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Foxlover

Soaked Member
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  1. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from TheGreatNobody in The birth (and death?) of a pee paysite - The HD Wetting Story   
    ...I feel as though I've just read the issue of a popular comic book that just gave the long-awaited details of a superhero's origin story.
  2. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to TVGuy in The birth (and death?) of a pee paysite - The HD Wetting Story   
    Part 2 - The First Shoot
     
    While most people would likely want to keep quiet that they are shooting porn, Heather was excited.  Her vision of the adult industry mostly came from TV shows and movies, portraying pornographers as wealthy, but sleazy, and with little talent.  She figured we would be bringing in a six digit income by the end of the year, and was happy to tell her friends and family all about it.  I, on the other hand, preferred not tell anyone.
     
    Our run down apartment wouldn't make a good place to shoot.  Luckily, Heather had a friend who was as enthusiastic as she was about producing porn. She happily offered up our house for us.  This still left the matter of finding models, which I figured would be the most difficult part.  I wasn't at all confident we would find any attractive women who would be willing to wet their pants on camera, for a stranger, for hardly any money.
     
    I posted an ad on Craigslist looking for models.  Almost immediately I received two responses, Mikki and Haydee.  No other responses came in, so we went ahead and scheduled the shoot.
     
    Previously, I had been hired to crew on a large corporate video shoot.  This paid very well.  Enough that I was able to purchase my own professional HD camera and other gear.  Heather strongly objected to this purchase.  She had other ideas for how we could have spent that money, like buying her a new car.  I argued that with such a camera, I would be able to earn more money doing other freelance videos.  Unfortunately, the only thing I was able to get was wedding videos, and I wasn't making that much off of them.
     
    So it was this camera that I was using for the first HD Wetting videos.  It was a JVC HD110.  In video production circles, this camera and its predecessor were highly respected- A broadcast style HD camera with variable frame rates and ENG style lens for less than $10,000.  Already, the camera was making a big impact on documentary and independent films, having been used for Al Gore's film, An Inconvenient Truth.  My HD110 was outfitted with a Firestore hard drive recorder, so I could have an entirely file based work flow.
     

     
    On the day of the shoot we arrived at Heather's friend's house.  She had made cookies and put out drinks for us in the models, excited to be part of an adult video production.  Mikki arrived first, Haydee just minutes later.
     
    I had them sign all the paperwork, made a record of their ID's, then talked about the fetish in general, the idea behind the videos, what we were going to try to do with them, and asked if they had any questions or concerns.
     
    Both Mikki and Haydee simply thought it would be fun to get paid to pee in their pants.  Especially since that was all they had to do- There was no nudity, no sex, just peeing.  For them, it was quick and easy money.
     
    Mikki needed to go, so she was eager to shoot her video first.  The camera required large amounts of light, so we went outside to take advantage of the daylight.  I was extremely nervous and forgot some important settings on the camera- The gain was turned up, which made the image grainy.  Also, the white balance was off.  I was able to correct the white balance in editing, but it adversely affected image quality.
     
    We had no microphone, there was no sound coming into the camera.  The plan was to add some music later.  Mikki posed for the camera while I recorded some video of her, then she peed in her pants.  I continued to record.  She showed off her wet pants, briefly, then went inside to clean up.

    Next it was Haydee's turn.  We moved to a different spot, so it wouldn't look the same as Mikki's video, but pretty much did the same thing.
     
    I packed up the camera, paid the girls in cash, and we said goodbye.  Both girls expressed that they would love to do it again.
     
    The next day I uploaded the videos to Clips4sale and announced their creation on the old Wetset BBS.  A month later, the videos had earned $202.  Obviously not the six digit income that Heather was expecting, but it made more than what it cost, and was way nicer than shooting weddings.  Now that we new we could make some kind of income with these videos, the next step was to scale up.
     
    First HD Wetting video ever shot- vid_003.wmv
     
    Second HD Wetting video ever shot- vid_004.wmv
     
  3. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from satyr in Watersucker: The Desperation Prank   
    ...But I already showed up with a torch and an anger born of frenzied mob mentality rather than evidence.
  4. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to satyr in Watersucker: The Desperation Prank   
    Well, I can't find it anywhere either. Before we grab our pitchforks, let's see if OP shows up again. For all we know, the original author just found this forum and decided to repost an older story that's languishing in some ungoogleable website that may not even still be operational.
     
    A shame, because I'd like to read the continuation. It's an intriguing setup.
  5. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to TVGuy in The birth (and death?) of a pee paysite - The HD Wetting Story   
    Part 1 - Heather
     
    I told Heather about my fetish. It was terrifying.  Somehow, weeks earlier, I had let it slip to her that I had a fetish, though I was too ashamed to go into specifics.  Since this slip up, she had been pressuring me to tell her what it was.  I had never told anyone before, and was afraid of what she would think of me if she knew.
     
    Heather was my first serious girlfriend.  We met when I was in college.  Though never had sex, she was, at this point, the only person who I had ever done anything sexual with.  We had been living together for about a year in a small, run down apartment.  I was working in an entry level job at a local TV station, making just a few cents more than minimum wage.  She had just dropped out of the University, because she disagreed with her professors on matters of vaccines, and was now attending community college.
     
    I was the only one working, so we were trying to scrape by on my measly income.  Heather, however, desired a lifestyle beyond what could be supported with my TV station salary.  This led to a great number of fights.  In fact, about the only time we weren't fighting was when I gave her money or we were being intimate.
     
    She felt that it was my duty, as a man, to support her.  Something that she constantly pointed out my failure in.  In addition to working in TV, I started producing wedding videos.  This made us a bit of extra money, but there weren't that many opportunities for wedding videos, and I hated shooting them.  Still, when I did get a wedding gig and handed her that money, she would be happy for a while.
     
    Once she learned I had a fetish, she kept pressuring me to tell her.  She promised, multiple times, that whatever my fetish was she would do it for me if I just told her.  Still, I kept quite about it.  I tried to explain why I didn't want to tell her, but this got me know where.  So finally, one night, after having a couple drinks, I told her.
     
    Her reaction was hard to read.  She looked surprised, then said, "Okay."  After a few moments of silence she added, "That really isn't that bad.  I was afraid it was going to be much worse."
     
    After that, I didn't say anything more about it.  She didn't seem to have any desire to talk about it, and I was so humiliated having told her, that I was happy to move on and never bring it up again.
     
    The subject of my fetish didn't come up again for another few months.  I had just got paid from a wedding video I shot and gave the money to Heather.  This made her very happy.  She started teasing me, soon her clothes came off and we were on the bed.  Out of no where she asked if I still wanted to see her wet herself.  I was embarrassed, but said, "yes."
     
    She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bathroom.  Standing in the shower, water off, she spread her legs and proceeded to pee through her underwear while I watched.
     
    That summer I shot several more wedding videos.  Once I got paid, the pattern repeated itself.  Upon giving her the money she would reward me by wetting herself, then going down on me.  It was a great summer.  Unfortunately, money got tight again as we moved into the winter months and there weren't any weddings to shoot.  She strongly felt that I should start shooting porn.
     
    I, however, wasn't comfortable with the idea of making videos of people having sex.  Simply wetting themselves, on the other hand, seemed like something I could handle.  Heather thought this was a brilliant idea.  To set our videos apart from what other people were doing we would shoot in high definition.  I had read on Wired about this new site, Clips4sale, that makes it easy to sell home made adult videos.
     
    I hired a couple models on Craigslist and soon we had our first shoot.  Because high definition was what set us apart, we decided on the name "HD Wetting."  I registered on clips4sale and uploaded the videos.  It was 2007 and the first HD Wetting videos were online.
  6. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from space_cowboy in How's life with this fetish?   
    She nailed it on the head. Out of all my omo fantasies, the greatest is to meet someone I could share it with.
  7. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to kgirl17 in Is Anyone Here?   
    Just into desperation, but not the actually wetting part? Like for example there is a point in desperation once you have lost so much pee that your like... Let's just go to the bathroom now.
  8. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to Maria-Sanza in How's life with this fetish?   
    Pretty bad.
    Nobody to share it with.
     
    It is enjoyable to indulge in it by oneself, though, but it leaves something of a melancholic feeling afterwards.
  9. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to Weeing Willow in Wetting on plants... is this a bad idea?   
    Such an apt username. I love it.
  10. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to holditin in Indra vs Kira   
    I just wanted to give a little introduction to this latest story of mine.  It was not written how all my others have been, sitting at my computer and typing away.  Rather, this one was written on my phone during bus rides to work over a span of many months.  I looked it over and believe there are no plot holes or egregious repeats of words, but if there are, that's the reason for it.  After finishing it on my phone, I went onto my computer and typed it all out, which took nearly a week's worth of free time to finish.  So I hope everyone enjoys it, because I put in a lot of work to make it happen.  
     
    Also, if anyone has future story ideas they'd like to see, as long as they involve a bladder of steel or two, be sure to message them to me.  I love hearing new ideas.  And without further ado, here's Indra vs Kira.
     
     
    Day 1

     
    Growing up as a girl in India, my parents tended to be strict with me on certain issues.  My bedtime, meal portions, and most central to this particular story, my bathroom habits.  You see, in the area we lived in, sanitary bathrooms were not exactly easy to come by.  This problem was doubled by the fact that I was a girl, because while men had no hesitation in whipping it out and taking a leak on a side road, it was considered extremely indecent for me to pop a squat in any but the most enclosed of spaces.  Unfortunately, luck was not on my side in this matter, because growing up I had always had a bladder that was, shall we say, below average.  That’s probably putting it kindly, as my parents would complain to no end about my lack of control.  But whether they tried forbidding bathroom breaks, mandating regular sphincter training, or even messing with liquid intake, it didn’t make a difference.  I was just as liable to pee myself no matter what, a fact that brought my parents great shame.  I couldn’t deal with the constant embarrassment, and when an opportunity arose for me to escape the situation, I took it.
     
    A special exchange program had been set up with some high schools in my district of India and some in the southern United States of America.  I graded highly enough in my studies to qualify for the opportunity, and I jumped at the chance.  My parents didn’t really question my decision, and I think they realized it would be best for everyone involved.  Two weeks later I was a freshman at Houston Area High School in beautiful Texas.  All exchange students were set up in college style apartments, and though we were admittedly young to basically be living on our own, we all quickly got the hang of it.  An interesting thing happened when I was finally free from the burden of my parents; constant pressure – my bladder control began to improve.  At first I thought I was just imagining things, but as my pees became more and more volumous, I had to admit that my bladder actually seemed to be getting bigger.  Before long I wasn’t peeing at all during the school day, and after such a long time of hating my weak bladder, I quickly began gaining pride in my new and improved holding tank.  Even my classmates began to take notice of how long I was waiting before relieving myself.  By my senior year I was a bona fide All Day Girl.  My bladder of steel always seemed to have extra room, no matter how much I drank or how long I went without a bathroom break.
     
    As my senior year drew to a close, my parents made arrangements to come and visit for the graduation, followed by a trip around the US, as they had never been there before and intended to take it all in.  As we chatted on the phone a week prior to the visit, making final preparations, I casually mentioned that I was much better at waiting for bathroom breaks now.  Instead of the flood of well wishes I expected to receive for this comment, my mother gave a short laugh, one quickly echoed by my father, and sarcastically told me that that was good.  She then changed the subject entirely.  It was clear to me that she didn’t believe me in the slightest.  When the conversation ended I found myself nearly heartbroken by this…  But then my demeanor changed.  If they weren’t going to believe me, then the only way to prove it to them would be to show them in person.
     
    My graduation took place on a cool Saturday evening at a converted church, of all places.  My parents were both in attendance, along with my older sister Kira.  Oh Kira, as happy as I was to see my older sister, just now finishing her studies in engineering at a respected Indian university, I couldn’t help but be reminded of how she was the favorite sibling of Mom and Dad.  Not only was she admittedly more studious than I and regarded as a much better and more proper Indian woman, but Kira also kept my parents’ favor by way of her iron bladder control.  While I was complaining of holding it after mere hours, Kira would be showing no greater sign of needing a toilet than pressing her thighs together, often waiting the better part of a day before seeking relief.  I was sure she had kept up with her bladder training while at university, but secretly I hoped my capacity had overtaken hers.
     
