WaityKaty

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WaityKaty last won the day on May 7 2017

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About WaityKaty

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  1. I Rolled 1,6,6. So I need to write a story about publicly wetting myself at a party with no one that I know. In 30 minutes. Go. I lean back against the door jam and let the unfamiliar music wash over me. The clatter of unintelligible conversations and the clinking, thumping, jumble of party. The thrum of cicadas almost inaudible for the first time in weeks. I don't know anyone here. Which is good! Because if I did know anyone there is absolutely no way I could possibly go through with this. I've always wanted to. But I've never had the guts. Even now I'm not sure I do. I nervously swallow another gulp of cider. It's my fourth, i should be tipsy but I'm still so, so nervous. Not just because it's a party and I'm on my own. Not just because I'm not exactly invited to this party. But because my bladder is very, very full and I have absolutely no intention of finding the bathroom. I have done this before. But only in places where there was almost no chance anyone could see me. Late at night on a quiet street, a park with no one within fifty meters of me. But today... is different. Today I am going to wait until my bladder bursts in front of people. A lot of people. I'm wearing a black skirt that doesn't really show wetness. But it is going to be right in front of people so... my heart is pounding. I finish my cider and grab another on the way to the deck off the back of the house. I'm not going to deliberately pee on someones carpet. The music is a little quieter out here. The cicadas much louder; the ghost gums are close enough to reach out and touch. I'm dying to pee. I try not to make that too obvious as I neck half my cider. I'm always nervous about finding bathrooms in unfamiliar places and habitually leave it to the last minute even though I almost always definitely want to go before I get uncomfortable and worried about having an accident. Now I would be really worried about finding the bathroom in time. I would be able to, almost certainly, but if there was a queue I could be in trouble. But, of course, it doesn't matter. Because today I'm just going to wet myself. I look around to see if anyone is paying attention and accidentally make eye contact with a woman, around my age and not talking to anyone. To my horror she walks over to me. I'm almost pissing myself. I want to wet myself in front of people but not while I'm literally talking to someone. "Hey? The cicadas are crazy loud huh?" She starts a little small talk. I'm pretty distracted but she isn't giving up on me easily. Because she is looking right at me I feel like I need to act like I don't need to pee. Otherwise why wouldn't I be looking for the bathroom? But that makes it so much worse. To know I can't pee dance. The cicadas might be crazy loud but she looks down the instant my pee starts splattering on the decking. I just burst. I do that when I lose control. Flood. She looks back up at me all concern while I'm still going. Trying to work out if I'm drunk, or sick, or crazy. I lie quickly though my eyes are filling with very real embarrassed tears, "Oh my God... I'm so, so sorry. I thought I could wait a bit longer and." She touches my shoulder briefly and lightly while subtlety stepping to cover me from the rest of the deck. "Totally OK. Want me to call a car or something?"
  2. Often enough people want to write a story. But they can't think of a particularly good plot. Or a good way to execute a plot. Or don't have the motivation or time to commit to the hours it takes to write and edit a "proper" story. Particularly since stories can sometimes get swept off the front page here quickly enough that they get missed by a large chunk of their potential audience. But! If you have half an hour to spare you can write a quick little story with a fun writing exercise that I sometimes use. I call it Writing-On-A-Roll but it has plenty of other names, whatever. The point is you roll a die a few times, compare the results to the handy table I'll make below, then spend exactly 30 minutes working on a story that you've been given the prompts for. There are online dice rolling simulators if you don't have a physical one handy. Just google "dice roller". Then post whatever you get done in 30 minutes. You should definitely post it. The more people who do the more people will feel comfortable sharing. It doesn't have to have great structure, or be well edited, or be long. Just whatever you manage. Maybe it'll inspire you to spend a bit more time on it and make it into a standalone story, maybe it'll get your mind and motivation working on something else, maybe it'll just be a thing you did for 30 minutes one time. It's worth reading over the table first and replacing anything you really wouldn't want to write about. The point is to write about something that isn't your usual focus/interest, but not something completely unappealing. Finally, this is the honour system. You get one set of rolls and 30 minutes, play fair. 🙂 Character 1. You, exactly you. 2. An exhausted waitress 3. An irritated scientist 4. A tipsy actress 5. A bubbly young parent 6. A bossy reporter Setting 1. A small town during a thunderstorm 2. A space station during a rare astronomical event 3. A cruise ship in the middle of the ocean 4. A busy city street during a festival 5. A vehicle crossing the desert 6. A party with no one that you know Climax 1. "Just made it" 2. "Private accidental wetting" 3. "Semi-public accidental wetting" 4. "Very public accidental wetting" 5. "Private deliberate wetting" 6. "Public deliberate wetting"
  3. WaityKaty

