Dimwitrolo

Hello and welcome As you can see, we're all polite and welcoming people who'd love to stop and say hi sometime! We're a well adjusted and close-knit community of lovely, warming people, and we're glad to welcome you on board. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to turn to one of the many friendly faces who'd love to give you a hand I'm afraid I don't have the video you're asking about, nor would I really know how to rip it - but I hope you find it. Once again, welcome! I hope you enjoy your stay.

I can't believe you've already forgotten the Victory position ;__;

Let's call her Luna :D

Do you like spooky stories? I do. But in the same way I like spicy food, I know that there are risks. Sometimes I get so involved in reading horror stories I manage to actually spook myself - you know the feeling? When you're worried that, at any moment, something scary's gonna happen? Well - I managed to induce that in myself tonight. I'd been up until...about 3am I think? Just reading horror stories online. A couple creepy-pastas, some urban legends, watched some horror videos - in fact I've really dived into that whole analogue horror thing. You know the type, with VCRs and old TV recordings. The video that seemed to spook me most was Local58's video, Weather Service. It's really well done - and if you like horror, I fully recommend it - the whole channel really. I'd watched it right before noticing that it was already 3am on a sunday night - right before a 9am lecture the next day. Lying here now in bed, I'm sort of realising that horror's not the best idea - especially on a rainy night. Alone. In a relatively new flat. That line - DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON. That gave me chills the second I saw it. I knew then that I might have overdone it on the horror for the night. And now...I need the loo. Before getting into bed I'd closed the curtains, and I'm a little embarassed to say I made a point of not looking at the moon again. I knew it was a full moon too, as if it needed to be any spookier. Though by this time I'm sure you wouldn't be able to see it, it's raining gently outside. Now, lying in bed and hoping I can get some amount of sleep before class and facing away from the window (Yes I know, I'm a wuss, thank you), I'm realising that I shouldn't have had so much tea. Don't tell me tea will keep me awake by the way - it doesn't. I don't know why, but it never has. Hell, too much of it makes me tired. It might be warm in bed, but I don't feel too comfortable. Not just my increasingly noticeable bladder, but mentally too. Noises are making me jump - the wind, my flatmate in the kitchen, people in the street, or that cursed railway just outside. I'd - and don't tell anyone this - I'd made a literal yelping sound when a freight train had gone past barely minutes ago, and I'd pulled the covers up just a little closer to my nose. Perhaps I should have left the light on - it's a lot scarier in the dark. There's...something ghostly by my door. Am I seeing things or...oh no, that's just my coat. I don't usually leave that there. But then I also don't usually get this spooked either. My bladder's become an issue though...It's full. Not just a bit full, but I'm lying in bed, one hand holding the blanket to my face, the other one wedged between my legs, squashed between the fabric of my PJ shorts. I'm twisting my hips under the covers, trying to make myself more comfortable, trying to deny how bad it is. I can make it to the morning, I'm sure - I just need to fall asleep. I've never wet the bed before, and I'm not going to start now. I hope. Or I should say - I've never wet the bed in my sleep. No I will not be going into detail. But...lying here right now? I know I won't be able to get to sleep. I have to use the toilet, and it's getting worse. Normally lying down makes it a bit easier. And besides, I've got to bed with a fairly full bladder a number of times. The bathroom's only outside my door anyway, and there's a spare one upstairs. One time, before I'd moved to the flat for university - back home in other words - I'd managed to make it through the whole night after going to sleep with a decently full bladder. I'd woke up the next morning - I think because of how bad I had to pee, because it was earlier than I usually wake up - then tried making it to the toilet. After, you know, spending a good ten minutes on twitter. I did have to get out of bed because of how bad it was...but then my brother had been in the shower, we didn't have a second bathroom...I panicked, went back into my room. And then by the time he'd got out, I didn't need to use the toilet any more. Instead I needed to use the washing machine and some carpet cleaner. I...really should get up and pee. I can feel the solid lump of bladder with my wrist - I'm having to be careful how I hold myself. My hand is pushed into my body with my arm at an awkward angle cause if I bash it against my belly - Ow! Yeah, like that - I know it's just gonna get worse. And...it's getting worse. Every minute, it gets worse. The pressure inside, like a whole ocean being held back by a shaky dam. The bathroom's only out side, like I say, but... I can't get out of bed! I can't - I'm...spooked. Too scared. Don't laugh! Every noise is putting me on edge, my eyes are darting around, trying to find the source each time. After the initial jump, I can usually tell what it was - maybe the drier in the kitchen (I don't know who does laundry at 3am. Strike that. I have done and will probably do so again), or the outside world, or...that one's another train. You should hear it with the window open... I did try getting out of bed. I'd slid one leg out from the covers...only to retract it when I heard some other noise. And my leg got cold. Also...because I was too scared to put it on the floor. What if the boogyman grabbed it!? Yeah - I know there won't really be one...but my mind keeps going 'but what if there is? Or if there's someone in the hallway? Or - worst of all - what if there are spiders!' Just the thought makes me screw my eyes up and snuggle down deeper into the covers...but once I get still again all I can feel is my bladder. Well, that and scared. But...mostly my bladder now, I have to be honest. There's no way I'll be getting to sleep moving around like this - my legs are writhing under the covers in a pedalling like I'm on some desperate unicycle. I can't bring my legs up too high though - the pressure just gets worse. I'm starting to hurt my hand from the pressure exerted by each thigh, pushing my fingers inward. I tried putting my hand in a fist, but it doesn't hold as well - you know? No, right now I need all my fingers on the front line...cause I think I'm gonna lose this battle. It's really starting to get to be too much though...I can feel sweat beads forming on my head, and I can hardly breath normally and...oh no. I just felt...you know those shivers you get? Like when you really have to go? Those shivers are usually my wake up call if I'm playing a game, or reading something - they mean I have mere minutes to get up and to a toilet. They mean that using the toilet will feel great - but they mean I have...minutes maybe. I let out an unintentional moan. It's too hard to hold it, I have to get up and go! Again, my leg slides from under the covers and into the cold night air. The sound of rain against the window glass is becoming increasingly loud...just like...in the movies. Oh god. I can't do it - I can't get out of bed! It's always on rainy nights that something really scary happens! My mind flashes back to the videos I'd watched earlier that day. The image of Nature's Mockery - a sort of monster from the youtube channel Gemini - flashed through my mind. The long tendrils...the unnatural movements...the noises. What if there was one outside? My leg slides back under the pillows, and it's like my bladder knew there and then that I wasn't getting up. A second shiver - something I don't often feel - something I'd felt when my brother was in the shower. It really was now or never. I can feel my bladder even now - it's like the contents are getting ready to move. I can feel it pulsing slightly...I can feel it sticking out in my belly. I know if I looked down I'd even be able to see it - but I daren't move the covers too much, in case I make myself too visible...I really need to stop watching horror before bed! It's getting too much now. The sweat is running off my forehead in beads and onto my pillow. I'm whimpering audibly, and I can hardly move my legs any more than rhythmically tensing my thighs and hoping...Oh no. The first...leak. It seeps out of me and I can feel it immediately on my fingers. The fabric of my shorts changes texture and warms up suddenly. A bead of...I don't want to admit it - A bead of urine runs down my cheek and onto the matress. I moan again, clenching the blanket with my free hand. I have to get up now, I have to get out of bed now. But...I can't. I gaze longingly at the door - worried that it could open at any second. I - OH GOD WHAT WAS THAT NOISE It...It's my flatmate going back into their room. My body ran cold the second I heard his door opening - there's no way I can get out of bed! But...If I don't... Another bead has escaped me, following the same path as the first. Again I feel it push through between my middle and index finger, coating them with a short-lived warmth that then trails onto my matress. Now I can feel the texture of the matress beneath my backside. It's infinitely harder to hold now - my body's already begun to weaken, the dam holding the river back is beginning to crack...and I can't stop breathing so loudly! Each breath comes with it's own little moan - even biting into the blanket isn't helping now. I screw my eyes up tighter than ever and prepare for the inevitable...But I won't be letting it go. No, I'll hold to the last moment. My last stand against - T-that! I hear a high-pitched squeak come out my mouth as my bladder just...tenses! It's doing it's own thing now! I-I-I didn't tell it to do that! It's - It's doing it again! Oh no, oh no no no... Hng! Something warm spurts out of me. The rain outside begins to die down a little now, but the rain inside...it's just beginning. It's just one...spurt - but it feels like so much more. My shorts immediately heat up and begin to cling to my skin between my legs. The tiny wet patch of matress feels suddenly warmer and larger...and I felt the whole spurt just go through my fingers like I was washing my hands. And then the rain stops. It falls silent, aside from my shallow and rapid breathing, accompanied by the occasional moan. Once again I can feel my bladder getting ready to pulse, and then - No! I - Stop it! It's not stopping! No no NO NO NO NONONO! Pee begins erupting out of me - erratically surging and dropping in pressure as I fight back with every inch of strength I