Vena Sera

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  1. Vena Sera

    An Unlucky First Day

    Thank you!
  2. Vena Sera

    Live Action Omorashi

    If you don't mind me asking, did you make it past the debriefing?
  3. Vena Sera

    An Unlucky First Day

    Thanks for the feedback!
  4. Vena Sera

    An Unlucky First Day

    The phone on the study table vibrated to life, playing a melodic keyboard tune as it rang for someone to shut it up. Its decibel level gradually passed comfortable levels as its cries drowned out the gentle drumming of the rain outside. It continued convulsing atop the wooden surface, as if crying for someone's attention, the cacophonous tune seemingly directed towards the bed beside it; rather, whatever was hidden beneath a layer of blankets that had been draped over on top of it. The blankets slowly and methodically rose and fell, but never made any other movements. The tranquil imagery was abruptly disrupted by the sudden movements of the bedsheets, which were unceremoniously tossed aside as a girl lay beneath. Jolting up and snatching the phone away from the table, she hastily woke it up, and her eyes went wide upon noticing the numbers flashing back at her. Holy SHIT! Risa thought to herself as she realised the amount of time left before school began - exactly 10 minutes; she couldn't afford to be late, at least not today! She rushed to the kitchen, where she had left her laundry to dry, hoping that at least one pair was usable. She froze at the sight that beheld her in a mixture of disbelief and sadness. Pairs upon pairs of bras and panties were drenched to varying degrees, none dry enough to be worn. It was the most important batch of laundry that she had, yet the one that she had forgotten to do until the night before. Having no time to wait and unwilling to sacrifice sleep, she had hung them up against an open window, hoping for the midnight wind to blow it dry, but evidently got more than what she had expected. That was all of her underwear, rendered unusable. She ran back to the bedroom, and yanked a drawer open, and after some hasty scanning, pulled out a garment from beneath. The garment in question happened to be a one-piece swimsuit, one that she wore for swimming training and competition years ago. She held it at arm’s length, and briefly inspected it. The suit was dyed a modest medium gray all around, with the manufacturer’s logo – dyed white – stamped on the chest. Risa wagered that the suit was potentially a tad bit small, but what choice did she have? Sighing, she squeezed herself into the swimsuit, and upon sliding on the straps, took a quick glance at the mirror. To her surprise, the synthetic spandex material wrapped itself snugly around the girl's torso, giving the swimsuit a skin-tight fit, but wasn't overly uncomfortable. That also meant that her otherwise unimpressive bust and hips were accentuated, giving the girl a slight figure. It was awkward, but it'll do. She proceeded to throw the rest of her outfit on - a plain white long-sleeved blouse with her new school's crest embossed onto its breast pocket, complemented with a plaid skirt that was dyed a deep forest green, which she pulled up to the belly. Tucking her blouse in, she proceeded to tie on the mandatory tie, its green hue identical to that of her skirt, and was cleverly contrasted with diagonal silver stripes that uniformly stretched across. "Ah." She thought aloud, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. "This... would be awkward." She mentioned, referring to the gray swimsuit, its' gray hue poking through the translucent white blouse. The last thing she'd need was an explanation of her underwear choices. With that thought, she threw on a tan sweater over her clothes, giving herself a barrier of comfort. Just then, she felt a noticeable pressure emanating from between her hips. Her bladder had been filling up since the night before, and began to make itself known, presenting itself as the aforementioned pressure and a subtle, yet noticeable bulge beneath her belly. While she would normally play around with it on any regular morning, she was unfortunately running very late. Hurrying over to the