    Has anyone here ever wet a romper?

    I don’t wear them because I’m paranoid about not being able to pee and look better in a dress but I know plenty of people who do. They are straight up a hassle and I don’t really think they are that great looking myself. But whenever anyone wears one there is a conversation about how much they suck when you have to pee. I’m fairly confident I’ll hear a wetting story one day. :p
  4. Never ever with visual stuff. Though I prefer writing anyway. Writing depends. Sex needs to be significantly more specific in tone to what I prefer to be enjoyable than Desp/Wet does.
  5. WaityKaty

    The Third Reason I Love You

    Thanks! Thanks guys :) I felt good enough to write a sweet story! That's a good thing! That's what I was going for. Definitely not a "maximum sexy" story. But maximum sweet. :) Thank you! Nah It's a one off. The idea was that the writer is doing a blog post a day for a week about seven reasons why she loves her wife. Day 3 was because Holly understands her, using the story of the time the writer wet herself. There's a little bit more to it but no one but me needs to look too deeply at it. :p I didn't write the other days because they wouldn't involve pee. :)
  6. Today is day three in my "Week of Seven Reasons That I Love You, Holly" seventh anniversary present. Holly is barely in this one. And it's super-duper embarrassing for me to tell. And not because it is mushy. So the fact that I am telling it means that I really, really love her. Please don't bring it up! Ever! ----- My first "real job", was at a recruiting firm downtown. R&K. The type that is all chrome and glass and well dressed people going to very important meetings with briefcases. It was exciting and scary and I felt very grown up to need to wear "very nice work clothes" to a job instead of a crappy fast-food uniform. It wasn't the best job and I ended up moving on after a few months but during the first week I was just so eager to please and "into it". I was twenty-one. You need to save your judgey for later in this story. I have always hated public bathrooms. Since I was a toddler. I don't like the way they smell. Or that they are never quite clean. Or the sounds. Or touching surfaces. I don't like public bathrooms. I kinda wish I was a guy just so I'd have to touch less stuff in public bathrooms. Just for that part. Not anything else about that whole package. Anyway. I don't like to use them. I mean I do and I will if I have to. But I prefer not to. And I've been blessed/trained myself to have a large and strong bladder so I don't have to all that often. Now anyone who avoids public bathrooms knows you also need to avoid drinking too much in public. However at R&K everyone drinks coffee all day. It's some sort of corporate thing I guess. But since I felt like I needed to fit in that meant I had to drink coffee all day as well. Which means I needed to use their bathrooms sometimes. Which in theory was fine. The bathrooms were chrome and glass and very, very, clean. I think they had a cleaner on staff to just go around the building and keep cleaning the bathrooms. But you don't change the habits of a lifetime in a week. So on my fourth day at R&K, even though I needed to pee, at the end of the day I just left work without going to the bathroom. I figured I could go at Holly's. She was expecting me and it was only a thirty minute bus ride. I hadn't brought an umbrella to work with me that day because the morning had looked fine. But by the evening one of those summer storms had blown in and it was pouring rain. I was soaked by the time I got to Holly's and knocked on her front door even though I had jogged the few hundred yards from the bus stop. I may have jogged because I really needed to pee. It's not easy to jog in heels. She didn't answer the door. I knocked harder. Nope... I noticed her car wasn't in the driveway. I called her mobile. Nope. Straight to voicemail. This wasn't like Holly. She was never not home when she was expecting me. I started to worry that she had been in a car accident or something. I looked for her spare key under the doormat. All the pot plants. On top of the weird columns along her narrow porch. Nope. Turns out she wisely doesn't keep a spare key outside. I thought about peeing in the backyard. But it was still daylight. And dinnertime. And I didn't want Holly's neighbors seeing some random girl squatting in her yard. So I just waited. And paced around on the porch. And waited. And walked laps of her driveway. And waited. And peed. That's right. I pissed my goddamned pants, my expensive "very nice work clothes", right there in the middle of Holly's driveway. In broad daylight. Stone cold sober. The moment I finished. Like that exact moment. Holly pulled into the street. The rain had caused an accident on the link road and she had been stuck there for an hour while they cleared it. When she got out of the car I burst into tears. Wetting your pants for the first time in fifteen years is an emotional experience. "Oh babe! I'm so, so sorry!" Holly meant for me waiting in the rain, which had actually stopped by this point, and for me being worried. I was so wet from the rain she didn't have any idea that that isn't why I was upset. "Are you OK?" She asked when I kept crying. "I peed" I whispered as she took my hand. I don't know why I told her. I totally could have got away with it. I must have been in shock or something. "Did you?" She said and led me toward her front door. "Where?" "On myself." I murmured. Shame burning the back of my throat. She stopped at looked at me for a moment while I wouldn't meet her eyes. "Oh honey... It's OK. No one else ever needs to know." And then I felt her arms around me. "At least it was raining and you were wet anyway." Then we went inside. I cleaned up. Holly poured wine. She never brought it up again, just intuitively knew it wasn't something that I'd find funny to be teased about. Anyway. Now everyone knows. It's been ten years. I'm happy to report that nothing like that has ever happened again. But this, my love, is the third reason I love you.
  7. WaityKaty

