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nononono

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  1. Sophie dug her hand into her crotch, as her bladder protested her decision to drive past yet another service station. Watford Gap was a place Sophie was well familiar with, as it was generally her stop of choice whenever she drove back to her dad's from Leeds. Countless times, she'd found herself practically sprinting to the toilets, desperate for relief, before stopping for a McDonalds. The journey was almost four hours with no traffic, and only once had she managed to do it without stopping for a wee. Her Satnav reckoned she had 1 hour 23 minutes to go, bad news as Sophie's need was urgent. She'd peed before leaving of course. One outcome of recent events was that Sophie never left home without making sure her bladder was completely empty. But instead of being able to deal with her needs in the privacy of her own bathroom, an empty tennis ball tube was now her toilet, which she'd use as quickly as possible, and pray no one comes in. I'll leave what happens when she needs to do something other than a pee to your imagination... The problem was she'd had a bottle of Diet Coke since then, plus some water as the sun beat down with intensity. Add to that longer than usual traffic, and you can understand how Sophie had ended up needing a wee so badly. Her plan was to drive to her dad's, then try and work out how to find Francesca Alcaraz. This would be easier said than done, as she was one of those people with no social media, no digital footprint. People weren't even convinced if Francesca Alcaraz was her actual name. Even Jasmyn, who prided herself on being able to find out absolutely anything about anyone, was unable to find out anything useful about Francesca. From her dad's, she could at least have a proper shower. Her university flat only had one bathroom, which meant showering was impossible. She'd washed that morning with a flannel and some soap, but she still felt fairly unclean. She longed to feel the warm water from the shower, covering her naked body. She snapped out of that daydream as her bladder twitched again, begging to be emptied. The traffic had slowed down again, and once again, the car ground to a halt. Realising it was unlikely she'd be moving for a minute or so, she pulled her handbrake up and took the opportunity to cross her legs, taking some pressure off her exhausted organ. Now busting for the loo, she considered her options. Option 1 was pulling up onto the hard shoulder and going there. That wasn't going to work; there were already police officers there talking to the owners of a Land Rover that had presumably broken down at the side. Option 2 wasn't really possible either, she'd had her car cleaned the other day so there was no receptacle that she'd easily be able to pee into. Both empty bottles she had in the car were way too small, and she didn't trust her aim, particularly when in a cramped car. Option 3 was more of a last resort - pissing herself. After what felt like an age, Sophie had reached Hampstead, and somehow hadn't succumbed to Option 3 yet. That being said, it was going to come right down to the wire, as an intense wave of desperation reminded her once more how critical her situation was. Her left hand was pressed firmly against her pussy, all in the name of not wetting herself. Pulling onto the drive, she gasped as a small drop of wee escaped, dampening her middle finger slightly. Her dad was waiting by the front door for her, as always. Against her bladder's wishes, she adjusted her dress, and removed her hand slowly from her peehole. Her bursting organ threatened to leak some more in protest, but she managed to suppress it. Grabbing the keys from the ignition, she threw them to her dad. "Can you get my bags, I'm about to wet myself," she asked, not waiting for a reply. "Lovely to see you too," he replied, but she'd already darted upstairs, clutching herself. Another spurt of urine leaked out as she opened the door to her room, ready to find whatever she could to urinate into. She'd practically started pulling her knickers down when... "You okay love?" a builder asked, stood next to his bemused colleague. Sophie yelped in shock, quickly readjusting her dress, and it took everything in her power not to wee herself there and then. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know anyone was in here," she mumbled, avoiding eye contact. She'd completely forgot that the builders were about to finish renovating the upstairs. "We'll be out of your hair soon darling, don't worry..." "That's fine, no rush," Sophie had already left the room, keen to find Plan B before the inevitable happened, when she came up with a plan. "Ahhhhh, that's much better," Sophie lied as she headed back downstairs, her bladder still very much desperately full. Her dad passed her a cup of tea. "Tell you what though, I might just go for a quick shower before I drink this, feel very hot and sticky from the car, you know?" "Ah I'm afraid you're going to have to wait, they've done some work in the shower but we can't use it for another four hours, otherwise the glue won't set properly or something." Sophie could have cried, her plans of doing a sneaky wee in the shower scuppered. A slither of urine ran down her legs, to remind her that the situation was now at a dangerous point. Without thinking, she whispered "pause". Her dad froze in his place, giving her one minute to try and find somewhere to pee. She dashed outside, and round the side of the house, her bladder now uncontrollably pumping out urine. She didn't bother to take her panties off, instead letting the urine explode out of her and completely soak her underwear. She managed to get her dress out of the way of most of the damage, but her legs and feet were now covered in her piss. The relief was incredible, so much so that Sophie almost forgot where she was. She managed to avoid the temptation to touch herself, but fuck it felt so good. As her stream died down, she was interrupted by a cough. "Excuse me, are you Sophie Hisgrove?" a police officer asked. "Erm, I am yes," Sophie replied confused. "Could you come with us? We have some questions we need to ask you."
  2. Sophie jolted upright, head and bladder throbbing. She checked her phone: 7:28am. Classic, she thought. First chance for a lie in and my stupid bladder wakes me up. It explained her dream at least. She'd dreamt that every time she tried to use the toilet, she'd be transported somewhere else, gradually getting more and more desperate. Speaking of, Sophie was fit to burst. She reluctantly tore herself away from the warm comfort of her duvet, feeling the cool morning air on her naked body as she stood up. She debated putting some clothes on, but her bladder was in no mood to be delayed, and besides, her flatmates would probably all be asleep anyway. Sophie always needed a wee when she woke up, but this was next level. It almost felt as though she forgot to urinate when she came home from the pub. Which was a possibility, as she had had a substantial amount of beer by the time she decided to go home. Peeking her head out of her bedroom door, she saw the coast was clear, so she darted across the hallway, clutching herself desperately as what felt like litres of urine begged for release. --- FUCKKKKKKKK. It all came back to Sophie instantly. It wasn't a dream at all, but a very real reality. In truth, she didn't really remember anything that clearly from yesterday, but the pieces of the story were starting to come together in her mind. She remembered pissing in her sister's sink, and then having to try and explain what was going on. She remembered having to pee in an empty Starbucks cup when her sister gave her a lift back to Leeds and they got stuck in traffic. She remembered trying to still enjoy the evening at the pub but spending most of the time so desperate for the loo she could barely talk. And she remembered wetting herself on the top floor of the 78 bus because she couldn't hold on any longer. Sophie assessed her surroundings, her stomach twisting as she realised where she was. It was all the same as it was when she left without saying goodbye three years ago, from the tacky 'Live Laugh Love' sign in the hallway, to the ugly green carpet. She was at the house of her ex-boyfriend's parents, naked, with a bladder on the verge of exploding. She desperately clutched her peehole as a spurt leaked out, the drops softly pattering on the outdated carpet. Twisting her body in agony, she silently gasped as she heard a voice from upstairs. "Who's down there?" her ex's gruff father called out. Sophie's heart rate spiked, as her bladder started to reach bursting point. The stair floorboards creaked, as his father began to make his way downstairs, so Sophie did the only thing she could think to do, and freeze him. With one minute before he unfroze, and potentially called the police, Sophie knew she had to act quickly, but she was beyond desperate for a wee at this point, and her bladder was causing her physical pain. Searching frantically, for a receptacle to relieve herself in, her eyes were drawn to the flowerpot by the front door. Holding on for dear life, she grabbed the flowerpot, only to find it was significantly heavier than she had first realised. As another spurt leaked out, and with time running out, Sophie had no choice but to see where the bathroom door would take her this time. --- She was in the charity shop where she sometimes volunteered, still completely naked, and still absolutely bursting for a wee. The shop's alarm started blaring almost immediately, as no one was due to open up until 9pm. The one time Phyllis remembers to set the alarm, Sophie wryly thought. She could hold on no longer. Her bladder gave up the ghost, violently releasing its contents onto the floor of the shop, amid the deafening sound of the burglar alarm. Sophie moaned as a small waterfall left her body, with no thought about how she was going to explain the puddle on the floor to her boss. Or how she was going to explain being naked. Or how she was going to explain setting off the burglar alarm. The relief was so great she almost wanted to cry, with the stream showing no sign of stopping. After what felt like almost two minutes, her bladder was empty, and she could turn her mind to the situation. Keen to get out as quickly as possible, she grabbed a pair of light denim flared jeans, an oversized t shirt and some scuffed white trainers. She disabled the alarm, and went to get some cleaning stuff. Shit, she thought. All the cleaning stuff is in the bathroom. Not wishing to find herself on the doorstep of anymore of her exes, she decided to improvise, using some old jumpers to clean up the mess. Praying no one would notice the loss of some old jumpers, or the light smell of urine mixed with the cheap perfume she'd poured over it to try and hide the smell, she disposed of the jumpers, and let herself out, making sure to reset the burglar alarm, and lock up again. Hopefully no one would ever find out. Hopefully.
  3. "Wait, so you just left her there, covered in her own piss?" Jasmyn asked. "Well I offered her a change of clothes, but she sort of just stood there, being intense and weird. I left as soon as she started doing some weird chanting, it was getting kind of spooky," Sophie laughed. "Anyway cheers, here's to the end of uni!" she held up her pint and cheersed Jasmyn and the other girls, Amelia and Lucy. Amelia's power was one that EVERYONE at university was incredibly jealous of; she could get rid of all alcohol from her body at will. In other words, she could get drunk to ridiculous levels, and then as soon as she wanted to be sober, she just had to click her fingers twice and it would be like she hadn't drunk anything. Lucy's power was that she could change her hair colour at will, today she'd gone for blonde hair ("blondes have more fun right?" she'd hypothesised). The pints flowed as freely as the conversation, the girls talked about everything from the exam, to summer plans, to their love lives. Sophie crossed her legs uncomfortably as she finished the end of her third pint, she was once again desperate for a wee, but was engrossed in Lucy's story about how she'd ended up having a threesome with her ex and his new boyfriend. Thankfully for Sophie, she wasn't the only one struggling. "Ah I'm sorry, I'm about to wee myself, anyone want to come to the loo with me?" Lucy asked. "Oh thank fuck, I've been busting for the last twenty minutes," Amelia stood up, dancing on the spot. "Shall I get us another round on the way back?" "Sounds good, I'll watch our stuff," Jasmyn replied. Jasmyn had of course peed half an hour ago without leaving her seat. "Hurry uppppp, I've already nearly wet myself once today, I'm dying here," Sophie moaned. "Shotgun first," Lucy piped up. "Don't think I'll make it otherwise." Lucy and Amelia headed through the door, clutching themselves in desperation. Sophie followed through, praying that the toilet would be free. --- But the door didn't lead Sophie to the bathroom. She was back home, nearly 200 miles away in Hampstead. Her eyes widened in disbelief, as she stood on her front porch, bladder still very much in need of emptying. She was about to pull her phone out to message Amelia and Lucy, when a familiar figure approached. "Sophie?" her dad looked bewildered. "I thought you weren't coming home until next week." Sophie winced as her dad hugged her, reminding her of her very pressing need to urinate. "Oh yeah, erm, well I thought I'd surprise you," she lied, struggling to make sense of what happened. "But didn't you have an exam today?" he asked. "That was yesterday dad..." Sophie knew her only option was to gaslight her dad. "Oh," he answered, looking at his daughter like he'd never seen her in his life. "Do you want a cuppa?" "In a minute dad, I'm dying for a wee though," she crossed her legs. She paced upstairs, desperate to empty her bladder, and desperate to work out what the hell was going on. The toilet was empty - thank God! She started unbuttoning her jeans, and darted through the door... --- She was now in the centre of Hampstead, at the cafe she used to work at when she was in sixth form. Her bladder burned intensely, whilst her brain was completely frazzled by what was going on. Realising her jeans were still unbuttoned, she did them back up, moaning as the tight waistband constricted her bladder again. A drop of wee escaped to remind her of her desperate situation. "Hi, can I use your loo?" Sophie asked, trying to seem calm, despite her resolve beginning to slip. "Toilets are for customers only," the sixteen year old girl behind the counter grumpily informed her. Hope I was never like this, Sophie thought to herself. "It's quite urgent," Sophie pleaded, dancing on the spot and holding herself, both for emphasis and as a necessity. "Customers only," the girl responded. "I don't want to get in trouble with my manager," she softened as she saw the pained expression on Sophie's face. "Look, if you don't let me go, you're going to have a puddle to clean up here. Which do you think your manager would....." "Sophieeeeeeeee!" a familiar voice interrupted her. It was Maya Abdi, the larger than life African woman who owned the cafe, and gave Sophie her first job all those years ago. "How are you my darling?" "I'm good," Sophie lied. "Maya I'm happy to chat in a minute, but could I possibly use the toilet before I wet myself? I promise I'll buy something." "Of course beautiful, you know where it is," Maya smiled. Sophie mumbled a thank you, then dashed upstairs, praying that whatever was going on would stop, and that she'd be able to use the toilet. Taking a deep breath, she headed through the door... --- ...and found herself on the front porch of her sister's flat. Sophie simply couldn't wait any longer. She was pretty sure her sister would be at work, and she had resigned herself to the idea that toilets were no longer an option for whatever reason. Unbuttoning her jeans again, she dashed into the kitchen, pulled her knickers and jeans down, and hopped up onto the sink. Hoping no one would walk past the house, she relaxed, and sighed as the three pints left her body, tapping loudly against the cold metallic sink. She shuddered as her bladder continued to void itself, grabbing some kitchen roll to wipe herself. The stream died down, now Sophie could focus on figuring out what was happening to her. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!!" the shrill voice of Sophie's sister shrieked. Sophie looked up to find her sister and her new boyfriend stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Sophie quickly pulled her knickers and jeans up, turning an unnatural shade of red. "I promise there's an explanation for this..." Sophie began, trying to think of an explanation.
