kochel428

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About kochel428

  • Rank
    Soaking Wet
  • Birthday 04/01/1982

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    Male
  • Sexual Orientation
    Heterosexual
  • Location
    New York

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  1. EvilTwin, have you thought about doing a Q&A post in the omo discussion forum? I feel like people (me included) have a lot of questions they’re too nervous to ask a doctor.
  2. kochel428

    Told my gf about my *other* fetish

    Hey, thanks for the well wishes! While I don't think I would share pics of a partner unless she actively asked me to, I also don't think asking for it on this forum is out of bounds. I mean, I'm assuming some percentage of people reading this post will be imagining my cute nurse messing herself regardless of the presence of photos. I'm not possessive about my gf in other people's fantasy lives—or in general, for that matter.
  3. kochel428

    Told my gf about my *other* fetish

    yeah that seems like not a great strategy I honestly thought I would take my messing secret with me to the grave. Something about my current girlfriend told me she would be ok with it, and I was right! Basically, people with our fetish should date medical professionals, haha. They are unflappable about bodily functions.
  4. kochel428

    Favourite desperation scenario?

    I go back and forth, round and about, but I think my current favorite scenario is being out for a night of drinking, and being told by my girlfriend that I'm not allowed to go to the toilet. I struggle and plead for her to let me go, but she just shrugs and says if I need to go so badly I can go in my pants. As we keep drinking beer I finally lose control and make a puddle under my barstool. She proceeds to punish me by making me keep holding and having accidents all night. I wake up in the night desperate again, but I'm still not allowed to go, so I struggle and finally lose control in bed as she sleeps next to me. The next morning she wakes to find the bed soaked, and orders me to use my pants as a toilet for the rest of the day. Weakened from the night before, and forced to constantly drink, I spend the day trying my best to hold, but having barely any control, with accident after accident. Sorry, were you looking for a realistic scenario? Lol. That said, my girlfriend has agreed to do something like this soon, so you'll all be hearing about it when it happens.
  5. kochel428

    Wetting Dares [NEW]

    Nice report! What you did is one kind of fun, but I found trying to maintain a steady dribble without either stopping the flow or letting go entirely for a long period of time to be a special kind of torture.
  6. kochel428

    Wetting Dares [NEW]

    Wow that was amazing. I dribbled nearly continuously for about 50 minutes. Over the course of the time I did it, it got harder and harder to pee at all without going full force – presumably the muscles holding partially closed just got tired, but also my bladder started pushing harder. Eventually I didn't have the will power to hold back, so I just finished wetting myself and now I'm sitting in a soaked pullup and my pants and the towel I'm sitting on are soaked as well. Basically, it felt amazing and you should try it.
  7. kochel428

    Wetting Dares [NEW]

    I have a new dare, I'm going to be trying it today. This can be a home dare, or could be done in public with the right setting and the right clothing. Get your bladder good and full, without necessarily getting super desperate. Once you're in a good place, start gradually peeing your pants. Don't go full force, instead try to have a fairly steady dribble. Once you're doing that, start drinking water or another beverage at approximately replacement rate. The goal is to see how long you can dribble continuously in your pants, with no more than a few seconds of stoppage at a time. Can you make it ten minutes? half an hour? an hour? Can you pee nearly continuously all day? If you need to stop and recharge at some point, try to top your previous amount of time after drinking a few glasses of water and waiting. Bonus points if you can continue normal activity like work, cooking, or chores. I'll be wearing a pullup for this, which does a good job containing a dribble but not a full on wetting. That or black clothing could also make this a public dare, if you wanted to, for instance, walk down a busy street, or chill in a bar or a park. I'll report back! Let me know if you do this dare as well.
  8. kochel428