can muster up. Without the rain I can hear the hiss, hear the trickle! I can feel the jet as it surges into my palm through the fabric of my shorts. Each breath I draw in sees the stream surge in strength, as if the air entering my lungs is pushing directly onto my bladder! I have to stop it! I have to hold it! I push my fingers against myself and strain my muscles to hold back! And...it works! The stream stops. The air falls silent again. I can feel tears lining the bottom of my eyes...and a different warm fluid coating my hand. I draw one leg up and hear my shorts squish. For a brief moment...it's fine. I'm wide awake now, eyes staring dead ahead at my door. If I get up now it won't be too bad, right? A little wet spot on my shorts, a little wet spot on the bed...and my flatmate seems to have gone quiet. The drier's still rumbling in the kitchen down the hallway, mind you. I...I think that's making it so much more unsettling. Dorcelessness? Why has that word come into my - oh. It was another video - Thalasin - striking my memory at the worst time possible...the sunken face, the fact the music had stopped in the video once the image had come up...I can't shake the feeling I'll walk into...that...outside my room. What if I opened the door and he was just stood there!? Or worse - the Loric face? That slit of a mouth... I couldn't get up now. I was too shook. At least I was safe and warm in bed...but my bladder tinged again and I knew it was about to get a whole lot warmer. What else could I do now? I knew I couldn't make it through the night (evidenced by my warm, warm fingers), but at the same time, I couldn't even bring myself to get out of bed. I have to find another solution - and quickly, before my bladder realises I'm ignoring it's warnings. I dart my eyes around the room, looking for something - anything - to use as...an emergency receptical....a toilet. Maybe I should have left a gap in the curtains - just enough to let in the moonlight in - No way! That video told me not to even look at it! Sure, I know it's fiction but right now I'm too scared to not consider the possibility that it's real! No - I strain my eyes harder and look for something. My teacup? Nah, too small - and I drink out of that. My teapot? Nah, I drink out of that too. There's...a red bull can on the floor. One of the large ones too - I've found my saviour! Ack! No! Not now! My bladder's pulsing again - I've identified a 'toilet' - just hold a second or two more! ...It's like it heard me. It stops pulsing. I open my eyes again and lock them on the can. It's just across my room, on the floor beneath my chair - don't judge, your room's probably a mess too. I just need to get up and get it. Just...gotta do that. Just get out of bed. Why...why am I not doing that? The sound of wind outside breaks the relative silence and makes me freeze up entirely - ceasing the jiggling that my whole body appears to be engaged in. The wet patch on the matress is starting to cool now too, though my clenched thighs and hand are keeping my shorts warm. My bladder seems to pick up on my sudden fear and refusal to move...and I can feel it getting ready to squeeze again. I...I know what's coming. I look over to the can longingly once more, then gently shut my eyes and take a deep breath. I'm going down fighting. The first pulse. I moan a little as my muscles begin to move of their own accord. I manage to hold it back, but I can already feel the second on the way. My eyes begin to clench tighter and I push my fingers more firmly against myself. The second pulse is coming...coming...It's here! Another moan breaks through the silence, and this time my fingers warm up once again. I can feel my inner muscles making the familiar movements that would normally occur on a plastic seat over a porcelain bowl and with intent...but right now there's no intent - only protest. And yet the muscles are still trying. The second pulse ends and I whimper again, biting onto my blanket. The third's already on it's way...I can feel it comING! I hear myself whimper - loudly this time! But more importantly - I feel a hot surge of liquid erupt through my fingers! T-this pulse isn't dying down either, in fact it's - !!!! It's getting worse! A sharp hissing breaks the silence - now continuously - as my bladder becomes it's own master and begins to empty itself with fury! It feels like a tap on full blast into my open palm, pushing pee through my fingers, through my shorts, down my thighs and...into my matress. A sort of 'eeeeeeeep' sound comes out my face as I try fruitlessly to stop the actual jet of warmth currently pushing into my palm...But it's no use now. I try to open my eyes, just in time for my back to take a humungous shiver of relief as I lose all control over my bladder. Pee is now just pouring out of me and into my bed. I can feel it's warmth coursing over my buttocks and soaking into the matress below with a very audible trickling sound. My whimpers begin to slow and become more like sighs as I let my bladder do it's thing, letting my legs and hand go limp as fresh urine washes over them. With my nose under the blanket, I can already smell the steam dispersing. It's not too strong - I'm well hydrated. Part of the problem, I suppose. I let my hand fall away from my groin and into the puddle now blossoming around my hips. The side of my shorts has soaked up pee like it was a sponge, and now I can feel it spreading upwards and soaking into my