  4. Sophie Hisgrove anxiously glanced at the clock: 12:53. Still seven minutes to go. Seven minutes till freedom, until her time at university would be over. After the seemingly endless days at the library, nights brushing up on the Ottoman Empire instead of going to the pub, she was ready to reap the rewards of her hard work. Very soon, she'd be several pints deep in the beer garden at The Sheep and Tiger, making up for a month of exam induced abstinence. But first there was something very pressing she had to attend to. Trying to distract herself from her very full bladder, she glanced round the room. Her best mate Jasmyn's eyes had practically rolled back into her head, and Sophie knew exactly what was happening. An explanation is necessary at this point. Sophie's world on the face of it looks a lot like the Planet Earth that you and I are familiar with. It's still 2023, there's still a Leeds University, and people aren't using jetpacks to get to Tesco. But unlike the world we know, everyone is born with a randomly allocated special power of some sort. A lucky few had powers that made their everyday life extremely comfortable, but most people's powers were fairly innocuous and made very little difference to their everyday lives. Sophie's dad, for example, had the power to cook ingredients perfectly using his mind, and owned one of the most exclusive restaurants in London as a result. Sophie's sister, on the other hand, had the power to sharpen pencils using her mind. A useful power, but hardly one that was going to change lives. It was Jasmyn's power that Sophie was very, very jealous of at this moment in time. When Jasmyn's bladder was full enough, she is able to transfer her urine elsewhere. In other words, she could urinate freely without getting her clothes dirty. Usually, she'd just divert her pee into a nearby river or stream, but occasionally, she had been known to send it to other people's bladders instead. She normally only did it to people that have pissed her off. Once, she accidentally transferred her piss into Sophie's bladder when they were both drunk and bursting for a wee in the queue for Popworld in fresher's week, an action which led Sophie to wet herself in front of most of her new course mates. Once again, Sophie was reaching breaking point, and was praying for the end of the exam so she could go and relieve herself. Finally, the invigilator announced the end of the exam. Sophie had already undone the top button of her jeans, such was her desperation. Fortunately for her, Jasmyn had managed to send her pee somewhere else this time, otherwise she would have 100% wet herself. She wasn't even sure she'd make it to the toilet at this point. Her fist was dug deep into her crotch at this point, physically shaking as she waited for the invigilator to pick up her paper. She glanced desperately at the hordes of people already leaving the exam hall. There was no way she'd be able to wait in line. Her bladder, sensing defeat, allowed a drop of urine to escape into Sophie's panties. Almost on the verge of tears, Sophie silently cursed herself. She had time to pee before the exam, but had stupidly decided to spend the last few minutes cramming revision instead. And now all the coffee and water consumed was coming back with a vengeance, filling her bladder to the point of near-explosion. The second the invigilator had her paper, Sophie was up, clutching herself, whilst simultaneously pulling up her jeans. The urine sloshed uncomfortably as she left the hall as fast as she could, moaning as another spurt leaked out. She briefly assessed the queue for the ladies, but the sea of desperate woman dancing frantically stretched across the corridor and beyond. Sophie knew that simply wasn't an option. She'd only just shaken off the Sophie Piss-grove nickname, and she was not prepared to embarrass herself like that. For Sophie, wetting herself was now an inevitability. It was just a case of damage limitation. As she hobbled up the stairs, Sophie's mind was on finding somewhere where she could discretely wet herself, then make an excuse to head home, change, and come back ready to party. What she hasn't banked on was a first stroke of good luck that day: on the right at the top of the stairs was a vacant toilet. That joy was very short-lived, as speeding frantically past her came Francesca Alcaraz. Not much was known about Francesca. She was incredibly beautiful, with long black hair and immaculately maintained lightly tanned skin. This plus her mysterious aura meant that many at the university fancied her. But the few people brave enough to try and ask her out on a date were shot down instantly, with just a long and withering stare. Very few people had heard her talk, yet she somehow seemed to get top marks in every exam. She lived a life of solitude, and was normally found in Booth K on the 3rd floor of the university library, normally dressed head to toe in black, and always looking completely unapproachable. A rumour went round in second year that she spent an entire week in that booth without drinking, eating or peeing. With that in mind, it was strangely humanising to see Francesca running past her, clearly in dire need of relief. But Sophie knew time was against her, as she felt another dribble of wee run down her leg. Francesca darted into the bathroom, too desperate to shut the door. "PAUSE," Sophie shouted, her gaze fixated on Francesca, who had already started pulling her knickers down. Sophie rarely made use of her special power, the ability to freeze another person for one minute, but she had no other option. Rushing into the loo, she practically ripped her jeans and panties off. The second her bum made contact with the seat, her desperately, desperately, full bladder finally relaxed. The feeling was indescribable, better than any sex she'd ever had. As urine cascaded out of her exhausted peehole, she couldn't help but feel bad for Francesca, frozen in time right in front of the toilet. Very soon, she would unfreeze, and realise the toilet she was so close to was now unavailable. But Sophie's bladder had clouded her moral judgement, and she found it difficult to care about anything besides the intense feeling of utter relief. A minute passed, and Francesca reanimated, confused and on the brink of exploding. She shrieked as her bladder gave up. A gush of urine leaked out of Francesca, before steadying to a strong stream, dampening her knickers which halfway round her ankles at this point. Still dazed by the situation, Francesca tried to hold herself, clutching her pussy through her black skirt, but she was past the point of no return. Sophie finally stopped urinating, but Francesca's stream went on and on and on, flooding the floor of the toilet. She had given up trying to stop the stream, and instead, glared intensely at Sophie, as her bladder emptied itself involuntarily. Sophie wiped herself, keen to avoid eye contact, pulled her pants and jeans up, and flushed. "Francesca I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," Sophie mumbled, shame taking over the high of relief. Francesca said nothing. "I only live a short walk away, you can come and shower and borrow some of my clothes if you like?" Francesca continued to glare at Sophie, who was now washing her hands. Francesca started whispering, intensely and angrily. "I'm sorry?" Sophie asked, fed up by the interaction. Francesca's volume crescendoed gradually to a scream of unintelligible words. Sophie wasn't renowned for her linguistic ability but she'd never heard the language that Francesca was shouting. It was almost mesmerising, her words had a chant like quality to them. It was also deeply terrifying, and Sophie no longer wanted to invite her into her flat. "Okay never mind then... sorry," she meekly replied, sheepishly leaving a piss-drenched Francesca chanting in the bathroom. Sophie pulled her phone out, and opened up WhatsApp: "Hey, got held up soz. I'll meet you outside. Got an unbelievable story for you..."
  5. VI "Are you still watching?" the black screen on the TV in Grace's old bedroom read, as she lay undressed in bed at 3pm for the seventh day in a row. Using what felt like all the strength she could muster, she chose "Yes and don't ask me again" option. She didn't need to be judged by a streaming service she paid £16 a month for. Well, her parents did. She took another gulp of the giant bottle of Coca-Cola that sat by her bed, next to the stacks of empty Dominoes, Wagamamas and McDonald's boxes. It was one week since the worst day of her life, one week since some scumbag took a photographs of her on that beach in Mauritius, one week since Prince Thomas broke up with her, a decision she was 99% certain that the Royal Family forced him to make. A week of constant trending on Twitter, endless email requests, countless DMs from sick perverts on Instagram. Another episode of Below Deck played. She thought about texting Thomas again, but then remembered he hadn't replied to any of her messages. He was on the news yesterday talking about England's bid to host the 2030 World Cup, smiling and shaking hands with various delegates. Why the fuck does he look so happy? Grace thought at the time. As she finished the 1.5 litre bottle of Coke, her mind was drawn to her increasing need to pee. She'd only peed once that day, when she was woken up by a bursting bladder at 7am. Even going to the toilet felt like a chore at the moment. The bathroom was downstairs, and that meant risking social interaction. At the moment, trips to the bathroom were reserved for absolute emergencies. Ignoring the discomfort in the bladder, she continued to binge Below Deck. Reaching for her phone, she saw the framed picture of her and Thomas she kept next to her bed, and her eyes welled up with tears again. The picture was taken before a big fancy dinner with the President of France, and Grace looked so beautiful. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she looked a shell of a person. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes puffy and her white vest top stained with tomato sauce. An email came through, this time it was the Love Island producers asking if she'd be interested into being on the next series. Grace couldn't help but smile for the first time that day. If only they could see me now. Another episode finished, and Grace conceded that it was probably time to brave the bathroom. She'd seen that Euphoria episode, the one where Rue's kidneys stop working because she's too depressed to pee. The Coke was now resting heavily in her bladder, and she was finding it difficult to sit still. Throwing a dressing gown on to hide her stained vest, she got out of bed for just the second time that day. She crept down the stairs, but immediately scurried back to her room as she heard the doorbell ring. It was her parent's friends, Pete and Jess, round for tea and cake. Her mum had spent the morning trying to encourage Grace to join them, but the last thing she wanted to do was to speak to someone else right now. Grace cursed her luck as she closed her bedroom door quietly behind her, bladder still full of urine. She watched another episode, to try and take her mind off of her now desperate need to pee. She lay on her side, fist firmly dug into her crotch, trying to contain the considerable amount of piss that was building up inside her. By the time the episode was done, she was dying to go, barely able to think about anything else. She hobbled to the door, clutching herself, and listening to see if she could still hear Pete and Jess. Jess's cutting laugh indicated that they were. She thought about just braving it and heading downstairs, but catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she decided that was a no-go. Grace assessed her other options. 1) Hold it until they left - Grace knew this was the most dignified option, but how long was that going to take? Pete and Jess were sometimes known to stay long into the evening, even when just coming round for a cup of tea. Besides, Grace was so desperate for a wee that she didn't think she could hold it much longer at all. 2) Wet herself - she was already known for wetting herself, why not just play into it? But her floor was carpeted, and her towel was still in the bathroom. Her room also already smelt bad enough without having to worry about the smell of urine. 3) Find a container to pee in - Grace knew straightaway this was the option she'd have to pursue, as the urine sloshed uncomfortably in her aching bladder. Clutching herself tightly, she knelt down to see if she could find anything to pee in. There was the empty Coke bottle, but aiming would be near impossible. All her packaging from her takeaways was made out of paper, so that was a no go. Just as she was beginning to give up hope, she remember she ordered a large Fanta from McDonald's. If she could find the cup from that, she'd be golden. After some frantic searching through her messy bedroom, she found it: the holy grail to ending her predicament. She danced desperately as she tried to undo her pyjama bottoms, whilst trying not to wet herself straight away. She eventually undid the knot, and pulled her bottoms down, revealing her very much unshaven pussy. She'd barely held the cup against her pee hole when there was a knock at the door. A slither of pee came out, but Grace managed to clench, and reluctantly pulled her pyjama bottoms back up. "Come in," Grace croaked, ignoring the pee that was now on the verge of leaving her body. "Hello love," Grace's mum wrinkled her nose at the smell. "We were just wondering how you're doing today?" "I'm fine," Grace lied as a trickle of wee escaped, running down her leg. "Okay, we thought we might go out for dinner and we wondered.." "No thanks," Grace interrupted, desperate to get her to leave her room as soon as possible. "I just thought I'd ask. Ooh let me just clean this up for you," her mum said, picking up some of the containers that lay strewn across the floor. Grace's heart dropped as her mum took the empty Fanta cup out of her hand, but she was grateful that she didn't notice the drop of pee inside. Another slither of urine left her body, reminding Grace she didn't have long. "Are Pete and Jess still here?" she asked. "No..." her mum started, but was interrupted by Grace dashing out the door, clutching herself as she ran in search of relief. As she ran down the stairs, she heard a voice downstairs. "Hi mum, hi dad. I'll say hi in a minute, but I'm absolutely gasping for a wee," shouted Grace's younger sister, Anna. Grace had completely forgot that she was coming back from uni. Normally she'd have been delighted to see her sister, but as she saw her sister hurry into the bathroom, she felt a sense of anger, and worry. Grace waited anxiously outside the door, but as she heard Anna's tremendous stream crashing against the toilet water, and her moaning in relief, she couldn't hang on anymore. Urine burst out of Grace, dramatically soaking her pink pyjama bottoms, and pouring onto the floor like a shower head. Grace sighed as her exploding bladder emptied, but her face reddened as her parents approached, dad avoiding eye contact, and mum looking very concerned. The toilet flushed, the tap turned on, and then Anna was outside the door, watching as Grace continued to wee herself. "Hey sis," Anna laughed. "Is pissing yourself your personality now then?" Grace just cried. "Don't be so insensitive," their mum hissed. "Just trying to lighten the mood," Anna shrugged. Grace darted into the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and released the rest of her pee in the toilet bowl, sobbing into her hands. Her phone buzzed. "Hey Grace, sorry for not texting this week. Can we meet up later? In secret... T x"
