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Biku

🌟 OmoOrg VIP
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Biku last won the day on June 19

Biku had the most liked content!

About Biku

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    Flooded

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  • My pronouns are..
    he/him

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  • I'm into..
    Bathroom Control

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  1. Thanks! And yep, Senator might be caught in the whirlpool sooner or later. Stuff to come as the story unfolds.
  2. I wrote stuff

     

    1. Antispam

      For a second i thought it said Office Building

  3. Chapter 1 (Thanks to @DerivativeWings for proofreading) “Senator, we would like further comment on the recently approved Booze Fiesta program!” One of the interviewers closest to the Senator exclaimed, eclipsing many others who weren’t as lucky to get the latest scoop on the new government program. Not looking at the lucky interviewer, but instead at the cameras, as if she could see the thousands of eyes currently on her, Senator Isabel Luna replied firmly. “Our country’s alcohol market has always been a stronghold of our economy, having made up to 4% of our total revenue on prior decades. But there has been a steady decline on its consumption over the past few years. Through tax breaks, awareness, and the use of cutting-edge technology, we hope to bring our numbers up, develop the alcohol industry, and the country along with it.” She walked away, white heels clacking, past the crowd of interviewers bombarding her with questions regarding her program promoting alcoholism and the strain on elderly care that this could put on the health care system. They could not see the bigger picture anyways. A cutthroat prodigy with a blossoming politics career, she was making a gamble and was not going to be interrupted. She then got into a black Lexus that was waiting for her. “Take me home, will you?” “As you wish, Senator.” A driver, who might as well be nameless to the cold aristocrat behind him, said. Inside, while fixing her make-up, she saw the 37-year-old wavy haired brunette prodigy responsible for a new gilded age on her pocket mirror, the golden child of democracy, sharp green eyes piercing the souls of any who dared question her competence. She was going to conquer this world, and no one could stop her. As the black Lexus drove away from the crowd of journalists, another woman was looking at her own car. She had a slim frame, shoulder length blue hair, big blue eyes, a red shirt, and a black jacket with matching tight pants. The blue haired woman was staring downwards at a beige Toyota that, in contrast to the Senator’s Lexus, had seen better days. “Someone pissed on the tire again…” This was the third time this week that Irene Andalucía found her car, a joint-venture between her and her photographer, assaulted by the contents of an overflowing bladder. Senator Isabel’s press conference had been ironically positioned three blocks away from a very popular bar, business booming from the recent policy. But most of the press did not discuss what to her seemed like an obvious consequence. Public restrooms were already somewhat scarce to anyone who wasn’t a customer, and many were in a pitiful state. Not enough to be considered a public health emergency, but enough to where one would think twice about going to the restrooms. It wasn’t uncommon for a woman to rush to the toilet as soon as she got home from work, a date, shopping, from living a healthy life in general. Slightly inconvenient, but on the grand scheme of things, inoffensive. But the Booze Fiesta program meant that the average woman would be pumping herself of what was essentially a diuretic far more than usual on a city that lacked the infrastructure to accommodate for that, and the streets were already facing the consequences. Past midnight, it would not be infrequent to see women searching for somewhere private: a bush, an alley or in this case, the side of a car. After having clashed with eternal bathroom lines and rejection from local businesses that already had someone making good use of their plumbing, tons of women had no other choice. Irene, being a sturdy drinker herself, had also been the one power washing the pavement on occasion, so she couldn’t feel but feel some empathy. But empathy can start to run dry when the tires of your car get wet thanks to some greedy bimbo playing around with your city’s budget. She did not think things had to be like this, this was something that modern society should have already been under control. The government was supposed to be for the good of the nation, therefore it shouldn’t be too much to ask for public restrooms that would not be revolting or useless to half of the population. But politicians clearly didn’t care. Inside the car was a woman reclined on the seat, curly black hair falling over her black shirt, wearing a plaided red and black skirt, long legs clad with fishnet tights and crimson leather boots on the car board, playing around on her phone. “Hey Alex, someone pissed on the car tire” “Yeah, a girl came, I thought she was just going to tie her shoelaces. Next