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secretomoact

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secretomoact last won the day on February 6

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  1. Hugo came home hours later, by which point River was again dying for the toilet. Having brought himself to the absolute bursting point earlier, his small bladder was tired out, his holding muscles sore and not eager to do all that again. But, he felt certain he could hold THIS piss back until the restroom was available again. That didn’t stop him from hovering over Hugo the entire time, hopping from foot to foot and muttering the word “Hurry,” under his breath over and over, though. Duncan had to go quite a bit by that point, too. His bladder was pinching at him, protesting his vow to let River take the first turn in there. Not that River waited to be TOLD that he could be first to go. The second the door cracked open, River had shoved his way through it. Duncan heard his zipper getting torn down before the thing had even shut all the way. Through the material, Duncan could make out the hissing crash of River’s desperate stream pouring out, and the fluttery moan he couldn’t help but release. Duncan crossed his legs tightly at all those noises. “Ooohhhh…” he whimpered. “You really need it too, huh?” Hugo said. “Sorry, River really should have ASKED if he could go fir—“ “I—It’s fine,” Duncan said, letting a hand drop down to his waist and grip around his dick. “I was already gonna let him go first…” “He still should have asked… I’ve been working on it, but he’s never had the greatest manners.” “It’s really okay,” Duncan said. He hopped a few times. “I— Ooooh, I need to— I— I’ve sort of noticed River can’t… Wait as long as me.” “Ah, yeah,” Hugo said. “I’d have to pull over for him pretty much any time we drove anywhere, back before… Before…” Duncan looked away. He was sure Hugo must have missed being able to go places WITH River. He didn’t know their entire history, but the way Hugo looked at River was the way a man would look at the son he was immensely proud of and loved with all his heart. It must have been soul-destroying not to get to bond with him in the same ways anymore. Duncan finally heard the toilet flush, and he bobbed up and down as the water moved its way through the pipes. ‘Ah— Hurry, River!’ He thought. He listened to River rinsing off his hands— River seldom really ‘washed’ them after a pee, just ran them under the water for a couple seconds— And, at last, all the torturous, watery noises went away and the door was open. “E—Excuse me,” Duncan mumbled, pushing past River and Hugo to take his turn. As he pulled down his pants, he heard Hugo murmuring to River; “See, that’s what YOU should have said once I’d gotten the door open for you, instead of just shoving.” Duncan sat on the toilet, exhaling breathily as his stream pattered into the water below him and his bladder finally deflated. ‘Hugo even scolds River like he’s his Dad…’ he thought. “Aw, come on, I— It was kind of hard for me to talk, you know!?” River was saying. “You didn’t have a problem telling me to ‘hurry’!” Hugo didn’t sound angry or irritated, and that made Duncan happy. He certainly didn’t think River should be in any trouble for acting that way when he was close to an accident for the second time in one day. Duncan finished peeing and pulled his pants back up. Unlike River, he DID actually wash his hands after urinating, so it took him a minute before he was back in the hallway. River had gone, but Hugo was still there. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked. Duncan nodded, and followed Hugo back into his bedroom. He felt dread rising up in him, chasing away the last of the relief still lingering after his pee. “What’s wrong?” “Er, you know how we were talking about River, uh, ‘not holding it for long’?” Hugo asked. “Yeah,” Duncan said. “There’s… No way he could have waited all day for me to get home. I’m even surprised YOU did it, I—“ “He couldn’t… Neither of us could,” Duncan said. “I… See,” Hugo said. “Um, just let me know if any part of the floor needs extra cleaning, or what I need to get washed, and—“ “We didn’t have accidents,” Duncan interrupted. “We… We went outside.” Hugo’s eyes widened. “You did?! That’s fantastic!” “Y—Yeah, I think River actually needed to go so much he didn’t totally realize what he was doing… But, it was the only place we could… Do it, so we just went out front and—“ “I’m really proud of you,” Hugo said. “Really. Just yesterday you were both terrified of opening a window, today you’re—“ “I—It was an emergency,” Duncan said. “That was all. River was— He was hurting. I— I really don’t like seeing him in pain, it brings back… Stuff.” Hugo patted him on the head. “I understand. But still, I’m proud. And you both should be proud, too.” *** The next morning, Hugo had an announcement. Since River and Duncan had left the cabin once now, Hugo thought it was time to bring them out somewhere for real. Duncan wasn’t so sure, “W—We only went just RIGHT outside our house because it was an emergency…” he said. “That’s all.” “It would be really good for you both to actually get out,” Hugo said. “We should do it soon, before you lose