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flackus

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Everything posted by flackus

  1. I’ve been into female wetting (and messing from time to time) fantasies since I was a teenager. I’m not going to reference my age, but let’s just say I’ve loved it for a very long time 🙂. I was very embarrassed that someone would discover I had this fetish. Ashamed of it. But, I am with the love of my life (we were high school sweethearts and connected again after 20 years). I worked up the nerve to tell her about my fetish, and she accepted it with no hesitation. She admitted she doesn’t fully understand it and that it would be very difficult to convince herself to wet herself for me. I’m not forcing the issue, because she is an amazing, beautiful, strong woman. I’m excited to spend the rest of my life with her. She did hint that, in the right circumstances, she would try it. We both like to experiment with different kinks, and we openly talk about it. So, that how I’ve learned to not only not be ashamed of my fetish, but to embrace it.
  2. Totally Option 3. In my opinion, jeans wetting is the best 😉
  3. As promised, a continuation of A Writer's Discipline. Hope you enjoy. Sydney Donnelly read the text response from Alaina and smiled. She’s expecting me to be late, I just know it. I’ll surprise her and be early . . . for once. Sydney had just finished up in the shower, and she had texted Alaina to confirm their lunch date. She was just imagining the look on Alaina’s face when she saw Sydney had arrived before her. She giggled aloud. Alaina was very structured and adhered to a schedule, and Sydney knew that she absolutely hated surprises. If things didn’t go according to plan, Alaina would get a little cranky. She hadn’t seen Alaina cranky in a long time, so she figured she’d give her overly-organized best friend a little help. A break from the monotony. Sydney quickly got dressed in a pair of black yoga tights and an oversized green sweater. They always kept things casual when they had lunch together. They were planning to have lunch at one of their favorite delis, which happened to be about ten minutes away for both of them. Hopefully, they weren’t super busy today, because she really wanted to be able to catch up with Alaina. Due to both of their work schedules, they hadn’t seen each other in about two months. Like Alaina, Sydney could never really pinpoint when the two had become friends, so she also defined the length of their friendship as forever. Alaina could never understand why Alaina always told her how beautiful she was. A knockout. Sydney smirked to herself. She had always considered herself kind of awkward: too tall and scrawny with her long straight red hair that never seemed to do what she wanted. It reached the middle of her back and was in her face all the time. She rarely wore it in a ponytail, because it usually gave her a really bad headache. Sydney also worked out, but not as religiously as Alaina. She didn’t really have enough meat on her bones, but what she did have was toned. Her breasts were a size larger than Alaina’s, but Sydney always thought they were kind of a nuisance. The only part about her body she liked was her butt. It looked great in the tights she was wearing. Given her Irish heritage, Sydney had very light skin. Alaina’s skin was a nice warm color, and it seemed to be whatever the season. She knew Alaina didn’t fake tan. That was just the color of her skin. Lucky bitch. If I stay outside too long on a sunny day, I cook like a piece of bacon. At heart, Sydney was still a bit of a tomboy. She was a photographer, which allowed her to sometimes get into very unusual environments to capture fantastic moments. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands, or the rest of her body, dirty to do it either. She also could be very intimidating when the occasion called for it. She felt that mostly when men she worked around tried to get in her way. She spoke her mind, and she was sure most of the men who traveled with her on her nature shoots thought she was a super bitch. She didn’t care. Being a photographer had always been her dream since she was a child, and she wasn’t going to let macho assholes get in her way. This didn’t mean she hated men . . . just the cocky jackasses who thought they should be worshiped. She’d had a few good relationships with some good men, but, as time went on, her career curtailed the chances of any of these relationships to reach the settle down phase. She regretted it sometimes, and some of the breakups were pretty painful; however, she would jump back into work and the pain would dwindle to a memory. She still held out hope that she would one day be able to meet the right guy and settle down, but it wasn’t in the cards right now. Sydney was putting the final touches on her makeup, which she always applied lightly. If she put on too much eyeliner or lipstick, it made her face look almost pale. Her stomach made a bubbling groaning sound. It had been doing that since she woke up that morning. She tried to use the bathroom to alleviate her stomach troubles, but she wasn’t able to go. She couldn’t think of anything she might have eaten that would upset her stomach this much. Truth be told, her body felt more achy as the morning went on. She hadn’t heard of any sort of flu bug going around, so it was probably something she had eaten. She did like to eat, but she had the metabolism of a rabbit. Everything she ate burned off pretty quickly, especially when she exercised. Her stomach just felt kind of hot and liquidy, so she used the bathroom again. The only thing she managed to do was pee. Sydney was determined to beat Alaina to the deli, so she finished getting ready and headed out the door. “Aha!” Sydney exclaimed as she pulled into the parking lot of the deli. “I don’t see Alaina’s car. I did it! Sydney Rose, you are the shit.” She quickly exited her car, reveling in her victory. Her stomach interrupted her mental victory. During the ten-minute drive to the deli, her stomach went from bubbly and groaning to a more forceful yell. One hand shot to her stomach; the other to her backside. After a few deep breaths, she was able to gain control. For a moment there, she seriously thought she was going to lose it and poop in her pants. She sat down at the toilet at the deli, and she was finally able to go. And go she did . . . very wetly and noisily. She hoped no one else was in the bathroom when she let loose. Jesus! I seriously don’t feel well. Maybe I should tell Alaina I need to reschedule. She shook her head. She wanted to see her friend. She finished up in the bathroom and found a table in the outdoor section of the deli. She knew Alaina would have to travel down the street that ran in front of the deli, so she chose this spot so she could wave at her as she drove by. This is gonna be great. She chuckled maliciously. Sydney spent the next few minutes scrolling through her phone as she waited for her friend. She was able to answer a couple emails, check her Facebook, and read some news headlines. “Ugh. How stupid are these people? I mean who thinks like that, let alone says that out loud. And these are the people we want