pumpkin pattern tee-shirt. Pee is cascading down my legs still, carving a consistent path behind me and over my backside - or more accurately, half of my backside. The contrast is...noticeable, to say the least. The puddle is growing fast around me, I can feel it's surface rising and spreading - first my hips were immersed, then slowly upwards and downwards. Going upwards I feel it soaking my back, reaching up higher and higher until I feel the warmth around my ribcage and elbow. The hand once holding it all back was slowly being swallowed whole as the puddle begins rising above my fingers, submerging the tips entirely. Going downward is of course my thigh, gradually soaking it further down until my knee touches the wet, warm surface. Even before it did though, I could feel the steam underneath the blanket swirling around - warming not just my sides, but my belly, my other leg, and soon my whole body below the neck. The rain picks up again and the trickling becomes less noticeable...I draw my hand out of the puddle and it joins the other, holding my blanket to my face. It - unsurprisingly - smells like pee. Which is still pouring out of my body and showing no signs of slowing down. Having a large bladder - sometimes it's a pain. Rarely, but sometimes. Right now, for example, I know that it's going to - wait, no it's already there. I can feel my hair pull ever so slightly as it begins to soak in...pee. My ginger curls take to the puddle like they were trying to drink it. I can feel beneath my shoulder - as the puddle begins to reach even that far - My usually wavy hair getting warm and losing their usual volume. I've stopped moaning by now - the shock and relief have worn off a little. The initial surge of relief had hit me like a brick on the head. The warm shiver up my back had left a fuzzy, warm feeling throughout my body. That feeling was being replaced now by a more literal warmth - though only on one side. Even having regained my senses though, I'm not going to make any effort to stop. Afterall, the matress is already...you know. Soaked. Like the person in it. The wind outside picks up again...and I can't help but feeling, even with pee still coursing out of my body, that I made the right choice. The rock that was once my bladder is soft once again, but by no means is it near empty. I open my eyes and look forward, deliberately choosing now to continue emptying my bladder. The soft trickle beneath the blankets is...surprisingly relaxing, and I'm starting to feel sleepy. Although that could be where I'm exhausted from holding in the ocean that is now soaking up into my pillow. I have to move my head up a little to keep it off my chin. The rain outside is getting stronger and stronger...and...I don't know how to explain this - it's really, really cosy. Not just the rain...the...well all of it. The relief that swamped over me, the hot puddle that's still lapping against my skin and jammies as it continues to grow in all directions. The rain outside - already a cosy thing to me usually - is just making me...so.......happy? Happy. It's....sooooooooooo nice. Wow. Warm. It's still going, a-hah...Weaker now, a little - what was that sound? Oh no...There's...not enough bed. For my puddle. It's, uh, pouring over the edge...onto the carpet. I can hear it pitter-pattering...now streaming a little. I just hope I left my shoes away from the end of the bed. I stretch out one leg - the one already in the puddle - to try and feel how far downward the puddle's gone. No use - my foot's already wet - I'm probably just making footprints on the bottom. It's...a bit gross. To think that it's pee that I'm lying in, especially because...I'm, uh...so comfy. I shouldn't feel this relaxed, right? I feel like I've had a back rub - I feel relaxed and at ease, like all the stress is melting away. Or, I suppose pouring out. A clap of thunder rips into the night silence...and I hardly even react. I simply...feel great. All the fear in my body must have escaped with the pee - because I feel at ease now. My bladder's begining to slow down now - the stream had been going directly against the fabric of my shorts (except for a break-away stream I could feel cascading against the bottom of my, er, bottom). Now it was tickling me as it poured directly onto my inner-thigh...and now it's stopped, merely trickling out of me. I can feel a lazy grin carving it's way across my face. I can't tell if my face is getting warm because I'm blushing or if there's just steam wafting over it. I...I don't really care, to be honest. The little trickle has come to an end, and now the puddle is beginning to seep into the matress, lowering the water-level. I can immediately feel the skin get colder as the pee drains away and into the matress beneath me. I let out a very, very contented sigh. I'm almost disapointed now that it's over. I relax my whole body and sink into the matress - it's fabric coming to greet my wet skin like a kiss. Heeh, a ha. Man. I pull my blanket against my breast - not my chin like before. The fear's gone and only comfort remains. Just...don't think about it being...you know, pee. Bodily waste. Gross, yeah - don't think about that. Just enjoy the warmth. Haaah... I let my still wet hand back under the blanket and it finds it's way between my legs again. I bite my lip gently and...tell my bladder to push. The warmth rushes back to greet my fingers once more for a few seconds, like a kiss goodbye from that comfy, comfy