toilet, she quickly lifted her skirt up, pulli- Oh, right. She thought to herself, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface underneath. That. Sighing, she eagerly stared at the toilet bowl - she really could use some relief, but getting the suit off required taking everything else off, and was going to guarantee tardiness - unacceptable for her first day. She thought about pulling it aside, but didn't trust her aim enough to try; her past experiences with doing so taught her that it would go everywhere but the bowl. Instead, she settled with just rinsing her mouth with mouthwash, before hastily completing preparations for school, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the house, opting to use the bathrooms there instead. With the rain having been reduced to a light drizzle, Risa opted to make a dash for school. As she began sprinting out of the building, however, her pace soon slowed to an awkward fast-paced shuffle. The culprit? Her bladder, which was being a nuisance, weighing itself down and preventing swift, sudden movements, lest she wanted to turn up at school with her crotch a different shade. Immediately regretting her hasty decision-making, she continued brisk-walking the rest of the way there, hoping that she would make it in time. Thankfully, she barely made it - the joys of living in the boarding school. Dashing past the gates, Risa barely made it on time as the security guards closed it shut behind her. She now had a new task at hand - to find a toilet, and fast! Looking around the unfamiliar compound, she noticed a signboard hanging from the ceiling, and inscribed on it was the symbols of hope for her - the toilets were straight ahead! She immed- "Excuse me, miss?" A stern, feminine voice called out. Stunned by the sudden voice, Risa turned around, and found herself face to face to the owner of the voice - a burly, bespectacled woman, whose work suit struggled to keep itself together. Risa didn't recognise her, but she was also sufficiently intimidated by her towering figure to do anything else. "Classes are about to start," She continued, blocking the poor girl from going anywhere but the classrooms. "Please find your classrooms and wait there for homeroom." "Please, ma'am, please." Risa pleaded, shoving her hand into her crotch to exaggerate her predicament, hoping to gain some sympathy points. "I really need to use the bathroom." "Did I stutter?" The woman retorted, solidifying her stance. "Homeroom doesn't take more than ten minutes anyways, just go after that." Not wanting any trouble, she found her designated class on a whiteboard by a wall, and reluctantly made her way into her classroom. Locating an empty seat, she dropped her bag down onto the desk, and headed for the door. Just as she was about to leave for the toilets, a middle-aged man entered the room. Clearing his throat, he gestured for all of them to return to our seats, before writing a name on the board. "Allow me to introduce myself." Mr. Rockwell began. "I am your homeroom teacher, Mr Rockwell." He continued talking, but Risa paid him no mind. Just shut up and leave so that I can use the bathroom. She mentally chastised. After some unimportant droning, he soon ceased all communications to nobody in particular and went back to retrieve his bag from the teachers' table, inciting a silent cheer from the desperate girl. "As Mathematics is also the first class of the day," Mr. Rockwell continued, pulling a textbook from the bag. "We'll immediately begin lessons. I don't believe anyone needs anything before this, so let's begin." Risa shot a hand up, desperately wanting to protest, but immediately retracted it halfway as she realised that nobody else seemed to mind. Not wanting unnecessary embarrassment, she decided to try focusing on the lesson instead, doing everything she could to ignore the rapidly saturating biological water balloon. That proved to be the single worst decision that she’d ever made, as she soon found herself desperately holding on, her bladder hanging by a thread. Shifting about, she was equal parts amazed and dismayed at the rate her need to pee exponentially increased. Suddenly, violent, successive shudders