    Genuine reasons you have delayed peeing?

    Anxietyif other people are around. Specifically not wanting other people to know I need to pee in case I can’t pee when I’ve made it clear I want to. Just being an idiot if I’m alone. I literally came online to post this reply because I was just dancing around in my kitchen thinking, “I’m about to wet myself.” I didn’t fwiw but there was absolutely no reason not to go earlier.
  8. WaityKaty

    Anxiety

    Thanks! No worries 🙂 thanks for reading it! Obviously this is somewhat of a pick-and-mix autobiography rather than a straight-up retelling. So the better or worse question is interesting. Probably worse... but it’d depend on context I didn’t give. Like where actually am I when this story is taking place? I sure hope so! We’ll see though. 🙂 I defo have lighter stories in mind. I do love different!
  9. Thanks! It was a something a bit different :) And also thanks to everyone I apparently forgot to thank a couple of years ago!
  10. WaityKaty

    Have you managed to hide an accident...

    People are fairly unobservant to be honest. Also polite. Just don’t make a fuss and you are a pretty good shot of drawing minimal attention.
  11. WaityKaty

    Anxiety

    Thank you so, so much. It is so hard to explain! Obviously everyone's experience is different. But this is a compilation of some of me. ❤️ Thanks! I've been interested in the nature of cyclicity and choice for a very long time. I've played with those themes in a number of my stories here actually. Particularly 'Don't Pee Your Pants'. *** I don’t need to pee. I lie to myself desperately. It isn't working. I can't. I can't. I can't convince myself. I can't hold on. I should have got up when I still could. I need to pee. I'm going to pee. You know that moment when it goes from "I might pee my pants" to "I'm actually going to pee my pants"? It's not a good moment. It's a bad moment. I twist around in my chair and try to find a position that lets me last just a little longer. I can't think of anything but how much I need to pee. My mind is trapped in a loop that I can’t break. A loop where all I can think about is how much I need to pee. And that I'm going to wet myself. Definitely going to. I can't just get up and go to the bathroom. Partly because, honestly, I might not make it anyway. Partly... I just can't handle the whole situation. I just can't cope. Action requires energy. It requires will. It requires the tiniest bit of bravery. A single drop of bravery can dissolve a thousand fears. I have only the fears. Legions of them. Inaction... just requires me to wait. It's a negation. An acceptance. I have a lot of things. My bladder is full. It is so fucking full. I don't dare let my arms get anywhere near it for fear of bumping myself and triggering the flood. I'm certain I forgot to pee at lunch. I rage at myself inwardly. You stupid bitch Katy... God damn it you stupid fucking whore. My therapist says I shouldn't talk to myself like that. That it isn't good for me. That I need to forgive myself for tiny mistakes and lapses. Fuck her. She doesn't get it. She isn't me. No one understands me. Fuck Katy. Fuck fuck fuck. I want to claw out my eyes. I grind my thighs together. I need to pee so incredibly badly. I've never in my life needed to pee so much. I can feel my muscles fatiguing, the crushing pressure of my straining bladder compressing my pelvic floor. I can't get up. Just