running this country. Idiots.” As she continued scrolling, her stomach began acting up again with renewed vigor. She also felt the growing need to pee. She had pee while unleashing her fury in the deli bathroom. What the hell is wrong with your stupid body, Sydney? Just after asking this rhetorical question, she spotted Alaina’s gray Mazda 6 driving past. She once again gained control and managed a drawn out wave to her friend. She could see Alaina’s eyes get bigger. Her mouth didn’t gape open like Sydney was expecting, but she was hoping she would see that as Alaina walked towards their table. Sydney’s stomach, destined to not let her enjoy her victory, gave a wicked and painful lurch. She hunched over in her chair slightly, emitting an audible ummmppphhhffff. Once again, she again about lost control and had a full blown accident in her pants. You need to go back to the bathroom, stupid! Her urge to pee heightened after the bad stomach cramp. She started to rise out of the chair when she heard the familiar voice behind her. “Is the world going to end? What the hell?” Despite the distress Alaina was feeling, she managed to stand fully and turn around with a victorious smile on her face. There it is - the wide eyes AND gaping mouth. This is delicious. “I about rear-ended some dude when I saw you were already here and waved at me like an asshole,” Alaina said, clearly dumbfounded at her friend’s uncharacteristic punctuality. Sydney smiled, still relishing her friend’s annoyance. “What took you so long, lady?” Sydney asked playfully. Alaina scowled at her, but it quickly dissolved into a smile. The two friends hugged. “You’re still an asshole,” Alaina said. Yeah, well . . . you’re kind of a bitch,” Sydney responded with a smile. Sydney was hit with another painful stomach cramp. Sensing her friend suddenly tensing up, Alaina stepped back to look at Sydney. “Shit, Syd,” Alaina said with a concerned look. “You okay, lady? You don’t look so good.” Once again, Sydney breathed through it, but she suddenly felt warm liquid dribbling down the inside of her legs. She quickly looked down and saw her tights glistening slightly. She stemmed the flow and pulled the bottom of her oversized sweater down over the crotch of her tights. The pain of the cramp had been so intense that she had started to wet her pants. “Oh, no,” Sydney gasped, feeling her face blush violently. “Ummm . . . not really, Lainey. I really need to . . . “ Alaina had witnessed Sydney losing control of her bladder when she pulled away from the hug. Sydney had not been able to pull her sweater down fast enough. Recognizing her friend’s desperation, Alaina gently led her friend back towards the bathroom. Sydney felt Alaina’s arm draped around her shoulder as they walked, which was more difficult with every step. Sydney was clutching her stomach with one hand; the other hand was clenched at her side. “God, Lainey,” Sydney mumbled as she fought back tears. “It hurts, baby. I’m gonna poop my pants.” “It’s okay, Syd,” Alaina said softly, still slowly guiding her friend through the restaurant. “We’re almost to the bathroom. You’ll be fine.” Another cramp hit Sydney, and she had to clench with all her might to avoid messing her pants completely. She felt another more forceful cascade soak her pants. It was harder to stem the flow as she walked, but she finally did. She felt the butt of her tights becoming soaked, and she still felt like she had to pee. She didn’t dare look down at her pants, because she figured, based on the wetness she felt, she had probably soaked her pants pretty thoroughly. As the bathroom came into view, Sydney knew she didn’t have any more fight in her. She broke away from Alaina and trotted out the exit into the parking lot. “Syd! What are you . . . hey?” Sydney heard Alaina call after her. Surprisingly, Sydney had been able to make it to her car. She noticed Alaina’s car was parked right next to hers. She unlocked her car with the fob and quickly pulled a towel from a gym duffle bag in her backseat. She heard hurried steps approach her, then Alaina was by her side. “Sweetie? Syd?” Alaina said gently as she placed her hand gently on her friend's back. “The bathroom . . .” Sydney felt hot tears running down her cheeks, and she felt herself start to sob. She felt another more power cramp building. “I’m sorry, Lainey,” Sydney whimpered as she slowly hugged her friend. “This is so . . .” Sydney tighted her arms around Alaina as the building cramp hit. She didn’t have enough strength to fight it. “Unnmmmmhhh,” was all Sydney could manage as her bowels lurched violently. Wave after wave of wet, hot, and sludgy poop forced out of her. Sydney managed to stop long enough to catch her breath, then another round of liquidy and noisy mess filled her pants. Her abdominal and gluteal muscles were so sore from her holding in her bowels that it hurt too much to clench either of them. Amidst feeling the disgusting poop dripping out of her panties, Sydney couldn’t hold her bladdeer any longer. She hugged Alaina tighter as more pee gushed into her pants and soaked into her socks and shoes. Despite her absolute agony and embarrassment, she really felt sorry for her Forever Friend, Alaina. This had to be so horrible to witness: her best friend just standing there pooping and peeing her pants uncontrollably. Through all the emotions going on in her brain, Sydney also noticed that her Alaina just pulled her into a tighter hug. This gesture completely warmed Sydney’s heart, but she was still worried that she was making such a huge mess in her pants that it would get all over her. It was one thing to completely soil your pants in front of someone, but it was quite another to get it all over someone who is trying to comfort you. Sydney tried pulling away, but Alaina held tight. After what Sydney hoped was the last violent cramp subsided, she finished filling her pants with soft poop as her friend held her tight. She felt herself just crumple against Alaina, completely exhausted by the incident. After several moments of silence, Sydney was able to reduce her sobs to whimpers. A few moments later, she was able to pull away from Alaina’s shoulder. Since Sydney was significantly taller than her friend, she was bent over considerably to be able to rest her head on Alaina’s shoulder. As she pulled away and slowly stood, the mess in her tights moved around, sliding down her legs. She would never be able to describe how vile and repugnant that felt. She wearily recalled the time she had accidentally peed her pants when she was age 19. She had held it too long and lost it halfway to the bathroom. Peeing her jeans in the hallway of her apartment at that age was just plain stupid. She remembered how she just stood there incredulous, unable to move once control was lost. That feeling of standing there pissing her pants and the clean up afterwards was one thing. Being too stubborn to go to the bathroom before her friend arrived or rescheduling their lunch and shitting and pissing her pants like a dufus, was absolutely ridiculous. Still, Sydney managed to find a glimmer of humor in the situation. “I still made it here before you,” she giggled. “You were late this time.” Alaina didn’t respond. She just smiled.