rocked Risa's frame as her bladder reminded her about its existence. She managed to lock her bladder up, but not before a good amount of it escaped through her sphincters. She looked around, and found that nobody was paying any attention to her. Utilising this opportunity, she pulled her skirt up a little, and her face lost all colour. Her crotch was now visibly wet, and a small puddle had formed on her seat. Gritting her teeth and stuffing her non-dominant hand into her crotch, she pretended to listen to the class, all the while dedicating all resources to disaster prevention. After what appeared to be forever, the bell of salvation finally rang. She urgently waited for the teacher to leave, and as soon as he stepped out of the room, Risa dashed out in desperation. Navigating and successfully reaching the toilet, she was pleased to find the entire bathroom vacant. She dashed into a stall, and lifted her skirt up, pull- Ah, fuck. She thought to herself, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface underneath. That. She was now at a loss - how was she going to take all her layers - a pullover sweater, a button-up blouse, and a one-piece swimsuit - off? Unfortunately, there wasn't enough time for her to answer that question, as her bladder buzzed once again. Risa's eyes went wide, and she buckled over, pressing her thighs together in pain and futility as the torture began. It started as violent, successive spurts into her swimsuit. The spurts momentarily subsided, though she could still feel all of her bladders' contents smashing against her sphincter. As if her mind was being controlled by an external force, she suddenly buckled over once again, this time freezing in position, as her dam’s walls began to fail, the biding torrent waiting for its chance to wreak havoc to anything standing in the way. She was no longer in control of her bladder - her bladder was controlling her. It demanded to be released, but she couldn't move an inch - rather, she wouldn't dare. Sensing a checkmate, her bladder decided to go ahead anyway, relaxing itself against her will, and before she knew it, she found herself urinating in full force. Admitting defeat, Risa now focused on damage control. Hiking her skirt away from the flood, she sat on the toilet as urine violently escaped her bladder, filtering itself through the spandex underwear, streaming down relentlessly into the depths below. Her facial expression twisted itself to an amalgamation of embarrassment and relief as she wet herself in full force; the warmth around her crotch hurt so good. Shuddering one last time as the last drops of urine ejected itself from her body, Risa let out a silent moan as a mixture of relief, euphoria and shame all simultaneously surged through her mind. As she slowly came back to reality, her attention now turned to hiding her accident. She pulled her skirt up to her chin, and her face immediately fell when she witnessed the damage. “Soaked” was a massive understatement to describe the state of her underwear. The swimsuit was wet all the way up the gusset, creating a massive dark gray patch at the front. Reaching her hand behind, she found that the back didn’t fare any better – the spandex covering her butt was fully saturated with pee, and as her hand darted side to side, she could tell that a large area behind her was unmistakably a dark shade, and even if her skirt miraculously hid everything, the looming stench of urine was a dead giveaway. She reached into the toilet paper dispenser, and was dealt another blow – it was empty. Additionally, she could hear rapid shuffling of feet, as well as lively chatter between students. Risa could tell that a crowd had began to gather, and soon, she found all the stalls around her were occupied, and a small queue was now beginning to form outside. She now faced another dilemma - how would she proceed? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I wrote another story, and thought I'd post it here. Sorry if my constant use of swimsuits is beginning to sound boring; I just like it like that. Once again, do tell me what your thoughts on the story, and any improvements that could be made to my writing!
  5. Vena Sera