get up! Katy, you stupid lazy slut, just get the fuck up. Arrrrgh. I hate myself. I don't get up. I've always done this. My entire life. Freezing when I get stressed. It was never a huge thing though. Like... it was a thing. One of many things. I have a lot of things. Like not being able to eat in front of people. I don't eat in front of people because I'm scared. Scared they will judge me for what I'm eating. Or not eating. Scared they will laugh at me if I forget my lunch. Scared they will feel bad for me if I don't get to eat for some reason. And I like being hungry. It's a pain I have control over. I could always fix it. But if I just don't eat I get to carry it around with me all day. It's something that doesn't own me. Except that... obviously it does. I have a lot of things. That time I wet myself on the bus? I relive it constantly. Poring over every detail. Every decision that I fucked up. Every stupid mistake that no one else would have made. But you know what? I'm not mad I didn't pee at my friend's house. I'm mad I drank a cup of tea at her house. It would have been rude to refuse. But I should have managed somehow. What the hell is wrong with me? I know that isn't the right lesson to take from that experience. But it's the only one I'm allowed to draw. Most people don't think like that. Most people would... never even consider thinking like that. What is wrong with me? My thing about pee definitely got worse after that. After my luck ran out. Much worse. I've been taking tactical pees ever since. Going when I don't need to. Just in case. Whenever I can bring myself to. I haven't had another accident. Gone close. Several times. I've talked to my therapist about it. She says it's become a fixation. And I need to try to come up with ways to stop thinking about it. Yeah. Once I get into a loop I'm not going to stop thinking about it. I'm stuck thinking more or less the same stuff over and over. Even if it changes a bit in each iteration I'm still just thinking about peeing myself and how much I suck. I grip the hem of my skirt with my fist. I get the seam between my forefinger and middle finger and squeeze. It digs in under the little callus on my finger. It hurts. A lot. I deserve this. I'm really going to wet myself. Here in this chair. It's not like I haven't before. The final unstoppable spasm. The spreading pool. Everyone will see. Everyone will laugh. I almost want it to happen. To be over with. So I can look back on this for the rest of my life but not actually be here. Get up you horrible, stupid, dumb, and ugly, fat, and stupid, simple self hating bitch. You ruin everything you stupid, fucking cunt. Just! Get! Up! You will probably still make it if you just get up. I'm panicking. I'm sweating. My heart is exploding. My vision dances and whirls like I might be sick. My hands are shaking so hard I can't control them. My bladder is about to literally erupt. I can't remember what to do. A mini loop. I can't remember what to do. I can't remember what to do. What will I do when I pee myself? Run from the room? Sob uncontrollably? Lock myself in my bedroom and never leave the house again? Hurt myself? Kill myself? I have a lot of things. I feel myself starting to pee. *** I'm definitely done with this story now. Thanks everyone for indulging me! I hope... 'enjoyed' is the wrong word. But anyway. I pinky promise my next story will be much cheerier/sexier!
  12. WaityKaty