  6. V Victoria Henley-Brown stood on the hard shoulder on the M4, shivering on what was a particularly grey and miserable March afternoon. Her cameraman was midway through changing a tyre, allowing a stream of expletives to leave his mouth as the wind interfered once more. The beautiful brunette looked around anxiously; she was nervous, understandably as in a few hours, she was supposed to be reporting live on BBC One. "You know you can give me a hand if you want?" her cameraman moaned at the BBC's newly appointed royal correspondent, stood scrolling Twitter on her phone. "Sorry hun, but I can't afford to get this coat dirty, it's Burberry," Victoria replied in an accent that had become ten times posher since her promotion. "Some would say this new job has gone to your head, but I think you're still the same down to earth girl you've always been," the cameraman moaned. "Oh shut up Ben, jealousy isn't a good look for you," Victoria mocked. "How much longer is this going to take?" Ben felt the rage consume him, but managed to bite his tongue at the last second. "We should be good to go in a minute, it's not the easiest job to do by yourself," Ben grunted. "Good. Can we stop at the next services? I could do with a trip to the ladies," Victoria asked. Ben sighed. "What? Don't blame me, blame the large cappuccino I had at lunch." Ben put the wrench down, and looked at his watch. "Fine, we just about have enough time. But be quick. No washing your hands." Victoria scrunched her face up. "You're truly vile, but I love you," she kissed him on the cheek. Minutes later, they were back up and running, 12 miles away from Reading services. 11 miles away from Reading services, the car started to struggle again, making a loud rumbling noise, before spluttering and conking out completely just as Ben had pulled into the hard shoulder. "What now," Victoria groaned. "Don't know, looks like the engines cut out. Of course my fucking car decides to breakdown twice on fucking train strikes day," Ben gripped the steering wheel tightly in frustration. "We should probably get out," he added, as a Ford Fiesta came perilously close to hitting the car. --- It had been about an hour since the AA were called, and Victoria was starting to get stressed. She was due to be live on BBC One giving an update about the latest royal family developments at 6:05pm. It had just turned 4pm and Waze reckoned they were about an hour and a half away from Buckingham Palace, assuming the traffic didn't get any worse. On top of that, she really needed to find a toilet, a situation not being helped by the freezing wind. "Urghhhhh I have to pee so badly," Victoria moaned, jiggling on the spot. "Me too," Ben shifted uncomfortably. After weighing up his situation for a few minutes, Ben decided he couldn't wait any longer. He darted to the grassy patch next to the hard shoulder, unzipped and pulled his cock out. "Ahhhhhhhhhh," Ben sighed as he urinated, feeling utterly relieved as his bladder deflated. The sound of Ben pissing was almost unbearable for Victoria, who blocked her ears and crossed her legs desperately. "Sorry," he sheepishly apologised when he came back. "It's so unfair that men can just go wherever they want, when we have to hold it until we find somewhere proper," Victoria cried. "No one's stopping you. I can make sure no one sees you if you want?" he offered. Victoria grimaced. She was tempted, as her bladder continued to fill at an alarming rate. But she resisted. Everyone had seen the video of Grace Harris on Twitter, peeing herself and wanking off the Prince on a beach in Mauritius. Sure, she knew she wasn't as high profile as Grace, but she also knew there are lots of voyeuristic creeps out there, and she didn't want to risk being caught pissing by some sick pervert with a smart phone. "I'll hold it," she reluctantly concluded. It wasn't long before the AA turned up, and Victoria danced around frantically as they fiddled about with the car. She longed to hold herself, or better still, release her pent up urine, but she instead smiled politely, focussing all her energy on not wetting herself. Eventually, the car was fixed and the two were back on the road, one with an empty bladder, and one with a bladder bursting at the seams. "Thank fuck," Victoria cried, hands fully dug into her crotch now that she was out of public view. "Now let's find those services before I wee all over your car." Ben's smile dropped. "I'm really sorry Vic, but there's no way we have time to stop. We're only just going to make it on time as it is, and that's assuming there's no more traffic." Victoria wanted to scream. "I don't think you understand how badly I need to go," her face whitening. "I've literally not peed since I woke up." Ben widened his eyes in disbelief "nah that's got to be bullshit." It wasn't. Victoria was renowned in the business for having a bladder of steel. Before her promotion, she'd be sent all over the country, often to places with no easy bathroom access. She'd hold it for hours on end, and she wouldn't even think about it until she sat on the train home. Then it became a game to see how long she could hold it for. Sometimes she'd have to resort to using the train toilets, but most of the time, she'd manage to make it all the way home, before unleashing an unholy amount of urine in the comfort of her own bathroom. However Victoria was drinking much more than usual, as she was trying to battle a sore throat. And now she was on the verge of exploding. --- The next hour and a half was the longest of Victoria's life. Her bladder felt as though it was going to pop, and poison her body with urine. She'd searched desperately for some sort of container to pee into in the car, but couldn't find anything. "The one time you fucking clean this car..." she moaned at Ben. All her normal inhibitions were out the window, her hands had been jammed into her peehole for most of the ride, in the name of preventing an accident. They were finally in London, but Victoria was starting to panic. "I don't think I can do this," Victoria cried, her breath shortening. "Come on, we're nearly there now," Ben tried to sooth his desperate colleague. "I'm absolutely bursting, this is torture," Victoria clutched her aching peehole. "You'll be fine," Ben lied. In truth, he didn't know. He had never seen anyone this desperate for the toilet before, and he wasn't convinced that his front seat was going to be dry by the end of the journey. "You can present your piece, then we can find you a toilet." "I can't believe this is happening. I can barely think about anything else, how the fuck am I supposed to present live TV?" Victoria cried. Her bladder was swollen, and not at all well hidden by her white jumper. The top button was undone on her blue suit trousers, exposing her lacy white panties to Ben. Not that she had another choice though; she was convinced that she'd have already pissed herself if her top button was still digging into her dangerously full organ. It was now 6pm, and within minutes, she'd be reporting live to the country about the dramatic developments in the royal family. She just hoped her bladder could hang on. The speed bumps on the road up to the palace were hell for Victoria. With every jolt, it felt like 1000 knives were digging into her bladder, and at this point, she had no choice but to hold herself by slipping her hands through the waistband of her panties. One particularly violent speed bump was too much for Victoria, and a hot spurt of pee leaked onto her fingers. Clenching everything, she managed to stem the tide but she knew she didn't have long left. She was in physical pain at this point, to the point she was genuinely worried about whether it was medically safe to hold it this long. The car pulled up to Buckingham Palace, the lighting and microphones already in place. She felt the nerves again, and as she reluctantly took her hands out of her panties, her peehole almost gave up. Using all her might, she held on, but the next challenge was seconds away. As she stood up, she felt the entire weight of her bladder for the first time. The game was almost over, and a long streak of piss running down her legs reminded her how close to exploding she was. Doubling over in pain, she wasn't sure if she'd manage. "Are you okay?" one of the lighting men asked. Victoria could barely walk, let alone speak. "She's just a bit desperate for the loo," Ben answered on her behalf. "A bit?" Victoria growled. She waddled to her position, risking a flood with every step. Once in position, she couldn't stand still. She hopped on the spot, squirmed dramatically, contorted her body in whatever way possible to hold her pee. "You're on in 30 seconds," Ben whispered. Victoria nodded and tried her best to compose herself. But when she stood still, the pressure built intolerable levels. A member of crew attached an ear piece to her, the task made more difficult by her inability to stand still "Vic! Trousers!" Victoria looked down, her trousers were still unbuttoned at the top, revealing her panties to the whole crew. If that was the most embarrassing part of the next five minutes, then she'll have done well. "We're joined by our new royal correspondent Victoria Henley-Brown, live from Buckingham Palace. So Victoria, a dramatic few days for the royal family, firstly with various videos surfacing on the internet of Grace Harris in a compromising position, and with this morning's announcement that her and the Prince are going to split. What do you make of it all?" the main anchor asked. Victoria froze, it had been a while since she'd had to think about anything beside her desperate need for relief. "Well, erm, it's obviously a shock. But I think, erm, whilst the TikTok posted by Mel Lancashire was embarrassing for the royal family, the pictures taken of the Prince and Grace involved in, erm, intimate activity on the beach have been utterly humiliating for everyone involved. And I understand it must have been a difficult decision for the couple, but I think their relationship was untenable." Victoria barely stopped for breath, and could not stop shaking. "A lot of people are speculating that the Prince would have been forced into making this decision, what have you been able to find out?" "Well," another wave of intense desperation hit her, and she had to cross her legs to prevent an accident. "The palace themselves have yet to mention the split, and I understand that..." Victoria's bladder had had enough. Her heart rate spiked as she felt a warmth spread across her crotch. The relief was indescribable as the contents of her very, very full bladder emptied. Her face reddened as she tried to continue her report whilst wetting herself. "Ermmmm, Grace and the Prince cut short their time in Mauritius to deal with this incident..." She prayed that the camera wasn't showing her bottom half, but she was pretty sure everyone would have been able to hear the sound of her urine crashing against the ground below. The crew looked on in shock, as Victoria bravely tried to continue with her report. "Erm, and I believe a meeting was held with the Royal Family's Head of Communications earlier today." The relief was so incredible, it took so much effort for Victoria not to moan as ten hours worth of piss flowed out of her. The urine filled up her shoes, whilst a puddle grew rapidly underneath her. This felt like the longest pee Victoria had ever done, and it showed no signs of stopping. "Sorry, Victoria, we're having some issues with the sound quality, could you repeat that?" the anchor asked. "Ahhhhhh," a moan slipped out. "Ermmmm, yes, the Prince and Grace held a meeting this morning with..." "I'm sorry, we're going to have to cut you off there, we're getting some sound interference, apologies to the viewers back home who wanted an update on the news that Prince Thomas has split up with his partner Grace Harris." And with that, she was off air. "Oh fuckkkkkk," Victoria allowed herself to enjoy her relief as urine continued to cascade out of her body. Her trousers were absolutely drenched, and she was pretty sure she'd pissed all over her new Burberry coat. The crew looked away to afford Victoria a bit of privacy, but in truth, they'd seen it all already anyway. Eventually, the stream died down, and the post piss ecstasy died down. Now she stood there, covered in her own wee, humiliated and probably already a laughing stock on the internet. She wanted to ground to swallow her up. Tears welled in her eyes. "Hey hey, come on," Ben hugged the distraught presenter. "Let's get you home." "I can't believe that just happened," Victoria cried. "Never mind that. At least you've got a funny story to tell," Ben laughed. "That story is going with me to the grave," Victoria couldn't yet see the funny side. "Well I'll tell everyone then," Ben smirked, prompting a playful punch from Victoria. "You owe me a takeaway then, since you didn't let me stop at the services," Victoria allowed herself a little smile. "Oh go on then," Ben laughed, as they arrived at the car. "Now let's see if we can find a towel.'
  7. IV Mel Lancashire was a big deal. A very big deal. At just 22 years old, she already had 1 million TikTok followers, her own clothing brand, and had just been named on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list. A stunningly beautiful blonde, it seemed only a matter of time before everyone in the country knew her name. And thanks to the traction her most recent TikTok post was getting, that moment was going to come sooner rather than later. "Good morning guys and girls, hope you're having a great Friday!" Mel's northern voice serenaded Harriet as she opened the post Molly sent. "Boy have I got a story for you... so I was back in Hull yesterday, had a few meetings about a TV show I'm presenting - watch this space! - and I was invited to pop round to the new town hall for a reception with some very famous faces. Anyway, I'd been drinking coffees all morning, and was ABSOLUTELY BUSTING for a wee by the time I got to the hall. Like I was literally shaking I had to pee so badly, my bladder was causing me physical pain." Why the fuck has she sent me this? Harriet thought to herself. "So I waddled to the toilet, basically wetting myself at this point, finally sat my arse down on a toilet and AHHHHHHHHHHH... let me tell you, I have NEVER had moment as enjoyable as that. But then I heard someone else come into the bathroom, they clearly DYING to go. She was breathing really heavily, I could hear her dancing on the spot... and then..." the TikTok cut to a clip, a close up selfie of Mel's face reacting to the woman in the bathroom stall next to her, doing one of the most violent pisses anyone had ever seen. The woman in the video was moaning, and whispering "thank God", clearly massively relieved. "But you will NEVER guess who the mystery pisser was..." the TikTok cut to a selfie of Mel and Grace in the bathrooms, and Harriet audibly gasped. "O fuck", read Harriet's reply to Molly. --- Grace couldn't believe it. Yesterday she was in Hull, now she was in Mauritius, drinking margaritas on a secluded beach. They had a full day of business tomorrow, but for now, she just wanted to unwind after the long plane journey. This was nice. It was just her and Thomas, no engagements, no phones, no holding her pee in for longer than necessary. Having said that, she was starting to feel the familiar urge in her bladder, as the margaritas made themselves known. But for now, she was enjoying her book too much. "Another round," Thomas asked, as Grace finished her second drink. "Are you trying to get me drunk Mr Thomas?" Grace laughed. "Yes please!" Whilst Thomas was getting the drinks, Grace tried to focus on her book, but her bladder was starting to nag. Frowning, she crossed her legs and put her book down. There were toilets in the hotel bar, but she was in her light blue bikini, and didn't want to put her clothes back on to walk through the lobby. Besides, it seemed like a wasted opportunity for some fun with Thomas. Wanting to make herself a bit more desperate, she downed the rest of her water. It took Thomas a while to come back with the drinks, so by the time he came back, she really needed a wee. She lay on her towel, shifting about theatrically as he approached, holding two more large margaritas. "There you are big boy," Grace laughed. "Oh God, it's gone to her head," Thomas mocked, handing her a margarita. "Thanks babe," she took the icy margarita from him. "God, I need a wee so so badly." "Classic Grace," Thomas chuckled. "Sounds like someone needs a tickle." Grace burst into laughter as Thomas tickled her stomach. "Stop I'm gonna wee all over the towels," she cried, clutching her peehole desperately. "Seriously, I'm bursting." Eventually Thomas relented, but Grace now felt twice as desperate as before. She took another sip, as Thomas started kissing her neck, and started moving his hands along her stomach. His fingers meandered their way to the waistband of her bikini bottoms, before sliding their way underneath the fabric. He brushed through her wiry pubic hair, before slowly massaging her vagina. Grace was already wet, her full bladder stimulating her clit. She moaned as Thomas did the same with his middle finger. His cock was rock hard, and almost went off as soon as Grace started rubbing it. She felt as though she was going to explode, and as she came, a long spurt of pee soaked Thomas's fingers. Anxious not to soak the towels, Grace jumped up, startling Thomas. There was no chance of stopping the stream, so she just let it go in her bikini. Urine poured out of her, as her light blue bikini slowly turned a darker shade. Grace moaned as pee ran down both her legs, while Thomas sat there, open mouthed. Once she had finished, she ran into the sea to clean up, very quickly followed by Thomas. --- The two were back in their hotel room, Grace sat naked on the bed, drying her hair post shower, whilst Thomas was in the bathroom. Her phone rang. It was Chris Thompson, the head of Royal Communications. "Hello?" Grace asked. "Hello Miss Harris. We need to fly you back to the UK right away. There's been some developments that you should be aware of..."