  4. It's been a few years since I've posted, but here's something I've been working on. I'm planning to make it a series. We'll see where it goes. A Writer's Discipline Alaina Lancaster was a published author. She prided herself for her discipline. She always knew she had a creative mind, and she wrote incessantly. Ideas for stories always permeated and percolated in her mind. Creating stories, in her mind, always seemed to be the easy part. What made her successful was the discipline to not only write constantly on a regular schedule but to believe in her talent and put it out there for the world. She was confident and assertive, not braggadocious and rude. At 38 years of age, Alaina liked to take care of herself, both physically and mentally. When she wasn’t writing, she was exercising and eating small meals throughout the day. She drank plenty of water everyday to keep herself hydrated. She also meditated and performed deep-breath exercises in order to alleviate stress. Alaina never saw herself as a knockout. She considered herself rather plain, and she was comfortable with that. She rarely wore dresses, except on special occasions; even then, she would wear a nice pantsuit if she could get away with it. At five-foot, four-inches tall she rarely stood out in a crowd. She kept her shoulder-length wavy brown hair in a short ponytail most of the time and wore jeans and t-shirts, because they were comfortable. From constant exercise, her body was fit, and her butt was firm and toned. She was always pleased with her butt. Since her breasts were only a size B, she wanted to make sure her butt was something people would notice if they took an interest in her. Her breasts, although a little on the small side, were toned and perky as well. The jeans she wore weren’t overly tight, but they accentuated her perky bottom nicely. All in all, Alaina was comfortable with how she looked and felt. Her slightly large, deep blue eyes sparkled in any light. Those eyes glanced at the clock at the upper corner of her laptop screen. She had a meeting in about an hour, so she found a good stopping place in the short story of which she was pounding away, saved it, and powered down her laptop. Pleased with how the story was progressing, she smiled and sat back in her comfortable leather desk chair with a contented sigh. Writing for hours always made her muscles stiff from all the effort it took to put into her writing. She basically put her whole body into it. She closed her eyes and did some deep-breathing exercises for approximately five minutes, letting her body and mind relax. When she opened her eyes, she felt completely relaxed and wrapped herself in that feeling of serenity. She glanced at the empty coffee cup and three empty water bottles sitting to her right on her desktop, and she rose from her chair. The fabric of her favorite worn jeans was cool and damp and clung to the skin of her inner thighs and butt. The feeling gave her a little chill as she walked barefooted from her office towards the bathroom. During her scheduled three-hour block of intensive writing and consuming her coffee and water, Alaina had slowly released the contents of her bulging bladder into her jeans. She never paused her writing once. She only took a moment each time to mentally savor the feeling of relief as the warmth soaked her panties, spread underneath her bottom, and pooled into the leather seat of her chair. She recalled through the rapid-fire keystrokes that she had wet her pants twice. Once when she had been about fifteen minutes into her story; the second about an hour after that, rewarming the cooling fabric of her jeans. As she entered the bathroom, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror as she released her hair from her ponytail. Since she was sitting when she voided her bladder both times, the wetness had only crept up her zipper in the front of her jeans. She turned around to see the back of her jeans, which took the brunt of the wettings. Even the very bottom of her untucked long gray t-shirt was wet from the pee creeping up her butt to the lower part of her shirt. She heard the familiar notification of her phone, indicating she had received a text. She had left her phone on the desk in her office. The fact that she could hear the notification from all the way in the bathroom made her realize she had neglected to turn down the volume on her phone from blasting music during a previous workout. “Jesus!” Alaina exclaimed, jumping slightly from the noise. She quickly retrieved her phone from the desk and hurried back to the bathroom. She read the text and responded: ‘Still on for lunch?’ ‘Yup. Around oneish.’ ‘K. See ya there.’ Sydney Donnelly had been Alain’s friend forever. She couldn’t remember exactly when they became friends off the top of her head, so she simply considered their friendship qualifying as forever. Sydney was, almost to the day, five years younger than Alaina, and she considered her friend a knockout: long red hair, shining emerald eyes, five-foot eight, gorgeous figure, and funny to hell to boot. Sydney always had the funniest way to tell a story - somewhat disjointed and bizarre. Alaina’s response to Sydney’s text, ‘around oneish,’ was intentionally vague, since Sydney was usually 30 minutes late for everything. That was just Sydney. She didn’t adhere to schedules like Alaina, so she always considered this as a complementing of their friendship. She smiled and laughed aloud. Alaina had once again felt that familiar fullness in her bladder, which had intensified when she rushed back to the office to grab her phone and return to the bathroom. Every time her bladder felt full, she always felt intense sexual arousal. The feeling was more intense when her panties and pants were already wet. The crotch of her panties dampened even more from that arousal. Alaina quickly gathered up a clean towel for her shower, along with some clean clothes. She replaced her towel from last night with the fresh one on the hook next to the shower, laying the former on the floor in front of the bathroom counter. As she stood on the towel, she took a moment to assess her reflection in the mirror, smiling at her wet jeans. She took a deep breath and let it out, once again relaxing her body. For the third time that morning, Alaina felt the incredible heat spread between her legs. She let out a quiet, Mmmmhhh, as more pee jetted into her jeans. She once again looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her damp jeans became the canvas for her artistic enjoyment. Heavy streams slid down the front of the thighs of her jeans and spread deliciously across her abdomen. She groaned at the hissing sound as fresh pee ran down her thighs, onto her bare feet, and soaked into the towel on the floor. She quickly turned around and watched as the wetness spread out beneath her buttcheeks, ascended up her buttcrack, and down the backs of her legs. It only took a few seconds from the back of her legs and butt to become drenched as she peed more forcefully in her pants. A whimper escaped her throat, followed closely by an extended moan. She gently put her hand in the crotch of her jeans, as the fabric continued to warm. That gentle touch is all it took. She orgasmed so hard that she had to brace herself against the counter with her free hand to keep from crumpling to the floor. She groaned with extreme pleasure as her massive orgasm was succeeded by another smaller one. It took Alaina nearly ten minutes of leaning against the counter, perspiring heavily, heart hammering, breathing in gasps to gain control of herself. Once that was accomplished, she slowly peeled off her soaked jeans, t-shirt, and blue panties and dropped them on the urine-soaked towel at her feet. The muscles in Alaina’s legs were still twitching from cumming twice in her pants, so she carefully entered the shower and blasted herself with lukewarm water. She gradually decreased the water temperature towards the end of her shower, which gradually pulled her body from that euphoric state.