    I was backstage, waiting for the graduation ceremony to begin, when I peered to the seating area and saw my family choosing a good vantage point from which to spot me.  I watched as Kira held the seats while my parents visited the lavatories.  While they still prided their daughters on their ability to last without a restroom, age had finally caught up to them in this regard.  Kira seemed to be keeping her legs close together, but otherwise looked as calm and frankly as beautiful and perfect as she had years ago when I had seen her last.  I had no shame admitting that she was the taller, prettier sister, but hopefully I could now make the case for being the better-bladdered sister.  In accordance with my plan to achieve this end, I took another long swig from the water bottle I was carrying with me.  Two others sat empty in a waste bin, consumed in the hour since I’d arrived at the church.  I’d relieved myself at noon and that was it.  Now it was closing in on 7 pm, so I was definitely feeling something building up inside me, but thanks to my newfound status as an All Day Girl, there was no urgency.
     
    Finally, at 7, the ceremony began.  Truthfully it was overly long and induced severe boredom, both among the graduates and the audience, but it was still a rush to hear the name “Indra Patil” boom over the pa system as I made my way across the stage.  I beamed as my family shouted and cheered for me, and that high was enough to sustain me until we were all made free to go at 9 pm.
     
    “Indra, darling!  That was wonderful!” My mother yelled with delight as she hugged me tight in the lobby.  My father was next, more compoased but as happy as I’d ever seen him nonetheless.  Big sis gave me a good hug as well, and I was on cloud 9 when my mother suddenly asked, “Do you need to use the bathroom before we leave for the hotel?”  I furrowed my brow and replied incredulously, “Isn’t it only a 15 minute ride from here?”  “Well yes,” my mom replied, “But I just wanted to make sure you’d be alright.  That was a long ceremony, after all, and I know you’re not like Kira.  You haven’t gone since the airport back in Mumbai, have you?”  Kira shook her head, demurely so as not to embarrass me further, but clearly still proud of her bladder’s lasting ability.  I still noticed my sister’s closely held legs and took note that the long hold was taking its toll.  While my own bladder was also nagging me due to the three waters I’d chugged down, I made a point to stand with my legs apart as I responded, “It’s ok.  I’m not a little girl anymore.  I can hold it if I need to.  I was actually hoping we could go out to dinner before we hit the hotel.”  My father merely shrugged as if to say “your funeral” while my mother regarded me with a look that mixed slight shock with begrudging respect.  She then turned to my sister, no doubt aware that Kira had probably been expecting to get free from her long held waters within the hour.  “Is that ok with you?”  My mother asked her.  No mention was made of Kira’s bladder state, but the implication was clear.  My mother knew my iron bladdered sister had been holding on for most of the day, and she didn’t want to push the golden goose too far.  Tension hung in the air, however, because it was not often that Kira even needed to be consulted about such a matter.  But my sister, my perfect, irrepressible sister, just smiled and nodded, “Of course, dinner would be lovely!”  Only my well-trained eye saw that her smile was fake.
     
    And so we went to a nearby steakhouse for some much needed sustenance.  My family was unaccustomed to the Texas cuisine but quickly grew to enjoy it, despite “its lack of anything resembling spice” as my father put it.  by the time we’d reached the restaurant those water bottles were definitely wanting to come out of me, but I just handled the increasing pressure and sipped at my medium Coke.  I was used to enduring classes with more of an urge than this, so I knew I’d be ok.  Kira was also drinking sporadically from her glass of water, but I caught a glimpse of her legs under the table, and they were crossed at the ankles.  She was keeping her composure quite well, however, and I wondered briefly if I’d underestimated her bladder capacity.  As dinner progressed and Kira’s need didn’t seem to increase, my skepticism in my own bladder returned.  Here I was, a confident girl with a bladder that had grown enough to take on all comers in the last couple of years, but as soon as I found myself in the same situation I’d faced so many times as a kid, it was like I reverted back to the state of mind I had all those years ago.  Suddenly my brain was telling me that my bladder wasn’t big enough or strong enough to last, especially compared to my ever so perfect big sis.
     
    Dinner was finished by 10 and with nothing left to distract me, my bladder felt like a lead weight in my abdomen.  At this point I couldn’t tell how much of my urgency was psychological and how much was the 2 plus liters of liquid I’d consumed wanting to escape.  As we readied to rise from the table, I was presented with a defining choice.  I could admit my need to my parents, follow them dutifully but shamefully to the restrooms and pee to my heart’s content while Kira and her superbladder waited outside.  This was the safe option.  I’d already lasted longer than any of my family expected, after all.  The point had been made to an adequate degree, and maybe, just maybe, I’d held long enough to earn my parents’ respect.  Or…I could follow through with my original plan.  I could wait longer, and trust that my bladder had enough space and strength in it to last until we reached the hotel.  I could prove that my bladder was now a match for Kira.  I was on shaky legs as I got up from the table, more from the gravity of the choice in front of me than from my desperation.  I glanced over at Kira as she stood.  When she thought no one was looking, my sister pressed her legs together hard.  It only lasted a second before she went back to standing normally, but I had seen it, and that bit of desperation inspired me.  Kira’s bladder was strong, but it wasn’t superhuman.  She needed relief at some point too.  Perhaps I could last as long. 
     
    Gritting my teeth to keep from opening my mouth and backing out of my risky decision to continue holding, I followed my family towards the bathrooms.  My father entered the men’s room with a grunt, and my mom walked towards the ladies’.  When she got to the door she realized that I was not behind her, and turned to ask me, “Aren’t you using the bathroom now dear?  You haven’t gone since just before the ceremony.”  I nearly just shook my head as a response, but when my mother added that second sentence so naturally, as if it was obvious that I’d peed my tiny bladder empty right before walking on stage because that was surely the only way I’d lasted this long, I couldn’t help but issue a confident retort.  “Don’t worry mother.  I can wait until I am at a more proper place.”  My mother again gave me that look I’d seen so rarely out of her, a mixture of respect and bewilderment, before entering the bathroom to relieve herself.
     
    My sister and I stood and made chitchat, both clearly very much in need of the toilets that were now mere feet away, but both continuing to resist them out of pride and good manners.  If Kira was impressed with my holding ability thus far she certainly wasn’t showing it.  I consoled my ego by telling it that she was clearly just much too desperate to pay me the proper attention.  But soon enough our parents returned.  Thankful to be spared of more awkwardness, I began to walk out of the restaurant.  “Indra, are you sure you don’t also need to go?” My mom asked from behind me.  This time I just smiled and shook my head.
     
    We arrived at the hotel at 11 at night.  11 hours since I’d seen the inside of a restroom, and probably a few more than that for poor Kira.  Despite my sister’s reputation, she was obviously eager to get to our room and free herself from her load of pee.  Our room was on the 3rd floor, and when we reached it Kira was the first to enter.  She put down her purse on one of the beds while the rest of us entered and quickly made her way into the bathroom situated near the front door.  To say she ran in or desperately entered is to do a disservice to Kira’s composure.  Her huge bladder is known in my family for a reason, after all.  But at the same time, the large amount of urine she was containing clearly needed exit soon, one way or another.  My own bladder was beginning to brim with fullness, and I feared that my composure probably didn’t far exceed my sister’s at this moment.  I clenched my sphincter hard in anticipation of having to hear Kira’s stream pounding the toilet bowl, and my intuition was correct.  There were a few seconds of rustling sounds, followed by a loud hiss as Kira’s piss finally escaped her.  My own bladder began to spasm at the sound.  It was all I could do to bunch my hands up in my graduation robe and not hold myself openly.  I knew that if I did I’d lose all the respect I’d built up with my parents over the course of the night.  After perhaps two minutes Kira’s stream dwindled and stopped.  It was a piss to remember, and normally I’d be marveling at my sister’s unbelievable bladder capacity.  But after my time in America, I was no longer as impressed.  In fact, I thought I could take her.
     
    Another minute and Kira exited the bathroom, looking truly comfortable for the first time in hours.  My father was busy unpacking, but my mother leaned over and told Kira, “It was good of you to wait.”  That was about as close as my parents would ever get to addressing someone else’s bladder need, even in private.  Kira nodded to her, equal parts confident and delighted to have made her mother happy.  Then my sister turned to me, and I saw her smile waver just a bit as she looked me in the eye.  In the good old days such a urinary feat would have been met with reverence, respect, and perhaps a tinge of jealousy from me.  But as I looked back at her, I knew she saw none of those elements in my visage now.  It was time to put the final stage of my plan into action.
     
    Casually I walked to the bathroom.  My bladder began spasming again with its relief now so near at hand, but I forced myself to continue walking normally.  I entered, took off my grad robe, pulled down the skirt I had underneath, then my sliiightly skimpy panties, and released.  The whole day of tanking up on drinks had led to this moment, and I hoped it would be worth it.  My urine began to hit the water below it, first as a pitter patter, but steadily increasing in volume and strength.  15 seconds into my pee and it sounded nearly like a jet was taking off in the bathroom.  Being in such an enclosed space, it was tough to gage how loud my pee was compared to my sister’s, but either way I knew without a doubt that everyone in the bedroom could hear what I was pouring into the toilet.  I tried to stop it, but as the waterfall continued to emanate from my vagina, a moan of pleasure escaped my lips.  I loved being able to contain so much pee for so long, but when it finally had to come out, the relief was sure worth it.  Another minute passed and I felt myself starting to grow empty.  Wanting to make this as good a show as possible to my sure to be listening family, I squeezed off my flow until it was a mere trickle.  I let that thin stream go on for a good 20 seconds, no problem for my sphincter muscles, even after such a taxing hold, just to let them all think I was about ready to finish up.  Then I bore down with everything I had, instantly flushing the rest of my piss out of my stretched bladder and into the bowl.  The hiss this produced was extraordinary, as what had to be a half liter of pee was expelled from me in a matter of seconds.
     
    Empty at last, I breathed deeply, trying to compose myself.  Inside, my mind was a whirlwind, wondering how my family would react to such a display, especially from the supposed runt of the litter, bladder-wise.  I quickly pulled my garments back up, heart beating like crazy, washed my hands, and reentered the bedroom.  My parents were making a show of busying themselves with unpacking, but I could tell it was a put on.  The tension in the room was palpably thick.  My newfound bladder capacity was the elephant in the room.  As I prepped for bed I saw Kira staring at me.  Her face showed concentration, but also something else.  Then she nodded slightly and went to change.  I pondered that look for an hour as I tried to fall asleep on the hard hotel bed, and finally I figured it out, just before I drifted off to sleep.  While I’d intended for my huge piss to be the end of my plan, in reality I’d just thrown the gauntlet down.  Kira’s nod was her way of saying, “Ok Indra, my little sister, you want to act like you have the iron bladder in this family.  You’ll have to prove it.  Consider the challenge accepted.”  “Challenge accepted indeed,” I breathed as sleep took its hold on me.
     
    Day 2

     
    I awoke the next morning to the sounds of my parents bustling around getting ready for the day.  Yawning, I slipped out of bed to begin the arduous process of waking up.  Kira had already changed into her clothes for the day and I quickly did the same.  Obviously my parents did not have any clothes of mine that still fit, so Kira had generously lent me half of her wardrobe for the vacation.  She was skinnier than I, so the jeans shorts I’d chosen were a very tight fit, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice anyway.  By 9 am we were nearly ready to leave, so my parents availed themselves to the facilities one last time.  I wondered if my sister and her iron bladder would decide to wait, but she went in right after them to take a hefty morning pee.  It was down to me.  As Kira’s pee droned on, I contemplated whether I should partake of a morning pee as well.  I didn’t really need it, though my bladder certainly had something decent already inside with how much I had drank the previous day. In the end, I decided that if Kira could have a pee then so could I.  Better to have it now than to need to stop mere hours into our day.  As she came out of the bathroom I slipped in.  A quick stare passed between us before I shut the door.  My muscles loosened right away when I sat on the toilet, and the feeling of my bladder deflating as my morning pee left it was perhaps even better than it was last night.  Clearly my bladder, trained though it was, was happy for the extra relief.
     