the nerve you built up after yesterday.” Duncan didn’t know if they’d really built up any ‘nerve’! All they’d actually done was avoid making a really huge puddle on the floor by any means necessary. “Wh—What would we do?” River asked. “I don’t… I would maybe feel safer somewhere…” Where WOULD he feel safer? Nowhere but here, he didn’t think! Outside, someone with ties to the Organization could see him and Duncan, could hurt them, could watch them and then follow them back home, and— An attack would be less likely in a place with lots of witnesses. It would also be hard to keep track of someone if it was really crowded. There was probably a confusing, winding route they could take home, which would make it tricky for anyone to trail after them… “S—Somewhere… Crowded,” River said finally. “Crowded?” Hugo asked. “Really, I thought—“ “W—Witnesses,” River explained. “I—If something… Happens.” Duncan liked the way River was thinking and started to nod. “A—And, I want us to take a really long and confusing drive home,” River added. “What?” “So, if someone tries to follow, they’d lose us!” Duncan said. “Right, River?” “Yes.” “So, that would help you both feel safer?” Hugo asked. “You’re sure?” They each nodded. “Okay…” Hugo said. “I’ll think of a good spot.” *** They decided to go to the mall and see a movie. The mall in town was always crowded since it was one of the few places to go for entertainment, and the movie they’d chosen had just been released and was the latest in a highly popular series. There would be tons of people. Hugo was hopeful he could coax them into looking at some of the stores AFTER the movie, too. But, if they wanted to go straight home, that would be fine. This was still an enormous step towards healing and being friends with the world again. They arrived at the mall, and Duncan felt… Weird. He felt scared, but there was a certain DEEPNESS to this fear. Like, ice was forming inside of his bones, crystalizing and freezing his joints together. He walked very stiffly through the parking lot, and didn’t make it more than five steps before he’d grabbed onto River and just… Held him. His hands coiled around River’s arm, and only got tighter. And River… River had been the ‘leader’ when they’d escaped from the Organization. He’d been first around every corner, first through every door… His brain turned to mush and static, only clear thought managing to squeak through; ‘Protect Duncan.’ Over and over again. Just ‘Protect Duncan.’ River would keep Duncan safe at all times. Even if it meant ignoring all of his own fear and pretending that it didn’t exist. “I—It’s okay, Duncan…” River whispered as they followed closely behind Hugo. “I’m in charge, I can handle anything bad that comes our way.” They entered the mall, and Duncan somehow managed to clutch River even harder. It actually hurt an awful lot… It didn’t help that Duncan was also hanging onto the arm that housed River’s phallo-scar, which STILL got random aches every now and then. “Okay,” Hugo said, at a volume that River thought would announce to everyone exactly where they were, but was probably barely even above a whisper. “The theater is this way… We have time, do you want to go to a store first?” Duncan tried to answer ‘no’, that he just wanted to sit in the dark theater where he thought he’d feel safer. But, that icy cold feeling in his bones was moving up higher, it coated his throat, washed over his tongue, sunk into all his jaw… And all of the sudden, the language Duncan had spoken all his life had left him. He just… He didn’t know what was happening, but he couldn’t move his mouth, couldn’t form any words, couldn’t find his voice… 
So, he just shook his head. “You sure?” Hugo asked. “River…?” “I…” River was able to talk, but his voice came out barely above a whisper. “I don’t think so… Maybe after…” “Well, okay,” Hugo decided not to push it. Not to push THEM. He found himself wishing he’d paid more attention during that one semester of psychology he’d taken decades ago in high school. How was he supposed to know back then that one day he’d be tasked with taking care of two highly traumatized people and trying to help them ease back into something that resembled normalcy? He THOUGHT he was doing the right things, he thought taking them out would, over time, help them get better. But, where was the balance? Too fast, and he’d make them panic, maybe just traumatize them further. Too slow, and they’d continue to cocoon themselves at home, becoming more and more detached from anything that wasn’t themselves, Hugo, or worlds they could only enter in books. He hoped that the speed at which he was trying to move them was correct, but they were both… He’d expected them to be scared, but they were shaking, clinging to each other… Duncan hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten here… Hugo decided to try and get him to speak. Once he’d talked once, Hugo was sure, it would be a lot easier for him to do it again! So, he’d just ask Duncan a question that couldn’t be answered with a simple yes or no. They stopped at the concessions before going to their theater. Hugo asked River and Duncan if they’d like something, and was pleased when they both nodded. “What do you want?” He asked. “You can