experience. My shorts wash over warm once again and I giggle. It's sooooooo comfy in this bed now...I just want to...push my fingers against my shorts. And rub...just a little. Mmm, yeah - that's....nice.... * * * I know where you think that's going. Sorry to disapoint - but I was just too comfy to carry that out. Before I'd built up any effort I found myself passed out. When I woke up my hand was inside my shorts, still damp but far colder than I remembered. What had been so cosy the night before had become quite chilly now, save where my body had been lying still and keeping the heat. The morning light that was being cast through my thin curtains was glistening against my whole body when I threw off the blanket - which hadn't escaped un-wetted either. Luckily the fear that had kept me in bed had gone now. In fact I felt a bit silly. I sat myself up, cross legged, and admired the sheer size of the wet patch I'd...semi deliberately left on my bed. It was cast almost top to bottom - over the bottom, never quite reaching beyond my pillow. My still wet hair clung to my neck and back. My shorts were clinging to my skin - my shirt too clung to one half of me like a hug that goes on too long. The smell...wasn't so bad as I expected it to be. Almost pleasant in it's mildness - yeah it's weird, shut up. At least I didn't need to pee when I woke up like most mornings. No, I was going to choose to do that this time. I don't know why I chose to go in the bed again...

Deadlines are the worst - I have this horrible habit of leaving my work to the last minute, and then having to rush through the lot. Hopefully though - I learned my lesson this time. In fact I'm sitting in a cold puddle of lessons today - let me tell you a bit about it. So - my name's Jamie, I'm 22, a girl, about five-foot three, probably a bit above average weight, brown hair to my shoulders - nothing too exciting. And I had a deadline due...Exactly 23 minutes ago. Despite the title above, I didn't miss that deadline. No - the deadline I missed was self imposed. I thought this assignment was due next month, so I hadn't really been paying attention to it until this afternoon. It was just chance that I noticed it to be honest - I was trying to check the deadline for another assignment - which is due on Friday, if you were curious. But you know how it is, right - you find that deadline that's due way earlier than expected, you get that hit of sheer absolute panic, and then you blaze through a paper. Well this afternoon I had that hit of panic (to the point I actually made a noise when I saw the date on the assignment) and decided I had to get it done. And what better fuel for writing an essay than like...eight cups of coffee. Yeah it's not good for me, but neither is failing university. And I'm paying to be at uni, I'm not gonna fail. Even if that does mean I feel like I'm not gonna be sleeping for the rest of this week. Initially it wasn't anything out the ordinary - I sat down, got my laptop set up...spent about 20 minutes watching some YouTube video about Aldi (No, I don't know what made me think it was a good use of my time), and then set about working. If anyone else here does history, then you'll know how bad the essays can get - Four-thousand words isn't even that bad compared to other essays I've had - but generally I have more than half a day to write them. Unless I do this. The first hour was the slowest, as usual. Trying to think of the question, and then trying to come up with a rough plan and find some sources that support my argument. Eventually I decided my essay was going to be about the failures of the League of Nations. So as you can imagine, I'm panicking, I'm putting down coffee like there's no tomorrow, and by the third paragraph I'm getting up to use the toilet. At this point I should probably have eased up on the coffee, but hindsight is 20/20. Instead I doubled down, hoping to get a caffeine induced surge of energy. Or a heart attack - that'd probably be reason enough to get an extension. It's hard to write about this, because...well most of it was just me drinking, writing shit down, and using the toilet - rinse and repeat. Until about 10pm. So - Like I said, deadline is today, which means technically the deadline is midnight. Which is two hours away from 10pm. P A N I C M O D E I saw the clock and my heart sort of lept - I poured my...sixth? Yeah, sixth coffee out the press. I hadn't bothered to reboil the kettle since the last one, so there was no wait between pouring and drinking half the cup. I didn't think much of it of course - I'd just got back from the toilet too, I wouldn't be needing to head back for at least an hour, right? Yeah, about that... It didn't take a whole half-hour for me to feel that coffee on the last stretch of it's journey through me, but I was a solid 700 words away from the word count. And even once I'd hit it, I had to proof read the essay, maybe cut down some words if I went over, make sure I'd got everything down that I wanted to, made sure my citations were correctly typed out...usual excitement. Important thing is, those things take time - which I had about an hour and thirty-five minutes of. Using the toilet would take...maybe 3 minutes per incident. And I didn't have 3 minutes to spare every half hour. I made the decision to hold it and kept on writing. It wasn't too bad at first. I sat myself cross legged on my computer chair, typing away and bouncing my leg up and