    We left our hotel and headed out for a day of sightseeing in Houston.  As the person who had lived there for the last four years, my parents occasionally asked me for directions or recommendations about where to go next, but for the most part Kira and I were relegated to the role of followers.  My parents had been planning this trip meticulously for quite some time, so they had done plenty of research on the places they wanted to visit.  With the Texas sun beating down on us, we were all equipped with large water bottles of 1.5 liters each, and they were emptying at an alarming rate.  Kira and I wanted to stop to get some real lunch after hours of walking, but my parents allowed us nothing more than a quick stop to refill our water and for them to pee out what they had drank.  I was feeling no urge, so waiting was an easy choice.  Kira paid the bathroom no mind, window shopping until our parents returned.
     
    After more walking, more pictures, and more sights successfully seen, we finally stopped for an extremely late lunch at 3 pm.  Kira and I shared a look of exasperated glee at getting the chance to fill our stomachs and rest our feet.  I was happy for that look, because it was the first time since last night when both Kira and I were on the same page, as opposed to being bladder rivals.  She may have wanted to make my bladder pop to prove a point, and that went both ways, but we were still sisters.  We ordered our food, mine coming with a tall lemonade and Kira’s with a large soda, and ate and drank our fill.  Both Kira and I made sure to drain our glasses and the refills we were given.  It was 4 by the time we finished, which meant neither Kira nor I had visited a bathroom for 7 hours.  For an everday girl that would be impressive, but Kira and I possessed bladders that were far from ordinary.  Still, I could feel some pee sloshing around in me when I stood up to leave.  If Kira felt the same way she showed no sign, standing calmly while our parents peed for the second time on our outing.  I caught Kira sizing me up out of the corner of my eye, as if trying to get a gage on my bladder’s condition, so I made sure to stand with my legs farther apart than normal.  Upon returning from the restaurant’s washrooms, my mother told us, “You girls have been really good thus far.  If either of you get tired, especially you Indra, just let your father and I know and we’ll head back to the hotel.”  I read between the lines of my mother’s message to uncover what she was really saying, which was “You two are doing a good job of waiting until we are in a proper place to relieve yourselves.  If either of you get desperate, let us know so we can spare you that indecency.”  Once again, my mother had recognized that both Kira and I were going all day without a toilet and was giving us an out should we need it.  But the fact that she singled me out “especially you Indra”, implying that I would need a bathroom well before Kira, made my blood boil.  There was no way I was going to let myself pee if my iron bladdered sister was still holding on.
     
    The afternoon passed much as the morning had.  Kira and I quickly needed to stop at a water fountain, as our big water bottles were empty for a second time.  Kira immediately took a long swig from her bottle, so I followed in kind, after which we filled them right back to the brim.  Kira gave me a glance as we rejoined our parents before taking another long drink.  Again I followed suit, and that’s when I realized what she was doing.  Kira knew I was determined to prove myself and would match her drinking, so she was trying to drink me under the table, so to speak.  The confident half of my brain told me that Kira was trying to force an early end to our contest because she was nervous about her continued ability to hold for hours longer; the more reserved half of me was afraid it would work.  I forced myself to remain calm.  I reminded myself of my bladder’s prowess, thought of all the training that had led to this weekend, and determined once again to hold firm.  As the four of us began walking again, I caught Kira’s eye and took a five second chug from my water bottle.  Kira’s eyes squinted in annoyance as she drank more as well.
     
    With this brand of drinking bravado, Kira and I managed to drain our water bottles dry in only 20 minutes.  The effect wasn’t instantaneous, but it was close.  By 8 pm it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide my need to pee.  My bladder had expanded greatly, going from being tight against those wretched too-small jeans shorts to being nearly suffocated against them.  I looked down briefly and realized I could see the roundedness of my bladder bulge begin above the shorts, get right up to the edge of the waistband, and then get pressed inward as the constricting shorts refused to budge.  I made an attempt to be discreet and put my hand below the snap of the jeans shorts.  Sure enough, my bladder was also protruding out down there, meaning those dreadful shorts were literally pushing my bladder back into itself at the exact apex of its size.  My capacity was being restricted at the very time I needed it most.  Cautiously, I glanced over at my sister.  She was more used to the tighter clothes than I, and in fact was in something similar herself.  How was she managing to cope with it while I felt my bladder being squeezed and tormented?  Then I saw her trick.  Kira had casually unbuttoned the snap of her jeans, letting her gigantic bladder bulge expand as much as it needed to minimize the pressure on it.  Though by how large it looked, it must have been a lot of pressure anyway!  As I continued to watch my well-practiced sister, I noticed her either turning away slightly or doing something distracting with her hands every time my mother or father would go to speak to her.  In this way she was managing to hide her improper attire decision from them.  I was clearly watching a master at work.  Slowly, while everyone had their back to me, I reached down towards my own button.
     
    I almost undid the snap.  My bladder was screaming for me to.  But I stopped myself.  For one thing, while Kira had years of experience doing this, keeping her clothing modifications a secret from our parents, it would be my first time at it, and I didn’t think I could pull it off.  If my mother saw me walking around in public with unbuttoned pants even for a second it would undo all the goodwill and respect I had gained in the last 24 hours.  I simply couldn’t let that happen.  But secondly, that deeper part of my psyche that I had started listening to more and more wanted to keep that snap shut and keep the pressure on.  It proved I could hold on despite the circumstances, that my bladder was strong enough to cope with it, and it showed that I was doing something that the proclaimed iron bladder of the family wasn’t daring to do.  I felt superior to Kira, and that feeling was far too addictive.  I couldn’t undo that button, no matter what my bladder said in protest.
     
    And so I suffered silently, putting off my bladder’s needs for pride.  My bulbous bladder continued to try and break through that deadly button, but to no avail.  It simply grew around it, to the point that the pain was starting to make me a bit queasy.  But I had come this far, and even though it hurt I knew my limits were still ahead of me.  9 pm came and finally it was full dark.  Reluctantly, my mother made the call to return to the hotel.  Inside I was joyous, knowing the torment I was going through would soon be over.  But on the outside, I did my best to look calm.  I think I succeeded.  In past years, my parents would notice my relief at getting to the end of a long journey, and they’d guess correctly that the reason for my emotion was my full and quivering bladder, desperate to be emptied.  Inevitably they would shoot me a disapproving glare or make a comment about needing to be stronger.  Tonight they paid me no heed.  I saw Kira breathe outwardly, probably in relief at not having to contain her load much longer, but I wasn’t sure.  I could have been grasping for a sign that she had to go worse than me, because I desperately wanted that to be true.  But nothing other than her close steps and the ominous bulge of her abdomen over her tight shorts belied the urgency Kira had to be feeling.  I had to admit that my sister was succeeding in living up to her reputation.
     
    By the time we reached our hotel at 10 pm, Kira’s steps may have been shorter than when we started to return, but otherwise she was doing a remarkable job of keeping her 13 hour bladder in check.  I, on the other hand, was feeling the fullness get to me.  I struggled, but I couldn’t help coming off as tense when my father turned to ask me something 10 minutes from the hotel.  As he turned back around, Kira gave me a look that said “I know you’re just about done in.  I’m winning.”  I feared she might very well be right and redoubled my efforts to clamp down on my sphincter.  When we got inside, my mother immediately entered the bathroom.  My father was waiting at the door for his turn.  Kira and I gingerly made our way to our bed to sit and ready ourselves for bed, though she was still managing to come off as pristine as ever, while I seemed to be on the verge of losing what slight control I had.  It was only once we began sitting that I reminded myself for the first time in an hour that Kira’s button was undone, while my bladder remained squashed.  This information was of little use to me, as I still refused point blank to undo the button, but it gave me the little ray of hope I needed to muster the strength to last until bedtime.  That came at 11 pm at the urging of my parents, who reminded both of us that we had a long day ahead of us tomorrow.  Indeed we did, a winding, all day bus trip that would land us in Oklahoma City.
     
    Kira had no shame in going to use the loo first.  I almost, almost cracked and asked to go first, but somehow I resisted.  After doing so well, I couldn’t bear to show weakness, even when it was past when my parents would be able to accuse me of being weak.  After all, I’d just been 14 hours without a pee, but in my holding delirium, I wanted more.  I wanted to stay strong for so much longer, and leave my parents, and especially my steel bladdered sister in awe.  For a brief second I considered going to bed unrelieved, but then Kira’s torrent started to hiss from the bathroom, and my bladder spasmed hard enough to make me realize that that was simply not going to be a possibility on this night.  And so I clenched my thighs together, willing myself not to start holding my crotch in my presence of my parents, and waited for the interminable splatter to end so that mine could take its place.
     
    It was perhaps 3 minutes later when Kira’s massive organ ran dry, and another before she calmly exited the bathroom.  While the previous night I had felt confidence mixed with the beginnings of desperation as I went in to follow my sister’s pee, tonight I wanted to let loose so badly I could think of nothing else.  I walked in quickly, nearly bumping Kira in the process, which earned a smirk from her, but then I was in the bathroom and the door was shut.  Frantically I undid the button of those terrible jeans shorts and threw up the toilet lid.  I was milliseconds from bending my knees to sit atop that gorgeous porcelain throne when I stopped. My bladder, which seconds before had been cramping with urge after urge to let go, was suddenly calmer.  Not calm, because there was still a heck of a lot of liquids stored up in it, but I no longer felt as though I was on the verge of wetting myself.  Even though I could let go in the toilet bowl at any moment I chose, I stood and thought.  What changed to make the urge die down so completely when I was SO SURE that I was done in?  it wasn’t easy to wrack my brain with liters of hot pee wracking my stretched bladder, but I forced myself to continue waiting.  With the inviting toilet bowl staring me in the face, I finally realized what had been so obvious.
     
    The shorts!  No wonder my bladder was throwing so many spasms against my sphincter as the night wore on.  That cursed button had been digging into the very core of my bladder at a time when it needed all the capacity it could muster.  Kira had been smart enough to loosen her shorts, but my sick pride prevented me from doing the same to ease my strain.  That pride had almost cost me everything…but it hadn’t.  I had lasted.  As I thought about that more a chill of pleasure ran up my spine.  It nearly loosened my sphincter enough to allow a gush on the bathroom floor, but I denied myself even that.  I began to ponder my options as I stood there.  That little demented part of my mind, the one that seemed to be growing the longer my sisterly contest went, wanted me to walk out of the bathroom unrelieved.  I considered it as my bulbous bladder throbbed, but eventually brushed the idea aside.  I had to think long term, for there was still plenty of trip left.  Another plan soon formed in my mind, and I smiled as I fantasized about its implications.  But that was for tomorrow, and tonight, my bladder needed to be emptied of over 14 hours of piss.
     
    Dong my best to keep from being eager, I finally lowered onto the toilet seat.  One, two, three seconds I waited, still resisting, just to remind my aching bladder of who was in control.  Then I relaxed my sphincter and let my body have the pee it had been craving for hours.  I was like a tap turned on full, which impressed me greatly.  I hoped my family would have similar thoughts, though I knew that at the very least Kira would refrain from showing me.  One minute turned to two and my stream continued unabated.  My bulge was decreasing but wasn’t flat yet. Instead of being content with my current flow, I bore down with my abdominal muscles, urging my bladder to release even faster.  For a moment there was no change, but then my stream seemed to nearly double in width.  I could actually feel my piss pushing my peehole wider and wider, which was a crazy rush.  After 30 seconds of roaring pee splashing into the toilet, I finally ran dry.  Sighing with relief and pleasure, I rubbed my now-flat abdomen and stood up.  I pulled the jeans shorts back up, noticing as I snapped the button back into place that they felt looser than they had in hours.  Then I washed my hands and went back into our hotel bedroom.
     