    Anxiety

    Thanks guys. For the good wishes. I really appreciate them. ❤️ I'm also really glad that people identified with what I was saying. I honestly wasn't sure how it was going to be received. 😕 I like to keep pushing the boundaries on what an omorashi story can be. And I definitely put a lot more of myself into this one than usual. I did do the listing loved ones thing every night from when I was 8 till I was 12. Though I wasn't worried they might die. I was scared that I would die in my sleep and that my last thought of them wouldn't have been a loving one. The pee aspect is pretty damn close to what 18-19 year old Katy might have written if she had the words. My anxiety is a fair bit better 15 years on. I've written a bit more to this story. There is probably a third part, though a part of me rather dreads it. 😛 This story is still entirely fictional and still maybe the most honest thing I've ever said in public. *** I don’t need to pee. I tell myself this firmly. I feel like I need to pee. That stinging pulsing between my legs is demanding. But it’s not true, I remind myself. I don’t need to pee. I sit up straighter in my chair and try to think about something else. Something I like thinking about. Elections. Plot-lines for role-playing games. Very occasionally this works. I’m able to distract myself and forget about the fact that I probably, but possibly don’t, need to pee. Usually it doesn’t work. Usually by this stage my mind is trapped in a loop that I can’t break. A loop where all I can think about is how much I need to pee. And that I might wet myself. Might, but probably won't. I'm not going to just get up and go to the bathroom. I might imply that that is because I don't want anyone to know I need to pee. That's not it. Not exactly. What I don't want is anyone to know I need to pee, but can't. For whatever reason. I would literally rather be uncomfortable. To risk having an accident. Then to have someone think, "Oh, Katy needs to pee but she is going to have to wait." I don't like people to think I want something I can't have. I find that humiliating. Literally worse than wetting myself. Somehow. I have a lot of things. My bladder is full. It actually is. I touch it lightly through my shirt. Casually. I'm definitely not just physically touching my bladder to see if I really need to pee. That would be hella weird. Who does that? I'm pretty sure I must have forgot to pee at lunch. No way is my bladder actually full this quickly otherwise. You stupid bitch Katy... God damn it. I remember vaguely that my therapist said I shouldn't talk to myself like that. That it isn't good for me. That I need to forgive myself for tiny mistakes and lapses. Fuck her. She doesn't get it. If I were just responsible I wouldn't be in this position. I'm such a screw up I can't even remember to pee when I'm meant to. I press my thighs together. I need to pee so bad. I can feel my muscles straining, the overwhelming pressure of my bursting bladder pressing down on my pelvic floor. I should get up. Just get up! Katy, you stupid lazy slut, just get the fuck up. I don't though. I've always done this. My entire life. Had a thing about people knowing I need to pee but can't. It was never a huge thing though. Like... it was a thing. One of many things. I have a lot of things. Like not being able to eat in front of people. And then having to make up elaborate lies for why I'm not eating when surely I must be hungry. And then worrying that maybe people will compare the lies I've told them and realize that they aren't the same lies because I don't plan ahead and have a consistent story because I'm so fucking stupid and if they work out I'm lying they'll try to find out the truth and I really, really, really don't want to have to talk about my issues with food with people because they'll look at me like I'm crazy. I have a lot of things. That time I wet myself on the bus? No one else would have done that. I was bursting when I got on the bus. And it's not like I was rushing to catch it or anything. I'd needed to pee before I left my friend's house to get on. Like badly. But I didn't want to use her bathroom. Because, like, we are friends. So am I meant to ask? Or just excuse myself and go? And what if she says I can't use her bathroom. For some reason. Maybe it is being remodeled or something... and she is... peeing in the backyard? I hear the irrationality. But then she would know I needed to pee and couldn't go. Nope. I would rather try and hold it the whole bus ride home. Even if I'm at risk of wetting myself. Most people don't have a story quite like that. But still. It isn't a big deal after you've got home and had a shower. It's not like anyone I know saw me or anything. Most people would shrug off that sort of random embarrassment if they somehow managed to get into that situation. I do not. My thing about pee definitely got worse after that. After my luck ran out. Much worse. I've been taking tactical pees ever since. Going when I don't need to. Just in case. Whenever I can bring myself to. I haven't had another accident. I've talked to my therapist about it. She says it's become a fixation. And I need to try to come up with ways to stop thinking about it. Yeah. Once I get into a loop I'm not going to stop thinking about it. I'm stuck thinking more or less the same stuff over and over. Even if it changes a bit in each iteration I'm still just thinking about peeing myself and how much I suck. I play with the hem of my skirt with my fingers. I get the seam between my forefinger and middle finger and slide it along the length of the hem for a bit. Then back. Then the first direction again. Then the other way. I have a little callus on my finger there now. Right on the first join. It kind of hurts. The good kind of hurt. But it doesn't help distract me. I really might just wet myself. Here in this chair. It's not like I haven't before. The final unstoppable spasm. The spreading pool. Would everyone see? Or are people unobservant enough that no one would notice? Or at least pretend not to notice? Until I need to get up anyway. Get up. You are just a lying little bitch who ruins things and hurts the people she loves. You ruin everything you stupid, fucking cunt. Just! Get! Up! I can feel myself starting to panic. I'm sweating buckets. My heart is pounding a blur. My vision is going all funny at the edges and the room is starting to wobble and spin. My hands are shaking so much I can't force them to stay still. My bladder is about to literally explode. I try to breathe like I'm supposed to. But I can't. What will I do if I pee myself? Run from the room? Sob uncontrollably? Lock myself in my bedroom and never leave the house again? Hurt myself? I have a lot of things. I don’t need to pee. I lie to myself desperately.
  13. WaityKaty