down. I'd put on some music to distract me from the mounting pressure down below, and soon I was bouncing my knee in rhythm to the music. The kettle beside me was still warm and mostly full, and the coffee press was looking very tempting. I'm not sure what was going through my head at the time, but I found myself making another coffee. I think I might have been trying to distract myself from my increasingly full bladder. Spooning the coffee from bag to press was easy enough, a little shaky but I didn't spill any this time. I'm not sure if the shaking was caused by my bladder or the fact I had more caffeine in me than all of Starbucks. Pouring the water out the kettle though - that wasn't so easy. The water splashed out the spout and into the press, and the sound alone was like a slap to the face. Water - pouring and filling a container. The pressure from my bladder surged and I nearly dropped the kettle. I thrust a hand between my legs and managed to hold on, spilling a little water on the table in the process. I suppose I should have seen that as a bad omen - but the deadline was so close now, and I was well behind on my work. With the press filled I took to writing for another few minutes while the coffee brewed. By now my foot was bouncing non stop, my heel bashing against one of the wheels of the chair every time it came down. Oh, uh, it dawns on me I should probably tell you a bit more about my appearance...you know, given the nature of this website. That description from before probably isn't the best... Okay so - err, god I hate describing myself... Uh...Have you seen that drawing of the guys from Red Letter Media, but they're anime girls? Google it if you haven't - I look exactly like Jay from that drawing, except my eyes are green, and I've got freckles. And smaller breasts. As for my clothes, this evening I've gone for an ensemble of classy grey trackies (complete with a hole on the left leg from where I poked a hole through them with a pen), and a most excellent shirt depicting the characters from a famous comedy series. That's it - no shoes, no undies, no socks, no bra. Classic outfit for the student who hasn't left the flat in about four days. So with those grey trackies in mind... Another omen was to come to me next as I picked up the coffee press and began pouring. The sound caused my body to tense up in a way I'd not experienced before, a cross between a wince and sudden realization. My bladder sort of screamed at me all the while hot coffee was splashing into my cup, threatening to take matters into it's own hands. I managed to un-freeze myself just in time to stop from overfilling my mug. I flinched as I was doing so though, flicking a single drop of coffee onto my knee. At this point it was like the universe was warning me. My body had frozen up, my bladder had made it's intentions extremely clear, and I'd even got my trackies wet - and as you know, grey trackies go practically black the moment they get damp. And dampness soaks through the material...I didn't notice at first because of the heat from the coffee, but as I went to take a sip from the mug I could feel the spot on my knee cooling. My eyes widened - I want to mention this because I didn't expect them to. At this point, a lot of my reactions weren't really in my control any more. For example, my whole body shivered as I put the cup back on the desk and swallowed. I...well I knew what it meant. I don't often hold until I can't, but I've done it before once or twice. It's not really something I do on purpose, but we've all been there. That shiver...it's like a last minute warning. Like DEFCON 1, but for bladders. (WETCON 1?) The shiver went over my body slowly, as if being lifted up slowly from my pelvis and dragged through my ribcage and shoulders, finishing at the back of my neck with an unintentional sound of 'uwwaough' out of my mouth. I glanced at the clock on the bottom right of my screen. Ten fourty-five now. I checked my word count. ...It had gone up by about 20 words from the last time I checked...But how? I'd been writing for a solid ten minutes! How could I have...Argh! Wasn't the biggest problem I had though - the moment my brain displayed a concern for the lack of work done, my bladder very loudly announced that it's problem took priority. What to do, what to do? ...Really I should have just gone to the toilet. Instead my I found my hand lifting my cup to my lips, feeling hot coffee pour down my throat, and trying to type with my free hand. I almost feel like it was just rude to my bladder, really - I knew very well what was going on, and I knew I had to go soon. As in, I didn't have a choice - I was going to pee soon, whether I wanted to or not. As I put the mug back down, now empty (not unlike the cavity inside my head, where most people would store a brain), I looked down at myself. I almost wasn't expecting the thoughts that I came up with - let me quote them for you, they're great (/s) I'm almost embarrassed to type this out... 