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Aeglaf

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About Aeglaf

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  • Birthday 11/14/1993

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  1. One important thing before you start reading: English isn't my first language. Apologies for any mistakes, especially when it comes to grammar and punctuation. Chapter 1 The Republic has not been at war with anyone for more than a thousand years, thought Triscol. It was only to be expected that the thought of facing one would shake it to its core. And yet… And yet the sheer amount of debate centered around a decision as simple as the creation of a common army baffled him. The Military Creation Act had been discussed for weeks already, and the end to deliberations — “deliberations”? — wasn’t anywhere in sight. Every session of the Senate looked the same: bickering, squabbles, mutual accusations, complaints, more bickering, recriminations of treason, more squabbles, some new accusations. The Senate is proving the Separatists quite right in their conclusions, he mused, even though he would never dare to say it aloud. The ineptitude of the Republic’s decision-makers was one of Count Dooku’s chief arguments, after all. But for an officer of the Senate Security Force to agree with it could be perceived as treasonous. Not that many of the senators present wouldn’t concur wholeheartedly. Some of the representatives believed that to establish a regular army, answering to no one but the Supreme Chancellor himself, would infringe on the sovereignty of the systems constituting the Republic. It would give the government the power to enforce its will against members of the federation in a way that would be unprecedented in the history of the galaxy, they claimed. Over the Galactic Senate itself, perhaps, since equipped with firepower, the executive branch of the Republic could attempt to extend its power beyond the legal limits set upon it. Not that anyone expected such from Chancellor Palpatine… but who could say that none of his successors would ever prove treacherous enough to attempt something like that? Those supporting the Act claimed these arguments to be irrelevant: some acknowledged that they may well have some merit, others disagreed — but all of them believed that the Republic needs an army to defend its very existence. The Separatists would sooner or later form their own military, they argued, one which they would use to destroy the Republic and replace it with something new, a polity of their own design. The Republic had the right and the obligation to defend itself, they pleaded, and preventive creation of a common military force was required to do so. Of course, there were also fringe opinions. Some believed that the Separatist systems had the moral right to secede from the Republic, and that the Republic had no reason to expect any aggression from them, thus making the Military Creation Act utterly unnecessary. Others concluded that a better solution would be to strengthen local security forces — planetary armies and fleets belonging to its member systems — thus providing the Republic with necessary firepower while avoiding appearing threatening to the worlds leaving the federation. Yet another group agreed that the emerging Independent Systems were a possible threat, yet thought that creating a standing military, or even enhancing regional fleets, would only exacerbate the tensions, leading to a conflict between the two. The senator of Naboo — Triscol’s charge — was firmly in that last camp. Padmé Amidala, the rising star of galactic politics, argued that the only thing the Military Creation Act would achieve would be to provoke the secessionists into a war, giving them a reason to create their own armed forces. The former queen of Naboo was one of the staunchest opponents of the Act, making her voice heard high and wide, quickly becoming the face of the more conservative faction of the Senate. Triscol grimaced. Guarding one of the most well-known politicians in the galaxy was never a pleasant duty… and it was even less pleasant than usual when this politician happened to be one Padmé Amidala Naberrie of Naboo. The stubborn young woman was not an unpleasant person herself, no. For the most part, she was friendly with her staff, generous with stipends and dispensations. What she was beside that, unfortunately, was someone who seemed to actively dislike concerning herself with matters of her own safety. Before the Senate Security Act had passed a month before, the senator was guarded by a small detachment of Naboo Security Forces — so small, in fact, that it had consisted of precisely one soldier. Triscol had once thought it to be negligence on part of the Naboo. Perhaps the former queen was less liked on her home planet that it was commonly said, he once wondered, perhaps they didn’t care much about her safety. Or maybe they were simply incompetent, however improbable that was. He was quickly forced to change this view. When the Senate Security Force took over in all matters concerning the security of the representatives, Padmé Amidala had firmly argued against most of the measures they were intending to implement. Why would she need a detachment of starfighters accompanying her on her every journey, she contested. Why a task force of guards to follow her everywhere, and another force to protect her apartments? She never had any need of being surrounded by a small army, why would she need it now? The commander of the Security Force had even appealed to Chancellor Palpatine himself to convince the young senator to allow the officers to do their duty… not that it had mattered in the end. The senator managed to get her way and limit her security to far below what Triscol considered an acceptable level. And now, when most of the senators present were surrounded by no less than four guards, not counting their aides, the senator Amidala’s floating platform carried precisely three people: the senator herself, one of her handmaidens — a girl called Moteé — and officer Triscol Ullmak, her one and only personal guard. The senator was sitting calmly in her chair, sipping some sort of drink provided by a serving droid, her attention seemingly focused on the speech delivered by one senator Mon Mothma of Bormea. Her elaborate gown was similar to the ones she wore during her time as a queen — Triscol had seen her once on the holonet, delivering a speech on issues between Naboo and some commerce cartel — though still somewhat less sophisticated. Her face wasn’t painted now as well, neither was her hair styled ornately, instead flowing loosely down her back. Her handmaiden, Moteé, wore an elaborate dress as well, even though much less so than the former queen’s. She didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the speech, quite the opposite: the girl appeared utterly bored. Triscol understood that; even he, having an interest in politics, hardly cared about the speeches anymore, not since they turned utterly predictable — and that was weeks ago. Give him the name of a senator, any name, Triscol would describe his views on the Act. If the girl cared little about the matter beforehand, listening to them all arguing was certainly a chore for her. Curiously enough, Moteé seemed also noticeably more restless than senator Amidala. While the senator sat almost motionless, only occasionally adjusting her position, Moteé seemed