shake the drops off the end and tuck it away. Then I wash my hands as fast as I can and head to the door… but before I can leave she opens her mouth. “Wipe down the sink quick,” Lily advises me. She stifles a yawn with the back of her left hand. “If you don’t rinse it, it’ll smell like wee in the morning”. I do as she says, eager to do anything to prevent Charlotte finding out about this exchange. Though I’ve gone out of my way to make sure I see as little of Lily’s thighs, butt and crotch as possible, I’m certain my girlfriend would not be happy if she learned what had gone on here tonight- even if I haven’t technically done anything wrong, have I? Nature called and I answered, with no little encouragement from Lily. “How do you know that?” I ask, “about the sink”. She smiles coyly at me. I don’t see because I still can’t bring myself to look directly at her. But I can hear it in her voice. “Is a girl not allowed to know things now?” she asks, and at that I consider the matter closed.
  6. It's common knowledge among my friends, honestly. I don't bring it up because I don't want to risk making anyone uncomfortable but there are a lot of good-natured jokes about it at my expense. They also know I write commission stories about pee.
  7. I guess you could call this a prequel to my story For Science, in which the female lead alludes to having some accidents while being engrossed in the game Minecraft. I was in the mood to write a full story about that, and here it is! The character in this story is past her eighteenth birthday, as are all my characters in all my stories. -------------------------------------------------- "Huh!" "Grrrrr" "Hssssssss" "Shit!" she hissed out loud, "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!" April spammed her W key, suddenly spurred on by blind panic. Her character sprinted forward, falling just a few blocks as the Creeper exploded loudly behind her. She rushed away, through the darkness of the cave until she was sure she wasn't being followed; it would be suicide to stand still on half a heart while a Skeleton lurked nearby. Frantically, April built up a wall around her, blocking out the approaching enemies. She couldn't believe it had come to this so quickly. Seconds ago everything had been fine, but before she knew it she had been plunged into a world of chaos. Typical me, she thought as she forced her character to gobble down a few steaks, complacent until it's almost too late. When her hunger bar was finally repleted, April let her right hand slip off of her mouse and snake down to her crotch, which had been neglected for too long. From years of experience, she was well used to fanning her thighs together furiously while she gamed, knees knocking with every inward swing. But eventually she would always reach the point where that wasn't enough. She was there now; squirming was on the brink of failing her, and the only way she could preserve the continued dryness of her underwear was with the pressure of her own fingers. It was an equation to April. It was little more than scientific fact- her bladder had reached capacity, and now she needed to add the forces of her hand to balance out her growing need to urinate. Holding herself there felt childish, she had to admit. It was inappropriate for the adult woman that she had become, and yet she still caught herself doing it from time to time. As much as squeezing her crotch to hold her urine was something April had assumed she'd grow out of, her eighteenth birthday had come and gone weeks ago, but she still had to count on her right hand to help hold it sometimes. Gently massaging her private area felt good, if she was honest, and it really took the edge off of her desperate need to use the loo. But then April's health bar was full again, and she dragged her hand back to the mouse. She had to pee- and badly. That was beyond denial now. April, though, refused to just log out anywhere. Whether she called it OCD or just perfectionism, it made no matter: there was only one place she ever felt satisfied to exit the game, and that was right beside the bed she'd built in her wooden house almost fifty blocks above. April had never logged off anywhere other than that bedroom and she didn't intend to start now. She needed to hold it throughout the journey back to the surface... and that would involve keeping her hand off her genitals. Determined, she broke two of the blocks penning her in. The co-ordinates by the side of her screen told her that she had some way to climb before she could resurface, and food was almost running dry. April took a deep breath. She was asking a lot of herself. But it had to be done, and she was never the type to procrastinate, so she took her first steps back into the pitch-black cave. "Fuck, I need a wee," she muttered under her breath as she guided her character back into the cavernous space. There were mobs in there- she could see them already. But she couldn't afford to be careful. Her bladder was close to bursting point, demanding that she got up and made a beeline for the toilet that very second. Only her mind forced her to stay seated. Her mind understood that she couldn't log off until she was safely back where she'd started. April dashed past the mobs she'd escaped earlier, unable to stop for even a couple of seconds. "I need a fucking wee," she murmured, grateful that nobody else in the house was awake to hear her. April was not usually a swearer. She'd been raised never to use bad words, and so she didn't... with a few exceptions. Sometimes she couldn't help herself. When she was taken by surprise, when she was really scared or angry... and when she desperately needed the loo. This was one of the latter times. April could feel herself on the verge of leaking, but she knew that taking her hand off her mouse would mean likely death in the game. So she pushed on, squeezing her thighs together tight. The nearest toilet was barely ten metres away. The walk was only five seconds. But April would not go until she was done on the computer. She was a big girl, after all, and she was determined to hold it.
  8. We played for half an hour before I started to really need to go again. April kicked my ass. She was a goddess at the game, drifting around the corners with ease and hitting every shortcut but one. The only time she missed, she burped quietly and blamed the wine, insisting that she would usually hit that jump every time. I couldn’t help but believe her- she was incredible, and I never once came close to beating her. After a couple of Cups, April put down her remote and returned to the table. I knew without asking that I should follow and reclaim my seat opposite her. This time she picked up that pair of thick glasses from her side and put them on before she went back to her notebook, running her gaze over the notes she’d taken so far. By the time I was sat down again, she was licking her thumb to turn over and start a new page. I watched in fascination as she drew out a table on the page. Even upside-down, I could read her words clearly. The table was split into three columns and at least half a dozen rows. At the top of the latter two rows she wrote our names. April and Jacob. I noticed that she refrained from using my shorter name- ever the scientist, of course. Then, on the far left of the first row, she scrawled the time 9:25. The time we’d both used the bathroom last. On the next row April wrote the current time- 10:10. It was getting late, no doubt, and I was getting tipsy. April looked up at me. “How badly do you need to use the loo now?” “Pretty bad,” I admitted. My bladder was filling up fast and I doubted I could wait much longer before things got desperate. “I’m looking for a number, Jacob”. I thought about it for a second before I replied, just to make sure I was being accurate. “A seven out of ten,” I decided. “And you?” Unlike me, April didn’t seem to need the time to think. “An eight,” she told me, “I’m way past the point where I’d usually get up to go to the toilet, unless I was really engrossed in my studying”. I looked at her. “And, uh- this holding while studying… do you do it often?” “Oh, yeah,” she nodded, “when I’m in the middle of a chapter, I hate getting up to use the loo. There’s a stain on my desk chair at home that’ll back me up on that”. She gave me a wry smile, and not for the first time I wondered if maybe April was enjoying this. “But don’t tell me you don’t hold it sometimes, just when you get busy”. “I… not really,” I said honestly. “Really? Don’t you play videogames, or anything?” “Yeah,” I told her, “but I just pause it when I have to go. I thought everyone did”. April sucked in air between her teeth. “I don’t,” she said, “I get too involved. Sometimes I keep playing until I’m leaking”. That raised a question I needed the answer to. “And have you ever.. wet yourself? While you’ve been playing games?” Completely unfazed, she nodded at me. “I regret nothing”. My need to pee was only getting worse by now, and I couldn’t help wondering how much longer I could wait before I suffered the humiliation of having to grab my crotch in front of this woman. I needed the reassurance of knowing she was on the same page as me. “When you have to go,” I started, blushing uncontrollably just from asking the question, “do you ever… you know… hold yourself?” April’s expression didn’t change, and yet I thought I saw the faint hint of a smile in her eyes. “Look under the table,” she said. Though it seemed a strange request, I was powerless to do anything but obey. I bent down until my eyeline was well below the table. The sight made me gasp. April’s left hand, which had been hidden from view when I was sitting up straight, was buried between her thighs. Even in the darkness, I could see that she was squeezing her crotch hard. “Does that answer your question?” She asked when I came back up for air. “Yeah,” I admitted, feeling more desperate than ever, “I only ask because I might need to do the same soon”. April shrugged. “Do it,” she told me, “when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go”.
  9. More commissioned chapters- PM me if you'd like anything for yourself! -------------------------------- They had landed in what looked, to Kate, like something out of a video game. It wasn't night yet, but the city seemed eternally grey, haunted by storm clouds ahead. Fluorescent neon coursed through the veins of Madripoor, creating an endless buzz. The last leg of the flight had not, in truth, been a pleasant one. Turbulence had rocked the plane on more than one occasion. Kate had never been much of a fan of flying, but she liked it a great deal more when her seat didn't jiggle around like a fairground ride, making her stomach turn in circles. Pepper was the first to rise, long before the wheels had stopped turning. She had become a woman permanently in a rush- not without good reason, Kate allowed. "Leave everything in your bags unless you absolutely need it," she told them, "Fury has set up a safe house in the city. All your luggage will be taken there for us. I'll text you all the address later today. We don't have time to waste". They filed off the plane as quickly as the rickety metal staircase would allow, and Kate felt good to be back on solid land again. Somehow, after almost being murdered five or six times, having to climb on and off aircraft every few hours was still by far the thing Kate was hating most about the mission. Still, it would be worth a few bad nights if they found the kid. Personally Kate was starting to doubt that that moment would come, though she'd never say that aloud with Pepper- or anyone else, for that matter- in earshot. With everyone on the runway, it was a little easier to get a proper look at their surroundings. It didn't take a genius to work out that they hadn't landed on a public airstrip; no commercial jet was slender enough to have slotted onto this field, which was so small it barely felt like more than a park. Already men in masks were removing their bags from the plane. Kate wasn't sure if they were undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. agents or just someone working with Fury. She knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. had a presence in Madripoor, from their efforts to capture the Powerbroker, who had turned out to be the gone-rogue former agent Sharon Carter. Sometimes Kate wished she'd taken a leaf out of Sharon's book and just disappeared when the snap had happened. It might have been a whole lot easier. Though it was hard to remember after hours sitting on a plane doing nothing, they really had no time to lose if- as Pepper feared- the girl was somewhere in the city. Carol thought it would be a good idea to split into three teams and cover ground faster, so the seven women gathered just off the runway to be assigned a goal from Pepper. "Shuri will be with me," Pepper explained, pointing her arm towards the south of the city, "this place is teeming with criminals, including Wakandan ones. There's a group of them holed up in an apartment block a few miles south of here, and according to our source they've had dealings with Zemo. I need someone with me who speaks the language". "Won't they recognise... you know... their queen?" "Yeah," said Shuri with a shrug, "but who's gonna believe them? The whole country thinks I'm bedridden with the flu. That's what Okoye is telling them, anyway. I'm accounted for". "Jennifer, Kate," the boss continued, "I need you to check out a warehouse in the east. It's been a long-term storage facility for products manufactured by...?" "Justin Hammer?" Kate said, scratching her back lazily with one hand. "Bingo. It's huge, so I'm hoping your bow and arrow will come in handy, and it's got walls tall enough to keep Jennifer out of public view if she has to go green. The chances of anyone here recognising most of us are slim to none. But even somewhere like this, everybody knows a Hulk when they see one. We can't have our position being given away". That left three women without a team, and Pepper put them together. America and the two Marvels, Kate thought dryly. But as they were splitting up, Kate saw Pepper draw Carol closer for a quiet word. They didn't seem to have been told that Kate could lip read. "...keep an eye on Chavez," Pepper was saying, "I asked Fury about her. He says she's reported to be very powerful. It may be that you're the only one who can take her down if she turns on us”. Kate turned away before they noticed her watching. It was no secret that the women didn't trust America yet, least of all Pepper. But she didn't want to be the root of any trouble. "What was that about?" asked Jennifer as the pair headed east, waiting for Pepper to update their phones with the exact location. "I don't know," Kate lied, "we'll probably find out later". She felt a buzz in her pocket, drew out the modified mobile and saw a GPS signal appear. "It's three miles away, wanna jog?" she teased. "Hell, no," Jennifer said, "we'll get a taxi. I think I can last a ten-minute cab ride without turning into a monster and exposing us". They slipped down an alleyway and into the hustle of the city, wanting to walk far enough away from the others that they wouldn't be seen hailing a cab. Kate didn't think Pepper would be too thrilled with their lack of caution. But she was more interested in this warehouse- something told her Pepper knew more than she let on to send them somewhere so seemingly mundane. Whatever was behind those walls, she doubted it was just a bunch of dusty old machines. ————————————————————————————————————————————— Up close, the streets of Madripoor were just as grim and grimy as they had looked from above. Down every dark alleyway moved shadows that seemed to belong to nobody. Shops with unwashed doors and boarded-up windows lined the sidewalks, and everyone walked with the guilty air of a criminal on the way to their next victim, but without the secrecy usually characteristic of villains in a city where someone might actually try to catch them. Jennifer heard a dozen different languages in the first ten minutes of roaming the place, some of which she even recognised. She remembered enough Spanish from school to understand a sleazy bald man who catcalled them as they passed, and thought the music that slipped through one window was in Japanese. She flipped the bald pervert the bird and let Kate drag her away just as he was looking like starting a scrap. Their attempts to hail a cab had been totally fruitless. For one thing, they couldn't even find one. It made sense to Jennifer that a city where everyone was a crook might not have an official taxi system when she thought about it, so they settled on walking the three miles. They had covered barely one of those when Jennifer started to really feel the weight of her bladder. What had barely been a twinge when they'd landed had quickly turned into something much more pressing. Jennifer didn't know what was up with her lately. Maybe it was the nerves or the excitement of the mission, but she'd been needing to go much more than usual the last few days. Normally she barely ever felt so needy. "I have to use the bathroom," she told Kate as they turned down a side road, following the phone's GPS towards the industrial estate. Kate didn't say anything for a few seconds, as if she was weighing up how to reply. Then she decided: "Yeah, me too," Kate admitted. She kicked an empty can that was sitting on the sidewalk in front of them. Jennifer noticed that it looked, at least in shape, like a normal Coke can- but the packaging was a plain, dull silver instead of red. She wondered what might have been in the can before it was abandoned there. It clattered into a gutter and was still. "But I can hold it," added Kate after a while as if she was worried Jennifer might have thought Kate couldn't. She'd noticed that the young archer was still shy about using the bathroom, even after what they'd been through as a group. "You want a bathroom break?" "Nah," Jennifer said, "it's fine". "You sure?" Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, shooting the younger woman a glance. "Well, I know I can hold it," said Kate, "but I wasn't sure if you wanted to, y'know? Or if you just wanted to go now. We could easily find you an alley, or something". "If you can hold it, I definitely can," Jennifer said indignantly. Kate scoffed. "Really?" she asked, "what about at the gas station? I'm pretty sure you weren't holding it when you disappeared behind the building". Jennifer's face burned at the memory. "That's different," she said, "that was... not pee. And anyway, the only reason you held it longer is because you were all clogged up". "That wasn't the only reason," Kate said, though now it was her turn to blush. "I can hold it longer than any of you, that's the point". A car pulled by quickly. Jennifer made a face. "Longer than Kamala or Shuri? Sure, but not me. No way". She wanted to laugh at Kate's sheer cheek. She knew she had a bigger bladder than this kid. She was a Hulk, after all, and she wasn't going to be defeated by a puny human with no powers. "Especially you," Kate insisted. What the hell, Jennifer thought, this is gonna be a long walk anyway. "Care to make it interesting?" she offered, tilting her head. Kate laughed. "You're on," she said, "last person to use the bathroom wins". "And is officially the better holder," Jennifer added. "And that". They quickly fell into a comfortable silence after that, leaving Kate to wonder if she'd made a mistake. She knew she was too stubborn to give in to Jennifer even if she really had to go, which could easily end in soaked underwear if Jennifer really did have a bigger capacity than her. That stubbornness and refusal to lose was what had made her a great archer, but there were times- like now- where it could be more of a curse than a blessing. The group would probably have to burn these clothes if they didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D. asking why some articles had been pissed and pooped in numerous times in just a few days. Not wanting to think about that, Kate turned her attention back to the city around them. It was gross, dangerous and teeming with bad, bad people. She couldn't help thinking that she might fit in here. It made her think of Clint, before his retirement. He'd have been able to survive in a place like this, too, except he'd have hated every last second of it. He always preferred being with his family on the farm to going on missions, while Kate felt his opposite. Another twenty minutes went by, and Kate really did have to pee badly now. She was in too much discomfort to fool herself into thinking she could wait longer than another half an hour at most, though she would never give Jennifer the satisfaction of admitting it. Walking only made it worse. Her full, bloated bladder bounced with each step, litres of pee sloshing around in there, knowing it would soon be running free between her legs whether she wanted it to or not. Kate wanted to hold herself, but she was still too embarrassed to show any sign of having to go unless she had absolutely no choice left. Jennifer eyed Kate suspiciously. "You gotta go bad, huh?" Kate's face burned hot and she looked away, but kept on walking. They were almost at the warehouse. "No," she lied. "You're taking smaller steps, your thighs are glued together and you've barely said a word in a quarter of an hour. I can tell you have to pee, and I don't think you can wait much longer". Kate hated herself for being so obvious. Her poker face was one of the things she prided herself on most; Clint had taught her never to let someone know what you were thinking with your body language or expression. If Jennifer could read her so easily, she must be losing her touch. "Don't worry, kid," Jennifer said, "I have to pee pretty bad too". Though Kate didn't appreciate being called a kid, the news that Jennifer was struggling too made her feel a little better. "Look, the most important thing here is the mission. We could call it a draw? Pee down a side street somewhere, go check out this warehouse. What do you think?" Kate was about to agree, but then she remembered how dead-set certain Jennifer had been that Kate couldn't hold it longer than her. She knew she had to prove her wrong, or else she'd be seen as barely more than a kid for the rest of the mission. And there was another reason she wanted to hold it, though that was to be kept strictly secret- Kate had to poop, too, and she didn't have anything on her she could use as toilet paper. If she squatted for a leak, she was sure something murky brown would come out too. "No chance," Kate said, "the contest still stands". The warehouse came into view not long after- a huge, grey, hulking shape that towered over every other building for half a mile around. It was the first structure Kate had seen all day that looked big enough to be holding any of the Hammer tech she'd ever come across, so it wasn't hard to pick out which warehouse was their target. Kate was busting by the time they arrived at the foot of the building, and so was Jennifer- now that Kate was looking for the signs, she saw plenty in her companion's demeanour to suggest as much. Both women were surprised not to see a single man around as they hopped the fence around the perimeter. Of course, no security guard was going to have much hope of stopping Jennifer once she transformed, but they had still expected some resistance from Hammer's people. Instead it was eerily quiet, and Jennifer led the way towards a totally unguarded door in the side of one long, dull wall. Kate wondered if that meant the group's arrival in the city had somehow not been detected yet. Usually the bad guys had their ways of finding this stuff out. As much as Kate's bladder was irritating her, she needed to poop almost as badly now. She'd let out a couple of small, silent farts at the end of the walk, and if Jennifer had noticed she had opted to say nothing, for which Kate was grateful. Her bowels weren't exactly full... this was something else, something much hotter, wetter, looser. For once, she wasn't going to need to strain to push this one out. For once, Kate wasn't grateful for the help. They came to a stop outside the door, where Kate unsheathed a purple-tipped arrow from the slim sheath on her back, hidden by her hoodie. This one wasn't for shooting; she stuck it in the lock and the door clicked open seconds later. "Okay," Jennifer said, one leg crossed over the other, unwilling to cede the victory to Kate in spite of what was at stake, "last chance to pee?" Kate would have liked nothing more than to squat right there and piss until she was empty, but she didn't want to risk messing herself, nor did she like the idea of Jennifer's claim to be better at holding going unpunished. "No," said Kate grimly, "we're going in". ——————————————————————————————————— As much as Pepper Potts wanted to focus on the possibility that the key to finding her daughter was just through the next door, she couldn't stop thinking about how badly she had to shit. The urge had hit her suddenly after they landed and it wasn't going to go away any time soon. Whether it was stress or diet, her bowels had been acting up big time since the mission began, and that was manifesting itself yet again as a dire urge to use the toilet. Her butt felt sore from holding in what felt like a massive load for the whole journey through Madripoor. Shuri was having the same problem, Pepper knew, though she was too proud to admit it. The girl had gone deathly quiet and she was walking as only someone trying to clench their buttcheeks walked. They'd only known each other properly for a few days, but already Pepper knew exactly how the Queen of Wakanda looked when she was trying to hold in a dump. Well, if she's not going to say it, I will. "You have to use the bathroom," Pepper said. It wasn't a question. Shuri looked away. "Yes," she said simply. Pepper could empathise with the poor woman. They were both similar in that respect- neither liked to admit when they had to go, instead trying to be proud and concentrate on the task at hand. She wanted to let Shuri go right now, but she couldn't wait outside the door any longer when she knew that some crucial information could lie on the other side of the door they were standing beside. "Me too," Pepper said comfortingly, "we'll find somewhere to go right after we deal with these scumbags, okay?" Shuri swallowed. "Okay," she agreed. Pepper kicked the door down. What waited for them on the other side was not at all what Pepper had been expecting. The room was silent as a church; everything stood still. There were the criminals they'd been promised, all right... bodies strewn around the place, on the couch, at a desk, across the floor. All of them were bleeding from somewhere. Pepper had seen dead bodies before, but nothing on this scale. The chilling sight made her bowels feel heavy and loose, and for a moment she thought she was going to mess herself in fear. She couldn't help noticing that the room did not smell. Pepper had been in rooms with long-dead bodies before, and there was always a smell. A hand moved on the floor nearby, making Shuri jump so suddenly that Pepper thought the girl had surely had an accident. Tony Stark's widow wasted no time, flicking into action and pouncing to stamp on the man's feeble arm. He looked up at them, blood dripping from his mouth- a local, from the looks of him. "Hammer," Pepper demanded. She had no time to be sympathetic towards the dying man. When he didn't answer, she put more of her weight on his wrist. "Where is he?" "Warehouse..." he croaked, then something that sounded like water. Pepper looked at him with something approaching pity. He was going to die, she realised. They could save him if they took him to a hospital right away... but all she could think about now was the warehouse. She assumed he was talking about the same place she'd sent two of her colleagues. The thought of leaving Shuri there to look after the wounded man occurred to Pepper, and yet the cold part of her brain knew she needed Shuri to watch her back. Pepper lifted her foot off of him and whirled around, forcing herself to forget about the painful death that she was condemning this criminal to. "We're going to that warehouse," she announced, trying to ignore the fact that she was dying for a shit and would probably do it in her pants before they got there. Shuri, to her credit, did not flinch. She followed Pepper out of the room and let the door slam shut behind them. Pepper extracted her phone from her pocket and tried to ring first Jennifer, then Kate, but got no reply. "Sorry, Shuri," Pepper said, "we're going to have to hold it a little longer. We're going after them". With that, she shoved her phone away and started taking the stairs down two at a time. It was sorely tempting to suit up and fly Shuri over, but she knew that would attract too much attention and put them both in danger. Instead, all Pepper could do was run... and try and ignore the way her shit was poking out of her ass, desperate to slide out and nestle in her underwear. She didn't much like the idea of fighting bad guys with a turd in her pants.
  10. I freeze like a statue, my brain struggling to comprehend what I’m seeing. I knew there was no lock, of course, but I didn’t think that I’d have any problems; everyone in the family has lived without a lock on the bathroom door for years, so Charlotte’s promised me that as long as I close it all the way I won’t be disturbed while I’m in here. Except that’s obviously not true, because Lily has just sauntered in as if there’s nothing out of the ordinary about the situation at all. Too stunned to move, I’m watching Lily’s movement behind me via the mirror. She looks a little different to last night. Shoulder-length brown hair frames a pale, freckled face, with big blue eyes just like Charlotte’s. But the make-up she’d been wearing when I met her is gone, and so she looks closer to her actual age, which is nineteen. She still looks half-asleep as she crosses the room, but I daren’t turn to face her, instead looking stoically into the mirror. Even though she’s walked in voluntarily on me, I feel like a voyeur even being present for what she’s doing. My breath catches in my throat as Lily pulls down her pyjama bottoms, spins around and plants her bum on the toilet seat… and though I don’t mean to, I catch a glimpse of those pale, smooth cheeks before she turns. A second later, the sound of pee tinkling into the bowl below fills the room. It’s a sound I’ve heard a million times before, though never from a woman. And there’s another noise, too- the sound of Lily sighing in relief. That does it for me- I know I’ve seen enough. But as I go to leave, I remember that my left hand is still clutching the toothbrush I’d been about to use, a glob of paste on the end. “Are you gonna brush your teeth on the landing?” Lily asks dryly, tilting her head with a faint air of curiosity. I don’t know what to say. “Er- no,” I splutter, cheeks reddening, “I mean… yes. I thought I’d give you some privacy”. “Why?” She asks, in a voice that clearly indicates that she doesn’t see what the big deal is, “stay. You were here first. I won’t be long”. Now I’m really confused. My girlfriend, who I’ve been with for two years, who I’ve shared a bed and a toothbrush with, has never let me be so much as near the room while she uses the toilet. Now her sister- a woman I met twelve hours ago- is going right behind me, and she doesn’t seem to mind the audience at all? My brain doesn’t know how to process this information. But, for some bizarre reason, I realise I can’t just leave. That would be rude, especially after she explicitly told me she doesn’t want me to go. So I return to the sink and start to brush my teeth, wondering what on earth Charlotte would say if she walked in on this. To make matters worse, I can’t help but feel a little underdressed. I’m wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a tattered pair of boxers that have long since been my substitute for pyjamas, meaning Lily is getting a good view of my barely-clothed arse right now. A scolding voice in my head slaps that thought away- it’s beyond narcissistic of me to even consider that she might be looking. And all the while I can hear her pissing a waterfall into the loo. When that sound dies out, I see Lily reach for the toilet paper beside her, tearing off a few squares. That’s my cue to get out of there for real. I don’t want to still be around when- It’s too late. Lily opens her legs to wipe and I force myself to look away. I don’t want to see any of it. Suddenly all my insecurities about looking prudish or rude are gone- I just need to look anywhere where I can’t see my girlfriend’s sister wiping her crotch just a few metres behind me. So I finish brushing my teeth, spit the paste as politely as possible into the sink and wash the brush off. “I really don’t mind waiting outside next time,” I say, blushing even further. Lily drops the wet paper into the bowl and flushes with one hand. I have to avert my eyes again as she stands and pulls up her pyjama shorts. Her sex is only in view for a fraction of a second, but in that time I learn that it is hairless and slightly pink, which is a million times more detail than I would ever have wanted to know. “Don’t be silly,” she tuts… but I know she can see that she’s embarrassed me, because she stops on the way out. “Sorry about that,” she says, “usually I’d wait, but I was absolutely busting. I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen before”. Before I can answer, she’s gone again, leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of wee and my stunned, blushing face in the mirror.
  11. Noot

    female Fakes?

    Your suggestion that clear pee is probably fake implies a pretty big gap in your understanding of how pee works? Clear pee is not unusual at all if the person is particularly hydrated. No reason to believe it's fake. Anyway, almost all pee videos are easier to do for real than to convincingly fake.
  12. Definitely, this is only part one of what will probably be ten or twelve chapters!
  13. This one will have sexual content! Sex is part of a lot of my stories but this isn’t by any means gonna be a porno. Feel free to skip those parts of it’s really not for you. I’ve seen a couple long-term readers of my work who aren’t into poop, and most of my stories contain poop… oops. Sorry everyone. So this one is a pure pee story! Hope you enjoy. ———————————————————————— “I’m coming!” Charlotte buries her face in my neck as her whole body convulses with the pleasure of orgasm. I feel hot, sour morning breath on my cheek and chestnut hair tickling my chin. As her muscles tense up, the sensation proves too much for me and I explode inside her, holding her close, feeling her slowly calm down and be still again. It takes a long time for both of us to finish finishing. For a moment we just lie there, calm, content. I love the feeling of her uneven breasts squishing against my chest, hard nipples digging into my flesh. I love to stroke her hair as she’s lying on me. By now I can really feel the urgency of my morning piss in my bladder, but the scene is too perfect to give up on so soon. I had known I needed to pee from the moment I woke up, but when Charlotte had rose to straddle me, all that was put on the back burner. I lean forward and give her the softest of kisses on the top of the head In the end it’s Charlotte who breaks off the post-sex embrace. My cock falls limp and sticky between my legs now that it’s not in her anymore. She makes to get out of bed. “Come back,” I mumble, not wanting to lose the intimate moment before I have to. “I’m only going for a wee,” Charlotte tuts, “I’ll be back for round 2 later”. “Come on, Lottie,” I chide- Lottie is what I call her when I want her to do something for me- “just a a few more minutes. I bet you could hold it”. “You know I could,” she retorts, “but it’s not about that, anyway. If I don’t wee I could get a UTI or something”. That’s fair enough, I suppose. “Fine,” I concede, giving up the hug, “but can I come too? I’m busting”. I’m not exaggerating, either. I really do need to go to the loo soon. Charlotte smiles knowingly, but doesn’t give me the answer I want. “You wait here,” she orders, “you can go for a piss when I get back”. She starts to walk away, and I can’t help staring at her tight little booty as she goes. “Why? It’s been two years and I’ve still never seen you on the loo”. “And you never will,” she tells me with a smirk. “Those things are better kept private, you know how I feel about this”. I know better than to argue with Charlotte, so I watch her leave and focus on holding in my pee until she comes out. I love her, of course I do, but I don’t like the intense privacy she still wears like armour when she’s around me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised- her whole family are majorly uptight, rich types who would never admit they don’t piss rosewater and shit gold (at least the ones I’d met, anyway). Not for the first time, I wish Charlotte would just trust me to be in the room without looking. Now that my erection has subsided, I find myself wondering what might happen if Lily is already in the bathroom. Lily is Charlotte’s little sister, a freshmen who had moved to the city and needed someplace to stay while she looked for an affordable flat. I only met Lily briefly last night, so I don’t know much about her other than what Charlotte’s told me- that her sister likes to eat junk food and get drunk all the time, that she wants to explore the town… and that she likes to spend an age in the shower. But it doesn’t sound like Lily is in there today, because I hear Charlotte walk straight into the bathroom and close the door behind her. There was no lock- her parents, apparently satisfied that everyone else in the family would know what a closed door means, had never bothered to replace it. This left me with a predicament of my own- a fast-growing desperation to piss and nowhere to aim it until my girlfriend is out of the toilet. She could be a minute… but if she wants to do anything more than a quick leak, as I suspect, I’m going to struggle to hold it. In past relationships I’d have simply pissed in the sink, but Charlotte forbids that kind of thing so passionately that I never bother arguing. I’m forced to squeeze the tip of my dick closed while I wait uncomfortably for Charlotte to return. When I hear her flush the toilet, I get ready to make a run for the bathroom. As a last thought, I hastily pull on the same t-shirt and oversized boxers I’d left on the ground from the night before. When Charlotte gets back I can barely stand still. There’s no time for apologies as I rush past her toward the bathroom, feeling my bladder control start to slip at last. I close the door behind me, just about extract my member from the boxers in time and point it towards the bowl just as piss starts to erupt from the tip. I moan loudly in relief, unable to hold back the noise of pleasure. When I’m finished, I return to the mirror over the sink at the other end of the bathroom to check my face and hair. Just as I’m brushing up a little, the door opens again, startling me. It’s Lily, wearing nothing but a cute pair of pink and baby-blue pyjamas. She glances at me on the way in, marching straight for the toilet.
  14. Good omo content is hard to find- but partly that's because everyone has their own unique tastes! I like a lot of different omo content, but my personal favourites always involve talking. Always.
  15. This is just a short one to point out I haven't quit this story yet! --------------------- “From one to ten,” she said dryly, looking down at her notepad, “how inhibited would you say you feel normally about your bathroom habits?” I thought about this for a while. “Nine,” I said eventually, “When I’m sober, I almost never admit if I have to go and I could definitely never wee with you standing right there”. She noted that down. “And how inhibited are you right now?” “Four?” I suggested. “I mean, I’m still feeling kind of shy but I did just take a leak with you standing right there”. I swallowed. “I’ve never been to the toilet with anyone watching before. Not someone who wasn’t related to me, at least”. “I’ve never seen anyone I wasn’t related to go before,” April acknowledged, “I get the impression it’s normal for girls of my age to wee in front of their friends, but I don’t really have anyone like that”. That didn’t surprise me too much. “How did I do?” I joked. “Took a little long to get going, but that’s probably just nerves,” April said with a shrug. I should’ve known not ask a rhetorical question. She drunk more of that white wine, and already half seemed to be gone. “My hypothesis is that that number will go from four to two or maybe even one by the end of the night. The more you drink, the less shy you seem to be. “So what do we do in the meantime?” “We wait,” April said, “enough questions for now. Do you play Mario Kart?”