    Short comic by pixiv artist BIBI

    A short comic that I found here. All credit goes to artist BIBI. pixiv
  6. Vena Sera

    How did your pee fetish start?

    Back when I was around 12 or 13, I used to attend weekly swim classes on the regular since young, and had made friends with a girl from that class, let's call her Lynn (obviously not her real name). Like myself, Lynn had also been attending classes over there for a while now, and we became close friends as such. We were both about the same age, but unlike myself, who was taller than most kids at the time, Lynn was rather petite in contrast. On that day, Lynn arrived to the pool later than usual, after most of the class (myself included) had already completed a couple of warmup laps prior to the lesson. She wore the same swimsuit as always – a solid colour bright-pink one-piece swimsuit. She had owned it for a while then, and its age clearly showed from the slight discolouration and its skintight fit on her tiny frame. The coach then called all of us to get out of the pool (save Lynn, who hadn't entered the pool yet), and beckoned us over to the opposite end where he was, as he had an important announcement to make. I no longer remember what the announcement was for, but I remembered noticing Lynn acting really fidgety during a casual conversation with her, and also saw an uncharacteristically large bulge below her belly, which I now know as a “bladder bulge”. The class fanned around the coach, and Lynn and I opted to sit towards the back of the class. I let her take the space in front of me, seeing as to how I'd end up blocking her if I sat in front instead. I remembered spacing out for a bit, before noticing something growing out the corner of my eye. Turning my attention towards it, I noticed that the movements were, in fact, a puddle beginning to grow out from below Lynn, its radius gradually increasing around her for about half a minute. The spandex fabric also began to grow darker around her butt, a clear indication of the spandex fabric soaking it up. I then heard a soft sigh of relief, as the puddle stopped expanding. I was confused. She couldn’t have peed, right? We were too old for that; plus, she showed zero signs of trying to hold it in! But, unlike the rest of us, who were sopping wet from the warm-up laps earlier, she was still bone-dry (save for her crotch). She wasn't carrying around any bottles or drink containers that could’ve explained the spill, either. It then came to my attention – Lynn had wet herself. I was mostly taken aback by the realisation, but also noticed a strong, inexplicable pleasure at the sight of her little 'accident' (which I am now familiar of as “arousal”). I was also amazed by how nobody else seemed to have noticed, either – likely as everyone else was also dripping wet. The announcement then ended, and the coach ordered us to return to the swimming pool. Lynn then slowly got up, and turned around to face me. Her crotch was absolutely soaked from front to back, the fabric around her crotch a darker shade of pink, reaching up to the gusset. As we were walking back, I questioned her about the puddle, to which she nonchalantly replied that she couldn’t hold it in anymore, and just gave in and peed. I was intrigued, and the more I thought about her accident and her surprisingly casual reaction to the matter, the more aroused I got. The rest of the lesson was forgettable, but that memory stayed with me. While it wasn’t the only time I’ve seen her wet herself throughout the years, it was definitely the most memorable one, and one that likely sparked the pee (and swimsuit) fetish that I have today.
  7. Vena Sera

    Poolside

    Thanks for the inputs! To be honest, I thought that the story was becoming too draggy (~1.3k words), and was worried that any more descriptive paragraphs would end up boring the reader out. I'll try to factor this in the next time I end up writing.
  8. Vena Sera