    Once again I felt the tension in the air upon my return from the bathroom.  It was not as bad as the previous day, but it was certainly still present.  I had just proved that my pee prowess was no fluke.  No one spoke as I flopped down on the bed next to Kira, but it seemed as though everyone wanted to.  I busied myself with preparing my belongings for tomorrow, when we would be leaving the hotel to take our bus trip to Oklahoma City.  My mom suddenly cleared her throat, “You know, Indra, I must say-“  “Mother, what should I wear tomorrow, do you think?” Kira cut in suddenly, and at once our mother changed her tune to speak on the virtues of the long sleeved shirt.  It took me a few moments to realize what had just happened, but it dawned on me that Kira had just stolen my moment.  My mom was fully prepared to acknowledge my prodigious bladder capacity in front of the entire family and Kira had instantly stopped her and changed the subject!  It wasn’t often the “b” word entered my mind regarding my sister, but in light of her blatant sabotage of my compliment, I felt the word boiling to my lips and had to bite my tongue to keep it back.  Any remaining qualms I had about beating Kira’s bladder into submission vanished, and as sleep overtook me that night, all I could think was “This.  Means.  War.”
     
    Day 3

     
    I awoke the following morning with sleepy eyes, an ache in my back, and a very slight protrusion in my abdomen.  I wouldn’t call it a bulge, not yet, but it was clear my kidneys had been doing some work during the night.  it was probably a bit less than what I’d been holding the previous morning, but was certainly an amount that any sane individual would want to rid themselves of before starting their day.  Slowly I pulled myself off the bed and got to work finishing my packing.  A quick check of my phone revealed that it was 8 am, so 9 hours had passed since I felt desperate relief the last evening.  I carefully selected sweatpants with a stretchy elastic waistband, not wanting to repeat the horrors of the day before, and when I was sure my parents weren’t looking, I deftly slipped off my panties and put them in my bag.  The less I had constricting my bladder the better, though this also meant greater risk, because if I let loose a spurt there would be nothing to prevent it from instantly becoming visible on my pants.  Kira woke up just as I had finished my wardrobe change, and I noted that she also opted for sweatpants, though she justified it to our parents by talking about wanting to be more comfortable on the bus.  By 8:30 we were ready to leave, with both of our parents having just entered the loo to ensure they’d be ok for the start of the ride.  On the previous days Kira had shown no shame in peeing first after our holds, but on this day she seemed to be making the distinct point of waiting until I’d gone, standing as far away from the bathroom door as possible as we prepared to leave.  I sniggered to myself at this.  She would be in for quite a shock.
     
    My father had used the toilet first, and when my mother exited after him she kind of gestured with her body language that my sister and I could go in now.  Kira continued to stubbornly wait for me, barely even acknowledging that the bathroom was open, and I was about to make her pay for it.  “No thanks, Mom, I’m fine thank you.  Kira might need it, however.  It’ll be a long ride.”  I batted my eyes in my sister’s direction as I said the last sentence.  I could scarcely believe I’d laid out such a brazen, public challenge to her, especially about such a taboo topic, and I could feel my adrenaline pumping as we stared each other down.  Kira paused for a few seconds, wide eyed from my display, but when she replied it was in an even, confident tone, “Oh, of course I’ll be fine.  Let’s go!”
     
    My father let out a sigh of slight exasperation, perhaps thinking our egos were getting the better of us.  But mother beamed with pride, maybe mixed with a bit of fear, but pride nonetheless, at the thought of her two girls being so strong.  It looked like she was finally getting used to having two iron bladdered daughters instead of one.  And so the four of us paraded out the door, left the hotel, hailed a cab, and reached the bus station by 9, Kira and I both with 10 hours of pee being stoically held by our strong sphincter muscles.  After another half hour of wait, during which the four of us casually sipped from our water bottles, the bus arrived, so we piled on.  We were in the back half of the bus, with maybe four rows of seats behind us.  I sat at the window next to my mother, and on the other side of the aisle Kira sat with our father.  The seating was random, but also, perhaps subconsciously, fitting.  After all, by taking the window seats, Kira and I were restricting ourselves from having ease of access to the bus lavatory, since we would need to both ask permission and crawl over our parents to reach the loo.  It was just subtle psychological warfare between the two of us.  Even if this impromptu holding contest wasn’t taking place, both of us would still easily be able to wait for a rest stop.
     
    The bus left at 10 am sharp.  It was nearly full.  Unless people hadn’t filled out the back, only two seats were free from what I could see.  And since I had no intention of going back to use the onboard facilities, I obviously had no reason to look to the rear of the bus.  The first two hours of the trip passed uneventfully.  Kira and I continued to take large gulps from our oversized water bottles while our parents nursed theirs at a much slower pace.  By constantly peering over at each other to keep track of the other sister’s progress, we were able to polish off our waters almost simultaneously at 12 pm.  Our first rest stop was in half an hour, and I was content to wait until then to refill my water.  After all, already there was 1.5 liters of water sloshing through my stomach and making its way to my bladder on top of my morning pee.  Such was the same for Kira, but as I snuck a glance at her I saw her make quick eye contact with me.  Then she turned to our father and asked for his half full water bottle, claiming to be thirsty.  Father gave her a look that seemed to say “Don’t be stupid”, but Kira returned fire with a condescending yet steely glare that meant “Do you realize who you’re talking to?”  Father sighed and handed over the bottle.  Kira was nice enough not to drain it, but by the time she’d finished sucking water from it, there had to be an 500 ml making its way towards her expanding bladder.  Then she handed back the bottle and looked at me mockingly, daring me to do the same.  Like I needed the invitation.
     
    “Mother, can I please have some of your water?  I’m quite thirsty, and as you can see, mine is empty.”  I pouted and shook my empty water bottle for effect.  My mother’s face began to show fear.  Try as she might, it seemed she was still having a hard time adjusting to my new status as “big bladdered daughter number two”.  “Are you sure you want it?” she asked me in a low voice.  We both knew I wasn’t thirsty and just wanted to prove a point, though I’m sure she didn’t realize the extent of Kira and my holding contest.  “Yes,” I replied confidently, “I’m thirsty.”  My mother stared at me for a few seconds, waiting for me to crack and take back my request.  When I didn’t she sighed, tried to smile to herself a little, and handed over her water bottle.  I did my best to drink a comparable amount to Kira, handed it back, and rested my head on the window, waiting for the rest stop.
     
    We ended up being late to the rest stop, arriving at 1 pm.  I’d noticed my mother sitting rigidly as the clock passed 12:30, but she managed to call upon her reserves of bladder strength and wait.  But she was up right away when we stopped, and I knew her bladder was bursting.  I, on the other hand, felt comfortable despite 14 hours of pee sitting in my bloating bladder.  Kira too gave no sign of needing relief at the stop, and so we both patiently waited our turn and exited the bus.  I noticed, as we made our way inside the stop, which was basically a large food court, that Kira and I were the only two women to not immediately head to the restrooms.  What I was sure of was that we were the only two that hadn’t gone that morning, as well as the only two with two liters of water coursing through their systems.
     
    I decided to take action.  “Here, let me fill that back up for you, sis,” I said, grabbing her empty bottle and walking to the water fountain.  She made no effort to stop me.  Instead, I noticed an odd, thoughtful look on her visage, but dismissed it and began letting the water pour into the bottles, secretly imagining all of it pouring straight into my enormous bladder.  I saw my lower stomach growing and growing in my head, and nearly lost myself in the fantasy.  When I recovered, both water bottles were brimming with bladder torturing liquid.  I took them and turned to find Kira, but my sister was right behind me already.  She was holding up two half liter bottles of cranberry juice.  “I’m tired of just water.  I think we should mix things up,” she said with a mischievous grin, trading me one water bottle for one cranberry juice bottle, giving us both an additional two liters of fluid to suck down and hold on to.  It was certainly a lot of liquid, but I didn’t flinch, accepting the bottle and following her back to the bus, having found no relief at the so-called rest stop.
     
    We sat back down in our respective seats and Kira instantly began sipping at her refilled water.  Refusing to be outdone, I did the same, and by the time the bus was ready to leave, we had both drained another half liter each.  Our parents were beside us again, so talk was kept to a minimum, but from the glances my mother was giving to both of us, it was clear she was having trouble reconciling her joy in our bathroom etiquette with her fear of us losing it on the bus.  I just smiled wanly.
     
    By 2:30 I decided to crack open my cranberry juice.  Personally I wasn’t a big fan of the stuff, finding it rather bitter.  Before touching it to my lips, I thought back and remembered that Kira wasn’t much of a cranberry juice drinker either.  So why now?  On a whim I began to read the label, my eyes scrolling down through the listing of ingredients and nutrients.  I was about to shrug and take a swig when I saw it.  ‘Can act as a mild diuretic.’  Now I was intrigued.  Why would Kira pick this drink in particular?  Was it chance, or did she know of cranberry juice’s diuretic properties?  And if she did, why would she get it, knowing full well that she would also have to endure the extra pee flooding into her well trained bladder?  I sat and contemplated this, then came up with the answer. Kira was trying the same strategy she’d used the previous day.  She was trying to push the liquids to a great degree, betting that her ability to wait at full capacity would outlast my own.  Surely the way yesterday ended had given her hope for this strategy, as it was I who was the more obviously desperate of the two when we finally reached the hotel in the evening.  I’m sure she figured if she kicked the fluids up one more notch with the diuretic-laden drink, I would have no choice but to fold.  However, she had overlooked one very important point.  I hadn’t nearly lost my load yesterday because of the large quantities of water I consumed in the afternoon, but rather due to the unbearable tightness of her tiny jeans shorts pressed right on my full bladder.  With both of us clad in comfy sweatpants on the air conditioned bus, this would be a nonissue for me.  I was determined to hold out, no matter the stakes.
     
    With a grin to myself, I threw back my head and consumed the entire bottle of cranberry juice at once, sighing loudly enough upon completion to alert Kira to what I had just done.  Her eyes went wide for a moment when she saw the empty bottle in front of me, but then she began to snicker.  She did not, as I had expected, instantly chug her bottle in return, instead merely popping off the cap and taking a single sip.  I steeled myself.  So that was her game.  She was playing dirty now.  If she kept up her current pace, her cranberry juice would take over an hour to be finished, while I was now fully laden with the diuretic laced juice.  My bladder would end up being pumped with a larger quantity of pee than hers.  I was slowly realizing that perhaps she wanted more than just to win a fair contest with me.  Perhaps she wanted me to embarrass myself in front of my family, to piss myself in shame on the bus ride for even having the gall to challenge her in this endeavor.  Well, if that was her game, I was more than willing to play it.  Ii knew my abilities, and I reckoned I could still handle myself and my sure to be bulging bladder.
     
    It was 4 pm by the time Kira finished the last of her cranberry juice.  With 17 hours separating her from her last trip to the toilet, she looked the picture of casual calm.  Hands pressed into her lap, true, but I didn’t doubt that my iron bladdered sister still had plenty of room and will to hold on.  On the outside I also appeared ok.  Maybe I was a bit tenser than she, but only slightly.  Well, there was one outward sign of my need to pee, if we’re being honest.  My bladder had started ballooning around 3:30 and only recently stopped growing at such a quick rate.  I was thankful that the cranberry juice wasn’t as bad as a full blown diuretic pill, otherwise I’d probably be nearing my limit.  But as I gently palmed the lump that was even slightly visible under my sweatshirt, I knew the juice had still affected me.
     
    We had another rest stop at 4:30, this one lasting until 6 so that we could all eat a real dinner.  Considering all my family had had by this point in the day was some random snacks on the bus, we were quite happy for the stop.  Though part of me was disappointed that my increasing hunger would no longer be there in the pit of my stomach to distract me from the throb of my bladder.  I stood carefully to follow my mother off the bus.  I peeked to my right and saw Kira stand, wince, and put her legs closer together before gingerly exiting after me.  The diuretic had finally started to hit her as well.  She probably hadn’t realized how full she’d gotten until she stood up, whereas I was used to the increased pressure thanks to finishing my cranberry juice well before her.  Of course, I knew my sister’s bladder was still plenty strong and figured she’d be able to rebound from this setback soon enough.  I, on the other hand, would in all likelihood be faced with having to control a weakening sphincter muscle before she would, since I was facing the pressure for a longer period of time.  That thought sent a chill up my spine, but my heart began to beat faster as I noted that it was a chill of pleasure, not fear.
     