    Told my gf about my *other* fetish

    So. I did it. I had some morning errands to run the other day, and my gf had the day off. So I held my poo through the morning, and when I got back to her place I was really desperate. She sat on the toilet and wouldn't let me go, though. I was sitting there mildly squirming, and she said, "hm, I'm going to be a while, I guess you'll have to go in your pants." I put on a pull up that I had brought over, and I paced around for a while. She was very encouraging, but refused to get off the toilet. Finally I "gave in" and filled my pants. Then I went down on her for a while, and then, yes yes yes, I snipped a hole in the front of the pullup and fucked her. With a load in my pants. I can't believe it happened. Honestly, it was kind of weird. I felt very nervous and uncomfortable. It was kind of like losing my virginity—I guess I need more practice in order to really have fun. But thinking about it now is amazing.
  9. It's similar to when you know you're about to drop a heavy weight—I can feel how tired my muscles are, at the same time I feel how hard my bladder is squeezing it out. Even when I'm really having an accident, it's not like the bottom suddenly drops out, it's like no matter how hard I try to hold, I feel my muscles giving in. This is making me start to want to do a hold...
  10. kochel428

    How do you end your holds?

    It depends, but when I'm really holding I'll usually do several sessions to tire my body out. I like to push myself to the point of leaking, pee some (either emptying my bladder or peeing for a controlled amount of time) into either my pants or the toilet. The ultimate goal, though, is something like an uncontrollable accident in my pants. It takes a long time but it's well worth it.
  11. kochel428

    The Toilet

    Thank you! Glad at least a few people liked it. I have to ask though—what’s an 08/15 story?
  12. kochel428