    Poolside

    The country's Cinderella story at the recent Olympic Games shook the entire nation, it's citizens witnessing a pivotal moment in their country's history — their first ever Gold. The medal, an upset win in the Men's 100m Butterfly event, suddenly generated waves of interest in the sport, exhibited by the sudden spike in traffic at swimming pools across the nation. Coupled with the semester break holidays, everywhere was packed. While "everywhere" may have been an exaggeration, said observation was at least true for the pool Kyra was at, based on what she could see. Sitting atop an elevated chair, she had a bird's eye view of the sudden spike in attendance — there were much more people out and about. Coaches were revelling in an influx of revenue as little children lined the pool walls, their parents either caught up in conversations with each other, swimming alongside their offspring or just generally minding their own businesses, glued to a screen or silently observing the lesson. The Olympic-sized pool next to it was also similarly filled, with adolescents and teenagers doing laps under a watchful eye and a stopwatch on one side, and elderly people swimming considerably slower than they were likely imagining themselves to be on another. Kyra took her eyes off the pool momentarily as she swept away beads of sweat accumulating on her temples, the long sleeves of her yellow rashguard a significantly different shade as it wiped off hours of continuous sweat. In fact, the staff-issued rashguard, firmly wrapped around her torso, was only dry where it stretched over the one-piece competition swimsuit she had on beneath, outlining the suit, which was equally drenched in sweat from the torso up, its fire engine red dye discoloured from the sweat. The skin-tight swimsuit's fit further dug into her skin, inciting reactionary squirms from time to time. Such is life in the tropics — where sweltering, humid heat was the daily weather forecast for the entire day, irregardless of the time of year. She subconsciously grabbed her bottle, preparing to rehydrate herself from all the fluids lost under the tropical heat, but hesitated and returned it to its original position upon noticing the time. There was still three hours until the end of her shift, and Management had specifically told them that they weren't allowed to leave their posts for whatever reason unless another lifeguard could take over, with the only exceptions being when in the midst of saving someone or being called over. Due to the unusually high traffic this time around, it appeared, from her perspective, that every other colleague on her shift had their hands full as well. This was bad news for Kyra, who was appearing distinctly more uncomfortable as time passed by. While hydration was of utmost importance, especially given the atrocious weather, she hadn't taken into account the by-product of doing so, and the excess amounts of fluids was beginning to build up. While it wasn't at a critical stage as of yet, she wanted to keep it as low as possible. Giving into thirst and taking small sips from the bottle, she began toying with random things within her reach, anything from playing with her whistle, examining the split ends of her hair, which was neatly bunched into a ponytail, and her locker key, which hung loosely around her bony wrist from a hairband, to bending the rim of her cap and even scrolling through social media on her phone(Management allowed it, as long as it didn't inhibit employees' ability to do their job), anything to keep her mind off her current predicament. Needless to say, there were other issues inhibiting Kyra's ability to do her job, her concentration gradually waning as commitments and needs both wrestled for her attention. She guiltily knocked back a gulp out of dehydration, only to instantaneously regret it as her bladder protested against the entry of additional liquids, her desperation amplified as the skin-tight swimsuit barricaded it from expanding, instead further constricting it and worsening her