'Would it really be that bad?' I asked myself inside my head. Well - yes, it would be, but by now I think there was so much urine in my body it had probably entered my blood stream and was effecting my decisions. All I could think about now really was my bladder. It felt full - not as in 'gee I should pee soon' - more a feeling of 'I think my body has reached it's physical capacity for liquid'. I lifted my shirt and looked down - Have you ever seen yourself bulge before? It's...weird. It was almost like I'd gotten fat, but very specifically just below my belly button. Something stupid inside me told me to poke it - FUCK was that a bad idea. I didn't like, poke it gently either - I was so shaky and struggling to hold on my hand just kinda bounced off of it, shooting pain through my...self. I kinda...twisted my face up, bowing my whole head forwards and screwing my eyes shut, hissing air through my teeth and clamping my thighs together. What a dumb move that was - if anything was going to make me hyper aware of the pressure - it was punching myself in the bladder. I managed to control myself, but I knew I'd come as far as I could now. If I didn't get up immediately, I'd be leaking. I looked over to my door. I hadn't got up immediately, and I had a few seconds to realise my mistake. The pressure inside me - which bare in mind was enough that I couldn't stop bouncing my leg for a good fifteen minutes now - was surging. It almost felt like my bladder was rising up through my body, pushing itself upward into my lungs - which in turn pushed back down as I was breathing. I felt myself break out into a sweat - either panic or just from the sheer amount of liquid in my body - and my breathing was becoming hoarse and shallow. Each breath I drew in was pushing down on my bladder, and my only respite was to breath out - which let my bladder take up more space, only for another breath to press down on it even harder. I felt the urine inside me begin to move. It was slow and I could feel my muscles fighting to stay shut as best they could, but even still I knew they were fighting a losing fight now. I...I don't understand what was going through my head - I knew that I should be getting out the seat, I knew I should be bailing and diving to the bathroom - but do you know what my dumb ass did? Ignored it. I figured if I focused on my essay, I could ignore it a little longer. I must have been a mess to look at - I was breathing loudly through my nose, trying to stop myself taking in too much air at once. I was sweaty and gross, even managed to leave a wet patch on my sleeve from wiping my forehead. My legs were going mental beneath my desk, flipping and twisting in all directions like some odd student-pretzel. When my legs weren't flipping out, my toes were clinging onto the metal frame of the table, before my sweaty soles lost grip and my legs resumed their erratic ballet. I began typing - immediately hitting about 3 keys every time I bought my finger down and typing out some nonsense. I...growled(?) and held my finger down on the backspace - and that was my first leak. I didn't feel it come out - which was odd, I'd felt it all moving just moments ago. I think. Maybe the pressure was so intense I couldn't feel any other sensation aside from the rapid cooling of the tiny spurt of liquid that had just left my body and found a new home in my trackies. At this point I think a mix of physical pain and essay-based stress had made me entirely irrational. I say this because...as typing this up, I've noticed the empty smoothie bottle sitting in my bin. It's a large bottle with a really wide mouth. That's annoying. Doesn't matter now, I gotta clean up anyway. Yeah - spoiler warning I guess, but you saw the tags. I glanced at the clock again - it had gone forward about three minutes since I last checked. The word count hadn't moved however. I decided I'd reach the nearest hundred words before I could take a toilet break. My bladder let me type out about three. My first sensation was my torso going kinda tight and I leant forward toward my screen. I thrust a hand between my legs, clamping my thighs around my hand too. My right hand was now typing out words letter by letter. It was getting hard to read the words I was typing, so I wiped my eyes with my typing hand. Not a great idea to touch something warm and wet when you're this desperate to pee. Actually I say that, I suppose it's whole point of this website. Either way - my body felt wetness, and then my ears heard my own throat moan/whimper. ...I never know if I should type out vocalizations. I kinda went 'nuuuraaaah!', but under my breath. As the tears now coating my right hand cooled and my finger resumed typing, I felt myself losing control. It started off slowly - at first I felt a sudden warmth on my skin beneath my trackies. This warmth seemed to pulsate, coinciding perfectly with my breathing; Every time I drew in a breath, I could feel another tiny surge of heat. I'd managed to dismiss it until I felt something trickling between my buttocks, and something spreading over my left wrist. The one in between my legs. I didn't look away from the screen though. For some reason I decided to just...carry on working. By now every breath out was a moan, and every breath in was drawn through teeth...and accompanied by more warmth. I suppose the overwhelming sensation of pressure had begun to die down, because it wasn't long before what I felt changed. Initially - I'd been leaking, but...it just kinda felt warm. The only other thing I felt was the pressure from inside. I think that pressure had become so much I couldn't feel anything else - and here's my reason why. I sat leaking for...maybe 3 minutes? Each leak was tiny still, but it didn't feel like relief, or like the pressure was going down. It was like something was just spilling over my crotch and I really had to pee. Which I suppose is kinda true. So it came