have anything.” “F…Fruit punch…” River mumbled. Hugo nodded and, knowing how much River loved fruit punch and how much River WOULDN’T want to have to get up during the movie for anything, he got him a large size so that it would last him. “Duncan? How about you?” Duncan still hadn’t released River. He wanted to say that he would like a Cola but, just like before, something inside him wasn’t working. The gears in his jaw seemed to have spontaneously grown rusty, because it refused to unhinge and let him speak… Hugo knit his brows as Duncan remained silent. Finally, Duncan made a noise, but it didn’t make Hugo feel any better. It was a tiny squeak, almost a whimper. So small that his lips barely moved. “Duncan…? Is something—” “D—Duncan likes Cola best,” River informed. “R—Right, Duncan?” Duncan managed a tiny nod, feeling warm that River had remembered which drink was his favorite. Hugo got Duncan his Cola and handed it to him. He nervously led them both into the theater and sat down with them. River was eagerly sucking down his fruit punch, and Duncan was taking hesitant, small sips from his cup. Hugo was concerned. It was almost like Duncan suddenly COULDN’T talk for some reason. But, that didn’t make any sense! Duncan wasn’t sick! He hadn’t even gone outside where he’d be able to catch a cold! Why would he lose his voice? He’d been talking just fine that morning, too! Duncan clutched River’s hand as the previews started. River clutched back. He kept drinking his punch, having a task to focus on was calming him down somewhat. But, he was really anxious. Not just about being outside, but about Duncan… He hadn’t liked how he’d needed to speak FOR him a few minutes ago, and that little creaky sound he’d made… It all caused River to feel uneasy. River paused his drinking for a second. “I am in charge, remember?” He said. “There’s nothing I can’t handle, so just leave everything to me, and try to feel safe.” His spine chilled then, and he didn’t really understand why. 
Duncan squeezed his hand again, and River returned to his beverage. The movie began. River actually really enjoyed it. Even before the Organization, movies in an actual theater had been a rare treat for him. This one was so exciting, too. Lots of action and intrigue and things to keep him focused on things other than how scared he was and how— ‘I NEED TO PISS!’ River’s body screamed at him. Jesus fuck… He suddenly realized he’d merely been chewing on the straw in his cup for the last several minutes, all of the punch already gone and filtering through his body— A whole lot of it already asking if it could please be released now. God, he needed the toilet… He crossed his legs, his bladder cramping inside him. How much time was left in the movie? Could he hold it until— Ah, no. No way could he hold it. Now that he’d noticed it, he was stunned he hadn’t already pissed his pants. He wriggled in his seat. What should he do?! If this had been BEFORE the organization, he’d just stand up, shuffle past Hugo, and use the nearest restroom, because leaving the theater by himself wouldn’t have been terrifying. But, it WAS terrifying now. Duncan jumped when River accidentally kicked him while crossing his legs around the other way. He could tell pretty easily what was bugging his partner, but he didn’t know what to do about it, either. He could tell River to ask Hugo, and then they could all take a pee break together? His lips moved to form River’s name, but no sound came out, and River didn’t notice. River too had realized he could just ASK Hugo to please, please bring him to the toilet before he exploded, but then he thought that standing up and leaving the theater could give someone a chance to get a good look at them. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ River thought, rubbing his ankles together frantically. ‘What are the odds someone with that organization is IN this theater and will turn from the screen just in time to see you— And somehow be able to tell even in the dark that it’s YOU?’ All the rational thoughts in the world couldn’t chase away that one terrified, illogical one though. So, River made himself hold it. He made himself hold it all through the entire last hour of the movie, holding his crotch, bouncing his legs, sitting on his feet and begging his body to hold on. Duncan kept rubbing a thumb over his hand, and River figured Duncan had probably noticed his distress. Hugo noticed it when the lights came on and he had a clearer view of his surroundings. River was doubled over on himself by then, one hand wedged firmly between his thighs as his legs bobbed up and down. Hugo’s first instinct was to joke around, ask River if he’d really liked the movie THAT much since he’d been so determined not to miss a second of it. But most of River’s behavior was based in trauma. Of course he hadn’t gotten up for a pee during the movie, he wouldn’t go off anywhere by himself now. So, instead Hugo whispered “You could have tapped me. Duncan and I would have walked with you to the restroom. Let me know next time, okay?” River just whimpered, he didn’t have the energy to explain why he’d been too scared for that. His body bent so far forward that the top of his head was brushing against the empty seat in