    This rest stop, near the Texas-Oklahoma border, featured a sit down restaurant proclaiming itself to be “The last true Italian food before Oklahoma”.  I tried to stifle a laugh at how absurd that sounded and entered the restaurant.  Thankfully we were allowed to seat ourselves, meaning our parents could immediately scurry off to relieve themselves once more.  That left Kira and I at the table.  I could tell she was smoldering at my insistence to continue holding as long as she did.  I had just turned my glance away from her when she piped up, “You’ll never manage to outhold me, you know.”  My jaw dropped at my sister’s blatant acknowledgement of our contest.  Even though it was clearly happening, it still took getting used to to be talking about it.  Not waiting any longer for my reply, Kira continued, “You couldn’t beat me growing up and you certainly can’t now.  I don’t know who you’re trying to impress.  Mom KNOWS that I’m the bladder queen of this family, and that’s not changing no matter how much you try.  I know you can’t hold as much as me, and I know you can’t hold as long as I can.  Indra, you should just give up now and spare yourself the embarrassment of having to use the bus toilet.”  It took me a moment to recover from her outburst, but I shot back, “Oh yeah?  Well ever since I moved to Texas my bladder has been getting bigger and bigger.  Throw all the tricks at me you want, I can hold it.”  “Please,” Kira responded with a smirk, “You nearly lost it last night.  Another hour of walking and you would have peed yourself.  I would have been fine.  In fact, I’m still fine, while you’re probably sitting over there with a bursting fanny.”  The venom in her words jolted me.  It made me realize just how much Kira valued having the biggest, strongest, longest lasting bladder in the family.  But this knowledge didn’t make me take pity on her for even attempting to unseat her.  It just made me want to push her, and me, further.  I was busy thinking these thoughts and Kira became impatient.  “Well, what do you have to say for yourself??”  I gave her a blank stare as I asked her, “How far are you willing to go?”  Before she could answer, I flagged down a passing waiter.  “Two iced teas please.”
     
    The dinner was fantastic.  I promised never to doubt the true Italian tastes of North Texas ever again as the final bite of pasta entered my mouth.  Kira and I had both finished our iced teas within minutes of our parents returning from the restrooms, so of course that meant we needed refills.  I figured that would be all the drinking we’d need for now, but Kira was intent on following through with her plan to drink me under the table.  As our waiter collected our dirty plates, Kira motioned to him.  “Sir? I’m ever so sorry to bother you, but would you mind topping off my water bottle?”  Not waiting for a reply, Kira took out her water, still one liter full, and chugged down half of it.  I could hear my mother audibly gulping as the waiter then filled it with a liter of water to make it full once more.  All eyes turned to me, everyone knowing what was coming.  Kira was mouthing “Give up Indra” over and over, but she wouldn’t be winning this contest this easily.  I took out my own 1.5 liter bottle, pressed it to my lips and didn’t lower it until the water level was at the same spot it was in Kira’s bottle.  “Mine as well please.”  I gave the waiter my sweetest smile to make up for the fact that he had to go and get another pitcher before he could fulfill my request.  After all, it isn’t often girls ask for an extra two liters of water after a meal with multiple iced teas each.
     
    Our parents rose from the table.  It was nearly 6, so we needed to get back on the bus.  My mother was sweating, caught between wanting to say something about the condition of her daughters’ bladders and being restricted by her culture and upbringing.  Finally she squeaked out, “Are you girls ready to leave?”  Kira and I briefly stared each other down.  She was doing a pristine job of maintaining her composure and hiding her need, built up by 4.5 liters of drinks and nearly 19 hours since her last pee.  Her hands were in her lap and her legs were crossed and jiggling slightly, but her face remained calm as she replied, “Oh mother, I’m as comfortable as ever.  Let’s get back on that bus.”  My mother turned her gaze to me.  “Indra?”  Despite the telltale ache my bladder was now experiencing, and I lieu of the fact that it was packed solid with piss, round and hard in my abdomen, I took no more than a second before answering, “Why, I’ve never felt better.  To the bus!”  I caught Kira’s face nearly snarling in my direction as we made our way back to finish our trip.
     
    The bus pulled back onto the road.  We were right on schedule and were due to arrive in Oklahoma City at 9 pm sharp.  By 7 pm I was regretting the fact that we didn’t take a higher quality bus, as my bladder was expanding to even greater proportions and I desperately wanted to be able to lie back and give it room, rather than having to stay crunched up in the tiny seat.  And I could tell that Kira, for all her bluster and outward confidence, was also feeling the strain.  She was sitting straight up, sometimes moving her legs up and down, sometimes banging her hand on her thighs to keep herself distracted, but never looking fully calm.  Both of us, however, remained in control, leak free and in firm command of our sphincters.
     
    The bus drove on.  As 7 pm turned to 8, my bladder swelled to the size of a small cantaloupe.  Kira was shifting her legs uncomfortably in her seat, the pee pressure clearly getting to her.  But my father made no move to let her up to get to the toilet, and in any case Kira wouldn’t have bothered.  She was holding with determination, as she better have been after her harsh words at dinner.  But I didn’t feel much better.  I was reaching what I felt to be my maximum capacity, my bladder hurting more with every additional millimeter of bulging.  Still, the two of us continued to assault our poor, aching sphincters by drinking from our water bottles.  There was no more chugging, we were both too full for that, but every five minutes or so we would alternate moderate sips.  There was no stopping our insane holding game.  Our bladders would just have to enlarge further, hurt more, and stretch to contain what we demanded of them.  It seemed defeat was not an option for either of us.  My legs had begun to softly scissor inward and out. The desire to release was becoming too strong to ignore without movement, and even then it was eating away at my will.  I saw Kira begin to bob her knees up and down and redoubled my holding efforts, knowing we were both feeling the same strain, determined not to crack first.
     
    Somehow, both of us played Russian roulette with our bladders and came away unscathed, as the bus rolled into its station in Oklahoma City at 8:45 and neither Kira nor I had suffered even the most remote of leakage.  It was clear to anyone who looked upon us that we were two young adult girls in dire need of a bathroom break, wee bursting to escape, but still we suppressed our bodily urges.  On shaky legs I rose to exit the bus, and Kira followed after cupping her expansive bladder with her hands.  Once we were out it was merely a 10 minute walk to our hotel and the freedom our pent up pee was so desperately desiring.  “Are you two ok?” our mother asked us as we began the short walk.  I whispered out “Of course mother,” while Kira could only nod and grimace.  A particularly hard bladder spasm was wracking her beautiful slim figure, and it was taking what appeared to be a great deal of concentration and muscle control to fight it off.  The walk was slow going but Kira and I pushed ourselves to our limits in an effort to appear unaffected by the quantities of piss pushing us to release our bladders all over the sidewalk.  Our hands curled into fists, we both forced our backs straight, wincing mightily as the urge to let loose our torrents doubled in intensity.  We both sported large pudges growing over the waistbands of our sweatpants.  Had we been wearing Kira’s tiny shorts from the previous day, we might have been done in, even with our massive resolve and bladders.  But thankfully our bladders were able to stretch as much as necessary to contain our immense floods, if only just.
     
    Finally the hotel was in sight.  Kira gasped as she held it in in the face of yet another bladder spasm.  I was taking ever smaller steps as we entered the hotel lobby, shaking legs pressed together as discreetly as possible.  We all approached the counter and my mother began the process of checking in for the night.  I looked to my right and saw Kira fighting with everything she had to remain still in front of the hotel employee at the desk, and with a groan I followed her example.  But the check in began to drag on, and after two minutes I heard Kira take a sharp intake of breath and begin to fidget, clearly willing herself not to grasp her crotch for everything she was worth.  For a moment I felt superior.  Then I noticed that I had been unconsciously wiggling my legs for the past minute.  Both of us were gagging for a toilet, two desperate young women holding back 22 hours of pee in our overstretched piss containers.  It had to come out soon, one way or another.  We were both pee dancing on the spot.  For the first time I noticed Kira give me a worried look.  The iron bladder of the family herself was close to breaking.
     
    Then the clerk handed my mother two hotel room keys and we were off, all thoughts of wetting on the floor of the lobby forgotten for the both of us as we walked quickly to the elevator.  The movement gave me back some semblance of control, however slight, and I felt that Kira got the same effect from it.  In any case her constant hitching of breath as she fought through spasm after spasm had stopped.  The elevator took us to the top floor, and we walked desperately down the entire hall before reaching our room door at the very end of it.  Mother inserted her key card while I kept myself from spurting at the thought of being so near a bathroom at last.  But as she turned the handle, a new thought struck me with horror.  Who would go first?  Surely it would have to be Kira, as in my intensely prideful state I felt I would rather wet than pee before her.  But that meant I would have to hold on for at least 5 long, painful bladder busting minutes before getting the opportunity to gain my relief.  I didn’t know if I could make it that long, not with the toilet so close, not while listening to Kira piss out Niagara Falls.  With bated breath I entered.
     
    The room was huge.  For a split second all thoughts of pee pain left my head as I marveled at the size of our hotel room.  “Sorry it took so long,” my mother was saying beside me, though it was difficult to concentrate on her voice, “I had us upgraded to the suite.”  Momentarily I wondered why my frugal, penny pinching mother would voluntarily pay more money for an albeit bigger room, but then all that went to the wayside as I saw another perk of the room size – it had two bathrooms.
     
    Instantly Kira hobbled into the bathroom nearest the hotel door, while I raced to the one on the far side of the room.  I heard her door shut with a thud and mine followed seconds later.  My sweatpants were somehow tight to my body, such was the distension of my bulging bladder.  I yanked them down frantically, crossed my legs for one second to regain full control and admire the cannonball in my abdomen, and then rushed to the toilet.  My gusher began as soon as I was seated.  22 hours of piss streamed out of me with crazy force.  That damn cranberry juice had nearly done me in, heck it had nearly done in Kira, the mastermind herself, yet we both survived.  I could hear Kira’s massive gush faintly through the door, but by bearing down even harder on my own stream I managed to drown it out.  I had always been good at peeing with force once I’d become a competent holder, but my current flood outstripped even the ones I had made in the past few days.  I was well and truly bursting.  I wiped matted hair out of my face as my pee continued into its second minute unabated.
     
    My mind fought through wave after wave of pee pleasure to think about Kira and the ridiculous levels this challenge had now reached.  22 hours without a single pee break was crazy, even for a well-trained Indian girl such as her.  Or such as me.  I wasn’t sure if we could push the limits any further to really find a winner in this contest of bladder capacity.  Even with a milk diuretic we both lasted a full day.  With despair I noted that this trip would be over soon.  We had another bus ride to Albaquerque tomorrow, and the next morning we’d be heading to the Albaquerque airport, where my mother, father, and Kira would fly back to India and I would fly back to Houston.  I didn’t think there was enough time left to resolve things, one way or another.  Even as my pee began to slow down in its fourth minute, I sat and pondered the fact that Kira and I were seemingly too good at holding it to decide upon a winner.  My trickle finally ground to a halt seconds before the fifth minute began, and when it did I suddenly got one last, risky plan.  It was ridiculous, so much in fact that I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it, let alone Kira.  But dammit, at the risk of total embarrassment, of biting off way more than I could chew, and of pushing my bladder into very uncharted waters, I promised myself I would see it through to the end, for better or worse.  And besides, my plan was crazy enough that it just might work, and that was enough for me.
     
    With a jolt I heard my father banging on the bathroom door, and I surmised that I’d been inside for an additional five minutes, going through my desperate plan over and over.  Haphazardly, I apologized, rinsed my hands, and exited.  My father gruffly entered, and I found myself alone in what appeared to be a combination bedroom and living room with one gigantic bed.  I saw the other bathroom door was still shut, and I guessed that my mom was inside it, but then where was Kira?  I turned all the way around and noted a door I hadn’t seen before in my rush for a toilet, hidden away just to the right of the bathroom that I had used.  I turned the handle, opened it, went inside, and came face to face with two more beds, these ones smaller but still impressive.  Kira was busy making hers, her back to me.  Sensing my presence, she said to me, without looking over her shoulder, “You know this is hopeless, right?  Try it again tomorrow for all I care.  I’m used to this.  I’ll last longer on my shortest hold than you ever could on your longest.  Face it sis, I’ve got the iron bladder, and you…well you just don’t, ok?  It doesn’t make you less of a woman, well, TOO much less of a woman, it just makes you like everyone else.”
     