    The Toilet

    Reminder: this has messing in it. It is rather messing focused. You've been warned. Part 3: Falling When I woke again my penis had finally gone limp. Jen felt like she had become thirty pounds heavier, and Emily was gone. It was dark outside. Jen yawned and snuggled in tighter against me, but after a moment she lifted her head and shivered. Reaching back, she pulled the covers over us and began kissing my neck. "Mm, toilet," she whispered in her low purr, "I need to get fucked again." She began rubbing herself on my crotch, and to my surprise I found myself hard against my will. She didn't stop riding me when Emily came in with several plastic bags of to go food, bustling in the kitchen area that was next to the bed. She finally came as Emily brought plates and started laying them on the bedside table. "He needs rest, hun," Emily admonished her. "But he's such a sweet toilet, Emily, I wanted him to fill me up again." She was still rolling her hips with me inside of her, keeping me just on the edge of orgasm. It was agony until she finally slipped up and down quickly enough to let me come. Jen gave a little gasp and smiled down at me. "There, now he can rest." She lifted off of my cock, too soon, and swiveled around to position herself over my mouth. I felt my own semen dripping onto my lips, and a moment later my mouth was filled with her hot piss. I drank the acrid stuff as quickly as I could. Emily had brought a small feast of various ethnic cuisines—Thai and Indian food, falafel, pulled pork burritos, and a some kind of mediterranean grain bowl. It smelled amazing, and I realized then I hadn't eaten since our date the night before. They loosened the ropes enough to prop me up with a pillow, and I felt a squish of wetness when I sat up. Emily leaned forward so she was right in front of my face. "I'm going to take this thing out of your mouth. You're going to want to talk, maybe ask questions, maybe just beg to be let go. But here's the deal: if you want to eat you won't say a word. If you ever want to get back to your pathetic life you'll stay silent. One peep out of you and you'll stay my toilet forever, baby. It's a position of honor, I'd think, but you may think differently." And then it was out. I didn't realize how sore my jaw was until I was able to close it, but as soon as I did shooting pain ran through my cheeks and up the back of my head. It was worth it to get to eat though. I scarfed down every bite that was offered, anything to get the taste of piss out of my mouth, but as I started to slow down, Emily just produced another plateful of food. While Emily fed me, Jen lounged beside me and watched TV with her plate in her lap. The screen was at an awkward angle for me, but by straining my eyes I could see the Seinfeld episode she was watching. Every once in a while she would lean her head on my shoulder for a while, before going back to her food. After two plates of food I was so full I could barely chew. I assumed the overfeeding meant I might not get food again for a while, but even so I didn't want to be sick. Halfway through my third plate, I closed my mouth and refused another bite. My stomach bulged absurdly. And then I felt my insides turn over. I had been asking myself what ounce of dignity I'd been holding onto, and now suddenly I knew what it was, what I refused to do. I'd been peeing carelessly all through dinner, but I would not shit myself. Never. After Emily had her own meal she climbed onto me and used the toilet, her pee splattering freely and caressing my balls. Then she replaced the plastic ring in my mouth, strapped it in, and pulled the ropes tight again. She sat on the right side of the bed, with Jen in between us, watching TV. I heard Jen whispering to Emily something about how she was worried that I hadn't done something, and Emily responded, "Oh don't worry, he will. And then it'll be your turn." At some point they started fingering each other, but thankfully they left me alone, and I fell asleep as they gave each other orgasms beside me. **** I woke in the middle of the night with a knot in my guts. Maybe something they had fed me had been a laxative, or maybe it had just been two days since my last BM—I was usually quite regular. But whatever it was, I felt full, and like I wouldn't be able to hold much longer. Emily and Jen were asleep next to me, Jen cuddled up in my armpit, and Emily spooning her. I knew waking them and making a scene wouldn't help me. Hell, they'd probably enjoy it. I couldn't change positions to lessen the pressure, so I did the only thing I could think of to make room: I emptied my bladder. It was a challenge to let my piss go without soiling myself, but I finally found the right set of internal levers, and soon I was soaking myself yet again. It did seem to make it easier, once that was done. Relaxed, warm, and wet, I drifted off— —And woke abruptly with hot piss pooling in my crotch and belly, snaking down my butt and teasing my aching anus. I felt a dead weight in my belly, and it wasn't just that Jen was sitting on it emptying her bladder. Emily was behind her on my crotch, and they both burst out laughing when I startled awake. They sat there casually