to be virtually squirming in her chair. Glancing at an empty glass on the table in front of her, Triscol didn’t have difficulty understanding why. A session of the Senate usually lasted between an hour and two hours, though they could get much shorter or much longer, depending on the topic. The floating platforms senators were using were just that — platforms, certainly not containing any utilities, much less a refresher. A senator could direct their platform to land and then go visit the fresher whenever they wanted, of course… but Amidala had yet to do that during his time with her, seemingly content to continue outwaiting the sessions. Her handmaiden seemed to be less capable of doing so, even during shorter sessions, often starting to act impatient whenever they passed the one hour mark. And this session had lasted more than three hours already. The difference between Amidala’s and her aide’s behavior was even more apparent considering how similar their looks were. Back when he started working with her, Triscol was somewhat surprised to notice that both the senator and all of her handmaidens looked very alike; it took him an embarrassing amount of time to determine that Amidala used her handmaidens not only to act as her aides but also as her doubles, whenever a situation arose that required it. Both Padmé and Moteé were brown-haired, both wore their hair long and loose, both were rather short and slim, both had brown eyes and similar facial features. Triscol supposed that it would be easy to mistake one for the other, especially if they swapped their gowns and made the handmaiden wear the more elaborate one. Unless, of course, someone were to compare their bladders, he snickered in his thoughts. As if reading his mind, one the serving droids flying around the hall approached their platform, emitting a string of beeps in binary. “Yes, we do, thank you. Caf, please,” said the senator. The machine beeped out something that sounded like an inquiry. “Yes, I prefer it in a mug,” was the answer. The serving droid moved closer to the table, extending one of its dispensers… then paused and vocalized a few disapproving noises. The senator’s mug was grabbed by one of the manipulators, quickly to be replaced by another, this one clean. The dispenser quickly started filling it with black caf, without sugar or blue milk. The machine seemed to be quite aware of Amidala’s preferences. Quite surprising, thought Triscol, considering that she’s a senator not much longer than five months. On the other hand, the senator did seem to be fond of caf, usually requesting a new cup immediately after finishing the previous one — seemingly often enough to catch the attention of the serving droids. Once the senator’s caf was finished, the droid turned towards Triscol, beeping a similar question towards him. “No, thank you,” he shook his head. “I thought most security officers liked caf,” said Amidala, turning her head towards him, her expression curious. “But I haven’t seen you ever drink it, not once.” “Most do,” Triscol confirmed. “But I don’t need caf to stay awake. And I don’t like the taste,” he added. The senator opened her mouth to answer, then turned towards Moteé and the serving droid, now hovering near the girl. The droid was making increasingly distressed noises. “No, thank you,” the handmaiden was saying, repeating herself. She sounded annoyed. “I know I requested it, but I’ve changed my mind, thank you.” The droid beeped, somehow managing to convey disappointment. “What did you request?” asked Amidala, raising an eyebrow. “Meiloorun juice. I asked for it to be added to the menu, yesterday,” said Moteé. Droid emitted a few accusing sounds. “I have tried it! I drank three glasses of it, I’m not thirsty anymore,” argued Moteé. “You’re making him sad,” said Amidala, laughing. “I don’t need to drink anything more, thank you,” said Moteé, a commanding note entering her voice. The serving droid seemed to get the message, turning and floating away. It did, however, pause a few meters away from them, turning around and vocalizing a few angry beeps in their direction, before finally moving to serve someone else at another platform. Droids were often allowed more leeway than organic personnel, the Galactic Senate was not an exception. The senator laughed again, before looking at Moteé for a moment. She seemed to notice how fidgety her handmaiden was and grasp the reason in short order. “If you wish, I can bring the platform down. Then we can all take a break…” started Amidala. “No, that won’t be necessary, my lady,” answered Moteé, glancing at Triscol. Her cheeks seemed to redden slightly. “As you wish,” said the senator, some amusement present in her voice. “For what it’s worth, I think this session will be over soon.” “Thank you,” said Moteé, still sounding annoyed. Triscol wasn’t nearly as certain as the senator was. The session would last until the Chancellor would decide that it’s time to for it to end — and Chancellor Palpatine tended to be rather unpredictable when it came to that. Still, three hours were already far above average, and the senator had more experience than Triscol when it came to such things. Thinking on that, the Chancellor himself didn’t seem to be present in the hall. His platform was parked at its pad, the man nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had some other matter to attend to… Or maybe he just went to visit the refresher, the officer thought, amused once again. Amidala had already shifted her attention back to the speaker — this time one of the Mon Calamari senators — casually sipping her caf, seemingly infinitely patient. Moteé, on the other hand, seemed to slowly run out of patience as the time passed. Ten minutes after the serving droid left she was incessantly tapping her foot on the floor in a fast rhythm. Thirty minutes, and she was sitting bend forward and moving her crossed legs right and left. Though at that point even the senator was sitting with her legs crossed, Triscol noted. One of the many reasons he didn’t like to drink caf was to avoid finding himself in a situation like theirs. Triscol started to wonder when — if the session wouldn’t end soon — Amidala would decide to bring the platform down and visit the refresher. If she hadn’t forgotten about her handmaiden, it would probably be sooner rather than later. If she had — which she well might had, considering that she seemed to be somehow paying attention to the discussion — then it would be when her own need would grow more dire. Force only known when that is going to happen, he thought. For the entire month he had worked with her, when he accompanied her all the time she was out of her apartments, he had not once seen her visit the refresher. For all her slim frame, the woman seemed to be equipped with a bladder noticeably above average. Probably a useful trait for a politician. Or she was maybe as shy as Moteé when it came to her bodily needs. The handmaiden, while less resistant to refusing the nature’s call than the senator, was usually very unwilling to openly admit her urge to relieve herself, even if she was outright desperate… like today. She often tried to catch the senator’s attention, obviously hoping for Amidala to notice her state — but she had never asked for a leave to go up front. And whenever she had noticed that Triscol was aware of her predicament, her cheeks turned red and she averted her eyes. The officer wondered whether Naboo had some sort of cultural taboo