  5. Here is the conclusion to this tale. I hope you've enjoyed it. Working on some new stuff. Might be a longer wait, though. I lost some of my favorite stories from another notebook, so I'm going to have to start from scratch. Without further ado . . . “Okay,” Nimbus said, turning just enough to wrap his arm around Abigail’s waist to guide her to his side. Susan thought for sure Abigail would resist, but she proved to be a very good sport. Abigail did, however, offering Nimbus a confused and slightly hostile glance. Nimbus offered his free hand to Susan, urging her stand with them. Reluctant at first, Susan relented and joined them. “My apologies, my beautiful ladies,” Nimbus continued, positioning Abigail and Susan in front of him. “Or ‘beautiful princesses’ to be more accurate . . .” Abigail and Susan looked at each other and rolled their eyes simultaneously. When they looked back at Nimbus, he was holding a small square piece of paper in the palm of his right hand. The paper was a little smaller than a postage stamp, and was almost translucent. If not for the light provided by a nearby lamp, they might not have been able to see it. Nimbus did not extend his hand toward them, and the girls did not advance to investigate further. Nimbus was greeted by raised eyebrows from his two “beautiful princesses.” “Transdermal tab,” Nimbus explained. “Place it on the tongue. It dissolves instantly, but the active agent remains viable for up to one hour.” He put the small item back in his pocket. “Don’t worry. It’s not toxic. It does, however, boost specific parts of the female . . . um . . . well the erotic and pleasure centers of the brain. The chemical contained within can be passed from one person to the next. By a kiss, for example. The next person can also pass the chemical residue to another by similar contact.” Abigail and Susan looked at one another, trying to process Nimbus’ presentation. Nimbus remained politely aloof as usual. After a few moments, Abigail sighed loudly, which sounded like a gust of wind in the quiet room. “Nimbus, Nimbus, Nimbus,” Abigail said. “You should know by now that you don’t have to resort to deception to keep me coming back.” “Same here, mister,” Susan added, moving toward Nimbus. She snuggled into him. They looked at Abigail, who still appeared reticent. Nimbus cautiously extended his hand to her. “My deepest apologies, Ms. Abigail,” Nimbus said theatrically. “I will not be so devious again.” Abigail’s face softened, and she took a step forward. Susan immediately saw the crotch of Abigail’s jeans darken, and thin tributaries drifted down her inner thighs. Susan felt that familiar tingle. Abigail slowed her advance and gave Nimbus a menacing squint, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a smile. Wetness exploded across the front of her jeans. Abigail continued slowly forward, making a slow turn to show the back of her jeans. Susan felt her panties grow warmer and moist again. The back of Abigail’s jeans glistened as she continued to let go. The wetness crept up to the middle of Abigail’s butt. Abigail turned back to face them. The legs of her jeans were saturated all the way down to her sneakers, but Abigail continued letting it go. Abigail reached Susan and Nimbus, and they enveloped her a group hug. All was well. Eventually, the three separated, and Abigail and Susan took in the mess they’d made of themselves. “Well, Nimbus, honey,” Abigail said, as she looked down at her jeans. “I think the ‘transdermal tab made me pee my pants.” She gave Nimbus a pouty face. Susan laughed. “I’m sorry, sweet princess,” replied Nimbus, “but that accident is all your doing.” Abigail went from pouty face to embarrassed school girl, swaying slightly in her wet jeans. “Speaking of accidents . . . will there be any more from you this evening?” Nimbus asked casually. Susan smiled, shifting slightly in order to feel the mess in her pants. Abigail stopped swaying and just smiled at Nimbus. “I’m sorry, Nimbus dear,” she said, smiling playfully. “I just don’t have that in me this evening.” Nimbus was crestfallen, so Susan chimed in. “Um . . . As much as I thoroughly enjoy the initial feeling of . . . well . . . having an accident in ny pants, I’m not digging standing around like this.” She looked down at her own pants. “I mean, you can only feel sexy so long after you’ve peed and pooped your pants.” All three enjoyed a laugh, and the girls went to go get cleaned up. As they cleaned up, each of them was treated to equal levels of pleasure. There was no more use of Nimbus’ transdermal tab . . . At least not for the remainder of the evening. Abigail reflected on her evening with Nimbus and Susan as she pulled her car into her garage. Truthfully, she was pissed at what Nimbus had pulled. However, no one got hurt. It wasn’t the first time Nimbus got creepy and weird, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. At the conclusion of the evening, after getting cleaned up, Abigail had thrown on a comfortable sweatshirt and the fresh pair of jeans she’d brought with her. These jeans were tighter than the ones she’d peed in. Those wet jeans would be laundered by Nimbus and sent back to her. As Abigail set her keys down on her kitchen counter, she wondered how Susan’s poor pants would fair. Abigail knew from experience that having a minor poop accident in your pants could potentially ruin said pants. Susan, however, erupted in her pants. She must have loaded up on Nimbus’ “special supplements.” To that end, the good news (hopefully) for Susan’s light-colored pants is that Nimbus’ supplements removed the foul odor of excrement. Again, Nimbus’ particular tastes. The supplements also promoted regularity. So, as far as Abigail was concerned, it was a win win. She shook her head and smiled. She really enjoyed her evening with Susan. Nimbus was always fun, but it was always nice to have more people at the party. Abigail really hoped Susan would be there next week. As Abigail walked into her bedroom and turned on the lights, she realized she did feel bad for holding back something from Susan . . . Abigail looked at her reflection in the mirror, then she turned to take in her profile. Her butt looked pretty good in these jeans. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and gave a slight push. Thanks to the supplements, that small push was all that was needed. Her whole body twitched and quivered as massive waves of mess crackled and spread into her pants. It just kept coming, and Abigail just smiled. It warmed her backside as it crept up to the waistband of her panties. She had had some wine before she left Nimbus’ house, as well as some water. She was bursting for a pee, so, for the second time this evening, Abigail relaxed even more and peed in her jeans as well. As she gave one last push and expanded the load in her jeans, she whispered . . . . “Thanks, Nimbus.”
  6. Part Two: . . . and a twist . . . “Hello, Ms. Mastin.” Abigail couldn’t help but stare at the stunning woman who entered the room. Nimbus was not far behind her, smiling coily. Abigail quickly composed herself, walked across the den, and smiled as she gently shook the woman’s hand. Abigail was comfortable enough with herself to admit that the woman was sexy as hell. If Abigail and Nimbus had been an actual couple, Abigail would have been insanely jealous. She and Nimbus were not a couple - never would be. That’s just the way it worked between them. Exclusive relationships were too complicated. “My name is Susan,” the woman said, smiling pleasantly. Susan’s nose crinkled a little between her eyes. “If it’s okay with you, I’d prefer to not provide my last name.” There was no edge to Susan’s voice, so Abigail didn’t feel as if Susan were being rude in her reluctance to share her last name. Susan obviously knew Abigail’s last name, but she probably would never know theirs. Again, Abigail thought, more complications averted. Abigail simply nodded courteously. Susan couldn’t have been much older than Abigail, and she was also thin and seemed to have the body of a swimmer - lithe, firm, and graceful. She wore a tapered pair of lightly