pissing on me, and when they were done they pulled up their pants and busied themselves with breakfast. I was fitted with a bag of cold coffee first, and when that was done a bag of the pale green liquid. By the time the women had finished their own breakfast, Jen was getting impatient. "I need to use him *now*" she whined. She was pacing the room and breathing heavily, stopping every once in a while to double over sightly. Emily came and sat beside me. First she checked to see that my penis was hard—the drugs in the bag were doing their work. Then she rubbed my arm like she was consoling a sick child. "I have rules, honey. No using the toilet for number two until the toilet messes himself. Unfortunately for you, Jen really needs a shit, so I'm going to ask you to go ahead and do it." I panicked. Would she drown me again to make me do it? I gulped down the water that was dripping in my mouth as quickly as I could, but she didn't make any move toward my nose. She just calmly said, "C'mon babe. Just do it. Look at her, poor kid, she's desperate." My eyes flicked to Jen as she paced past the foot of my bed, letting out a dramatic moan. I tried to shake my head but couldn't move it far. Emily cocked her head to one side. She looked disappointed. She started to move and I let out a strangled cry, ready for the drowning to start again, but instead she pulled back the covers of the bed, and the cold stung my wet, raw skin. She left for a moment outside my vision, and when she returned, she undid my pants and slid her hand past my hard cock, down below my balls, and slipped something up my anus. Then another, and another. Then she zipped me back up again and asked one more time: "Just go now, you're going to go eventually. Why not now?" But that was the line I'd told myself I wouldn't cross, and I knew somehow I would hold on. I just had to. The knotting in my bowels started up again almost immediately. Every few minutes I'd feel a great push low in my gut, and the pressure felt unbearable. But I thought if I held it long enough the drugs she'd given me would subside. I was certain of it. Jen's whining had gone up an octave since it had started, until she was just standing next to me jiggling up and down, emitting a high-pitched "Mm-mm-mm-mm" and staring at me intensely. Finally she managed to squeak out, "It's not fair!" "No it's not," Emily responded. She sat down beside me again, betraying a bit of anger, I thought. "Look, sweets, I gave her the same laxative I gave you and me last night, and obviously it's hitting her hard. You've gotta give her a break here. You're the only toilet and you're not doing your job." But I just closed my eyes and tried to ignore her. I held on. I didn't know how long it had been, or how many waves of desperation I had staved off, but at some point Jen's howling abruptly stopped. She gave a little squeak, and I opened my eyes in time to see a look of surprise on her face, and a crackling sound. She was filling her pants. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure, and the crackling sound went on. She must have shit herself for a good twenty seconds. When she was done she glared at me. "Don't think you're off the hook, toilet, there's plenty more where that came from." Jen turned around and walked off and I saw a massive bulge in her pants. She looked like she was storing a melon between her ass cheeks. Perhaps it was the sight of someone else losing control, or maybe that was just my time to go. I felt my intestines twist, and then something dropped deep inside me. I wailed wordlessly, but it was no use—I was opening, what was inside was rushing out. My pants were suddenly full of hot mush, filling my crack and resting against my taint. I struggled to stop it, but it was too late. "Oh thank goodness," Emily gasped. She dropped her pants and jumped on top of me, as Jen called after her, "Hey, it's my turn!" But Emily already had my pants undone, my cock free. She directed it inside her and started riding me. Before I knew what was happening, she was leaning back, pulling my underwear open behind her, and I felt something caressing my balls. First I thought it was her hands, but then I knew. She was shitting in my pants. It felt like a lot, at least as much as I had done. My underwear was full. "Come on, Emily, hurry up, I'm going again!" Jen cried, and I could hear the sound of her pants filling more. Emily was still riding me, and there was sudden pressure in my guts. She was coming as I lost control again, jetting more shit into my pants, and as I did that I hit some precipice and found myself coming too, ejaculating and defecating at the same time. I tried to catch my breath while Emily kept fucking my tender cock. She had a look of concentration on her face, and I realized she was going more, this time not caring about making it into my pants. It fell down my jeans and formed a small pile between my legs. By the time Emily had emptied her bladder as well, Jen was practically pushing her off of me. Her pants fell to the floor with a thud, and as she jumped on top of me my insides heaved again, pressing even more mess into my pants. Jen fumbled with my slippery penis before getting it inside of