front of him. Crap… Had they both lost their voices now? “River, you okay?” “I have to go piss!” River whispered sharply. Okay. Good. He could still talk… “I— I know, come on. We’ll take you.” They exited the theater, doing so rather slowly since River was having a great deal of trouble walking and Duncan wouldn’t stop clinging to him. They walked down the hall, passing the first men’s room since it had a line, and finding another out in the main part of the shopping mall. “H—Here,” Hugo said. “This one will be nice and empty and safe for you,” he encouraged. “Go on.” River scurried in, bladder aching from the anticipation of relief. Once the door had shut behind him and he was now alone in the empty, unfamiliar place, he felt different. The sensation that the world was about to fall apart beneath his feet overtook him and he felt dizzy. The throbbing of his bladder brought him back to reality. In the time before the Organization, he always used a stall. He’d just gotten used to stalls before his phalloplasty and had never thought ‘Oh, right. I can finally use the urinals now.’ River was a bit of a creature of habit, he supposed. But, this time, when he stepped into the stall and pulled the lock into place, his heart instantly started slamming around in his chest and he felt blood rushing in his ears. Something in him was screaming ‘NO LOCKS! TOO TIGHT! TOO DARK!’ So, he quickly left the stall and rushed for the row of urinals instead. Once there, he paused for a second, trying to decide if there was a specific area he was supposed to aim at. His bladder sent him a very sharp plea not to worry about that, so he just took out his dick, hoped he was pointing it at a spot that wouldn’t cause splashback, and prepared for his torment to come to an end. But then, the strangest thing happened. There was no stream. There was no relief. There was just an ever-growing pressure in his abdomen that continued to hurt worse and worse. What. The. Fuck. Why the Hell wasn’t it coming out? First he’d been fighting not to piss his pants and now he couldn’t piss at all? He rubbed a hand over his lower abdomen, and the pain skyrocketed, but he still didn’t actually pee. The silence of the empty restroom penetrated his ear drums. He kept checking back over his shoulder, all of the shadows in the room becoming twisted and frightening. Some of the stall doors weren’t open all the way, he couldn’t see in them. Anything could be in there. He just had to hurry up and pee so he could get out of here! He bounced sharply on his heels a few times, begging his body to please, please just let him piss so that this ordeal could be over with. But, the harder he tried to get his stream started, the more determined his bladder seemed to be to hang onto it. Finally, the silence became more than he could handle. He zipped himself up and, the second he did, his bladder released a protesting squirt into his boxers. With an angry growl, he pulled his dick back out and aimed, and— Nothing. Again. He wanted to break something. But, the only thing it looked like he’d be breaking today was his own bladder, unless he somehow managed to get it to empty. He struggled for several more seconds before he gave up yet again. He tucked his member back away and pulled up his zipper. Again, as soon as his pants were closed, a dribble of liquid warmed his crotch. But, he didn’t bother with getting his cock back out. He was pretty sure he already knew what would happen if he did. He stomped out of the restroom, barely managing to restrain his urge to punch a wall on his way out. He was so frustrated that his steps were harsh and slapped against the ground, sending sick reverberations of need through his bladder. But, he didn’t care. His stupid bladder had been given its chance, it was its own stupid fault that it was still full. Hugo was still standing beside the door, Duncan clinging around his arm. Duncan released Hugo and grabbed River instead now that he was back. “Mmm…?” he made a low, inquisitive noise that River guessed was broken-voice-speak for “Feel better now?” “No,” River said. “I— I don’t know what the fuck just happened in there, but I couldn’t piss and now I just gotta go even worse.” Hugo scratched his chin. He tried to remember if River had used a urinal yet or not… After his phalloplasty, he’d still opted for stalls every time Hugo had seen. “Was someone next to you?” He asked. “Because, that’s normal. Lots of guys get some stage fright if—“ “No. I was the only one in the room,” River interrupted. He’d known what Hugo was getting at, but THAT was not something which applied to him. He’d pissed in plenty of places that weren’t the least bit private back when he was homeless. Another dude being at the urinal next to him would have been NOTHING. “And I can go in front of people. You’ve seen me go before.” That was true. Hugo had just thought that maybe River would feel differently around a stranger. Apparently not. “So, you… Couldn’t go even though you were alone?” River shook his head, miserable. “And I still feel like I’m gonna explode my kidneys! I just— I gotta go home. Now. I think I can go there.” “Are you sure? We still haven’t seen any stores, or gone to din—“ “L—Let’s just order a pizza once we’re