    My eyes blazed like fire for a moment at her words, but then I lay into the bed opposite Kira’s and became unspeakably tired.  All the holding of the past day had worn me out.  All I mustered in reply was, “You’ll have to try harder than this,” before my heavy eye lids shut themselves.  And as I began drifting off to sleep, I made one final revelation.  Our mother said she had purposely upgraded us to the suite.  Now I knew why.  She knew how close Kira and I’s bladders were to their breaking points when we reached the hotel, and she didn’t want one of us to have to disgrace ourselves waiting for the toilet in the room.  So she’d gotten us the largest room, the only one in the hotel with multiple bathrooms, to save us from ourselves.  The last words on my lips before the sandman took his nightly hold of me were “I don’t want to be saved.”
     
    Day 4

     
    I awoke to the sound of Kira getting dressed.  In preparation for the bus ride to come, she had once again opted for sweatpants and a large t-shirt.  Instinctively my hands reached for my bladder, and I was pleased to discover a small hardness, but nothing more.  I was relieved that the cranberry juice from the day before hadn’t continued to work on my kidneys through the night.  I’d need every bit of bladder capacity I could muster for what lay ahead.  I clenched my sphincter a few times, testing it, and was delighted by the results.  I was able to clamp down as hard as ever, my bladder showing basically no ill effects from the previous day’s bursting hold.  This was good.  This gave me a chance.
     
    Kira noticed that I was awake, and instantly her trash talk from the last night continued.  “Aww, finally awake there Indra?  Did that long hold tire you out?  I still haven’t taken a pee this morning, and isn’t that your big bad plan?  Get Kira to skip her morning pee, because obviously that worked out so well for you yesterday.”  All I had time for was, “Don’t’ go before we leave,” before she cut me off and continued, “Of course I won’t go before we leave.  If you wanna lose the hard way, so be it.  But do you actually think skipping my morning pee is anything new or difficult for me?  Back when I was a senior in high school, I didn’t take a morning pee for 8 months, from day one until graduation.  I got my diploma with a darn fuller bladder than you had at yours.  I’ve done this more than you know, and when I go back to India I guarantee you, Indra, that I’ll still be the owner of the biggest, strongest, and best bladder in this family.”  I began getting dressed as she finished her rant.  My normally composed sister was anything but.  I knew I was in for a serious fight now that I was encroaching on her territory, staking my name to her big bladdered crown, but I had never been more prepared, both mentally and physically, for anything in my entire life.  That much I knew.  “We’ll find out if you’re right,” was all I said as I readied myself to leave the room.  Kira could only huff and follow.
     
    The clock on the far wall of the main room read 7:30.  I was surprised it was so early, but then again I had crashed to sleep as soon as we had gotten in and my pressing pee had gotten out, so I was certainly well rested.  Our parents were already getting their things in order, and by 7:45 we were ready to leave the hotel.  Our bus didn’t depart until noon, so we had some time to relax and see the sights of Oklahoma City.  Both of them popped into the separate bathroom stalls for one final pee, and when they exited my mother wore that look of agitation mixed with pride that I was getting to know so well.  She gave a half gesture to Kira and I in the direction of the open bathroom doors, and without even a glance at each other we both shook our heads.  The battle was well and truly on.  Mother almost gave a grimace, sighed to herself after a brief pause, then spoke, “Forgive me, girls.  I should remember how grown up you both are.”  She emphasized the word ‘both’, which brought a wry smile to my lips.  ‘If you only knew how grown up we were going to prove ourselves to be before this trip ends,’ I thought to myself.  Then we were out the door, checked out of the hotel, and on our way to the center of the city, and already nearly 11 hours separated Kira and I from our last lavatory visits.
     
    We found out one thing in the four hours we had to kill – Oklahoma City is a boring place.  Maybe it was just that my focus was on other, more exciting things, but the time seemed to drag.  Kira and I each emptied our water bottles and refilled them, along with consuming a cup of coffee and a glass of juice each at breakfast.  The additional liquids bothered us not.  By this point in the journey, we both knew the other possessed some serious holding power.  Finally the time came to board the bus.  We had reached the station a bit early to give our parents a chance to pee one last time before the ride.  Kira and I simply waited outside the restrooms for them.  The station was packed and the flow of women in and out of the ladies’ room was constant.  As the two of us stood outside it, regarding ourselves as above needing the relief it offered, we overheard one skinny blonde, probably in her mid 30s, say to a man I presumed was her husband, “Look at those girls.  Over there.  Girls these days think they all have bladders of steel.  I guarantee you they’ll regret just standing there in two hours time.”  The man just nodded.  Kira gave her sassy smirk, while I chuckled to myself.  We might end up regretting it, but it would definitely take longer than two hours.  This became funnier to me when I considered that it had already been nearly 15 hours since we’d last gotten relief.
     
    Despite the crush of people, the four of us found ourselves among the first ones on our bus.  Kira gave me a look, then announced to my parents, “Indra and I are gonna take the seats in the back.”  They nodded dumbly, as did I, surprised my sister wanted to sit with me but not really feeling unhappy about it.  When we reached the seats I quickly realized the psychological ploy Kira was going for.  These seats were positioned right next to the bus’s onboard lavatory, meaning that not only would we both constantly be afforded a reminder of our plight as well as an easy way to end our bladder pain, but we’d have to listen to the continuous trickle of passengers emptying their bladders while ours stayed full.  Without missing a beat, Kira took the window seat, mentioning with an airy casualness, “I’ll sit here, so you don’t have to climb over me to pee.  I, of course, will not be needing to do that on this bus.  I can hold it.  In fact, I can hold it even though it’s been over half a day since I wasn’t holding it.  Grown women can do that, you know.”  “I know how long it’s been, sister.  And it’ll be much longer before I’ll have to do such an unwomanly thing as relieve myself, so I hope you’re in it for the long haul.”  I sat down next to her after finishing my retort, legs intentionally open to show the ease of my current sublime bladder control.  Inwardly I was proud of my response.  I’d always wanted to be able to say things like that, just as Kira did, to offhandedly brag about my holding capacity, but until recently my bladder had never been big enough to actually allow me to do so.  While I clearly needed practice, I thought I was getting better.
     
    The bus left at 12:10, maneuvering through the city streets and quickly joining up with the highway.  The late start was attributed to the fact that this bus was jam packed with people, and many of them had decided to be stragglers.  They clearly hadn’t expected such a crowded bus station to walk through, or perhaps they didn’t think the lines for the restrooms would be quiiite as long as they were.  I smiled to myself at the knowledge that that was never a problem for me anymore.  Within the first half hour of the ride a woman of perhaps 45 cursed, “Oh, blast it!” and rose from her seat.  She hobbled down the aisle, keeping one hand on her thigh, mere inches from her crotch.  With some manner of franticness she opened the bus bathroom stall and entered.  Kira and I, being situated so close to the bathroom, could easily hear the woman’s stream, which started out impressively before dying down into a normal 30 second pee.  “Not even enough to put a dent into my bladder.” I heard myself say as she returned to her seat.  I was a bit surprised to be talking about someone else’s bladder in public like that, especially so brazenly, but I found that I quite liked hearing the words come off my tongue.  Kira gave a short laugh and responded, “She could pee ten times before I’d have to go once.”
     
    By 1 pm I noticed that neither Kira nor I had consumed more than some token sips from our 1.5 liter water bottles.  Feeling that my bladder was still quite in control, I decided to make up a game to increase our intake and, over the long term, decrease that very control we both coveted so highly.  “Hey sis, how about a drinking game,” I suggested.  Kira snapped to a half-hearted attention, moving her eyes from the window to me.  “What do you have in mind?” she asked lazily.  She asked it in the way one does when regarding a child’s poorly thought out request and not having the patience to give it some fake enthusiasm.  Undeterred, I continued, “I’ll bet you that my side of the bus (I gestured to all the seats on the right half of the aisle) has better bladder control than your side (I motioned to everyone left of the aisle).  We’ll keep track.  Every time someone from my half goes to the bathroom, I’ll take a big drink of water, and every time someone from your half goes, you drink.”  Kira’s eyes lit up at the idea, though she did her best to put on a bored face as she replied, “Well, ok, it’ll get me through this bus ride at least.  But when you forfeit and pee, you still count for your side, so I expect you to drink when you come back.”  I just smiled, “Deal.”
     
    By 3 pm it was clear that, despite her best efforts, my sister couldn’t keep from showing her excitement at my game.  Her competitive nature had taken over, combined with her obsession to have a larger bladder than all those around her.  Another person, this time a teenage girl who couldn’t possibly have been older than me, left her seat and went towards the lavatory.  Kira fist pumped.  I sighed.  The girl was on my side.  I would have to drink.  I swigged from my water bottle, noting how much lighter it was now than when we’d begun this game.  I reckoned I had already consumed a liter of it, while Kira had probably had no more than a third of that.  Setting down my bottle, I turned to her as she began her trash talk, “Damn, Indra, this this was a better idea than I gave you credit for.  You’re gonna lose both your pee and the game before the first rest stop, and I didn’t even have to do a thing to goad you on!”  We both knew she was exaggerating.  After the last few days together Kira had to know I wouldn’t break so easily.  Still, there was no doubt as I felt the fullness of my abdomen that I was in worse shape than her.  She was still as jovial as ever, even with 18 hours of pee sitting in her gigantic bladder.  My spur of the moment idea was backfiring in my face.
     
    Suddenly, in the next ten minutes my luck changed.  A parade of people began to filter in and out of the onboard toilet, and all of them were from Kira’s side!  My sister began grumbling about how stupid of a game this really was as she was forced to chug her drink until it was level with mine.  Still, she did no more than cross her legs until we pulled into our rest stop at 4 pm.  With 19 hours of pee in our bladders, Kira and I ignored the women’s toilets and headed straight for the water fountains.  As soon as we had refilled our giant water bottles, Kira noticed something.  Nearly everyone on our bus had entered the restrooms.  “How do you wanna factor that into our game?” I asked.  Kira shrugged and turned her newly full bottle to her lips, her throat working overtime to swallow as much as possible.  I followed her lead, the two of us chugging and keeping eye contact, determined not to quit before the other.  45 seconds later, we both succeeded.  Our stomachs were heavy and waterlogged, but the 1.5 liter bottles were empty again.  We couldn’t have that, obviously, so we filled them up one more time, grabbed some food to eat on the bus, and returned to our seats, both knowing our bladders would soon be feeling the effects of that rash decision.
     
    Time seemed to pass more slowly after the rest stop.  Kira was still giving me the occasional comment about her bladder’s infinite strength relative to mine, but for the most part we sat in near silence, both waiting for our bladders to reach their bursting points.  The two of us sat next to the bathroom, both needing it badly but neither giving in.  Our abdomens were bulged out far past anything that could be considered normal, yet there we sat, pretending we hadn’t a care in the world.  And besides our crossed legs and sometimes strained facial expressions, one could have still looked at us and not known we were bursting of the pot.  Thankfully our game had slowed down as well, with so many people having relieved themselves at the stop.
     
    Over the final couple of hours of the ride, Kira and I did our best to remain unmoving, unchanging against the ever increasing tides lapping against our bladder walls.  Our piss tanks continued to swell, to the point that we now both looked positively massive in that region.  Kira squirmed in her seat every now and then, while I was busy doing Kegals to remain in firm control of the river I was containing.  We’d both ended up consuming an additional liter of water each in the course of playing our bus bathroom game, and I could tell from the look in Kira’s eyes on her last few drinks that she didn’t know where she was going to be able to put this excess liquid.  With no diuretic hampering me this time, I knew I’d be good to last to our hotel, even if it was a struggle.  And at 9 pm, exactly 24 long, arduous hours since either of us had felt any relief, the bus pulled into the Albaquerque bus station.  Kira and I took one last, longing look at the bus toilet before exiting gingerly to the sidewalk.
     