  8. III "Come on Molly, let's go," Harriet cried, exasperated. "You and your friend need to piss off now, I don't care who the fuck you are," the overly zealous bouncer demanded. It was Tuesday night, and once again, Princess Harriet and her best friend Molly were at Circle, Edinburgh's lowest rated nightclub. "Yep, I'm trying," Harriet hissed, trying to stop her friend taking a nap on the sticky carpeted floor. "Maybe a little help?" The bouncer grunted, and together, they lifted Molly off the floor. Within seconds, her and Molly were back on the streets of Edinburgh, freezing and drunk. "Here," Harriet grumpily passed Molly a bottle of water. It's fair to say the evening hadn't gone quite as planned. This was meant to be the night Harriet finally plucked up the courage to tell Lucy how she felt about her. And she'd come so close, they'd spent all of pre-drinks talking to each other, and they barely left each other's side on the walk to the club. Whilst she hadn't been brave enough to make a move, she definitely picked up a vibe that Lucy was interested too. Between the constant eye contact, the nervous hair touching and the closeness of their dancing together, Harriet sensed that it was only a matter of time before they kissed. It was in the queue for the toilets that things started to go wrong. Her best friend Molly had had too much red wine at pres, and decided to redecorate the wall next to the loos with a considerable amount of claret-coloured vomit. Now she was outside, and Lucy was very much inside. She didn't even get a chance to piss. "Come on then, let's get you home," Harriet held the hand of her drunk companion, making sure she didn't run off like she sometimes did when drunk. The walk to Molly's flat was about half an hour away, and Harriet lived a further ten minutes away. But with Molly in the state she was, Harriet sensed that the journey was going to take significantly longer. Bad news for Harriet's bladder. It had been a while since she'd used the loo, she did a safety wee at Lucy's flat before going to the club, but that was two hours ago. She'd been desperate for quite a while, but she held off going because she didn't want to waste a minute in Lucy's company. "How did it go with Lucy?" Molly asked. Or at least that's what Harriet thought she asked, her slurred speech becoming very difficult to decipher. "It WAS going really well, thanks," Harriet replied through gritted teeth. "What happened then?" Molly asked. "Oh you know, the usual, too scared to actually embrace my own sexuality," Harriet murmured. "Hey can we sit down again, I don't feel too good," Molly's face matched the colour of her white trousers. "Urghhh do we have to, I need a wee sooooo badly," Harriet protested. "Just piss down there," Molly gestured towards an empty alleyway. "I'll keep guard." Harriet looked around. It was pretty tempting. "First of all, I don't trust you to keep a lookout in your current state, given you've walked into about 12 bollards since we left the club. Secondly, you know I can't do that. All it takes is one person to see me, and suddenly there's a picture of me doing piss on every shit rag newspaper in the country, with some dreadful forced pun like "royal-wee" or something." Molly nodded, then proceeded to projectile vomit all over the pavement. Harriet tried to be sympathetic, keeping Molly's hair out of the way, and patting her on the back. She couldn't help but shift from foot to foot on the spot, as her bladder continued to protest. After Molly coughed up the last few bits of sick, Harriet passed her the water, and the two continued to walk. "How far is it? I'm busting for a piss," Molly complained. "Me too, just another few minutes," Harriet lied. "Ah fuck that, I'm not waiting that long," Molly protested. Before Harriet could say anything, a dark patch appeared on Molly's crotch, slowly growing and spreading down towards her bum and legs. An explosion of urine crashed against the pavement, and Harriet now had to openly hold herself to stop a similar thing happening to her. "Ahhhhhh it feels so nice," Molly sighed, as the seemingly never stopping stream of piss kept on coming. Harriet squirmed uncontrollably on the spot, bladder ready to explode. Once Molly had finally stopped wetting herself, the two continued their walk, one with a very empty bladder, and one with a bladder full to the brim. The next ten minutes were torture for Harriet, as the urine sloshed around her dangerously full organ. She'd never needed a wee so badly in her life. She hated being a royal so much. Here she was, in a position that every single girl at university will find themselves in, yet she was forced to wait for an actual toilet for her relief. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd watch her friends urinate in unusual places, whilst she had to just wait there, bursting. She'd seen friends piss behind bins, in bushes, on the hard shoulder, everywhere. She'd felt so bad for her brother's girlfriend, Grace, when she wet herself at dinner, as she knew full well how good your bladder control needs to be to survive in the royal family. After what felt like an age, she was at Molly's door. As she rang the doorbell, she pressed her hand against her crotch, in the name of suppressing the tidal wave inside her. A flatmate who Harriet didn't recognise opened the door. "Are you..." the flatmate asked. "Yes. Molly's had quite a bit to drink, so just thought I'd check she got home safely. Can I..." Harriet asked, keeping her legs tightly crossed the entire time. "Has she pissed herself?" the flatmate asked, looking at the wet patch on Molly's trousers. "Yes. Please can I use the toilet?" Harriet begged, as she felt a drop of pee leak out. "I'm really sorry, Simon just got in the bath," the flatmate looked sympathetically at Harriet's obvious predicament. "If you like, I can ask him to get out?" "No no, it's fine, I'll hold it," Harriet lied. "Sleep well," she kissed Molly on the forehead. Once the door closed, Harriet wanted to scream. Her bladder was now causing her physical pain, all she could think about was her overwhelming need to urinate. Another spurt leaked out, leaving a spot the size of a 50p coin on the crotch of her light blue jeans. She simply wouldn't make it home. Almost crying from the burning sensation in her urethra, she hobbled towards the park opposite Molly's house. Was she really about to piss in public? She didn't have a choice, as a small trickle of wee started to run down her leg. She practically tore her light blue jeans off, pulled her panties down to her ankles and let the river run out of her. It felt so unnatural, Harriet had never peed anywhere but a toilet in her life before. At first, her bladder refused to yield, leaving Harriet in absolute agony. She finally relaxed enough to urinate, as an unholy amount of piss left her body. Not knowing how to position herself, her ankles and the cuffs of her jeans ended up getting hit by small flecks of wee, not that she cared at all. The relief was so great she wanted to cry, as residual pain in her bladder reminded her how much she'd stretched her limits. Some girls coming home from a night out walked past, but Harriet couldn't stop, not halfway through the greatest piss of all time. She ducked her head, and thankfully, the girls didn't seem to notice who she was. "Woooooo, yeah you go piss girl!" one of the drunker girls shouted, which made her feel strangely empowered. Harriet wanted to reply, but kept her silence to maintain her anonymity. Eventually, her bladder was empty. Unable to wipe, she pulled her panties and jeans up. Her panties were pretty damp with pee anyway. --- Harriet awoke, dying for a piss. She'd followed her normal post night out ritual of downing 2 pints of water before bed. It hadn't worked this time, her head still felt fuzzy, but her bladder felt as though it was going to explode. She slept naked, so searched frantically for something she could use to cover herself. An intense wave of desperation told her she didn't have time. Desperately hanging on to her crotch, she checked that the bathroom door was open, before sprinting across the hallway. Locking herself in and throwing her naked arse down on the porcelain seat, she sighed as she released a very full stream of urine. Whilst she had enjoyed her wild wee last night, it felt good to be using a toilet again. As she continued to void the 2 pints of water from her system, she took the opportunity to check her phone. A message from Lucy showed up, sent at 4:12am. "Hey had loads of fun last night, sorry you had to leave early! Had been looking forward to getting to know you some more 😏" A second text immediately followed: "omg ignore me I'm drunk sleep well and see you soon xxx" Harriet smiled. As she crafted a reply, a text came in from Molly. "hey haz, thanks so much for looking after me last night, can't believe I pissed myself lmao. just saw this on tiktok, thought you'd probably want to see it..." Intrigued, Harriet clicked the link, watching open mouthed as an influencer in her 20s shared a story that was going to create a massive storm for the Royal Family.
  9. II No-one had told Grace how boring being a Princess was. Maybe if they had, she would have ghosted Thomas after the first date. Yesterday, a four hour lunch with the President of Malta, a man who made sandpaper seem interesting in comparison. Today, a trip to open the brand new town hall in Hull. It was February, freezing, and she'd spent what felt like hours listening to the mayor blather on about Hull. She was sat on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs that feel like they could collapse at any moment, Thomas to her left, and the MP for Hull on her right. Her outfit was not adequately protecting her from the chilly wind, but she looked stunning, as always, in her navy blue coat, black jumper, grey skirt and tights. Unfathomably bored, her mind started to drift to the events of that morning. --- "Oh fuck, hurry up, I'm about to explode," Grace moaned, as Thomas continued to thrust inside her. She lay on the bed, knees against her chest, and stomach bulging, barely able to contain herself whilst Thomas's cock continued to flirt with her dangerously full bladder. Grace had woken up bursting for the toilet, as always. Thomas had woken up horny, as always. Her trip to the bathroom was initially delayed by cuddles and kisses from Thomas. "I'm so desperate for a wee," she whispered in his ear, feeling his penis stiffen against her bum instantly. When she wet herself at Windsor Castle, now five months ago, she discovered that the Prince of England had a massive piss fetish. And truth being told, she found that she quite enjoyed it as well, the feeling of desperation, the risk of wetting, and the eventual orgasmic relief. As Thomas neared his climax, he massaged Grace's clitoris, almost pushing her over the edge. A hot jet of piss leaked out and soaked his penis, sending him into ecstasy. Both groaned uncontrollably as Thomas filled her. He collapsed on the bed, and Grace, unable to hold it any more, straddled his chest, and relieved herself. The Prince almost came again as he felt Grace's hot urine cover his chest. She moved her whole body back, making sure to cover his entire body in piss, before sitting on top of his tired dick, and finishing the job, orgasming again as she did so. "You're so fucking amazing," he panted breathlessly, as Grace's stream died down. --- Grace smiled at Thomas, sat next to her. She could tell he was pretending to be interested in what the mayor of Hull had to say, nodding in all the right places. Six hours ago, he was covered in her piss. Grace couldn't help but let a smile escape - the Prince was kinky as fuck, and no one else in the world knew. They probably all thought they were both still virgins. How wrong they were. A particularly cold breeze hit Grace, and with it, reminding her that it had been a long time since she'd used the toilet. She remembered Prince Florence's words "Princesses don't pee." She was right, she found that opportunities to use the loo were few and far between during any royal engagement, so it felt like she spent half her life dying for a wee. She also found that she was always being offered cups of tea, which other members of the Royal Family had always encouraged her to take, as to not appear rude. She'd peed on the train before they got out at Hull, but that was three hours ago now. Or rather two large cups of tea ago and most of her water bottle ago. She'd meant to pee before she went on stage, but their security guards had informed them that they were already running late and so she wouldn't have time. To be honest, there was something she found a bit sexy about being told when she can and can't urinate by a six foot five security guard, but on this occasion, she was frustrated by the lack of opportunity to piss. She crossed her legs, and hoped that the mayor would finish his spiel soon. How wrong she was. The mayor continued to ramble on and on, with Grace getting increasingly more desperate to go. The cups of tea now rested very uncomfortably in her bladder, and she yearned to run off the stage, find the toilet, rip her panties and tights off, and let go. Yet she was also very aware that there were cameras everywhere, and she couldn't make her desperation too obvious. The Daily Mail had already got three articles out of a speech she'd done a few weeks ago where she kept shaking and looking towards the door. Their 'body language' expert had concluded that Grace didn't have the confidence to be a Princess, when in reality, she had just been absolutely busting for the loo. A round of applause erupted. Finally, Grace thought. She adjusted her skirt, bracing herself to stand up and feel gravity pull her bladder towards the floor. However her joy was short lived as a short, curly haired woman took to the podium. "And now, please welcome the Hull Youth Orchestra," the MP for Hull introduced. "I didn't know about this," she hissed at Thomas. He meekly mouthed sorry in response. Grace inwardly sighed. The situation was getting desperate, not helped by the freezing weather. As the orchestra clattered into a shambolic rendition of the Indiana Jones theme, Grace wondered if her relationship with Thomas was worth it. She squirmed in her seat, and crossed her legs slightly tighter. Her brain had been tricked into thinking she was moments away from being able to urinate, and now the urges felt twice as bad. "Are you okay?' Thomas whispered, noticing her discomfort. "I'm dying for a wee," Grace replied, knowing that his cock was going to be rock hard after that admission. "Like properly bursting," she added. She probably shouldn't have said that. Giving a prominent member of the Royal Family a boner during a performance by a Youth Orchestra wasn't the smartest idea. Thomas took a moment to watch his girlfriend wriggling uncontrollably in her seat, before remembering where he was, and sympathetically smiling instead. It was during Star Wars that things started to turn. As the orchestra butchered another John Williams classic, Grace gasped as she felt a spurt of pee dampen her previously pristine panties. Her bladder was full to capacity, and begged to be emptied. Grace knew she couldn't hold it, trying to remain calm as another bit of wee escaped her aching urethra. FUCK FUCK FUCK! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING, Grace thought to herself. I can't be about to wet myself... in fucking Hull of all places. She had no choice. Standing up, she felt more pee escape her body. Praying that there wasn't a wet patch on her skirt, she walked off the stage as naturally as her bursting bladder allowed her to. The performance of the orchestra collapsed even more as the conductor and a few of the trumpeters looked round to see what was going on. Now inside the town hall and out of sight, she clutched her crotch, and picked up the pace. The desperation was overwhelming, every step threatened to detonate her bladder which felt as though it was about the rupture. Her heart raced as she came to the disabled toilets - she'd been told she wasn't allowed to use public toilets any more as it was undignified for other people to hear a princess use the bathroom. Locked. Grace wanted to cry as her resolve began to weaken, as a small stream of piss flowed down her leg. She somehow managed to stem the flow, but she knew she didn't have long left. The women's toilets were opposite. This was her only option. Well, other than wetting herself. As she darted in, she tried to drown out the sound of the pee stream of the woman in the other cubicle. Grace darted into the free cubicle, frantically removing her coat. She danced on the spot as she pulled her tights and knickers down, before... "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh," Grace couldn't help but moan as she relieved the small lake that had been brewing inside her. She forced herself to be quiet as she remembered the girl in the other cubicle, but her eyes rolled back heavenward whilst her bladder slowly deflated. She'd never done such a forceful pee in her life, accompanied by a tremendous hiss that sounded like someone was frying chicken. After what felt like several minutes, Grace's bladder was emptied. She wiped herself, pulled up her slightly damp panties and tights, and hitched her skirt back down. Trying to avoid eye contact with the girl from the other cubicle, she washed her hands. "Oh my God, are you..." the girl asked. "Yeah I am," Grace replied, smiling. "Hey uh, can I get a picture?" she asked. Grace looked bemused, she'd not taken a picture inside a women's bathroom since she bumped into some of her old school friends in Klute last year. "Yeah, sure," she nodded. "Thanks!" she took the selfie. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you were busting for a pee." Grace blushed, "thank you I appreciate that. Anyway... I'd probably get back. Nice to meet you though!" As she left the toilets, she checked for a wet patch. Thankfully nothing was visible. Returning to the stage, she couldn't help but think about all the things Thomas was going to do to her when she told him this story.