back home?” River suggested. “Please? It really hurts…I need— I need to go home!” Hugo couldn’t say no now that River had admitted he was in pain. But, he was still perplexed by this turn of events. It would be one thing if River froze up because someone was next to him, but this didn’t make any sense to him at all. Hugo led River and Duncan back to the car. They got into the backseat and he started to drive them in the direction of the forest. “Do you still want me to take the zig-zaggy, long way home?” He asked. The confusing route would be safest, in case someone had spotted them. But, it would take a while and River just had to go so, so bad… He chose safety over his need for relief. “Yes.” “Okay,” Hugo said. “If… If you need me to pull over along the way…” River shook his head. He was certain that if Hugo pulled over, he’d have the same problem again. He just needed to be home… Duncan was still clutching his arm, and River turned to him. “Long way okay with you?” He asked. Duncan just nodded, no sound left his mouth. He was still utterly silent. Hugo drove, a pit forming in his stomach. True, this was only their first trip out, but it had gone just terribly. One of them forgot how to speak, and the other suddenly couldn’t use the bathroom for some reason, in spite of what was obviously a SEVERE need to do so. He hoped the next outing went better. If he could convince them to GO on a second, anyway. River gnashed his teeth together as the car bounced along. He still wasn’t used to the feeling of being in a moving vehicle again, having to endure that with a full bladder increased the discomfort tenfold. He squeezed his thighs together and bounced his knees. Duncan inched closer to him. “Mmm… Sor…ry…” he managed to force out. 
“I—It’s not your fault,” River assured him, just happy he’d actually said something. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.” He crossed his legs. “I just— I gotta hold it, I guess. I’ll be able to have a piss once we’re back home.” Hugo was driving slightly above the speed limit. He would not allow River to wet his pants on his watch. He was going to make damn sure the guy made it. When he glanced back at them in the rearview mirror, he saw River had graduated to holding himself again— Both hands, too. This was bad. River leaned backwards in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel every crack in the road, and each one stabbed his bladder without remorse. ‘Why the Hell couldn’t I go at the mall?!’ He kept wondering. Maybe he’d spent so much time inside lately that he’d developed a shy bladder in spite of not having one before? ‘Bullshit. I’ve pissed in fucking bushes with people babbling a few feet away, I don’t get pee-shy. Especially when there’s no god damned people around.’ Wait. It was the silence in the restroom that had freaked him out, right? The silence, the solitude inside an unfamiliar room where threatening people could very easily hide… Did he just get… ‘Stage fright’, as Hugo had called it, because people WEREN’T around to look at him while he took a piss? Well, then stage fright was probably the wrong term, but he thought he DID have an idea of what his issue was now. When he thought more about it, the idea of urinating in a packed restroom where people would be sure to see if someone jumped out of a stall and did something to him sounded… Maybe not exactly pleasant, but better than the empty, silent room he’d been in earlier. If this theory was correct, then River hadn’t spontaneously become pee-shy. He was… Whatever the opposite of pee-shy was. He could only go if someone WAS looking. So, maybe he would have had better luck using the FIRST bathroom they’d passed, the one with all of the people crowded inside it. Well. A fat load of good figuring all of that out did for him NOW. He was still just going to have to hold it all the way home! He coiled his legs together when they went over a speed bump. He felt like his bladder was being juggled around in the air or something. He looked out the window, but felt like an idiot a moment later. Of course, he couldn’t gauge how close they were to the cabin because he wouldn’t recognize any of the things they were passing. Which left him with one other option to find out how much longer he had to contain himself; Asking ‘are we there yet?’ over and over like a bored child on a road trip. He didn’t want to do that, it would be so humiliating, and he held off as long as he could. But, eventually the pressure was so bad that he just blurted it out; “Hugo, how much further?” “It’s going to be about half an hour,” Hugo replied. “Can you do that, River?” And Hugo’s voice was so paternal, so utterly caring and comforting, that River felt… Well, he wasn’t sure what he felt. His chest and face felt warm, like they did when he was embarrassed. But, it wasn’t a ‘burning’ kind of heat, it was more like being wrapped up in a cozy blanket… “O—Okay,” River said, shifting his position again. “I can make it…” Duncan squeezed his arm again. “River… Okay?” He croaked. “Y—Yeah,” River said. He was still deeply concerned by how Duncan was acting, too. The way he was talking or, rather, NOT talking was unsettling. “Good…” Duncan sighed. River jiggled his legs. He wasn’t okay. Not