    We met up with our parents and decided to hail a cab to our hotel.  I could see mother giving note to our heavily swollen abdomens and our feeble attempts to stand straight while walking, but she said nothing as we entered the cab.  15 minutes later we were in the hotel.  Thankfully, despite our bursting conditions, Kira and I both showed much more self-control in the lobby this time around.  We looked around with nonchalance, only giving away the severity of our bladder agony by placing our hands protectively under our giant, fragile bulges and perhaps clicking our heels and moving our feet a bit much for girls who only had to wait at check-in for a minute or two.  Realizing we had much better control of ourselves on this night, our mother opted for the usual small, one bathroom hotel room.
     
    On legs that were just beginning to get shaky, Kira and I walked into our room.  Both of us sat defiantly on our bed, neither making a move for the toilet.  Our parents both paused briefly to give us a chance to change our minds, but when we continued to sit, my mother darted in to relieve herself.  Father followed, but Kira and I did not.  After unpacking a little, our father ordered the family some food to be delivered, then sat and turned on the TV to watch with mother.  Kira and I made as if we were also paying attention to the screen, but nothing could have been further from the truth.  Our bladders were like bowling balls in our stomachs, and keeping them full and intact was all either of us cared about at the moment.  The food arrived and we all ate, then my parents retired to bed, done in from the constant traveling, after one final look from my mother to her badly bursting, nearly exploding daughters.
     
    I saw the clock once the snores began to rise from my parent’s bed, and it said 10 pm.  25 hours had now passed since Kira or I had even seen the inside of a bathroom, let alone use a toilet.  It was like we were trying to live without admitting that a need to pee is a need that everyone, even well-trained girls with enormous bladders, must give in to eventually.
     
    Kira also noticed that our parents were asleep, so she was able to speak about our conditions freely, “Ok, admit it, Indra, you’ve failed.  Once again, you only ended up holding as long as I have.  You can’t last any longer, I mean really, look at that melon you’ve got in your gut!  I know you have to let it out.  It’s been over a day now.  Why don’t you just admit you can’t defeat me, take a piss, let me take my piss, and we can go to sleep?  I can go on being the iron bladder of this family, and you can go on being second best.”  At this I smiled.  “What’s so funny?!” Kira asked, louder than she intended due to her state of bladder distress.  “This waiting game isn’t over yet,” I said to her, my eyes twinkling.  “What are you talking about?” Kira questioned, “It’s been (she swiveled to look at the clock)….25 hours since we’ve peed!  What do you mean it’s not over?  We’re here, we’re in our hotel room.  Of course it’s over.  It’s just a question of who goes first.  And that’s you.  A tie always goes to the champion, and I most certainly am the bladder champion around here.”  My grin grew wider, “Well, Kira, I’m not going.  I don’t care how big the lump in my abdomen gets, I’m not gonna pee tonight.”  Now Kira’s eyes got wide as she understood what I was saying.  “You mean…” she started, before I cut her off, “That’s right.  If you want to give in and pee now, surrendering your title, that’s fine.  Be my guest.  But not a drop is coming out of me until tomorrow.”  Kira’s voice cracked as she responded, “You’ll never make it!  You’ll wet yourself in your sleep and disgrace the entire family!  What will mom and dad say after that??”  “I can do it,” I told her, “and I’m going to.  I’ve slept full before and I can do it again.  So go, pee if you must, but that makes me the winner.”  Kira was silent for a few seconds, clearly raging on the inside.  She was now fighting both her incessant urge to pee and the idea of coping with a new challenge.  My sister’s sights had been set on relief once we entered the hotel room, but from last night onward I knew the only way to win this would be to forgo my evening pee on this night, even if I was already 25 hours full.  Finally Kira broke her silence.  “Alright,” she almost spat the words at me, “I can go to bed without a pee too.  It’s no problem for me, really.  You’ll see.  You’ll end up with a nice big wet patch under you while my side of this bed will be bone dry!”  I smiled and nodded with fake good-naturedness, then got under the covers and prepared myself for sleep, bursting bladder and all.  Kira grumbled, grumbled some more, hemmed, hawed, and finally got into bed with me.  Her legs were moving restlessly as she fought with her sphincter to remain in control of the mass of water she was holding.  My own need was something more than a pleasurable ache, but I hadn’t been lying when I said I’d managed to sleep full before.  I had done that many times in Houston.  I just hadn’t been this full.  Or full for this long.  But I was prepared to risk it all, and this was certainly a heck of a risk to take.  Slowly, it took perhaps a half an hour, my mind drifted off to sleep, even as my pee raged inside my bladder.  My last conscious thought was that I could still hear rustling in the sheets beside me.  Kira was still having problems.
     
     
    Day 5

     
    I awoke with a jolt at 7 am the next morning.  Immediately I had to reach down and clutch my crotch for all I was worth.  My bladder was like a boulder in my abdomen, round, hard, and aching.  I knew at once that I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.  I also knew that making it through the night dry had been a close thing.  My piss holder was nearly ripping apart at the seams, and it was taking me some time to get used to this massive increase in pressure. It was easily the worst I’d had to go on this entire trip, which made sense, as I hadn’t been to a toilet for 34 hours now.  I turned over, hands still on my vagina, and saw that Kira was awake as well.  And just like the previous night, her legs were still restless, moving up and down, back and forth, with pretty good speed.  It was clear she was desperate to relieve herself, just like I was.  “Congrats,” I croaked in a whisper.  Our parents were also waking, and I didn’t want them to catch wind of our conversation.  Kira rolled over, face grimacing in exhaustion and agony, and replied sleepily, “For what, you sadist?”  I managed a small grin.  “I didn’t think you’d last the night, Kira.”  For a moment all signs of sleepiness left her visage, replaced by pure rage.  “Oh, you!  I’ll never be outheld by you!  Now go and take a piss!  I’m positively bursting!  I barely got any sleep thanks to this awful balloon in my gut.  Do you know you long it’s been since either of us peed??  Give this up!”  I shushed her, trying to make sure our parents didn’t hear anything, before telling her, “I’m not giving up yet.”  With that, I sat up (slowly, mind you.  My bladder was nearly the size of a watermelon!) and began getting my stuff together for the trip to the airport.  Kira could only glare from the bed.
     
    The four of us prepared our things to leave.  Kira and I could hardly keep still as we packed, pee dancing with increasing franticness as the urge to pee threatened to overwhelm us.  Our bladders were rock-solid, adding untold inches to our waistlines.  Once, around 7:45, Kira had whispered desperately to me, “No bladder, however big, is meant to contain this much piss!  Go and let it out!”  At the thought of release, my bladder cramped urgently, and I had to stop and nearly drop to my knees to fight the spasm down, but still I refused to quit.  Kira moaned at me and shoved a hand in her crotch briefly.
     
    Our parents had noticed our desperation, but it wasn’t until 8 am, when we were ready to leave, that my mother truly realized how badly we had to go.  Both mother and father had just returned from the bathroom, and as our mother looked us up and down she realized that, not only were we pee dancing on the spot, but our tight t-shirts and sweatpants were doing nothing to hide the insane bulges we were sporting.  Our 35 hours worth of pee had swelled our abdomens out to ridiculous degrees.  “Girls!  What are you doing??  You’re both clearly masters of controlling yourselves, but for goodness sake you can’t expect to go out like that!  Not all the way to the airport!”  She turned to me, “Indra, dear Indra, please, I have kept my mouth shut for all this time, but please, go and make yourself comfortable again.” She pointed towards the open bathroom door, but I held my ground and my urine.  After ten seconds our mother went to Kira, “Kira!  How about you?  You’ve always been strong, but show some sense!”  But my sister’s face was a mask of determination, even moreso than mine.  “If Indra doesn’t need it, then I am certainly comfortable enough to get to the airport.” She replied icily.  My mother looked to our father in a last ditch effort, but he could only shrug and say, “If they say they’re fine, then let’s go.  What are we waiting for?”  And so, with half our number in an extreme state of desperation, we all made our way out of the hotel and hailed a cab.  It was only I that noticed Kira’s last, longing glance at our hotel room’s toilet before the door swung shut.
     
    The ride to the airport was quiet.  Kira and I were much too focused on keeping our pee from busting out of ourselves to make small talk, and I think my mother way in a state of shock over the whole thing.  By 8:30 we were at the airport.  Thank goodness there was no line to check in for our flight, because if Kira and I had had to stand still for a prolonged period of time, that might have been the end of things.  As it was, we were able to move around the desk area, squirming, fidgeting, and trying our hardest to pass off our intense desperation as excitement for our flights to the airport employees surrounding us.  After checking our luggage and beginning the walk to our gate, I saw Kira’s eyes looking everywhere for a restroom sign.  She even had to hold herself while walking now.  I knew she was close.  Heck, I was close myself, as a quick series of bladder spasms reminded me.  I stopped for a moment, legs turned inward, hands on my thighs, squeezing with everything I had.  I had shut my eyes to concentrate better, and when I opened them, I saw both my parents were staring at me.  Kira was not.  She was too close to having her own urinary disaster, and was concentrating on nothing but remaining dry a little longer.  I waved my hands to my parents as if to say, “Ah well, it happens,” and we continued on.  Going through airport security may have been the hardest thing we’d had to do yet, but with unmatched resolve and willpower, Kira and I both managed to put our hands to our sides and walk normally past the airport security guards. 
     
    Our desperation was reaching new and unforeseen levels, levels I didn’t even know could be reached by a girl’s bladder.  When we got to my family’s gate, my bladder was in a constant state of spasm.  I clenched with everything I had, using nearly all the sphincter strength I had left, and managed somehow to calm my pee urgency down to the point where I could function, if not well.  Kira, on the other hand, was at the end of her rope.  Pacing, nearly marching on the spot, she enthusiastically waved her arms in the direction of a women’s restroom sign.  “Indra!  Look!  A bathroom!  Go there!  Please, please, go there!”  My sister’s control was mighty, prodigious even, but it seemed her ponderous load of pee was finally getting to her.  I gave my phone a quick check and saw that it was now nearly 10 am.  It had been nearly 37 hours since either of us had let a single drop out of our stretched, tortured bladders.  Smiling wide, I shook my head at my poor, desperate sister, relishing the fact that I was still in control while she was finally losing hers.  It was the first time I had ever had the upper hand in this matter, and I was savoring it.  “Kira, you should go,” I told her with an air of superiority, “Your belly looks ridiculous.  You’re gonna pee yourself.”  Kira’s eyes were fearful and she nearly shouted back at me, in total denial, “No, no, no, I’m the bladder queen of the family!  I never have to go before you!  I can wait as long as you can!  If you haven’t gone yet, I won’t!”  She said these words even as her bladder bulged ominously, as her sphincter tired itself out, as she slowly but surely came to grips with the fact that her enormous bladder was in a fight it couldn’t win.
     
    “Now boarding, Gate 72A!”  The announcement came over the loudspeaker of the gate, our gate.  As the clock struck 10 am, it was time for my mother, father, and Kira to go back to India.  My flight left at 10:30 am, giving me just enough time to see them off and rush to my own gate.  My parents were shooting looks of horror back and forth as they regarded their pee dancing daughters.  The time when we were in firm control of ourselves seemed a distant memory.  Now we could be mistaken for school girls with teacup-sized bladders…unless someone actually looked at our amazing bladder protrusions.  Neither of us would have fit in anything but the stretchy sweatpants we were wearing.  I hugged my mother goodbye gingerly, then the same with my father, being careful not to bump my round bulge against them.  One wrong move and it could be all over.  Kira was last, and I could tell it was taking every last ounce of energy and willpower she had to stay in place and hug me.  I pulled her close, then whispered in her ear, “I’m not going to pee.  I’m going to board my plane to Houston without going.  The only way to outlast me is to get onto that plane, sit in the seat, strap that seatbelt over your bladder, and keep holding all the way back to India.” 
     