her. Then she held open my pants and contributed to the mess. She moaned demonstratively while she dirtied me: "Oh goddd that's good." Then she leaned over, working her hips, playing with my nipples with her tongue. I felt sick, and terrified, but my senses were overwhelmed with pleasure too. When I felt the next wave coming I didn't fight it, I just pushed it into my pants. And when Jen came, I came with her. And when she rested there on my chest and opened her bladder, I pissed inside her. When she kissed my chest and whispered "good toilet," it felt warm where her lips had been. **** I lost track of the days. When I was good they would wash me every once in a while, and give me new pants. The first few times this happened I treated the fresh jeans as sacred objects, refusing to soil them until Emily forced me to. First would come the drip bags, until I flooded my nice dry pants helplessly, and then would come the force feeding and the suppositories until I filled the new underwear with filth. One day they bathed me, and before putting on fresh pants Emily inserted the suppositories. "I like you, honey bunch, but you become a faulty toilet when we put new pants on you." After that I made sure to fill new pants as soon as they were put on to avoid the pain. They rode me whenever they felt like, usually at least twice a day each. By then they had stopped giving me pills, but I got hard for them anyway. Emily had said it on the first day: there was nothing I could do about it, so I may as well make it easy on myself and enjoy this part of it, at least. Right? Then, one morning, just as I had started to resign myself to being a toilet forever, it was over. There was nothing in retrospect that made that night special. No sense that they were planning something, or that they would miss me. I've tried to search my memory for an extra wistful glance, or whispered conversations outside my earshot, but I remember none. What happened was: one night, I went to sleep with Jen and Emily wet and spent, my pants full as usual, my balls as drained as my bladder. And then a stab of light woke me, and I was lying somewhere new. My wrists were free. And my legs! My first impulse was to run for freedom, but my legs were too weak to stand. Instead I managed to flip myself onto my belly and crawl. I was in an alley, I thought, and craning my neck I could see people walking by. I tried to call for help, but my mouth couldn't remember how to form words. So instead I crawled on my belly to the end of the alley, out onto the sidewalk. It must have taken me half an hour, but when I finally reached the open air, I let out a formless wail and collapsed, exhausted. I could feel my bowels release and fill my pants, and some voice in my head was whispering, no, you're not supposed to do this out here. But then another voice in my head, a louder voice, said yes, toilet, this is what you do. Here is as good as anywhere. **** The police came to visit me in the hospital to ask me questions. Emily had long since disappeared from Tinder, so they had me work with a sketch artist. They didn't seem confident they would find her or Jen. I would wake from nightmares trembling and wet, sometimes in the middle of messing myself. I had been gone so long I had to sue my landlord to reverse eviction proceedings, but even after I got home, after weeks of rehab and months of therapy, the nightmares didn't stop. Sometimes they were dreams of drowning like when Emily had held my nose shut, or of being tied and unable to move. But just as often they were dreams of falling off the bed in Emily's apartment and finding no floor beneath. I would fall and fall, the wind whipping my limbs around and untying the ropes, the gag falling away from my mouth, and always I would be falling. And when I woke up with a sore throat from screaming in my sleep, it was somehow a comfort to feel a mess in the seat of my pajamas. The alternative was falling. I didn't get a hard on for months after coming home. I had a vague tension of horniness sometimes, but try as I might I couldn't make things happen. Then one night, awakening from another dream, the piss in my pants, I let myself fill my pajama bottoms on purpose, hoping it would lull me back to sleep. To my surprise, I found myself erect then, and I ground my hips into the wet mattress until I came in my pajamas. After that, whenever I was horny I would fill my pants first. It's been nearly a year since I found myself in that alley and crawled to what I thought was safety. My unemployment is running out soon, and I haven't been to a job interview since the one I had two months ago, when I wet myself without thinking while reviewing my resume with some poor HR rep. So it's safe to say I've been ruined, I guess. I sit at home and use my pants as a toilet more often than not, and rub myself off in them like some kind of pervert. The only difference is now I don't have the two beautiful women who taught me what I am, and then didn't even say goodbye. What I'm trying to say is: Emily, Jen—if those are even your real names—if you're reading this, come find me. You must be awfully desperate by now, with no toilet around. I'm ready for you to use me.
  13. kochel428