really. He felt like he was about to go, right where he was. He was going to piss all over the seat. That thought gripped him with its icy tendrils, shudders ripping up his spine. “H—Hugo?!” River whimpered desperately. “When are we going to be home?” When he didn’t receive an answer within an eighth of femtosecond, he added “Hugo. Hugo, soon, right? Soon?” His bladder cramped so painfully, and a burst of heat soaked his boxers. “Ahhh—!” Hugo tensely gripped the steering wheel. It had been less than five minutes since River had last asked that. “St—Still about half an hour,” he told him. “I’m sorry.” River doubled over, bucking his hips against his clenched hands.He sucked his stomach in tight. He felt like it had already BEEN half an hour! He felt like it had been half a day! He couldn’t make it! He’d waited so long already, through the drive TO the mall, through the movie, through the anxiety-induced lock-up in the restroom… It had already been more than his small bladder could handle! He felt a long, slow dribble seep out of him, and he bit his lip to keep from cursing. “Hold on, River…” Hugo encouraged gently. “I know, it’s an emergency… I’m getting you home.” Duncan patted River’s rapidly bouncing knee. He wanted to tell River that he’d make it. He wanted to tell River that it would be okay if he had an accident. He wanted to tell River… Anything to make it better! But, while he could get his mouth to move enough to form those words, his vocal cords wouldn’t put in the effort to drag them out. River leaned into him, coiling up. He pulled his foot into the seat with him, dug it hard into his shimmering crotch, and Duncan saw now that his boyfriend had already had a little spill… He realized with a heavy heart that River probably WOULDN’T make it home in time. Another bump in the road was River’s undoing, the next stream that pulsed out of him was violent in its intensity and he couldn’t stop it, he could only restrain it to dribbles. “Bottle!” River cried. “Huh?” Hugo asked. “B—Bottle!” River repeated, lip catching between his teeth. “Please! Please— Tell me there’s a bottle in here! I can’t—“ a loud hiss filled the air and interrupted him. “I can’t hold it! I need to go piss NOW.” Hugo had heard River’s last leak, it had been so forceful that it was impossible NOT to hear it. He hoped the seat underneath River wasn’t too wet. He didn’t care about the seat itself, he was just worried what it would do to River’s self-esteem if he drenched it. Hugo opened the glove compartment. River anxiously waited, so hopeful. The pressure was increasing again, he’d let out a TON during his last loss of control, and now the rest of his bladder wanted out worse than ever. And from the way his sphincters were trembling, he was certain he was going to burst any second now. By the time Hugo had found a bottle, River was gasping, grunting, and holding himself so firmly that it was hurting him. It was tiny, about half the size of a normal water bottle, but River panted out his thanks as he pulled his dribbling cock free from his damp boxers. He shook as he readied himself at the bottle’s opening. “Ahhh— Hurrryyyy…” River moaned, undoing his seat-belt and scooting forwards. He made quick work of his zipper, the sound of it releasing made his spurting flow restart as Hugo handed him the bottle. Instantly, his bladder cracked open and he was voiding uncontrollably into the little container. River let out a wail of immense relief, flopping forwards and allowing his sweaty forehead to rest against the back of Hugo’s seat. It didn’t take long for River to become aware of a new problem; The bottle was too small. The heavy stone of his bladder had only just barely loosened up, allowing River a sample of his relief, and then he noticed the bottle was almost completely full. He didn’t know if he could stop! It just— It felt so good to pee, he didn’t want to stop! He wanted to go and go and go forever! Piss was ejecting from him at full-force, his muscles exhausted from being pulled taut for so long. But, the bottle was nearly overflowing! River whimpered and clenched his holding muscles, pain erupting from his middle as he tried to cut his stream short. His release slowed to a leaky spurting, but he couldn’t stop. “Hugo—!“ River gasped. “Where’s— Is there another bottle? This one’s almost full and I’m not finished!” He was trying as hard as he could to quit going, but his bladder wouldn’t listen, sending more and more dribbles out. “I’m sorry,” Hugo said. “That was the only one I could find. I promise we’re almost there… Try to hold on to the rest until then, alright?” River whimpered— He could feel there was still SO MUCH left in him! “You’ve let out a lot of it,” Hugo told him. “That’s enough to give you a little more time.” He just hoped the reassurance would encourage River to make it. It seemed to work, as River managed to stop any more pee from coming out for long enough to put the cap back on the bottle and stuff his member back into his pants. He winced at the sodden feeling of the material, it was an awful tease, trying to coax him into just giving up and finishing in his pants. But, he was able to restrain that urge. He wasn’t able to force himself to pull up his zipper or put his seat-belt back on. “Five more minutes,” Hugo promised. “You can make it.” River was grateful they were so close, but that came with a price. Because, once they’d pulled on to the winding, dirt road that led through the woods and towards their cabin, the ride became painfully bumpy. His bladder responded to each shake of the car by spasming harshly, and his muscles were so frayed from the constant tension that he wasn’t able to stop the warm drips from continually spilling into his clammy boxers. ‘No, please!’ He begged himself. ‘We’re so fucking close! I have to make it now!’ He shook with pain, groaning loudly when the car went into a dip in the road and prompted another loud splash of pee. Duncan had heard River’s last loss of control and scooted himself closer to him. He stroked River’s arm. “It’s… Okay…” he told him. It was getting easier to speak the closer they got to the cabin. “River… It will only be a few more minutes…” River relaxed a little at the sound of Duncan’s voice speaking in complete sentences. “I have to piss. God, Duncan, I have to go so fucking bad…” he gritted. “I know…” Duncan said, kissing his cheek. “Almost there. You can do it.” The cabin was in sight, finally. River was jiggling like crazy in his seat. He could go soon, he could go very, very soon! Just— Just a few more seconds, please hang on… He shifted, one hand digging between his thighs, the other wound tightly around the door handle, waiting for the car to stop so that he could at last finish his pee. River jerked the door open and gently stepped out, his legs were jelly and he wobbled, whined, leaned against the car with both of his hands wedged firmly between his knotted legs. His bladder was boiling, burning away within him as he fought to drag himself to the door. Once there, a hot stream trickled down the side of his left leg. It felt like his bladder must have been the heaviest thing in the entire universe. The stream built into a miniature torrent, quickly re-soaking his drying pants. “Ahhh—!” He moaned, shifting frantically from foot to foot. Hugo had run to the door and thrusted the key into the lock, he twisted it and threw the door open for River, who could now only stare inside as he felt the threatening tremble that told him he’d well and truly explode if he tried to take another step. ‘No, no, no! Fuck!’ He’d fought so hard to make it, and now he was gonna completely pee his pants just as soon as he’d gotten home! Duncan crept out from behind Hugo, his eyes widening as he figured out what was happening to River— He couldn’t move! “C—Come on, walk with me,” Duncan said, and River sagged against him as Duncan helped him take tiny, half-steps into the cabin. “Almost there, baby…” he said. “Hang on.” River whimpered the whole way, he was humiliated, but beneath the humiliation there was something a lot more pleasant. Again, his chest was warm, something inside of him going light and happy as he allowed another person to take so much control over him, to manage him and tend to his very pressing need. The gentle, caring tone Duncan was using only intensified those feelings. “Duncan, it hurts…” “It’s okay,” Duncan turned and opened the door to the restroom. “You made it, you’re here. Can you take the last few steps by yourself?” River was shaking his head rapidly, he hadn’t stopped dripping little drops since he’d gotten inside, without someone to lean on he’d be forced to feel the full weight of his bladder again. He couldn’t… Duncan brought him right in front of the toilet, and River allowed the other to move him there. It was… It was nice to have someone else do things for him, to be taken care of… But, the sight of the toilet was just too much, an atrocious spasm gripped hold of his ailing bladder and a rush of pee burst out of him that was unlike any of his previous leaks. He screwed his eyes shut. His mouth dropped open in an unspoken wail of protest, but his bladder was incapable of following directions anymore. He was peeing for all he was worth. Duncan reached into the still open flaps of River’s pants and pulled his damp, spraying member out, aiming the gushing torrent into the toilet for him. “There…” he whispered. “There you go…” River’s eyes popped back open when he felt the hand touching his dick, and heard the sound of fluid against water. Duncan was… Doing EVERYTHING for him now. He’d taken his dick out, he’d aimed it, he was still aiming it. River didn’t have to do a thing, apart from just allow his body to continue doing what it NEEDED. When he realized that, the relief truly hit him. He could just go now. He could let it all out. No more fighting. No more work. Just the pure bliss of emptying his bladder after such a prolonged period of restraint. “Ahhhhhhh….” “Th—That feeling a little better?” Duncan asked. He felt extremely awkward doing this. He was surprised at himself that he was doing it at all. He just wasn’t going to let River have an accident when the toilet was literally right in front of him. “Fuck…” River breathed. Duncan decided that probably meant ‘Yes, Duncan. I feel loads better now. Thank you so much for helping me go pee,’ and he continued to hold River’s member as it sprayed out its waterfall. And that was when it hit him. This was… This