regarding these matters. He became curious what it would take for Moteé to break it. Or for the senator herself, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Triscol glanced casually at the handmaiden, watching her for a moment. The girl certainly did seem to be at the end of her tether. Rocking back and forth in her seat, she was biting her lip and seemingly not paying the slightest bit attention to anything else than keeping her pee inside her body. Her face was tense and her legs were double-crossed, her dress clinging tightly to her sweating body. The officer quickly averted his eyes, forcing himself to hope that the session would end soon, for the handmaiden’s sake. Surprisingly, it actually did. Chancellor Palpatine had seemingly returned to the hall, as his platform was slowly rising above the floor and moving towards the center of the hall. The current speaker seemed to notice that, as he paused in the middle of his speech. It took only a minute for the platform to reach its place by the ceiling. “Honored senators! Citizens of the galaxy!” the Chancellor’s voice reverberated, artificially amplified. “The issues and problems that have been discussed at this session of the Galactic Senate are of importance. They are vital to the well-being of the Republic and peace within it. In some of those matters we have achieved consensus, in others, different views battle still. The day has been trying and long for all of us. Let us continue our work tomorrow, after rest clears our minds and reconciles feuding spirits. I hereby declare this session of the Galactic Senate to be closed!” A short — if unexpectedly enthusiastic — applause sounded around the hall. The announcement was surprisingly brief, Triscol observed as their platform slowly started to float towards the ground, atypically brief for Palpatine’s style. Still, it was not his business to analyze the Supreme Chancellor’s decisions, he thought, picking up his things from the table and raising from his chair. The senator was doing the same, with the help of her handmaiden- Well, maybe without her help, Triskol corrected himself. Moteé didn’t seem interested in assisting Amidala. Instead, she was standing by the gate of the platform, her legs pressed tightly against each other, her hands on her thighs, a layer of sweat covering her face. The officer was somewhat used to seeing her when the girl was clearly needing to pee, but that… that certainly was an entirely another level. The girl didn’t look as if she was just desperate to relieve herself, she looked as if she was on the verge of wetting herself where she stood. “Well, today’s done,” said Amidala, picking up her datapad and glancing at Triskol. “Well, not exactly done, there’s still dinner with senator Bel Iblis at seven — but mostly done. At last,” she said, then sighed. The senator passed Moteé by without looking at her, then opened the gate and left the platform, directing her steps to the door of the hall. Triskol knew he ought to follow her immediately… and yet he chose to indicate for the handmaiden to go before him, feeling that she might well not have even notice Amidala leaving. A well-justified feeling, considering that he had to repeat the gesture before she had noticed it, glancing at him for a second, then quickly looking around, her face as red as a tomato. She did quickly move out of the platform, half-walking, half-running in the senator’s trail, with the officer following after them. Moteé had slowed down as she caught up to the senator, changing her half-run into a strange, fast gait composed of small steps. She kept her legs close together while walking, rubbing them against each other with every step, her hands still pressed tightly against her thighs. She wasn’t talking with either of the companions, which was quite unusual for her — most of the time, the handmaiden started chatting with the senator immediately after the Senate’s session had ended. Amidala didn’t seem to be concerned about the unusual silence, perhaps not even noticing it — she certainly did look as if she was lost in her thoughts. That, on the other hand, was increasingly common for her: with every session the Senate looking the same, the senator seemed to grow angrier with the direction the discussion seemed to be taking. She didn’t seem intent on talking with either of her companions as well, paying little attention to them, to Moteé’s presumed chagrin. Triscol wondered if she was going to break the (possible) taboo and ask the senator for a leave to visit the refresher. Or maybe she was going to try and hold it longer, until they reached Amidala’s apartments in the Senate Apartment Complex? He wondered whether she was even capable of doing the latter. And yet… and yet there was a tinge of excitement he felt at the thought of the pretty girl deciding to hold it longer, defying her bladder and her desperate need. Then the group had passed the doors to the refreshers on their way to the exit, and Moteé hadn’t said a single word about needing to visit one. She did slow down, she did turn her head in the direction of the refreshers, she did press her hands even more tightly against her thighs… but then she had walked past them, without saying anything. Clearly, Moteé did intend to suffer through thirty or more minutes of travel to the senator’s apartments. She must be amazingly determined not to be upfront about that, thought Triscol. And then a thought occurred to him: was it just because she didn’t want to mention her need to Amidala… or perhaps because she didn’t want to mention it while he was in the hearing range? “Senator Amidala,” a voice called from behind them, interrupting his musings. The senator and Triscol both turned around, Moteé noticeably slower to react. Hurrying after them was a young man, bearded, clearly breathless. “Senator Bel Iblis,” said Amidala, smiling at the man. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “I’m here merely to pass you an invitation from the Chancellor,” the man said. “He urges you to meet him in his office, as soon as convenient.” Amidala frowned. “Is it about the Military Creation Act?” she asked, though it sounded like a rhetorical question. “I haven’t got the slightest what it’s about, senator,” Bel Iblis said, shrugging. “The Chancellor has seen fit to use me in a role of an errand boy, nothing more.” “Maybe the matter is genuinely urgent,” she commented. “I’m on my way, thank you for notifying me.” “My pleasure,” Bel Iblis bowed. He stared at Moteé for a moment, his brows furrowing, before shrugging and walking away. “And so it seems our day’s not over yet,” said Amidala, sighing. “Moteé, do you know where are my-” She paused. “Moteé?” Moteé was standing with her legs crossed, her hands by her sides, still desperately digging into her thighs. Her expression was strikingly tense, beads of sweat dripping from her face and disappearing in her cleavage. She was biting her lip and seemed to be barely paying attention to anything going on around her. Amidala kept looking at the girl, her eyes widening slowly. “Oh, dear,” said Amidala, “I think I won’t require your presence at the meeting with the Chancellor. Feel free to spend your time as you wish, wait for us at the lobby,” she continued. “Of — of course, your highness,” Moteé stuttered, turning around and breaking into a run in the direction of the freshers. “By the Force!” the senator muttered under her breath, her face growing red. Have I been right about the