  10. I Grace Harris checked her long blonde hair in the mirror, anxiously adjusting it for the seventeenth time that hour. She'd been on plenty of dates before, but this was the first time she'd felt physically sick from the nerves. Taking a selfie, she sent a picture of her wearing her new red jumpsuit to the Whatsapp group of her friends from school. "Too much tit?" she mused. Within a minute, she had replies from everyone in the group: "FITTTTTTT" "Dayummmm" "🥵" "Mate ur tits are incredible" "Be my wife?" Grace smiled, she could always rely on her own personal hypewomen to boost her self-confidence. It had been a whirlwind few months for Grace. Ever since she was papped by the Daily Mail kissing the second in line to the throne of England, she couldn't even pop to the pub without being mobbed. Grace had had a fairly normal upbringing. She lived in a small village in Lincolnshire, got three As in her A-Levels from the local comprehensive school, and had just graduated from Durham University from a 2:1 in English literature. It was at a graduation party when she met Prince Thomas. She obviously knew he was a student at Durham. Like everyone, she'd sent sneaky videos of him to the family group chat the first few times she saw him in town. Eventually the novelty wore off, but when she saw him at Cassie's house party on graduation night, she finally plucked up the courage to talk to him. *** "So... what are you gonna do with your life now you've graduated," Grace smirked, slurring her words slightly as the alcohol took hold. "Oh, you know, probably move back in with the parents, and look for grad schemes. You?" the prince smiled cheekily, and Grace melted slightly. "Oh I'm just gonna sit around, enjoy my fortune, and wait for my grandma and dad to die so I can rule the country," Grace laughed, before noticing the Prince looking around nervously. "I'm sorry, that was a shit joke... I've had about ten tequilas." "It's fine, it's just nice to have someone speak to me like I'm a normal person," the Prince sighed. "Awww is the little pwince sick of all his arse-kissing buddies," Grace mocked him. "Fuck off!" the Prince laughed. "Can I get you another drink?" The rest of the night was a blur for Grace. According to what she could piece together from friends, she chundered all over the kitchen, called the royal family "a bunch of racist parasites", and ran away from the Prince when he tried to get her a glass of water. The next day, she surprisingly awoke in her own bed, fully clothed. The bedroom stank, and her jeans felt itchy on her skin. She realised she had wet herself at some point as well. Head pounding, she groaned as she reached her phone. 174 messages on her uni group chat, and a message from an unknown number. She opened the group chat, but closed it immediately when she saw a photo of her getting off with her ex. Can't wait for the repercussions of that one, she thought. She was more intrigued by the message from a stranger. "Hey, hope you're okay and your head doesn't hurt too much today. Was nice talking to you last night, hope to see you again soon! T." Grace thought back to that evening. Who the fuck is T? Surely not Prince Thomas? Could be Theo from her course. Seemed unlikely, as this was a polite and courteous message, and Theo was a well-renowned dickhead. "Urgh thank you, pretty sure I'm going to be clinging to the bog for most of the day aha. Who is this btw? Don't have ur number saved lol" Grace pressed send and then cringed at the thought of sending the word 'bog' to the future King of England. Within minutes, a reply. "Thomas. Or a 'posh bellend profiting off centuries of colonial violence', as I think you called me last night lol." Her face reddened, as parts of last night came flooding back. She moaned and held her head in her hands, almost as if she hoped she'd wake up to find it was all some bad dream. Alas. "omg!!!!! I'm so sorry!!!! Had way too much to drink last night hahaa, promise I didn't mean it x" Another speedy reply. Bit keen, she thought. "No worries, just glad you're okay. Would love to get a coffee when you feel up to it x" *** Five months later, she was preparing to meet Thomas's grandmother and parents for the first time, and it was time to leave. Grace grabbed her makeup bag from the bathroom and took one last opportunity to check herself out. Do I have to pee? she thought. She sort of did, but she knew that getting out of her jumpsuit and putting it back on was going to take time. Time she didn't have. The car was already waiting outside, and she didn't want to keep the Royal Family waiting. Despite her views on the family, she had fallen completely in love with Thomas, and was willing to put her politics aside. She left her hotel room and headed to the car that had been sent for her. As she strapped the seatbelt on, she realised her need to urinate was worse than she first thought. Nonetheless, the drive to Windsor was only half an hour. Grace put some AirPods in and watched some TikToks to try and distract from her nerves and her bladder. The journey went by smoothly, but as they pulled into Windsor, her anxiety spiked. "Five mins away, I feel like I'm going to be sick and I'm desp for a wee!" she messaged the Whatsapp group. "Classic Grace and her tiny bladder," one friend replied. "Piss urself, ultimate power move," another added. Another just sent the 'Go piss girl' meme. Grace smiled at the funny, but ultimately incredibly unhelpful advice. She crossed her legs tightly, and hoped that they had a loo close to the door at WIndsor Castle. As the car approached the grounds, Grace's stomach started doing backflips, whilst it felt like she could feel her bladder filling up at an alarming speed. She'd never been this nervous ever, this topped everything, all the crucial exams, the piano recitals, the sports fixtures. Before, Thomas was her lovely university student boyfriend, who she went on nice walking dates with, dates which normally ended with them going home to watch Peep Show and drink cheap wine. More often than not, Thomas was inside her by the time the end credits came round. Now, he was Prince Thomas, second in line to the throne, and member of the most famous family in the world. Surreal was not the word. Grace's friends had already joked about who would play her on The Crown. The consensus was Phoebe Dynevor, which she didn't hate. She saw Thomas stood outside the door, and instantly felt more at ease. Her stomach calmed down, though her desperate need to pee remained. Thanking the driver, she stood up, feeling the full weight of her bladder as she did so. "Hello you," Thomas smiled, kissing her softly. "Hello you," Grace reciprocated, holding the Prince in a tight embrace. "How was the journey?" he asked. "Not too bad thanks. Hey, do I look okay?" she asked. "Look at you, trying to impress a bunch of racist, parasites," Thomas smirked, which was met with a playful push from Grace. "You look absolutely beautiful." "Are you sure this isn't too much?" she asked, referring to her dark red jumpsuit. "It looks stunning," Thomas smiled. "Can't wait to rip it off later though," he added with a tone of voice that made her want to mount him there and then. Right after she'd used the toilet. Now inside the castle, Grace was too in awe of the lavish surroundings to talk. They passed several doors along the corridor, any of which could have led her to relief. But instead, they came to a halt right at the end of the corridor. "Are you ready?" Thomas asked, smiling. "No," Grace replied. "Tough shit," Thomas laughed, opening the door. The door led to a large room, with four long burgundy sofas, a table of drinks manned by two butlers, and a grand piano in the corner. The ceiling looked as though it went on for miles, and the room struck Grace as unnecessarily large for a meeting of close family. A butler smiled as he passed the two of them a glass of champagne. Waiting to meet Grace was Thomas's dad, better known as Prince Henry, a shy man who stood anxiously next to the drinks table. There was also his mum, the glamorous and intimidating Princess Florence, and Thomas's younger sister, Princess Harriet, who looked like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Thomas's grandad, Prince Francis, was also there. Thomas had warned her that the two of them would disagree on pretty much any political issue, so to try and avoid the topic completely. There was one notable absentee from the group, Queen Sophie. "Erm, good evening Grace and so lovely to meet you," Prince Henry led the greetings. Grace curtsied, and instantly hated herself. You fucking Tory, she thought. She thought she felt a drop of wee escape as she curtsied, but she might have imagined it. "The Queen has been held up on royal business, but should be with us very shortly." "So lovely to meet you, your royal highness," Grace replied. Ugh, I sound like a Southerner. "This is my wife, Florence," Henry added. "Hello darling, don't worry, you'll get used to this faux formality soon enough," she winked. Grace smiled. Florence had always struck her as one of the more relatable royals. "And this is our daughter Harriet." "Hi," Harriet waved, barely making eye contact. "Nice to meet you," Grace's bladder reminded her of its presence once again, as she struggled to maintain composure. "And this is my father, Francis," Henry sounded relieved to be done with the introductions. "What a fantastic outfit you have on, I might see if we can get some of the younger staff here to wear the same," Francis clasped Grace's hand in his, and she could tell that he was staring at her tits. Grace laughed awkwardly, and felt slightly disappointed that no-one challenged his comment. She found it difficult not to squirm in place, as she longed to release her pent up urine. But she knew she'd have to wait until she'd met the Queen before going. Meet Queen of England, urinate, socialise. That was the game plan for the evening. --- Grace clenched everything as the butler poured her a third glass of champagne. The trickling of the alcohol against the glass was torture for her bladder which was now full to the brim with urine. 45 minutes had passed since she was told the Queen would be here shortly. Desperate wasn't the word anymore, Grace simply had to get to a toilet soon, or else a very expensive jumpsuit was going to be ruined. "You okay babe," Thomas asked, noticing her pained expression. He'd barely been able to speak to her alone since they arrived. "I'm absolutely bursting for a wee," Grace cried, crossing her legs tightly as they sat on the sofa together. "Oh no, is it worse than on Scarfell Pike?" he asked. A few weeks ago, she had to use the men's loos at the Scarfell Pike car park because there was a queue for the ladies and she couldn't hold on. "About twice as bad," Grace moaned. "I promise she'll be here any minute, just hold on," he insisted. "If she's not here in five minutes, I'm going to have to go. I feel like I'm going to explode," she hissed. Thomas nodded sympathetically. The longest five minutes of Grace's life went by, and still no sign of her majesty. Her bladder felt like a ticking time bomb, that would detonate with the slightest of pushes. The pain was so intense she wanted to cry. This far surpassed when she was stuck on the M25 for six hours after two coffees, or when she saw a three hour film on a first date and forgot to use the loo beforehand. "I'm sorry, I can't hold it any longer," Grace gingerly stood up, exhaling deeply as she felt all the weight of her bowling ball bladder dragging her towards the floor. Some wee leaked as she stood, Grace was certain of that this time. "Ah Grace, may I introduce you to Her Majesty Queen Sophie?" Prince Henry announced. Grace froze, as the Queen of England walked slowly towards her. She was shorter than Grace had imagined, but looked in good health for an 80 year old. "Your majesty, it is an honour to meet you," Grace curtsied. Instant regret. A much longer spurt of wee escaped, which surely would be visible if anyone looked closely enough. Here she was meeting the Queen, and she could feel her own piss running down her legs. This was bad. Very bad. "Thank you, Grace, I've heard a lot about you! I can't wait to chat... are you alright?" the Queen asked. Grace was no longer able to hide her need, and had resorted to shifting from foot to foot to keep herself dry. Well, relatively dry. "Erm, to be honest with you, I really need to use the toile.... bathroom!" Grace's face turned the colour of her jumpsuit, but at least she remembered that the royals don't like to use the word 'toilet'. "Right of course," the Queen seemed bemused. "Bernard? Could you escort our guest to the lavatory please?" she gestured towards one of the butler's. "Thank you!" Grace felt pathetically grateful. Every step was agony as she followed Bernard, and her face felt lava hot with embarrassment, knowing that the most important people in England all knew she was on the verge of wetting herself. Once out of the room, Grace dropped all pretence of being dignified, and buried her hand into her crotch. "Sorry about this Bernard," Grace weakly excused herself, as another leak escaped. "Blimey, you look ready to pop," Bernard laughed. "The loo's just through there." Grace didn't even thank him. She slammed the door shut, and desperately started removing her jumpsuit. Reaching the zip at the back was hard enough, let alone when she couldn't stand still. The urge was uncontrollable now, as a long slither of urine gained freedom. The crotch of her jumpsuit was now at least three shades darker than the rest. The sight of the toilet was agonising for Grace's bladder, as she tried her best to ignore the signals from her brain telling her to relieve herself. Dancing frantically, battling with a zip that seemed to be held in place with superglue, she lost the battle. She yanked the zip down but it was too late. A small river of urine violently escaped Grace's urethra, pooling in her panties, before running in rivulets down each leg, and trickling into her high heels. Grace sighed as all the pressure of the last few hours disappeared, and the balloon inside her slowly deflated, but the relief only slightly outweighed the intense embarrassment. After snapping out of her trance like stupor, and realising the pee was about to seep through the door, she managed somehow to stem the tide. Ripping the rest of her body suit and knickers off, she ran to the toilet to finish the rest of her wee in there. Grace had run through this night many times in her head before, but in none of her visions did she end up stark naked on the toilet, next to a jumpsuit covered in piss. She had lots of explaining to do. *** "Thank you so much for having me," Grace smiled timidly, wearing a blue dress that Princess Florence had packed with her. "Have a safe drive home," Prince Henry replied, looking shell shocked from the evening's events. "And thank you for the dress, I'll return it as soon as possible," Grace whispered. "Don't worry about it honey," Princess Florence leaned in. "I've been doing this princess thing for thirty years now, I promise it gets easier. You'll soon learn that princesses don't pee," she winked. Grace nodded, hoping her eyes didn't betray her fear. But I always have to pee, she thought. "I'll call you later," Thomas barely made eye contact with Grace. "I'm sorry," Grace's eyes filled with tears. "We'll talk later," Thomas hugged her. Grace climbed into the back of the car, humiliated and not sure what the future held for her and Thomas. Putting her AirPods in, she whacked a playlist on and tried to forget about everything that just happened.