    The Toilet

    Part 2: Drowning The light through the window was shifting to afternoon orange when I drifted back into consciousness. I shivered in my soaked clothes. Emily was fiddling with some contraption just out of my vision. "Oh darling! You're awake!" She wheeled over what looked like a hospital drip, but the bag was much bigger than usual, and the liquid inside was a pale green. "Do you like it? I made it myself." Then she slapped her face, "Oh silly me, you don't even know what this is for yet!" She produced a tube hanging from the bottom of the bag, with an odd connector at the tip, and brought it to my mouth. I felt it click into place. Then she turned the nozzle on the end of the bag and the liquid snaked through the tube and started dripping steadily into my mouth. She was practically jumping with excitement. "This way I can fill you back up again when you get empty! You're clearly running a bit low." I noticed then that my penis had finally gone limp, and I wondered what was in the bag besides water. I felt the liquid filling my mouth, but I absolutely didn't want to swallow it. Emily was busy explaining how the connector worked when she realized I wasn't drinking. She sat down next to me and gently caressed my cheek. "Oh sweetpea, you're gonna have to swallow. I mean, if you want to keep breathing anyway." She pinched my nose firmly. My body reacted without thought or reason. I tried to shake my head but couldn't, I tried desperately to breathe through her fingers, I was wetting myself again. I tried to breathe through my mouth and suddenly I was coughing fitfully, my body bucking up and down like an out of control hose. And then it was over, the connector removed from my mouth, the liquid spattering over my face and dripping onto the pillow. I kept coughing and coughing, hoarse and pathetic. "See now, that's just so complicated, and no fun for either of us," Emily scolded. "If you'll just drink like you're supposed to, there won't be any problems." She ran her fingers through my hair while I coughed out the water from my lungs. When I'd finally settled down, she dabbed the tears from my cheeks and the sweat from my forehead, and finally snapped the hose in place again. "I bet you need some water after all that, don't you?" I tried to whimper, but as the liquid drizzled into my mouth, I swallowed. It probably took an hour to go through the first bag, and when that was gone she switched it out for another one. This one was clear, though who knew what might be in it. Then there was a third bag, smaller than the others, that was filled with cold black coffee. I was growing increasingly desperate to pee, and by the time the third bag was gone I could feel my control slipping. My bladder was tired from being so full before, and as little spurts started wetting my already soaked underwear, I began to wonder: was it worth holding on? What dignity did I have left, that I stubbornly refused to use the only toilet in the apartment? By then it was clear that the bag had been spiked. My hard on was back even as I struggled to hold my bladder. Emily was delighted to see this when she pulled the covers back again, and to pass the time she climbed atop my hips and rocked absentmindedly while she played with her phone. Every once in a while she would feel a spurt of piss in my pants and she would let out a little sound, like "mm." So much of my focus was on holding my urine, that when the doorbell rang I startled and instantly poured what must have been a pint of piss into my pants. Emily jumped up excitedly and ran toward the door, saying "Oooo now you get to meet Jen!" I felt the wetness trickle down and pool under me, before gradually soaking into the mattress. The door squeaked open outside my field of view, and I heard a muffled voice in the hall saying, "I neeeed to use your toilet." Emily led a petite blond woman into the room. She was jiggling and crossing and uncrossing her legs, and there was a distinct wet patch in her crotch that seemed to be growing. "This is Jen!" Emily said, "she's my best friend in the world and we share everything. I hope you don't mind but she needs to use the toilet." She nodded at Jen's glistening jeans, "Hun you don't need to go in your pants, the toilet is right there." Jen fiddled with her jeans button for a moment, but as the wetness reached her knees she gave in and jumped on my midsection fully clothed—the jolt caused me to lose control of myself for a few seconds. Her hot pee flooded my shirt and pooled in my belly button, and she gave a relieved sigh as she emptied herself all over me. Emily watched and giggled. When she was finally done Jen made eye contact with me and smiled. "Ohh thanks so much, I needed that." Her voice was low and smooth as silk. In another context I might have thought it was sexy. Emily was clearly feeling playful. She hopped back on my crotch where she had been before, and hugged Jen from behind. She started rocking again and whispered to Jen, "if you thought that felt good you should try him out down here." I was quivering with desperation, despite all my leaks. There was a low ache in my bladder, and the weight of the two women finally broke me. I peed full force into my jeans. In a fit a laughter they both jumped off of me and watched the spreading wetness on my pants. "Here here, give him a try!" Emily shouted, and she unzipped my jeans and freed my cock while Jen shimmied off her tight jeans. I struggled to regain control, but by the time Jen had mounted me, naked from the waist down, I was still peeing in an arc onto the sheets to my left. Jen grabbed my dripping penis and worked it into her pussy. I had finally stopped peeing, but my bladder was so tired that every thrust caused a spurt to seep out into her. Emily stripped down naked and joined Jen on top of me, sitting on my belly facing her friend. She was bigger and taller than Jen, so all I could see was her back and butt, and her long hair tumbling down. I could feel hands reaching crotches, playing with clits, but I couldn't tell whose was whose. I spurted piss rhythmically while they rocked together. Jen came, and then Emily came, and then I came too, despite myself. Then they switched places and did it again. I closed my eyes and let it happen. Let my body come, because I couldn't stop it. I don't know how many times I did it, or how much time passed. They kept changing positions. At one point Emily was going down on Jen, who was lying on my stomach crosswise. At one point Emily was fucking me slowly while Jen perched on my mouth and pissed in it. I swallowed dutifully—what else could I do? When it was all over Jen was lying on top of me. With my cock inside her, her head only came up to my chest. She rose and fell with my breath and seemed to sleep. It was almost sweet. Emily tiptoed around the bed and re-attached the drinking tube, before crawling back in the soaked bed to cuddle up against me. She whispered in my ear how good I was, how she wanted to keep me. I felt ill hearing that, but I couldn't change it anyway, so I let myself be comforted by it. The two women drifted off to sleep together, and I struggled to stay awake to keep from drowning as the tube dripped liquid in my mouth. When the bag was finally depleted I dozed too, the naked bodies around me warm and wet. I started awake realizing that I was peeing again inside Jen, and then she stirred too. "Good toilet," she murmured, and kissed my chest. She wriggled slightly and then released her bladder as well, and our pee mingled and soaked into the bed.
  14. kochel428