predicament. It didn't help that her phone's battery went flat, and everyone was being safe and responsible in the pool, meaning that she had nothing else to focus on other than the dam that was swelling up inside her, its walls weakened and cracked from the immense pressure of the river it held back. Digging a hand into her crotch and clamping her legs shut, she reinforced the dam's structural integrity as she tried to formulate a plan to allow her to leave for the toilets, all the while trying to look as calm and as stoic as possible. She was, after all, in full view of everyone, and attracting unwanted attention was the last thing she needed. She couldn't just drop everything and go; not only would she be violating the rules she had to abide to as a lifeguard, but it would also be rather irresponsible to leave an entire pool unattended just to relieve herself. However, as aforementioned, it appeared that no other colleague was free to take over either, nor was she close enough to any of them, both physically and socially, to be able to get them to take over for her, even for just a short while, and with two full hours left in her shift, the probability of holding it until her shift was over was close to zero. By now, both her hands were jammed into her crotch, in a desperate attempt to hold it in. Her dam was about to blow; its walls lined with structural cracks and the reinforcements barely keeping it together. Her sweat considerably dropped in temperature as she attempted to keep the bottom half of her body dry. Just then, Kyra found a glimmer of hope — a colleague walking in her direction! She flailed her arms about, hoping to capture the attention of the unsuspecting passer-by, and find herself some relief. However, no sooner had she moved her arms away from her crotch than she felt a feeling spread in the same location. The feeling of futility, of embarrassment, and of warmth as the dam finally burst, its walls too weakened to obstruct the torrential wave that had built up inside of her. In disbelief and denial, Kyra sent her left hand down to investigate, her face almost immediately flushing in reaction to the warm liquid that was continuously spilling out of her crotch, her fingers confirming that she, indeed, was having an accident in public, on the job and atop a high chair, in view of everyone, no less. The golden liquid fell through gaps in-between the metal planks that made up the chair, showering down and pooling into a puddle below. Kyra kept a poker face as her bladder continued to empty itself, thankful that the loud, crowded chatter muted the otherwise deafening sounds of liquid splattering onto the ground, and that nobody appeared to have been aware of her public accident. After an eternity later, all liquids backed up in her system had finally been purged out, and any sense of relief was quickly overwhelmed by embarrassment. Gingerly prying her thighs apart, she was devastated to find that her crotch was soaked all the way up the gusset, the soiled red lycra darkened and stained with a faint yellow tinge that extended up to her bladder. She couldn't examine exactly how waterlogged her rear was, but she was, unfortunately, confident that it was just as bad, if not worse. A familiar scent wafted around, a dead giveaway of what just occurred. Sighing, Kyra proceeded to establish her current predicament in her head — she was now stuck up atop a chair, soaked in sweat and urine. Her shift wouldn't end until a few hours later, meaning she'd have to endure sitting around in saturated swimwear, its bright colours only serving to project her accident out for the entire pool to witness. The nearest showers were located across the pool, and she'd have to walk a fair distance, with her accident in plain sight, to get there. And to top it all off, She needed to pee again. _______________________________________________________________ Thanks for reading my second story all the way until the end! As always, messing on my writing constructive feedback would be greatly appreciated.
  9. Vena Sera