taboo?, wondered Triscol. “Well, we ought to be on our way,” the senator said loudly, raising her head and walking in the direction of the closest turbolift. After a few steps, she paused. “Though I’m not sure your presence is required either, officer?” she half-asked, half-stated, her voice hesitant. “I have no issue with accompanying you, senator,” Triscol said plainly. “Of course not,” said the senator, blushing slightly. The journey to the topmost floor of the building took them a few minutes — the Senate Rotunda was by no means a small building, even in the titanic scale of Coruscant. The Chancellor’s office was located at the apex of the dome, directly above the Senate Chamber. The receptionist at the lobby was seemingly expecting them, as they were invited into the office without any further delay: an utterly strange thing, in Triscol’s experience. He had never before visited the Supreme Chancellor’s office; he had, however, often visited offices of various senators, accompanying numerous officials he had been charged to protect throughout his career. He and his charges were almost always required to wait at least a few minutes before being allowed to enter. It seemed to be a custom in the politics of the capital to have the visitors linger in the foyer for some time. Chancellor Palpatine either wasn’t aware of it or was consciously ignoring it. The office itself was round, with its walls painted dark red, empty of any decorations and adornments. There were only a few pieces of the furniture present: a long plasteel table in the middle of the room, a set of comfortable chairs in front of it, a single — and simple — chair behind it, in that chair — the Chancellor himself. Sheev Palpatine was not a young man by any measure. His grey hair was kept short and tidy, his beard cleanly shaven, his face lined with wrinkles. Triscol didn’t know the Chancellor very well — he had seen him a few times, some of them even up close, but he had never spent any longer amount of time in his presence. He knew him better by his reputation: that of an honest man, trustworthy, dedicated to his job, loyal to the Republic and protective of it — in a word, a more than welcome replacement for the previous Chancellor, Finis Valorum. Padmé Amidala seemed to be more familiar with the man, judging from a genuine smile she greeted him with. Not a surprise, thought Triscol, both of them hail from Naboo. Wasn’t Palpatine the sector’s senator before Amidala? “Chancellor Palpatine,” she said, nodding to him. “Senator Padmé,” the Chancellor said, raising from his seat, gesturing the senator to one of the chairs at the other side of the table. No such gesture for Triscol; the officer guessed that he was meant to remain standing. He took his place by the door of the room. “I have received grave news from Alderaan,” said Palpatine, sitting back, “A riot has happened, in front of the local liaison’s office on the planet. It is happening in this very moment, in fact.” “A riot?” echoed Amidala, sounding confused. “Proclaiming secession from the Republic,” said Palpatine gravely. “But…” started Amidala. “I wasn’t aware that there were any Separatist tendencies in any of the Core worlds.” “Neither was I, neither was I,” said Palpatine. “Senator Organa has already left for Alderaan, both to investigate the situation and to attempt to defuse the tensions. It occurred to me that you would be able to assist him in both of these tasks — if you’re willing to, of course.” “I am,” said Amidala. “I’ve visited Alderaan many times before, though more often as queen than as a senator. I’ve known both Bail Organa and Queen Breha for many years. If I can help in stopping violence from occurring, I certainly will.” “Excellent”, said Palpatine, a genuine smile appearing on his face. “If you will allow me to arrange for transportation…” “I have a J-type cruiser with me on Coruscant,” Amidala said. “I can have it ready to launch in three hours, I think.” “Three hours is too long,” said Palpatine firmly. “Not to mention that the journey would take almost twelve hours on a J-type, if my memory serves. I believe I can find something more up to the task, if you’ll allow me.” He continued scrolling on his datapad. “Supreme Chancellor, if I may…” began Triscol, stepping forward from his place by the door. “Ah! An YT-2400 freighter, Chipper, is scheduled to launch in half an hour, from the Docking Bay 84. It’s chartered by the Senate for a transport of… Tibanna gas, according to the manifest. It’s also equipped with a modified hyperdrive, allowing it to make the journey in less than eight hours. Though the conditions might not be fit for a senator, I think. If you prefer your own ship…” “The conditions won’t be an issue,” said the senator. “Time very much is.” “Senator, traveling onboard an unarmed freighter isn’t safe,” insisted Triscol. “Nonsense,” said Palpatine. “Even in these troubled times, the Core remains perfectly safe for interstellar travel.” “The Chancellor is correct,” agreed Amidala. “We’re far from any worlds controlled by the Separatists. There will be no danger to me, not while we’re in space.” “Separatists aren’t the only threat”, said Triscol. “There are also pirates and slavers. Not to mention any personal enemies who would wish you harm, senator.” “Pirate attacks are almost unheard of in this part of the galaxy,” said Amidala, a commanding tone entering her voice. “I thank you for your opinion, officer, but I’ve made my decision already.” Triscol hesitated for a moment, then nodded, moving back a few steps. “Thank you, senator,” said Palpatine, relief evident in his voice. “It’s always a pleasure to work with someone as dedicated as you are. I will communicate with the captain and ask him to wait for you.” “No need — we can make it in time, easily. Just inform him that we’ll be joining him” said Amidala, getting up from her chair. “Though we shouldn’t tarry. If that’s all, we will be on our way.” “Again, I thank you,” said Palpatine, standing up as well. “Have a pleasant journey, senator.” Triscol joined Amidala on her way out. “Half an hour might not be enough to get to the Spaceport,” he told her. “We will get there in time,” the senator said. “An airspeeder will take no more than twenty minutes. We just need to collect Moteé and we will be on our way.” They got back to the ground floor and entered the lobby, where the handmaiden was waiting for them. Her face was still noticeably redder than usual, yet her expression and posture weren’t anywhere as tense as they were before, Triscol observed. “A change of plans,” Amidala told her, “We’re going to Alderaan, our ship launches in thirty minutes.” The group left the building through the main exit, directing their steps to the airspeeder stands nearby. Author's Note Yes, the refreshers on that ship are going to be broken. But that will be in the next chapter. Which I will finish and publish Force knows when. Currently have just 600 words of it written, out of expected seven thousand. (I plan to have five chapters total, in case anyone's curious.)
  2. An amazing story, as always. I loved both The City Without a Ladies Room and The Wife Who Had to Hold It, love this one as well. (Also: it's really nice to see ounces translated to metric. As someone who is completely unfamiliar with imperial units, it's sometimes annoying when I'm in the middle of a story and then have to open a new tab and google the amount this or that character have drunk to get some understandable number.)