  11. Santiago, Chile Carla Garin wiped another bead of sweat from her forehead, wrinkled by the stress of working in Chile's busiest hospital. The aircon was faulty - again, and staff shortages meant that Carla was doing the job of three people - again. Her shift was nine hours old, and she was due a break three hours and 46 minutes ago. Not that she was counting. Her steak sandwich remained in her locker, uneaten, next to her can of Coca-Cola Zero. Desperate for a drink, Carla glugged from her water bottle, making sure to make use of the rare moments she had to herself. It was the sixth year of Carla's seven year medical degree, and she'd been working at Santa Maria hospital since last week. In that week, she'd been bled on, pissed on, shat on, vomited on, had a patient die on the operating table, saved a man's life, rescued an aubergine stuck up someone's arse, cried 20 times, thrown up twice, and held her pee for an unhealthy amount of time every day. No week had brought her closer to the brink of giving up than this one. But she'd come too far, dealt with too much shit to let go of her dream. As she finished her water bottle, she tried to remember the last time she went to the toilet. She suspected it was when she left her tiny one bedroom flat to come to work, now seven hours ago. "Carla, scalpel!" her senior doctor demanded. "Fucking now!" Carla snapped out of her dazed stupor and remembered the task at hand: making sure this lady's appendix is removed safely. She sometimes felt like a rabbit in the headlights when working in A&E, helplessly watching whilst other more senior surgeons do the hard work. She felt a desperate pang in her bladder, could she just excuse herself to go to the bathroom? She'd seen other doctors do it, but she felt a need to prove herself, that she can hold her urine longer than anyone else. She grew up in a house with three brothers and two sisters, with only one bathroom, so she was more than used to holding her pee in. She remembered countless times where her bladder had been stretched beyond what she thought was hospital because one of her siblings had decided to take a two hour long bath, or when she'd wake up, on the verge of exploding, only to find herself seventh in a queue of seven. It was rare that she shared a room with a more impressive bladder. And yet her senior doctor, Julia Gonzalez, was so well known for her pee holding ability, that she knew about her before even starting at the hospital. Everyone at a Chilean medical school knew the legend of Julia Gonzalez. How she would charm every single patient she worked with, yet be utterly terrifying to anyone who worked with her. How she seemed to never tire, even after twenty-five years working at the same hospital. But it was her bladder capacity that everyone always spoke about. Some say she'd never used the toilets in the hospital, even after a twelve hour shift. Others say she once worked for twenty four hours, without peeing, eating or sitting down. There was even one story about how a junior doctor went to use the bathroom stall next to her, after Julia had finished seventeen hour shift, where she peed for four minutes straight with 'so much force that she could have broken the toilet bowl in two. Carla had been working with her for a week now and had yet to see her use the toilet, or even show any need to. She remembered a few days ago, they both finished a ten hour shift - Carla was absolutely dying for a wee, so ran to the loo as soon as she could. When she came out, Julia rolled her eyes at her, grabbed her bag and drove herself home. --- An hour later, the operation was done, and Carla's bladder felt significantly heavier. She resisted the urge to squirm, but she desperately hoped she'd be able to nip out quickly to relieve herself. The heat was stifling, and Carla had now finished three water bottles, on top of the large coffee she had on the way to work. She longed to rip her scrubs off, and release the torrent of urine that sat in her bladder, knocking on the door of her urethra with increasing urgency. Julia must have noticed Carla's discomfort. "New girl, go pee. We don't want your baby bladder causing any more mess in here," Julia smirked. Carla's face reddened, disheartened by her mentor's harsh words, and the laughs of the other doctors in the room. Her eyes welling with tears, she left the operating theatre without saying a word. She couldn't believe that someone she respected so much would speak to her like that, to humiliate her in front of her colleagues. Were she not so desperate, she'd have responded with a sassy comeback, but the fullness of her bladder was affecting her brainpower. Her peehole quivered as she saw the sign for the ladies toilets, but she resisted the urge to sprint towards relief. "Excuse me?" a little girl, no older than eight, interrupted Carla. Carla clenched everything "Are you okay gorgeous?" "Can you help me find my mummy, I've lost her," the girl cried. Carla forced herself to park her own desires for a minute. "Of course, do you remember where she was?" Having this conversation so close to the toilets was torture for her aching organ, now perilously close to an explosion. She bent down slightly to speak to the child, and had to clench everything to avoid wetting herself there and then. She had no choice but to hold herself. "We were waiting for my dad to get out, I think we were over here somewhere," the girl pulled Carla towards one of the waiting rooms. They checked waiting room after waiting room, with Carla growing increasingly more exasperated. Her distended bladder was absolutely bursting with urine, and every step was torture. Carla was pretty sure her panties were damp, but she couldn't tell whether it was her pee, or her sweat. Yet she had to pretend everything was fine to the upset little girl, who was just looking for her mum. After what felt like hours, they eventually found a teary and very grateful mother. "Thank you so much," the mother squeezed Carla tightly, causing an involuntary yelp, as a spurt of piss escaped her exhausted urethra. She was sure that anyone who looked would see a streak of dark blue on the turquoise leg of her scrubs. Carla didn't even say anything to the mother, she just ran, as quickly as she could, to get to the toilets. Finding the closest bathroom, she locked herself in, practically ripping off her scrubs, before sitting down on the toilet, too tired to even pull her panties down. She groaned as her bladder started to slowly deflate, feeling her panties fill with warm piss, and hearing it hit the basin of the toilet with an almost comical loudness. She ignored someone desperately banging on the door outside as she felt bliss, all the pain of the past eleven hours melting away. When she could pee no more, she pulled her panties off, placing them in the bin, before pulling her scrubs up and washing her hands. Opening the door, she saw something no one knew was possible. It was Julia Gonzalez, standing outside the toilet, red faced and head down. She'd wet herself, on a corridor occupied by doctors and patients alike. "I'm sorry Julia, that was nearly me," Carla showed fake sympathy towards her senior. "Baby bladder," she added under her breath.
  12. Lagos, Nigeria "Ade, come on, we're going to be late!" Adesewa's mum shouted from downstairs. "Coming!" Ade called back. She checked herself in the mirror, adjusting her vibrant yellow dress, and gently applying some moisturiser to her dark skin. "Hurry up, Ade, I won't let my own daughter make me late for church," her mum yelled. "I'm coming Mama, we won't be late," Ade sighed. Ade had just turned 19, and yet was no closer to being able to move out of her family home. A brutal combination of being unable to afford to leave, and having an overprotective mother meant that she was unhappy, stuck in a cramped house on the outskirts of Lagos. Some of her friends had managed to get out, leaving to travel the world, and go to university in new, exciting places. Instead, she was here, working in a shop 9-5 and going with her mum to church every Sunday morning. Ade hated church, she wasn't even sure if she believed in God, but could never tell her mum that, for fear of breaking her heart. Instead, she sucked it up every week to sit through three hours of hymns, dancing and scripture. As she ventured downstairs, she was greeted by her parents, her younger brother and sister and her grandmother, all looking frustrated at being made to wait. "Oh Ade, do you really think that's appropriate for church?" her mum shook her head disapprovingly, presumably referring to her cleavage clearly on show in her tight yellow outfit. "It's fine Mama, all the girls my age wear stuff like this all the time," Ade rolled her eyes, walking towards the bathroom. "Where are you going?" her father asked. "I need to use the restroom," Ade responded. "No no, we're already late, you'll have to wait," her mum instructed. Ade groaned, but she knew that there was no point arguing. Besides, they had toilets at the church she'd be able to use, and her need was by no means urgent. --- "Ugh, why is this taking so long?" Ade moaned, shifting in the back seat of their cramped Hyundai. "Stop wriggling, you're taking all the space," Ade's seven year old brother complained. "Be quiet both of you. Ade, we wouldn't be stuck in traffic if we'd left when I wanted to," her dad sternly told them. "Sorry papa," the two responded in unison. Ade felt uncomfortable, she'd not used the toilet since she woke up at 5am with a bladder ready to explode. It was 9:30am now and she'd had two cups of tea since then, as well as the water bottle which she kept absent-mindedly sipping from. The pressure was starting to build, causing Ade to twist her legs in her seat constantly. This didn't go unnoticed by her brother. "Ade has to peeee, Ade has to peeee," he taunted in a sing song voice. "Shut up Azi, and respect your elders," she hissed. "That's enough you two. I don't know why you think it's okay to speak like that to each other on the Lord's day, but no more!" her mum yelled. Ade sighed, and tapped her fingers against her legs anxiously, hoping she'd have time to pop to the toilet before the service began. --- The car pulled up at 9:58am, just in time for the 10am service. Ade breathed a sigh of relief, she could pee, then sit through the three hour service in peace. "Be quick," her mum shouted, as Ade dashed to the bathroom. In her haste, Ade attempted to barge through the door to the ladies before reading the sign affixed to the door: "TOILETS LOCKED DUE TO VANDALISM". Ade's heart and bladder sank. While her need was fairly large now, in three hours she'd be beside herself. She thought about joining the small queue for the men's toilets, but she had her dignity. She'd just have to deal with it. "Better?" her mum asked. Ade nodded, not wanting her family to know about her predicament. The six of them took their seats in the middle of the church, and Ade's escape route was quickly blocked by an elderly couple who came to sit down next to them. Ade tried her best to compose herself as the procession came in, resisting the urge to shuffle in her place. As soon as the priests and choir were in their places, everyone sat down, Ade immediately crossing her legs. Tightly. The first hour went by fairly innocuously, but Ade's bladder continued to inflate, and with two hours to go, she was desperate for the toilet. Sitting still was now very hard, and she was sure that the people around her had noticed. The constant standing up and sitting down was doing her no favours, neither was her tight yellow dress. "Mama, I have to pee," she heard Azi whisper. "You can hold it," she told him. "I can't, I can't," he cried. "Okay, papa will take you," she instructed. This was is. Ade saw her chance for relief. "It's okay mama, I'll take him," she said, grabbing his hand. "Come on, let's go!" Now out of view of the congregation, Ade writhed in desperation as she stood outside the men's toilets waiting for Azi to finish. Being able to hear the stream of pee was not helping her situation, and after establishing there was no one watching, she dug her hands into her crotch to stop the pee that was so determined to make its way out. Finally the toilet flushed, and Ade steadied herself. "Okay you stay here with me, I'm just going to pee really quickly," she told her brother. As she started to pull her knickers down, Azi giggled, and darted out of the toilets. "Can't catch me!" he yelled. Ade roared in frustration. She knew what Azi was like, and knew that he'd run away and get lost if she didn't watch him constantly. Reluctantly, she pulled her knickers back up and chased after her brother. Her aching bladder seared with every step, and sweat dripped down her body as she desperately tried to catch up with Azi. Eventually, she caught up with him, tightly grabbing his wrist. "Ade has to peeee, Ade has to peeee," he laughed. "Please Azi, can you promise me you won't run off again? I'm really desperate," she begged, bouncing up and down. "Ade's going to pee herself, Ade's going to pee herself," he giggled. "Shut up you little shit," Ade hissed, feeling a painful reminder of how badly she had to go. "I'm telling mama you said a bad word," Azi grinned evilly. "No, no, please Azi! I'm really sorry, I just really have to go. Do you think you'd be able to let me use the bathroom?" she begged. "No, I want to go inside now," Azi dragged her by the hand back towards the church. Ade's bladder was screaming at her, now absolutely dying for relief. But she knew she couldn't trust Azi to go back to his seat alone, so reluctantly, she took him back inside. --- By the time the service finished, Ade was absolutely bursting. Her bladder was full to the brim with tea and water, to the extent where even just sitting there was painful. When she stood up to leave, it felt as though she had a watermelon resting on her abdomen. Doubling over to try and stem the tide, her mother showed concern. "Ade, what's the matter? You've been acting strangely all service." "I need the bathroom... so badly," Ade could barely speak, worried that focussing on anything but holding it would result in the tsunami inside her bladder leaking onto the church floor. "I thought you went before," her younger sister queried. "It was locked," Ade was on the verge of tears, she'd never felt pain like it. "Go go, quickly, there's toilets in the church hall," her mum ushered her towards the back of the church. Ade's heart sank as she entered the hall to find a massive queue for the bathroom. Presumably all the ladies in the congregation had been holding it the whole time. Indeed, everyone in the queue seemed to range from desperate to bursting. Ade was probably a level above bursting. Ade wanted to cry, and her bladder let out a drop of pee in retaliation, dripping down her legs and into her shoes. She was unable to stand still, dancing frantically on the spot, or else her gorgeous yellow dress would be ruined. A few of the less desperate people noticed her plight and allowed her to skip a few places, at which Ade muttered a weak 'thank you'. Now second in line, she was next to a gorgeous woman of a similar age, who looked in a similar predicament. "Come on, come on," the woman begged, trying her best to ignore the sound of the person currently occupying the toilet enjoying what was clearly a much needed wee. "I'm sorry, I'd let you ahead but I'm literally about to wet myself." Ade nodded. "That's okay." "Oh my God I think a bit just leaked out," she whispered. "I'm sorry, too much information." "Don't worry, I'm about to piss myself too," Ade whimpered, as a long hot jet of urine left her exhausted urethra. As the toilet became vacant, the woman burst in, forgetting to lock the door. Hearing her start to urinate was more than Ade could take, as she was forced to take drastic action. "I'm so sorry," she said as she barged into the bathroom. The woman gasped and tried to hide her modesty, as she continued to forcefully urinate into the bowl. Seeing only one option, Ade pulled her knickers down, hitched her skirt up and sat on top of the sink. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she exclaimed, as eight hours worth of pee exploded out of her urethra and into the sink. She didn't care that this woman she'd never met was now looking at her naked pussy expelling an extreme amount of piss. This was relief like she'd never felt before, and she loved it. The woman flushed, and stood by the sink, almost in admiration at how much pee she was able to produce. Ade's moans were so loud that people outside were probably wondering what was going in there. She eventually finished, and her new friend passed her some toilet paper to wipe herself. "I'm so sorry, that was so embarrassing, but I couldn't wait a second longer," Ade laughed. "Don't worry about it, I thought I was going to wet myself in the church," the woman laughed. "I'm Omolara by the way." "Adesewa," she replied, smiling. "I'll maybe wash my hands first," she added, laughing. Once the two had cleaned up, they exited the bathroom, to allow a bursting and angry looking woman in. "Well Omolara, maybe I'll see you around," Ade smiled. "Maybe you will," Omolara winked.