    Anxiety

    I'm going to just let you guys know right now I use language that some people might find offensive in this piece. It isn't gratuitous, but fair warning. There are also descriptions of mental health issues that could be upsetting. Fair warning. *** I don’t need to pee. I tell myself this firmly. I feel like I need to pee. That nervous throbbing between my legs is insistent. But it’s a liar, I remind myself. I don’t need to pee. I shift position in my chair and try to pay attention. Sometimes this works. I’m able to distract myself and forget about the fact that I might, but probably don’t, need to pee. Sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes my mind gets trapped in a loop that I can’t break. A loop where all I can think about is how much I need to pee. And that I might wet myself. The obvious thing to do would be to go to the toilet and pee. Maybe there will only be a trickle, even if moments before I went convinced I was about to lose control. I’ll have satisfied myself that I really don’t need to pee. But right now I can’t go to the bathroom. I mean, I can. No one would care. Or really notice, probably. Someone definitely could go to the bathroom. Not me though. I’d rather sit here and squirm, pointlessly not listening. Rather that then get up and have people know I need to pee. I'm wasting my time. All I'm thinking about is pee. This is not a good place to be. Your kidneys can process up to 4 cups of water per hour. I know that because I’ve memorized the Wikipedia article on kidney function. The average human bladder can hold only about 2 cups of urine. And it’s been half an hour since lunch... so maybe I do need to pee. I remind myself that I didn’t drink 4 cups of anything at lunch. I had a medium coffee and a half a bottle of water. I do the math... That’s probably two cups. So I should have an hour. Wait... Is that how it works? What if kidneys just process the whole two cups in half an hour? I want to pull out my phone and look it up. But I can’t. It isn't socially appropriate to just start googling stuff about pee right now. I'll have to wait. Did I remember to pee at lunch? Of course I did. I always do. But can I remember going to the bathroom at lunch? Maybe I didn't go. Maybe I forgot. Really? How could I possibly forget? I'm furious at myself. Katy... you ignorant fucking bitch. I tell myself I shouldn't talk to myself like that. That it isn't good for me. That I need to forgive myself for tiny mistakes and lapses. Besides... I probably didn't forget. I probably just don't remember going. Who remembers every time they go to the bathroom? This shouldn't be such a big deal. I clench my thighs. I need to pee. I can feel my muscle getting weaker, the relentless pressure of my overfull bladder pressing down on my pelvic floor. I should get up. Just get up! Katy, you stupid lazy bitch, just get the hell up. I don't though. I've kinda always done this. My whole life. Had a thing about people knowing I need to pee. Had a thing about maybe, conceivably, getting in trouble for needing to pee when I was meant to be doing other things. It was never a huge thing though. Like... it was a thing. But I have a lot of things. Like needing to say out loud to everyone I know that I love them before I go to sleep. Because otherwise they might die overnight and I didn't remember how I felt about them before they did. And then having to redo the whole thing because I might have forgotten someone. And feeling guilty about dropping my best friend from kindergarten off my list because I'm so tired from listing for an hour and a half and because she moved away five years ago and we haven't spoken since so maybe I don't love her anymore