as a massive surprise to me when this next thing happened. I'd glanced down at myself - my sleeve was damp, my left hand glistened in the light of my essay, and my groin was...soaked. The trackies, as previously mentioned, had turned practically black in a very particular patch, completely surrounding my fist. I withdrew my hand and watched some pale-yellow drips fall off them. I looked back up at the screen and tried to carry on typing. The leaking hadn't stopped - in fact it had become fairly consistent. I didn't feel any relief, but I could feel a very gentle stream begin to chart a course down my thigh, slowly trickling downwards and pooling inside my trackies. I suppose I'd let enough out for the feeling of pressure to drop though. Every breath drawn in had caused a little bit more urine to escape. I bit down on my sleeve and braced myself. I felt myself draw in a rapid, harsh breath of air. At the same time, I felt my bladder contract powerfully, and I felt something hot coursing between my thighs. I heard it hissing as my body furiously began to void my bladder. But I felt relief this time. It was too much to stop now. I'd been holding so long, my muscles begged for a break, my bladder begged for relief, and my brain begged me to work on the essay. I don't know if I made the choice to do this, or if it just kinda happened, but as my bladder was squeezing and urine was jetting out of me...I gave up any resistance. The feedback was immediate. The fierce hiss quickly slowed to a grateful hiss - less powerful but very much audible. A beautiful warmth shot up my back and culminated around my neck with a sort of pleasant tickle - while another beautiful warmth was coursing down my legs. I knew it'd soak into my chair, knew it'd fuck up my carpet - but right now I just wanted to pee. I really wanted to pee - in fact I was enjoying the fact I was currently peeing so much I sighed and slumped back into my chair, grinning through the tears that streaked down my cheeks. I say I sighed, it was more giggling with glee. My entire body was tingling with the relief of letting go. I relaxed my entire body, letting my arms go limp and hang down to my sides. It took a moment before I could hear splashing - mostly because I was making too many other noises. Urine was pouring from my chair and legs, splattering the carpet below. I made no effort to try and stop it either. As the pressure had subsided and been replaced by glee, I slowly got my mind back...but I made a very conscious decision to let myself finish wetting my pants. But I still had that essay to do. Once the initial overwhelming glee wore off, I managed to sit myself up in my chair...which made a squishing noise which turned my legs to jelly. I leaned forward a little more, pushing myself into the cushion, and pushing my bladder just a little harder. I hooked my legs under my chair, catching the streams that had been splattering against my feet, and redirecting them to run down the back of my calves. I wish I could show you the squishing noise the chair was making through text - but there's no way I could do it justice. The wet squelch of the cushioned seat and my sodden trackies as my own piss soaked its way into the very innards of the cushion...I hate how much I enjoyed that bit, cause I think it's ruined my chair. Not that I cared when I was going of course - no, rather I was trying to perfectly position my feet to catch as much urine falling off the chair as possible, letting it soak over my soles, pressing my toes into the carpet for another squish. Sadly, nothing lasts forever, and despite how I had been feeling barely two minutes ago, that was going to include the fathoms of liquid that were currently spilling onto the carpet. At least now I had time to recover.. The absolute wave of relief that had knocked me sideways was now subsiding, leaving me just sitting in my chair, casually emptying my bladder as I tried to catch my breath. I felt it would be appropriate for some reason to touch the area, as if it was going to feel anything aside from really warm, damp, and satisfying...and then I squeezed the trackies. S-still warm urine surged through my fingers as I clenched the fabric, spilling onto the chair. I giggled again - I hadn't fully got my brain back at this point. What I had got however was a pair of very wobbly legs and a warm itching feeling. I hope you don't need me to spell out what that means for you. But of course - I still had that essay. And the clock. And two minutes had become three, and my word count still hadn't moved. Sometimes work has to take priority over pleasure though...but that doesn't mean I couldn't rub my thighs over each other. I didn't do that for long though, I quickly realised I was losing focus on the essay. Since then...I told myself not to drink another coffee until the first draft was done. With half an hour before midnight (and my trackies becoming icy cold) I'd finished writing - poured myself another coffee, and began proof reading. At 23:57 I submitted the essay. I had exactly as much time spare as I'd spent wetting myself. At time of writing it's 00:43. Took me about 20 minutes to type this up. As you ought to remember, I poured myself an extra coffee about an hour ago I finished drinking it about 40 minutes ago. So it makes sense that my bladder's feeling pretty damn full again. Chair's already soaked...carpet too. Wouldn't be any harm if I just... ... ... Oh yeah, that's better.