    With a desperate shout, Kira pushed me away.  One hand was clutching her crotch in a death grip, the other was holding her face.  I saw that she was near tears, hair flying all over her face, panic in her eyes.  Her legs were scissoring back and forth at a rapid rate even as she stood, but it was no good.  Her final sphincter clenches were not enough.  After all this, I had come to learn what it took to defeat Kira’s monstrous bladder:  38 hours, half a lake of drinks, and the prospect of holding on for hours and hours to come.  It was too much for her, and Kira’s iron bladder began to rebel before my very eyes.  Her strong, perfectly-trained dam of a sphincter started cracking, as I saw first one rivulet of wetness snake down her sweatpants, then another, then another, before she cut it off, breathing deeply.  “I can hold it….I won’t lose…I can hold it…I…I…It’s coming out!”  Kira’s bladder suddenly exploded, gushing piss everywhere.  The floor was drenched and her sweatpants were waterlogged in seconds.  With a shout of despair, Kira began half-running half-hobbling to the women’s restroom she had so astutely pointed out to me minutes before.  The battle was over.  I had won.  I grinned, reveling in my victory, my bladder pain momentarily forgotten.  My mother looked me in the face, saying, “Ok, Indra.  You did it.  You can go now.”  But I looked back with a sparkle in my eyes and replied, “Oh mother, I don’t have to go.  I’m a grown woman after all.  I can hold it.”  With that, I turned on my heel and headed for my gate.  As I walked away, I knew that, despite everything she had said, my mother had never been prouder of me.
     
     
    Epilogue

    I strode onto my plane and took my seat next to an attractive guy who seemed about my age.  For the first half hour of the two hour flight we made very little conversation.  The adrenaline had worn off from my victory over my former bladder queen of a sister, and the intensity of my urge to pee seemed to be tripling.  I was hell bent on lasting the flight, however, and ended up squirming in my seat to stay in command of my load of piss.  The boy, Ryan was his name, glanced over at me as I wriggled.  “Do you have to go too?  I can get up if you’d like,” he offered.  I smiled wanly, “No thank you.  I’m actually quite capable of waiting, thank you very mu….did you say you had to go too?  Why not go?  You have the outside seat.  The lavatory is open.  I can see the sign.”  He gave me a slight laugh and his cheeks reddened, but after a half minute of silence he lifted his shirt, showing me what was obviously a stretched and aching bladder, and replied, “What the hell, I’m never gonna see you again after this, so if you must know I’m testing myself.  I haven’t gone in a very long time.  It’s actually been 24 hours.  I don’t want to go until I can’t wait anymore.”  My jaw nearly dropped off of my face, and I had to jam both fists into my crotch to stave off my hardest bladder spasm yet.  Finally I managed to tell him, “I haven’t gone in almost 40.”  It was his turn to stare at me in amazement, and his gaze instantly turned downwards to my incredible bulging bladder.  “That’s amazing…” he breathed. 
     
    We spent the remainder of the flight aiding each other in coping with our piss struggles.  I had originally planned on peeing at the airport bathroom in Houston, but found resolve I didn’t know was possible to have now that I had a partner in pee holding.  As we got our luggage I could tell Ryan was on the verge of losing control, even moreso than I was.  But I wanted to prevent him from darting off to the airport bathrooms, as I saw his eyes flick that way more than once.  So I invited him to my place.  He was unsure, clearly going out of his mind with desperation, but then I took his hand, placed it ever so gently on my rock-hard bladder, and told him, “You can watch me pee.”  Without another word we collected our bags, hailed a taxi, and desperately shuffled into my apartment at 1 pm.  I was sure we were going to explode the minute we were in the door, but instead I found myself overcome with horniness at the thought of our predicament and instantly wrapped him up in my arms and started forcefully making out with him, even as our aching bladders tried to forcefully spew out our loads of pent up pee. 
     
    We resisted the call of nature for another hour, hands roaming each others’ bodies but staying mostly on the other’s massive bladder.  We moaned, crossed our legs, danced while holding each other, squatted down low, and did everything we could think of to last.  I even tortured myself further by downing a glass of water while he looked on in amazement.  But finally we were well and truly at our limits.  The pee had to come out, and after 41 hours of pristine control my sphincter finally couldn’t clench hard enough to keep the oncoming spurts back.  In total desperation I rushed to the bathroom and grabbed the measuring jug I used for just such occasions, convinced that this had to be some sort of holding record for myself.  When I returned to the living room, Ryan had his hand clenched over his bare penis.  “If I let go it’ll all come out!” he cried desperately, so I did what any good, true lady would in this situation.  I let him go first.  With the last of my power I clutched myself and held on as he pissed long and loud into the giant jug.  After 3 minutes his pee ended with 2200 ml in the jug.  I was very impressed, because that was not a total I was used to beating often.  But today I felt as if an entire lake was residing in my enormous, hurting bladder, and after dumping his load out in the toilet, I squatted over the bowl, ripped down my sweatpants, and finally let loose.  The pleasure of this piss was out of this world, and I nearly lost myself in it as the pee poured out of me.  I was like a tap turned on full, and it felt as though I would never stop.  Ryan’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he gaped at my naked pussy unleashing a river into the filling jug.  This pee took over 5 minutes of forceful peeing to finish, but when it did I proudly lifted the jug and showed him that 2700 ml was residing in it.  It was a total I was sure my sister Kira, even with her amazing bladder capacity, had never bested, and I knew that I was now the true Bladder Queen in the family.  And from the look I detected in Ryan’s eyes as I breathed in relief, this Bladder Queen wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.
  11. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from OmoCommando in Physical Discipline   
    I think you're looking at this the wrong way, mate.
    Everyone believes that to strike a child to abuse it. My parents, and the parents of a great deal of my friends, were physically disciplined, and never suffered whatever psychological damage people think discipline imparts. 
    But, there is a line. When it stops being out of love and more out of anger, there's an issue.
  12. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to ArcticVortex in Physical Discipline   
    I feel that it's necessary in child development. But there's a line. I want to know what you guys feel the line is and what actions should be taken if it's crossed
  13. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from blablaland in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    I'm confused; what's your issue here?
    From what I hear, I've drawn two conclusions;
    1. You're upset that normal users don't have a physical way of expressing their disagreement with an opinion (which, as stated before, isn't completely true)
    2. You're upset that people, staff or otherwise, disagree with you.
    Part of debate is opening yourself up to criticism, mate, there's no way around that.
  14. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to MissPeePanties in Hello! Desperation/Wetting lover and video maker   
    Hello! I'm MissPeePanties. You can call me Kat if you'd like though.
    I've been lurking on this site for a long time but finally made an account thanks to a suggestion from a friend.
    I've been into omorashi for a looooong time haha. I also make my own desperation and peeing/wetting videos on xTube and pornhub. Ask me if you'd like links! I'll post some soon though probably haha
    I used to be super embarrassed by this fetish, but I've come to love and embrace it hehe :)
  15. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from KozmoFox in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    I'm confused; what's your issue here?
    From what I hear, I've drawn two conclusions;
    1. You're upset that normal users don't have a physical way of expressing their disagreement with an opinion (which, as stated before, isn't completely true)
    2. You're upset that people, staff or otherwise, disagree with you.
    Part of debate is opening yourself up to criticism, mate, there's no way around that.
  16. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from Kei in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    I think it has to be in certain sections, though...
    Fanfiction, wetting experiences, artwork, video upload, stuff like that.
  17. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to GadgetCereal in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    Okay, you can stop now, I can see what you're doing, you're going for a new downvote record.
     
    I mean...you can't be annoyed just because a bunch of people downvoted you on the internet...right?...Guys?
  18. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from MsFortune-Take in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    I'm confused; what's your issue here?
    From what I hear, I've drawn two conclusions;
    1. You're upset that normal users don't have a physical way of expressing their disagreement with an opinion (which, as stated before, isn't completely true)
    2. You're upset that people, staff or otherwise, disagree with you.
    Part of debate is opening yourself up to criticism, mate, there's no way around that.
  19. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to KozmoFox in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    Yeah, there's many, many a user who can downvote, and a single staff member. Its just limited to contributory and VIP as they have proven themselves to be respected and trusted among the community at large. You getting downvoted isn't staff stifling your free speech or whatever you're hinting at, its other members not liking what you're saying, disagreeing very strongly, or just thinking its stupid. I'm usually towards the stupid thing, like currently. This post for example is operating entirely on crazy assumptions in relation to another comment on another post that had little to no bearing on the matter at the hand but you stated as fact.
     
    So I'm likely to downvote this myself for example, before I drown in a sea of logical fallacy. My lungs are already filling. So this is how it ends.
  20. Upvote
    Foxlover got a reaction from luigifantard in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    I'm confused; what's your issue here?
    From what I hear, I've drawn two conclusions;
    1. You're upset that normal users don't have a physical way of expressing their disagreement with an opinion (which, as stated before, isn't completely true)
    2. You're upset that people, staff or otherwise, disagree with you.
    Part of debate is opening yourself up to criticism, mate, there's no way around that.
  21. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to SashaButters in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    Contributory members can down vote too, like I just did.  
     
    Kirito does a great job here, and many people-like myself- have a lot of respect for him for being able to run this site and keep it from looking like a cesspool like many other adult sites do. Going after our mod, and whining about get down voted, are  sure ways to earn yourself a lot more down votes than your previous comments did. 
  22. Downvote
    Foxlover reacted to wet_outdoors in The downvoting policy at Omorashi.org is negative to a positive community experience   
    This will be my last post in the suggestions forum.  I know this will be immediately locked, if not deleted, but this is what I need to make clear as clearly and concisely as possible.
     
    There is no point of there being a suggestions forum if ideas are not open to debate.  When ideas do not get a fair count.
     
    It is not fair that users can only up-vote, but administrators can up and down-vote.  This is a passive method of manipulating the opinion of the community where it is impossible to down-vote an administrators comment, yet they can down-vote a typical user.  That gives the illusion of positive bias.
     
    It is particularly disconcerting that I get down-voted because I give feedback on the crazy precedents of the legal systems of some countries.  Life isn't fair, some people get screwed 'fair and square', but down-voting a comment that I wrote with intentions of improving the community shows me the short sidedness of the staff monitoring the forums.  I know it's them that did that, because they are the only ones that can down-vote.
     
    Until I see a policy change in voting comments, again, I will no longer post suggestion or exercise any effort to improve the accessibility, functionality or broadening capability of this site.  It is not worth having my record here negatively marked by my positive intentions.  It is not worth the distress it causes either.
  23. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to babemeetsworld in Dreamt about you and wet my bed...   
    Today, I did something really bad... Let's just say I got a little bit too comfortable with diapers. I was cleaning and I decided to take a nap. My dream felt so real, but I was only asleep for an hour I think. I knew I needed to go pee before I fell asleep but I was so tired from cleaning that once I hit my bed I was too lazy to move. I had a dream that I was on an island with him. We were stuck on this dangerous island with leopards and monkeys. (I always have nightmares, so it was pretty weird) I remember this leopard was running after me and I couldnt find him anywhere. I was so lost and so scared, I ran until I found a river. He was there, just throwing rocks in the water. All I can hear is a waterfall, and the closer I went towards him the louder the rocks made dripping sounds. He looked at me and laughed, he said "there you go wetting yourself again". I guess when I was running from that leopard I was so scared that I wet myself. He kissed me and I woke up! My jeans were wet and cold and I was so confused. I touched myself, I did something bad and that turns me on. Wetting my bed was a bad girl thing and I had to sleep in it to teach myself a lesson. I got up and tried to take off my jeans and threw them in the laundry room. I took pictures for him (he loves this stuff too) but I've realized right now is probably not the best time to send them to him, so I'm going to post them here...
    Etuhanlo, if you're reading this, have fun.
  24. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to Zaku II in Make Her Pee! [Interactive Story]   
    I like to see Jeri. :)
  25. Upvote
    Foxlover reacted to StrikeoutSeekr in Getting a new job!   
    I think I just strained my lower back in excitement
    ;-;
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