    Survey for College Assignment

    1. Have you noticed an increase with the use of profanity on TV? No. 2. Do you watch more or less than 3 hours of TV a day? Less. 3. Do you watch TV shows that use profanity? Yes. 4. Are children more likely to use profanity because of media or environment? Environment; though media kind of counts as an environment. 5. Do you agree with profanity used often on TV? Depends on context; if just thrown around for the sake of it or for fun then no. 6. Do you find TV shows that use profanity to be more relatable? No. 7. Would you allow children to watch Disney Jr.? Yes. 8. Has technology made profanity more acceptable on TV? Yes. 9. Would you feel offended if a child said “crap”? Once again, context; though largely no. 10. Do you feel that TV ratings (TV-Y, TV-7, TV-G, TV-14, TV-MA) are effective? Not at all.
  10. Vena Sera

    Train Ride

    The train idly coasted down its tracks, crossing through roads, fields and residential districts along its path. Drivers were forced to stop at intersections, as they gave way to the comparatively massive metal caterpillar, it's entrance capturing the attention of everyone in the area. Salarymen and women glared at it in annoyance, impatiently waiting for it to pas, hastily rushing across the tracks once it did, longing to find some solace from work back at their homes. An elderly man softly gazed at it as the train passed him on his leisurely stroll, reminiscing and comparing these modern trains to those he fondly remembered back when he was in high school. A group of children paused their game of tag as the train passed by, staring at the disruption in a mixture of awe and mild annoyance. At least, this was all that Masumi was able to capture as she stared out the transparent glass window. Her head faced at the window outside, as she leaned back against a plastic panel beside a row of filled seats, standing with her right foot crossed over her left. Her large gym bag was slung across her right shoulder, the cylindrical black bag itself positioned in front of her. Her right hand dug into her skirt pocket, while her left hand was hidden behind her gym bag. To the unsuspecting eye, it was just a high school girl leaning back, evidently exhausted from what could be assumed to have been physical training of some sort. Masumi, however, knew better. Though she was tired, her mind was wide awake and restless. She tried her hardest to continue filling her brain with the faces, houses and cars that passed by, hopelessly trying to distract herself from thinking about her current predicament. However, all that she could focus on was her bladder, which was starting to strain under the ever-growing amount of liquid that was being built-up. Her left hand, strategically positioned in between her skirt and bag and hidden from plain sight, discreetly shifted itself beneath the waistband of her skirt, coming into contact with the skin-tight spandex underwear beneath. Sliding down the smooth material, she felt a bump around her pelvic region, almost like her bladder was swollen beyond capacity. Sighing, she turned her focus to a digital map displayed on a screen overhead, displaying the train's current location. Her destination, Omiya Station, was the very next stop. She breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, and silently prayed for the rest of her ride to go smoothly, inconspicuously grabbing herself in an effort to keep it in as the train rode over the urban street. A few minutes passed, and the train rolled into the massive behemoth of a station. Omiya served as an interchange for at least fifteen different lines plying through the Greater Tokyo area, and therefore was a stop for almost everyone on the train, Masumi included. The hydraulic doors slowly slid open, and at once people began rushing out of the train, crowding out the platform and causing a human jam. Jostling with the other commuters, Masumi managed to break through the crowd, and found herself free from the melee behind her. Her attention immediately went to the signboards above, as she obediently followed the signs that directed her to the restrooms. As she made her way into areas with lesser traffic, she managed to break into a brisk walk, speeding up her search for the corridor that led to salvation. Her bladder muscles slowly began to fail from the pressure of the swollen biological river, dripping out and getting caught in her swimsuit. In reaction, her haste increased, and she began walking even faster, in a bid to reach the restroom in time. Giddy with desperation, she began subconsciously following random signs that, unfortunately, didn't lead to a restroom, instead to random parts of the station. However, her mind too distracted at her losing battle to take notice, and she continued aimlessly walking around. Her weakened bladder muscles allowed more liquid to flow through, causing her to leak through her swimsuit. She could feel her crotch warming up slightly, and she began to panic. An observant person would probably be able to notice the slightly transparent but glossy streaks that ran down her legs, gleaming under the white LED lights of the station, as well as the droplets that were left on the ground with every step forward she took. Masumi's problem grew dire as the bathroom was still nowhere in her sight. She began to hunch over, one hand jammed between her legs. A sheen of sweat formed on her forehead, and her eyes darted around, unable to focus on anything other direction except up, hoping to find directions to the nearest restrooms. Her fidgety, restless and erratic movements caused a small stir, as other commuters began to stare at her, wondering if she was alright. Running into a crowded part of the station, she caught the attention of even more commuters with her actions. Their reactions varied; some glanced at her in pity, while others stared at her with concern, and a handful even gazed at the desperate girl in arousal as she dashed past them, fantasies about a high school student having an accident in front of their eyes running wild through their minds. However, all of them elected to avert their respective gazes and carry on their way, not wanting to trouble themselves with the responsibility of helping her out, or accidentally create a misunderstanding. In the direction she was almost sprinting toward lay a puddle of spilt water, left by a clumsy child with his water bottle. Masumi never saw the puddle, however, and ran right into it. Her right foot lost all traction, momentarily hydroplaning and causing her to slip backward. The sudden shift in weight resulted in her completely losing her balance, crash-landing butt-first onto the floor. Her skirt lifted itself up with the momentum of her fall and folded up, revealing the light blue swimsuit she wore underneath, the crotch darkened from leaking. The darkness then began to spread, a direct result of total bladder failure arising from the sudden fall. As urine began to spill out of her, she sat completely still, as if spontaneously frozen in place in shock. The transparent puddle beneath her began to grow as a familiar warm liquid mixed with the spilt water, a clear indication to the increasing crowd around her, that she didn't make it. As her bladder fully voided itself onto the floor, she made the mistake of lifting her gaze, and came face to face with an entire crowd of curious onlookers, all watching her accident unfold, but none willing to step up and help. Helpless, ashamed and afraid, these emotions soon overwhelmed Masumi like a tidal wave, breaking her down into a bawling mess on the floor. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope this continuation worked out well - I'm not really sure as to how I wanted this to go, and ended up with this.I hope it's okay don't murder me
  11. Vena Sera