colored dress pants. They were snug, but not tight, hugging her gently curving hips nicely. I bet her ass looks amazing in those pants, Abigail thought, feeling a slight tingle between her legs. As if reading Abigail’s thoughts, Susan turned slightly to motion Nimbus to join them. Yup. The woman has an amazing ass, Abigail thought, smiling. Susan and Nimbus stepped toward Abigail. Susan’s perfume was intoxicating. Not overpowering, but for Abigail to get lost in her scent. The tingle between Abigail’s legs grew. Susan stopped directly in front of Abigail, smiling. Nimbus stood beside Susan, still wearing a devilish expression. Susan offered her hand to Abigail, and Abigail immediately took it. Nimbus joined in, holding both woman’s hand, creating a circle in the middle of the den. Despite the subdued lighting, Abigail could see that Susan had the most gorgeous emerald green eyes. While Nimbus had the most soothing, but smoldering, almond eyes, Susan’s green eyes radiated sensual energy. Abigail felt the pressure of their hands increase gently, and the circle closed tighter. “Abigail,” Susan spoke softly, “I’m sure you are fully aware of Nimbus’ . . . well . . . interesting sexual appetites.” “Indeed,” Abigail responded, giving Nimbus a playful glance. Nimbus simply winked. “And I know you have engaged in passionate scenarios with him involving the presence of another woman,” Susan said, giving Abigail’s hand a little squeeze. Abigail returned the gesture to indicate her agreement. “Nimbus has also told me th4ere are some fetishes you are more than comfortable engaging in?” The smile on Susan’s when she asked this was mischievious. The tone in which the question was spoken, along with the naughty arching of Susan’s brow, indicated that Susan seemed to be aware of these fetishes as well. “Yes,” Abigail answered, feeling moist between her legs. “Fantastic,” Susan said energetically. All three now understood what would happen next, so Nimbus broke the circle and gently set the two lovely ladies to dancing slowly together in the middle of the room. Abigail noticed a large mirror had been placed in the room with them. She had no idea how it got there, and, at the moment, she didn’t care. As Abigail and Susan slowly turned gracefully, each woman took time to admire the other’s body. It was no so much a dance as it was an intimate hug while slowly turning together in a circle. Abigail pulled apart from Susan enough to slide her tongue between Susan’s warm lips. Susan felt her panties dampening in anticipation. Abigail panties were definitely wetter than they were minutes ago after her second explosion on the couch with Nimbus, but she willed herself to hold on a little longer. As if anticipating Abigail’s need for release, Susan whispered warmly in Abigail’s ear.” “Can I go first?” Abigail could not stop a moan from escaping her throat. “Absolutely,” Abigail replied, breathlessly. The two beautiful women positioned themselves in front of the large mirror and the couch. Nimbus was planted precariously on the edge of the couch, watching them intently. “This shouldn’t take long,” Susan said. “I’ve been preparing all day for this.” Abigail and Susan stopped their dance and pulled apart just enough for them to be able to look at one another. Abigail’s insides felt molten, and between her legs there was a pulsing anticipation. Abigail was not kept waiting long. Susan pressed in a little closer, but not so much that they couldn’t still look into each other’s eyes. Both felt the other’s firm breasts press together, and the two began to erotically grind their tingling crotches together. Abigail felt Susan’s body tense for a moment, and Susan’s countenance seemed to be one of intense concentration. Susan scrunched her eyelids together, smiling wickedly as she did so. After a few seconds, Susan opened her eyes. Abigail felt Susan’s abdomen convulse repeatedly, and Abigail was treated to a loud gurgling in Susan’s tummy. Susan ground her crotch deeper against Abigail’s. Both woman moaned at the contact. From beneath Susan’s snug dress pants, air forced its way out, followed closely by wert and bubbling sounds. Abigail felt the release in Susan’s body as a soft warm mess slathered into her panties. Seconds later, more of the mess bubbled and slid into Susan’s pants. “Oh, my . . . “ Susan said, “Mmmmmm . . . goodness.” A few grunts escaped her lips. Susan quickly guided on of Abigail’s hands to the seat of her dress pants. Abigail immediately was treated to clamping Susan’s firm backside. When Abigail felt the slight bulge and warm mess beneath Susan’s pants, Abigail ground into Susan violently. Abigail kissed Susan deeply, and she felt Susan’s abdomen quiver again. Abigail patted Susan ass lovelingly as Susan continued to poop in her pants with pleasure. Susan continued to unleash wave after wave of poop. Abigail glanced at the reflection of Susan’s snug pants, and there was a huge dark stain across the seat of the woman’s pants. Susan had pooped in her pants for one minute and twenty-two seconds. . . . but who was counting? Susan, now breathless, guided Abigail so they could a spin around to give Nimbus a better view of Susan’s mess. Abigail wasn’t looking at Nimbus, but she heard him groan loudly. Both women smiled at one another, knowing exactly what that signified. Still pressed tightly against Susan (and enjoying every second of it), Abigail became aware of an intense warmth saturating the front of her jeans. Abigail knew she really needed to pee, and, for a moment, she thought she had lost control of her bladder. She fought the urge to separate from Susan enough to investigate, but the faraway look in Susan’s eyes was all the evidence she needed. Abigail’s body jolted a little, and she felt her panties dampen more. She pressed even closer to Susan, relishing the feeling of Susan’s pee against her legs. Moments later, the faraway look on Susan’s face retreated, and Susan smiled. “Ahhhh . . . what a rel-” Susan couldn’t finish her statement, because Abigail’s warm tongue slid between the woman’s lips. Susan was surprised, but was not surprised how she loved the feeling of Abigail’s undulating tongue dance in her mouth. What really caught Susan by surprise was the volcanic orgasm she experienced as a direct result. As Susan’s body quivered, Susan ejaculated repeatedly in her already wet and soiled panties. The release was so intense that Abigail broke their passionate kiss so she could focus of preventing Susan from collapsing. Nimbus discovered enough physical strength to assist Abigail in guiding Susan to the couch. Even the slight discomfort of the tremendous load in her pants squishing all over her backside couldn’t stop her body from cumming more and more into her pants. “What the . . . why’m . . . what’s wrong with me?” Susan muttered. Suddenly, as if her body was granting her mercy, Susan’s intense, almost frightening, orgasm was over. She sat back in the comfortable leather couch, and her vision began to clear. Susan looked from Abigail to Nimbus, both of who wore looks of concern. However, as she looked at their faces closer, she saw looks of simmering erotic excitement beneath. “Did you two do something to me?” Susan asked, having had to rehearse the question in her mind a few times before allowing it to leave her mouth. After what she’d just experienced, she wasn’t sure what she could trust herself doing. “I mean, I haven’t cum so much in my life,” she said, feeling more and more relaxed as she spoke. Susan watched Nimbus tried to hide a devilish smile and begin to turn away. Abigail stopped his retreat and held him in place in front of Susan. “Yes, Nimbus dear,” Abigail said sternly, squeezing his shoulders for effect. “It seems I encountered a similar . . . reaction . . . earlier. Pretty sure that wasn’t just a coincidence.” Susan felt her stomach tighten momentarily, but she relaxed significantly when Abigail’s eyes met hers. Abigail was smiling behind Nimbus, and she gave Susan a playful wink. Nimbus attempted to be obstinate for a few moments, but his resolve crumbled away. Third and final part to follow . . .