    The Toilet

    Author's note: I've written something pretty sick this time. I should include a trigger warning for rape, and a disclaimer that this is NOT how any of this would go down in real life. It's a fantasy, and no one should ever have this happen to them in real life. That said, if my girlfriend wanted to pretend to be Emily here for a day, I'd be down. I've written this all at once, but I'm publishing it here in three segments just because it's looong. The first two contain copious amounts of sex and wetting, and the third contains messing. I feel like wetting-only fetishists will still enjoy the first two parts even without getting the resolution. Part One: Emily You're going to be scared for me, I'm sure. But look, here I am! I went through an ordeal and I lived to tell the tale. And in truth I got lucky, I think. It could have been worse. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm here to tell you about a really, really bad date. Emily's profile was generic enough that I had forgotten I'd swiped right when the match notification popped up on my screen. But there she was, pretty in a girl next door sort of way—long straight brown hair and a sweet round face. Not particularly glamorous, but you could say she was my type. Her description was something like "Just looking for a fellow weirdo to nerd it up with me, without talking about what nerdy weirdos we are all the time." I sent her a message. Chatting was easy. She had watched Deep Space Nine and read all the Game of Thrones books. Her politics were indistinct but seemed to lean liberal, and she had a penchant for clever wordplay. We agreed to meet up on a Friday night for drinks. In truth I don't remember the date very well. Whether that's because of the trauma that came later or because she had already drugged me right at the start, I'm not sure. But I remember seeing her face, prettier than it had looked in the pictures, and her big flashy smile, and thinking she seemed kind. I was deeply wrong about that. I remember confusedly getting into a cab with her, and her apologizing to the cabbie that her boyfriend was so drunk. My mouth felt slow and stupid, unable to form words. I tried to say I wasn't her boyfriend but no words came out. My arms were heavy. I woke up vaguely when we were en route, and dumbly observed that I was peeing my pants. "Oh honey," she whispered, her hot breath in my ear, "you're doing just fine, don't worry about that." Somehow I was in her bed, and inside her, enveloped in warm sheets, my wet pants around my knees, Emily riding on top of me. I remember her moans, and that she squirted profusely when she came. And I remember coming inside her and realizing I wasn't wearing a condom. Some time in the night I came into blurred consciousness. She was lying next to me stroking my hair gently, and a puddle was growing under me. It took me a while to realize it was coming from me, and that my pants had been pulled back up. She was whispering to me over and over, "Such a small bladder, and a nice sized dick. Baby it's ok, you're gonna be perfect. Perfect. Such a small bladder..." **** First I was aware that it was light outside, and then that I had something in my mouth. Then I felt that I was lying under a warm, heavy comforter, and that I was soaking wet. Then I realized I couldn't move. The ropes were tied expertly, bending and spreading my knees, keeping me from rotating my body side to side. My arms were tied spread-eagle, and I had a loop around my neck that was tied off in multiple places, keeping my upper torso from moving far at all. Whatever was in my mouth was holding it open without blocking the flow of air. I couldn't see it but I imagined it was a sort of plastic ring, held in place by straps that went around behind my head. I had a raging hard on, despite not being turned on in the least, and my bladder felt full to the breaking point. That was when I started screaming. It sounded ridiculous, with my mouth propped open like that. I sounded inhuman, some wailing beast. But it was enough to summon Emily, who came into view after a few seconds. She sat down at the bedside and stroked my cheek. "Aw baby, shhhhh. No one can hear you here but me. No need to get yourself worked up when no one can hear you." Her voice was weirdly soothing-- nurturing, even. I tried to ask her why she did this to me, would she let me go, but it came out garbled nonsense with the gag in place. "You have questions? Honey I'm sure I would too, but you're not getting answers. Just relax and try to enjoy yourself, it'll be easier for you that way." I wasn't sure what was