  16. Alana's ears were pounding; she could barely hear herself think. All around her were students of every variety, all crammed into one house that was simply too small to fit the hundred or so kids who had turned up. Still, it was a Friday night- only the third one of the term- and there was no point in staying at home while all of her friends went to check out the party. And, like most parties so far that term, Alana had found herself going from reluctant to thrilled as soon as she'd had a couple of strongly mixed dinks. Although cleaning up Becky's bed the morning after her little incident had been worse than a nightmare, the two girls had kept each other's secrets. It turned out that Alana did know the boy her friend had fucked in her room. She'd been too pissed to recognise him at the time, but he was an ex of Zoe's, and Becky didn't want anyone else knowing that they'd hooked up. In truth, Alana found the thought of what might have happened on her bed more unsettling than the memory of what she'd done to Becky's. So neither girl was ever telling. That, now, was over two weeks ago. Alana's life had changed in two huge, interconnected ways since she'd moved into the flat with her college friends. Firstly, she was drinking far more, going out almost every night and partying harder than she'd known her body was capable of. Secondly- and this was, she had to admit, purely a result of the first thing- she was having accidents on the regular. Alana had been prone to the occasional leak or little panty poop before, like most girls. But since moving in, these occasions had skyrocketed. She'd barely used the toilet for number two since moving in, and she'd wet herself more times than she could count now. Now it was starting to feel like another moment was coming. Alana was dying to use the bathroom, but she couldn't quite find it. It would have been manageable if she only needed a piss- she could sneak out the back to the alleyway where the boys were going instead of queueing up for the toilet. Sure, they might laugh at her, or be a little pervy, but it was much better than wetting herself. The trouble was that she had to shit too. Yet again, she'd managed to get herself good and drunk- far too drunk. It was beginning to seem that she had something of a problem. Alana had been a drinker for a few years before university, but in the last month she hadn't known when- or how- to stop. She floated from room to room, never stopping for a conversation with anyone, just trying to keep herself conscious. If she blacked out, there was no telling what bizarre shit she might end up doing. With desperation getting worse, Alana steeled herself and summoned up the control to start one last lap of the house, looking around for the bathroom. There had to be one somewhere. She started by the front of the house, but if there was a toilet here she couldn't see the door. From there she had to push into the living room, then the kitchen at the back. The layout seemed unfamiliar and confusing. It reminded her of the club on their first night, when she'd wet herself trying to find the bathroom. She would have to check upstairs again. Alana pushed through the crowd, eyes half-shut, trying to suppress the rumbling aches in her belly. In her state, time seemed to fly by at double speed, and her need to go was picking up at an increased rate, too. Still she couldn't stop sipping from the cup in her hand, an overly strong mix of whiskey and water that she'd poured when they ran out of Pepsi. Her pussy felt just about ready to start leaking, but she was still clinging onto the last fragments of her sobriety, and with it just enough self-control to keep her panties dry. That wouldn't last much longer, though, if she couldn't find the loo soon. Very soon. The slow, painful climb up the house's only set of stairs almost did her in. Around halfway up, Alana felt the first leak arrive in her underwear. She was powerless to stop it. When she farted loudly, she would have been grateful for the music's cover... if she wasn't so drunk that she didn't even care who heard her farting anymore. She had to drag herself up with one hand on the railing. Another leak spurted out, enough to turn the crotch of her panties dark. Alana couldn't care less that the stain was visible now. She just wanted to get to the toilet in time. Her stomach cramped viciously again, and suddenly something sludgy and slippery slid out of her hole. It wasn't much, just a slug-sized stain against her cheeks, but she couldn't deny that she'd shit herself a little. By now she was at the top of the stairs at last and looking around frantically for the toilet. It wasn't the locked door opposite the landing, nor the next to her left, which she opened to find two half-naked guys going at it on the bed... so she turned away and stumbled down the hall, losing control. Finally, at long last, the bathroom came into view. It was empty, too, with a wide open door, the light switched on and a clear pathway to a toilet that looked good enough to ruin. Alana was a few steps away when she started to piss and shit herself at the same time. Her sphincter simply snapped, and hot, brown sludge erupted out into her underwear. At the same time her pussy started seeping out pee like a burst pipe. Now she felt her jeans getting wet, all the way down her thighs and past her knees. Now she felt the bulge forming behind her. She tried to waddle the last few steps to the bathroom, but everything happened so quickly that her jeans were already damaged beyond saving within the first five seconds. She'd let the pressure build for too long, and the inevitable explosion had been the worst she could remember. After the initial panic was absorbed, Alana started towards the toilet, wanting to get some privacy. But her legs were weak and intoxicated, and she tripped and fell right onto the landing, still peeing hard, still letting chunks of wet poop spit out of her once-tight hole. As she was on the floor, she caught a glimpse of feet nipping in front of her, then the bathroom door slamming shut and locking. Though Alana scrambled to her feet again, she was too late. The door was closed. All she could do was back away, then retreat down the stairs, scrambling past people coming the other direction. At the bottom she ran into Megan, who grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her up and down, concern in her eyes. The next think Alana knew she was being led out of the front door by Megan and Zoe, the cold air making her pee-soaked denim jeans cling to her thighs. She wanted to say something to them- wanted, she thought, to tell them to go back in and enjoy the party, let her walk home alone. Instead she pivoted and threw up on the pavement the moment she opened her mouth. "I'm worried about her," she heard a voice say- Megan's voice, she thought, though it was hard to tell over the sounds of her own heaving. Alana spat out the last of her sick, turned, staggered, almost fell. "Go back in," she moaned, "I can walk". They were having none of it. Alana couldn't resist in her state. She let them march her down the street, one on either side. And, though she didn't say anything, she felt poop running down the back of her left thigh. ——————————————————————————————————————————— The next twenty minutes of Alana's life went by in flashes, and she remembered almost none of it by the time they were back at the flat. They'd passed a handful of other students, some of whom had asked about her. Once she'd had to stop to throw up again. By the end of it the strength in her legs was almost gone altogether. Alana felt heavier than a sack of bricks and weaker than a rubber band. Without the support on either side of her two friends, she was sure she'd have simply collapsed and passed out on the street. The girls got her into the flat a few hours after midnight. Dragging her up the stairs was a challenge, but she managed to lift a leg at a time until she found herself in her room, with them by her side. They stripped her off and put her in the shower. Alana was in no position to complain as they practically hosed her off with jets of hot water. Megan commanded her to turn and face the wall while Zoe washed the poop off of her legs and out of her crack. Some of it had trickled all the way down to the back of her ankle. Next thing she knew, she was being dried with one of the towels she had used before leaving that night. Feeling like a ragdoll, Alana let her friends scrub beneath her armpits, against her legs and across her back until she was more or less dry. Being drunk themselves, they could hardly be expected to do a top-class job of it. They left her in bed, slightly clammy and feeling like she was going to throw up again, with an empty bucket and a glass of cold water on her bedside table. Alana lay there, in the dark and the damp, doused in shame. She was barely starting to sober up, but memories of what had happened at the house party were coming fresh into her mind again like nightmares. It was only pure luck that she hadn't filled her pants in front of everyone, but then surely half the party would have seen her being led out of the place in tears... she'd known she had to go, but she'd been so drunk... hadn't been able to find the bathroom in time... hadn't been able to control herself a second longer. She woke up the next morning and instantly realised that she'd ruined the bed in her sleep. It was bright outside, which Alana knew thanks to the awful job that her blinds were doing of keeping the sun out of her way. The sheets around her were soaked, cold and stinking to high heaven. In a way she supposed that she shouldn't be surprised. She'd gone to bed without properly emptying herself, too drunk to think about anything but lying down and passing out. Beneath her ass now was the price she was paying for that carelessness. A thick pile of poop had come out some time during the night, and already had cooled off in the puddle of piss that she'd done. Alana was too hungover to panic. She simply tossed the sheets off, over her body and out of the way. They landed in a pathetic heap on the floor. Between her naked thighs was a horror of a mess. Her head pounded worse than ever, and her belly churned as if she might throw up. The bucket that had been left beside her lay untouched, as did the glass of water. Now Alana wished she'd used both. It took more effort than she cared to admit to haul herself out of bed, taking it a step at a time, worried she might fall again. Fortunately- if you could call it that- the strength seemed to have returned to her legs, even if her brain still felt jarred and half-asleep. She went to the mirror on the door of her closet, flicked on the light switch by the door and forced herself to assess just how bad the damage was. Alana quickly wished she hadn't. Her thighs and groin were caked in poop, even in places it had no right to be. She couldn't even bare to look at her sorry self for longer than a few seconds. As she stripped the sheets off of her bed, just as she had to Becky's bed on that first week, Alana wondered what had happened to her. She bundled everything up and shoved it as deep into her laundry basket as it would go- sheets, pillowcases, the works. Already in there was everything she'd worn the night before. She didn't want to look at it, or smell it any more than she had to. By some miraculous stroke of luck there was no stain left over on the mattress. Alana climbed back into the shower the second her laundry was in the bag. She couldn't stand to walk around so dirty any longer, legs and pubes sticky with dried piss. Part of her still felt drunk, but she remembered the technique her friends had used to wash herself clean the night before and did her best to replicate that with the shower head. Groaning and grossed out, Alana rubbed between her growing bum cheeks with one hand, trying to clear out every last trace of poo. She was just about to put conditioner in her pee-stained bush when the worst stomach cramp of her life suddenly hit. There was no time to stop it; she had no more strength left to prevent what needed to happen. Still standing in the shower, leaning against one ice-cold wall for support, Alana started to squirt diarrhoea onto the floor. Her bowels voided themselves noisily and violently. She could do nothing but close her eyes and wait for it all to be over. Since arriving at university not one month ago Alana had had more alcohol-induced accidents than she could still keep count of, but this almost felt like the low point to her. She was shitting herself not two metres from the toilet and there was no way she could stop it. When she began to pee, too, she made no effort to prevent it. After all, how much worse could the mess even get? ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————— As far as festival weather went, it didn't get much better than Saturday, 28th August- at least by British standards. The sun had come up at six in the morning and wouldn't disappear until well past eight that night. By lunchtime it was scorching, turning the black metal of the bins in the park scalding hot to the touch and reddening the skin of anyone short-sighted enough to turn up without suncream. They were calling it a blessing from the gods; it had poured with rain for the last four days and the ground was still thick with black mud. Well over sixty thousand people were packed between the site walls along the Southsea seafront for a festival on its second of three days. By the early afternoon, if not before, at least half of that sixty thousand were drunk. The whole place bustled with energy, from street theatre around every corner to artists performing on one of the half-dozen stages around the place. Food stalls and bars lined the sides of each walkway, set up thirty metres wide just to make sure there was enough space for the festival-goers to fit through. A queue for the bar would set you back twenty minutes if you were lucky. Finally at the front of that queue, Alana stood beside Alex, a debit card waiting in her hand. They'd waited long enough for the next round of drinks, and it was Alana's turn to buy. She wasn't looking forward to checking her bank balance in the morning. At first, the five women had tried to remember everyone's order and buy each drink individually. That hadn't gone well. Since the first disastrous attempt, when Zoe had returned with almost none of what people had actually wanted, the girls had agreed to just stick to five beers. Alex had offered to come with Alana because she wanted to get a look at the queues for the toilets, to see if they'd gotten any shorter yet. Meanwhile, their three friends were spread out on a picnic blanket closer to the stage. Megan was their resident festival expert, and she'd insisted they all got there early to make sure they picked out a good spot for the day's music. That had also meant that they had started drinking early, so Alana felt nicely buzzed as she stood and waited for the barman to pour five pints. She stole a glance at her phone, which had largely been forgotten for once in the excitement of the day. It was almost two o'clock now, four hours after they'd arrived and bought the first drink. Lunch had been a huge meal, an assortment of dishes from the surrounding food trucks that the girls had split and shared like a variety platter. Washed down with beer, Alana hadn't tasted anything so good in a long time. When the bartender held up a machine for payment, Alana touched her card against it and took three of the beers away, leaving the other two for Alex to carry. The bars at this festival operated a one-way system- you had to queue on one side, buy your drinks and leave through the other end. Alana and Alex emerged near one of the toilet blocks, where lines were stretching back for twenty metres or more. There were simply too many people and not enough toilets here. They'd noticed the problem right away, but there didn't seem to be much they could do about it other than wait in line. It was a pain in the arse, Alana thought, but they couldn't exactly go home. So far she'd only needed to go once and it had been a nightmare. Having underestimated how long the queue would take, Alana had arrived at the back of the line when she was already quite desperate for a piss. By the time she reached the front of the queue she was bursting, and had barely made it into a port-a-potty in time. Inside was as disgusting and cramped as those things always were, but she'd been too pre--occupied with relief to care. That half an hour queueing outside had been one of the most uncomfortable waits of her life. Now Alana only felt lucky that she hadn't needed the toilet again since, though she knew that the time would come where she'd need to rejoin one of those horrible lines and hope she could hold it until she got to the front. It wasn't the most dignified of festivals. Together with Alex, she carried the drinks back through a crowd of tens of thousands in front of the main stage. It was an awkward, slow process, with plenty of delicate stepping over belongings and semi-polite excuse me's. Eventually they found the others, lounging about with sunglasses and half-empty cups. Sitting down with her friends on the blanket, Alana only had a few minutes to talk before the next band started. She hadn't a clue who most of the artists were until later that evening when the headliners came on, but with a bit of beer in her belly Alana was the kind of girl who could enjoy just about any music. The bass was loud enough to shake the earth, everyone started to move and soon Alana completely forgot about needing to go to the toilet. —————————————————————————————————————————————— By three there was no denying it: Alana needed the bathroom. She had hoped to stave off the urge to for as long as possible, but the combination of her fifth beer in as many hours plus some of the water Megan had made her drink to stave off dehydration had left her certain that she had to get to the toilets. To put it mildly, Alana wasn't looking forward to the excursion. She doubted the queues had gotten any better since the last time she was there, and the wait would be boring at best, painful at worst... but still the rational part of her knew that things would only get more complicated the longer she put off going. So she asked the group if any of them had to go too, on the off-chance that someone might come and keep her company. Annoyingly, though, they all seemed wrapped up in the band that had just come on, so Alana ventured out alone, through the herds of people until the music grew a little quieter and the crowds got a little thinner. Here she could at least hear herself think, even if it was a hell of a lot more lonely. Just as she'd dreaded, the line for the block of toilets closest to the stage was enormous. If it was possible, she thought it had even grown since her last trip to the bar. There were only a measly twelve port-a-potties there, for a stage watched by what had to be twenty thousand people or more. Alana knew she could go deeper into the festival to look for a quieter set of loos, but that was a risk that might only cost her more time. Reluctantly, she joined the back of a line that looked slightly shorter than the others, though there were still at least twenty people in front of her. As she crawled closer and closer, and the minutes ticked on, Alana started to get desperate. What had begun as a little twinge in her bladder evolved into a throbbing discomfort at an alarming speed. Soon she couldn't stand still, and one leg crossed over the other in an effort to relieve some of the pressure. She wasn't the only one, either- half the other people lining up for the loos were either visibly reaching the point of urgency or talking to each other about how badly they had to go. Eventually, with only a handful more people in front of Alana's squirming body, two drunk girls stumbled across the front of the port-a-potties. They both wore the most over-the-top festival outfits Alana had ever seen, and one was grabbing her pussy shamelessly, bent over and clearly about to wet herself. "Fuck, is that the line?" asked the other one, who was dragging the desperate girl behind her. "I can't hold it that long, Bex, I'm gonna piss myself," she moaned. The first girl kept pulling her friend along, and Alana heard her say "come on, we'll find a bush or something". A few minutes later Alana heard people muttering behind her, and turned to see people moving away from a man in the line beside hers. He was looking down at the ground, red-faced, as a huge dark patch spread across the front of his beige cargo shorts. They were a thin material. Alana could see the outline of his dick pressed against them, still pissing hard. Clearly he hadn't been able to hold it, and had lost control right before reaching the front of the line. Seeing this cute guy have a very public accident only made Alana need to go even worse. It was almost lucky that the booze had taken some of the sting out of her inhibitions, because she didn't think she would have been able to hold it if not for the occasional squeeze of her pussy through her jean shorts. Nobody around her seemed to mind or even notice- they were mostly too desperate themselves to care what she needed to do to keep her pants dry. At last, just as she was starting to seriously doubt whether or not she could make it, Alana found herself with nobody else between her and the grey, plastic door. All she had to do now was hold out until whoever was in there now came out- Suddenly a girl was there in front of her, no older than twenty. Alana only needed one glance to know that she was utterly bursting. "Please, let me go in front," the girl begged, "I'm starting to wet myself. Please". Alana saw the door open behind the girl, and a relieved-looking young man step out. She felt a single leak of hot pee spurt out of her pussy, and that made the decision for her. "I'm sorry," Alana said, pushing as gently as she could manage past the dancing girl, "I can't hold it anymore". She locked the door behind her while the girl cursed and squirmed, then tore down her jean shorts and panties at the very last second. Alana was pissing before she had even sat down. The seat below her bare ass was soaked with piss, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She even had to lean forward and hold the lockless door closed as she emptied her bladder, unable to hold back a moan of the most intense relief. It was only when, a whole minute later, Alana was finished peeing that she realised there was no toilet paper left in the stall. Instead two useless brown cardboard cylinders were strewn on the floor, soggy from badly-aimed men's urine. Usually Alana would use a sleeve in a situation like this but she was wearing a sleeveless top for the heat. So, feeling tipsy now she wasn't so desperate, she wiped her pussy a few times with her bare hand and then rubbed the liquid off onto her jean shorts. Then she pulled them back up, eager to get out so that the next person could get some relief too. When she got out of the port-a-potty, Alana was met with a sight that made her feel awful: the desperate girl she'd turned away was standing there, tight denim shorts completely soaked. She was being consoled by an older woman in the queue, who gave Alana a dirty look. Alana couldn't bare to look at them. She rushed away, leaving the crying girl to stand there in her ruined clothes. But I had no choice, Alana told herself, if I had let her go first, that would be me standing there crying right now. ————————————————————————————————————————— Though she'd have been ashamed to admit it, Alana had all but forgotten about the girl in the wet shorts by the time she'd had dinner and a few more drinks. Well, maybe a few more would be an understatement- perhaps a lot more was a better choice of words. Alana was thoroughly sloshed, but still just about on the fun side of drunk, getting into every band that came on and laughing at every bad joke the lead singers told in between songs. She'd gotten used to heading to the toilet queues the minute she felt the need to pee. So far, caution was paying off. Alana walked away from the Churro stand with three portions bundled up carefully in her arms- as carefully as a drunk nineteen-year-old could manage, anyway. Here, the festival was a little quieter now, as almost everyone had flocked to one of the stages to watch the last few bands play. As she walked she saw something that caught her eye. Just off the main footpath, behind a thick oak tree, a man was taking a piss. He was apparently too drunk to notice that he wasn't covering himself very well, and she could see the pink outline of his cock, not to mention a thick yellow stream that splattered against the trunk. At first, Alana thought next to nothing of it- after all, men relieved themselves against trees all the time, especially drunk ones. But only a few feet further down the path, there was someone else going to the toilet behind a bush. This one was a woman, judging by her long hair and the way she was squatting down. A sober Alana would've looked away politely, but drunk, she couldn't help staring. It took her a while to realise that there was a thick, brown log dangling out of the girl's bare bum. Only then did Alana properly start to look around, and then she saw how bad things had become. Dozens of people, apparently either unwilling or unable to stomach the long queues, were relieving themselves out in the open, sometimes with barely any cover. Behind a few trees she saw a group of women squatting and pissing together. She saw a relieved-looking guy who looked like he was taking a dump up against a lamppost. Further on, a girl no older than Alana was peeing standing up through her skirt while her boyfriend kept watch. Alana knew that at least a few of the festival-goers would be forced to go outside, thanks to the insane toilet shortages. But she would never have guessed just how wide the issue spread. In just a few minutes she counted sixteen people who were either pissing or shitting outdoors... and those were just the ones who were too desperate or too drunk to bother hiding it very well. Alana checked her phone. The only band she really wanted to watch all day were due to start in a few minutes. So, still unable to believe what she was seeing around her, she hurried back towards the main stage with the churros. She made it back to her friends with a few minutes to spare before the band was due to start, and eagerly relaid what she'd seen. "People are pissing and shitting all over the place," she told them, "there's just not enough toilets". "I'm not surprised," Megan said, lifting her sunglasses off her head, "next time I need a wee I'm just gonna go over there. Fuck queueing another half an hour". The others seemed to agree, to Alana's surprise. But she decided that she, too, would follow the lead of the people she'd seen emptying their bladders outside next time she had to go. She already felt a little twinge in her bladder just thinking about it. But she wasn't sure she would be as happy to take a dump outside, especially with no toilet paper. Soon Becky was back with five more drinks, and the band was about to start. Alana pushed thoughts of pee and poop to the back of her mind once again. She still had more room in her bladder for now, so she drunk up again. ———————————————————————————————— It would have been bad enough if Alana was dying for a pee by the time the set came to a close. She knew her body well enough to know that that was a possibility, anyway. But she had forgotten all about the risk of the urge to take her evening poo coming on a little early, spurred on by the bucketloads of unhealthy food she and her friends had gobbled down over the course of the day. Her bowels first stirred just after the first song started and got steadily stormier until she was having to clench her cheeks closed just to keep it in. In truth, though, she was having too good a time to tear herself away from the band prematurely. The booze had warmed her blood (and gotten her completely wasted in the process), and she pushed right o the front to dance and sing every word at the top of her lungs. Even towards the back end of the show, when she was really starting to feel bursting, it only dampened Alana’s spirits a little. Besides, when she heard the opening guitar riff of one song, she knew she wouldn’t have to wait much longer- this was the tune they always closed a set with. Sure enough, by the end of the song the crowd was going crazy and the band we’re walking off stage. Alana took that as her cue to turn and get out of there, squeezing past dozens of cheering fans. Most people at the front were staying for the last two bands of the night, so Alana passed them all until she reached her friends- who also wanted to stick around. “I really need the toilet,” she told them, almost having to yell over the crowd behind her, “I’ll be back here as soon as I can!” As luck would have it, none of her friends wanted the toilet, so she would have to go alone. For once Alana was grateful for the solitude. Her bowels wouldn’t wait much longer, and she was starting to suspect that she’d be forced to do something of which some of them probably wouldn’t approve- take a crap on the grass, preferably somewhere with enough coverage that no passersby could see her arse squeezing it out. Alana pushed through the crowd, but at least half the spectators had also chosen this moment for a toilet break, it seemed. It felt like there were thousands of them, all positioned just the right way to block her path and all moving so damn slowly that she almost couldn’t believe it. It was like some supernatural force had placed this army of human slugs there to force her to shit her panties. Within a few minutes she was genuinely worried that they would make her have an accident. Either that or she started a stampede to get through them, which seemed appealing to her now even if the possibility of a mass human crush was very much real. After what felt like an era, Alana spilt out into a bit of space, right at the back of where the crowd had formed on the main lawn. She stumbled free of the sea of people and looked over at the toilet block. It took one glance to tell Alana that everything she’d feared was true: there was just no way she would make it in time if she tried to line up there. She would have to find somewhere else to conduct her urgent business. So she pushed on, knowing that even without toilet paper this was her only option. The crowd thinned out some more and soon Alana was walking freely again, with enough space for people to flow in the other direction without almost crashing into her. She was near the limits of both her bladder and bowels, making walking more difficult than ever. A few times she thought she might have leaked into her shorts, only for her fingers to come away dry and Alana to breathe a sigh of relief. For now- only for now- she was just about getting away with it. It felt incredible to finally find herself in the place where other guests had been going in the bushes earlier. But this time something was different. She looked to where she’d seen the woman having a poo earlier and saw two stern-looking police officers instead, hands in pockets, watching everything. Even as drunk as she was, and as desperate as she was, Alana knew better than to try and go to the toilet here. She knew people who had been arrested for public indecency- even when they’d tried to explain that they had been about to have an accident, the cops had put them in the back of the car anyway. There was no way Alana could go here… but she needed to go somewhere, that much was beyond doubt. She had no more than a matter of seconds before losing control. There was one more place where she might be able to make it before then. Alana kept walking, barely holding on now. She needed to get past the trees and out of sight of the officers. The last thing she needed was to have an accident here, where so many people would see. Knowing her luck she was bound to bump into someone she knew if that happened. Alana stole another glance over her shoulder, checking to see that neither of the policemen were following. Now they were far away enough that she could barely make out either fluorescent jacket. Every step felt like it could be the last before she started to void her bowels into her underwear, and doubtless a total loss of bladder control would soon follow. Alana wasn't sure whether to squeeze her crotch or her butt, so in the end she alternated between both, trying to apply pressure to whichever muscle needed the most support in the moment. Before she had even realised it, Alana found herself surrounded by people again. Under the dim lighting of a clouded moon, she saw a shape moving behind the bushes. Then another followed, and her drunken eyes made out two people. One of them was squatting over the grass, while the other- a boyfriend, she guessed- seemed to be peeing into the hedge. Alana glanced around and spotted another guy taking a leak against a nearby wall. Clearly, this place was out of the reach of the cops, if they even cared. It would have to do. She rushed off the main path and behind a line of trees, where right away she was met with a handful more toilet-goers. Her fingers fumbled for the button of her shorts, missing on the first try in her stupor. Alana spurted pee into her panties again- hot, fast and too sudden to stop. She could feel herself turtleheading at the back. The second leak came quickly; she knew that it would turn into a heavy flow long before she could do anything about it. Steeling herself, Alana tried again... and this time the button came loose. Relief was so close that she could almost taste it. Alana went to squat over the mud and let it rip, but her left foot slipped on the wet surface and she went sprawling. For a second she put out her arms in a last-ditch effort to get her balance back, but it was far too late, and Alana hit the mud with a loud splat. She could barely hold her arms up to cushion the fall, too drunk to keep her footing anymore. The impact of hitting the ground proved to be the final straw for Alana. At once she felt her bladder give in, and hot piss was suddenly streaming down her legs, soaking through the fabric of her shorts and running along her thighs. At the same instant she started to shit her pants. Her tight hole was forced open by the first log, a monster turd wet and loose enough to squish into her panties. The squelching, farting sound it made was unmistakable even over faint music coming from a nearby stage. She tried to get to her feet, but a combination of severe drunkenness and the exhaustion her body was going through made it impossible to stand. All Alana could still do was push herself up into some pathetic, almost foetal crouching position and let it happen. She curled up into a ball and felt her panties fill up with warm brown sludge. Her pee soaked into the bush she hadn't bothered to trim, already beginning to give off that familiar, salty scent. It felt like a long time before she stopped going in her pants. At last, when the final few drops of pee were drained out of her bladder, Alana managed to get back onto her own two shaky feet. People were staring. She couldn't stay here. So she fled, walking as fast as she could manage inconspicuously and rounding the corner into the market area of the festival. Before long she was gone, well out of sight of the piss puddle she had left on the ground. Anyone who had seen what she'd done was miles away now. And they weren't going to catch up with her. Alana went to one of the stalls selling clothes. Anything- literally anything- would do. She got out her debit card and started to look for some new trousers. They didn't even need to fit her- as long as they weren't filled to near overflow with her own poop, they were better than what she had on. When she got back to her friends wearing a brand new pair of trousers, she could just tell them she’d seen a pair she liked. Whether they were dumb enough to believe her was a very different question. ———————————————————————————— There was nothing quite like the feeling of walking through the dark city streets absolutely shit-faced. Alana was too drunk to speak as she followed the flock back to their flat, wincing away from the brightness every time she passed beneath a streetlight. Every now and then a car would roar past, but Alana couldn't focus on any more than colour and shape. Sometimes, her brain tuned in and out of the drunken conversations her friends were having, like she was listening to a broken radio. Even the cold night air only did a little to sober her tired brain. They had only left the club ten minutes ago, only because the staff were starting to get ready for closing time. It was a Thursday, and it had been Wednesday when they'd arrived. None of the girls had a class until the next afternoon, so they decided to take advantage of cheap drinks and free entry at a nightclub just down the road from their usual haunts. It had been nothing special, they all agreed... but those prices certainly went a long way to making it feel like one of the best nights out in town. You could get drunk out of your mind for half the cost of a bigger bar. And there was a free coke machine in the corner. All in all, not a bad find. Alana had mostly walked with her head down, following the feet of her friends, but now she was starting to recognise the streets around them. Though they'd taken a different route home, the flat was nearby. She was content to trail behind them a little, and every now and then someone- usually Megan- would glance back to make sure she wasn't falling too far from the pack. None of them wanted to explain to Alana's parents how they'd lost her somewhere in the Northern Quarter just before sunrise. Her skimpy outfit wasn't doing much to keep out the cold, but it was at least clean and dry, of which Alana was more than a little proud. This was one of the first nights all month where she'd managed to avoid an accident. That wasn't to say there hadn't been close calls- she'd almost pissed herself in the queue for the toilets once- but when she'd left the club with her outfit undamaged, it was hard not to be pleased with herself. Almost before she knew it, Alana's group were walking up the road to their student hall building again. Out of nothing she remembered how many times she'd made this journey with her parents, the day she moved in. They'd gone up and down the stairs until her legs were aching and her back felt sore, and she'd only wanted them to drive off so that she could settle in and take a crap. The stairwell was infinitely warmer than outside, so they shuffled in like penguins searching for heat. Alana needed to pee. She hadn't even realised until they were inside, but now here it was. She followed her friends up the first set of stairs, everyone still talking drunkenly- experience had shown that anyone inside the flats wouldn't be able to hear a word they were saying. If there was one thing Alana hated about these flats, it was the stairs. Every time she wanted to get back to her bed, it took what felt like half an hour of trekking up bizarrely steep steps before she could even reach the front door. More than once she'd fantasised about buying a chairlift for the building, though her budgets were sadly limiting. The five girls split up at the summit. A couple liked to head to the kitchen to drink some water and unwind before bed, and sometimes Alana joined them, but tonight she just wanted to strip off, take a leak and climb beneath her sheets. She had a class in ten hours that she couldn't afford to miss, hungover or not. So she said goodnight to her friends and watched them disappear off, some to the kitchen and some to their own rooms. They fumbled through the dark; none of them liked to turn on the lights in this state. The first thing Alana always felt when she got back into her room at night was a blast of heat. She always turned on her radiator before she went out, to keep the cold out for when she got home. It was October, after all, and the evenings were getting chillier by the week. She'd come to love the warmth of her room, even if it always left her sweaty when she woke up. Before the door even closed she was already stripping off her clothes. Her phone and purse were chucked unceremoniously on the desk. Off came the skimpy little top she wore to make her boobs look bigger, then her jeans, her underwear. All of it joined the top of a growing pile on the floor, which she tended to sort out every week or so, when she could be bothered. It felt great to be naked in a hot room. Then Alana stumbled into her bathroom, the door to which was permanently wide open these days. She sat on the toilet, the lid of which was permanently wide open these days. Her bladder let go without much prompting. Alana leaned over, sighed and let it out, hearing her pee hiss into the bowl loudly. She squeezed her left breast idly as she pissed. Her nipples had gone rock hard from the cold air outside, but now she could feel them getting soft and small again, adjusting to the heat of the room. When she was done Alana didn't even bother wiping. She climbed off the toilet and across to her bed, where she slipped between the sheets and fell asleep in seconds. ———————————————————————————— As Alana slept, night turned gradually into day. The sun that eventually emerged was not a warm one, but it did enough to light the streets of the city- and mostly dry away the puddles of piss students had left in alleyways and around street corners. Anything more solid than that would take a little longer to disappear, unless some poor sap stuck on community service happened to stumble on it while doing the morning rounds. Outside of the artificially heated cocoon of Alana's bedroom, the air was still tinged with ice by the time morning gave way to afternoon. But inside she was only just waking up. Her eyes opened with the last dredges of a strange dream still buzzing in her brain. She'd been naked, of that much she was certain... little bits and pieces of the dream stuck around in her memory while the rest quickly faded. She remembered the feeling of finding herself without a thread of cloth on her body, and seeing other people staring at her. Had she been peeing in the dream? Maybe. Alana had dreamt like that before. She suspected it was some subconscious manifestation of the humiliation she'd felt in recent months, every time she had a drunken accident in front of people she barely knew. Alana rolled over and stretched to pick her phone off the desk. One naked, dark breast slipped out from beneath the duvet, hanging heavily. The other one, the smaller one by far, stayed safely buried below her blanket and kept warm. She had to blink when she saw the clock to make sure her eyes weren't tricking her- one-fifty-one. Her lecture- the one she couldn't afford to miss unless she wanted to screw up her course after less than a month- started in nine minutes. Alana hurled herself out of bed, suddenly panicked. The walk from her room to the lecture hall took about five minutes if she hurried, but that left her with literally no time to waste. She needed to act fast. She crossed the room towards her closet- but a sudden ache in her bladder forced her to take a detour. If Alana didn't pee before she left, she'd be desperate by the time she got there. Nothing was more frustrating than sitting on the toilet, naked as the day she was born, waiting for her bladder to finish draining so that she could get up and pull on some clothes. Her piss seemed to go on forever, like someone was magically filling her up with more and more fluids as she went, creating an endless flow. The hangover felt very real all of a sudden. She hadn't felt too bad lying down, nor while she was rushing around the place, but now that she was captive to this one plastic seat Alana was hit with a banging headache and a heavy sickness in her gut. This was already starting to feel like one of the worst mornings she'd had all month. Alana squeezed her bladder muscles, and the speed of her flow picked up a little. To an observer, the only evidence would have been the way the sound of her pee hissing into the water tuned up in pitch. At this heavier rate, she finally started to run out of piss, but that wasn't quick enough for her. Toilet roll was being dragged over her pussy before she'd even finished peeing, soaking the paper so much it broke apart. While Alana pulled the metal flush, her other hand used a wet hand towel to wipe the urine from her fingers. To make matters worse, Alana was positive that she had to take a dump. The feeling in her stomach- bloated and full- made that quite plain. She hadn't even gone the night before, which happened only once in a blue moon, so it was no wonder she really needed one now. A fart slipped out, and within a second a pungent smell hit her nostrils. Alana always had to take a shit in the mornings, but after a night of heavy drinking she would always produce something far bigger and far worse for anyone within smelling range. Yet this morning she knew she couldn't. It would take her five minutes, ten if it was a messy one, and she couldn't risk being late to the lecture. Their professor had a reputation for being extremely strict, and she sometimes turned latecomers away from her classes. So Alana swore under her breath and stepped away from the bathroom. She'd have to hold it. Next she went to her closet and yanked the doors open so hard they almost came off their hinges. She grabbed a pair of panties, a bra and two socks from her underwear box, abandoning all her usual concern over whether they matched or even whether they were clean. Right now she'd take a thong with skidmarks in the back, as long as she had something to wear within the next ten seconds. And she did have a thong with skidmarks in the back somewhere in that box. Once they were thrown on, along with the warmest top she could find at a moment's notice, Alana fished out the only pair of jeans she hadn't worn yet since moving to university. They were miles too big for her around the waist. Alana owned a belt, but the lazy bastard inside of her couldn't be bothered with the effort, so she'd left the jeans untouched so far. Now her favourite pair had picked up a hole the size of Uruguay, and her other two were still damp from the last wash, so Alana had to resort to this giant's garment. She fed the belt through the loops as fast as she could manage. Even with the belt, the jeans were a little loose around even her wide hips, and she had to pull it as tight as it would go just to make the things fit before fastening it securely. Finally dressed, Alana could start shoving everything she might need into her bag. In went her laptop (barely charged), notebook, pens and pencils, a spare phone charger and a pair of tissues in case she needed to blow her nose. This was standard lecture gear for Alana, but she'd unpacked most of it the day before while tidying and forgotten to put it all back in. In the heat of the room, the stench of her farts was beyond unpleasant. It didn't take a genius to work out that she must've done plenty in her sleep to reach this strength. By some miracle she managed to be out of her room and walking down the stairs while her phone still gave her just over five minutes before the lecture started. If she walked quickly she'd make it. It wasn't until Alana was out on the streets again that she realised she didn't remember getting home the night before. In fact- come to think of it, she couldn't really remember any of the evening. The other downside was that the fresh air had only made her hangover worse. She could never understand how some drinkers felt less ill after a walk. And it wasn't like she was just hungover, either. Crossing the road outside her building, Alana started to realise that she may still have been a little drunk. That wasn't too unusual for her on the nights she went really heavy, but those tended to be Friday or Saturday events where she was free to spend the morning after in bed, usually eating junk food, sleeping or masturbating. This morning she was forced to walk past dozens of people outside, and all the sounds and sights were coming up somehow short of how her fully sober self would perceive them. At least she could feel glad that she’d been for a wee before leaving- there was little doubt that she’d be in serious trouble if she’d tried to hold her morning-after drunken piss until she got to the lecture hall. If there’d been a queue at the toilets, for example, there was no way Alana would’ve lasted the whole class without wetting her pants. She’d made the mistake of trying before, and that had been a disastrous hour for which she’d been so focussed on holding her pussy and squirming that she’d completely neglected to actually pay attention. Thanks to a walk at what felt like twice a normal pace, Alana tore into the lecture hall just thirty seconds or so before it was due to begin. The hall was a vast space with hundreds of seats, but in this class of only ninety or so students there was no shortage of empty chairs. Alana always sat near the front on the left side, with Becky to her right. Her friend was already there with her laptop set up when Alana came bumbling to her seat, bag bouncing against her back behind her with each speedy step. "I did not expect to see you here," Becky said with a grin, her eyes slightly incredulous. Alana wasn't in the mood. "What does that mean?" "You were fucked last night". The girl laughed, then turned her attention to the front of the room just as their lecturer stood and came to the front of her desk. "When you didn't show up in the kitchen all morning I assumed you were giving this one a miss". Before Alana could respond, the stern-faced woman before them started talking. Alana was already behind. By the time she'd opened her laptop and set up a new file to take notes on, their lecturer was onto the second slide. She did what she could to concentrate on the task at hand. It baffled her that Becky could seem so normal beside her- she hadn't been that much drunker than her friends, surely? And yet she was apparently the only one who had slept in until well into the afternoon, she was probably the only one who felt like shit now. Was she just bad at handling her booze? Maybe she wasn't as used to it as the others, and that was why she was so accident-prone when she got drunk. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It was all just guesswork as far as she was concerned. As the lecture dragged on, Alana only started to feel worse and worse, however. She couldn't tell exactly what was wrong, but something foul and poisonous was inside her and it needed to come out somewhere. The trouble was that she felt just as likely to throw up as to shit her pants. But the lecturer was only now getting to the parts she really needed to know, so Alana forced herself to stay and listen, ignoring her body as best she could. Alana sincerely hoped that she wasn't about to be sick. It made her think of her school days, when every now and then a kid would puke on the carpet. Everyone would be a little grossed out and then forget about it. She wasn't a kid anymore, and this wasn't school. If she threw up in the lecture hall, people would remember her face- including her teacher. Even the ones who didn't know her name would see her as the girl who puked in class. She didn't want to think about how much shame that would bring. Eventually, despite her best efforts to stoically carry on, Alana started to get the feeling that something very bad was seconds away from happening. Her whole body hurt horribly, centred on the stomach that hadn't stopped cramping since she'd gotten out of bed. A sense of doom filled her head. She had no choice left. She had to get out of there before she did something disgusting. Alana slammed her laptop closed a little harder than she intended, making Becky jump and look over, startled. She didn’t want to look at any of the other students as she got up from her seat. From the front of the class, the only way to leave without crossing right in front of the teacher was via the exits at the rear, right at the top of the room. Alana could practically feel the eyes on her as she climbed up the steps, but she didn’t raise her own gaze past waist height. She couldn’t bare to see them watching. The corridor she spilled out into was a fraction of the size of the lecture hall, but it felt a thousand times bigger. Here she could breathe again, and there was nobody else to see her at this time of day. Alana’s relief, though, was short-lived. Her body was urging her to get to the bathroom as soon as possible- and she had no choice but to oblige. In her panic it took her a couple of seconds to remember where the nearest toilet was. She shot off towards it like a hungover bullet, praying that nobody would come around the corner until she was well out of sight. The rush towards the bathroom left no doubt in Alana’s mind that she was still feeling the effects of the booze from the night before. Her head was spinning when she turned each bend and her legs felt weaker than paper. In the background, somewhere, she heard two people talking and a woman laugh. Was she laughing at Alana? No, that didn’t make sense, nobody had seen her. Besides, the woman was too far away. But she could be rushing towards them, running into a roadblock. Her stomach turned over again. Alana found herself staring at a silver square with the black silhouette of a woman in a dress on it, the universal sign for a ladies’ toilet she’d seen a thousand times before. She shook herself awake again and charged through, pushing the door open with her shoulder, then through the second door tucked just inside, the one that had never served any purpose other than to delay desperate women even further. There was nobody else in the bathroom, she could tell from just a glance. It was just her- a minor mercy at best. She took the closest stall. Even turning to lock the door was agony, and her gut squeezed like a vice. Alana knew now- she had to shit, and right away. There was no more doubt. Her fingers went to her belt buckle… the buckle she’d never had to undo before, and the one she’d pulled inexplicably tight that morning. It wouldn’t budge. Alana swore loudly and readjusted her grip. She was squeezing the leather strap with her whole hand, and squeezing her bum shut with the rest of her strength, but neither were doing any good. No matter how much she pulled it wasn’t coming undone. Just as she thought she was getting there, Alana’s stomach gave one final, sickening convulsion. With that she lost the battle. Control was wrestled out of her grip as easily as a grown man could take something from a child. She felt it squirt from her asshole, thick, slimy and impossibly hot. Alana groaned and kept trying to yank the belt out of place, but she got nothing for her efforts. The second spasm hit and sent more messy shit flying into her panties. She could already feel it soaking her bum, spreading across ever square inch. A trickle of warm brown water had escaped her panties already and was dribbling down her left thigh. There was more, too, more than she could remember ever doing before. Alana had experienced diarrhoea; this was a whole other level of mess, a seemingly endless stream of thick poop that wouldn’t stop. Every time she thought she was almost done another cramp attacked her and more sludge filled her underwear until they started to sag from the weight in those godforsaken loose jeans. This, Alana decided, was it- without a doubt the lowest point of her life. She'd thought she had hit rock bottom in the shower after that party the week before, but standing there, poop running down her legs, she saw all at once how this moment was so much worse. She had no excuses about being too hammered to get to the toilet, or something else getting in her way. She had simply been unable to hold it for another second and now she was paying the price for it. As much as she wanted to cry, Alana held back the tears. The only thing she could afford to focus on now was getting the hell out of there and back to her flat as soon as possible. Infuriatingly, she found that her belt came undone rather easily once she wasn't worried about shitting in her pants anymore. She unhooked it and had to resist the temptation to rip the damn thing off and flush it down the toilet. Next came the dreaded shimmy of jeans around ankles, followed by her shit-stained underwear. She had to lower them carefully to try and minimise the damage on the floor. Alana could never have brought herself to leave poop on the floor for some poor cleaner to wipe up, but that didn't mean she wanted to be scrubbing any more poo herself than she absolutely had to. Stepping out of her shoes, then jeans, and finally threading the pants over her feet was a slow and painful process. She didn't even contemplate trying to salvage them. They went straight in the toilet with the rest of it. She sent Becky a cry for help over text. It was only nine words long. In toilets by IT block. Bring my bag. Pls x Alana locked her phone and put her elbows on her skinny knees. She knew there was more to come out of her; she could feel it bubbling away like venom. With a deep breath, she bore down and pushed out another spurt. The sound of it hitting the water made her want to recoil. If there had been anyone else in the room, she was quite sure she would have died of embarrassment. Buried underneath all of that there was a relief she was getting it out of her system- but still Alana felt ill, in a way that didn't have anything to do with pooping anymore. Becky responded after a moment with a simple on my way! and Alana finally ran out of poop to expunge. She did her best to wipe her butt, but it was taking her twice as much paper as the already-huge amount she usually needed. The runny mess had spread onto her butt cheeks, her legs and almost as far as her pussy, and it quickly proved impossible to get rid of all the stains that had already started to dry. The best she could do would be to get most of it off and rush home for a long shower. In the end she had only managed to sit through about half of that crucial lecture. She'd need Becky to fill in her in later. No doubt her classmates would see Becky carrying Alana's bag up the stairs and out, and they'd get a pretty good idea of what had happened. That didn't mean that Alana was any less grateful when the bathroom door swung open a minute later and Becky handed the bag over the stall door before disappearing back to class. Most girls would have stayed to check if Alana was okay, but Becky seemed to know her well enough to sense that she wanted to be alone in this moment. The smell in the room left nothing to the imagination, anyway. Finally, Alana pulled her loose trousers back up. She hated going commando in jeans- the denim always rubbed against her pussy in uncomfortable ways- but it needed to be done so she could leave. When she slung the bag over her shoulder, though, her stomach whirled again. Alana spun on the spot just in time to throw up violently into the toilet bowl, splashing the porcelain sides with puke. ——————————————————————— Alana woke up already needing to take a dump, which she supposed was typical. She was back at her own house, and it took her a little while to remember why. Gone were the untidy vibes of her room back at university- here her room was kept painfully neat, if only to keep her mum quiet. Sunlight streamed in through the crack where she'd forgotten to close her curtains, and the bedsheets felt fresh and dry. The only thing that remained exactly the same no matter where she was in the morning was that familiar feeling of needing to poop. Automatically, her hand reached across the pillow and picked up her phone, which had spent the night face-down on the bed- the only thing that had slept with her lately, she was disappointed to report. A quick check of her lock screen revealed that it was well past nine in the morning, which could only mean she'd overslept and was set to disappoint her parents yet again. She didn't much care. Her sister was getting married today, to a rich guy with a bright future. Nothing she did today was exactly going to make her the favourite daughter. She slipped out from between the sheets and got to her feet, naked, just the way she liked it. She wasn't allowed to get drunk here or listen to loud music or watch Netflix, but at least sleeping sans pyjamas was one thing she enjoyed that her parents had long since given up trying to stop her doing. There'd be time to deal with the wedding crap in five minutes, but first she needed to go to the toilet and sit down for a while. The house's upstairs bathroom was all the way down the hall from Alana's room, so getting from the latter to the former in the morning involved traipsing naked across the entire first floor, something she'd long since gotten used to doing. Unless relatives were staying over, nobody was exactly going to stare at her tits or ass, or the tight little bush between her thighs. She had nothing to be shy about. Alana didn't bother to close the bathroom door before she sat on the toilet and started to pee. She never closed it while she was on the toilet unless her father came upstairs, which was rare during the day. It felt far more spacious in the tight little closet of a room to leave it open. As with every morning, her stream was forceful and went on for a long time. It gave her plenty of time to start thinking about the wedding again, a day she'd been dreading for a while. Her twenty-three year old sister already getting married while Alana herself had never had so much as a proper boyfriend- it was enough to bum anyone out. Back at uni, there were all sorts of distractions to take her mind off the upcoming big day, but at home she had nothing. She felt her morning piss taper off into a little dribble after a while. That freed her up to focus on pushing out something much more urgent. Alana almost moaned out loud as her hole began to open up, and a firm log poked its head out of her. Someone in her family chose that exact moment to start climbing the stairs, and Alana had to lean forward to pull the bathroom door until it was mostly closed. Her poop slipped back inside her colon from the sudden movement. But nobody said anything, and soon the footsteps were heading back down the stairs after a detour into her parents room. Alana herself had no problem taking a shit with her family present- it was how she'd done things for most of her life, after all, and she saw no good reason why that should change. But after she'd hit puberty- a late bloomer, Alana hadn't developed boobs or pubes until she was well into her teens- her parents had made it very clear that they wanted her to start keeping her body private. She hadn't really listened; she still slept naked, walked around in the house barely dressed and used the toilet with the door wide open. But on this particular morning she didn't much want to give either parent a reason to get pissed at her, so she indulged their more prudish tendencies just this once. The log started coming out again then, getting longer and thicker until the widest point had passed through her hole. Alana basked in the feeling. It was a far cry from the involuntary, unstoppable accidents she'd had so many times in the last month. After shitting herself a fair few times she'd forgotten how nice a good poo could be in the mornings. When she was finished she wiped her arse as always. It took her a good two dozen wipes, as usual, and it hadn't escaped Alana's attention that her mum had stocked up on toilet paper in preparation for her arrival. There was a whole pile of the stuff beside the toilet. She couldn't complain- she'd get through at least a couple of rolls on her own in the few days she'd be back here. It was just the way her body worked, and there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. Alana dumped the last of the poopy paper in the bowl and got up, giving the toilet no more than a cursory flush to make sure at least most of it went down. She paid no attention to the skidmarks down the side that had most definitely not been there before she got up. Then she flicked on the shower and crossed back into her room, remembering how long it took the water to warm up here. That was one thing she definitely didn't miss about home when she was in the city- in her flat, the shower water would always come out hot right away. Those weeks since moving into university had been the first month of Alana's life where she hadn't been walking naked down the corridor outside her room, but she slipped right back into the routine on her first morning back at home, easy as you like. But then came the bit she'd been dreading. She made her bed (roughly enough) and went to her wardrobe, where the dress she'd been forced to wear today was waiting for her, mocking her. She hated the thing with a passion. But her attempts to get out of wearing it had proven utterly fruitless. So she lay it out on the bed. Beside it went a pair of light pink cotton panties and a bubblegum-coloured bra, both of which she'd decided on the night before. A pair of tight, short-cut socks completed the outfit, while her shoes were waiting downstairs. Anyone who knew Alana knew that this was the kind of outfit she wouldn't be seen dead in unless she had any other choice. The dress was garish pink, which was why she'd chosen the underwear. The only two colours she liked herself in- white and black- were apparently 'not appropriate for a bridesmaid', she'd been told. She'd replied that if she was a bridesmaid she should've been allowed to go on the hen night, but she hadn't received her invite yet. Alana left the outfit there for now and tried to forget she would soon have to actually put it on. She returned to the bathroom and shut the door, wanting it all to steam up until she could barely see properly. When she stepped under the water, it was already scalding hot. She liked it that way. While one of the biggest moments of her sister's life crept closer downstairs, Alana let herself soak in the shower and pretend she wasn't going. ———————————————————————————————————— The rest of the family had been gathered in the living room for hours by the time Alana finally came downstairs to see them. She had no desire to spend any more time than she had to watching grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins fawn over her sister in her wedding dress, nor did Alana care for anyone to spend too long looking at what she was wearing. It only helped a touch that she wasn't the only person being made to don something so disgustingly pink, but nobody else seemed to hate it as much as she did. After she'd pooped, spent far too long in the shower, got dressed, put on a touch of make-up and then spent twenty minutes on her phone trying to delay the inevitable, Alana dragged herself downstairs, thinking that she risked the ire of her mother if she put it off any longer. In reality, almost nobody paid her any attention when she got downstairs, and she was suddenly quite sure none of them would have noticed if she'd sat in her room for the rest of the morning. It was almost lunchtime by then, and some of the relatives had seen fit to open the champagne already. The only thing Alana had been looking forward to about this wedding was the alcohol. Seeing some of them starting this early was a stroke of inspiration for her- if she could get tipsy, she might not hate herself quite as much while the rest of the family was singing hymns and hugging like weirdos. Her own alcohol was in a cupboard at the back of the room, still untouched from before she'd left in the summer, barely opened. It didn't take much sneaking around to go there, under the guise of getting more glasses for the rest of the family. With nobody paying her any attention, it was the easiest thing in the world for Alana to slip the vodka under her dress and hold it in place with a well-positioned hand. Suddenly she hated the dress just a little less; at least it had a use for something. Alana excused herself and nipped back upstairs, knowing that the rest of the family would just assume she needed the toilet- she still had a reputation for having a small bladder amongst her family, even though in reality she'd grown out of that years before. She carried her drink with her. Ordinarily her parents would have said something. This was no ordinary day; they were far too busy gushing over her sister to even care. Alana was starting to like the way the morning was going more and more. Up in her room, she dug around in her bedside table for something she knew must still be in there. It was a big silver flask that had come as a freebie from a cocktail bar earlier that year. She lifted it triumphantly. The thing wasn't exactly discreet, but it was a hell of a lot easier to carry than a bottle of vodka. Alana felt like a scientist as she tipped the spirit into the flask, stopping just before it overflowed. Then she poured another splash of Smirnoff into the drink she already had and took it back downstairs with her, leaving the bottle hidden in her room to be moved back to its rightful place later. The flask, she found, fit snugly in her pants, and nobody could see the bulge thanks to this ridiculous puffy dress. Downstairs everyone was still going on about Lucy. Alana took a huge swig of her newly-made vodka and orange juice, letting it slide down her throat. She tried to tune out the waffle. Around midday, the time came to head to the church. Alana would be travelling with her parents, an uncle and a cousin in one car, which suited her just fine because it meant she wouldn't be expected to do any of the talking. Already she felt tipsy when the car pulled away and started south. Maybe, if she kept going like this, it wouldn't be too awful a day after all. ————————————————————————————————— The ceremony, which had been just as cringe-inducing as Alana had expected, was drawing to a close at last. And even she had to admit that the turnout was impressive- the groom would have to take all the credit for that, because Lucy barely had anyone there she wasn’t related to. She’d been in this church plenty of times and never seen it so packed. She’d also never wanted to throw up in it before, so there were first times for everything, she supposed. Alana was starting to need to pee from the booze, but it wasn’t exactly urgent yet. As the newlyweds left down the aisle, presumably overjoyed that neither would have to wear pink tonight, the rest of the guests started filing out behind them. Alana had little choice other than to join the procession, which was heading for the reception venue only half a mile away. Some of the younger men had good-naturedly offered to carry Lucy over the muddy puddles that had formed in that morning’s showers, but Alana was clearly going to have to brave the unfortunate weather like a peasant. If she was lucky she might trip and ruin her dress. The booze was coming out all over the party now, with waiters serving champagne flutes to guests pretty much the second they stepped over the church ground limits. Alana was more than happy to join in on that front- she picked up her own glass and gulped it down in seconds. She wasn't a fan of fizz sober, but while she walked there getting progressively tipsier it tasted glorious. She wasn't sure exactly how much alcohol she'd had- Alana just knew that it was enough to make her hate the day slightly less, which was all she'd wanted from it anyway. Not that anyone was noticing, as far as Alana could tell. She'd had enough experience at pretending to be sober around her parents. The trick was to take a deep breath and think about every word before she spoke. Luckily, they didn't think this was anything strange- Alana had always been a slow talker, especially in her teenage years. Some people thought it was because her brain wasn't up to speed, but her parents knew better. They knew that she talked slow because she didn't trust herself not to blurt out anything that might offend someone, particularly when family was around. She allowed herself to be swept up into the river of relatives and family friends, and before long they were flocking into the venue, an ultra-fancy building that only Lucy's rich new groom could afford. Alana wasn't shocked to be told that her seat wasn't at the main table with her parents. She didn't even want to listen to their lame excuses about her not being available for the rehearsal dinner; the champagne made it hard to care too much about something as stupid as where she was meant to sit. So she found her table, then headed past it to the bar. The other advantage of Lucy marrying into a wealthy family was the gallons of booze they'd arranged to be served to the guests for free. And with her parents sitting miles away there was nobody to disapprove while she drank as much as she wanted. Alana walked up to the barman, a handsome young-looking man in a waistcoat that she wouldn't have minded taking off. His name tag said Tom. "You serve doubles?" she asked him when he came over. He shook his head. "Well, let me persuade you. This is my sister's wedding and I just found out I'm not sitting with my family. Oh, and I'm missing a house party for this. There's supposed to be a pool". "Is that a double vodka or gin?" he asked with a grin. Alana smiled back. "I like you, Tom," she told him. ——————————————————————————————————————— An hour went by and soon Alana was dying for a piss. Food had been served and eaten, and with it she'd had another drink courtesy of Tom. The more alcohol she poured down her throat, the more it felt like a good idea to pour down more, until she was well and truly drunk. That liquid needed to come out somewhere- her bladder was urging her, begging her to get up and go to the toilet, but she didn't want to go until she'd finished her meal at least. Part of that was just drunken laziness, in truth. Even after she had finished eating, Alana was forced to squirm and writhe in her seat. Relatives who she hadn't seen in years kept coming up to her wanting to catch up. Some of them she remembered and even liked, but most of them were distant cousins that Alana found she had nothing to say to. None of them seemed to notice that she was clearly desperate to use the bathroom. The trouble was that, even if she could get away, the lines for the restrooms were already long. It looked like there were too many guests for a venue of this size, and the queues to pee were proof of that. She had heard from an aunt that the speeches would be starting soon, which sounded like a terrible idea to Alana, but it had given her a solid plan: nobody would be rude enough to get up and go to the bathrooms while the bride and groom's family were talking, so the lines would disappear. When the speeches finished she could rush ahead of everyone else and skip the line altogether. It would just take another twenty minutes or so of holding. She could manage twenty minutes... surely? Just as that aunt (or had it been a great aunt?) had predicted, after a few more minutes the crowd hushed as Alana's dad stood to make his toast. She squirmed her way through his speech, then it was the turn of Lucy. By now, Alana was firmly squeezing her pussy under the table with one hand. She had to. Without that grip, she was sure, it would be impossible to hold it. She felt herself getting closer and closer to an accident while her sister droned on, the desperation intensifying. She pulled her chair close to the table to try and hide the fact that one hand was up that pink dress, grabbing her crotch. The sudden movement did her in. She felt the palm of her hand turn warm and wet all at once, and couldn't help gasping out loud. She had to get to the bathrooms, and right now. Alana stood up in the middle of Lucy's speech, her chair scraping indiscreetly along the floor. Every eye in the house turned to her... and she was suddenly very aware that she was still holding her pussy. Alana let go, as much as it made her feel like she was about to wet herself. Drunkenly she squeezed out between the gaps in the tables and into the clearing of the dance floor, but the surface below her had no grip on her fancy shoes and she went sprawling, smashing her knees before she could get her arms all the way up to break her fall. The flask she'd been hiding all day went clattering across polished wood, audibly empty now. Someone gasped. And that dress... the pink dress flew up as Alana went down, until it was practically around her waist. Her long, dark legs were exposed to the world, and so were her pink cotton panties... the ones that now bore a clear sign of the spot where she'd squirted an uncontrollable spurt of piss into them a few seconds earlier. The impact was too much to withhold. Alana started to piss herself there and then. She tried to command her pussy to shut off, to stop spurting like a fountain, but her muscles seemed useless. Desperately, she grabbed her crotch again and tried to force her urethra closed. That didn't work either, and hot piss simply flowed through the gaps between her fingers as she helplessly massaged her mound. A puddle of pee was growing on the dance floor below her. She could feel some of it soaking the back of her dress. Some was running down towards her knees. But mostly, worst of all, it saturated her underwear, making the dark lips of her pussy practically free-to-view for anyone who was sitting in front of her... including her stunned, silent sister and their disgusted parents. The realisation that her cunt was visible now was the thing that finally galvanised Alana to get up and rush out of the room, hand between her legs to try and hold back the rest of the flood. She couldn't go to the toilets; she knew that now. People would come looking for her and find her right away if she hid in a stall. The first viable option she saw instead looked like a janitor's closet. Alana yanked the door open and found it miraculously unlocked- inside was certainly some kind of broom cupboard, and that would certainly do. Beggars couldn't be choosers. Alana shut herself inside quickly, at least grateful that a tiny, grubby window gave the room some light. The downside of not going to the toilet was that Alana still had to piss more badly than she could bear. There was only one thing for it- she tore down her soaking underwear and squatted over the janitor's bucket, trying not to sigh with relief as she let the rest of her desperate piss into the plastic. Later she'd need to find a way to empty it without being seen. It was only then, as she stood there emptying her bladder into a mop bucket after most of it had come out in her pants in front of her whole family, that Alana caught sight of her reflection in the dim on a mirror screwed to the back of the door. Suddenly droplets were welling in her eyes, and she couldn't stop them. She burst into tears before she could even finish peeing. They ran hot and heavy down her cheeks, so much that soon salty water was dripping from her chin to her chest and nestling in that awful pink monstrosity. Alana looked away from the mirror- she hated the way her face looked when she cried, all scrunched-up and blubbery, but she couldn't help it. All she wanted to do now was weep from the shame and anger. When Alana heard voices- her mother and another aunt- walking down the corridor, she had to muffle her cries. They were looking for her, she knew, but they would never think to open this door if she stayed quiet. The only way this day could get worse is if they found out she'd gone to the toilet in a bucket. Alana wiped the tears from her face with her dress, already dreading having to put her drenched panties back on again. —————————————————————————————— Alana had missed this feeling. She'd come back to university needing nothing more than to forget the traumatic events of Lucy's wedding, and the girls had suggested a party going on in a flat downstairs that night. Alana had jumped at the chance and gone right out to buy a bottle of gin, needing to get drunk enough that she stopped replaying her public accident in her head. So far she was succeeding. The lights were low, the music was loud and Alana, though thoroughly smashed, hadn't thought about pissing herself in front of her whole family for hours now. Being drunk in this flat was a strange experience, to say the least. It was identical aesthetically and architecturally to the one she'd lived in for the last month, but the layout was just different enough to confuse Alana, and they didn't have the big window in the kitchen that her flat did either. It also meant that, like her own, this flat didn't have a communal bathroom. One of the guys who lived here had bravely volunteered his own toilet for use by the partygoers. Alana hadn't been since leaving her own bedroom a few hours before, so she slipped out of the kitchen- where most of the action was happening- and went down the corridor. If she remembered right, the toilet to use was the second door on the left. Alana opened the door to a dark room. Confused, she fumbled for where she knew the light switch should be, found it with her fingers and flicked it on. A topless girl was straddling a man she kind of recognised on the bed, kneeling either side of his waist. The girl's hair dangled over her face just as her firm tits dangled above the man. She looked up when the lights came on, stunned, and suddenly Alana realised that the girl was Megan. She flicked the light off again and backed out, mumbling an apology. Back in the corridor, now she suddenly saw the line for the bathroom further down that she'd somehow missed in her desperation earlier. She joined the back, just behind a visibly desperate girl. The woman, short and skinny, had her hand between her thighs and her legs crossed over one another. She was bouncing up and down, talking to a boy beside her who was laughing at something she'd said. The line started out in the hall and snaked all the way into the bedroom, where the toilet sat just inside the door like in Alana's dorm. As she watched, someone emerged from the bathroom. A girl dashed in after him, clearly busting to take a shit. From her eyes, Alana guessed that she was high on something that had made her need an urgent dump. Even over the music Alana heard the girl start loudly pooping through the door, and she couldn't help laughing. The laugh made a few of the other students in the queue look over at her strangely... or had they already been staring? Alana counted the people still in front of her in line... four... no, five. A ten minute wait if she was lucky. She couldn't be arsed with that- especially not since, now she was standing up, Alana didn't feel like she even had to go anymore. The urge must have passed. So she abandoned the line, leaving the drugged-up girl to ruin that poor guy's toilet, and returned to the party. Back in the kitchen, it was suddenly too loud for Alana to hear herself think again. That was just the way she liked it. Across the room she saw a guy she'd been flirting with, on and off, for most of the night. Standing taller than anyone else in the room, with a tight, dark fade, her eyes had been drawn to him from the moment she'd walked into the room. He was the best-dressed guy there, as well as probably the only other black student at the whole party. She hadn't got around to asking his name yet, though. It had been him she was talking to before excusing herself to use the bathroom, and now she was back Alana went straight back over to the tall guy. She felt a rush of arousal wash over herself as she approached him- probably, she knew, because she'd walked in on Megan about to fuck some random boy. Alana was straight as a pencil, but that didn't mean she hadn't been at least a little turned on by the sight of her friend towering over him, pinning him down, heavy boobs pointing at his face. Alana went right up to her boy, pulled him close and whispered in his ear. "Want to get out of here? My bedroom is only up the stairs". She didn't get the reaction she'd been hoping for, though. In fact, he looked surprised to see her. "You're back already?" Alana frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?" "Yous said you needed the toilet, but you were only gone for a minute. Isn't there, like, a big queue?" "I don't need to go anymore," Alana grinned, shaking her head. "Really? You seemed desperate!" "Nah! I'm fine now!" Alana leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, as seductively as she knew how. He seemed to like that. He winked at her and put his mouth by her ear. "Let me just tell my flatmates where I'm going, I'll meet you by the door in a minute". Alana nodded and left him there, excited to finally get a guy back to her bed. She'd really started to need sex over the last week or so- her fingers could only do so much, and it was hard seeing her friends off pulling guys while she kept on drawing blanks. So she started to head toward the door, planning on finding one of her flatmates who wasn't Megan on the way and telling them where she was going. It wasn't easy pushing through the hordes of people, and when she finally found some space Alana almost slipped over on a puddle where someone must've spilled a drink onto the floor. She felt damp, too, doubtless drenched in sweat. She could only hope that it wouldn't be a problem for the guy she was about to fuck. If he minded a bit of sweaty odour, she doubted she was the ideal woman for him anyway. Soon she spotted Zoe by the door, holding a drink, and went over to let her friend know she was leaving. "I'm off," she said, having to lean in close to Zoe to be heard over the music, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Zoe was clearly almost as drunk as Alana, and it took her a few seconds to work out what had been said. But when it hit her, she looked surprised. "Already? Why?" "Got a boy," said Alana with a cheeky grin, "invited him back up to my room, think we're probably gonna do the nasty, if you get my drift". "Go on!" Zoe said, looking delighted, "well done, mate! I'll tell the others where you're going and then-" She trailed off suddenly, and Alana saw her nose wrinkle up in the dim light. "Do you smell that?" Alana sniffed the air. Right away she knew exactly what her friend was referring to. There was definitely something stinky nearby- worse than a fart, too. It was strong enough that she was even sure it was coming from someone nearby, noticeable even over the smells of booze, weed and cigarettes. It smelt like... "Shit," Zoe said, finishing Alana's thoughts. "Someone's had a poo in here! Eww, that's rank". "Yeah, fuck that," Alana said, "glad I'm getting out of here now". "Well, good luck anyway," Zoe called as Alana turned to go, "don't do anything I wouldn't!" "If I didn't do anything you wouldn't I would never get any dick," Alana pointed out with a smirk. For her cheek she earned a playful smack on the arse from Zoe... and suddenly her friend was pulling Alana back, guiding her by the shoulder, away from the door. "What's up?" "Wait a second," Zoe said, "you've got a wet bum. Have you sat in something?" Alana frowned and shook her head. "Not that I know of, I haven't even sat down all night. Someone must've spilled something on me". Zoe started to pat Alana's butt again, feeling both cheeks this time and confirming that both were wet. "Is it on my front, too?" "I can't see," Zoe admitted. She laughed awkwardly. "Do you mind if I feel your front? I won't try and feel you up, I promise". Alana didn't mind at all. She trusted Zoe. "Nah, go for it," she said, moving her arms to make it easier to access her pussy and thighs. Soon Zoe was feeling her crotch with the back of her hand. She brought it up to her nose, sniffed, frowned. "I think you've pissed yourself," Zoe announced. Alana shook her head. "No, I haven't," she insisted, "I'm pretty sure I would know". Zoe paused, confused, then extracted her phone from her pocket. Within seconds she had the flashlight on and was aiming it at Alana's bottom half. Alana glanced down. Instantly she realised it was true. She knew exactly what it looked like when she pissed in her jeans, and this was it. Around her feet on the floor was a telltale puddle that could only be her own pee. Suddenly Alana felt ill. "Turn around," Zoe ordered. Alana was too stunned to do anything other than obey. She felt Zoe's fingers probe her butt again... only this time they weren't touching her butt. This time they were touching something else entirely, something squished up against her bum. The smell... Zoe leaned in and said something quietly to Alana. "You've shit yourself, mate," she said, "just walk with me and be quick, before anyone else notices you smell". Alana kept her head down and wordlessly followed her friend out of the room. She passed the guy she had promised to meet, but she couldn't meet his eye to gauge his expression. All she could do was let Zoe lead her into the hallway, trying to absorb the shock. She had filled her pants, and soaked them too, without even realising it was happening. Alana knew she'd been drunk... but this was a new low. Stunned into silence, Alana let Zoe guide her by the wrist. The light out here was harsh and bright, almost fluorescent in nature. Shame flooded Alana even through her drunkenness. She couldn't believe what she'd done- an accident was one thing, but to not even notice... and if she'd tried to go home and fuck that boy... God, what a mess she had made, both literally and figuratively. It felt like a lot more than two sets of stairs before they arrived at the door to the flat, by which time Alana could feel the wetness on her thighs and the weight of the stinky load she'd done in her pants. It fell to Alana to extract her room key from her pocket, almost taking her phone out with it. She buzzed them in and Zoe had the presence of mind not to turn on the light, even in pitch darkness that made it hard to see. She understood that the last thing Alana wanted right now was to be visible. Zoe helped her to strip off. Alana didn't mind being undressed by her friend- in fact, she was immensely grateful for Zoe's wordless understanding and loyalty. Together they carried the messy, soaked clothes over to Alana's laundry basket and dumped them in. Alana's eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough now that she could make out Zoe's figure through the black. She knew that Zoe could see her nakedness now, but found that she didn't care. A body was only a body, and she doubted Zoe would remember it in the morning. But she hated the idea of her friend missing out on the party for her sake, so she told Zoe to go back and enjoy the rest of the night, giving her a hug of exhausted, embarrassed thanks. And so Zoe left her there, and the door eventually slammed itself shut again. Alana went to the mirror in her bathroom and grabbed the sponge she usually washed her armpit with. Roughly, and with just a dab of cold water, she started to wipe herself clean. It wasn't easy without a full shower going, but once she seemed to have most of the poop off her thighs and ass she decided it would do. Alana threw the sponge to the side, started to walk away... and suddenly she was falling, falling onto the cold floor, and everything was turning from dark to black. The next time Alana opened her eyes, it wasn't dark in the city anymore. Her room was flooded with light from where she'd forgotten to close her blinds, illuminating her mess of a room. She saw the hamper of laundry, sniffed the air and right away remembered what she'd done. In that basked was a pair of pissed-in, shit-on jeans that she had left there before passing out. Alana was still lying on the cold, hard floor. At some point in the night she'd turned over onto her back, but still she was there- except now she was lying in a puddle of what felt an awful lot like piss. She ran her fingers through soaking, coarse black pubes and across her meaty labia. There was no denying it- she'd pissed on the floor in her sleep. It was going up her back and down her thighs. Sitting up, feeling tremendously sick, Alana looked between her legs and saw the fattest shit she had ever done sitting there between them. It must have come out while she was passed out, too. She groaned and shifted away from it, hoping it hadn't touched her pussy in the night. Alana swore out loud. This was going to be a nightmare to clean up.
  17. It was Monday evening before Alana left the house again, but leave it she eventually did. She was wedged between her friends at a table in a student bar well after midnight, a circular booth that left her needing to ask at least two of them to move every time she had to get up. Zoe and Alex were pressing her in on one side, with Becky and Megan to her right. She didn't mind- the place was fancy, and her initial reservations about going out and drinking again had disappeared once she realised that her friends really weren't upset about her little accident at the weekend. The first few sips of alcohol had helped to calm her nerves, too. The embarrassment that burned after Becky walked her home had lasted all of Sunday. She hadn't even come out of her room until the rest of the girls had gone out to another club, and the hunger grew so bad that she couldn't bear to starve herself any longer. They invited her- begged her, really- but she was simply too humiliated, so she made up an excuse about her hangover being too bad that was only half a lie. As soon as that hangover faded on Monday morning, though, so did the shame. Forgetting, it seemed, was the greatest superpower a drunk girl could have. She'd jumped at the chance to go out and get tipsy again, impressed that her friends were still going strong after two nights in a row spent clubbing. Alana, for her part, had slept for twenty of the last forty-eight hours. She was fully refreshed. When the other girls were on their third drink, she'd had five. Part of that was foolish determination to prove that she could handle her drink, but there was another side to the problem, too. The truth was that she just really liked getting wasted. She did have to pee, but being jammed in between her friends meant that the effort and inconvenience of getting up greatly outweighed how bad she needed to go. Alana was sure she could still hold it. By the time two in the morning came, though, she was starting to get tired and the copious amounts of vodka were taking their toll. She had stopped taking part in the conversation, instead listening quietly, occasionally brushing frizzy hair out of her eyes with one hand and sipping her last cocktail through a plastic pink straw. Her friends had to talk loudly to be heard over the music, which was exactly the kind of cheesy naughties pop that she loved getting drunk to. From Zoe, Alana had heard about the club they'd been at the night before. It sounded awesome. The four girls had stumbled home some time before sunrise with an array of inflatable animals, which were littering the kitchen come the morning. Alana was pissed off that she'd missed out over a little embarrassment and promised herself she wouldn't sit out of any more nights. All of a sudden Alana found herself being shaken by the shoulder. It took her a few seconds to come to, and a few more to realise that she had fallen asleep. She looked around groggily; all four of her friends were staring at her. "Alana," Becky said, concern in her voice. Alana blinked and met her gaze. "You're peeing". That woke her up. She looked down at her crotch and saw that it was true- a little dark stain was growing on her cream playsuit, seeping onto the leather of the seat. She swore under her breath and shut off the flow. "Sorry," she mumbled, "I'd better get to the toilet". Zoe and Alex wasted no time in scrambling out of their seats. She scooted along the chair and got up, not wanting to look back at the wet patch she'd no doubt left behind. Now that she was awake Alana realised how badly she really had to go. A few more minutes and she might have been looking at her second accident in three days. Luckily, the walk to the toilet was short and there was no queue in a bar that had started to empty out already. She got to the bathroom in the nick of time, only to find that just one of the three stalls was available- the one closest to the door, directly opposite it in fact. Alana quickly realised why it wasn't taken. There was no lock on the door. But she was about to piss her playsuit, so closing it without a lock would have to do. With a quick reach behind she unzipped the thing, pulling it all down as fast as she could. The trouble with wearing a braless one-piece to a club was that she had to effectively strip naked just to pee. That was usually bearable because the doors usually locked. If she'd had any other choice, Alana wouldn't have used that toilet. But the pee was coming whether she was ready or not. So she dropped the whole suit around her ankles and plopped her bum down on the toilet just before her bladder completely surrendered all control. As she tried her best to enjoy the relief of going, having done almost none of it in her pants, the stall door started to creak open. Alana leaned forward to stop it, in a sudden panic... but she couldn't reach. And through the bathroom door she saw a table of guys staring at her. Some were stunned, some were laughing, but they were all staring, alright. They were looking at a girl, naked except for the pale playsuit bunched up by her feet, sitting on the toilet and unable to stop peeing. They saw her deep brown nipples, flat and lifeless. They saw the chub of her belly overhanging her free-flowing pussy. And, she was sure, they all saw the bush of black pubic hair standing out against her dark skin. She was a prisoner there, unable to stand up to close the door. All she could do was cross her arms over her ample breasts, lean forward to try and cover her pussy and wait it out. By the time another woman finally came by and stood wordlessly in the door to cover Alana up, she was almost finished peeing. ——————————————————————————————————————— God was merciful, because Alana didn't remember the boys seeing her naked come Tuesday morning, and that night she was back out with the girls at a red hot club they were yet to try out. She'd somehow managed to get even drunker than before, and had only just smuggled herself into the club by putting on her best impression of a sober person for the full two minutes it took to get past security and the ticket booth. The group were buying round after round of shots, and Alana was growing more and more talkative with every last one. Somehow, though, it had been a successful night for her in the bathroom. She'd made a point of going as soon as she felt the urge to pee, not wanting a repeat of the last two incidents. It being a Tuesday night, the club was quieter than at weekends, so there were no lines to the bathroom. So far, every single piss had been quick and painless and her clothes had remained dry as a bone. She'd even been able to avoid the stalls without working locks, which was a welcome change of pace. Past midnight, everything was going perfectly. "I'm proud of you," slurred Zoe at one point, putting her pale arm around Alana's dark shoulder and leaning in close, "you haven't pissed yourself even a little bit yet". Coming from someone else that might have sounded condescending, or maybe even a little mean, but even drunk Zoe didn't have a mean bone in her body. And the truth was that Alana couldn't help feeling a little proud of herself too. It was pathetic, she knew, but she was pleased with the way she'd stayed on top of things and avoided any drama in the toilet all night long. When the urge to go hit Alana again, she told the others she would be right back and headed to the toilet. Usually she wouldn't go on her own, but with the speed she was getting through those drinks, nobody else had to pee again so soon after their last visit to the restroom. Alana didn't mind the alone time. She walked as stably as she could manage to the bathroom, once again feeling even drunker from standing up too fast. As usual, there was nobody waiting outside the bathroom. She took the stall furthest from the door, in no rush to go, and locked it behind her. Taking her seat and starting to pee was a blissful sensation. She daren't close her eyes, in case the room started to spin when she opened them again. It was hard for Alana to think of a time she'd been this drunk and stayed conscious- part of her thought that she was going to throw up, another thought she might need to shit. For now, she kept peeing, letting it all run out of her like a hot tap. Beside her she heard a loud splash in the water from the next stall over, followed by an unmistakable moan of relief. Alana giggled; emboldened, she let out a moan of her own. It felt great to let go, after all. It felt like an age until her vicious stream finally died down to a dribble. Alana tried to push on her colon, looking to see if she had to poop, but decided to leave it until she got home. She looked around for toilet paper- there was nothing on the left wall or the right. Just as worry started to rise up in her throat, she spotted some on top of the white tank behind her. She reached between her legs with the first square... and her fingers met soaking wet, hot fabric. Alana gasped. She looked down at her thighs... her fully clothed thighs. She hadn't even lowered her leggings before sitting down. Somehow, under the influence of enough booze to kill a small child, she'd completely failed to notice that her piss was saturating her underwear and leggings before cascading into the toilet below. It felt as though the wet patch forked out to nearly the back of her knees. Already she was sure that the smell of piss was hanging in the air around her. Even getting to her feet was a struggle, but Alana pulled herself up and looked back down on the toilet. It was a mess. The seat was covered in pee, some of which was dripping onto the floor even now. The inside of the bowl was yellow all over. All she could do was walk away from it all, get home as soon as she could and get to bed. She went upstairs and made her excuses. In black leggings, there was no telling the real reason she was bailing out early. Her friends told her to message them when she got back to the flat, and she summoned an Uber on her phone. The alcohol was still moving through her- in half an hour she could be too drunk to stay awake. She needed to be quick if she wanted to get to bed before that happened. ——————————————————————————————————————— Traffic proved to be a nightmare, and it was almost an hour later by the time Alana staggered through the front door of the flat, knowing that she could have walked and been home in half the time and without the extortionate Uber fee. The drive had done very little to sober her up, but with the unwanted side effect of making her desperately need the toilet again- this time to poop as well as pee. Nobody else was home yet, but they planned to walk as far as Alana knew, so if they'd left the club at any time in the last half an hour they wouldn't take long to get back. Alana's drive home had been silent and uncomfortable, not least because she'd spent the entire ride trying her best not to have an accident and ruin the seat. Her butt kept begging her to let it open up and push a soft load out onto the seat, and she'd barely managed to resist. She'd barely said a word to the driver, instead attempting to distract herself with her phone and search for a sitting position that didn't make her belly grumble in agony. The moment that she finally heard the flat door click behind her was almost jubilant. She was still so drunk that she barely knew what was going on, but at least she was home. At least she'd made it. It was pitch black inside the flat. In her state, there was little to no chance of finding the light switch simply by fumbling along in the dark, and her phone was dead from constant use in the car. After a brief check to see if she could stumble across the switch, Alana fished her key out of her bag and held it up against the electronic lock she'd ended up leaning beside. The door swung open, but in here it was equally dark. Luckily she'd spent enough time in the room that first week that she already knew the layout by heart. This wasn't her first time getting in drunk and without light and needing to use the toilet badly. Three steps forward, two to the left and then a couple back. She felt the back of her knees find a hard edge and slowly, on shaky legs, lowered herself down onto the toilet, sliding her leggings and panties down as she went. Whether she'd been even more desperate than she realised or the alcohol was just enhancing things, it felt almost orgasmic to release her bladder where she sat. Alana closed her eyes and moaned, knowing nobody was around to hear even through these thin walls. It was as though a river was hissing out from between her legs- at least, she certainly felt as though she'd been holding back a whole river. In the darkness, she was sure that the sound of pee jetting out of her urethra was even louder than usual. Alana only wanted to drain every last drop from her body and then roll into bed. The other urge made itself known again, and Alana couldn't hold it back even if she wanted to. A huge, thick mass started to snake out of her hole. She couldn't help moaning again at the way it stretched her wide open. In the background, she could hear the doors to the flat opening- the others probably thought she was fast asleep by now. All she wanted to focus on was having a nice, huge poo, which was happening hard and fast now. But all of a sudden something didn't feel right. Somewhere over the hissing of her pee, Alana heard the metallic buzz of the room door being unlocked. She froze. The door creaked open, and suddenly, with a crack as sharp as a whip, the lights flickered on around her. She wasn't in her room. She was in a room that looked just like hers, but with a reversed layout. Where the toilet sat in her room, here there was a messy, unmade bed. She was sitting on the mattress, a huge chunk of which was now soaked, or covered in her shit. Becky stood in the doorway, mouth open, and behind her- so much worse- was a boy Alana had never seen before. When her drunken brain had realised what was going on, she reached down to cover up her pussy and bush. "I thought this was my room," she stammered, feeling drunker and dumber than ever before. A glance behind her told her that the bedsheets were ruined. Where there had once been pristine white, everything was suddenly brown or drenched to the point of transparency. Becky finally closed her mouth. "Did you know the keys worked for every room?" Alana shook her head. "Did you?" "No," Becky said, backing out of the room, "we're gonna take your room. We'll do each other's laundry". "That... that seems fair," Alana muttered, trying to force down the lump in her throat. She just wanted to be left alone, and for the boy to stop staring at her shit-smeared asscrack. "Let's never talk about this again," Becky said, and then she was gone. The door slammed shut again. Alana stood up, intending to get clean... and felt her knees go weak beneath her. She fell back onto the bed, narrowly missing landing in her own faeces. All she could do was kick off her shoes, slide her leggings and panties off and collapse on the mattress, curling up in a ball as far from her mess as she could. A little voice in her head was telling her what she needed to do. She had to get up, had to lock the door, strip the sheets, take a shower... Instead Alana closed her eyes for a few seconds, and before she could do anything about it at all, she was out like a smashed lightbulb.