  7. Here's the first part of a story I wrote about a year ago. It's pretty long, so I'm not going to post all of it at once. Hope you enjoy. Seduction and a Twist Abigail Mastin perused her appearance via the immaculately shined glass of the front door. She had arrived about five minutes ago and made her way to the front door, but she had not yet rung the bell. She didn’t need to look at her watch to know she was about fifteen minutes early. She prided herself on her punctuality. She normally didn’t pride herself on her appearance, but she was pretty pleased with the image looking back at her. She was asked to dress casually for the festivities this evening. She smiled and shook her head. Festivities. Ugh. She wondered how many words the organizer of this gathering went through before settling on that one. Abigail rang the doorbell. As she waited for the door to be answered, she gave her appearance one more inspection. Faded dark jeans, slightly distressed, comfortable, but tight enough across her backside to add some snap. She wore a long-sleeve black dress shirt, which was just silky enough to provide a little shimmer in the right light. The shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, not only for comfort, but to allow her light blue tank top to be visible beneath. Her perky breasts stood at attention (it was the end of October, and the air had turned cooler). What Abigail considered to be an acceptable amount of cleavage peaked above the neckline of the top. And shoes, well, she was never really a shoe girl. She through on the nearest pair of Under Armour running shoes, but she made sure they weren’t horribly scuffed. The door opened, and she was escorted past the foyer into a dimly lit hallway. Candles burning in sconces that lined the walls of the hallway were the only source of light. She smiled again and turned around to ask her escort a question, but the young woman was no longer there. She rolled her eyes and turned back around. “Nimbus,” she said, liking the way her voice echoed off the walls and down the hallway. There was no response. The man really liked to set the stage. “Oh, Niiiii-mmmm-buss,” she called playfully. She knew he was not far down the hallway, situated in a spot where the candlelight couldn’t reach. He would soon make his entrance when he felt enough tension built. Theatrical. Mysterious. A little shy of creepy, but Abigail had known Nimbus a long time. She thought it really was adorable how he found new ways to keep her guessing. Next time, his entrance would be different. She could guarantee it. Weirdo. She smirked. Abigail watched the tall form of Nimbus slide out of the shadows. He walked slowly towards her, but his long legs ate up the distance quickly. He wore a playful smile. His grey-blue eyes were confident, penetrating, and very . . . what was the best way to describe how he looked at Abigail . . . ? Naughty. Abigail felt her inside quiver as Nimbus gently cupped her face in his large hands. He gently kissed her, and, just as gently slid his tongue between her lips. What felt like an electric charge buzzed through her body. She stepped into his kiss and quickly sought out his tongue with hers. She felt Nimbus’ hands slide lovingly over her body, one hand gently massaging her backside through her jeans. The electrical charge inside her was accompanied by an unexpected trembling. Intense heat blossomed between her legs, and her body felt like she was submerged in the most soothing water she’d ever felt. She could not contain a whimper and a moan. I could actually love this guy if he wasn’t such a weirdo, Abigail thought. Then her body bucked violently. Abigail instantly felt her panties become sticky between her legs. Fuck! I just came in my pants! She felt her body spasm repeatedly as she ejaculated more in her panties. God, I really hate this guy! She felt her legs crumpled beneath her, and Nimbus gracefully caught her, sliding one arm behind her legs. Exhausted, Abigail snuggled into his chest. She felt herself being carried, ever so smoothly, by Nimbus. She kissed him weakly on the neck, as she was consumed by his musky after shave. Abigail snuggled into Nimbus. He had swept her into the room he called a den, and he gently laid her down on the couch. He knelt on the floor and stroked her cheek lovingly. Without realizing she was doing it, he left hand slid between her legs over the top of her jeans. Nimbus sensed the movement, looked down at her hand, and he chuckled (which sounded like a sexy whisper to Abigail). She felt another hand join hers between her legs. “You made me cum in my pants, mister,” Abigail whispered. “Did you like it?” “No, it was horrible,” she retorted with a smile. Nimbus slid across the floor, positioning his mouth over her flat stomach. He lifted her tank top just enough to kiss her navel. She felt his hand slide further into the crotch of her jeans. Abigail opened her thighs a little wider, enjoying Nimbus’ large hand caressing hers, as they both continued exploring. Abigail could feel another jolt building inside her. She was powerless to stop it. Nimbus sensed it building too. She felt him stop caressing her hand for less than a second and just pushed his hand into hers, causing her own hand to press firmly into the crotch of her jeans. All Abigail could do was gasp as another orgasm thronged through her body. Instantly, she felt the fabric of her jeans dampen against her hand. “You really suck. You know that, Nimbus?” Abigail said breathlessly. She had removed her own hand from her damp crotch, but she noticed Nimbus’ hand remained. “You sure are wet down there, lady,” she heard Nimbus chuckle smoothly. “Abigail smiled and clamped her thighs together, trapping his hand between her legs. Nimbus slowly freed his hand and positioned himself next to Abigail on the couch. He was thankful the couches in the den was deeper, so he could recline with her. He nuzzled into Abigail’s soft neck, smelling soap and vanilla. “You not only made me cum twice in the span of ten minutes,” Abigail whispered, “you made me explode in my pants. My panties are freakin’ soaked. I seriously thought I peed my pants. Twice.” Nimbus slowly rose from the couch, gently sitting Abigail up with him. He smiled and addressed Abigail’s puzzled expression. “Oh my,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. You’re really gonna love the next part of the evening, Abigail. He asked her to wait in the den, saying he had “preparations” to make. He promised to return in no more than ten minutes. Abigail rolled her eyes as he departed. “Oh boy,” she grumbled. Nimbus was definitely kinky, almost creepy sometimes. She had a feeling, however, that she was going to enjoy what he was preparing. She made herself comfortable back on the couch, noticing the wet spot between her legs. She couldn’t help but smile.
  8. Okay, my fellow Omo lovers, I promise I am working on more stories to post here. My work schedule has been banana sandwich lately. I have several stories written in a notebook, so it's just a matter of getting them typed up. I've been into wetting/messing for a very long time, but it's been a very passive involvement. I've never had the nerve to actually engage in the fetish with a real human being (women only), but I'm hoping being more active on sites like this will give me the confidence I need to make that happen. My question for you all is what actually got you into this fetish? Was it something that developed gradually, or was there a particular event that "closed the deal" so to speak? Everyone who knows me has no idea how much I'm into this fetish. It's not that I'm ashamed . . . I just wouldn't know how to explain it. Thanks, all!