coming, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be enjoying myself. Emily pulled back the covers and wrinkled her nose at the stale smell. The sudden cold air snapped my bladder into focus. I had to pee worse than I could ever remember. Then she giggled. "Oh good! The little blue pill I gave you did just what it was supposed to!" She massaged my hard penis through the damp crotch of my jeans, then traveled up and gave a sharp thrust into my abdomen. I choked out a weird open-mouthed gasp and felt a big spurt of piss surge out of me, warming the front of my pants and snaking tendrils of cooling wetness down my hips to the bed. "Oh and the other pills I gave you are still working their magic!" The she climbed on top of me and straddled my hips. At first I tried to struggle, but I only succeeded at rocking my pelvis forward and back in a way that stimulated me, and apparently her too. She exhaled generously and then leaned down so her mouth was next to my ear again. "Listen to me," she moaned, "this place has a bed, and a kitchen, and even a shower, though I don't think you'll ever see that." She abruptly pulled back and grabbed my hair, hard. Her face leaned in so our noses were almost touching. Her voice became cold. "But there's no toilet here. Except for you. You're the toilet in this place, and the sooner you understand that the better it will beeee..." She trailed off, and her expression shifted from dominance to bliss—her eyes fluttered, her lips parted. I felt her piss spreading over my crotch, on my legs, pooling under my butt. She was completely emptying an apparently very full bladder. All that wetness and I felt my control starting to slip. If only I could change positions, or even hold myself, I was so desperate. At some point I felt my body push, and then I was peeing along with her, a good 30 second stream. Emily gasped with delight when she felt what I was doing. "Yes! You're getting it! Oh good job, oh you're doing so well!" She was rubbing her clit on my crotch and suddenly she shuddered in orgasm, spurting again a flush of hot liquid. She sat up then and unbuttoned my jeans. "We can't let a good erection like this go to waste," she murmured. She sprung it free, and a sudden spurt from it sprayed out and seemed to tickle her vagina. She laughed and guided me inside of her. I didn't want any of this, but the feeling was overwhelming, the heat of her of wet pussy, my bladder full and pressing urgently still. I was coming then, what felt like endless spurts of semen filling her and then squishing out of her and down the shaft of my penis. "Mmm did that feel good, baby?" She kept moving up and down on my cock, and I desperately wanted it to stop, but there was nothing I could do. She played with my swollen abdomen while she rocked back and forth. "You still have to go so much, why don't you just let it out?" I realized then I was hollering like a wounded animal, and she was pressing relentlessly on my bladder, and I couldn't stop it. I was peeing, and she was screaming "Fill me up! Fill me with your piss!" It ballooned inside her, and then poured out of her, making the puddle bigger, and she came again, the contractions of her pelvic floor harder than before. I hated it, but I was coming too, my dick held hostage to the viagra she had given me. I stayed hard for the next two hours while she rode me, as she came again and again. Finally, exhausted, she fell down limp beside me. I was crying, I think, but she pulled up the covers and cuddled against me as though we were lovers. She pet me. As I drifted off to sleep I heard a patter on the sheets and could feel that she had let go of her bladder as though she hadn't a care in the world.
  15. I told my new girlfriend about my wetting fetish not long after we started dating. She was totally open to it and since then we've had a number of adventures. On the other hand, I've never told anyone in real life about my messing fetish, and it just took me a long time to get up the courage to do it, even though something told me she would be fine with it. Well, once very difficult (for me) conversation later, she is once again totally open to it. I told her I probably would mostly want to be the one doing it, I'm not sure how much I'd be into seeing her do it. She said she'd be open to playing however I want, including at some point letting me fuck her with a load in my pants. I'm... floored. But she's really the best and loves me for who I am, so go figure! I've said it before and I'll say it again: be open with your partners about your fetish. Not everyone will accept it! But the ones worth keeping will.