thing I know she got the whole thing soaked” “You should really clean this car...” “Eh, nothing good ol’ road dirt won’t fix. Car wash weekend’s almost there anyways.” “Whatever you say…” Irene then got inside of the car, reclining her seat, resting from the hectic wilderness of the press conference. “You got any good ones?” “Barely, place was packed. Here’s the best I could get.” Alex then showed the screen of the camera to Irene, scrolling through the three photos she took. “Two of these are just some random guy’s back” “Yeah, they were almost good shots, but there’s always some asshole shoving themselves into the frame. Last one’s decent enough.” The photo currently on the screen was one of the crowd of journalists listening to Senator Isabel on the podium, her beige shirt, along with the white blazer and skirt combo almost made it seem as if she was emitting light herself. “Ooh this one’s nice!” “It better be, I almost got my arm crushed for that one.” Alex exclaimed, an odd pride coming through her voice. Irene then reclined her seat, exhaling deeply. “So, anything spicy? Couldn’t hear the interviews with all the noise going on.” “Nope, the big channel guys were all over her. No way around them.” “Those assholes. Who even watches that shit anyways? So many resources for something that is only watched by dying old geezers.” “Old money’s hard to match, I guess.” Irene said, looking distraught. “Hey, cheer up! I got these!” She then took a can of beer and coffee out of her purse, holding it up for Irene to see. “Not a scoop but a sip! The coffee’s for me. Don’t drink and drive, y’know. Drink up!” “Thanks…” Irene stared deeply at the beer can on her hand. “Hey, all good?” “Did you know that in India 23% of girls drop out of school due to it not having any toilets?” “Ah?” “This shit’s serious, women should be able to pee in peace instead of catching whatever biological weapon might be brewing on public toilets or having some creep ogling her half naked.” Irene exclaimed, with a subtle, yet deep rooted anger. “Oh right, public urination epidemic.” “The whole Booze Fiesta nonsense isn’t making things any better either. They clearly don’t care about fixing things.” “Hey, at least the account’s doing well. You can thank yours truly, media master Alex Merelo whenever you wish!” Alex said, bringing a hand up to her chest. “Still can’t believe the Ministry of Equality rejected the campaign. I mean, one’d think advocating for women to have proper access to toilets would fall in their area, right?” “They’re all equally pigs, I tell you. The campaign account’s starting to get clout anyways.” “Getting blocked by fascists online isn’t clout, Alex.” Irene then opened the beer, gulping away at it. “I shouldn’t have to play Russian Roulette with my bladder every time I want to leave my house y’know.” Alex fidgeted slightly on her seat. “Speaking of, coffee’s kinda knocking on the door right now...had to stay awake somehow.” “Yeah, same, I had a lot waiting for that bitch to show up. My apartment’s close, let’s go. See, if this city was halfway decent, I wouldn’t have to go all the way home just to be sure I’m not going to be pissing outdoors.” “Almost there, almost there…” Both women heard those words and some jostling coming from outside the car. *psh pshhh HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS* “F-fuck yesssssssssss…” A strained voice moaned, being drowned by the sounds of liquid hitting the ground. “You hear that?” Irene and Alex leaned over the car window, finding a well-endowed blonde in a short white party dress squatting next to the door, lacy lavender panties with slightly frilled edges pulled down to her thighs and a relentless stream coming from between her legs. Her face seemed absent of any worry, only bliss coming through it. “Four times! Four times, goddamnit!” “Ah!” The straight-haired blonde jolted at the woman below her, putting her scarce balance at risk. “D-don’t you dare piss on the car paint!” Alex howled, “I’m so, so sorry, I couldn’t find a toilet and I just couldn’t take it anymore!” The blonde exclaimed, stream still going full force. “Oh god, it won’t stop-” “…Wait, have I seen you somewhere before?” “…No, you haven’t” She said, her face suddenly pale now. Irene then took a closer look at the woman in front of her, being struck with a sudden realization. “Hey, you’re Gigi Gali!” “No, I’m not!” Gigi exclaimed, hands covering her face. Alex then popped up, phone in hand. “Oh shit, as in, the fashion influencer?!” “That’d explain the fancy earrings and watch...” “Woah, we got big leagues in here! Hey, can I have your autograph? Not selling it, I swear.” “What are you s--?! F-Fine, fine, whatever. But at least let me get proper first…” Gigi said, stream still going. As Alex was caught up in the societal whirlwind of celebrity worship, Irene Andalucía felt her blood boiling civically at the sight of the overflowing woman before her eyes, having just had a realization of the golden opportunity that she had just run into. “Name’s Irene Andalucía, social rights journalist. Are you interested in an interview?”
  4. it is kinda hard to do given time is kinda scarce for me recently but id like to
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