  13. Auckland, New Zealand "Oh fuckkkkkk," Annie was practically screaming, as the man she'd only known for a week made her cum for the third time that morning. She gasped frantically as he ejaculated, coating her already soaking pussy in his semen. He kissed her on the forehead, before handing her a tissue, picking one for himself in the process. Annie couldn't remember the last time she'd orgasmed three times in one day. Maybe in the early days of her relationship with Ryan. But that was fifteen years ago now. Fifteen years of mediocre sex. At least it had been until she met Chris. Chris was Annie's equivalent at a rival company. Whilst Annie was the youngest ever CEO of Atella Communications, Chris was in charge of Onyx Waves. A modern day Romeo and Juliet, two rival CEOs shagging behind everyone's back. Including Annie's husband. Excusing herself to pee, Annie felt the familiar pang of guilt. After all, what had Ryan actually done wrong? Apart from being a bit boring. He was a good dad, he rarely shouted and to him, Annie was a goddess. Perhaps that was it, Annie thought, as her body relaxed and a long stream of urine started to slowly pour out of her urethra. They weren't on an even footing at all. Ryan would swim to Italy and back if Annie woke up with a hankering for pizza. Annie resented it when Ryan asked her to turn the lights off in the landing before bed time. Chris was different, and she knew that from the moment their eyes locked in the conference room at the Hilton in Wellington. They'd barely exchanged names before Chris was inside her. Annie felt like she needed to dress up for Chris, she felt she had to watch hours worth of make up tutorials before their secret dates. She shaved her pubic hair for him, something she hadn't done for Ryan since their wedding night. Chris was everything Ryan wasn't: suave, decisive and sexy. After wiping her neatly trimmed pussy, she flushed and washed her hands, before returning back to the bedroom, completely nude. "You can do anything to me after that," Annie whispered into Chris's ear. "Anything." Chris nodded nonchalantly. "Where does your husband think you are?" "He thinks I'm still in Wellington, I told him that I had some more work I needed to do down there," Annie laughed cruelly. "Yeah you've got more work to do alright, eh?" Chris allowed himself a chuckle. "Drink this," he added, handing Annie a 750 ml bottle of water. Annie stared at him blankly, "Why?" "Did you not just say you'd let me do anything?" Chris raised his eyebrow. "Well yeah, I meant sexually," Annie's face betrayed her confusion. "Who says this isn't sexual? You just have to trust me," Chris replied. "Drink up!" Annie downed the water bottle, still not understanding what Chris wanted. In truth, she quite enjoyed the mystery. She'd thought her days of being surprised were long gone, but here she was, having an affair with a strange but beautiful man. "Now why don't you go downstairs and make us some breakfast. I'd like scrambled eggs with chives, and bacon rashers of bacon please, on top of two buttered slices of white toast. Oh and an iced coffee, feel free to get yourself one," Chris grinned. "And they say chivalry is dead," Annie rolled her eyes, yet she felt compelled to do whatever this man asked her to do. She was the youngest ever CEO of her company, and yet now she was making breakfast for her less successful counterpart. Not bothering to get dressed yet, she headed down to the kitchen, giving Chris a good look at her arse at the same time. Annie wasn't much of a chef, her diet mainly consisted of store bought sandwiches and Coke Zero. Occasionally Ryan would cook the two of them sometime, but more often than not, she'd end up reheating it when she returned home late into the evening. After taking a few minutes to navigate her way round the kitchen, she eventually found everything necessary to cook her lover breakfast. "Annie?" a voice called out. "Yeah?" she asked. "Drink another bottle of water," he demanded. "Really? I'm gonna have to piss like a racehorse soon," she laughed. "Now. And I'll know if you pretend," he sternly warned. "What are you gonna do huh?" she called back, stirringly the eggs slightly. "You don't want to know," he replied, without a hint of irony. Reluctantly, Annie downed a second bottle of water, feeling the early signs that her bladder was starting to fill up again. As the last drop ran down her throat, a key started to slowly jiggle in the lock of the door. Quickly, Annie grabbed an apron to cover her naked body, but it was too late, the person standing open mouthed in the doorway had already seen everything. "I'm so sorry, I'll come back later," the cleaner mumbled, trying her best not to make eye contact with the nude businesswoman. "Thank you," Annie weakly replied, embarrassed but slightly turned on. Once the cleaner had left, she poured two mugs of coffee, and served up breakfast. As she returned upstairs holding the tray of food, her eyes widened as she glimpsed Chris attaching hand cuffs to all four corners of the bed. "Put the tray down there," he instructed, pointing to the table by the bed. "Chris... I'm not sure," Annie said apprehensively. "Sorry I thought you said I could do anything? I promise it'll be worth it. I'm going to give you an orgasm so good, you won't be able to walk straight for a month," Chris smiled. "Okay, I'm just gonna go to the bathroom quickly, that water went straight through me," Annie headed towards to bathroom, but Chris's outstretched arm stopped her in her tracks. "No," Chris insisted. Annie's pussy almost convulsed at this display of authority. "But I really have to go," Annie moaned. "You will get to pee. But not yet," Chris promised. "First, I'd like you to put the handcuffs on." "Hmm okay," Annie hopped onto the bed, and stretched her arms and legs out, so Chris could handcuff her to all four corners. Her bladder was starting to fill quickly, and being unable to cross her legs made her ordeal worse. "I'm going to eat breakfast off your body," Chris explained. If you're good, I'll let you have some when I'm done." Annie nodded, feeling her pussy grow wetter and wetter. She gasped as she felt the hot scrambled eggs on her body, and moaned as Chris started eating them, licking them off her massive breasts, before moving down to her stomach. He licked her all over, making sure that every inch of her body was clean. Annie's eyes rolled heavenward, but her bliss was interrupted by the pressure on her abdomen causing her to yelp. "Careful, I have to pee super bad!" Annie moaned. "Drink this," Chris ordered, holding the iced coffee to her lips. Annie raised an eyebrow, "I don't think you understand how bladders work." "Are you going to drink it, or am I going to make you drink it?" Chris asked. "Well since I don't have hands, I don't really have a choice," Annie sighed. Tilting her head to ease the process, Chris climbed on top of Annie, his erect penis resting on her stomach as he slowly poured the entirety of the large glass of iced coffee down her throat. Grabbing an ice cube, he started to gently rub it in circles around her nipples. The sensations of hot and cold on her body were sending her into sensory overload, as well the pressure of Chris's body weight on top of her expanding bladder. She gasped for air as Chris climbed off her, and moved his face down towards her vagina. Her body nearly went into overdrive as he picked up another ice cube, and slowly massaged her clitoris with the corner. "Oh fuck, I need you inside me," Annie begged, her pussy now resembling a swimming pool. She longed to feel Chris's massive penis inside her once more, probing at her full bladder. She felt as though she was going to wet herself as he slowly eased himself inside her. And then it stopped. "I need to go do some work now, I'll see you in a bit," Chris was already putting his suit on. "WHAT. THE. FUCK!" she screamed in between gasps. "You can't leave me like this." "I'll be back soon," Chris waved, before shutting the bedroom door behind him. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD, COME BACK HERE!" Annie begged, her body only able to focus on its desperate need for an orgasm. One touch would do it, and she longed to move her hands, so she could finish the job herself, and have what would surely be the best orgasm she'd ever had. --- Half an hour passed, and while her need to orgasm had died down, she was now desperate for a wee. Being unable to hold herself was torture, as was being able to glimpse the toilet in the en suite. She wriggled around in desperation, hoping that somehow that would free her from the chains. But all she got from that endeavour was sore wrists and ankles. Her bladder had filled rapidly after drinking a litre of water and a large glass of iced coffee, and she was now dying for release. There had been no sign of Chris, and she'd given up shouting for him, not willing to tire out her voice any further. She had tried to reach her phone but it was too far out of reach. Her eyes lit up as the door opened, and her potential salvation walked through. "So sorry babe," he kissed her up and down. "Chris, this isn't funny. I'm dying for a wee and you've just let me here," Annie tried to wriggle free again. Chris clutched her pussy with his left hand, pushing against her peehole. "Does that feel nice?" Annie hated the hold she had over him. "Yes," she reluctantly responded. All the pressure of the last half hour suddenly felt manageable, as he shared the holding effort with her. "On a scale of 1-10 how desperate are you?" he asked. "Hmmm, probably about an 8," she replied. "Sounds like you need some more water then," he chuckled. "No please! I'm already busting, I'll wet the bed," she begged, before he forced the contents of the bottle down her throat. "Can't I just piss in your mouth or something? It's obvious you've got some sort of fetish." "Okay you've caught me. But no, my fetish isn't drinking piss. I love having full bladder sex, just something about the intensity of it, the double relief, there's nothing quite like it," he admitted. "So why not now? I'm already about to piss myself," she complained. "You're not desperate enough. And I'm not desperate enough. But I will be, I've been drinking water downstairs so I reckon in an hour I'll be ready," he replied. "I can't wait that long," she groaned, as she felt a renewed wave of desperation hit her urethra and threaten to leak her piss onto her lover's hand. "Yes you can," he replied. "Because if you don't, I'll tell your husband about what we've been up to this week." Annie's heart sank. "Is this all this is then? Have you just been using me so you can fuck me?" "Don't get me wrong Annie, you're fucking stunning. But this isn't love, I thought we knew it was just sex," Chris's confidence seemed to waver for the first time in Annie's presence. "I don't risk my own marriage for just sex Chris, fucking hell," Annie cried. "Okay look, it's clear we want different things here. If you don't want to do this anymore, then that's fine," Chris relented. "Thank you," Annie replied. "And hurry up, unless you want to change these bedsheets." Chris undid her left hand first, which immediately darted to her peehole. After freeing both her legs, Chris started to unlock the final handcuff when the door burst open. Annie was free but she froze at the sight of four armed men barging their way into the bedroom. The men divided to carry both her and Chris outside, and into the boot of a Land Rover. --- The journey to the warehouse took half an hour, and for the entire journey, Annie's bladder stung with pain. She was beyond desperate now, she was absolutely bursting for a pee. Her bladder was at capacity, and it was only through sheer willpower that she didn't flood the back of the boot. Next to her was Chris, also desperate for the toilet, who had spent most of the journey quietly sobbing and whispering to himself. At least that's what it sounded like through the tape that covered his mouth. Annie was still naked, but she now looked pregnant, as though her bladder had expanded to the size of a basketball. Every speed bump was a threat to her willpower, but she was determined to hold it, at least until she knew what was going on. As the car ground to a halt, a little spurt leaked out of Annie's peehole, making its way down the boot and slightly dampening Chris's trouser leg. The boot opened, and one of the masked men grabbed Chris and through him to the floor. As the four men kicked him repeatedly, he lost control of his bladder, urine jetting uncontrollably through his suit trousers, and out onto the warehouse floor, forming a slowly expanding puddle. As Annie sobbed, a little more urine leaked into the boot of the car. Two of the men stopped beating Chris, and came to the boot of the car. Annie tried to scream, but the tape round her mouth muffled her protests. Jets of pee leaked out of her naked body as they carried her to a chair, and handcuffed her arms. She tightly crossed her legs as the need to pee started to become unbearable. "You fucking bitch!" a familiar voice yelled. The guy removed his balaclava to reveal it was Ryan, the man who she married ten years ago and had two children with. Annie tried to reply but her response was muffled. "What?" Ryan asked furiously. She tried again, before Ryan ripped the tape vigorously. Her bladder throbbed intensely, and the shock of the pain almost opened the floodgates for good. Annie screamed, crossing her legs even tighter. "I said I'm sorry!" "Not fucking good enough," Ryan replied. "Look I know I fucked up, and you have every right to be angry, but this is insane Ryan!" Annie sobbed. Her bladder felt as if it was about to consume her. "I've dedicated my whole life to you, we have fucking kids together, who I look after so you can do the job you love, and this is how you fucking repay me?" Ryan yelled. "I'm really really sorry," she asked. "Please can you let me use the bathroom?" she begged, as the pressure built to intolerable levels. "No," Ryan shouted. "Why the fuck would I do anything to make you feel comfortable?" One of the other masked men chuckled as he turned a tap on. "It didn't mean anything," Annie cried, trying her best to ignore the sound of running water. She looked at Chris, now unconscious and lying in a pool of his own piss. "It was just me being stupid." Her bladder throbbed with a worrying intensity, as she shuffled to try and ease the pressure slightly. "I'm begging you, please let me pee, I've never had to go this bad in my life." Ryan ignored her. "The cleaner this morning, she's the mum of one of Sasha's best friends. She told me everything. And it's not just you, you're nothing fucking special. Apparently she's caught him with three different women this month." Annie sobbed, and a long glug of urine escaped her urethra. "My bladder is about to explode." "He's fucked all our wives," one of the men piped up, before kicking Chris in the face again. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know he was like this,' Annie cried, her resolve finally starting to slip. The urine flowed out her body slowly at first, but then flooded out with intensity. The little holes on the bottom of the chair created a rainfall effect as Annie finally felt relief. Ryan sobbed, unable to handle his emotions anymore, whilst the other three smirked at the woman in front of them, unable to control her own bladder. "Didn't realise they were both such fucking babies," one of the men laughed. "You c*nts are going to have to clean this up later." Annie just held her head down, mortified, but happy to finally be emptying her overflowing organ. The stream eventually slowed to a trickle, and finally stopped. Annie's bladder was empty, but her sense of shame had never been fuller. "Divorce papers will be in the post," Ryan tried to sound authoritative through the tears, before walking away with the other three, leaving the two adulterers in the warehouse alone.
