Vena Sera

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About Vena Sera

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  1. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Fully emptying your bladder or just enough to relieve the pain?
  2. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Until you begin to leak uncontrollably, perhaps? (At this point I'd like to mention that you should just pee if its hurting)
  3. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Not sure. Sit maybe?
  4. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Reach your limit (wherever that is), then let go
  5. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Try and keep holding!
  6. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Even better! Pardon me if it's too intrusive (and feel free to ignore this if it is), but can you upload pictures?
  7. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    Sure, why not? Also, if you don't mind me asking, which leotard are you wearing? The red bottom or black bottom?
  8. Vena Sera

    Should I pee in a competition leotard

    if your floor isn't too hard to clean up (e.g. hard wood/marble), then floor if it is (e.g. carpet), then anywhere else
  9. Vena Sera

    An Unlucky First Day

    Thank you!
  10. Vena Sera

    Live Action Omorashi

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

    An Unlucky First Day

    Thanks for the feedback!
  12. 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!
  13. 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.