  18. Alana stumbled down the hallway, wondering if she was going to live to regret booking the room furthest away from the kitchen. She swung left as she walked and bumped into one of the walls, then straightened herself and took the last few steps to her door. The intensity of her intoxication had almost tripled the second she stood up. A colossal burp erupted from her mouth and she didn't bother to cover it. With nobody else in the corridor, and the alcohol rendering her inhibitions nearly non-existent, there was no need for false niceties. Not for the first time, she asked herself if maybe this was who she really was- this gross, embarrassing animal, who only kept up the pretences of being polite and civilised when a mixture of sobriety and social anxiety forced her to. She was here because the need to use the bathroom had finally become too much to bear another second. Not only was her bladder fit to burst, but the oversized portion of pizza she'd gobbled down had taken a predictable toll on her belly, and she urgently had to take a shit, too. And to think it was barely gone nine-thirty. With many hours left in the night, she was already pushing past the realms of tipsy and into the world of drunk. Alana extracted her electronic key from the left pocket of her jeans and fumbled with it. She felt like her body couldn't hold everything back much longer, but all of a sudden she seemed to have completely forgotten how to get the door to open. Press the key against the lock. Pull the handle. Nothing happened. Alana started to panic, her bladder threatening to leak. Finally, she tried the other side of the key and it let her fall through the door and into her bedroom. It had grown far hotter in here since she'd last left. Alana turned the corner, stepped into the bathroom and tore down her jeans and underwear in one go. She collapsed onto the toilet before her bedroom door had even clicked shut. No sooner was she seated than everything started to come out, both of the front and the back. She swore under her breath, stunned at how close to an accident she had come. It was weird- Alana practically never had close calls when she wasn't drinking, but after a few glasses of gin and lemonade she'd found herself seconds away from ruining a brand new thong. Brushing frizzy black hair out of her face, she leaned back and let it all exorcise itself from her body. Her butt stretched out nicely to allow the second poop of the day through. While she finished up, she turned and looked in the mirror. Staring back at her was a slightly blurry image of a girl with big brown eyes, smooth, dark skin and thin eyebrows that curved upward ever so slightly. It took her a second to remember that the staring girl was herself. As usual, her poop left skidmarks all over the bowl and residue littering the area around her anus. This time, spurred into carelessness by the booze, Alana didn't bother wiping everything away. A few sheets would do, she decided. With most of it cleaned off and in the bowl, she flushed, started to stand up, remembered something. Alana had been a few seconds away from pulling up her thong without drying the pee off of the lips of her pussy. The second time, she used a few squares to get rid of the excess fluid, then stood again for real. Alana finished buttoning her jeans back up just before walking back into the kitchen, where the girls were still playing the game of Never Have I Ever that they'd been in the midst of when she left. Though they knew each other from college, there had been few opportunities to get drunk together in the past, so there were still plenty of questions to answer. It didn't take long before Alana had forgotten all about her close call in the bathroom, and soon she was laughing and drinking along with her new flatmates again. It felt good not to worry. Half an hour later it was time to get ready to go out. The five girls split up again, each retreating to their respective rooms. For the first time in hours, Becky unplugged her speaker and left the kitchen weirdly silent. Alana was the last to leave, finishing her last glass of gin and lemonade before staggering as calmly as she could manage back to her room. Even drunk, she noticed the smell of poop right away when the door buzzed open. She considered trying to take a leak before they left, but it felt like there was nothing in her to squeeze out yet, so Alana closed her toilet lid and went for her other stuff. She gathered a coat, her wallet and her phone, which had been charging on the desk. Then, just to be sure, she checked the wallet for her ID, both of her cards and some change to give to the cloakroom. A sober Alana had planned everything out meticulously- it was just down to drunk Alana now to remember everything she had to do. After a minute of checking her make-up in the bathroom mirror, illuminated by the dazzlingly bright overhead light, she returned to join the others in the hallway. It was a relief to see that she wasn't the last one out; Becky was still in her room, and Alex jested that she thought the short girl was taking a dump. When Becky emerged from her room, laughing that she felt ten pounds lighter, they walked together down the stairs and into the courtyard apartment. Then they waited patiently while Zoe ran back upstairs to collect the driver's license she'd forgotten on her desk. The air outside was already cold, but the girls were buzzed enough to barely notice it on their exposed arms and legs. The city at night was exactly what Alana had expected. Of course, it was busier than usual tonight, being the Saturday before Fresher's Week. Most of the new generation of students would have moved in today, according to her dad. They certainly passed plenty on the way down to the nightlife district, groups outside pubs or packed into a giant McDonalds with bouncers outside, something that Alana had never dreamed of seeing back in the small town where she'd grown up. It felt alive here, the lights vibrant, the people diverse and thrillingly unpredictable. The group was in fine form, laughing and joking as well as ever, emboldened by the buzz of the night so far. It felt both strange and exhilarating to be away from home together, and knowing that they were only just starting was freeing to all five of them. On the walk, they passed so many bars and clubs and takeaway places that someone would say they wanted to check out. If they were smart with money, Megan pointed out, the five would have more than enough time to try them all. In between came the same good-natured teasing and joking that had gelled the group into getting along so well in the first place. Even Alex, usually the quietest of them, was joining in on the fun. Alana, for her part, had completely stopped worrying about the effects the booze would have on her bladder and bowels. Her incident in the bathroom earlier that night hadn't humbled her- in fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Now she felt invincible, confident that she could make it to the toilet later just as she had done then. The healthy dose of bathroom anxiety that usually kept her 100% continent was nowhere to be seen anymore. It felt like they had only been walking for ten minutes when the club district soon came into view, even if a glance the clock on her phone told Alana they had actually travelled for thrice that time. Everywhere around here were queues of students, sometimes stretching back for what looked like a quarter mile or more. It was packed. All five girls stopped and stood in a huddle to the side of the road, scanning the email apps on their phones to find the electronic tickets that had been sent earlier. Before they went to join the queue for the club they'd booked, which seemed like the busiest of the lot, Zoe spoke up. "I really need a wee before we get in that queue," she slurred loudly, "anyone want to come and keep watch?" Alana decided that she wouldn't mind a few minutes down a quiet alleyway somewhere to get her head straight before they went into the belly of the strobe-lighted beast. "I'll come," she said, "I don't need to go, but I'll make sure nobody creepy sees you". ——————————————————————— Half an hour went by before the group finally approached the front of the nightclub queue. Alana had known it would be busy out here, but she had never seen anything like this before- the whole street was swarming with drunken students. Most were just talking, although every now and then a fight would break out, or someone would start calling across the road to someone they recognised. The line crept forward. Fortunately, Alana was still drunk enough that she didn't mind. The booze was keeping her warm, and the conversation between the five girls was keeping her brain awake. The only thing she wished she'd done differently was that she was starting to seriously regret not taking a piss in the alleyway with Zoe when she had the chance. The shorter girl had squatted expertly over concrete and hissed out a long, hard jet that soaked the floor so much Alana had to take a step back to stop her shoes from getting wet. While she shook to dry her crotch, Zoe had offered to swap roles and keep watch while Alana emptied her bladder. But Alana hadn't needed to go much back then, so she'd declined, not realising how quickly her need would shoot up while they queued for the club. Finally it was their turn, and Alana extracted her ID from her wallet to hand to the security guard outside. It felt odd; she'd never needed her driver's license to get into a building before. A bizarre, unfounded paranoia set in that the guard would find some reason not to let her in, but of course they were all allowed to pass with no issue. The five regrouped and scanned their tickets at the door. Each was hit with a stamp in red ink on the back of their hand, and then they were in. If the outside of the club was busy, inside was absolutely stacked. There seemed to be people climbing the rafters, and you could barely move for clubbers. Photographers weaved expertly in and out of the crowds, taking pictures of groups in cringeworthy poses. Someone was walking around dressed as Shrek. Alana didn't know what to make of it, but the booze had loosened her up enough that she didn't mind a little crazy. In fact, that was an understatement. By this point everything she'd had to drink at the flat had kicked in, and she was up for plenty of crazy. Just as soon as she found somewhere to pee. Just as she was about to go and find the toilets, Megan grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the bar. It took half a minute to make the ten-metre journey thanks to all the bodies they needed to squeeze past. Eventually the quintet emerged by a long wooden bar, where a young man dressed in black took their order. Alana had completely forgotten- they'd all agreed to have their first drink in a club together, as soon as they got there. Each ordered a spirit with mixer and a shot. Alana didn't see the harm in it; now that she was safely inside the club she could just head to the loos whenever she had to go. Just as soon as she figured out where they were... So she was eager to get the drinks down her quickly. The five of them clinked their shot glasses together and knocked them back. It was some sour green concoction that Alana didn't care for, but it was at least cheap- and it was going to get her drunk, which was all she really wanted. Then the other drink went down the hatch. Her comrades were impressed by how quickly Alana downed it. They didn't know that the only reason was so she could get away from there and try to find the bathroom sharpish. If she wasn't fast enough, she was going to wet herself, she was sure of it. But a whole lap of the club didn't lead her to the answer she wanted. There were no doors with that familiar silhouette of a woman on the front, or even the word 'ladies'. As the desperation ramped up another notch, Alana could find no sign of a place where she could relieve herself. Her bladder was painfully full now. She had forgotten, in her drunken stupor, just how quickly she could go from comfortable to bursting when she'd been drinking. The bathroom had to be around here somewhere... and she had to find it within the next couple of minutes, otherwise she'd be walking home in drenched jeans. Every step seemed to just make it harder to hold everything in. She bumped frantically into the elbow of a man nearby, and it dug into her bladder. Her belly was bloated and firm from fulness, but the pressure of his bone digging into her very nearly made her lose control altogether. Just as Alana was almost resigned to pissing herself, she caught sight of what looked like a girl getting progressively shorter in a gap through the crowd. At first she thought she must be drunker than she had realised. Then she watched as the same thing happened to a guy in another direction, and it hit her- stairs! She hadn't even known this place had a downstairs. Alana charged through the crowd, her salvation within reach The walk down those stairs was one of the hardest things Alana had done in her life. Each and every step felt as though it could be the final straw. She tried to walk with her thighs glued together, but being so drunk made it hard to stay in control, and twice she almost stumbled. The stairs went down, doubled back on themselves and descended again. People in front of her seemed to be walking impossibly slowly. A single leak spurted out of her and turned that new thong hot and wet. Alana was forced to do something then that she had badly wanted to avoid: she grabbed her pussy through her jeans and squeezed. People started staring once she did that. Why wouldn't they? What was normal about a teenager walking around a club holding herself like a little kid? She felt a tear well in each eye, and for once she couldn't blame the gin. At the bottom of the stairs she finally spotted the luminescent sign for the bathroom. It was on the other side of the room. Vision blurred, Alana pushed through the crowd as best as she could, never taking her hand off of her sex as she walked. Some people saw her coming and moved aside to let her pass, concern in their eyes. At some point, she realised, she must have leaked again. She hadn't noticed at the time. Finally, for the first time since getting into the club, Alana was spat out by the crowd into just the smallest pocket of space. There was the women's bathroom... and there was a queue of a dozen girls stretching out of the door. That did it. Alana's body gave in. She started to wet herself. She could feel it, but she couldn't stop it. The queerest mixture of emotions overwhelmed Alana's mind in that moment. First came the immense relief of her sphincter relaxing at last. Then the warmth, the unparalleled warmth that spread across her crotch and down her legs, turning her jeans from grey to black in the darkness. Over the music there was no way she could hear the hiss that she knew was coming out of her pussy. Lastly, there came the shame, which washed over her like a tsunami. She was standing in a busy room on the first night of university, and she was pissing her pants hard. Alana groaned out loud. When she opened her eyes, people were staring. And not just a handful of people- it felt like dozens of eyes were on her. There was no cliché'd kid holding up a phone camera and pointing it at her legs, nor the huge puddle that was spreading across the floor. They all just looked shocked... and slightly sorry for her. That sympathy was worse than the wetting somehow. It made her feel like trash, like some drunken slut who couldn't hold her liquor and needed to be looked after. She felt like a pathetic, alcoholic mess. Then Becky was there, standing beside her with a hand on her shoulder. Alana turned to the girl, tears running down her cheeks now. "I pissed myself," she said stupidly, "I couldn't fucking hold it. I pissed myself". Becky started to lead her away, towards the stairs again. "I think I'm gonna walk you home," she said. "No, no," Alana protested, even now hearing how hammered she was in her shaky voice, "I'll get home myself, it's fine". As soon as they stepped into the fresh air, Alana turned and puked violently onto the pavement, narrowly missing the feet of a nearby bouncer. That was the last thing she remembered that night.
  19. Until she'd actually arrived, Alana would never have guessed how long it would take to unpack all of her crap. At home, she swore it hadn't felt like she'd loaded up this many bags. Maybe it felt like less when the luggage was being carried between her and both parents; now that all the responsibility fell her way, she suddenly found herself drowning in an ocean of clothes she'd probably never need and towels she'd definitely never use. She didn't mind at all- it gave her something to put her mind to while she waited for her friends to arrive. The first turned up not long before noon, hauling huge sacks that even made Alana's packing look modest. Becky was a short girl, and some of the bags she'd stuffed with clothes were almost as tall as her. Alana had to give her and her mum a hand just to get half of it up the stairs. Standing around five feet, with hair that could easily reach her waist when pulled straight, Becky had never been one for practicalities. The two had met during A Level Business two years before, and each found the other easy to get along with. They both liked the same kinds of music and shared in the same senses of humour. And they both packed too much. Becky dragged the last of her bags into her room, a few doors down the hall from Alana. She left them there, sweating, announced that she'd unpack later (which they both knew meant 'next week') and promptly went out again with her mum, who wanted to take her out to lunch to celebrate the start of term. That left Alana on her own in the flat again, with nothing to do but sort out a few more bags. Until, that was, Zoe arrived an hour later. Almost as short as Becky but with none of the natural slim figure, Zoe was the kind of person who was always smiling, even when it was clear to everyone else that she shouldn't be. Somehow, despite barely revising for any of her exams, she'd pulled through with a B in her Business A Level and been accepted by the university. The rest of the group had spent more of the buildup to results day worrying about Zoe's grade than their own, because they knew they were almost certain to be split up if she didn't get in. Alana had always thought that Zoe dressed like a kid, but in a way that was more endearing than irritating. Today she wore blue denim dungarees over a yellow t-shirt, with bright red sneakers. Whether it was her bubbly personality or the chubby, youthful round look her face wore, Zoe could just about pull off that kind of outfit, even if she regularly earned shocked looks from bartenders when she handed over her ID. She'd barely packed anything; it seemed to Alana like her friend had rolled out of bed that morning, thrown a few things into a couple of bags and dragged them to Cavendish. A few shopping trips were in order if she was going to survive the winter. That wouldn't be a problem- Zoe's parents were loaded. Alana could hear Zoe unpacking while she went for a pee in the middle of the day. The girl had been assigned the room next to Alana's, which happened to be furthest from the kitchen. The walls weren't exactly thick. Sitting there, letting a stream pour out of her and into the water, she could make out the sound of Zoe closing her closet. Alana had already decided that she liked her new toilet. Even if the room was tiny, just the luxury of having it all to herself made things totally worth it. And she never had to feel claustrophobic because the door could always be kept open. Ventilation wasn't a problem, the sink was right next to the can... and it was only half a dozen steps or so from her bed, which was bound to come in plenty useful on nights when she woke up needing to go. It was a big improvement on home, where the bathroom was a short pilgrimage away from her bedroom. Usually she would try and hold it in until morning rather than face the walk through the dark, cold corridors. Housemate number four moved in while Alana was trying to connect to the building's WiFi. When she heard who was with them, she decided to stay in her room. Megan was the posh girl of the group, which Alana had long since gotten used to, but her parents took it to another level. They were uptight snobs who looked down their noses at anyone with less money than them, as far as she was concerned. Megan had always carried an air of faint embarrassment whenever her friends had met her parents; Alana had no intention of running into them today. So she kept sorting out her room quietly, pretending that she wasn't around. Only when she was sure the rich parents had gone home did Alana wander down the hall to say hi to Megan, who was unpacking with her door propped open. She looked as relieved as anyone not to be in the presence of those two anymore; while she still had plenty of her old posh tendencies, Alana had found that once you got to know Megan, she totally lacked the prejudices and judgemental tendencies of the people that had raised her. A pretty blonde with eyes that could seem either blue or green on any given day, Megan was also the resident grade-getter of the group, and the only person whose acceptance at the university had never been in doubt. Alana was sure that the girl could have passed the exam with her eyes closed. She was also a lesbian, and had gotten so good at pretending she wasn't that she seemed to have to turn down a different boy every week. All five families lived in the same area, so Alana was amused to see the wildly different times that each set of parents had decided to turn up. It was almost four in the afternoon by the time the fifth and final member of the group had been dropped off. To call Alex a tomboy would be putting it mildly- in their seven years of knowing each other, Alana had never seen the other woman with hair that went past her ears. She was tall, thin and proud of her flat chest. Like Zoe, she'd muddled through her exams, preferring to spend her free time with a guitar in her hands than a textbook. Her packing was industrious: three suitcases and a big, unceremonious sack full of clothes which she tossed carelessly onto her bed. Alana went to help Alex unpack, seeing as she'd already more or less finished in her own room by that time. They talked about plans to check out the city the next day, find out what the best places to buy groceries were and what bus stops got the most regular service. All five rooms were basically identical, with only minor differences to the layout. At last the five of them were alone, and it felt like the year could really get going. They gathered in the kitchen, each trying to assign themselves an equal share of the cupboard space, drawers and fridge-freezer shelves. Alex barely had enough cutlery and tools to fill a single tray, while Becky had to cram in half her possessions like sardines. Alana just sat back and watched, having tucked all of her kitchen stuff away before half of them had even set foot in the building. She was relaxing on a sofa at the back of the room, perfectly in line with the flatscreen TV hung on one wall. They talked as they unpacked, making plans for their first night as students. There were plenty of deals around the city for freshers, and everyone had just got their student loans in to burn- the question was where to go. Again, Alana felt happy to let the more outspoken members of the group make the decisions. She preferred to tag along... and besides, she had something else on her mind. When her housemates agreed to meet back in the kitchen no later than seven, Alana went back to her room to collect her wallet and key. Then she set out down the street towards an off-license she'd seen around the corner to pick up some booze. In truth, worry was already in the back of her mind. Her friends had already received a taste of what alcohol could do to her bladder, but they had no idea yet that her accident on their last night out hadn't been a one-off. She wanted to fit in and have fun, but she knew she needed to be careful. The last thing she needed was to get a reputation as the girl who soiled herself when she got drunk. ————————————————————————————————————————————— As seven o'clock crawled slowly closer, Alana stood beneath her shower for the second time that day. She hadn't bothered to draw the curtain across, and through the mist of a fogged-up mirror she could see the dark ebony outline of her naked body. The water ran hot and steaming, the way she liked it, over her skin and around her feet. She took care not to get her hair wet, knowing it would take hours to dry, and she already had her afro exactly how she wanted it for the night ahead. Her nipples stood hard enough to cut glass, but Alana wasn't thinking about sex- she was just excited for the night ahead. Her bladder twinged curiously while she was rinsing soap out of the coarse hair in her armpits, and she made no attempt to stop it from beginning to empty. At home, her mother had strictly forbidden peeing in the shower, but that had never really stopped Alana. Now she didn't have to worry about secrecy at all. She hoped that squeezing out the last few drops of urine here would mean she didn't have to break the seal for at least a couple of hours into the night, but experience had taught her that her bladder rarely worked like that. Still, it felt nice to let the warm golden liquid run down her closed legs before the water washed away any evidence of what she'd done. When every last trace of soap was rinsed out, Alana turned off the water and walked, dripping wet, back to her bed, where a towel was laid out and waiting. She still got a tiny thrill out of walking around the place in the nude. Her blinds were open, but she didn't mind the thought that there was a tiny chance someone in a student apartment across the street might chance to glance into her window at just the right time to catch her with no clothes on. Then the towel was wrapped around her, and the moment was gone. On came some music on her phone; she had a whole playlist on Spotify designed exclusively to get her in the mood for nights like these, which she'd organised on the drive up to the city that morning. Set out on the bed were the clothes she planned to wear that night: a tight black t-shirt, a black bra and thong set so thin they were practically invisible and a pair of jeans that fit just right to cling to her legs. She scrubbed her whole body dry, taking special care to remove any moisture from between her toes, in her armpits, from her butt crack and the little crevices where her inner thighs met the mounds of her pussy. When everything was bone dry, the towel was tossed back on the top of the open bathroom door and she pulled on the thong. It had never been worn before, but she smiled at the feeling of a perfect fit. Next came the jeans, then the bra, taking with it the last chance for anyone looking in to get a good view that night. All dressed, Alana grabbed the bottle she'd bought from the off-licence. It was a litre of pink gin that had cost enough to make her eyes water, but she had been feeling reckless ever since seeing her bank account fill up from her student loan earlier in the week. She'd also stocked up on lemonade and ice, which were already packed away in the kitchen, just waiting for her to start pouring. Alana got to the kitchen a few minutes before seven and found all of her housemates already gathered around the table. Becky was in charge of the music, as per usual; a little portable speaker was sitting on the worktop, blasting out chart-toppers with her phone plugged in nearby. In front of each of them was already a drink. Most of them looked full, but it was clear from a glance that Zoe, at least, had started drinking a while ago- only a few dregs of Pepsi remained at the bottom of her cup. They were in the middle of a heated discussion about what they should order to eat that night. In the end everyone transferred a few pounds over to Becky and let her order them some pizza. Alana didn't have her phone with her, so she promised to buy her friend a drink when they went out instead. "Okay, we're all here," Megan announced, pulling up a chair and patting to indicate that Alana should sit, "let's get these drinking games going". By night, the kitchen was an airy space lit up with almost fluorescent vibrance. There was more than enough room around the table for the five of them. Alana carried her pink gin to the fridge and set it down while she pulled out the lemonade, some ice and a cup. "Let me get a drink first," she said, unscrewing the lid. Her mission that night was to get just tipsy enough to have fun without overdoing it, getting drunk and risking an accident. So she poured just a little gin into the glass, not realising that everyone else was watching her. There was good-natured outcry when she stopped with barely half an inch of gin in the cup. "That wouldn't get a baby drunk, mate," Alex snorted, "come on, at least twice that much". Alana didn't blame them; they weren't to know why she was reluctant. So she poured in a little more and couldn't help but grin as they cheered and whopped approvingly. When she turned back, Megan had set up the table to play a familiar game. A circle of cards were spread face-down around an empty pint glass. She knew how Ring of Fire worked. If she got lucky, she'd barely have to drink at all... but some bad fortune with the cards could get her absolutely hammered. Of course, there was another option, which was to tell the girls the truth about why she didn't want to get too drunk... but the thought of admitting it made her nervous, especially as they seemed to have forgotten about her wetting herself on the last night out. Instead she kept quiet and took her place between Megan and Zoe, and the group began to play. Something all too familiar happened as Alana started drinking- she could feel herself growing in confidence, and those worries about getting drunk slowly evaporated. By the time they were down to the last King card, she'd almost forgotten all about her misgivings. The alcohol had persuaded her that it wasn't going to be such a big deal after all. That was exactly what had been her downfall the last time. Already, Alana was starting to have to pee. She could feel her bladder filling up as she went through one, then two, then three glasses of booze. The third time, nobody even had to encourage her to pour a strong drink, she just did it because she wanted to. And she still had no intention of leaving the game to go pee. She was having too much fun for that. Their pizza arrived with the game drawing to a close, and it was Zoe who volunteered to head down the stairs and collect the boxes from the gate. Nobody stopped to ask how she was expected to carry it all back up by herself with no free hands to open the doors. In the end Alex went to rescue her, and they soon had three huge pizzas spread out on the table. Privately, Alana had to worry that the grease and meat would end in her needing to poop pretty bad by tomorrow morning, if not sooner- she hadn't had her evening dump yet, though she could feel that it was coming. None of the women saw any reason to let the arrival of the food put a stop to the drinking games, especially with only six of the fifty-two cards left to draw. Alana was getting some good luck, but she knew it wasn't going to last. With every passing turn, she hoped that the final King would be drawn by anyone but her- whoever found it would have to neck the pint of Pepsi, beer, wine, vodka and gin in the centre, plus some of their own drink. It came as no surprise at all to Alana when she turned over her last card and saw that red 'K' staring back at her mockingly. The other girls cheered, and she considered refusing, but the idea of setting a precedent like that didn't seem worth it to Alana. So, without giving herself enough time to chicken out, she poured the rest of her drink into the pint glass, picked it up and began to slurp it down as the others chanted from eight down to one. When she slammed the glass back down on the table, it was more than clear to Alana that she was going to regret taking the drink in the morning- if not much, much sooner.
  20. This is another commission for @ed2- PM me if you want anything for yourself! Again, it includes themes of alcohol and drug use, plus messing and some nudity. Enjoy! ------------------------------------------------- For the fifth time that morning, Alana and her parents returned to the car they had parked a few minutes from Cavendish Student Accommodation. The air was still crisp outside, with it being barely after sunrise on a September Saturday. Traffic was beginning to beep and creak in the distance. Here, though, the last strands of peace and quiet in the city still survived for now. Light had even threatened to start peeking through the clouds, adding some warmth to the cool dryness of the concrete. Every now and then another car would roll past, looking for somewhere to stop. The family had spent the last hour making the trip back and forth from their car to her new bedroom for the year. Every time they would take two or three bags each, then head down the road, into the building, up two flights of stairs, through the apartment door they'd propped open with a wedge and along the corridor until they reached the room right at the end- the room that Alana would occupy for the next nine months. At last they'd gotten the abundance of luggage down to the final few bags, and the task was almost complete. Now they stood by the car, and Alana knew she wouldn't be getting in it again until Christmas. "You guys don't have to come in with me," she told them, "I can take the last few bags myself, and my friends will be here soon". The five girls from her college that had been accepted by this university all managed to book themselves rooms in the same five-person apartment, none of them particularly fancying the prospect of shacking up with people they didn't know. With some co-ordination, they'd gotten an early word in and secured a single flat to share. Alana's parents asked if she was sure, as she'd known they would do... and they were reluctant to let her go, as she'd known they would be. But she talked them around with some improvised lines about starting to be more independent, and soon enough she was hugging them in turn and promising to call them and be good. She loved her parents, really, but she'd also been looking forward to living away from home for the first time in her life. The five of them had so many plans for the trouble they'd get into without any adults around. She stayed on the corner of the street and watched their little car pull away, somewhat ashamed of herself for not feeling as sad as she knew she should. When they were out of sight, she put one backpack around her left shoulder and one around her right, then picked up the last bag and turned away to get back to her new room. Even having her own room was an adventure to Alana. It felt great to be out of the cold again, and her electronic key buzzed satisfyingly when she held it against the lock to her dorm. Though she would never in a million years have admitted it to her parents, there was another reason why Alana wanted to be alone now. Her body had been brewing up a poop all morning, it felt like, which hadn't been helped by the coffee she'd picked up at a drive-through Starbucks on the way there. Alana was a twice-a-day pooper: once in the morning, once in the evening. She liked to keep her body regular. Today, however, the hectic business of moving in had afforded her no time to empty her bowels. That was why she wanted some privacy. Alana went into her new room and let the heavy door swing shut behind her as she set down her bags with the others. All in all, it was hard not to be thrilled with the place; it was at least twice the size of the bedroom she'd shared for most of her life. It even had a desk. And, as her mother had reminded her twenty minutes before, it would only look even bigger once the left wall wasn't lined with bags that needed unpacking. A king-sized bed sat at one end of the room, opposite the en suite. Thus far, Alana hadn't found the time for more than a cursory glance into her new bathroom. Now she had all the time in the world. She flung the door wide open, at once both delighted and thrown off by the idea that she could simply leave it this way. There was no reason to close herself in- nobody else could get in here without a key, anyway. Sure, the bathroom itself wasn't the biggest, but Alana wasn't about to complain. It had a shower, a toilet, a sink and a mirror, and that was all a girl needed anyway. As much as she still needed to take a dump, Alana was in no rush now. She decided she wanted a shower, to make up for missing out on one in the rush to leave the house earlier that morning. All of her bathroom stuff was in one bag, and that was the first thing she opened. From it she grabbed a bottle of shampoo, some conditioner, a body wash and a towel. She thought for a second, then went back and fished out a toilet roll. Alana always came prepared. She stripped off down to the bare skin, revelling in the novelty of being free to walk around naked. Alana left every last piece of clothing on her new bed and wondered vaguely if anyone would be able to see her nude body through the window. Either way, she was confident in her own invisibility once she was in the bathroom, even if the door was left all the way open. That was a relief: she may not mind strangers seeing her tits or arse, but being observed while she was trying to take a shit was a very different matter. So she put her toiletries down where they belonged and sat on the loo, phone in her hands. For a while nothing happened- Alana preferred to take her time on the toilet. She scrolled through social media, satisfied with letting nature take its course. When she felt movement, it didn't take much effort to earn the rewards. A thick, loose morning log snaked out of her bum, tailing off into the water to make way for the next piece. All the while Alana didn't take her eyes off of her phone. For her, pooping was a slow process, and she saw no reason to try and change that. Once the first, biggest piece was out, things moved a lot more easily for Alana's bowels. That was almost always the way: she kicked things off with a nice, big log, before the remainder tumbled out as if the plug keeping it in had been removed. While the last of the poop pushed through her tight hole, Alana started to pee. She barely noticed, in truth; engrossed in her phone, she was more than happy to let her muscles work on autopilot. She hadn't had a difficult time with the bathroom since she was a child... well, sober, at least. The last thing left to do was wipe. Alana's parents had insisted that she bring a dozen rolls of toilet paper to university with her, because they knew that she went through a lot. Two poops a day, always big, always wet... it would sometimes take her twenty sheets or more of hard wiping before she was satisfied that her butt was clean enough. One of the things she couldn't stand was pulling up her panties before the paper was coming away completely white. Usually that happened around the fifteenth doubled-up sheet. On a particularly gassy morning, more like twenty-fifth. But when that paper was coming away pure, Alana flushed and chucked her phone across the room to land on her unmade bed. She'd always been a stickler for cleanliness when it came to her bathroom habits, which was why she was so nervous about what might happen later that night when everyone started drinking. She'd had enough booze before to have a pretty good idea of what happened to her bodily functions when she got drunk. It was enough to say that drunk Alana's carefree values when it came to hygiene didn't line up with sober Alana's strict rules. Eager to try out her new shower, Alana pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and jumped under the warm, powerful water. It felt so good to be able to stand under her own shower, knowing that she could take as long as she liked without any siblings or parents coming to knock on the door to tell her to hurry up. Hell, she didn't even close the door. Alana washed herself until she couldn't get any cleaner. Her friends- her new flatmates- would be arriving in the next few hours, and she wanted to be at her best for them.