  9. Thank you for the positive response to the first part of the story! I've had the female wetting/messing fetish for a long time, but I've never been brave enough to commit to posting my stories online. Here is the final part of the story. I hope you enjoy the conclusion. I have others I've written, but I still need to edit them. I'll post them when I can. Tara contemplated and incident from her past: You went to that graduation party in your senior year. That one girl, Sasha, who was hammered when you got there - yeah, she was being such a bitch to you a lot of others. Remember, she was giving shit to Jennifer from the volleyball team. Little Jennifer, about five-four, 100 pounds, charged at Sasha and pushed her as hard as she could into a tree. You thought, ‘oh, shit, Jenn’s gonna get it now.’ Nope, Sasha pulled herself off the tree, looked like she’s seen a ghost, and made a hasty exit. She walked like you’re walking now, because the force of Jenn pushing her made Sasha shit her pants. Some say she actually pissed her pants too. It took Tara 45 minutes to get cleaned up. These light-blue jeans, not-too-tight, rips at the knees, were her absolute favorite, so she wasn’t about to throw them away. It might take several washes, but they’d come clean. Her light blue boyshort panties, however, were done for. Having showered and slipping into gray yoga tights and an oversized t-shirt, Tara reheated some pizza and opened a bottle of Blue Moon. She ate and drank in silence staying at her island. Her contemplative thoughts, she knew, should have logically been focused on solving the mystery of the supposed hellhound that had chased her. Instead, her thoughts remained on what she’d discovered once she was safe inside her house. Her favorite jeans were in the washing machine, soaking. She would let them soak overnight and wash them a few times to get them back to presentable. She knew she was using the soiled jeans as a means to distract herself from actually dealing with the emotions associated with the massive accident in her pants. She had been potty trained early, and, although she never really took much time to think about it, she realized that she had made it through elementary school all the way to college without wetting or messing her pants. It’s not like she had a mortal fear of having an accident. She just that they just hadn’t happened to her. Things happened. Just because someone pees or poops their pants at an age that’s considered unacceptable, doesn’t make them any less of a person. As an adult, Tara had witnessed more times than she could count where fellow adults couldn’t hold it and had accidents. She’s surprisingly never witnessed guys having accidents, only women. So, you were terrified about something chasing you, you get to safety, then you pee and poop your pants. It happens, so don’t stress about it. No one knows about it, so it’s almost like it didn’t happen. Right? Tara guzzled the rest of her beer. Right? She ate another piece of pizza, and her belly felt very full. Um . . . She drank another beer, and followed it with a glass of water. She cleaned up the kitchen and settled in on the couch with a book. She couldn’t concentrate on what she reading. What’s going on with you, Tara? She laid the book down on the coffee table and became transfixed by the front door. She first wondered if she really had imagined there was something chasing her. It was too real, she thought. All the sensations, the running, the terror - surely her mind couldn’t conjure up that much intensity without something being out there. She rubbed her legs, which were still sore from the night’s activities. She had managed to get all the cuts cleaned up and bandaged, but they still hurt like hell. Tara Toland, attractive, responsible, single, homeowner, business owner, cracked a smile. The rush. The adrenaline. The quivering fear she experienced when she felt certain she was going to die. She felt her stomach flutter thinking about it. Still, self-analysis was what she’d always done. You think you’ve become an adrenaline junkie, Tara Toland? Most people who claim to be adrenaline junkies lose that craving when they are faced with real danger. She considered this analysis and realized it made sense. She didn’t want to find evidence that a dog, or something else, had chased her to her house. She didn’t want to go bungee jumping or skydiving. She just wanted to experience paralyzing, mind-numbing fear, and she wanted to experience the results of that fear. Tara wanted to be so frightened and horrified . . . . that . . . she . . . Peed and pooped in your pants again. Tara stood up from the couch so abruptly that she felt as if she’d been shocked. She was immediately reminded of how full her bladder and belly were. She gently rubbed her stomach. This is ridiculous! You are an adult. Sane adults don’t put themselves in situations where they experiencing that type of fear. And they sure as hell don’t relish the thought of completely soiling themselves. You’re still amped up from the experience. You’ll have forgotten all about this by morning. Tara took a deep breath and went upstairs to bed, making sure all the doors were locked and all the lights downstairs were extinguished. She kept the gray yoga tights on and traded the oversized t-shirt for a tank top. She was brushing her teeth in the bathroom when she realized she needed to use the bathroom before she went to bed. She spit and rinsed and walked over to the toilet. She began to slide her tights down and stopped herself. She looked down at the toilet and smiled. It was a wicked smile. She slowly stepped away from the toilet and returned to the bathroom sink. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and allowed herself to admire her toned physique - flat abs, gently rounded hips, firm breasts. She turned so she could admire her profile. Keeping that ass in good shape lady. She turned to face her reflection again. The naughty grin she wore didn’t alarm her in the least. She gently rubbed her stomach again. Her need to use the bathroom growing urgent. Fear. Tara’s face changed from naughty to wide-eyed and terrified in an instant. She worked up her emotions quickly and began crying uncontrollably. She stepped backwards until her back back came into contact with the wall next to the shower. Her performance was most convincing, and she went a step further and held both hands up in from of her in a stopping motion. “Please! Please! Take whatever you want, okay? Just don’t hurt me.” Her crying turned to racking sobs. “What are you doing? No! No! A knife! Please no! I don’t want to die . . . I don’t want to die!!” Tara tucked her arms against her chest and cowered against the wall, moaning in fear. Her bladder was to the point of bursting, and her bowels were quivering. It was now or never. To maintain authenticity, Tara didn’t push it. She let her staged fear do it for her. She knew she was going to die at the hands of her knife-wielding assailant, so she merely gave up the fight. She lost control of her bladder first. Hot urine flowed from between her legs, soaking the gray fabric of her tights. Tara snuck a glance at the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. The front of her tights were nearly already soaked, and her pee pattered loudly at her bare feet. She felt the wetness spreading quickly across her butt and pour down the backs of her legs. She continued sobbing uncontrollably, as her bowels released. Warm soft mess crackled and squelched into her panties, and the mess couldn’t be contained by her panties. She felt the back of her tights balloon out severely, as her bowels continued to void. “Oh my god, don’t kill me. Please!” She delved into the scenario completely, imagining the blade of the knife tearing through her flesh and wiggling around inside the tissue and muscles of her stomach. Still violently peeing and pooping her pants, Tara allowed her body to go slack in feigned death. She slid down the wall of her bathroom clutching her stomach. Her butt contacted the floor, and she could feel and hear massive load in her pants splot! She felt the mess soak through the tights. It was now all over her butt and backs of her thighs. Tara fell over on her side, dead. If she had any further control over her bladder and bowels, that control ended when she died. It was commonly known that when someone dies, all their muscle control is gone - meaning they pee and poop their pants. So, that what happened. The last spurt of urine added to the puddle beneath her lifeless body, and the last evacuation of her bowels settled at the leg band of her panties nearest the floor. Now that Tara was dead on the floor, she allowed herself to really take it all in. Her bathroom smelled of fear and blood. She smelled her piss-soaked tights and squirmed a little in the puddle on the floor. She certainly felt sticky mess in the seat of her pants, but, surprisingly, it didn’t have an odor to it. She smiled. Nope, you don’t have to go out seeking danger to experience that level of fear. You can just make it up yourself.