  3. Here you are. Dude Has a Literal Piss Explosion in His Bed.mkv
  4. @Hijshc, @amasonbo1 Two videos specifically came to my mind when you mentioned "female version of this video", so I thought to share them. They aren't necessarily precisely that, but they come quite close when it comes to the strength and abruptness of the stream. (Unless you meant specifically "bedwetting with a strong stream" - in that case these two probably aren't that interesting, since neither contains bedwetting ;). The first, "Desperate Explosion", comes from an unknown source (I'm not sure if the girl is a hired actress or an amateur) - she spends 10 minutes mostly sitting in an office chair, very desperate, before exploding on the floor with a powerful stream. (Jump to 9:50 if you aren't interested in watching desperation.) The second, "Annie Is Really Desperate to Pee", comes from power-pissing.com (or at least that website's name is displayed in the first frames) and presents a very desperate Czech girl who explodes with piss around 1:50. And when I say "explodes", I really do mean that - she has one of the most powerful streams I've ever seen, even if quite short in duration. Desperate Explosion.mkv Power Pissing - Annie Is Really Desperate to Pee.mp4
  5. I've re-encoded the video using a bit lower quality setting (CRF set to 23) and scaled it down to a bit lower resolution (1280×738 instead of 1920×1090). Now it's only a 15 MB download instead of 179 MB one. Your girlfriend is amazing - a stream of pee lasting a full minute is not a sight one sees every day. Did you measure the volume by any chance? [email protected] GF peeing in bottle (re-encoded).mp4
  6. Thank you for your advice, as well as for your positive opinion of the story (and this part goes to all users who responded in the topic ). I indeed quite rarely read long texts in English (aside for technical documentation and similar things — but these aren't exactly useful when it comes to learning grammar or just learning a language in it's “natural” form); recently I've started reading The Fellowship of the Ring in it's original English version (before that I've read only a translation) and I hope it will help my English skills develop. Just after posting this story I've started writing another one, about Arwen this time, and I will take your advice to heart when I'll finally get to editing. I believe it will be finished around the beginning of the next week (or in the middle of it, if the length of the story extends beyond my expectations), so we will have an opportunity to see if my writing skills have improved. I'm using an English thesaurus and a dictionary of English idioms this time, so I can promise there will be (at least) some more varied vocabulary.
  7. Hello! Before you start reading the story below I would like to point out that I am not a native English speaker nor a person who speaks English completely fluently. Because of that there are most certainly some language mistakes, possibly numerous, especially in the spheres of grammar and punctuation (possibly also miswordings and strange ways to describe common things). I would be grateful if you would forgive me these and even more grateful if you would point out the most glaring errors so I could learn from your feedback. Chapter 1 Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan, was standing beside the door of the chamber where her uncle — Théoden, the King of Rohan — disputed with his advisers the matters of the highest importance — the oncoming war with the East and the military expedition that was meant to be send in response to Gondor's calling for aid. She still felt the humiliation that came at her an hour ago when her uncle refused her to sit among them and take part in the deliberations. “Women are not supposed to decide about political matters” — he said warmly, but firmly, gesturing her to leave the chamber. And she left, closing the door behind her, and ordered the guards to move out of the corridor, herself staying at the door and listening to the proceedings. She would often be found like this, sitting for many hours beside the closed door of the King's chambers and attempting to follow the course of speeches voiced in the room by advisers, commanders and the most powerful of nobles. The guards at the chamber's door were always the same pair of old and honored soldiers, which knew her for many years, since she was a child, and trusted her enough to understand she had no evil intentions, so they followed her orders and kept the secret. They were indeed fully right in their judgment over her motives. Éowyn, while extraordinarily ambitious, was a patriotic and noble young lady, loyal to her country and her King, even when disagreeing with his judgment and sometimes even disobeying his direct orders. This time the matters discussed were of the highest possible, uttermost importance, and yet she was refused from taking part in the discussions! Anger tensed her beautiful face at this thought. Since she reached adulthood — which was a few years ago — she was intensively trying to take part in the political life of Rohan, but her uncle firmly restrained her ambitions, always repeating the same irritating statements about woman's rights and duties. And today he said these words in front of so many important characters of the court, and among others in front of Aragorn, a highly respected warrior who recently came to the city and was invited by the King to take part in the war preparations. Despite the short time they knew each other, Éowyn developed some deeply hidden feelings towards Aragorn, and she was even more ashamed by the fact that he saw her humiliation. The princess respected Théoden and loved him as her foster-father, but this injustice and the humiliation she experienced earlier today were so great, that her usual warm attitude towards him was now far closer to fully-grown anger. Her irritation was great enough that she didn't even notice the slight tingling in her bladder, probably a consequence of the few cups of wine she drank at her breakfast a few hours ago. Éowyn sat silently by the door for a next few hours, listening carefully to advices and arguments spoken inside. In the meantime her maid, Eila, was intensively looking for her lady. Eila was a young maid, assigned to Éowyn a few months earlier. She was a daughter of one of the less important noble houses in Rohan and her becoming a maid of the princess herself was a great privilege to her family. She and Éowyn quickly grew fond of each other, their mutual trust reaching to the point where they shared their most personal matters and felt no shame when talking about even the intimate ones. She knew about her lady's political ambitions, as well as her new found feelings for one of the warriors who came with the Mithrandir's party to Edoras, not longer than two weeks ago. Aragorn was his name, and he was given great respect by every man in the capital, including the King himself. The maid knew the princess went to the King's chambers and was sure that she was — as usual — rejected from taking part in the deliberations. She was probably sitting by the door and eavesdropping. Eila by the noon have already finished cleaning the lady's chamber, among other things taking out half full of pee, two-liter chamber pot her lady used in the early morning. The girl was used to the lady's unusual bathroom habits — Éowyn had an extraordinary bladder and she relieved herself much less often then most other women, or men for that matter. She rarely peed more often than twice or even once a day. Eila from time to time come to wonder if the princess didn't owe this skill at least in part to her long sessions of eavesdropping the King's council, when she had to sit for many hours beside the closed door, unable to leave without taking the risk of missing some important parts of the discussion. It was early afternoon right now, and the lady probably does not feel even a slightest urge to relieve herself, despite an impressive amount of wine and water she drank during her breakfast. Eila needed to find her lady to help her prepare herself to a great feast that was meant to take place at the evening. The feast was intended to be a special event preceding the war expedition to Gondor, and it was meant to