  21. This one is a commission based off an idea by @ed2- it features some alcohol and drug content so be warned! --------------------------------- There was still dew on the grass when Cassie pulled up her handbrake outside Hawthorne Court on Saturday morning. She left the car overhanging a double yellow; there were no parking rules today. The city had relaxed all restrictions in anticipation of almost ten thousand teenagers moving in, to save parents the hassle of looking for somewhere to leave their vehicles while they lugged luggage into the cramped budget rooms that students would be spending the next ten months in. Cassie had not come with her parents, and there was no traffic when she arrived just past seven. She liked to do things early. In the chilly air she grabbed the first backpack from her passenger seat, pausing only to check her reflection in the wing mirror. While not usually one to worry about her appearance, Cassie was suddenly nervous to meet her roommate- she wanted to make a good first impression, if she could. In truth, Cassie hadn't wanted a roommate. She hadn't been left with much choice. Her budget was not exactly flexible. But she was stuck with one, and it wouldn't do to turn up looking like a straggler on the first day. Brushing blonde hair out of brown eyes, Cassie dabbed one finger with her tongue and used the moisture to rub the dry skin under her nose into some kind of shape. It looked better once she'd got some spit on it, albeit still noticeable up close. One thing that wasn't so obvious was the puppy fat that still protruded over her waistband just a little. Cassie had gotten used to wearing baggy clothes to hide her figure, which came in doubly useful when she wanted to disguise the flat chest she'd never been happy with. Cassie left her little car where it was and approached the building, one hand clutching the electronic key fob she'd picked up twenty minutes before from a building that served almost all of the city's student halls. She was looking forward to testing out the toilet in her new dorm, if mainly because she'd been in the car for three hours and now she really needed to use it. Luckily, her room was only on the first floor, and it took no more than twenty seconds to get from the entrance of the building to the door of the place she'd be living in that year. The building was just as she'd expected- cheap and not particularly clean- but it would do. While Cassie was used to more lavish surroundings, her family had fallen on hard times since her childhood and this was the one of the few accommodations in the city they could afford, as long as the student loan company recognised them as still being rich. She was determined to make the best of it. Reaching the door to room 12, Cassie felt like a ghost in the building. Almost everyone was moving in today, but so early in the morning none of them were around yet. She opened the door and was met with one of the biggest shocks of her life. Cassie had already seen the floor plan of the rooms when she'd booked to move in, so she'd already known how small it would be. She'd already known that there was one single bed against either wall, facing a tiny TV, a pair of desks and two small clothes closets. She'd already known that the shared en-suite bathroom was situated directly opposite the entrance. But the last thing she'd have expected was to see the bathroom door wide open, and a young woman sitting on the toilet. Cassie's first instinct was to back away, but she turned just as the door shut behind her and locked automatically. As she was trying to open it again, sure to leave no doubt that she wasn't looking at the girl, a soft voice called out to her. "Hey, where are you going?" Cassie stopped. The voice had an accent, but one she couldn't place. It sounded vaguely South American to her, or maybe Spanish. What really threw her off was the confusion in the voice. It was like the woman couldn't understand why Cassie would try to leave after catching her on the toilet. "I'll- I'll wait outside," Cassie stammered, starting to pull the front door open. "Oh, I would not do that if I were you," the voice said- it sounded like she was smiling. "I'm going to be here for a long time". Not seeing any other option, Cassie slowly turned back around and looked at the sitting girl. She certainly looked like she could be from South America, with hair the colour of chocolate and big eyes to match. Cassie thought she had a pretty face- no supermodel, in her opinion, but certainly pretty. Sitting on the toilet in profile, Cassie could only see the girl's left side, but that was enough to get a good idea that they were roughly of an age with each other. She wore jeans pulled down all the way to her ankles, just a hint of pink underwear visible tucked inside the denim. On her top half was one of the tightest tee-shirts Cassie had ever seen, and they left little to the imagination when it came to a pair of d-cup breasts, or a perfectly flat belly. It was cut off high, revealing two purple stretch marks. "I didn't expect to see anyone so early! You must be a morning person," the girl said. As she spoke, Cassie couldn't miss the clear tinkle of pee hitting the water in the bowl. It was only a short spurt, no more than a second. Cassie got the impression that the woman had finished peeing a while ago, and this was just an aftershock as she attempted to push out something much bigger. The smell in the room certainly backed that up- a scent of stale farts, beyond a doubt. Again Cassie found herself wondering if she should wait outside. "Do you... want me to close the bathroom door?" Cassie asked, timidly starting towards where the woman was seated. "No, leave it open. There are no windows in here, it needs the air". The girl fanned the air around her with one hand as if to demonstrate. Cassie could only imagine how bad it must have smelt up close. "My name is Lola," she said. "I'm Cassie," said Cassie. "You must be my new roommate?" A fart sputtered out of Lola, echoing in the bowl. "I moved in last night. I didn't think you'd be here until later". "I'm guessing that explains the open door?" Lola gave her a puzzled look. "No,' she said, "I just didn't close it". "Oh, okay". Cassie wasn't sure how to take that. She was about to excuse herself and go to grab more bags from her car when Lola said, "So, what are you studying?" "Anthropology, and you?" "I do Ancient History," Lola told her with a slight grunt in her voice. Cassie was more than a little confused by the scene she'd walked into. She'd never seen another person on the toilet before. Her family were private people, and she'd been taught from a very early age that this wasn't something that should ever be shared, not with anyone. She couldn't understand why her new roommate was casually going with the door open as if there was no shame at all in what she was doing. Still, she was determined not to appear rude or overdramatic, so she didn't say the things she was thinking. She didn't ask Lola what the hell was wrong with her, for example. Who leaves the door open when they go to the toilet, especially for a number two? It didn't make any sense to her at all. "I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable," Lola said, acknowledging the unusual situation for the first time, "I would have preferred to meet you first". You and me both. "It's okay. I was just a bit surprised, that's all". "I always have to poop in the mornings," explained Cassie's new roommate, "it usually takes me a while. I think I'm nearly done here, though". "That's... good?" Lola smiled at her with perfect teeth. "Ay, you don't need to be so shy. We're roommates now, there's no point being modest". Cassie had already thought that through, though in truth she didn't much like thinking about it. Yes, it was true that it wouldn't be practical to worry about privacy when sharing a room. She couldn't get changed in the bathroom every single day. Still, she'd figured it would be easy enough to put on and off her bras and pairs of knickers under the sheets, then slip out of bed for the rest. This was a completely different matter. And Cassie had another reason to want Lola off the toilet as soon as possible: her need to pee was getting much worse. If she didn't sit down and go soon, things were likely to get very uncomfortable for her. But there was no way she was going to admit that out loud, especially not to someone she barely knew. Hell, she hated talking about her bodily functions even to her closest friends and family. Clearly Lola had no such inhibitions. She was grunting openly now, straining hard to finish the job. The girl's brown eyes scrunched shut tightly when she pushed. It might have been endearing in another context, but not when Cassie could see the rest of Lola's body- including one thigh and some of her bum. Cassie was about to say something when a loud splash rang out through the room. Across Lola's pretty face spread a look of exquisite relief, as if she'd just pushed a bowling ball out of her. She grinned at Cassie as the smell in the room intensified by half. It was so powerful that Cassie felt as though she was in the room with Lola. "That feels so much better already," she sighed, relaxing her tensed muscles, "I needed to go last night but I thought is better to wait". Another trickle of urine pattered into the water like rain. Lola reached uncomfortably behind herself to lift a near-full roll of toilet paper off of the tank. She carefully tore off two squares and folded them to form one thick piece. That's strange, Cassie thought, we're clearly nothing alike and yet we wipe in the same way. What a weird thing to notice. She banished the rogue thought from her mind; suddenly she was very aware that she hadn't said anything in a long time. When Lola wiped her butt for a first time and brought the soiled paper out to inspect, Cassie finally decided it was her cue to leave. "I'm- going to go and get some more of my things, from my car. I'll be back in a minute". Lola dropped the paper between her thick thighs, apparently satisfied, and tore another two squares off. "Okay! It was nice meeting you, Cassie!" With her own bladder still uncomfortably full, Cassie slipped out of the room, careful not to open the door too wide in case a passer-by got an unwanted glimpse of her roommate doing something gross. Her head was swimming on the way back down the stairs. Did she really just meet her new roommate in such a bizarre situation? She certainly had no intention of coming straight back up with a bag. She wanted to wait a moment to give Lola time to finish up, so that the next time they saw each other both would be fully clothed and maybe- just maybe- they could forget the whole bloody thing. She wouldn't wait too long, though. She really needed a wee. ————————————————————————————————————————— In spite of the unorthodox start to their relationship, Cassie's first week living with Lola passed by in a flash. That was mainly because they were both so busy- between induction classes, campus tours and Lola going out partying almost every night, they hadn't seen much of each other. Cassie enjoyed the evenings, when she'd be alone in the room. She could sit on her bed and put whatever she wanted on TV, or listen to music, or get some studying done. They'd met on Saturday, and by the next Friday afternoon, Cassie still felt like she barely knew Lola. Lola's attitude to bathroom priv4acy hadn't changed one bit, so far as Cassie could tell. When the girl had to pee, she would do it, without closing the door or worrying where Cassie was. Apparently Lola hadn't even considered the possibility that Cassie might think it was weird. She didn't hesitate, either, when she needed to go number two- which happened at least once a day, as reliable as the sun coming up. And if Lola had had a lot to drink the night before (which had been almost every night) she would need to empty her bowels in the mornings, too. It was always loud, it always smelt and it always took a couple of flushes. She was a sharer, too, always telling Cassie when she had to go or how much better she felt after she'd finished. Cassie still felt too shy to say anything back, so she tended to change the subject instead. For her part, she always closed the door when she used the bathroom, and she didn't see that changing any time soon. Just because she was getting used to Lola being open with her body didn't mean Cassie was getting comfortable with it. Cassie herself hadn't pooped all week. She knew it wasn't healthy. She'd never gone anywhere near this long without doing one before, and since Tuesday the need had made itself known plenty. But she was still dreading the idea of going with Lola around. The logical part of her brain knew that she'd need to face her fear at some point, and yet she'd put it off. That wasn't personal; Cassie had never felt comfortable pooping with anyone else in earshot. She was far too self-conscious about the noises, the smells... and she knew from experience how thin these walls were. Not to mention that the bathroom door didn't lock. You could close it, but there was no bolt to be slid across. All of that meant that Cassie was thoroughly desperate to take a crap as she walked home from her last class of the week just after lunch on Friday. She walked with her legs close together, belly cramping and rumbling alternately. Every now and then she'd be forced to let out some gas as she walked, which made her face turn pink and her trousers start to smell. She didn't know the city well enough to know where any public toilets were, either. She'd held out as long as she could, but Cassie knew that she had no choice now: she'd have to poop in the dorm. It was getting far too painful to keep holding, and besides, there was no end in sight. The moment where her body made the decision for her had arrived. So Cassie walked up the single set of stairs to her bedroom, praying that Lola wouldn't be in. Fortunately, she opened the door to complete airy silence, which was only broken when she farted involuntarily. She needed to go right now. Their shared bathroom was absolutely miniscule. There really was no better word for it. The whole thing was barely bigger than a broom cupboard, with the toilet squished between a sink and a shower. Shower was a generous word for it, too, as the water was really just sprayed onto the bare floor, where it flowed down a drain in front of the loo. There wasn't even a curtain to stop the toilet seat getting wet. Cassie had been dreading using this bathroom since she saw how small it would be, and the reality hadn't proved her wrong so far. But when you've got to go, you've got to go, Cassie reflected. And she could no longer postpone the moment when she used this bathroom for the thing it was really built for. So she stepped inside, closed the door and unbuttoned her jeans. Her bare knees almost touched the wooden door when she sat down. The seat was cold against her bum cheeks. But that didn't stop her from starting to pee right away, having not even realised that she needed to, such was her focus on the other end. In the quiet room, the noise was almost pleasant. When her bladder was empty, Cassie started on the part her body had been looking forward to for the better part of a week. She pushed gently at first, all too aware of the cuts and tears that she sometimes got when she strained too hard. The last thing she wanted was to overexert herself. Fortunately, she had to go so badly that it didn't take a lot of pushing for the mass to start sliding out of her. Right away she knew that she was paying for her postponements. The log felt enormous, thick as well as long. It felt, in short, like something only a person who hadn't been in days could produce. The dorm door opened and Cassie froze up right away. Her turd was hanging halfway out of her bum, dangling there like a monstrously wide tail. The feeling was stranger than anything she'd experienced in a long time- Cassie had never tried to pause mid-poop before. She hadn't counted on Lola getting back this early. Instinctively, she reached over for the door handle, hoping to hold it closed as a last resort, but before she could grab a hold the whole thing swung wide open. Lola stood on the other side. She was clearly busting for a pee. The tall girl's legs were bent to a nearly acute angle, and one hand was shoved hard between her thighs, holding her crotch tightly. Her whole body seemed to be squirming, totally unable to stand still. Dangling in front of her eyes was a messy tangle of hair, which she brushed away hurriedly with the free hand. The shirt Lola wore was so thin that Cassie could see her nipples through the fabric. "Hi, Cassie," she said breathlessly, squeezing past a speechless Cassie's legs into the bathroom. Before Cassie could say a word, she unbuttoned her jeans, tearing them down to her ankles again, and her underwear along with them. It all happened so fast that there was no time to protest before Lola was squatting over the shower area and pissing full force onto the floor. Still in shock, Cassie got far more of a look than she bargained for: she saw Lola's pussy for the first time, naked and remarkably hairy. It surprised her that the Spanish girl apparently didn't bother to shave, given how good she usually looked. That's not bloody important right now. Lola moaned in relief and all the while Cassie was doing her best to stop herself from getting any of her own. She'd been so close to pushing out one of the biggest dumps of her life, but that had all gone out of the window as soon as Lola arrived. There was no way Cassie felt comfortable shitting with another person next to her. Instead she tried her best to hold it in, clenching tightly. The heavy log wanted out, so it took a lot of willpower not to just let it fall into the water. She couldn't risk Lola hearing the splash- especially because it was going to be a big splash, she was sure. When Lola was finished peeing, she shook her butt back and forth to get rid of some of the excess fluids. "Can you give me the toilet paper? I need to wipe". Cassie reluctantly handed her the roll. "You can't just come in here while I'm... doing my business," she said, cheeks burning. She'd finally found her voice. It was hard to sound angry while a poop hung out of her bum. "God, don't you have any boundaries? This is a bathroom, Lola". As ever, Lola seemed unfazed. "What's the big deal? We're roommates, no?" "Yes, but I still want some privacy when I'm in here". Her voice betrayed the urgency she was feeling. The need to finish pooping was overwhelming by now, and despite her best efforts Cassie couldn't hold it in much longer. Her entire body was screaming at her just to let it out. She was growing more and more angry now, provoked by desperation. "Fuck, can you get out, please?" "Wait a minute," Lola said, "I'm almost done". "No! Get out now!" Cassie was almost yelling now. She could feel herself losing control. There was nothing she could do. Lola's face was full of hurt. She stood and moved towards the door. "Okay, I'm sorry". But it was too late. Cassie's body took over. The thick log got moving again and rushed out of her, spurred on by the pain in her stomach. It hit the water with a splash so loud that the people in the room next door probably heard it. If Cassie wasn't embarrassed enough, the poop was followed by a huge fart that seemed to go on for five seconds. Her face went even redder. "That sounded big, Lola said over her shoulder, "are you okay?" Now that the poop was out of her, Cassie felt bad for her outburst. "Yeah," she said meekly. "Sorry I shouted. I just really..." she was about to say had to go, but that was more information than she felt comfortable giving. "I really didn't feel well". When Lola left the bathroom, she closed the door behind her for the first time since they'd moved in. That surprised Cassie... and made her feel a little bad. Clearly her harsh words had cut through and made her point. "It's okay," Lola said quickly, "don't even worry about it". Cassie leaned over and opened the door just a crack. "I'm sorry. I like you, Lola, I just... I'm not really comfortable with... some things". "It's okay," Lola said again. "I grew up with three sisters. There was no privacy in my house. I just got used to it. I'll be more considerate from now on," she promised. That felt like a huge weight off of Cassie's shoulders. "Thank you". "Just so you know, I'm getting changed out here. I... never mind". Cassie wondered if Lola was going to say that she hadn't quite made it in time, that she'd leaked a little, and maybe that was why she was changing. Not that it was any of Cassie's business. "That's okay. I'll be a few minutes". Cassie felt a lot better as she wiped her butt, both physically and mentally. If Lola was going to stop being so unashamed of private matters, it would make her life a lot less stressful. And maybe she could even start pooping in the room without worrying about having company. In a way she almost respected Lola's confidence, but she didn't see a world where that same confidence could ever exist in Cassie. She finished wiping, stood up and did something that she almost never did: looked at her handiwork in the bowl. The log was bigger than she even realised she was capable of producing. It was almost a foot long, and wide, too, poking half out of the water. Cassie tried to flush. The log was sucked into the water a little, but it didn't budge. She groaned internally. If she couldn't get this thing to flush, she'd have to explain to Lola that she'd blocked the toilet. —————————————————————————————————————— Cassie was woken up by a throbbing bladder. She sucked in air sharply, panicking; it had been years since she'd woken up needing to pee this badly. Something wasn't right... then she remembered the night before. She'd gone out with Lola, and her new friend had persuaded her to have just a couple of drinks. Cassie, not being much of a drinker in general, had ordered two fruity cocktails, come back to the dorm and promptly fallen asleep. And they'd been big cocktails, too. No wonder she felt like she was trying to hold a lake inside of her body. All at once she realised that she must have been holding it in her sleep, because she woke up with her left hand buried beneath two clenched thighs. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she took in the room. The curtains had been opened at some point, and the TV was on, playing the news at low volume. It was still a little messy in here, but Lola wasn't in bed. Through the bathroom door she could hear the shower running. Lola always showered in the mornings- usually after she'd been for a poo- which was just Cassie's luck. Part of Cassie wanted to get out of bed and pee while Lola showered. But Lola had stuck to her word in the days since their awkward meeting while Cassie was pooping, and it would be hypocritical of her to suddenly go and do the very same thing she'd asked her roommate not to do just because she was the one who was desperate this time. The pretty girl had closed the door every time she'd been in the bathroom, and had even stopped changing when Cassie was in the room. She clearly took Cassie's discomfort seriously, and they'd started feeling like friends because of it. That meant Cassie was determined to try and hold it in until Lola was out of the shower. She turned on her side and held herself under the duvet, squeezing her fleshy crotch hard. Each finger dug into her mound, easing the pressure just a little. Her belly rubbed against the back of her hand, clad in a loose-fitting tee shirt. At home Cassie slept naked, but pyjamas weren't so bad, she'd found. She lay there, knocking her knees together and trying to think of anything other than how badly she had to piss. It was no good. She knew that Lola took long showers. Feeling herself on the verge of an accident, Cassie hauled herself out of bed, which was easier said than done with a hand clutching her privates. She got shakily to her feet and limped to the bathroom. By now she was more desperate for the toilet than she could remember being since she was a kid. It was bad enough that even walking wasn't easy. Approaching the sound of running water only made things worse, too. Fuck, I have to piss so bad. Even in Cassie's mind, she didn't use words like 'piss' unless she was really busting. It took some serious desperation to drive her to such a vulgar term. Some of her friends said it like it was nothing, but not Cassie. She knocked on the door, running out of time. "Lola?" she called. It was hard not to feel like a bitch, practically begging to be allowed to do something she'd forbidden. "Yes?" "Um... I really need a wee," Cassie said, "I'm sorry to ask this, but-" Lola cut her off before she could finish talking. "Yes, come in! Silly girl. You don't have to ask". "Oh, thank you!" Cassie sighed, pulling the door open. She made a point not to look at Lola's soapy, wet, naked figure in the shower. It was strictly a task borne of necessity, so as she pulled her pyjama shorts down and took a seat, she made sure it was clear that her eyes were averted. The toilet seat, she realised, was damp and warm. That happened after one of them took a shower- there was no real way for the girl under the tap to stop the water from simply splashing off of her body and onto the seat. Right now Cassie was far too in need to care. A powerful stream was hissing out of her pussy and into the bowl in no time, audible even over the sounds of the shower. Cassie could see a wet patch in the crotch of her shorts around her shins. Maybe it was splash back from the shower... but Carrie suspected otherwise. She could easily have leaked without noticing. She could deal with that later- for now she leant her elbows on her thighs, closed her eyes and enjoyed the sheer relief of emptying her bladder in the nick of time. "Wow, you must have really needed to go!" Lola laughed, washing her armpits with a soaped-up sponge. Then her voice changed. "Ay, I'm sorry, Cassie... I shouldn't have said anything. I know you don't like me talking about these things". In truth, Cassie hadn't even paid any attention to the comment. The relief had left her in such a good mood that she'd forgotten to feel embarrassed about what she was doing. "Don't be sorry," she said, "I shouldn't have walked in on you like this". "You know I don't mind," Lola said. "I just want you to be comfortable". The longest pee of Cassie's life came to an end after more than a minute. She'd just woken up, but already her body felt exhausted from the ordeal. She managed to wipe herself dry without any incident, checking each piece of paper before she dropped it into the toilet. When it was only a wee, she didn't usually bother- except she was expecting her period soon and wanted to check for blood. Cassie had long since gotten used to inspecting the toilet paper whenever she pooped, and in these few days every month. It made her life a lot easier. She caught sight of Lola's body in the bathroom mirror. Cassie only looked for a second before tearing her gaze away, but accidental or not, it was the first time she'd seen Lola naked. She had uneven breasts and those stretch marks on her belly, but she was still far more of a physical specimen than Cassie would ever be, as far as she was concerned. It wasn't like Lola would mind Cassie looking, but still she felt guilty. She looked away and hurried out of the room to let Lola finish up in the shower. Cassie felt a tonne lighter. Cassie had a lot to think about while she picked out some clothes ready for the Friday ahead of her. She'd been so adamant that she and Lola keep their bodies to themselves, but maybe Lola had the right idea after all. If they were going to share a bathroom, moments like this morning were inevitable. And perhaps it was better that, when those moments came, the two girls were a little more comfortable with each other than Cassie's normal friendships. For one thing, she was sure that she'd have wet her pants if Lola hadn't let her in today. A few minutes later, Lola emerged from the bathroom with an immaculately white fluffy towel wrapped tightly around her from the armpits down. She made the small step into the main bedroom and gave Cassie a warm smile. A week ago Lola would have made some sort of comment about the situation, but now she kept quiet, acting as if nothing unusual was going on. As much as Cassie appreciated how considerate Lola had been for the last week, and was starting to really see her as a good friend, she felt like she had been in the wrong when she asked for things to be so formal between them. She decided to clear the air while Lola was picking some clothes to take to the bathroom. "Hey, listen," she began, "I'm sorry I made things so awkward lately. I think you were right. We should be able to share the bathroom, you know... in case of emergencies". Lola smiled. "Cassie, it's okay. I'm getting used to it now, don't worry". "No- I mean it," Cassie said honestly, "I think your way is better. Like you said, it's not a big deal. We should go back to how you used to do things. With your sisters, like you said". At this Lola broke into a grin. "Really? You mean it?" "Yeah," Cassie was unable to resist smiling back, "if that's okay with you". "Of course!" Lola said, "but... let me know if you change your mind, okay?" "I will". Lola picked up the bundle of clothes she'd selected from her closet and started carrying them towards the bathroom. Cassie had another thought. "Oh, and you don't need to keep getting changed in the bathroom. I, uh, kind of saw everything there was to see when you were in the shower back there". With a laugh, Lola dumped the clothes back on the bed. "You're sure?" "Yeah, of course. Except..." Cassie was growing bolder now. "Only if I can, too. I don't want to keep changing in the bathroom either. It's really cramped in there". Lola smiled. "That's fine with me". She dropped her towel, inhibitions gone again, and exposed her naked body. Cassie found she didn't mind this time. Lola started pulling her clothes on, picking up the towel again every now and then to dry off her armpits, butt crack and the gaps between her thighs and her pussy. Cassie picked up a towel of her own and headed into the bathroom for her own morning shower. As she scrubbed herself clean, it felt like she'd made major progress in her friendship with her new roommate. She still wasn't totally comfortable using the bathroom in front of Lola- but she'd done it today, and it hadn't been too bad. With a little more time, Cassie was starting to think she might be able to leave her shyness behind for good. ———————————————————————————————————————————— Cassie got back from the first day of the new week desperate to take a dump. She'd been holding it in most of the day, preferring to wait until she got home rather than go in one of the university's busy public bathrooms, and for the last few minutes of the walk back she'd started to seriously doubt whether she could even make it back in time. But made it she had, and she found the dorm door left on the latch too. It wasn't unusual for Lola to leave it like that- and on days like this, when she had to go badly, Cassie was grateful for things like that that could save her a few seconds. She slipped into the room and heard right away that her roommate was in the shower. This wasn't a problem anymore; since her desperate pee last week it had become commonplace for one of the pair to use the loo while the other showered, especially in the mornings. So she walked carefully to the bathroom door, relaxing in the knowledge that she wasn't going to mess herself. It had been a seriously close call. Next time she wouldn't go for the spicy option in the cafeteria. When Cassie opened the bathroom door, though, she was completely unprepared for what she saw. Lola was in the shower, but she was facing away from Cassie, leaning on the back wall with her right hand. Her left hand was doing something very different. Lola's body was stooped over, back and knees bent, as if the only thing keeping her upright was those fingers on the slippery tiled wall. Lola was masturbating, Cassie realised with a start. She was touching herself down there and, by the looks of it, she was going both hard and fast. Soaked hair hung over Lola's lowered head. Her arm was a blur beneath the flowing water, the side of her right boob clear as day to Cassie, with a nipple erect enough to cut steel protruding out of the tip. And she was moaning. Moaning, in a voice that made it very plain that whatever she was doing between her legs felt very good indeed. Without a word, Cassie retreated, suppressing a shocked smile. The last thing she'd expected was to walk in on her hot Spanish roommate having a wank, but she wasn't in a position to judge. Cassie herself had found it hard, too, suddenly living with another woman. In her room at home (though she'd never admit it) Cassie would bring herself off a few times a week. It was the perfect way to relieve tension and get some time to herself. Since moving in with Lola, that had stopped, and Cassie was starting to miss it badly. Apparently Lola was missing her self-pleasure too. Cassie resolved not to bring it up to Lola. She didn't want to humiliate her friend. Instead, she sat on the bed, sure that she could hold in her poop for a while longer- at least until Lola was finished. ——————————— The next afternoon- Tuesday- was a free one for Cassie, so she spent it lounging on her bed in the dorm, surfing the internet on her phone. Some of the kids in her Anthropology class had gone out for drinks that day after lunch, to celebrate the free time. Cassie had politely declined her invitation and then spent most of the day wondering if she should regret saying no. The thought of getting drunk still made her nervous, but she wanted to make more friends. She was still pondering the question when Lola walked through the door with flushed cheeks. From where Cassie was sitting, nothing looked amiss about her roommate's appearance. Then Lola turned to drop her keys by the door, revealing a huge bulge in the seat of her jeans. Lola always wore tight-fitting trousers that hugged the curve of her bum perfectly, so Cassie noticed the lump right away. It stuck out like a sore thumb on a body where the only other protrusions were the tits (one big, the other slightly bigger). At first Cassie couldn't believe it, but there was no doubting what she was looking at: Lola had done a poo in her pants. "Uh- Lola-" she stammered, taken by surprise by the sudden turn of events. "Yes, I had a little accident," Lola confessed, talking as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "I needed to go number two in class, but the lines were too long. So I tried to make it home. I couldn't get here in time". Her voice sounded totally unfazed, like she wasn't at all bothered by what had happened. Judging by the size of the bulge, it was a real Lola-sized poop, too- and Cassie knew from experience exactly how massive those could be. "Aw, I'm sorry," Cassie said, trying to sound sympathetic, "do you feel okay?" Lola shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. She went to her bed and drew her phone out of her pocket. "I wanted to call an Uber to get me home quickly, but my estúpido phone died in class". Lola sat down on the bed, then lay down on her side, grabbing the phone charger to plug in. She set up her body in a position where her messy pants weren't touching the bed, but still looked more than comfortable there as her phone faded back into life. Cassie had been surprised to see her hot roommate walk in the room with a turd in her pants, but now... now she could barely believe what she was witnessing. "Aren't you gonna get changed?" Cassie asked, incredulous. "In a minute," Lola said patiently. "I need to check my messages". "Lola," Cassie said slowly, trying to spell it out, "you've pooped your pants. Shouldn't you get out of them?" "Why?" Lola put on that expression of bemusement again. "I've already had the accident. It's done. There's no point rushing around to clean up when the damage has already been done". Though her argument almost made sense, in a way, Cassie was still lost for words as she watched her roommate casually checking her phone with a bulge the size of a small hill in the seat of her jeans. "Aren't you upset or anything? I mean, you just shit yourself. You're nineteen and you shit yourself. Isn't that kind of a big deal?" "Big deal?" Lola shook her head. "Why? It's just an accident. I have them sometimes. Well, maybe more than sometimes. But every woman has those days where she just doesn't quite make it, every now and then". Cassie genuinely didn't know what Lola was alluring to. "I don't". That made Lola look up from her phone. "You don't?" "Nope". "Never?" "Never". Dropping her charging phone back on the bed, Lola looked right into Cassie's eyes distrustfully. "I don't believe you," she said, "you've never had an accident?" "No," Cassie said honestly. She didn't see what was wrong with that- surely most women of her age had never had one. At least not since they became a woman, whether that was aged thirteen, sixteen or eighteen. It just wasn't a common thing, for a lady to soil herself. "Really?" Cassie could tell that Lola didn't believe her. "Not even a little one?" "Not even a little one," she thought. Only a leak or two, at best, in truth. But they didn't count, surely? "That's impressive," said Lola. "I've lost count of how many accidents I've had". Cassie didn't know what to say to that. Perhaps she just had better bladder and bowel control than most women? She'd certainly never thought about it before. And yet here was some living proof that at least one woman Cassie knew was more than a little accident-prone. Lola had shit herself badly- not only that, but she didn't seem too fussed by it at all. The smell was really starting to become a problem by the time Lola eventually finished checking social media and got back up off of her bed. By then the whole room smelt of poo, and Cassie had learned to stop breathing through her nose. Just before she vanished into the bathroom, Lola gave her one last twirl to show off the titanic bulge in her jeans. Cassie could rarely even make a load that big, let alone in her underwear. She smiled, remembering how grossed out the sight would have made her just a few days ago. It was crazy how much more comfortable these two had grown around each other over the weekend. Lola disappeared then to start the long and presumably messy process of cleaning herself up. Cassie heard a zipper, a button being undone, and then the jeans being unfurled until they were around Lola's ankles. She opted to make conversation. "So, you doing anything tonight?" she asked, sitting up in bed a little. "Yes," Lola said abruptly, "I'm going to a house party on Braemar. You should come!" Despite herself, and despite the personality she'd had for the first nineteen years of her life, Cassie was intrigued. "What kind of party?" "One with boys," said Lola simply. "I went there a few weeks ago, it was fun. The music is loud and everyone is drunk. The police don't come because nobody on the street complains, because they're all having parties of their own. You should come," she said again. A big part of Cassie was almost tempted to say yes. She had never been to a house party before and wanted to see what they were like. Still, there was one big problem holding her back. It would be easier to tell Lola now, rather than have her think that Cassie was just antisocial. "It's just... I want to go to these parties, but I've never been drunk before, and I've never taken any drugs. I don't know what kind of effect they'd have on me, and I really don't want to find out when I'm in the middle of a house with people I've never met". Lola thought about this for a second. "You should try it here first," she suggested. "You and me, we can get drunk together, in this room. Then you'll get used to the alcohol". "That does sound like a good idea," Cassie said, brightening up, "just so I know what to expect. But what about... d-r-u-g-s?" she pronounced it that way, each letter individually. Even talking about taking illegal substances felt so naughty, so.. alien. "You can try those, too," Lola said in a casual voice, "if you want. Or I can demonstrate for you". "I don't know the first thing about where to buy drugs," Cassie admitted. Lola laughed from the bathroom. "Who said anything about you buying? I'll get them". "Are you sure?" "It's no problem. Just tell me what you want, and I'll get you some samples". Cassie thought this over again. "And when would we..." "This Saturday? I'm free," Lola offered. "I can get hold of some bits and pieces before then". Cassie heard the toilet flush. "Then yes, please," she said, suddenly aware of how absurdly posh she must sound considering she was practically ordering illegal drugs off of her new roommate. "That would be great". "Then it's a deal," Lola said. "I really need to get some action tonight," she said, "I haven't had sex in a month. I feel like I'm going to explode". You don't need to tell me that, Cassie thought. She could still vividly remember the sight she'd gotten when she had walked in on Lola wanking in the shower. Lola hadn't known that Cassie had seen, but judging by how quickly she got out of the shower after she heard Cassie turn the TV on, there was no way Lola had had the time to finish, either. Cassie wondered if Lola had tried again since then. "Ay, I'm going to need a shower," Lola finally admitted, "I'll be out in a second. Don't forget what I said about this weekend!" Cassie heard the shower start, and already found herself thinking about Lola's offer. It seemed like the perfect chance to try some of the things she'd never tried before, and with someone she trusted, too. The only question was how her body would respond. She picked up her phone, opened an Incognito window and started researching drugs on Google. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Later that night, after Lola had long since left for her party, Cassie found herself alone in the dorm. The invitation to the party tonight had remained extended, but in the end she'd decided to wait until after her weekend of experimentation before she made any decisions about which social events she would and wouldn't go to. And besides, Cassie had another reason for staying in: she was horny as anything, and needed the alone time so she could get some relief. It was like her whole body just wanted her to start rubbing herself until all of the stress and built-up tension melted away. So, with Lola not gone long, Cassie started peeling off clothes and leaving them on a heap on the wooden floorboards. She slid between the bedsheets fully naked. The air was cool enough to make her nipples hard and warm enough to be comfortable. Under the cover of her duvet, Cassie reached between her legs and started to play with herself. Right away she remembered how much she'd missed this since moving in with Lola. As much as she liked the Spanish girl, her presence made Cassie far too self-conscious to relieve her horniness, which could be problematic. It quickly started to feel wonderful again, her pussy turning wet in less than a minute. Though she'd never admit it, Cassie usually needed to cum at least three or four times a week to keep herself sane. Not being able to pleasure herself for weeks had taken a toll, and pretty soon she was vocalising that satisfaction with moans and gasps. She stroked her lips and rubbed circles over her clit, and meanwhile her free hand played with the left boob, massaging and pinching it. Cassie had missed masturbation more than she'd ever expected herself to. And just as she was starting to get close to a big finish, the fire alarm went off. Cassie groaned. She wasn't willing to give up just yet, not when she'd waited so long for an orgasm. As the bell droned on loudly, she sped up the movements of her fingers, rubbing even harder on the clitoris and trying to think of some of her naughtiest fantasies. There was still hope that she could come if she was quick. Buried underneath the alarm, the sound of fingers on wet pussy was unmistakable, and she hoped to make it lead somewhere. But a knock on Cassie's door put an abrupt end to that plan. She could have sworn out loud then, such was her frustration. Knowing that an orgasm couldn't have been more than a few seconds away, she swung her legs out of bed and stood, still completely butt naked. Cassie called to the knocker that she was on the way and started looking for something to throw on. Pyjamas would have to do, even though it was bound to be cold outside. If this was like most fire drills, they wouldn't be outside for too long. Cassie left the room locked, wishing she'd started touching herself just thirty seconds earlier. ————————————————————————————————————————— Cassie was still horny by the time the fire drill ended twenty minutes later, but the mood had very much been ruined. After shivering in the dark for a while, she was finally cleared to return to her room, where she she climbed into bed and turned the TV on. She wasn't tired enough to sleep, so Cassie flicked through some of the channels, looking for people she recognised. The screen was now the only source of light left in the room, and it gave off the same vibe as a hotel suite in the early hours of the morning. The sudden sound of the door unlocking made Cassie jump. For a brief moment, it became a rectangle of light, filled only with the silhouette of a tall, long-haired girl. Then the figure stepped into the room and the door shut behind her, leaving Cassie with just the shape of Lola in the room with her. A dark outline staggered around her own bed and towards the centre of the room. "Hey," Cassie said quietly, offering a smile. "Dios mio, I have to pee so bad," Lola whispered back. Her voice made it clear that she was very, very drunk. She walked unstably towards the bathroom and undid her jeans, sitting quickly on the toilet. As her stream started up, Cassie asked a question. "So, did you get any action? "No," Lola complained, "I'm so horny. The whole night I was making out with this cute guy, then he leaves just as things are getting good. My body thought I was gonna get laid, then I have to walk home empty handed. If I don't come soon, I think my body might implode". Cassie had to admit that she was feeling just as turned on, while her roommate finished peeing and wiped herself off. She'd considered going for attempt number two at making herself finish that night, but the fire alarm had destroyed the initial buzz and left Cassie tempted to wait for another opportunity to make sure she could get it right on the first attempt. Lola rose drunkenly from the toilet and returned to her bed, where she sat down on the side and kicked off her boots. Then off came her jeans, her top, her bra... and her underwear. That was no surprise to Cassie, who'd seen Lola naked plenty of times now. But was she imagining it, or did the woman's pussy have a certain gleam to it, as if it was wet? "I'm sorry, Cassie, but I need to cum," Lola announced as she slipped into bed. "I'll try and be quiet". The words threw Cassie off. As horny as she'd grown the last few days, she would never have expected Lola to be talking so openly about masturbation like this. Apparently, Cassie had found the limits of her newfound confidence. She'd only just gotten accustomed to Lola pooping with the door open, so having the woman wank off in the same room as her was bound to be a big step for Cassie. She had no idea what to say. So she just meekly said, "it's okay," and let Lola carry on. Even through Lola's duvet, Cassie could soon hear the beginnings of Lola's session. It first came as a weak squishing sound- the sound of wet pussy lips being rubbed together, a sound Cassie knew well (though she'd never admit it). Cassie turned off the TV, and the only thing she could still hear was that noise of Lola rubbing herself. Then came the moan. It was low, guttural, almost animalistic- and totally uncharacteristic of Lola, a woman who was usually all about looking good and partying hard. Cassie suspected that this was the real Lola. If she was honest, the sound of it was turning her on hard. "Ooh, I won't take much longer," Lola said suddenly, "I'll finish soon, then I'll be quiet, I promise". For her part, Cassie didn't understand how it was even possible for Lola to cum so quickly. She didn't know any other women who could go in less than five or ten minutes, as far as she'd asked. But Lola's voice quickly built to a crescendo, and there was no mistaking the moment that she came, with a huge, exaggerated sigh. When Lola was done, silence fell across the room. Cassie wondered if her roommate was feeling the same regret as she herself sometimes did after a wank. It wasn't out of the question. Soon enough, it sounded like the drunk woman had gone to sleep. But Cassie couldn't drift off; she was too aroused. Her fingers crept to her pussy and started to rub around down there. The same squelching noise was back, and she couldn't help letting out a quiet moan of her own. "Cassie," came Lola's soft voice, stabbing Cassie in the heart like a knife, "are you...?" Cassie didn't answer for a very long time. She'd been caught. And the only thing left she could think to say was "yes". "Why didn't you say something? It's okay to... do that... when you need to, you know". "It is?" "Of course! I just did. Felt amazing, by the way". That much was a good point. Too horny to worry about decency, now, Cassie picked up the pace of her self-love. She was determined that she'd finish just as big as Lola. At that, at least, they could be equal. ——————————————————————— The weekend was drawing closer, and Cassie- though she didn't want to admit it out loud- couldn't think about much else. A mixture of nervous energy and excitement was buzzing around her brain as she wondered what Lola might have in store for her that Saturday night. Part of her still thought she might get cold feet and back out of it, though she still felt determined to try new things and become more of a party person. But all of that could wait. For tonight, Thursday, Cassie found herself sitting in her room with Lola, watching a movie on TV. The film itself wasn't bad, even if Cassie had seen it before. It was Lola's first time, and Cassie still got enjoyment from watching the Spanish girl's reactions to every little twist and joke. Lola had learned English by watching movies, so she was used to piecing together the subtext from the prequels she hadn't seen either. They were both sat up at the back of their respective beds, Cassie drinking Coke, Lola sipping wine. There hadn't been a night where Lola hadn't poured herself any booze, as far as Cassie could remember. She didn't know how her roommate did it. Then again, it wasn't without its side effects. About halfway through the movie, Lola wriggled her legs exaggeratedly and crossed them over each other. "Ah, I really have to pee," she complained, squeezing her crotch once for good measure. "Not long left," lied Cassie. "How long?" "Maybe twenty minutes?" this was certainly not true, but she didn't want to have to pause the movie- her remote didn't work, so the only way to pause would be to get up and walk over to the TV screen itself. "Twenty minutes? Okay, I try and hold," Lola said. For a while she sat still again and did her best to focus on the movie, but it must have been a little too much for her to bare, because ten minutes later she swung her legs off the side of the bed and sat up on the edge. Cassie assumed that Lola was getting up to use the bathroom, and prepared to go and pause the film... but instead, her roommate unbuttoned her jeans, lifted herself off the seat for a few seconds and shimmied them down to her knees. To Cassie's surprise, she didn't seem to be wearing any underwear. What happened next left Cassie speechless. Without taking her eyes off the climax of the film, Lola grabbed an empty water bottle from the side of her bed, unscrewed the lid and positioned it between her legs. She must have done this before, because she didn't even need to look to know exactly where to place the opening of the bottle against her hair-covered pussy. Then, with an audible sigh of relief, Lola started peeing full-force into the thing. Cassie didn't want to stare, so she only got a glimpse of what was happening out of the corner of her eye, but she could hear it perfectly. She'd never urinated in a plastic bottle before. It sounded exactly like she would have expected it to, like it was being filled up from a tap- except instead of a tap it was a vagina and instead of water it was hot, golden pee. Cassie had no idea how to react. She supposed the best thing to do would be pretending she hadn't noticed- but would Lola mind? It wasn't like she was a shy woman. On top of that, Cassie could feel her own bladder starting to fill up. She'd first noticed not long into the movie, but it was nothing urgent- she could still hold it a while longer. She found herself wondering what it would feel like if she followed Lola's lead. There was even an empty water bottle on her own bedside table. Would Lola say anything? And could she bring herself to do something so unladylike when there was a bathroom just a few metres from her? She wasn't sure. Perhaps if she was desperate... but right now she barely needed to go... Lola seemed to have finished peeing, because she was now carefully lifting the bottle upright and screwing the cap back on. It was practically full to the brim with yellow fluid. When she was done, Lola left it back on her bedside table where she'd found it- only now the bottle was a hundred times heavier and probably not good to drink from. Without a word, she kicked off her jeans and lay back down on the bed, naked from the waist down. Cassie could only guess that pee was dribbling down her lips and onto the duvet. The whole time, Lola hadn't taken her eyes off of the movie. Once the credits started rolling, Lola carried the bottle to the toilet and emptied it out, before rinsing it in the sink. "Twenty minutes, you liar," she teased when she returned, "you're lucky I had the bottle. If I pissed on the bed, I'd have been sleeping in yours tonight". ————————————————————— Cassie shut off the water when she heard the front door open. She stood there for a moment, naked, warm, letting droplets drip from the tips of her fingers, her hair, her lips, and rain down onto the tiles. Towel wrapped around her, she emerged from the bathroom just as Lola was unpacking a bag of shopping. She'd sent the tall girl to the local off-license with a pile of ten pound notes and hopped in the shower to get ready for their night. Now Lola was opening a bag of cubed ice and storing it in their tiny freezer. Cassie's eyes almost popped out like a cartoon character when she saw how much booze Lola had retrieved. "You bought all that with fifty pounds?" "I bought it with sixty," Lola corrected, "your fifty and ten from me". "And what about..." the word felt unnatural on Cassie's tongue, "you know... drugs?" Lola smirked. "That's where my other forty went," she said, "I picked up some bits and pieces last night. But those are for later, not now. If you don't get too drunk". "I will not get too drunk," Cassie said indignantly, "wait, will I?" "Drinking with me? It's likely". Lola got two of her own glasses out of her cupboard. In each she dropped two cubes of ice, which clinked into the cups with a satisfying sound. "What do you like to drink, Cassie?" Cassie frowned. "I don't know," she realised, "what have you got?" Lola went through the four bottles one by one, lifting them up to present to Cassie. "This is vodka, then gin, pink gin, and this one-" she held up a squat, green bottle "-is really sour, you're meant to drink shots of it". " "Do we even have shot glasses?" "I do," Lola said coyly. Cassie felt no closer to knowing what she wanted to drink, so she instructed Lola to pour two glasses of whatever she was having while she towelled off her legs. By the time she'd pulled on a t-shirt and pair of jeans with knickers, Lola was setting down a glass on Cassie's bedside table and one on her own. It was clearly Coke, but what Lola had mixed it with was anyone's guess. Cassie picked up the drink and sniffed, then sipped. She thought it was vodka, but she hadn't garnered enough experience in the spirit department to be sure. Lola's first taste was more of a gulp than a sip. She was in charge of the music, too, flicking through her phone and connecting it to a Bluetooth speaker that sat by the bed. Soon enough it felt pretty close in their crappy little dorm to what Cassie imagined real parties were like- except in a room no bigger than a boxing ring and with only two attendees, one of whom had never gotten drunk before. "So what do we do now?" Cassie asked. "We play games, and we drink, and we put on music," said Lola, "until we pass out early tomorrow morning". That still sounded more than a little daunting to Cassie, but she was excited to get a taste of the life she'd been missing out on. They drank together for an hour or so, with Lola introducing Cassie to a few drinking games that got them both through the alcohol like it was lemonade. Some of their drinks literally were lemonade, but Cassie had never mixed hers with gin before. The pink stuff was surprisingly good, and Lola laughed at the way Cassie's face contorted the first time she tried a shot of Apple Sourz. Soon enough Cassie was sure that she was starting to feel drunk. This wasn't like the other night, when cocktails had made her no more than a little sleepy. The combination of lights, music and constant conversation was making her chattier than usual, quicker to laugh and thirstier. She was starting to see why most other students loved booze. Lola wasn't anywhere near as tipsy yet; she explained that her tolerance was far higher after years of getting her body used to alcohol. But they were still having fun, and it was still early. "I'm hungry," Lola announced at one point, "do we order food?" Ordinarily Cassie didn't like shelling out for takeaways, but with a bit of gin in her it suddenly sounded like a great idea. "Fuck yeah," she said, "you pick what we're having". Lola ordered from McDonalds and they went back to playing a game of Never Have I Ever. It felt like Cassie learned more about her new roommate in that hour than she had in the previous few weeks. She found out that Lola lost her virginity at seventeen, that she spoke a third language (French) and that she had never ridden a bike. One of the more prominent side effects of the alcohol was that Cassie found herself needing to pee more than usual. By the time the food arrived and had been promptly eaten up, she had to get up for her third bathroom visit of the evening. "Sorry, gotta go again," she told Lola. Standing up really made the booze hit her. "Ay, don't worry about it. It's normal to need to pee a lot when you're drinking. I'll go after you're done". But Cassie was enjoying the night more than she'd ever expected, and the gin-fuelled confidence inspired her to do something she'd never done before in her life: she left the door open while she peed. It must not have seemed like a big deal to Lola, who barely gave her a second look, but to Cassie it felt like a major step. "So, what about these drugs you mentioned?" Cassie asked while she emptied her bladder. She'd been thinking about whether she wanted to dabble in drugs so soon after her introduction to alcohol, but eventually decided that she wanted the full college experience, even if that meant trying something illegal. Not wanting to seem pushy, she hadn't asked Lola about them since the start of the night. But this time Lola seemed more than happy to talk about what she'd bought from her dealer the night before. She reached into the drawer of her bedside table and took out a little see-through bag with a red seal. In the dim lighting, Cassie couldn't see what was inside it straight away. When she got off the toilet and approached, though, she saw two little blue pills. Cassie took the bag gently off of Lola, holding it close to her eyes. The pills were each branded with a big 'S' that reminded her somewhat of the Skype logo. "What are these?" "Ecstasy, mostly," Lola said, as if she was talking about the most normal thing in the world, "maybe a few other things in there too- cocaine, speed..." "Is that safe?" asked Cassie. Lola nodded. "Safe enough, as long as you don't take too many," she said, "but you are only taking half. It's your first time". "And what do they do?" "They make you talkative, and peaceful. They make you want to touch things and look at lights and listen to music. It's like it lifts your senses up," Lola said wistfully. "As long as you don't take too many," she repeated. Cassie thought it over. It didn't sound so bad- a pill that would make her feel peaceful. It certainly seemed better than some of the other drugs she'd heard about, the ones they warned kids against at school that made people crazy and dangerous. In truth, it didn't take her nearly as long to decide she was in as she'd have thought. After examining the blue pills for a few seconds, she handed them back to Lola. "I'm in," she said, "you've done this before?" "More times than I can count," Lola confirmed. A question struck Cassie. "How do you take these? I always thought people snorted this kind of stuff". "You can crush it up and snort it, if you want," Lola said with a shrug, "but it will tear your delicate nose up. It's better to just swallow, with a drink. Don't let it stay in your mouth for long," she advised, "the taste is terrible. Watch this". Lola opened up the bag with painted fingernails and extracted one of the pills. Without missing a beat, she popped it in her mouth, picked up her glass and took a swig. From this close Cassie could see the woman's throat moving as she swallowed. And then the pill was gone. "See? Easy". It looked easy, that was true. So Cassie held her hand flat out in front of Lola and let the girl pour the other pill onto her palm. She wanted to take it before she had time to overthink things and back out, as she so often had before. Despite Lola's advice, Cassie did detect some of the awful taste in the second between putting the pill on her tongue and washing it down with her gin and lemonade, watered down with melting ice. "Fuck, it really does taste bad," she said, "how long until that hits us?" Lola was looking at her with wide eyes. "Cassie... I said you only take half!" Cassie gulped. She'd forgotten about that. "Will I be okay?" "Yes, yes," Lola said quickly, sensing fear in her voice, "you will be fine. It just might be a little intense, though. For a first time". "Okay, that's good," Cassie sighed, "as long as I'm not gonna die or anything". "No way". Lola flicked her hair out of her face again and took another sip. "That should hit us later". "How much later?" "Anywhere between half an hour and one and a half," Lola admitted, "usually, for me, is about forty-five minutes". That didn't seem so bad a wait. "And are there any, you know, side effects I should know about?" Lola thought about it for a moment. "Your jaw might start clenching, your eyes will twitch a little, so don't worry about it. Oh, and it's going to make you have to poop". "It is?" Cassie was suddenly a little alarmed. "Yes, later. You'll get this sudden urge and then you'll go to the bathroom and do a really big poop. But it's okay, it won't be painful or anything". "But what do you do if you're in a club, or- or a rave, or something? What if there's a queue for the bathroom?" "You have to try and hold it," said Lola with a shrug. "Sometimes people don't make it". "Have you ever... not..." "Once," admitted Lola, "I was at a festival and I'd taken two of these pills. I got really desperate to poop and I couldn't hold it. I had to walk back to the tent with a big lump in my panties!" Lola seemed to find that story hilarious now, but all Cassie could think was that it was a really good thing the bathroom was so close this evening. If she'd known that the pills would make her need to take a dump, it might have made her think twice about taking one so readily. She was starting to regret at least not snapping hers in half like Lola had ordered. Still, it was too late now. So she pushed it to the back of her mind as they carried on their drinking games, and soon her worries had vanished and she was laughing and smiling again. Only after the games had resumed did Lola realise that she'd had to pee back when Cassie had last went. She jumped up off the bed, took down her jeans and panties early and waddled like a duck to the bathroom. Cassie couldn't help bursting out laughing at the sight of it. "Don't laugh, I really have to go!" said Lola, holding her bare pussy. But underneath her exasperated tone, Cassie could tell that she was trying not to laugh, too. ———————————————————————— True to Lola's word, Cassie started feeling the effects of the pill around three quarters of an hour after taking them. She didn't even realise at first that it was kicking in, but it all started when she noticed that her speech had sped up. It was like listening to a YouTube video on 1.25x speed, which Cassie used to do to fit in more study when she was watching explanations before a big test. After that she couldn't stop picking up on other side effects- her eyes did feel twitchy, now, and her teeth had started grinding together gently. When she'd felt enough to be sure that she was getting high, Cassie asked Lola if the experience was mutual. "Yes, I'm coming up," Lola said, grinning, "are you?" "I'm pretty sure I am!" Cassie was beaming, too- she couldn't help it. "I love seeing my friends on their first high!" Lola exclaimed, "it's so much fun. Are you getting the- the jaw thing?" Cassie nodded. "And the lights, look at the lights". "The lights are off!" Lola fumbled with her phone for a moment and suddenly she was shining the bright flashlight at Cassie. It blew her away- somehow the light seemed twice as intense as usual. "And what are you feeling?" "The same as you," Lola said, "but not as much, yet, because I have a higher tolerance than you". "I never really thought about that," said Cassie, "does it really work that way?" Lola nodded and explained to Cassie that the side effects tended to get less pronounced the more a drug was taken, as the individual body got more and more used to a substance. Lola still got plenty high when she took these pills, she said, but it was never quite as intense as before. "Does that mean you won't have to shit, either? Is that only for first-timers?" "Oh, no, I always have to poop when I take drugs". Lola took the last swig of her glass, got up and crossed the room to get a refill. "I'll have to go soon. The last time I got high I almost pooped my pants on the way home. It was really desperate, Cassie". She poured herself the strongest drink yet- it seemed to be almost half vodka and half lemonade. Lola had to tread carefully when she bought it back to her bed, in case it overflowed and split. "Well, I don't have to go at all yet," Cassie remarked. She'd started to wonder about that in the last few minutes- it had been a while since they'd swallowed the pills, and still she didn't have to use the bathroom at all. Was it possible that she was somehow immune to that side effect?" "You will," Lola promised, "just wait and see. The need will hit you very suddenly and it will be very strong. It always happens when you're on the MD". "MD?" "That's what we took. Ecstasy is just a street name". Lola reached over to the edge of her bed and pulled out a half-full suitcase from underneath. Cassie didn't ask what she was doing- she just watched her roommate rummage through the suitcase until she came away clutching something round and clear. "I forgot I even had this!" she said, holding it up triumphantly. "This is perfect for tonight. Let me show you". Cassie had no idea what she was looking at- until Lola plugged it in. Suddenly the whole room lit up in different colours, red and blue and green and purple, all spinning across the walls. It was a disco light, the kind you got at nightclubs- at least, Cassie assumed you did. It turned out that the light had been a stroke of genius from Lola. The drugs had made light into a whole new world of sensory stimuli for Cassie, so she sat back on her bed and just watched the walls dance while Lola's music played in the background. Every colour felt alive, every beat felt meaningful. She'd never felt anything like this before. It was nothing like she'd expected drugs to be, and yet it was somehow simultaneously everything she'd expected drugs to be. The two of them carried on that way for a while longer, drinking and talking and enjoying the night. Cassie found herself in the middle of conversations more intimate than she'd ever had with anyone before- she didn't know how it happened, but suddenly she'd be telling Lola about her deepest insecurities, or about something bad she did ten years ago that she wished she could take back. Lola would nod and listen carefully, then give her opinion, or sometimes come over to Cassie's bed to give her a hug. In those moments Cassie felt closer than she'd felt to another human being since her childhood, before she grew distant from her parents. It was mesmerising. The only trouble was that her mind couldn't focus on one thing for very long, and soon another bizarre thought cropped up that forced Cassie to change topic altogether. "Uh, I haven't had to pee in ages," she said to Lola, "is that normal?" "Ay, it's normal," Lola said, "I haven't had to either. The drugs, they slow down your bladder. Later, you'll have to take the biggest piss of your life. It's going to feel so good!" On the subject of needing the bathroom, the sudden urge to poop that Lola had foretold picked that moment to make itself known all at once. And it was just as strong as Cassie had been warned, a wave that hit her stomach and told her brain she needed to get her trousers down and get on the toilet in double time. Cassie wasn't used to sudden urges. Her body was more likely to slowly build up a need over time until it was too desperate to ignore. The only feeling she knew that compared to this one was food poisoning. But she was listening to Lola telling a deeply personal story about her history with a guy she'd known in school, and Cassie had no intention of spoiling that by getting up to use the bathroom. She didn't want to offend Lola- and besides, she didn't want to leave the conversation, even for a few minutes. This was like no talk she'd ever had before and it was making her reconsider a lot of her perspectives. Suddenly all barriers were down; the two of them could say anything to each other with no fear or judgement or retribution. Cassie tried to readjust her position on the bed, hoping that it could be a way to make holding it in just a little easier. She brought up her heel, leg bent beneath the torso, and tucked it into the crack of her butt. That did only a little to ease the pressure, but it was better than nothing. She still had to squirm and wriggle in place to stop her bum from relaxing enough to let the heavy mess inside of her out. This was a very different kind of need from the one she'd felt that day Lola had walked in on her pooping, after their first week. Eventually Cassie's bowels won out over her mind, and she was forced to accept that a trip to the loo would be necessary. She felt bad when she cut off Lola in mid-sentence. "I'm sorry, Lola, but if I don't get to the toilet right now I think I'm gonna poo myself". That was no exaggeration, either. To her relief, Lola didn't mind being interrupted at all- on the contrary, she burst out laughing. "Go! Don't poop your pants. How long have you been holding it in?" "Too long," muttered Cassie as she stepped into the bathroom. This time, she didn't even have to think about leaving the door wide open- it came naturally. She pulled down her jeans and underwear and took a seat on the toilet, "Silly girl," tutted Lola, "hurry up, I think I need to do my poop now too". Cassie could feel a huge dump brewing inside her and fancied the idea of taking her time with it, but not if it meant making Lola uncomfortable. That was one thing she missed about having her own bathroom- being able to spend an hour pooping if she wanted to. From the early signs, this particular poop was going to be one of the biggest she'd produced in a long time. Though Cassie had always had something of a penchant for big loads, which she'd worked hard to keep private from as many people as possible, they were usually ones that came as the result of holding for a long time, or constipated poops that she had to really work to get out. This one was already stretching out her tight little hole, and she didn't even need to push at all. It felt so good she almost wanted to moan. Lola stood up and a pained expression hit her pretty face out of the blue. Red light swam across her features. "Forget what I just said. I definitely do need to poop, and right now". Her left hand reached behind her lower half. Cassie couldn't see from this angle, but she could make a good guess that her roommate was squeezing that toned butt of hers. It appeared that Lola's need to shit had come on even faster and stronger than Cassie's sudden urge. But there was only so much Cassie could do about it. She was grounded to the toilet by the colossal log that was now snaking out of her bum in a loose, doughy mess. It stretched so long that one tip had slid into the water soundlessly before the other end even left Cassie's butt. Poor Lola looked on the verge of an accident already. "Ay, please, hurry up," she pleaded, "I don't care if I do the poop in my pants, but I don't want to have to get changed". Wanting to help her friend, Cassie bore down and pushed just a little. A second log quickly followed with a splash, and she felt empty again. The only strange part was the sensation of defecating without any pee coming out. Cassie couldn't remember ever doing that before. She had an idea. "I'll stand up to wipe, so you can get on the toilet," she said hurriedly, leaving the bathroom and stepping back into the disco lighting of the main dorm. Lola did a loud fart as she rushed gratefully past, and soon she was the one sitting on the toilet and groaning in relief as her bowels evacuated noisily into the bowl. She really had been seconds away from filling her underwear, Cassie saw. "It's weird," said Lola while she took a dump. "What is?" Cassie was tearing off some toilet paper and trying to figure out how to wipe a particularly messy butt standing up. For the most part she was succeeding- but she was still falling some way short of the high standards she usually held herself to. "When we met you were too shy to let me see you on the toilet. Now we're shitting our guts out in front of each other and we don't even care". Cassie laughed. "That's true," she conceded, "but the drugs are definitely helping me there. I feel like I have no inhibitions". Lola's poop was even faster than Cassie's had been, and the Spanish girl was already giving her own arse a rough, rushed wipe when Cassie had to ask her to part her legs so she could throw some of the soiled toilet paper into the bowl. Her drunken throwing skills weren't great and she almost hit her friends coarse, black pubic hairs with a piece of scrunched up, damp, brown loo roll. Luckily that crisis was averted. Cassie wanted to ask Lola why she didn't shave her crotch, but the question hadn't come up yet. With an enormous poo now gone from each belly, both girls felt twice as high when they got back onto their beds and resumed the games. Cassie was having one of the best nights of her life- at least, now that her bowels felt empty again. ———————————————————————————— "Cassie, come here," said Lola, patting the section of bed next to her and grinning. Her pupils were the size of moons, Cassie noticed. They looked almost inhuman. There had been a time when Cassie would have found this a little disturbing, but right now she thought it was one of the coolest things she'd ever seen. She crossed from her bed to Lola's and sat beside her new friend. In Lola's left hand she held a very different little bag to the one they'd taken pills from earlier. In this one was a crushed-up white substance, which Lola was dipping a wetted finger into. She kept bringing the finger out and rubbing the white stuff onto her gums, smiling like a loon all the while. When Cassie came over, she got the same treatment. Lola didn't ask Cassie to rub it onto her own gums- she literally put her finger in Cassie's mouth and started moving it around. The taste was awful, but Cassie couldn't care less. She'd gone to places tonight that she'd never thought herself capable of and she wasn't ready for it to end yet. If there was anything that could help her chase that high she'd felt, she wanted it, and lots of it. So she let Lola rub the foul substance in her mouth and never once asked what it was. Whatever she'd just taken, it seemed to kick in after about ten minutes, and suddenly it was like the two of them had hit a second wave. All of the energy flooded back into their conversations and their bodies. Lola turned up her music. She'd switched at some point to some sort of drum and bass. Cassie had never treated the genre with anything less than the upmost contempt before, but for some reason, in that moment it sounded great to her untrained ears. They stayed on Lola's bed for a while, Cassie having no desire to get back to her own. It seemed that the Spanish girl had been telling the truth about the drugs making you want to touch other people. There was nothing sexual in it, but Cassie suddenly felt incredible hugging Lola, stroking her hair, being close to her. It felt so out of character for her... and yet so good. But from Lola's bed Cassie could see the toilet through the crack in the bathroom door, and that reminded her of something. "Tell me more about this piss thing," Cassie demanded, "how does it work again?" She didn't know why she was saying piss instead of pee, or wee, like usual. The drugs were giving her a potty mouth, apparently. Cassie had said just about every bad word she knew that night- usually as if it was nothing. Now her main curiosity was what would happen when the drugs finally wore off enough to let her bladder muscles pee again. Lola sat up a little straighter and went over the science again. Cassie had no idea if any of it was biologically accurate, but it sounded about right. "At the moment, your body isn't doing the things it normally does to tell you that you have to pee," Lola said, "the drugs are stopping that. But you're still drinking and your bladder, it's getting more and more full. Eventually that will all have to come out. It will be desperate. If we were out on the street when that happened, we would have to pee on the street. That's just how it works". "I've never been to the loo on the street," Cassie admitted. "Really?" Lola shook her head. "I'll have to show you". "In the meantime, it doesn't matter when we have to pee here, because we're here," pointed out Cassie. "We can just use the bathroom. It's five steps away from this bed". Lola shrugged. "True". She finished another strong drink, took Cassie's and finished that too before heading over to the kitchen to pour some more. Cassie guessed that she'd comfortably had more booze tonight than the rest of her life combined. Once she got back with two full glasses, Cassie had another question for Lola. “Aren’t drugs supposed to make you… you know… in the mood?” “The mood?” “The mood, you know, for sex and… stuff”. Lola frowned. “What, like horny?” Cassie nodded. Lola thought about it for a second. “Some drugs do”. “Does this one?” “Eh, not really. It makes you want to touch and to cuddle and maybe that can lead to the sex, but it’s not for that. There are drugs that can make you as randy as a rabbit, though. I’ve had a few”. That interested Cassie. "Really? What are they like?" "You really want to know?" Lola said, leaning in with a glint in her eyes. "Yes". "Well," Lola took a sip, enjoying dragging it out, "after a while you get very... wet. Then you start to want to touch yourself, and if you can resist you can go out and pick up a guy and do him for hours. You don't get tired. You just want to try everything". A part of Cassie's brain she hadn't known even existed thought that this sounded like a hell of a lot of fun. She made a note of that. "I'd like to try some of those," she said with a dry throat. "I have some". Cassie's eyes widened- she could have sworn she felt her nipples go hard. "Can I...?" "Ay, not tonight," Lola said, "they would be wasted here. We'll save them for next week, I'll take you clubbing, and hopefully you'll go home with a boy". "What about you?" "Hopefully I'll go home with someone, too," Lola said with a wink. "A boy?" She mused over this while she popped a piece of gum in her mouth. "Eh. Boy, girl, anything else. I don't care". Cassie didn't push the matter any further, mainly because the last round of whatever they were rubbing on their gums seemed to be kicking in, but her mind kept. coming back to these sex drugs. Coming to Uni, sex was one of the things she had secretly wanted to try out a few times, even if it was better to pretend it didn't matter to her. These pills Lola had described would be a perfect way to loosen herself up- literally. She assumed that she would stop thinking they were such a good idea once she'd sobered up a little. The next few hours flew by faster than Cassie could have believed. The two girls kept drinking, kept listening to music and watching the lights and sitting closer to each other than was probably normal. At one point Lola managed to connect their tiny TV to Netflix, and put on a film that neither of them ended up paying attention to, mainly because they never troubled to turn down the tunes from the phone. The room grew so hot that tops were doing nothing but basking them both in sweat, so they ended up sitting in just jeans and a bra each. Eventually the chewing gum was all out and so was the white powder in the bag. Cassie was struck by a strange kind of sadness when she first saw the sun start to come up. It signified the end of one of the best nights she'd ever had. She didn't know where the last few hours of the party had gone to, but the realisation that she was experiencing her first ever comedown wasn't a fun one. The only silver lining was that she still had so much more to explore in this world, now she'd had a taste. "Ay, dios mio," Lola gasped out of nowhere. "What's up?" "Remember when I said we would have to pee soon? Well, I need to fucking pee". Cassie looked up and saw that it was true. Lola had gone from chilling out on the bed to standing beside it with both hands in her crotch in just a few seconds. But the mention of pee had a bizarre effect: suddenly Cassie had to go, too, and it was all at once as desperate as she'd been for a long time. "Fuck! Me too. Good thing we're right by the toilet, yeah?" Lola laughed. "Yes, lucky me". Something came to Cassie then that she'd thought a few times that night, but never said out loud until now. "I wish I could be more like you," she told Lola". "What do you mean?" "When we first met I thought it was kind of weird how you could just pee with the door open, or pee in the shower, or poo yourself and not even care. But now I wish I could do that too. I think... it would be easier. If I wasn't so uptight about those things". "Well..." Lola began, tossing half of her hair over her left shoulder to get it out of her eyes again, "I could teach you". Cassie blinked. "You could?" "Yes, of course," she said, "why not? I learned to do it, you can too". "I guess that's true," said Cassie. She was fidgeting badly now. "Sure, okay, I'll do it. But can we please hurry up? I'm bursting". "Okay, me too. Alright," Lola waved an arm to indicate that Cassie should go into the bathroom first, "we'll start small. Have you ever been in a sink b "No, but there's a first time for everything". Cassie, almost completely uninhibited by this point, unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down around her thighs. Her underwear quickly followed, properly exposing her hairless pussy in front of Lola for the first time. If Lola was paying any attention to her roommate's slit, though, she certainly didn't give herself away. She just laughed as Cassie waddled towards the bathroom sink and lined herself up to let rip. But one big problem quickly became obvious. "Shit, I'm way too short," she hissed, "fuck, I'm gonna have to use the toilet or I'll piss all over the floor". "Wait!" Lola came up behind Cassie, wrapped surprisingly strong arms around the shorter girl's waist and lifted her up. She only went a few inches off the ground, but that was all it took. Suddenly Cassie's bladder gave out and she started pissing full-force into what had previously been a pristine white bathroom sink. A string of swear words came out of Cassie's mouth, relief overwhelming her. Even over the music she could hear the pee tinkling against the porcelain so clearly that it was almost musical in itself. Cassie had never urinated standing up before. She wasn't prepared for the way her pee sprayed in every direction, some completely missing the sink altogether. "Hurry up, Cassie, I'm desperate," Lola moaned, readjusting her grip. But just as Lola had warned, Cassie was nowhere near done yet. She must have had a bladder far fuller than ever before. "I'm trying! There's so much!" Cassie bore down for a second, hoping to speed up her stream. The problem was that she still had some shit left in her colon, which almost slipped out of her and into her underwear at precisely the wrong time. Even dry, the denim against Cassie's bare, slightly hairy butt felt odd. But there were few words to properly describe the sensation of them suddenly turning from bone dry to soaking wet in an instant. Lola wasn't simply wetting herself- she was flooding her pants, exploding all in one instant. "Ah, okay, no rush," Lola said after a while. She was still lifting Cassie, to her credit, but all semblance of bladder control was completely absent from both women now. They lulled into a peaceful silence and both finished pissing: Cassie into the sink, happily watching her pee gurgle down the drain and disappear, and Lola in her jeans. She seemed completely unfazed by the fact that she'd just wet herself only a few feet from the toilet- which Cassie supposed made sense given the Spanish girl's history with accidents. When Lola eventually put Carrie back down, after the latter had run her reserve dry, Cassie's feet landed in a warm puddle on the bathroom floor. A glance around told her that Lola had flooded the whole place, and it was slowly flowing towards the drain in the middle of the room. "Okay, that felt good," Lola admitted, "but you're going to have to pee a lot in the next day or so. And poop too. It's just your body trying to get back to normal, so don't worry, yeah?" Cassie nodded, though she felt a bit concerned. "How much is a lot?" Lola thought about it for a second. "Every half an hour or so you might need to pee, I think. And poop, I don't know, maybe three or four times tomorrow?" "That doesn't sound so bad". Cassie got a good look at Lola, who was completely drenched from the waist down. She could no longer remember what shade of blue that denim was supposed to be. The Spanish girl took one look at the shower and sighed. "I really should shower, just to get the pee off my legs," she said, "but what is it you say in England? I can't be fucked?" Cassie laughed. "That's the one," she said. Her butt was damp and sticky from Lola's accident, too. "I can't be fucked to shower either. Should we just go to bed?" "That sounds perfect," Lola agreed. They headed back into the room, where Lola promptly started to strip naked. It caught Cassie by surprise at first- Lola's tits were bouncing once the bra was off, and both nipples stood proud and erect. It hit her then that she'd never seen another human being completely naked before, except ones she was related to. But then, when Cassie thought about it, it didn't seem so weird after all. Lola had just seen Cassie's pussy, Cassie had already seen Lola's, and they'd spent the last few hours with nothing on but bras and jeans. This wasn't much more of a step. So Cassie decided to follow Lola's lead. She didn't have the same confidence in her body that Lola had, but today it didn't seem to matter much at all. Today it was just nice to feel close to someone. She left all of her clothes in a pile next to Lola's and climbed, naked and damp from sweat and piss, into bed. The last thing she remembered from her night of drugs and booze was Lola pushing out a giant fart, making Cassie laugh before she quickly fell asleep. —————————————————————————————— Cassie woke up in the middle of a dream she couldn't remember. The room was silent; only muffled traffic from outside soundtracked the morning. It was bright in the room- as bright as could be with the blinds pulled shut, and still light enough that Cassie could see around the place well. The first thing she felt was what she assumed was the hangover she'd heard about. Her head ached, her belly hurt, her legs were sore. She'd woken up with the flu before and felt better. It wasn't her favourite part of the weekend so far, to put it mildly. Only bits and pieces of the night before still floated around in her memory. She could remember everything before they'd started drinking but only patches from after. The taste of the powder was still on her gums, but she couldn't picture actually rubbing it there. It felt like she'd been watching a movie and only half paying attention, missing huge parts at a time and being left to piece together the rest of the story. She was like a detective, trying to figure out how she'd ended up naked in bed. She certainly didn't remember taking her clothes off. Was she fully naked? Cassie moved her hands from her chest and felt her crotch, just to make sure she hadn't got underwear on. She found her pussy soaking wet. Her fingers recoiled, shocked at the cold, damp impact. When she forced herself to feel again, it only confirmed the first report: not only was she wet, her whole bed was soaked. Around her bum, lower back and thighs, a dark wet patch spread out across the sheet, turning cream into deep beige. Everything between her hips and her knees seemed to be covered in cold, sticky fluid. She peeked at her hand, thinking it was maybe possible that she'd just had a very heavy period, and swore when the fingers came away colourless. There was only one logical explanation for it. Cassie couldn't believe it at first, but the only thing that made any sense was that she had wet the bed. She could feel her face flushing with shame. Cassie simply wasn't a person who had accidents. She'd known throughout her night with Lola that it was possible she would have