  10. This is the first part of a story from a collection of stories focused on female wetting and messing. If you like it, I will gladly post more. Tara Toland never considered herself a runner, by any means. In high school, she always started on the volleyball team, and, she had to admit she was pretty good. Unfortunately, one of the ways to build up stamina on the court, their coach forced all the girls on the team (even those who didn’t play much) to run. A lot. Tara hated every second of running, so, after she graduated high school, she didn’t play volleyball. She went to college and worked out several times a week, but she did not incorporate running into her exercise regimen. Tara considered herself very fit. She had put on a few pounds, so she wasn’t skinny as a rail. She wasn’t overweight, and she was healthy. So, she settled for that. Some of her friends tried talking Tara into running with them on several occasions, but Tara politely refused each time. At one point, she even made a joke out of it. Dude . . . the only time you’ll see me running is when I’m being chased by a lunatic with a freakin’ chainsaw. Her friends thought it was hilarious, as did Tara. It wasn’t so funny now, because, even though she wasn’t being chased by a lunatic with a chainsaw, what she heard crackling and huffing through the trees behind her convinced her that running wasn’t so bad after all. Mostly, because she was so terrified by what she’d seen minutes ago inside her neighbor’s dilapidated barn, that she didn’t have time to think about how she despised running. She hauled ass, trying to put as much distance between herself and that creature as possible. She thought she was in the clear and began to slow her pace. She took in her familiar surroundings and realized she had begun running away from the safety of her own home. She stopped and listened for any sign of whatever the hell that thing was. It was hard to hear anything over her panting. Once she slowed her breathing, she redoubled her efforts to look and listen. Nothing. “Damn, Tara,” she chided herself, “You probably just imagined what you saw. I mean, stuff like what you saw doesn’t even exist. So, you’ve just been running your ass off in the woods for no reason. Idiot.” Tara rolled her eyes and altered her course to get back to her house. She was about a quarter-mile from her house, and she was thrilled when she could see her front porch. Even though she had convinced herself that her mind was playing tricks on her, she distinctly heard a branch crack behind her. Then another. You’re being an idiot again. This isn’t a horror movie. There is no monster chasing you. A rumbling growl sounded from behind her. She did one of the dumbest things that anyone could do in a horror movie: she looked over her shoulder to see what made the growl. All she could see what a shape emerge from the trees and fiery red eyes. Tara felt herself begin shaking in terror, but she summoned enough strength to not just stand there like an dumbass and get torn apart by this thing. She wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her jeans. And she ran as hard as she could toward her house. She heard the beast behind her, but she wasn’t going to look back. She was going to run up her front porch, burst through the door (that she always left unlock, thankfully), and she would lock the door behind her. She heard the thing huffing behind her, and it was getting closer. She jumped through her bushes that lined her front yard to cut the distance to her front porch. She quickly registered the pain of multiple deep scratches on her arms, neck, and face, but she burst from the bushes. She scrambled up her front yard and almost leaped up the five steps of her front porch. As planned, she rocketed through the front door, slammed it behind, and engaged the heavy lock. Tara stood to the left of the door, trying once again to catch her breath. Her legs and butt were on fire. Her stomach was twisted in knots. Her back was pressed against the wall so firmly, she swore she could feel her trembling body shaking the wall. Minutes later, she slowly crept over to the nearest window looking onto her front porch and chanced a look outside. There was nothing out there. No massive beast with red eyes. There was no sign of foot or paw prints on the porch and in the dirt at the base of her front steps. The bushes she ran through looked like they’d been hit by a tornado, but she surmised that was due to her body passing through it. She quickly surveyed the blood running freely from deep gashes on both arms, and she felt a similar tickling as blood ran down her face and neck. Despite the pain, Tara laughed at herself. “It was probably just a freakin’ dog, stupid. It’s dark out, so you probably made it out to be bigger than it actually was. Some dogs have weird colored eyes.” She chuckled and flipped on the foyer light. Her embarrassment about freaking out about a dog chasing was compounded by her reflection in the mirror near the door. She thought, once again, that her mind was playing tricks on her, but her other senses validated what she saw. Her faded blue jeans were wet, but not from her rubbing her sweaty palms on them. The light blue fabric of her jeans was now much darker. As she moved her legs a little inside her jeans, the fabric stuck to her legs. The acrid odor coming from her jeans confirmed her fear. You completely wet your pants! Wait . . . Tara felt the crotch of her jeans grow warmer, and warmth spread down her thighs. She watch incredulously her already wet jeans grow wetter. If she had wet her pants and stopped, she was wetting them a second time. Or you’ve been pissing your pants the whole time. Tara’s pathetic whimper at realizing she peed in her pants like a little girl turned quickly to sobbing. Tara lived alone, so there was no one around to witness her disgrace. She was a 30-year old woman. Attractive. Single. Owned her own successful business. Was honest and had integrity. Stayed caught up on her bills . . . Considering all of this, Tara Toland still stood in her foyer feeling, and seeing, her bladder emptying it’s contents into her jeans. Her current predicament could certainly be worse. Tara realized it was. She knew the butt of her jeans, as well as down the backs of the legs, were soaked, but something else felt off back there. Tara continued sobbing as she tried to discern what else she was feeling. When she realized what it was, she actually gagged a little. Still crying in shame, Tara slowly turned around, so she could look at herself from behind. As she turned, she could feel the fabric of her panties heavier. Her bare butt and the backs of her legs were sticky. The soaked butt of her little-jeans were also lumpy and . . . . In her shame, Tara still tried to come up with an appropriate way to describe it. Squelchy. I can feel it swaying in my panties. At this point, Tara was too shocked to continue crying. She just looked at the reflection of her backside in the mirror as she would look at an alien lifeform that just materialized in the room. Tara gagged again, actually causing something to burn up the back of her throat. Don’t you dare throw up, bitch! This is bad enough. The minor lurch from her stomach caused her bowels to empty more mess in her pants. Tara just closed her eyes, listening to the semi-soft load crackle into her jeans. As it happened, Tara spread her legs and stuck out her butt a little - thinking maybe she wouldn’t feel the soft load against her bare butt. It didn’t work. She felt it, and the movement pushed some of the mess from the leg bands of her panties and down the backs of her legs. She grimaced and spread her legs even further apart. She also raised her arms a little out to her sides, as if she were performing a martial arts form. It seemed an eternity since she realized, with a terror nearly equal to being chased by a bloody-thirsty beast from the fifth dimension, that her body had betrayed her. But, she did feel a slight bit of relief that it was over. There was nothing left in her bladder and bowels to be released. Now, she faced the task of walking upstairs to her bathroom and cleaning herself up. The thought of walking three feet in peed and pooped-in pants did not fill her with joy, let alone walking up stairs that way. Realizing it wasn’t going to get any better just standing there, Tara sauntered up the stairs, feeling the mess in her pants squishing and swaying. She actually found a little humor imagining how she looked going up the stairs.
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