  14. Athens, Greece "Wait, so you pissed yourself?" Cassia Gataki adjusted her flowing blue dress as she spoke to her friend from university over Zoom. Maria met Sabine Meyer studying in London together, and had been very good friends ever since. "Basically. I had to go soooooo so so badly, and the line for the ladies bathroom was too long, so I had to use the urinals," Sabine laughed, a week after her embarrassment in Cologne. "Oh my God, that is so funny! That is so classic Sabine," Cassia chuckled. "That is not classic Sabine," she frowned. "You know how big my bladder is." "Yeah, and I know that when you have to go, you HAVE to go," Cassia goaded her friend. "That's not true," Sabine scoffed. "Uh, the summer ball?" Cassia queried. "I've never seen someone pee so much as you did in that alleyway." "Apart from that," Sabine replied. "On the car to the airport, I thought you were going to pass out," Cassia laughed. "Yeah, well at least I don't have the smallest bladder in the world," Sabine retorted. "Haha, maybe. Speaking of which, I have to pee so badly, I'll call you next week," Cassia squirmed. "Okay girl, love you!" Sabine ended the zoom call. Sat on the toilet, Cassia sighed as she voided her bladder. Sabine was right, Maria did have a ridiculously small bladder. Any road trip longer than an hour would inevitably end in Cassia begging the driver to stop, and all social occasions had to be planned around where the bathrooms were. Still, Cassia found solace in stories like Sabine's, and that even a bladder as strong as hers could struggle. After wiping her neatly trimmed pussy, she flushed, pulled her purple panties up and washed her hand. Looking in the mirror, she adjusted her brown, curly hair, ready to go to work. Despite spending last year doing a masters, she had struggled to find work, so she was working at a beach bar in Athens to pay her rent. She filled up her water bottle, grabbed her keys and headed out the door, ready for her six hour shift. --- The bus had been held up by traffic, and now Cassia was stressing about being late. She'd sent her boss a text, but had no response. It was 4:02, her shift should have started already, yet she was still about a mile away. On top of that, she needed a wee. Her legs were tightly crossed, but the water she had already drunk had gone straight to her tiny bladder. This was one of the most challenging things about her job. There was a toilet, but it was about a five minute walk from the beach hut itself. There had been countless times when her colleague had to cover her so she could dash and relieve herself. On a few occasions, she'd struggled to make it to the toilet without leaking. Her phone pinged, it was Emily, an English girl on her gap year, who had been working with her at the bar. "Cass, where are u? I'm desperate or a wee" That was odd, thought Cassia. Christos should be there now, so why hasn't Emily gone home yet? "Sorry, stuck in traffic, will be a few more minutes." Within seconds, a reply. "Okay pls hurry, I'm bursting." Cassia arrived at the shack to find her colleague desperately dancing on the spot. "So sorry Emily, the traffic was awful!" "That's okay, can you help me take this off? I might actually piss myself," Emily still had the cash belt round her, and there was a customer waiting. "Where's Christos?" Cassia asked, trying to undo the belt buckle, a job made harder by Emily's inability to stay still. "Didn't you hear? He's got COVID, along with everyone else. We're the last two standing," Emily squirmed. "Ahhhhhh, please be gentle, I think a bit just came out." "So are you staying? What if I need the bathroom?" Cassia asked. "I'm sorry, I need to go, I'll see you tomorrow," Emily was already running towards the toilet, and Cassia could have sworn she saw a dark patch on her light denim shorts. Flustered by everything, Cassia would have forgotten she had someone to serve until he gently coughed. "So sorry, what can i get for you?" Cassia snapped into business mode. "2 pints of Peroni please," the young Englishman asked. As Cassia poured, she was reminded again that her bladder was also in need of relief. Once the man had paid and taken his beers, she sent another message to Emily. "Any chance you can come here quickly before you go? I forgot to pee before my shift." Ten minutes passed with a steady stream of customers starting to build up. Normally, it wouldn't be so manic with two of them, but with Cassia manning the bar by herself, and no others open on the beach, it was getting hectic, particularly now people were starting to leave work. Her phone buzzed: "Sorry Cass, only just saw this! On bus back already. Try asking next door." They were next to a food stand selling burgers, but right now, it was too busy for Cassia to even stop and ask the stand next door. And anyway, they looked fairly swamped as well. --- Cassia had now tried to phone her boss 17 times. Her bladder was reaching breaking point, three hours into service. Every pint poured sent a signal to her bladder, reminding it of its fullness. In the heat of the afternoon, she'd got so thirsty that she couldn't help finishing her water bottle, and she'd nearly finished a second one. Normally during a six hour shift, she'd go and pee at least two times, if not three. Yet three hours into this one, she still hadn't gone, despite her being desperate. "Are you okay?" a quiet Italian woman asked, as Cassia looked to the sky in exasperation. "I'm fine, just been a busy day," Cassia lied, as she poured her two pints, once again clenching her pelvic floor muscles with all her might. The woman looked back, unconvinced, before taking the pints and thanking Cassia. Gasping as a drop of wee escaped into her panties, Cassia knew she didn't have long. Her phone rang. "Hello?" Cassia asked. "Hi Cass, it's Christos, how's it going?" he asked. "Why are you only just phoning back? What sort of manager are you? As soon as this shift finishes, I'm reporting all this. I don't care if people have COVID, you can't expect us to work without breaks," Cassia yelled down the phone, now not even caring that she was leaking into her knickers. "Look I fucked up but you don't need to report this. Just finish the shift and I'll give you a raise, how about that?" he asked. "Finish the shift? Christos, I haven't been to the bathroom all afternoon, I can't wait that long," she pleaded, feeling another long spurt run down her legs. "Okay, tell you what, I'll send my daughter down, she can get there in half an hour and finish your shift for you," he negotiated. "Why couldn't she have done that in the first place? Whatever, send her down as soon as possible because I don't think I can hold on much longer," she hissed. Ignoring the wetness in her panties, Cassia continued with her job the best she could, contorting herself into the most awkward positions wherever possible to help hold it in. Her need was obvious, a few customers had even offered to watch the bar for her, but she knew she couldn't do that. She would quit, but she couldn't afford to look for another job. Cassia was in agony, her bladder was screaming for release, begging for the toilet. It was while she was pouring what felt like her millionth pint that day that it finally became too much. Almost as soon as she pulled down on the tap, her bladder gave up the battle. Involuntarily, the contents of her bladder started to slowly spill all over the floor. The customer surely noticed that the sound of pouring liquid continued after she'd finished pouring his beer, but Cassia played it cool, pretending that nothing was going on. Her panties were now completely saturated, so her hot urine splashed all over her legs and feet. Red faced, the customer grabbed his beer quickly, pretending to not know that the server was pissing herself. A few people in the queue decided they'd try and find somewhere else to get their beer, and in the end, there was just one customer left at the bar. "Fuck, and I thought I had to go bad," it was Emily, who had made it to the bar just a little too late. "You have no idea," groaned Cassia. "Fuck it felt so good though. Thanks for coming down anyway." "Hey I know what your bladder is like," Emily laughed. "Sorry I was a bit too late." She kissed her colleague. "I guess I'd better get cleared up then," Cassia was bought back to earth. "Maybe I'll come and help you with that. Don't you need to lock up though?" Emily asked. "Nah. I quit," Cassia announced defiantly, snogging her colleague again. Laughing, the two walked hand in hand towards the bus stop, barely able to contain their excitement for what was certain to be a very fun night.
  15. Cologne, Germany The queue for Bootshaus Club showed no signs of moving. It was 11:30pm, on a cool May evening, and Sabine Meyer and her friends were growing increasingly impatient. The girls had known each other since pre-school, but hadn't had time to meet up properly since the pandemic. All four of them were now working women, but were excited for their first clubbing experience in years, a chance to let their hair down. Sabine was the clear leader of the group, a beautiful, tall blonde, outspoken and now training to be a lawyer. Petra was Sabine's best friend, a much shorter woman with curly, brown hair, who was now a nursery teacher. Mia was quiet, her black fringe giving a mysterious vibe. She worked in a cafe and everyone who walked in fancied her. Lena was the group lightweight, already the most drunk by far. When sober, she was a surprisingly competent nurse. "Oh my God, I have to pee sooooo badly," Lena moaned, bouncing up and down, both due to her bladder and the cold breeze blowing. "Me too babe, I'm not sure I can hold it," Petra winced, theatrically bending down. "Stop moaning girls, we're nearly at the front," Sabine sighed. "I can't, I'm going to wet myself," Petra was almost crying. And with that, she ducked under the red rope, and desperately headed towards the alleyway. "Wait there," Lena called out, clutching herself. A few seconds passed, Mia squirmed on the spot before admitting defeat. "Ugh I can't wait anymore." Sabine shook her head. It always shocked her how small her friend's bladders were. It felt like every time they hung out, Sabine spent half her time waiting for them outside of the ladies room. She wondered how they functioned in their normal jobs, given they seemed to be bursting for the toilet every hour or so. Looking greatly relieved, and ignoring the people behind complaining at their pushing back in the line, the girls returned. "Ahhh that's so much better, was so close to peeing myself then!" Lena exclaimed at a decibel that even people inside the club would have been able to hear. "You girls need to get your bladders checked, seriously. What was that, half an hour since you last peed?" Sabine rolled her eyes. "You know how it is, when you break the seal. Don't pretend you don't have to go too," Petra replied. Sabine shrugged. "Not really." "But how? You've had like three pints, and I've only seen you use the bathroom once this evening," Lena exclaimed. "I guess I just have an iron bladder," Sabine laughed. "So you don't need to go if I do this?" Lena asked, before imitating a hissing sound. Sabine shook her head. "That's ridiculous, I have to pee again already," Petra replied. "She's just pretending she doesn't have to go. She thinks she'll appear weak if she excuses herself to go to the toilet, so she'll just sneak off when no-one's looking," Mia spoke up. Sabine frowned. "That's bullshit Mia, you just can't cope that I have the strongest bladder in Germany." "Oh yeah? Prove it. I bet you can't hold it until we get home," Petra looked her best friend in the eye, gauging her enthusiasm for the challenge. Sabine smirked. "Easy," she replied, shaking Petra's hand to signify her commitment to the challenge. "Oh and we have to stay until closing time," Lena added. --- It had gone midnight by the time they got in. Petra, Mia and Lena all sprinted to the toilets as soon as they got in, leaving Sabine to get some drinks from the bar. 'Don't Care' by Aluna Sky was playing at an earachingly loud volume, that song had become almost impossible to avoid. Sabine would never admit this to the girls, but she was starting to feel an urge to urinate. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have considered joining the girls in the loos, but she was competitive, and refused to admit defeat. "Here you go girls," Sabine passed the girls a double vodka and coke each. "Where's your drink?" Petra asked. "I've drunk it already," Sabine lied. "Bullshit, you're a shit liar," Petra faked indignation. "Don't worry, I'll get you a drink," Mia smiled. Five minutes later, she came back with a pint of Carling, much to the annoyance of Sabine's bladder. "You just looked like you were enjoying those beers so much earlier!" Mia reasoned. Reluctantly, Sabine started to take short sips from the plastic glass of Carling. Her situation was worsening rapidly, she hadn't peed since 9pm. Since then, she'd had two pints, some water, a few shots, and was now adding a third pint onto her already full bladder. She strongly regretted her bet now, and given closing time was 3, it would be at least three and a half hours before she could see to her need. --- "Do you have to pee yet?" Lena asked her, noticing Sabine's grimace as she finally finished her pint, an hour after starting. Sabine played it cool, "Meh. Maybe a little." In reality, that couldn't be further from the truth. Sabine was absolutely bursting, and it was only the fact they were on a dancefloor that she was able to disguise how badly she had to go. Her bladder constantly jabbed at her, unbelievably desperate for release. "I'll get you another drink then," Petra smirked. "Unless you'd rather go to the bathroom first?" Sabine was determined. "Sounds good." A wave of intense desperation reminded her of her bladder's dissatisfaction with her decision making. Sabine looked around, Petra had gone to the bar, Mia was getting off with a girl she'd met a few minutes ago, Lena was nowhere to be seen. This was her chance. Practically hobbling, she winced and grimaced as she snuck into the queue for the bathroom. "Excuse me, can I go in front of you? I'm really really desperate," Sabine admitted to a stranger in front of her. "Ha, join the club," the girl in front danced on the spot. "Seriously, I don't think I can hold it, my bladder's about to explode," Sabine cried. The girl in front noticed her swollen stomach and relented, astonished by the sight of woman absolutely full to the brim with urine. Sabine was next in line, painfully close to relief. A spurt leaked into her panties as the toilet was in sight, and the sounds of women urinating, taps trickling, toilets flushing was almost too much for her to bear. "Oh hi Sabine, what are you doing here?" It was Lena, walking out of the toilets. "Oh, hi. I was just on my way to get some fresh air," Sabine felt another long spurt of piss dampen the crotch of her panties. "I'll come with you!" Lena cheerfully replied, pulling Sabine away from salvation. --- "You know you don't have to do this?" Lena asked her clearly desperate friend. "I'm fine," Sabine lied, as she felt a rivulet of wee run down each leg. "No you're not, you're going to hospitalise yourself if you keep this up," Lena looked genuinely concerned. Another spurt of pee convinced her. "Okay you're right," Sabine responded. Practically wetting herself already, she stumbled inside, all dignity gone. She clutched herself for dear life, and desperately scanned the bathroom line. Realising she didn't have time, she darted into the men's restroom on her right. Ignoring the cries of protesting men, Sabine contorted herself to stop any more pee leaking out, assessing whether there were any stalls free. With all taken, she was forced into her last resort option. Hitching her skirt up and pulling her panties to one side, her bladder was finally able to release properly, into a urinal next to six other men. She didn't care that a load of strangers in Cologne were staring at her naked pussy, nor that she was moaning like she'd had the best sex of her life. All that mattered was she was finally able to piss. Her eyes rolled heavenward as an unprecedented amount of pee exited her body as force. All the men left the bathroom as soon as possible, even the attendant, to give this poor woman privacy. The relief was so great, that Sabine was practically cumming, as her stomach slowly returned to its normal size. Feeling naughty, she did the rest in her already soaked panties, letting the fabric soak up the rest of her hot piss. Unable to resist any longer, she frantically rubbed her clit, and after seconds, she was in ecstasy, groaning like no man had ever made her feel. She was done. Taking her panties off, she left them in the bin, and pulled her skirt back down to avoid flashing the whole nightclub.
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