be the last great joyful event before the oncoming war everyone was expecting. Her lady should be dressed appropriately and the maid had already prepared a set of dresses Éowyn should choose between to wear at the feast. But first the maid would need to find the princess, which probably would be harder task than one might have expected, because if Éowyn was indeed eavesdropping the deliberations at the door, that would mean she is at the moment in the part of the castle to which Eila, being a maid, is refused access to. Nonetheless, the girl made her way to the King's chambers, intending to wait for her lady at the door to the corridor leading to the restricted area of the castle. After a few hours of leaning against the door of her uncle's chambers, Éowyn happened to be for a moment lost in her thoughts, analyzing some of the propositions spoken by one of the King's advisers, when suddenly the door opened, which caused her to fell to the floor. The meeting obviously had ended and she didn't notice the sound of chairs being pushed back, which was a usual point when she got up and run from the door. When she raised her head she saw surprised and angry face of her uncle, and behind him were shocked as well faces of his advisers. “For a long time I have been suspecting you were using not exactly acceptable ways to obtain information access to which you were denied” — the King said with a raised voice — “but that you were lowering yourself to eavesdropping at the door?! Never!”. “I have the right to know what decisions are made when it comes to…” — Éowyn started, but her oncoming speech was immediately cut short by the King — “I will not hear to your justifications. You will never again have an occasion to overhear what I am talking in private, and the guards who were letting you doing so will be punished appropriately. You will return to your chambers, I am not willing to talk with you or see you right now.”. Éowyn rose from her place and walked away in silence. Once again she was humiliated by her uncle in front of other people! How could he be so not understanding? She compliantly walked to her chambers, but the anger she kept inside her raised to the level of pure rage. Being on her way, the princess met Eila, which accompanied her to her chambers. While dressing up in her chambers, Éowyn was so angry at her uncle, that she completely forgot to use her chamber pot, despite the noticeable need to relive herself. Chapter 2 The feast was meant to be the farewell event for the warriors leaving for the war expedition. Or at least those warriors of aristocratic origins and high social position, because ordinary folk would obviously not be allowed to dine with the King himself. Nonetheless, about a hundred men were invited to the feast. Most of them were already sitting at the great table when the princess came, some closer to the king, some far away, depending on their position in the court. Éowyn's place was roughly in the middle of the table, far from her uncle's, far from the place of the King of Rohan. What an injustice! She cared more for her country than a big bunch of nobles sitting much closer to the King, some of them commonly known to be greedy and selfish, yet she was rejected from taking part in working over Rohan's future just because of her sex. Sometimes she truly wept over the fact that she was born a woman — she knew that if she was a man, a King's nephew instead of a niece, she would have much higher position in the court and, more importantly, she would have enough power to influence decisions made about the fate of Rohan. To turn her attention away from these angry thoughts she drank some wine and chatted with people sitting beside her. Her wine was strongly diluted — servants knew she does not like to get drunk and poured into her cup “wine” that was in its essence clear water with only a small quantity of real wine to give it some flavor and color. Before she even noticed, she drank four or five full cups of it and only an uncomfortable feeling from her bladder turned her attention to the fact. She grew angry again — men could drink all the night, and when they would receive nature's call, they would just go out through the near castle gate and piss in the bushes. On the other hand, women in similar situation were forced to go their chambers and use their chamber pots, because in view of the safety reasons they weren't allowed to leave the castle after sunset. Due to the fact that living part of the castle was far away from the great hall, most of the female part of the feast tried to drink as low as they could without breaking the social convention. Princess was thankfully gifted with a quite enormous bladder, and she decided she would not be tamed by such a problem, especially that her mood needed some lightening and wine may be useful in achieving that. She drank a few cups more before her attention was driven to the talk at the far end of the table. The King and the most important men in the kingdom were discussing the matters of war again and apparently there were some quarrels about the way supplies will be delivered to the army during the expedition. The King decided they need to arrange another meeting and, after some thinking, announced that due to the importance of the matter it will take place just after the feast. Éowyn decided that she has to take part in this meeting. She will go to her uncle and convince him to let her. While getting up princess again noticed that her bladder was causing her problems. For a few minutes before the end of the feast she was unconsciously tapping her toe from time to time and she just realized that. Éowyn discretely rubbed her abdomen a little and was surprised to feel a bulge slightly above her hips. The wine she drank must have been flowing through her quite rapidly, because she felt pretty full. Though the urge, while constantly present, was not enough to make her go to her chambers, especially when she had far more important matters on her mind. She approached the King when he was getting out of the great hall and asked him for a moment in private, but he refused. “I know very well what you want to say” — he said. “I surmise you heard what I and my men were discussing during the feast and that you know we are going for a meeting. You won't be allowed there, and I will personally make sure guards won't let you anywhere near my chambers this time.”. Éowyn tried to discuss, but the King roughly cut the talk and joined other people leaving the hall. Éowyn was furious at him. She was used to think of her uncle as of very decent and just men, but his opinion of the women's place in the world made her so angry she was cursing at the King in her thoughts. He was a fool if he thought he can stop her from participating in political matters of her country. Éowyn decided she needs to find a way to get to the King's chambers. The corridor leading to them will be guarded by soldiers which she didn't knew and which would not break the King's order by allowing her entrance. Still, she may try to bribe them or in other way persuade them to let her enter the restricted area. Soldiers in King's service were usually honest, incorruptible men — but she was the King's niece and taking payment from her for disobeying orders would not exactly be a high treason and they should resist that much less than, for example, taking a bribe from any men. Or at least she hoped it would be so. And so the princess took her way to the King's chambers. Before the corridor there should have been a pair of guards, but there was only a single men. The solder seemed to be quite drunk. He have been obviously taking part in the feast and he should not be on duty, but most soldiers in the castle were more or less drunk as well, drinking wine inside or outside the great hall and celebrating together with everyone else. Those whore were sober mostly guarded the entrances of the castle. The commander of the kingsguard obviously didn't expect any danger in the middle of the castle beside the King's own niece, and even a slightly drunk guard would be able to stop a young girl. He probably didn't expect the second soldier leaving his post, for whatever reason. Éowyn recognized this soldier and have heard about his openly expressed passion for alcoholic