some close calls, and she remembered almost losing control before finding relief in the sink, but waking up sober in the cold light of day to find that she'd wet the bed was something else entirely. Cassie groaned. She didn't feel like getting up at all, ideally not for a long time, and yet she knew that she had to clean up the mess she'd made. She could smell it, too, stale but undeniably pee. Just as Cassie was about to get up, throw on some pyjamas and carry her bedsheets to the laundry room, she heard a noise coming from Lola's bed. She turned to check it out- from her pillow she could get a good view of Lola, without lifting her head, thankfully. It took Cassie a while to figure out what she was hearing. Lola was clearly asleep, but the noise was coming from her. She wasn't sleep-talking, or moaning as if she was having a sex dream. Then Cassie put her finger on it- her roommate was grunting. Not grunting like an animal, or like Cassie's dad often did when he was pissed off. These were sounds that Cassie had heard Lola make before, starting with their very first meeting. This was the noise Lola made when she was pushing out a poop. It took Cassie completely by surprise to realise that her friend was shitting the bed. She wondered if she should wake Lola up, but before she could act the grunting stopped and the unmistakable earthy scent filled the room. It was too late. And Cassie figured that if Lola had already had an accident, there wasn't much point in interrupting her sleep yet. Hell, all Cassie wanted to do was to roll over and go back to sleep herself. But first she needed to change her bedsheets. And before that there was an even more pressing matter to consider: she had to pee again, and badly. Lola hadn't been kidding when she'd warned that drugs and booze would lead to a lot of toilet visits the next day. Cassie climbed out of bed, suddenly more self-conscious about her nakedness again. She was grateful that Lola was asleep, because Cassie's need to urinate was too strong to allow her time to pull any clothes on before she rushed to the loo and sat down. She started to piss almost straight away, hunched over with her elbows resting on her thighs. Hair hung over her face and her belly, which wasn't exactly going to get any smaller on the back of last night, was sticking out, shielding most of her privates from view. Cassie closed her eyes in the hopes it would calm her head a little. She peed for half a minute and then started wiping. For good measure, she tried one sheet of paper across her butthole. It came away a little brown. When she'd flushed, Cassie stood up on shaky feet again and took a look at herself in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight, even as someone who didn't much care for her appearance. When she re-entered the bedroom, trying to gear herself up for the unenviable task of stripping the bed and getting them in the wash without being seen, Cassie was surprised to see Lola awake. Lola looked remarkably pretty even in this state, but it was still easily the most dishevelled Cassie had ever seen her roommate. She had wide, sleepy eyes with purple bags underneath, and her hair was a mess, sticking out in no logical way. Lola sat up in bed, her top half completely exposed- her breasts seemed less perky and heavier, for some reason, and her nipples had lost all the stiffness of last night. She was stifling a yawn when she saw Cassie. "Good morning," she said, "what time is it?" "I don't know," Cassie admitted. "Late. Probably nearly midday by now, or worse". Lola rubbed her eyes, then tilted her head. She seemed to be staring at Cassie's pussy, which made her only slightly less uncomfortable than it would have a few days ago. "Cassie, why are your legs all wet?" she asked. Cassie froze. She tried to think of a plausible lie, but when one didn't come up she decided not to bother trying to hide it from Lola. After what they'd shared the night before, it wasn't like they had a reason to still be shy with one another. "Well," she confessed, "I kind of... wet the bed last night". Lola's reaction wasn't at all what Cassie would have expected. She shrugged, waved a lazy hand in front of her in dismissal and said, "ah, no big deal. I wet mine too. And I pooped in it, too". She seemed remarkably calm for a woman who had just ruined her sheets. Cassie clearly didn't have the same experience in soiling herself that Lola boasted, but she would still have expected a little more urgency, or some embarrassment. She didn't think she'd ever meet a woman whose response to waking up wet would be to shrug it off, but then she'd never met anyone like Lola before. "Well, I did think you were... you know... pooing, in the bed. It was only a few minutes ago, and you were," she paused, "well, you were grunting, and I thought you were pushing it out in your sleep. Sorry if you'd rather I woke you up, I thought it was better to let you sleep". "No, you did the right thing. I don't respond very well to being woken up when I've had a late night," Lola said with a laugh, "and I don't know what would happen if you woke me up while I was pooping in the bed. It probably wouldn't have been fun". Even for Lola, it was strange to hear someone talking about this so casually. Cassie had to ask why. "How come you don't seem bothered about this?" she said, sitting down on the edge of her bed, being very careful not to touch any of the wet, cold patch she'd left while she slept. "I was nowhere near as calm as you when I woke up and found out I'd... you know". "I'm not bothered by it because it happens all the time," Lola said, "when I get really drunk or really high, usually, I wet the bed that night. A lot of the time I poop too. It's normal". "Is it?" Cassie asked dubiously. "Of course. I know I'm not the only one. Loads of my friends say the same thing. We used to have drunk sleepovers and sometimes all of us would wake up in wet beds. Really, Cassie, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to a lot of girls". That was brand new information to Cassie. She'd heard of women having instances of nocturnal incontinence when they were under the influence of a lot of alcohol, but for it to happen on the regular to the same woman? Even to a whole group of friends? That didn't line up with what she'd been told before. And they hadn't even been that drunk last night, not when compared to how sloshed she knew Lola could get when she wanted to. "So, are you gonna get up and change your sheets?" she asked. Lola didn't even think about it for a second. "No". Cassie frowned. "Why not?" "I don't feel like getting up," she explained, "I'm tired and I'm comfy and I'm hungover. This way is so much more convenient". "Convenient how?" "Because next time I have to use the bathroom, I can just do it here. I don't have to get up. It's easy". This was the most shocking bit of news yet to Cassie. It was one thing to have an accident while asleep, but to then voluntarily soil yourself again, just because you didn't want to get out of bed? She'd never have thought that of anyone, not even of Lola. "I don't know, Lola," she said, "that seems kind of extreme. Even for you". "Oh, come on, it's no big deal," Lola said, "look- I still have to pee a little". She paused for a moment, then looked up at Cassie and flashed a cheeky smile. "And I just did it!" "Seriously? Right now?" Lola nodded enthusiastically. "So quick and easy! And I didn't have to move a muscle," she said, "it feels kind of good, too, to be honest". For her part, Cassie couldn't imagine peeing her bed on purpose ever feeling good. She'd matured too much in the last few weeks to feel disgusted by Lola's unconventional bathroom habits anymore, but this seemed like a step too far. So she stood up and turned back to her own bed, ready to strip off the sheets and put on fresh ones so that she could go back to sleep. Cassie must have stood up a little too fast, though, because her head started to spin once she was on her feet. Her belly cramped again, more painfully than before. For a long moment she was sure she was going to be sick. Then the wave passed, but Cassie was still left feeling terrible. Lola took one look at the discomfort on Cassie's face and sighed. "Cassie, come on," she said, "you're hungover. You need to get back into bed and sleep it off. The cold of the pee isn't so bad once you get used to it". That all sounded sorely tempting to Cassie, but she knew she had to protest. "No, I can't go back to sleep. I'll need the loo again soon, I have to be up..." "So what if you have to use the bathroom? The sheets are ruined already. If you go in your sleep, you go in your sleep. If you have to go when you wake up, you can do that too, or just go in your bed like I did". When she put it like that, it was hard for Cassie to find a reason to argue. So she stopped resisting. With a resigned groan, her naked body climbed back into bed and pulled the duvet back up over her. Lola had been right about one thing: the cold of her piss did stop feeling bad after a while, and it was far nicer being in here than out there. Exhaustion reclaimed Cassie and she quickly fell asleep again. ——————————————————— Not for the first time since moving in, Cassie was woken up by a serious pain in her bladder. She had to piss badly, and already her legs were crossing tightly in an effort to help her hold it in. Already the desperation was almost as bad as it had been the night before, just before she'd emptied her bladder into the sink. She still remembered how strange her bare bum had felt being held against Lola's denim crotch. Now this was nearly as urgent, except she wasn't going to go in the sink. She tried to push herself up on one elbow, hoping to make it to the toilet... and then had another idea. As strange as what Lola had said about going in the bed had been, it seemed to make plenty of sense to Cassie now. After all, the sheets really were already in need of a serious wash. What harm could a little more mess do? So she spread her legs a little and gave the pee permission to come out. Even then, it took a little while, as her body resisted the urge. It was ironic to her that her brain had had no problems accidentally soaking the entire bed while she'd been asleep the night before, and now it seemed unable to produce even a tiny dribble. But with a little pushing and a little patience, Cassie felt something she'd never felt before in her life- a squirt of fresh pee dripping out of her pussy, down her labia and onto her own bed. This was going to take some getting used to, thought Cassie as she began picking up speed in the flow, but already she was starting to see why Lola liked it so much. ——————————————————————————————————————— Cassie would never have guessed that she would spend so little of her first few months at university studying, but rooming with Lola had given her a different perspective on life. Now things weren't just about good grades; she would always look forward to going out at the weekends (or sometimes weekdays, if the prices were good), and those nights where she got to hang out with her roommate and just enjoy herself. But she hadn't completely lost the old Cassie, so on the evening before Halloween she was sitting cross-legged on her bed, flicking through a textbook and trying to memorise the details. Assessments were in six weeks. She didn't fancy failing them. The only distraction was that she was starting to really need a piss. Ordinarily Cassie would have simply gotten up and headed to the bathroom not six feet away from her bed, but Lola was getting ready for a party in there. And, as much as peeing in front of each other had long since shed the taboo, Cassie still reserved it for emergencies or when she was drunk. Besides, she still had a few pages of the chapter to finish, and she was determined to get through them before she sought out relief. She couldn't stand taking breaks from studying just to use the bathroom. When Lola stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel but dripping from head to foot, Cassie couldn't help but feel jealous as usual. The Spaniard was a gorgeous woman- maybe not perfect, but still beautiful. She was a far cry from Cassie's podgier form and uneven boobs. Cassie crossed her legs, aware that she was going to have to get up and pee soon whether she finished the chapter or not. One of her eyes watched Lola getting dressed. She didn't blink when Lola dropped her towel. Cassie had seen it all before, and it wasn't like she was attracted to her flatmate anyway. But then she went to her underwear draw and picked out something that Cassie certainly hadn't seen before: a black g-string that seemed to have barely enough fabric to cover any woman's crotch, let alone Lola's, which had always stuck out awkwardly. When she pulled it on, Cassie saw that the material was close to see-through. "Wow". "What?" "Where did you get that? I've never seen it before," Cassie said. Lola beamed. "I save it for special occasions. Nights when I want to look cute". "Ah". Cassie knew that her roommate had been looking forward to tonight all week. There was a guy at the party she was into, with some Spanish name Cassie had forgotten. Lola couldn't stop talking about it- and not because she thought he was boyfriend material. To put it mildly, Lola had been going through a dry patch. Her exact words had been 'I think my virginity is going to grow back', which Cassie doubted. It was just that Lola, apparently, was a very sexual being, and she hadn't been coping well with suddenly finding herself unable to find a partner. "I swear, I'll explode if I don't find someone tonight. I haven't been this long without sex in years". Cassie raised an eyebrow. "How long has it been?" "Three weeks," said Lola nonchalantly, "which is two weeks too long. He'd better be up for it tonight. I really need it". Though she wouldn't say it out loud, Lola's horniness was even starting to rub off on Cassie. She'd been thinking about coming along to one of these parties soon and seeing who she could pick up herself. There was one to mark Halloween tomorrow, and Cassie didn't want to go out tonight or she'd run out of money for the month before the big night. Lola didn't seem to have that issue. She said that she didn't usually pay for her own drinks. "Okay, remember to take a crap before you leave," said Cassie once her friend was dressed, "we don't want a repeat of last time". The last time Lola had gone out without Cassie had been a disaster. The girl had shit her pants and come back hours early to get changed, clearly drunk, slurring that she would put on some fresh underwear and go back to the party and then promptly passing out on her bed fully dressed. But Lola just smirked. "I don't need to take a crap," she informed Cassie, "I'm not a baby. Thank you for your concern, though". She finished checking her make-up in the mirror, slung a scarf over her shoulder and went out into the hall. Cassie went back to studying- it was only a few more pages before she could finally get up and pee. She squeezed her thighs together a little tighter and kept reading. ——————————————————————————————————— It had long since been dark and cold outside by the time Lola finally returned to the dorm, but that was still several hours earlier than she'd told Cassie to expect. The heater in their room was turned on, but it only had two settings: off and furnace. A few hours after Cassie had given into the chill and flicked on their radiator, the place was like an oven, and Cassie was already starting to sweat. By now the sounds of cars honking outside had grown less frequent and eventually died out, just the way she liked it. Cassie was in the middle of a greatly needed wank when her roommate got home. She liked to take her time to get warmed up, so while they both still sometimes got themselves off while the other person was in the room, Cassie liked to wait until she had the place to herself before she got started. The conditions were exactly the way she wanted them- silent, in an empty room, with nothing but the sound of the covers rustling and her own deep breathing to indicate that anything was alive in there at all. With the duvet down around her waist to keep her boobs somewhat cool, Cassie was finally getting closer to the glorious moment she'd been waiting for most of the week. Her fingers moved around her pussy in frantic circles, pressing harder and harder on the clit. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, jaw clenched- And then the sound of a key in the lock cut stopped her in her tracks. She grabbed her sheet and yanked it back over her chest, orgasm all but forgotten. Seconds later a rectangle of light was flooding in from the hall and Lola walked in, very clearly drunk. It took Cassie all of five seconds to piece together exactly what happened, just as soon as Lola turned around enough to make the bulge in the back of her pants clearly visible. "Lola," she whispered, and her roommate jumped just as suddenly as Cassie had when she'd heard herself being walked in on. "Hi," Lola said sheepishly, "I got bored at the party". Cassie knew that Lola wasn't ashamed of shitting in her pants- she was just too stubborn to admit that Cassie had been right when she'd advised her friend to use the bathroom before leaving. "Lola, I can see the bulge in your bum," Cassie said, stifling a yawn. Lola huffed. "Fine, I pooped in my pants". She kicked off her shoes and crossed the room, and soon the bathroom light whirred into life over Cassie's shoulder. "Why didn't you go when I told you to?" "Because I didn't need to go then!" Cassie heard the zipper of Lola's dress coming undone, then fabric falling to a firm floor. "I only got desperate after we started the drinking, and there was a queue for the bathroom. Oh, and when it happened, I was just about to get this guy to take me up to his room. So I'm still as horny as a horny toad". That gave Cassie a little more sympathy. She sat up in bed again, this time letting the blankets fall away and expose her boobs. The left had always been a little bigger, but with Lola she'd stopped worrying about them too much. Her roommate was standing in the bathroom in a G-string packed with poop, trying to carefully peel it off her legs. As free as Lola had always been with her bodily functions, the woman had her limits, and apparently letting her shit smear down her legs was one of them. She stood with one leg on either side of the toilet, gradually lowering the waistband until she finally managed to upturn the gusset and dump her dump into the toilet bowl. The splash was so loud that Cassie wouldn't have been surprised if some water had gotten into the Spanish girl's bush. Then she wiped with toilet paper, complaining to herself about how it was too late to shower. It took a long time before Lola was clean enough to be satisfied. Cassie watched all this without saying a word. She said goodnight to Cassie and climbed back into bed, and Cassie lay down to get to sleep too. Her crotch was still soaking. She tried to revive the wank silently, but the spark had died out. So she faced the wall, as she always did at night, and listened to the two women breathing, waiting for sleep to take her. A long time passed in which nothing happened and nobody moved. Then, just as she thought she was finally drifting off, Lola said, "I'm sorry, Cassie, but I need to cum. This tension is too much. I can't sleep". Cassie was surprised it had taken so long. "Knock yourself out," she said with a yawn, knowing that her friend hadn't really been asking for permission. She knew how powerful Lola's sex drive could get. When she really, really had to finish, she would do it. One night Lola had brought herself off in the bathroom of a pub, and then told Cassie the details with a grin later. Soon Cassie could hear an unmistakable squelching, which she recognised well by now as the sound of Lola's labia rubbing together when she was really wet. Cassie never made that much noise- smaller lips, she supposed. Seconds later she heard Lola tossing the duvet out of the way. It landed on the floor with a noise just like the dress earlier, and the towel on the carpet before that. There was one other way in which the two were polar opposites: Lola liked to moan while she touched herself. She moaned loudly. Cassie had never been vocal in pleasure, save for the odd squeak or whimper if something felt really good. But when Lola was having fun in the bedroom, she made sure that everyone in hearing range knew about it. Masturbation was, with a few exceptions, the only time that Cassie ever heard her roommate speak Spanish. More specifically, she swore in Spanish. Cassie knew they were swear words because Lola had taught her one night, to explain exactly what she was screaming when she came. Lola struck a high, long note, and Cassie knew that the moment had arrived. She knew that the people next door would assume someone was getting laid hard in their room. When she'd finished, Cassie was left alone with just panting coming from the other bed. Soon it became deep breathing. Then it was silence. Then it was snoring. Cassie got out of bed, turned off the heater and draped Lola's duvet over the sleeping girl again. She knew there was a good chance that Lola would wet the bed. She hadn't gone to the toilet before she fell asleep, which usually meant a soaked sheet in the morning. But Cassie didn't mind. She had other things to think about. Like how, with Lola fast asleep, she could get the relief she wanted- and be as loud as she pleased.
  22. Another commission from the mind of @ed2! PM me if you'd like anything for yourself. --------------------- It was still early in the morning, but the sun was out and the crops were motionless on Golden Creek Farm as the farmer's daughter made her morning rounds. She would take the same route every morning, right after sunrise- you could set your watch by it and some of the locals did. Driving the family's old tractor from the farmhouse in a loop around the property took the better part of half an hour, taking her to the backs of the fields, over a stream and then back again. Her job was to check that the fences remained secure. The farmer's daughter was a girl of twenty-two, and every bit the farm girl her parents had expected her to become. She came out this morning with scraggly blonde hair pushed back and tamed by a straw hat, in denim overalls and a cotton white t-shirt marked with dirt from the previous day's work. She had a pretty face, but there was plenty of grime beneath those fingernails, and plenty of experience behind naive blue eyes. Someone had once told her she hadn't had much to work with in the chest department. She'd replied that God had given her the brains and the other girl the titties. As she rumbled along the perimeter, Katie's bladder twinged uncomfortably. She hadn't been for her morning piss yet, and she always needed her morning piss within an hour of waking up. That morning, Katie hadn't so much as visited the toilet beside the room where she slept. Most people would assume that Katie was forgetful, or scatterbrained, but her neglect of the bathroom was a design choice. Katie had never liked using toilets. They seemed a waste of time to her- especially when man was intended to do his or her business in nature. She much preferred nature. There were no petty rules or waiting times. So Katie didn't hesitate to park the tractor- if you could call 'turning the engine off' parking- and climb down onto the field. Here she was in one of her favourite spots to pee in the morning, beneath a tall old oak tree that overhung the fence. Southern Montana didn't get a lot of rain, and Katie liked to joke that she watered this patch of grass more than nature itself got around to. A public footpath ran parallel to the fence, but this morning there was nobody walking past. That seemed a shame to Katie. Getting herself undressed before a piss was easier said than done when Katie was in an outfit like this. She popped the buttons on the straps of her overalls, threaded her arms through them and peeled them down until they were out of the way. Then she pulled on pink cotton panties just enough to expose her buttocks to the fresh air, just the way she liked it. Even beneath such a bright sun, there was enough chill in the atmosphere to feel good in exactly the right kinds of ways. Just for a little while, Katie squatted there and waited for the flow to start naturally. She never liked to push, whether she had to go number one or number two. It was better to wait until she had to go, and then let her body do its thing. So she squatted on legs built up over the years to be good at squatting, admired the outdoors and waited. A little breeze blew on her pussy lips. It felt like getting a cool kiss down there, like being made love to by someone with an ice cube in her mouth. The trickling soon started, just as she'd known it would. Katie fought the temptation to close her eyes and let it happen. At first, hot golden liquid just dribbled out of her hole, running down her lips, some of it sitting in her vagina and resting there. It didn't take long before a stream got going. Pee arced away from her crotch and onto dry soil. She had needed to go enough to feel that sweet relief of emptying her bladder in the morning, but not enough that holding it in had become painful. That was Katie's perfect sweet spot. She looked up at that giant oak tree, knowing it wouldn't be long before the acorns started falling again, then back between her legs. Katie had always liked the sight of herself taking a leak. She loved watching it shoot out of her like she were some fountain, all golden and sometimes steaming in the cold months, and the way it formed a little puddle in the dirt on the hot days. That was happening now, and it was almost reaching the sides of her feet. She giggled, feeling the warmth run beneath bare soles. Katie didn't mind if her feet got a little wet. Katie had a bigger bladder than most would guess, by looking at her- she was a slim girl, and short, but could hold her pee for plenty longer than even most of her male friends. But that meant that the few times she had to go each day, the lakes she sometimes left on the floor were big enough to sail a paper boat on comfortably. Once she was eventually done, Katie wiped her pussy dry with the front side of her overalls. In twenty-two years she'd never found a toilet paper that dried a kitty like denim. Ironic, really. The mark on the front of the dungarees would be dried and gone by the time she got back to her farm. Her parents knew that Katie liked to use the world as her toilet, and had long since given up trying to toilet-train her, but she didn't want to upset them by reminding them. So she redressed herself and climbed back on the tractor, and soon she was gone, and the only traces that she'd ever been there were faint tyre tracks and a quickly-drying puddle on the floor beneath the old oak tree. ——————————————————————————————— Katie tapped her horse with the inside of her left leg, and he picked up the pace. They had ridden a couple of miles out of the farm, to a blackberry bush that nobody other than her seemed to know about. The sun wasn't long for the sky, and Katie wanted to get home before darkness fell. She turned the gelding down a narrow lane that cut closer to Golden Creek, and probed him to go a little faster. He was a huge thing, chocolate brown with a black mane, and Katie had ridden him out here more times than she could count. Katie wanted to speed up because she had to use the bathroom. Her bladder had been full for most of the afternoon, but she'd ignored it, caught up in the world around her. Eventually, though, the need to pee had returned with a vengeance. She'd slung the bag of blackberries over her shoulder and climbed back on the gelding, looking forward to getting back to the stables so that she could get some relief. But needing to pee alone wasn't reason enough to worry Katie. There was something else pressing her, and it had to do with a completely different bodily function- she needed to poop. For most of her life, Katie had been a once-a-day pooper, regular as clockwork. The urge would come on in the late afternoon and by evening she'd be desperate to go, if she hadn't already emptied her bowels. First she'd get gassy, then her belly would start to rumble beneath her shirt, and eventually Katie would need to clench her butt closed just to ensure that she didn't shit in her breeches. Today was no different, and she rode home starting to wonder if she'd make it back to the stables in time. For now, though, the need to pee was worse than the need to poop. Katie had neglected her bladder while she was harvesting, and now that negligence was catching up with her. That rarely posed a problem for Katie. She'd been on hundreds of long rides in her young life, often for hours at a time, and it wasn't always practical to disembark and find somewhere to tie up the horse while she squatted and pissed. Luckily, she'd found a solution. By now her body was used to simply peeing on horseback, and Poncho didn't seem to mind. There was one very easy step when Katie had to relieve herself while riding: she simply had to let go. As soon as her body relaxed, she felt better instantly. It was like she was releasing all of the pressure and stress that had built up in her bladder, giving her waters permission to return to the earth below. At first nothing happened. Then, slowly, Katie felt the crotch of her panties blossoming warm and wet. The moisture bloomed and seeped through cotton, into her deep blue jodhpurs. These were a carefully picked garment, selected because the colour was dark enough that no stain would show if she were to run into her parents. The leaking became a dribble, making Katie break out into a smile. Warmth spread across her thighs. Before she knew it, pee was cascading down either side of the gelding's back, simply too much to be contained by her clothes. It ran down past each knee and soaked her ankles, hot and comforting. Katie glanced over her shoulder and saw little black dots on the soil behind her where her piss was raining down on the ground. She still had plenty left inside her to go. When Katie felt empty at last, those wet stains behind her stretched back much farther than she could see. It felt as though she'd been peeing for a quarter mile. Poncho trotted on, completely unaware of what his rider had done. Katie bore down a little and squeezed out the final few spurts for good measure; her bladder was so big that she often found a couple of extra pushes left in her by the time the natural flow had died out. They hissed into her underwear like squirts from a water pistol- albeit one filled with warm, salty water. Now the fresh air was tinged with the smell of urine, but Katie didn't feel like she'd tainted it- quite the opposite. She felt like a wild thing when she did this, like an animal leaving her scent to show where she'd been. Lukewarm pee made the jodhpurs cling comfortably to her legs, even tighter than before. Anyone walking past now would assume she'd had a little accident, and Katie was happy to let them believe that. They wouldn't understand, anyway. Still, Katie had only taken care of one of her needs. While emptying her bladder had been as pleasant as always, she still had to poop. Her bowels grumbled in discontent, demanding that she unburden them of the load that had undoubtedly been made by last night's dinner. The good news was that, by now, Katie and her horse were only a mile or so from home. It looked like she would make it. Katie didn't always make it when she had to poop on horseback, but even then she found that soiling herself was better than the risk of losing the horse, especially because it sometimes took her ten or even twenty minutes to unload a really big dump. With warm, wet panties and a colon full almost to bursting, Katie turned her horse down the final stretch of road. The farm was almost in sight. ————————————————————————————————- Katie's jodhpurs had already begun to dry off once she'd led Poncho safely into the stable. She had a grooming routine for after every ride with him, and she liked to keep it consistent. Horses, she found, responded to careful consistency above all else. If she left him in the stable and just disappeared for the night, the bond between them wouldn't stay as strong, and Katie knew they'd lose some of the mutual trust that she'd built up for years. The trouble with that was it meant she couldn't just rush off somewhere to poop as soon as she got back to the farm. Her favourite spots included the old outhouse that nobody else still used, or a little patch of grass by the fish pond behind the farmhouse. Usually, when she had to go number two, Katie would sneak off somewhere like that and take twenty minutes or so to do her business. On days like today, though, when she had tasks to complete first, she'd have to hold it in. That could get plenty distracting when she was trying to do something tricky like brushing a matted mane. Fortunately, Katie had been in this position before, and she knew what to do. The thing with a stable was that living beings pooped in it all the time. Nobody else would ever need to know if Katie happened to be among those beings. She'd gotten away with taking a crap in here more times than she cared to keep track of. So she stepped away from Poncho for a minute- he kept chewing hay, apparently unbothered- and hooked a thumb between the waistband of her jodhpurs and each cool, smooth hip. In one motion she lowered the jodhpurs and her soaked underwear until they were around her knees. Then Katie squatted down, over one of the fresher patches of hay. She waited. It was clear from the feeling inside of her body that she wasn't going to need to push. Soon enough, as expected, she felt her ring start to stretch, to slowly open up. The tip of the first log emerged. It felt firm and rounded, as was her norm. Katie smiled wide at the feeling of being penetrated from inside. She wasn't someone who made long, thick poops. Instead she crapped in pellets, little round chunks, like she was some kind of giant rabbit. That had always been how her body worked, and she'd always liked it, though she never really understood why it happened. The first lump fell out of her and landed with a soft crunch on the hay. Out came four or five more pieces, each taking a few seconds to pass through her tight butthole before falling the last few inches and hitting the floor of the stable. Later she would sweep it all up along with the horse dung and nobody would ever be any the wiser. Katie always knew naturally when she was done pooping, because she could feel the emptiness inside her. To finish up, a little dribble of pee flowed out of her, as it often did after a big shit. The liquid ran down her labia, between the folds of her pussy and through the little ridge between her vagina and her asshole, before raining down on top of the brown, steaming pile she'd deposited below. Now she felt ten times better. It was like she'd shed a tonne of weight, both from the front and back. One of these days someone would walk in on her while she pooped on the hay, but Katie wasn't too worried. It was only her body. With her jodhpurs still wet from peeing in them earlier, Katie didn't see any reason to trouble herself with a small matter such as wiping her butt. After all, no matter what she did, she'd still need to wash them tonight. So she stood up and pulled them back up, along with her underwear. The cotton was starting to get cold now as her pee cooled off, but she didn't mind- the feeling was still nice. It reminded her of the fun she'd had on the ride home. Stepping around the poop on the floor, she went back to grooming Poncho, hoping she remembered to sweep up her mess after she was done. Her dumps were bigger than most women, sure, but there was no way anyone would be mistaking it for horse shit if they saw. —————————————————————————————————— The next time Katie ventured out beyond the limits of the farm around evening's fall, she went without a horse. She didn't see the need to prepare Poncho for a ride when she only wanted to wander around and see what kind of wildlife might be in the woods. She was looking, specifically, for a deer that her daddy had spotted the day before, because he thought it might have looked injured. It had seemed okay when Katie found it, so she watched from a distance for a while before turning back and heading toward the farmhouse. The walk home couldn't be more than a half hour. Katie had set out that day in a blouse and skirt, with no underwear to warm her thighs. On hot days, she liked to go commando from time to time. It was nice to get some air up there. As she always did at this time of day, Katie had to piss and poop badly before too long. Other women would have been uncomfortable in a situation like this, wondering how they were going to get home before they had an accident. But it didn't faze Katie. She only needed to find the perfect spot to relieve herself, and she found it in the shape of a stream that ran south just outside of the farm's borders. Katie waded out into the fast-moving water, which was refreshingly cold and barely deep enough to reach her ankles. Poncho wasn't a big fan of the water like Katie, so she only got to go in the stream when she wasn't riding. As she settled in a spot in the centre of the river, standing with legs spread, she heard voices. Passers-by weren't unusual in this neck of the woods, but Katie hadn't expected to run into any today. She looked up and saw them, a man and a woman, walking in her direction. They were heading her way. Standing there, waiting for her body to start opening the channels, Katie thought it looked pretty obvious what she was doing. But the hikers must not have seen it, because they walked within twenty feet of her spot and asked her for directions. They wanted to get to a little down just a mile or so from the farm. Katie was more than happy to help, of course. She pointed a few times while she explained the best route to take, and they nodded to show that they understood. At some point while she was talking, Katie started to pee. With her legs spread, and in the absence of panties, there was nothing stopping Katie's pee from just tinkling down into the stream. The feeling of relief made her sigh audibly. She glanced down and saw that her piss was the usual colour- deep gold, like apple cider. After a few seconds she caught the hikers stealing confused glances at the bottom of her skirt, but Katie didn't care what they thought. When she had to go, she had to go. It was their fault if they couldn't handle a little pee. One form of relief seemed to facilitate another, and Katie felt her asshole opening up again. It was almost all she could do not to moan out loud when her butt was stretched out like elastic. A first, big chunk of poop tumbled out of her, and fell between her legs and into the stream with a loud splash. She felt it brush the back of her ankle when the current carried it away. Another piece came next, then another, each bigger than the last. By now the hikers looked genuinely alarmed to be conversing with a girl who was clearly not wearing underwear, not to mention pissing and shitting into a river and acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. The man looked like he was going to say something to her, but his wife was too polite, and she moved him along with a squeaky word of thanks. Katie watched them disappear into the trees, finished with her poop but still pissing like a racehorse into the water. She couldn't understand why so many people found what she did so taboo. The truth was that Katie had always loved the feeling of taking a leak into the river. She loved how free and natural it made her feel. She loved the sound of her stream tinkling into nature's stream. Above all, she loved the way the cool water around her bare feet would be tinged with warmth. It was like all the water and juice and milk that she guzzled down every day gave her the power to heat up a whole body of water, even if it was only temporary. She liked the idea that her hot piss-current would pass through a spot half a mile downstream later that day. When she was done, Katie hitched up her skirt and squatted down right there. She didn't check behind her- it seemed no big deal if any strangers were to get an inadvertent look at her butt while she cleaned up. First she scooped up some fresh water and used it to rinse the pee off of her pussy. Then, with a bare hand, she did the same with her butthole, making sure to rub any traces of poop away. She didn't need to get any on her skirt. Satisfied in more ways than one, Katie stood up again and let her skirt fall back into its natural position. She could feel cold stream water trickling down her thighs. It was far from an unpleasant feeling. When she got back to the farm, she felt as though some masturbation could be in order. In a way she hadn't expected, being caught using the woods as her bathroom had gotten her strangely excited. ———————————————————————————————————— A few days passed before Katie took Poncho out again, this time to try and track down something that was causing a blockage upstream. The river had been flowing more weakly the past few days, and she wanted to clear the plug before it did any lasting damage. It was almost getting dark by the time she'd finally located the problem and hauled it out of the way- a tree had fallen down a few miles from the farmhouse, but Katie had strong shoulders and she was able to move it alone. She was desperate to poop, trotting briskly over rough terrain with the setting sun over her shoulders. Katie had forgotten to attach Poncho's lead again, so she couldn't risk jumping off for a few minutes to poop. She loved her gelding very much, but he had a reputation for bolting, and it simply wasn't worth taking her chances. So she kept on riding, wondering if she might be better off putting a sign by the stable door to remind her to bring a rope next time. All too often she found herself in this position. She usually forgot all about it by the time the next desperate situation came along. Katie hadn't had to shit this badly in a long time, but all she could do was keep on riding. She'd pissed herself long before that, and her dark jodhpurs were already almost dry. The need to pee had come on strong; Katie hadn't bothered resisting. If she'd held it in, there was a risk that the eventual feeling of relief when she lost control would cause her bowels to open up, too. She could practically taste the salt in the air as she rode. There was another smell lingering around the horse apart from her pee, though. Katie had started to get gassy, as she always did when she had to poop. It began with a few soft poofs of air that slipped out every now and then, before quickly building up into deep, rumbling farts that vibrated hard on the horse's back. Poncho didn't seem to notice. The next step, she knew, would be for those loud farts to turn back into silent ones again. When that soon came to pass, she knew that it meant she was close to having an accident. Despite doing everything she could to hold on, Katie knew she was losing the battle. She clenched her cheeks together desperately, trying to stop her crap from simply sliding out and soiling her underwear. It was hard to squirm from the top of a horse, but Katie couldn't sit still. The hardest part was that her legs were forced wide apart, where she'd usually rely on crossing and bending them to make holding just that little bit easier. With her thighs spread, there was little to stop her colon from emptying itself of its own accord. Eventually, inevitably, that was what happened. Katie groaned, squeezed and used up the last inches of her willpower, but ten minutes from home she finally lost control. A powerful belly cramp took hold of her, vice-like and tight. She leaned forward and started to shit her pants. The first piece forced itself out and formed a bulge in the back of her jodhpurs, one she knew would be visible to anyone who came close enough. If that had been all, it would have been messy enough, but Katie's body wasn't even nearly finished yet. A second chunk swiftly followed, and for a moment Katie had to close her eyes as the sensation overwhelmed her with intensity. She gave up at last. When the third, fourth and fifth bits of poop slid out of Katie's ring, she made no more effort to stop them. After all, what was more shit going to do when she'd already filled her panties? She groaned again, the last piece proving the biggest yet. Once it was out, Katie flattened herself against the back of Poncho's neck, feeling exhausted from the exertion of messing herself, and of holding it back for so long before then. When she'd recovered her breath, Katie realised she couldn't just stay forward for the rest of the ride. She forced herself to sit up straight again, feeling her poop squish around inside her underwear. She always produced firm crap, but it wasn't nearly solid enough to hold shape when squeezed between her weight and the hard spine of a grown horse. The feeling of poop spreading against her cheeks itself was far from unlikeable, she had to admit, but she wasn't looking forward to the cleanup process. Still, she reflected as Poncho came into view of the farm again, at least she didn't have to go so urgently anymore. Now the trick would be stripping out of these dirty clothes before anyone spotted her. The last thing she needed was another lecture about the perils of holding it in.