but how can I even think that because now she is going to die and so I have to start over again. I have a lot of things. It became a much bigger thing of mine a couple of years ago. It's pretty obvious why. I wet myself. On a bus. All over the seat. All over my clothes. I just couldn't wait. I probably should have got off. I guess. But then I'd have just been in the middle of the suburbs and bursting to pee. I'm not just going to go in a gutter so I guess if I had done that I'd have just wet myself in the street. Most people have a story like that. It isn't a big deal after you've got home and had a shower. It's not like anyone I know saw me or anything. Most people shrug off that sort of random embarrassment. I do not. My thing about pee definitely got worse after that. Much worse. I've been taking tactical pees ever since. Going when I don't need to. Just in case. I haven't had another accident. But I've been worried I might a few times. A day. I've been worried I might a few times a day. I've talked to my therapist about it. She says it's become a fixation. And I need to try to come up with ways to stop thinking about it. Yeah. Once I get into a loop I'm not going to stop thinking about it. I'm kinda OK about not getting into loops now. Better than I used to be. I still can't get out of them though. I play with the hem of my skirt with my fingers. I get the seam between my forefinger and middle finger and slide it along the length of the hem for a bit. Then back. Then the first direction again. Then the other way. I have a little callus on my finger there now. Right on the first join. It's kind of soothing. I still need to pee, badly... but my mind is oh so slightly quieter. I might wet myself. Here in this chair. The sudden warmth in my panties. The patter on the floor. Would everyone hear? Or is it distracting enough and loud enough that no one would notice? Or at least pretend not to notice? Until I need to get up anyway. Get up. You stupid bitch. You ruin everything you stupid, stupid cunt. Just. Get. Up. I can feel myself wanting to panic. I'm sweating. My heart is pounding. My vision is going all funny at the edges. My bladder is about to explode. I try to breathe like I'm supposed to. What will I do if I pee myself? Run from the room? Sob uncontrollably? Lock myself in my bedroom and never leave the house again? My mind skims darker possibilities but doesn't settle on them. I have a lot of things. I don’t need to pee. I tell myself this firmly. *** This story is both entirely fictional and maybe the most honest thing I've ever said in public. It isn't fun or sexy, even though it would clearly like to be; it's very Katy.
  14. WaityKaty

    Very Short Stories - A Forum Game

    (153 characters; 38 syllables, which matters more for this one) Today I took her memories; willow and straw the chattering creek and her full bladder a lost love: forgotten wet panties and grieving She feels like spite. (249 char) "I peed my pants once." He lies to her. He wants her to feel better about her little accident. She can tell he is lying. she can always tell. But she appreciates his gesture. She never realized the lie was not an exaggeration. but an abridgment. (239 char) By our eighth song I was dying but I didn't dare stop in case he never asked me to dance again. If you've ever wondered whether you can wet yourself under a long dress without it being obvious? You can't. He never asked me to dance again.
  15. WaityKaty

    I Think You Should Just Pee Your Pants

    Whelp, OK! I have two things I want to write first, so we’re still looking at a month or so. But I want no complaints if Sad Katy decides to take this story right into heartbreak town. :p