beverages, and when she thought about this, she got an idea how to get to the corridor leading to the King's chambers. It seemed she would not need to use gold to pass beside the guard. She turned around and went back to the great hall. While being in there, she took a few bottles of wine — mostly true wine this time, strongest that was available during the feast — and got back to the guard. For her plan to succeed she would need to drink wine together with the guard, otherwise he might easily understand that her offering him a beverage was a mere trick to get him drunk enough to let her enter the King's part of the castle, so she also took a few bottles of false wine for herself. “Hello, my good men”. The guard turned his head and looked at her with slightly drunk eyes. “My lady…” — he said — “I am very sorry for that, but because of His Majesty's order… you are not allowed entrance”. “Oh, but I have no intention of entering. I just wanted to talk for a moment with such a brave — and handsome — men. It's an honor to talk with a men who devoted his life to the service of the country”. Éowyn didn't exactly lie — she truly did feel respect for any warrior, respect heightened by the fact that she knew she would never be allowed to go to a field of battle herself — although drunkenness of the men somehow diminished the respect in this exact case. Still, she made her face smile with the most beautiful of her smiles. Chapter 3 When Eila, who had just left the great hall and was looking for her lady to accompany her to their chambers, finally spotted the princess, Éowyn was sitting on a bench together with seemingly drunk soldier at her side, drinking what had to be at least third bottle of wine they drank, judging from two empty bottles standing on the floor. The maid quickly understood that Éowyn was trying to make the guard drunk enough to permit her entrance to the corridor to the King's chambers. The guard, who was sitting on a bench by the door to the corridor, was close to falling asleep and barely conscious by now. His hands were holding the princess' waist, which Éowyn seemed to accept. Eila was shocked to see what methods Éowyn was ready to use when it came to realizing her ambitions. Maid also noticed that princess' legs were unusually close together and her toe was tapping the floor. When the guard finally fall asleep, Eila approached the princess. “My lady…” — the maid started, but quickly abandoned the idea of giving the young princess a reprimand for her inappropriate behavior, because Éowyn's face have gone bright red when the princess saw Eila coming out of the shadows — the lady obviously understood that the girl was watching her for some time and felt ashamed already. “Eila, I have good reasons to do what I'm doing, and you should know that” — the princess said, suddenly crossing her legs at the end of the sentence. Eila knew she wasn't going to convince the lady to abandon her plans and didn't even intend to try to do so, but she felt slightly concerned when she saw the princess crossing her legs, because she immediately understood the reasons for it — the bottles of wine and every other drink the lady drank through the day. Usually when Éowyn was starting to give signs of a need to relieve herself her bladder was already containing a massive amount of fluid. “My lady, don't you think it would be wise to go to your chamber and use the chamber pot before you… go… to the council?” Eila dared to ask, in a last attempt to convince the princess to go to her chambers instead of taking the risk of eavesdropping the King's council again, seeing the obvious discomfort of the princess. Slightly surprisingly for the maid, Éowyn seemed to consider that proposition more seriously that Eila expected, but after a short moment of thinking she responded with strength in her voice: “My chamber is far from here, and I won't risk anyone noticing the fact that King's chambers are unguarded. If someone would notice and the guard would be changed — or the second guard would return to his post — I would stay unaware what decisions were made to save Rohan from destruction”. The impression these proud words made was slightly weakened by princess' legs shivering and her toe tapping the floor. She then walked into the corridor leading to the King's chambers. The meeting took much longer time than Éowyn was expecting. The matters discussed were of highest importance and she was listening carefully, but it was harder and harder to concentrate on them, while her attention had been drawn to another case. Her bladder was getting literally full — she could not sit still any more and had to press her hand to her crotch from time to time to keep the waters inside. Meeting stretched from one hour to two, and Éowyn was almost at her wits end. She sat with her legs double crossed, squirming while fighting a wave coming from her bladder. “It won't be long” — she convinced herself. “The meeting is almost over and it will finish soon”. Éowyn was worried about her condition. She obviously overestimated the capacity of her bladder and the strength of her sphincter and she regretted it right know. If she would fail to hold her pee inside and wet herself in here she couldn't even imagine the shame. If she would wet herself, she would leave a true lake of piss right behind the door. Her uncle and the rest of men in the room — nobles and commanders and Aragorn, who was also taking part in the meeting — would know who made it, even if she would escape to her chambers unnoticed. She would never stand such a shame. Still, she refused to leave her post in search for relief — she had to knew what will be decided in the matter of war. Éowyn gently touched her bladder and was shocked to feel how hard it was and how much it bulged from her body. She had to tightly clench her legs in reaction to her own touch and pain it caused her. The meeting stretched from two hours to three, and from three to almost four. Quite amazingly, and very fortunately for the princess, the deliberations ended before Éowyn's control over her bladder did. She heard the sound of chairs being pushed back — all the man raised from their seats and Éowyn had to raise from her crouched position, standing on shaking legs and putting a great amount of effort to regain her composure. She walked quickly through the corridor on small steps, with her hand placed in her crotch, pressing it with full force, trying to double cross her legs while staying in movement. After passing several turns of the corridor she hurriedly made her way to her chambers, getting into one of the sidewalks. Soon after she had to stop and bend forward, because of the pain her bladder was giving her. She literally felt piss pressing onto her sphincter, urging to get out of her, begging to be released. Sweat was covering her face and dropped from the tips of her golden hair from the effort she was putting into keeping her sphincter clamped shut. Suddenly, the princess heard steps behind her. She quickly straightened herself and took her hands out of her crotch, while turning around just to see that the person which was approaching her was Aragorn. He must have been also going to his chambers, located in the living part of the castle, just as Éowyn's chambers were. She hastily tried to hide her predicament from him, keeping her hands by her side and forcing a weak smile on her face. Her bladder had never been so full and she never felt urge stronger than now — and just now the man she had fallen in love with must have incidentally met her! Chapter 4 Eila walked through a corridor and spotted her lady. She was standing by the window and talking with Aragorn. Eila stopped and waited till they stop the conversation, not wanting to interfere. She noticed Éowyn's legs was shivering and posture of the king's niece was very stiff, and her behavior extremely fidgety, her legs knotted together and her toe tapping the floor constantly and in very fast rhythm. The maid was able to guess the reason for it — the lady did not use her chamber pot for full day and her bladder must have been overflowing with beverage she drank through whole day. She was obviously trying to hide her predicament from her romantic interest as much as she could, behaving with as much dignity as her tired will could force