    Train Ride

    Guess I'm continuing this.*holds breath* ------------------------------------------------ Embarrassment was too weak a word to describe the feeling that coursed through Masumi's mind as she boarded the bus. Deflecting eye contact with the bus driver, she hurriedly scanned her IC on the sensor, and took off in what can only be described as an awkward brisk walk toward the back of the bus, which was less densely populated with commuters. Finding a seat at the rear corner, she placed her gym bag on the seat, and carefully aligned her skirt with the bag, ensuring that her urine-soaked swimsuit only made contact with the black, waterproof sack. Squishing the excess air out of the bag, she balanced herself the seat, and shifted her focus on the view outside. The air-conditioned atmosphere found its way under her skirt and tickled her damp crotch, distracting her from thinking about anything other than her predicament.Masumi was no stranger to going in her clothes, and being in the swim club meant that her suit was probably subjected to an equal amount of urine as chlorinated water and perspiration. This was especially so, given the tough training routine that the club had that resulted in a lack of breaks, the strict coaches that enforced said routine, and the difficulty that came along with using a toilet wearing a one-piece swimsuit. Most of the time, right there and then was the only option available, as nobody dared to interrupt. Because of all this, wetting herself was something she had gotten used to, and even began to secretly enjoy. In fact, since joining the team, she had lost count of the number of times she had had an accident, sometimes even when dry or in proximity of her friends and club mates.Ideally, this meant that she should be fine with walking around soaked. However, as this was the first time that she had done so in public, this turned out to not be the case. Further compounding the problem, she had wet herself in a dry swimsuit, without a means to rinse off, and by herself with nobody even remotely familiar, let alone someone she was comfortable with, and all these factors ended up troubling her to no end. She could only hope the smell associated with urine hadn't plagued the entire bus as she hopped off a few stops later, silently apologising for it in her head. With the thought of stench still prominently lingering in her mind, she took a detour to a nearby FamilyMart, and purchased a bottle of scented lotion, and four bottles of mineral water with it, though the thought of placing that anywhere near her mouth was unthinkable at this point. She lathered a small amount on her thighs and forearms, masking herself with the scent of aloe vera extract, before hurriedly heading off.She made it to the pool exactly ten minutes late. To make matters worse, it was Coach Kitada's turn to coach. Amongst all the coaches in the swim club, Coach Kitada was the strictest by a mile. His gruff and hoarse voice, from many years of coaching, resembled sandpaper rubbing being amplified through a megaphone. His drill sergeant, no-nonsense attitude meant that any nail that stuck out, technique or behavior-wise, would be swiftly jackhammered down. His keen eye, almost always hidden behind a pair of vintage Ray-Bans, never missed anything around the pool, almost like a surveillance camera that was locked on every single student.Coach Kitada almost instantaneously caught the tardy girl — though, in her defense, she never really made an effort to hide her presence. Nevertheless, he swiftly delivered a punishment of twenty extra laps in the pool to be carried out after lessons, with a side of yelling out a lecture on punctuality at ear-piercing decibels, voice never wavering the entire time, and attracting the entire club's attention. Masumi, on the other hand, was just glad to be able to jump into the pool and finally rinse herself off. Three hours quickly passed in the midst of frantic training, swimming laps and conditioning, and the club was soon dismissed. Masumi quickly took a shower to cool herself down and almost shotgunned all her bottles of water in thirst and exhaustion. She dried herself off, changed into her school uniform, and wrapped her towel around her swimsuit and wrung it, transferring as much moisture as possible from the spandex to the towel, before hanging the former up on a rack to dry. Everyone had already changed and left, leaving her all alone inside. She lay on a wooden bench, waiting for it to dry, and soon fell asleep from exhaustion.Having not set an alarm, Masumi soundlessly slept for a longer than intended period of time, only stirring when shaken awake by a security guard, who was locking up the place. In a panic, she quickly squeezed into her swimsuit (which had fully dried by then), threw her remaining belongings into a bag, and hopped on the first bus to the train station, all the while frantically calling her mother, and informing her about her slip up. Alighting from the bus, she sped into the train station, and managed to catch one back home, right before it left. The night train, though still reasonably empty, had much more commuters on it now, leaving only standing room for Masumi. She stood by a corner, and decided to browse the web to kill time. Whilst idly swiping through her phone, however, she felt a sudden urge for the bathroom, this time even stronger than the initial wave of desperation she felt when she wet herself earlier. Unlike previously, however, her large jacket had been stuffed in her bag, and the train had started to grow crowded with people, leaving no room for her to retrieve said article of clothing. She clammed her thighs together, and gently applied pressure as her face formed a cute frown of frustration and unease. ----------------------------------------------------------- I hope these additional paragraphs were fine.once again pls be gentle I haven't really figured out how I want this to go, so I'm leaving it like this for now. You're welcome to post how you think it should end, if you'd wish.
  12. Vena Sera

    Train Ride

    I currently have no plans to do so, but feel free to throw ideas for a continuation below (or PM me, either way works).