  23. Another commission for @ed2 (PM me if you'd like anything for yourself!), enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------------- "How about here?" asked Holly. Her shoulder ached from lugging their tent bag around on it from the car park into the campsite, and she was at the point where she'd have happily set the damned thing up on a patch of quicksand if it meant getting the weight off her back. Renee looked around for a moment and nodded. They were a good twenty feet from the nearest other tent, and Holly could tell that her girlfriend was just as tired of carrying the bags. "This will do," she said, setting down a sack containing all of their supplies. The campsite they'd booked was a peaceful little spot in the Lake District, a short walk from the water. It had been the cheapest option they could find, and Renee had wanted a few days away from home. From Friday to Monday, they'd have no internet and no electricity. All there was to do was explore the countryside and be with each other. It sounded like Holly's idea of hell. But she liked to do nice things for her partner, so she'd agreed without too much complaining, and they had left early in the morning to drive up from Portsmouth. In the event, setting up their tent proved easier than Holly had dared to hope. She'd never been camping before, but Renee was experienced, and she guided the couple through the process, giggling like a kid at the suggestive image of the tentpoles poking through each hole in the fabric. Holly was left in charge of unpacking their stuff while Renee hammered pegs into the ground with a comically big mallet, explaining that the whole thing could fly away if they weren't careful. Holly privately felt that a wind strong enough to pick up the whole thing would be miraculous. When they were done, Renee straightened up and admired their handiwork. "Right," she said, "you settle in, I'm going to look around the campsite quickly". Holly watched her go, wondering why they were splitting up. Renee had always had a habit of disappearing on her own like this. Holly assumed that her girlfriend just needed some alone time every now and then. Besides, they needed to know where everything was. They'd need a freshwater tap, first of all, to fill up the kettle and stay hydrated. Then there had to be a shower block around her somewhere, so they could at least go to bed somewhat clean. And they needed to know where the toilets were. This last one most of all, though Holly was loathe to admit it. She'd needed to poo all morning, and was looking forward to emptying her bowels. That would have to wait until Renee was in bed, though. In six months together, neither woman had felt close enough yet to so much as mention pooping, or farts. Both were more than happy to pee in view of the other, but that last barrier hadn't been overcome yet. Holly suspected they were both just intensely private people in that regard, though she was sure that they'd eventually cross that bridge together. Renee came back about ten minutes later to find Holly pumping up the air mattress they'd bought from home. "There's not much here," she admitted, "just a lot of other tents, a few taps and an outhouse". That last word made Holly look up. "Outhouse?" "A little shed with a toilet inside," Renee explained. "I know what an outhouse is, I just didn't think we'd have to use one," Holly grumbled. She had no intention of doing her business in one of those. She hated having to look at other people's crap before she sat down. Holly was a woman who was used to the proper facilities. "Relax," said Renee with a laugh, "we'll probably just piss outside, anyway. It's not like anyone would see". It's not pissing I'm worried about, Holly thought, but she kept her mouth shut. She finished pumping up their bed for the next three nights and tossed the big sleeping bag brusquely on top. Then she excused herself, just as her girlfriend had done, on the pretence of 'looking around'. She wanted to get a look at this outhouse. Unfortunately, it was just as bad as she'd expected. While a tiny flicker of hope had remained that this was some kind of ultra-modern, self-cleaning outhouse, what she actually found was a grubby, ancient-looking wooden shack that looked like the door could fall off at any minute. A short queue of other campers had already started forming outside. She didn't get closer- the smell told Holly everything she needed to know. Her fears were confirmed; there was no chance she would be able to bring herself to take a dump in here, no matter how badly she had to go. For a moment, Holly considered sharing her predicament with Renee. But that thought was quickly chased away by her anxiety. She just didn't feel ready to share something so intimate with her partner, a part of her life that she hadn't talked about to anyone since she was a kid. So the only other option was to try and forget that she had to go. Holly headed back to the tent, already feeling her belly starting to bloat up. She wondered if there might be some way she could persuade Renee to cut the trip short so she could find the relief she needed. ———————————————————————————————- Halfway through their second day at the campsite, Renee was in some serious trouble. She needed to poop, and with every passing hour the urge was getting stronger and more frequent. She did her best to ignore it by encouraging Holly to do all sorts of activities together. They'd rented a kayak and taken it out on the lake, then gone for a nature walk and even gone swimming. In the water, Renee had tried to squeeze her poop out while her bottom half was invisible, but her body didn't seem capable of pushing it painlesly out whilst standing up. The worst part was that she'd barely needed to go the day before. She'd had her morning dump right before leaving early, and everything had been normal. Then she'd picked up Holly in the car. Renee had long since gotten used to holding in her poop while Holly was around, but they'd never spent a whole weekend away together before. She'd figured that it wouldn't be a problem until they'd realised that the only toilet was a smelly old outhouse. All of Saturday, the twinge in her bowels had come and gone, getting more and more urgent whenever it returned. But she couldn't bring herself to tell Holly. She'd been the one going on about how freeing and fun camping was, while Holly was reluctant, so there was no way she was suddenly going to admit the big flaw in their plan. And besides, she and Holly simply didn't talk about that kind of stuff. What came out of a girl's butt was her business, Renee reasoned, even if she and Holly had plenty of experience putting stuff in each other's butts. She didn't think a camping weekend was a good time to breach a subject that was clearly sensitive. By the time evening drew near, Renee had to poop badly enough that she was even willing to brave the outhouse. All of a sudden she was faced with a different problem altogether: she couldn't get away from Holly. They'd been inseparable all weekend, spending almost every minute together, and there was no way Renee could say she was going to the outhouse without Holly knowing that her girlfriend needed a number two. The thought made Renee blush deeply. Instead, she'd looked for an excuse to split up for a few minutes, figuring she could sneak away then, but no such chance came. She felt so full that it was uncomfortable, bordering on painful. At times she would need to actively clench her cheeks together to keep everything in its proper place. Every time her stomach rumbled, Renee rubbed it with one hand anxiously and hoped her girlfriend hadn't heard. How Holly didn't need to go by now was beyond her. She'd seen enough from mornings after they slept together that Holly usually pooped every morning- at least, that's what Renee had always assumed she was doing on those times where she got out of bed to "freshen up" and came back twenty minutes later in a shy mood. In a way, it was weird. Renee couldn't put her finger on exactly why the two were so adamantly against sharing anything about that particular bodily need when they were so open with the other. Even when the latest belly cramp hit, the couple were taking a leak together, squatting opposite each other a few feet apart just off a path through a deserted forest. "What do you want to do now?" asked Holly as her stream hissed into some paper-dry leaves. Renee thought for a moment, hoping to heaven that her squatting position didn't cause her to lose control and deposit something much stinkier and more solid on the ground. It was getting dark, but Holly would still surely notice if her girlfriend were to suddenly poop on the forest floor. "It's late," she said, "we should head back soon. We could open that wine?" They'd bought a carefully-packaged, albeit cheap, bottle of red and some plastic wine glasses. Holly agreed with the plan, and soon they were wiping with tissues from a packet she kept in her pocket. Renee came away relieved not to have accidentally pooped, but even more desperate to go than she'd been all day. The whole walk back was spent searching hungrily for a chance to sneak off and empty her colon. She thought of suggesting a game of hide and seek, as bizarre as it was, where she could pretend to be looking for Holly and use the time to speed run a poop. But there were a few too many holes in the plan: firstly, she didn't have the tissues and couldn't ask Holly for any without being obvious... and second was the risk that Holly might get bored and come looking for her, in which case she would catch her partner of half a year in the middle of pushing a turd out onto the ground. Holly got bored easily. In other circumstances Renee might have found it cute. In the end, Renee was forced to accept that the opportunity to sneak away for even a few minutes wasn't going to present itself. Her best bet was to enjoy the wine, try and get some sleep and try again in the morning. Once they were a few glasses deep, perhaps she wouldn't feel the need to go quite as badly. At least it was good to have a reason to hope. —————————————————————————————— A few hours later they were stumbling drunkenly into the tent, leaving two camping chairs, two plastic glasses and the dregs of a bottle of wine set up and forgotten outside. Holly tripped on the rim of the tent and fell, crashing onto the air mattress and bringing Renee down with her. She couldn't help laughing, at least until Holly cut her off with a passionate, alcohol-fuelled kiss that went on for a very long time. Suddenly Renee's need to shit was back with a vengeance... but she wouldn't, couldn't let something so small interrupt what was about to happen. She sat on Holly's waist, one knee on either side. It was one of her favourite moves, but this time Renee found a new advantage- sitting on Holly's pelvis meant there was added pressure on her butt, making it just a little easier to hold her shit in. From there she lifted Holly up until they were almost face-to-face, and yanked her girlfriend's t-shirt up and over her shoulders until it landed in one corner of the tent, discarded. Her face buried itself in Holly's neck, kissing behind the ear while her fingers fumbled to undo the girl's tight bra. It popped off easily and Holly smirked. "Now you," she ordered, and Renee was all too happy to obey, stripping off her own top half in what felt like a few seconds. The tent was warmer than she'd expected- or maybe that was the wine. She shoved Holly back down flat, shuffled backwards and pulled off the brunette's shorts and panties in one go. It exposed the pussy she'd grown to love for the last six months, one that was still slightly wet from the piss they'd taken together before bed, when she'd told Holly not to bother wiping herself. Renee's face moved towards Holly's pussy like a moth making a beeline to a lamp. If not for the urge to poop that had kept her so distracted, Renee knew she'd have been thinking about this moment all day. She was so close that she could smell the juices- And she could smell something else, too, something that caught her off guard. It wasn't a smell she'd ever heard coming from Holly, as far as she could tell, but there was no mistaking it. It was a fart smell. Renee knew her own. Holly's was close, if not quite identical. But Renee was too horny to let that get in the way of things. She told herself that it was only a surprise because she'd never thought about Holly's farts before. Of course she farts, said the voice in Renee's brain, everyone does. No big deal. Now get back in there and lick her until she screams. That did the trick, aided by the wine. Renee quickly found that she couldn't smell the fart at all when her nose was buried between the lips of Holly's cunt. The taste was almost heavenly enough to make Renee forget she had to shit so badly. Prrrrrt That time Renee didn't just smell it. She heard it. There was no doubt at all that Holly had let one rip. Renee came up for air, unable to hide her surprise. She saw Holly lying completely still, not looking her in the eyes, red in the cheeks. Renee pushed herself up and went to lie beside Holly's naked body, so that their heads were close enough to kiss. With her right hand, she reached over and started to rub her girlfriend's clit in the circles that she knew she liked so well. She was determined not to let something like farting ruin this great sex. It was uncharted territory for them, true, but still... Holly tried to break the silence after a while. "Renee, I-" But Renee leaned over and silenced her girlfriend with a kiss again. She'd known that eventually the couple would have to get comfortable talking about pooping and farting in front of each other. She just really didn't want tonight to be that night, not when it had started so promisingly. It was impossible not to worry that they'd kill the mood if the conversation got too heavy, or too intimate. "Don't worry about it," she instructed, "just fuck me". In truth, while half of her body was screaming out to get done good and hard, the other half was just begging for some distraction from how badly she had to poop. Renee felt like she was on the verge of turtleheading, her weakened sphincter muscles unable to hold out much longer. When Holly reached over and started to slowly slide her smallest finger into Renee's pussy, she was grateful for the diversion. They kissed again, and she knew that Holly was also grateful to be allowed to pretend the farts hadn't happened. The wine kicked in then. The night started to blur into one moment for Renee. She remembered Holly's whimpers as she came. She remembered being brought to a crashing orgasm herself by Holly's tongue. And she remembered needing to shit so very, very badly. At some point in that drunken blur, as the orgasms subsided, the two girls fell asleep in each other's arms. ——————————————————————————————— Holly woke up with exactly the kind of headache that could only come from a wine hangover. She'd been through it all before, which was why she usually preferred to stick to beer or spirits- that had all changed when she'd met Renee, though, who was a wine woman through and through. Holly blamed the French genes. She turned over to look around the tent, lit up by sunlight that seeped in easily through the thin material that formed the walls they were expecting to protect them from the elements. Renee looked fast asleep beside her, eyes closed, face still. There was a strong smell in the tent that Holly knew well, and she realised immediately where it was coming from. It wasn't just Holly's head that was feeling the effects of the night before. Her belly, too, was painful and bloated. However desperately she'd had to poop the day before, when she'd tried and failed a dozen times to sneak away from Renee and relieve herself out in the woods... she had to go twice as badly now. She vaguely remembered farting while being eaten out the night before, and her face burned with shame. But there was no time to linger on that now. She could feel her poop starting to poke out down there. Holly knew from experience (from the few times when she'd been desperate enough to touch cloth before, though this time her nakedness gave her no cloth to touch) that when she was at the point of turtleheading, she had no more than a few minutes to get to the bathroom. As quietly as she could possibly move, Holly slipped out of the sleeping bag and started searching the tent frantically for the clothes she'd had stripped off of her the night before. She found them dotted over the place, unpleasantly cold and wrinkled. There was no time to care what state they were in. Holly pulled them on and snuck out of the tent, hoping desperately that the sound of the zip wouldn't wake her girlfriend. It was no easy task to get out of there undetected, especially when Holly was too bursting for a poo to think straight. Somehow, though, she managed it, and soon she was rushing across the field with the tent behind her. There was nothing else for it. She was going to have to force herself to use the outhouse, no matter how disgusting and unpleasant it would be. The alternative now was shitting herself. The nearest place out of sight of other campers was just too far away for her to stand any chance of making it. The campsite was shaped like an L, with Holly and Renee's tent on one leg and the outhouse at one end of the other. She rounded the corner, knowing the outhouse would be in sight... and then she saw the queue. There were four people lined up outside, each holding a roll of toilet paper. Holly didn't know whether what happened next was triggered by the realisation that the queue was too long, or if it was a coincidence that her body finally gave in at that exact moment. All she knew was that she froze in place when she saw the wait and started to shit her pants. For the first time since she'd been a little girl, Holly's asshole stretched out as she stood there, powerless to stop it. A thick piece of poop slid into her underwear more quickly than she could have believed. She focused every bit of mental and physical energy she could summon into trying to clench her bum closed again, but the hangover had made her weak, not to mention days of holding. Within seconds the first log had broken off into her knickers, hot and huge, undoubtedly leaving a bulge that anyone walking past would see. She wasn't done yet, though; another piece rushed to follow, this one looser and longer. Suddenly her underwear was too full- the mess was going to tumble out of the sides and down her leg. Holly grabbed her ass with both hands to stop that happening and her face burned even hotter. If it wasn't already obvious that she was soiling herself like a child, it would be now. As soon as she finally felt empty, bitter that humiliation had stopped her from being able to enjoy the relief, Holly waddled away into the trees, cutting between two tents. A kid had poked his head out from one of them and was watching, slack-jawed. In the cover of the forest, when she was deep enough that she couldn't be seen, Holly dropped her shorts to the floor. She used the key in her pocket to saw off her shitty underwear and left it on the floor. It fell heavily, weighed down by the sheer size of the poop. Now that she'd gotten away with it without Renee noticing, Holly did feel a lot better. She wasn't in pain anymore, at least. A quick squat beside the poop gave her a chance to empty her bladder, which she hadn't even realised had filled up overnight. She would simply sneak back to the tent, and if her girlfriend asked, say she went out to take a leak. Nobody had to find out that she'd had an accident. Well, except for the dozens who'd seen it, that was. ———————————————————————————————— Renee was woken up by the sound of a tent zipper hissing. She opened her eyes and propped herself up, a little chilly in the morning air. Something felt weird, but she couldn't tell what. The tent was empty other than for herself. Holly must have already gotten up and gone out to take a piss, or something. That was a shame. If Renee had woken a little earlier they could have gone together. Almost right away, the overwhelming smell of poop hit Renee's nostrils. She recoiled the first time she breathed it in, then forced herself to sniff the air again to make sure she hadn't exaggerated it. It had to have been the worst-smelling fart Renee had ever encountered, though she had no idea if it had come from her or her girlfriend. She pulled the top of the sleeping bag off of her naked body, and suddenly realised why the fart smelt so strong: it wasn't a fart at all. On the bed- on her side of the bed- was a huge, thick piece of shit, almost a foot long, and firm too. Then it hit Renee why she'd felt weird when she woke up. She didn't need to poop anymore. She had shit the bed in her sleep and, by some miracle, had done it while facing away from Holly, so that it fell on the side of the sleeping bag that her girlfriend couldn't see. Panic rose in Renee's throat. She squirmed out from under the covers, careful not to touch the poop. She'd held it so long that the turd, as monstrous as it was, had come out solid and dry. That was a slice of luck, because it meant it hadn't left a mark... yet. But Holly could be back any second now if she was only going for a quick squirt. Renee needed to do something fast. She fumbled around the floor by where Holly's clothes and been and almost sighed in relief when her hands closed around the half-empty pack of tissues her girlfriend had been carrying around all weekend. Renee yanked a few of them out of the packet, enough to form a sort of tissue glove. A plan formed instantly. It was gross, but it was all she could think of, especially if she was working against the clock. Once again she found herself feeling grateful that it was a solid poop. Anything looser would surely have wrecked the bed and made hiding her accident impossible. Just in time, she stopped herself. She needed to think this over before she made a mistake that would give her away. Renee grabbed a few extra squares of paper, scrunched them up into a ball and used them to clean off her asshole as best as she could with some frantic swipes back there. Luckily there was barely a mark on the paper. Next she pulled on a t-shirt and pair of shorts. Commando would have to do, and there was no time to worry about a bra. If Holly asked she would just call it a feminist choice. Using the paper, Renee picked up the poop, squirming from the feeling of warmth that spread through two layers of tissue. It wasn't easy to pick up something so big all in one go, but she just about managed to lift the whole turd. With her spare hand, Renee unzipped the tent again, just enough that she could squeeze outside. The air out there was crisp, and it was a relief to be somewhere that didn't smell badly of her earthy shit. Renee straightened up and her heart stopped. Across the field she saw the one person she'd hoped not to come face-to-face with for at least a couple more minutes. Holly was walking towards the tent, giving her girlfriend a smile and a wave. Instinctively the hand holding the poop went and hid behind her back. She drew in breath. How was she supposed to explain to Holly why she was holding a poo wrapped in toilet paper? This was trouble. For the second time that morning, Renee started to panic, her chest tightening in seconds. She would be caught. The idea that popped into her head at the last minute was a terrible one, but it was all she had. As Holly came within fifteen feet, Renee pointed up at a random cloud in the sky and shouted, "Look!" She couldn't believe it worked. Holly spun around and stood there, shielding her eyes from the sun and trying to see what her girlfriend was looking at. Renee had to act fast. She turned to the side and, underarm, flung the poop as far as she could manage. It arched into the air and flew out of sight, landing beneath a nearby tree. Relief- real relief- flooded Renee then. She rushed up behind Holly and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "That cloud," she lied, "it looks like a dog". Holly frowned. "What kind of freaky dog did you have as a kid?" she asked. Renee just laughed. She squeezed Holly a little tighter and told her to forget about it. "Where'd you go?" she asked. "Just needed a piss," said Holly, and Renee realised something then that she hadn't noticed in all the panic. "I do, too," she said, "pretty bad. Come with me?" As ever, Holly was all too happy to keep her girlfriend company as she wondered off into the woods to pee, careful not to walk near the evidence of her accident. Renee thought to herself that they really should start being more open with each other about needing to poop. Maybe she'd bring it up soon. But perhaps not today.
  24. Decided to start posting some of the commissions I've done in the past (PM me if you'd like to order anything for yourself!) Here's the first. This contains wetting, messing and general toilet use for both men and women as well as some sexual content. "For Christ's sake, Mark, keep your hands on the wheel, at least". Mark knew that tone. Reluctantly, he forced himself to release the iron grip on his cock and put his left hand back on the steering wheel. There was no arguing with Rachel when she was in this kind of mood. For a moment he thought he might wet himself when he let go, but his bladder was just about still holding out. He knew that if he even so much as leaked it would show right up on the denim, and then his fiancée's teasing would be relentless. Back in the car park, Rachel had told him that she needed to piss, too, but as ever she was as cool as a cucumber about it. It wasn't the first time Mark had found himself envious of Rachel's capacity. For every bottle he managed before he had to rush off to the bathroom, Rachel could comfortably drink two. And she could always hold it for so long, too. Mark was the polar opposite: once he felt the urge to pee come on, he had a matter of minutes to get to the toilet before he started simply losing control. They'd spent most of the afternoon at a shopping centre a few miles from home, stopping for lunch in the upstairs food court. Rachel had ordered a cup of Pepsi for each of them from Subway. Knowing how quickly fizzy drinks went through her boyfriend, she'd suggested that he use the bathroom before they left, and he'd bullheadedly refused. Now, with their newly-bought house still five minutes away, he was seriously regretting that decision. "I don't think I can hold it until we get home, babe," he whined, resisting the urge to grab his penis again as they turned off a roundabout. And he meant it, too. His bladder felt near enough ready to burst. Mark couldn't help it- in his head he was already visualising himself having an accident. He could already feel the burning shame, see the disappointment in Rachel's pretty brown eyes. "If you don't let me hold myself, I think I'm gonna have an accident". He knew that his words would do no good; Rachel wasn't a stickler for the rules, not really, but she wasn't about to relent and sit idly by while her boyfriend tried to drive them through Brighton with just one hand. "Tough," she chided, "both hands on the wheel. You're a big boy now, you should be able to get home without doing a wee-wee in your undies". Mark's cheeks flushed with embarrassment- she knew that teasing him with childish language always touched a nerve. It made him feel small, partly because he knew she was right. He was a big boy, twenty-six and counting. And he really should be able to get home without urinating in his clothes. It had only been ten minutes since he'd even realised he needed to go, to make matters worse. Rachel knew him well. The truth was that Mark had been caught in this situation more times than he could count, and Rachel knew all about his little problem. She'd found out early in the relationship- it was inevitable, really, given how many close calls and sometimes even wettings he had. The very first time she'd seen him in soaked jeans, she'd been too stunned to say anything. After that she got used to his tiny little capacity, something none of his other girlfriends had ever been able to look past. She wouldn't act angry or disgusted when he came home and admitted he'd wet the car seat on the drive, which happened a few times a year. She seemed to even enjoy teasing him about it, in a way. But that didn't make things easier on days like today, when he was genuinely on the verge of another accident. By the time they pulled up outside of the house, Mark knew he was quickly running out of time to get inside and get to the loo. He even had to be careful as he climbed out of the car. He instinctively squeezed his dick through his jeans, glanced at Rachel nervously and sighed with relief when she nodded her approval. She usually didn't even mind him holding himself like a baby, so long as they were in private and he wasn't driving. With the front door and car keys being on the same ring, it fell to Mark to hobble to the former and get it open. With only one hand, which was shaking like a leaf from the desperation, that was easier said than done. To him, needing to pee was like a hose being turned on, and only ten minutes given until the pressure inside grew big enough to just explode. Their ground floor bathroom wasn't big, and it was situated all the way at the back of the house, but Mark found it infinitely preferable to the prospect of walking up the stairs like this. "Hurry, then," Rachel demanded, "I still need a piss and I'm gonna sit down first if you don't get a move on". Mark had forgotten she needed the toilet too, but her words spurred him into action and he picked up the pace as much as he dared. If his girlfriend got on the loo before him, he would most certainly, undoubtedly wet his pants. The sight of the toilet did the trick for Mark. With four fingers fumbling on his fly, he felt a hot spurt leak from the tip of his cock just feet away from salvation. On the second attempt he got the zip down, reached in and awkwardly felt around for his member. Getting it out of his boxer shorts was far harder than it needed to be, and he was already pissing in full flow when he finally extracted the thing and pointed it in the vague direction of the toilet. Piss splashed the seat and the lid before settling into a pleasant hissing sound that poured satisfyingly into the water. Mark closed his eyes, tilted his head back and let out a long sigh of relief. He was interrupted by Rachel's hands around his crotch. "Mark, you didn't make it again," she tutted, feeling the dark wet spot from where he'd leaked so much. It was a huge wet patch, he had to give her that, but he thought she was being harsh on him. She took his cock in her little hand and held it for him, aiming with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years. "Now hurry the fuck up, I really want a piss," she reminded him. Mark had forgotten all about her own need again. "Right, sorry". He pushed a little and felt the power of the stream increase, wanting to speed up the process so that Rachel could get on the toilet. Once, with both of them more than a little bit drunk, she had wet her halloween costume because he was 'taking too long to have a shit', in her words. She had never let him forget it and he didn't want to be the cause of anything similar happening again. Mark finished peeing and moved away from the toilet, all the while thinking about how much easier it would be if Rachel wasn't so strict on him using the sink as a urinal. She'd always encourage it if they were in someone else's bathroom, like at a party, because it got them out quicker. But here at home she forbade him from emptying his bladder in the sink unless she was drunk, or they were both desperate and she needed to get on the toilet right away. Before he'd even tucked his cock away, Rachel was pulling down her jeans and underwear. Unlike him, she had managed to keep both articles bone dry. She almost always did. Mark only managed to snatch a glimpse of her pussy and perfectly-trimmed bush before she was seated, and almost right away his fiancée started to piss a river into the bowl below. "You see, Mark, this is how you make it to the bathroom on time," she said in that condescending voice she used to scold him with whenever he leaked, "none of this grabbing your crotch bullshit. Just hold it in, get to the toilet and release". Mark looked down on the bathroom floor, feeling ashamed of himself. He didn't know why his petite, short girlfriend had so much more bladder control than he did, and it bothered him, but it didn't seem to something he could fix. The problem was bad enough that he would leak before getting to the toilet five or six times a week, have a full accident a few times a month and wet the bed just as often, especially if he'd had anything to drink. "Well, hang on," he asked spitefully as she tore off some tissue paper, "what about your accidents?" Rachel scoffed. "Those aren't accidents," she insisted. Her usual defence. "Aren't they?" Mark pressed, "let's think about that for a second, shall we?" ————————————————————————————— Not even two weeks before Mark's close call on the way back from the shopping centre, Rachel had had one of those little occasional incidents which Mark called an accident and she called a choice. It was a Saturday afternoon, so both were at home, a little hungover and doing their best to enjoy a slightly overcast start to the weekend. Mark had the football on; Rachel was dusting, if only because she knew nobody else would do it if she wouldn't. She refrained from mentioning to Mark that she really had to poop. He never understood why she didn't just go to the bathroom- it was only thirty seconds away. In truth, she'd had to go for most of the day. The opportunity simply hadn't come up yet. They'd woken up around eight, and she'd started feeling the urge while they were fucking, like they did most Saturday mornings. She hadn't mentioned it then because she didn't want to interrupt the sex. Then Mark had been on the toilet while she showered, and she'd forgotten she had to go for a while. The need had returned while she was making breakfast, but there'd been no time to use the bathroom when she still had to get the washing in the machine, sort out last night's dishes, take out the bins and sort through the old clothes that had been clogging up their room for the better part of a year. If Mark had helped more, she thought, I could've had a shit hours ago. On some level Rachel knew that he wasn't really to blame. Technically there was nothing stopping her from taking a bathroom break whenever she wanted. She just hated stopping what she was doing to use the toilet, especially when there were still chores to do. So her boyfriend was none the wiser, until she bent over to pick up a cushion and a fart accidentally slipped out, a mere two feet from his face. He recoiled, laughed and then switched into parent mode. "Christ, babe, just go to the toilet. You clearly need a shit". Rachel wrinkled up her face. "Explain to me how someone who regularly pisses himself thinks he can lecture me about when I should go to the toilet". "That's not the same thing," Mark said, holding up his hands defensively, "I can't help that my bladder's fucked. You choose to put off going for a poo until it's too late. You put yourself in these positions". "Yes, because I'm an adult and I get to make my own decisions," snapped Rachel. She'd heard it all before. The backbone of his logic wasn't exactly wrong, either, and she knew it. She just hated being told what to do. Also, she wasn't crazy about the idea that Mark knew her intimately enough to know when she needed the loo just from the smell of her farts. "I'll go when I feel like I need to go, until then it's none of your business". The truth was that she already needed to go quite desperately, but she couldn't stop her chores now without letting Mark know that he'd been right, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. So Rachel kept dusting, halfway around her usual circuit of the room now. Her bowels felt fuller than ever, and she found herself needing to clench her cheeks together just to stop anything else from slipping out. It took all of her effort not to show any more visible signs of her desperation. Rachel did her best to keep focusing on the task at hand, and it was almost working, until- Prrrrt Another fart rumbled out of her, this one far louder and less conspicuous than the last. Mark raised an eyebrow. "What's that? You don't need a shit, babe?" "Shut up". "Aww, does Rachel need the toilet? Is Rachel gonna go poop in her pants?" This time it was Rachel's turn to blush. "It's not that bad. I'm just a bit gassy. I can hold it until I'm done with this, easily". Internally, though, she wasn't so sure. It would be far from the first time that she messed herself after trying to wait too long. In the years that she'd been with Mark, he must have seen her soil herself at least a dozen times. Unlike him, her bladder control was strong and stable, save for a few drunken incidents that had been someone else's fault anyway. It was at the other end that she tended to have accidents, usually when she was too busy with something else to get to the toilet, or when she just couldn't quite hold it until the end of whatever movie or show she was watching. Frustratingly, Mark still didn't see why it was different from his wetting problem. At last, Rachel felt herself begin to turtlehead. Something firm and thick emerged from her bumhole and reached out towards the fabric of her underwear. Fortunately, she'd just finished polishing off the last surface in the room. She set down her duster and spray on the table and headed out of the room, smirking in satisfaction that she'd proven Mark wrong again. She was right next to the toilet with a log sticking out of her arse when disaster struck. Through the window on the back door, it started to rain in the garden. Rachel swore out loud and rushed outside, knowing she had seconds to save the washing that was drying on the line. Every step was painful while she gathered up the clothes, leaving pegs scattered on the floor below. It didn't take long before she realised that she was shitting her pants. Rachel swore again, grabbing the last few sheets, feeling the thick, doughy mass fill her underwear and squish against her bum. She did everything to shut off the flow, but her exhausted muscles were done with holding. Her colon demanded to be empty. She resigned herself to a pair of shitty knickers and a bit of teasing, now just focused on getting the washing inside. Rachel locked the back door behind her and dumped the damp pile on the floor. She stepped over it, then was hit with another wave of desperation. More poo that she hadn't even known was still inside of her crawled out. The bulge in her jeans went from an orange to a mango. All that Rachel could do was stand there and let it happen, grateful at least for the relief she was finally getting. "Was it raining?" Came Mark's voice. She looked up and he was rounding the corner. "I heard you open the back-" He froze, taking in what had happened for a second. An evil grin spread across his face. "Wow, I guess you couldn't keep your back door closed, could you?" Rachel huffed. "Shut up," she said again. "It looks like you were a bit wrong about being able to hold it in, babe". He took a few steps closer to her, reached behind and patted the massive bulge in the seat of her pants. He towered over her by ten inches; it made her feel tiny. "It looks like you had a really big accident". "I wasn't wrong," she protested, "I could have made it in plenty of time". That was an exaggeration- even without the washing incident it would have been a close call- but her boyfriend didn't need to know that. "I was just about to sit on the toilet and go when it started fucking pissing it down. If you'd helped me get the washing in I would have made it easy". That was also a lie. Rachel didn't care. She was just glad to have finally taken the dump she'd needed all morning, even if it was in her nice underwear. She broke away from the hug and marched towards the upstairs bathroom. That one had a shower, which she was going to need. On the way she stripped off her jeans and left them in the washing machine. "The rain didn't make you do that, honey," Mark pointed out, watching her go, staring at the brown-stained bulge that protruded from the back of her yellow and white knickers. "Then it was your fault," she called over her shoulder, "you or the rain, take your pick. I don't care who you blame, but it wasn't me". There was no need to close the door behind her while she stood in the bath and lowered her underwear until they were around her ankles. It was easy to use the panties as a glove to dump the poo into the toilet, then wash herself clean with soap and hot water. Mark didn't get it. She could have gone to the toilet whenever she wanted. She could have made it. It wasn't her fault that she hated stopping what she was doing. And it wasn't the same as his problem, pissing himself indiscriminately whenever he needed to go. She thought about something that had happened the week before... —————————————————————————————— "Right, keep watch for a second, I have to take a piss," Rachel slurred. Mark looked around nervously. "Here?" They were in the middle of the suburbs, only a few more minutes from their house. It was pitch-dark outside, with the only illumination coming from rows of streetlights that reflected off of windows or car wing mirrors. At 3AM, nobody else was around but the two of them. Their neighbourhood was mostly people with kids or guys who had to be up for work in the morning. They were the only living souls in the whole town, so it felt. "Yes, Mark, right fucking here," she said haughtily, "unless you'd prefer I pissed myself?" Rachel had been absolutely busting for a wee since they'd gotten off the train. She hadn't bothered going at the station, with home only a short walk away, but now it was clear that she'd need to rethink the plan. "Can't you hold it until we get home?" "No". Mark glanced around again. He'd heard of people getting arrested for indecent exposure and he didn't want his girlfriend to join the list. "Can you try and wait until we get somewhere a bit more private?" "No". They were right in the middle of a densely populated road, with houses and cars on either side. He wouldn't be surprised if someone could hear them through a bedroom window right now. "Please try," he pleaded, "we're almost home". Clearly, Rachel was beyond reason. "Don't be such a pussy, Mark," she goaded, yanking her panties down to her ankles and squatting on the pavement with her skirt hitched up. She moaned in drunken relief as a stream started instantly, apparently not caring that it was splashing her boyfriend's shoes. "Fuck, that's so much better". "Hurry it up," he said, trying to see if anyone was looking through their curtains. Mark was drunk, too, but not enough to make him feel good about his girlfriend getting her snatch out a few streets away from where they lived. "Done!" she announced eventually, standing straight again and pulling her pants back up. "Come on, you big baby, let's get you home". With an arm around his back, they walked the rest of the way. The warmth of the front hall was a welcome change from outside's bitter cold. Mark led his fiancée up the stairs. Suddenly he felt everything he'd drunk catching up with him. Wordlessly, they started undressing. Both had slept naked for as long as they'd known each other. Rachel left her clothes in a heap by the door, Mark's on the chair next to the make-up table. Rachel checked herself in the mirror and spun around, boobs sticking out, hoping to get some action before bed. She'd been horny most of the night, hence her little show of pissing in the street. Instead she saw Mark already in bed, face down on the pillow. "Mark," she sighed, "at least go for a piss before bed!" But Mark was already passed out. ———————————————————————————————— The next time Rachel opened her eyes, the room was already bright and full of colour. Her nipples stood alert and pink in the morning's cold. On the left hand, three fingers were still sticky from where a horny, booze-fuelled wank had turned into a horny, booze-fuelled orgasm before she'd fallen asleep the night before. She had only vague memories of it, just that she had badly needed to fuck and been forced to turned to her own devices when Mark had passed out before he could- before he could... That brought back another memory, of something she'd said before slipping between the sheets that night. Mark, at least go for a piss before bed. And he hadn't. She turned around to face him, still fast asleep and turned towards the window. Her right hand reached out to feel the sheet around his waist. Her suspicions were confirmed instantly: the fabric was soaking wet and already getting cold. Rachel was no stranger to Mark wetting the bed. Usually it happened when he was drunk, and it didn't take more than a beer to get Mark drunk. She'd grown used to it over time, and they had invested in a mattress protector, so she was never too worried when it happened now. The first step was to determine exactly how bad the accident was. Rachel slid across the bed so that she was practically spooning her boyfriend. She reached over him and started probing, first the sheets on the other side of his butt, then near his knees. As expected, the puddle was gargantuan. She felt his cock and ran her fingers through his thick, manly bush. Both were dripping with pee, too. He'd clearly absolutely drenched himself, and all because he hadn't been to the loo before bed. Rachel tutted. She felt him stir and wake up. Her fingers on his cock must have aroused him in more ways than one, because it sprung to life, doubling in size in a matter of seconds. When it was rock hard, she wrapped her hand around it and squeezed. "Morning," she said, "how're you?" It took him a few seconds to fully get up to speed. "I'm good," he mumbled, "what did I do to deserve this?" She pumped his dick a few times to tease him, then let go and whispered in his ear. "You pissed the bed again. Now strip the sheets, I'm going for a poo". With that, she left him stunned and hard in bed, smirking as she walked to the bathroom. Unlike the downstairs toilet, a tiny shed of a room tucked right at the back of the house, upstairs they had a spacious ensuite that you barely had to move out of bed to reach. Rachel sat down and started to push. This was her routine the morning after getting drunk- she would climb out from under the duvet, usually after some good sex, and walk naked straight to the toilet to empty her bloated bowels. She'd never admit it to anyone other than Mark, but she loved these morning dumps. It felt so good to sit down and push it all out of her, hear it pour from her body and splash into the water. She even loved stinking up the room. In the background she could hear Mark climbing down the stairs, opening the laundry machine and shutting it again, then returning to the first floor. Just as she was getting to the good part, her boyfriend walked back in, buck naked and embarrassed. "What's up?" "I still need a piss," he admitted sheepishly. Rachel sighed. Suddenly their roles from last night were reversed- now he was the one who had to go, and it was she trying to delay it. "Can it wait?" she asked. He squeezed his dick tight. It had mostly softened up again since her little tease back in bed. "No," he admitted. "Fine," she said, "you can just piss in the sink. I'm not gonna be done here for a few more minutes". With a log dangling out of her arse, Rachel was in no mood to give up her place on the toilet, and she didn't trust Mark to aim through her legs. Mark turned and unleashed a torrent into the sink, a relieved expression on his face. Though this was something she wouldn't even admit to him, Rachel quite liked watching him go, especially desperate like this. She just couldn't let her boyfriend make a habit of pissing in the sink, so she only allowed it when there weren't any other viable options, and she wanted to avoid a puddle on the floor. She knew how flimsy his bladder control could be. He finally finished up just as her last turd splashed noisily into the water below. Rather than wiping, Rachel decided to save the toilet paper and hop in the shower. She felt sweaty from last night and smelly from her dump, and her fingers were still tinged with dried juices. Within seconds she'd rinsed out her bum, and water tainted a light brown was gurgling down the drain. "Care to join me?" she asked, letting the water run through her hair, down her back and over her chubby arse. "You don't have to ask twice," Mark said eagerly. He climbed in with her, standing close. "Of course, you need the shower more than me, seeing as you're covered in piss," she pointed out, splashing him playfully with hot water. "Big talk from a woman who just washed poo out of her crack with her bare hand," Mark retorted, flicking drops at her nose. She couldn't help laughing at that. "It's clean, okay?" The teasing went on like that for a while, Rachel poking fun at him for wetting the bed, Mark grabbing her arse and laughing about times she'd wet herself. "You know," she said eventually, "I just realised something". "What's that?" "You didn't need to piss in the sink. If you waited another minutes you could've just gone in the shower".
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