over her body. Knowing how long it have been since last relief the princess had, Eila was truly amazed at her lady's self-control. Aragorn, on the other hand, was truly surprised at Éowyn's behavior — she seemed impatient and distracted, which wasn't her usual manner. She usually maintained a rather cold, prideful and gracious behavior, and he never before saw her so hasted or so fidgety. Or, for that matter, with face fully covered in sweat. He talked with the princess for a long moment and, suddenly realizing the nature of her pain, wished her good night and got back on the way to his chamber. Eila noticed that the conversation finally ended. She came out of the corner of the corridor and approached the Lady of Rohan. Not longer than a second after the warrior got out of sight, princess' legs started shivering at alarming pace, and she immediately jammed her hands in her crotch and bended forward with a grimace of pain on her face. Shocked maid noticed that the lady's bladder was bulging through Éowyn's dress more than three inches from the rest of her body. Eila knew that her lady's bladder had quite astounding capacity — she had often seen her not showing even the slightest bit of need when Eila herself was forced to go out and relieve herself — but keeping her pee inside from the dawn to to late evening was unbelievable. Especially with all the wine the lady drank during the feast and after! “My lady, are you willing me to guide you to your chambers?” — she asked instead of questioning the princess about the decisions made by the King's council. Éowyn desperately shook her head. “My chamber is too far away” — she groaned — “I need to get out through the gate, and quick”. “But my lady, it's almost midnight, the guards won't let as out…” — Eila said hesitantly, but the princess was obviously not paying attention to her any more, hastily hobbling — almost running — through the corridor. After a few minutes of passage, during which the maid was truly concerned for Éowyn's state, they reached the guarded gate. The guards were obviously shocked seeing Éowyn in the state she was in right now. They had seen King's niece from time to time and they heard of her as a prideful and ambitious, noble young lady. Seeing this prideful woman behaving in such dishonorable manner, pee dancing on the spot like a young girl or one from the folk, was the last thing they were expecting. Sweet was visible on her face and cleavage and she was tightly clenching her fists while standing with pretzled intensively shaking legs. Eila knew that her lady was putting all her will to stop herself from holding her crotch during the conversation with the officer, and was scared at the thought that this final effort to rescue the last ditch of honor Éowyn had may lead princess to wetting herself in front of ordinary soldiers. Eila was simply unable to comprehend how her lady may be able to talk and try to persuade with the guard with her bladder stretched to it's maximum, full of warm piss begging to be released. From what Eila knew, it was more than 15 hours from the last relief to Éowyn's bladder and sphincter! Never did she think a human bladder is capable of holding such load, especially a women's bladder. The lady tried to convince the guard that she has a very important reason to leave the castle, pacing back and forth while talking — and the guard seemed to understand what reason was that — but he was obviously not willing to let the King's niece go out into the night. If something bad would happen to her, his would be the responsibility and his head would not stay together with his shoulders. Princess, her bladder throbbing with need, desperately tried to convince the guard to let her out, but he firmly refused. Tears were forming in her eyes. Eila get closer to her and whispered into her ear — “My lady, this men won't let us out of the castle. We need to get to your chambers” — and Éowyn understood it was true. She could not imagine how she would be able to walk through almost entire castle, while being in a state like this. She had an ocean in her, ocean filling her bladder and making it bulge so much that it was visible even under her loose dress. She was almost sure that if she would uncross her legs and try to walk, her pee would erupt out of her. Still, by sheer willpower, she was able to slowly follow her maid, which guided her through the labyrinth of corridors leading to their chambers. Chapter 5 After walking a little more than a hundred small steps, Éowyn was no longer able to suppress her need — she stopped moving and was keeping both of the her hands between her legs, pressing them to her crotch as hard as she could, her legs were shivering madly and sweet was pouring of her face. Due to her hands holding her crotch the dress was straining on her belly and Eila could see her lady's bladder in it's full glory, bulging a few inches from the rest of the lady's body. Éowyn's bladder was spasming harder than ever before and the princess felt it. For a moment Eila was terrified that her lady will finally succumb to the nature's calling and release contents of her bladder on the floor. “My lady! Oh, please, don't give up!” — she called. Éowyn bent forward and closed her eyes, panting. Her lips let out a loud groan. She had to fight not to wet herself right there, and was shaking with the effort she put into that fight. Slowly, she managed to straighten up and began walking towards Eila, her bladder calmed down a little, while Éowyn was carefully taking each small step. “I don't think… I can hold it longer…” — she quietly muttered with a broken voice. It was already obvious to Eila that her lady was at her very limits. Maid took Éowyn's hand and gently tried to lead her through the corridor. They walked through endless corridors of the castle, Éowyn stopping on regular basis and having to fight a heroic battle not to piss herself. Eila was full of compassion for her lady and the whole way was comforting her and convincing her she can hold it a little longer. The princess and the maid finally reached Éowyn's chambers, passing beside a pair of guards, which were truly shocked at the view of the Lady of Rohan clenching her fists in her crotch, in an obvious way trying not to pee herself. Éowyn was almost crying from the effort she put in clenching her sphincter tightly closed and the knowledge of oncoming relief was making holding the content of her bladder even harder. Just as the doors of the chamber closed behind them Eila ran for a two-liter chamber pot which was standing beneath the bed, and brought it to the princess. The lady desperately pulled her dress up and squatted over the chamber pot, almost falling to the ground. Piss immediately started gushing from Éowyn with strength Eila had never seen before. It was like her lady was trying to empty her whole bladder at the very moment she started wetting. Princess moaned loudly from the indescribable relief that came at her when she could finally let her body release so long held fluids. With her sphincter finally relaxed, there was nothing left to prevent astounding volume of hot pee from leaving her overstretched bladder. One minute worth of wetting quickly turned into two, every second filled with the incredible hissing sound of Éowyn's piss flowing out of her and splashing on the ground mixed with the woman's sighs of relief. Just after the two minute mark piss started to overflow the chamber pot. Eila couldn't believe what she was seeing. She was aware of great capacity of her lady's bladder, but what was happening right now was far beyond anything she has seen before. The second minute went without any signs of Éowyn stopping her monstrous piss — the chamber pot was full and there was an extensive puddle of piss around it — and only at the very beginning of the third minute the act seemed to slowly getting to it's end and the flow was starting to diminish. It soon turned into dribbling and finally ended. Tired Éowyn had almost overturned the chamber pot when she finally fell to the floor, in the lake of her own pee on the floor. Her panting slowed to almost normal breathing, and a week smile appeared on her face. “I believe I need a bath, my dear” — she said with an exhausted voice.
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