was the VERY FIRST time he’d ever touched River’s penis. Apart from occasionally feeling up River’s crotch through his clothes, Duncan hadn’t touched his dick until now. Of course, he’d been wanting to do that for a while, this just wasn’t how he’d ever imagined it would happen. He’d imagined it happening at night, they would have been fooling around above their clothes like they often did, and then River would say he finally felt ready to do that without any fabric in the way. His cheeks grew warmer, because every time Duncan had fantasized about that, it had ended with him making River moan in the EXACT same way he was doing it now. So, part of his imaginary scenario actually HAD come true? He sure was making River moan up a storm now… As some of the haze of his desperation faded, River was coming to a similar realization. This was the first time Duncan had ever touched his penis— The first time ANYBODY had ever touched it, apart from himself… And, technically, the surgeons, but he didn’t know if that could really be counted. It felt strange to have another person’s hand on his dick. He’d had other people touch his… old parts, before he’d gotten them fixed, but every time that had happened, it either hurt, or he’d sort of switched his brain off, made himself NOT feel it. This time, he wasn’t switching off, he was feeling everything about this moment. Duncan’s hand was warm and gentle, River’s bladder shrinking and deflating, and all of that felt so amazing… Finally, the last of his pee had splashed out of him, and he leaned back against Duncan with another moan. He felt utterly exhausted. Today had been so tiring, over-stimulating. Going out in public for the first time in months, watching a loud action movie, worrying about Duncan, holding his pee until he’d started to break… He barely had the presence of mind to tuck his dick back into his pants. They were cold and clammy now, and he realized he’d probably leaked badly enough that he needed to get changed. He’d do that in a minute, once he’d remembered how to walk again… Duncan rubbed River’s chest. “Okay now?” He asked. River nodded. “I have to change…” he admitted. “D—Don’t feel bad,”” Duncan said. “You… Held most of it. Sorry that I just… Grabbed your thing like that. I should have asked first. I wasn’t thinking.” “It’s okay,” River said. “I think I… I needed help.” The words sounded strange on his tongue, foreign. He’d taken care of himself since he was sixteen. Yet, today he’d needed a great deal of assistance with something as simple as using the toilet. That should have been shameful, right? So, then why did he feel so happy that he’d given up his control to someone else?
  2. River woke the next morning just as desperate as he’d been yesterday. Whenever he made it through the night without getting up to use the toilet once or twice AND without wetting the bed, he always woke with an extremely full bladder. Luckily, Duncan wasn’t coiled around him like he’d been yesterday. River could stand from the bed and— Ooof! He crumpled over on himself as soon as his feet made contact with the cold wooden floor. He squeezed his cock and hopped up and down, his hips shaking as he waited for the atrocious spasm to pass. Once he was able to start walking, he made his way from the bedroom and down the hall. Cringing, he released one hand from around his cock so he could open the bathroom door. But, it didn’t come open. Memories of the previous night came back to him. Duncan had said he was always free to knock if it was an emergency— And this was definitely an emergency! He pounded his fist against the door, shouting “Duncan! Please hurry! I have to go piss!” There was no response from inside, and he couldn’t hear the shower running. Nor could hear the sink faucet, or the sound of pee hissing into the bowl. He was grateful for these things as he knew his bladder wouldn’t be able to handle listening to them, but he was also confused. What was Duncan doing in there? He knocked again. “Duncan, please? I— I just woke up, so it’s real bad!” He shuffled from foot to foot— He just couldn’t hold still! Standing in front of the restroom was making him have to go worse, so he made himself head to the living room and sit on the sofa instead. He brought one of his feet up onto the couch with him, rocking against frantically as he prayed for Duncan to hurry up with whatever he was doing. He felt the couch shift and he opened his eyes to find Duncan beside him. Finally! He stood up immediately, dribbling slightly into his pajamas, but not caring since he knew he was close now. He wordlessly began shuffling away, but Duncan stopped him. “River— Uh…” River bounced in place. “Whaaaat?” he whined. “Can’t it wait?” Duncan shook his head anxiously, and River noticed a quiver in the other man’s legs, his thighs rubbing themselves together. “Th—The bathroom door is stuck…” he mumbled. “I’ve been holding it since I got up.” River froze, but just for a second before his bladder demanded him to start moving again. “B—But—“ he stammered. “I—“ He rushed back to the door. Duncan was probably wrong— He HAD to be! River was about to pop! He—He probably hadn’t pulled on the door hard enough! That was all! He wrapped both hands around the door knob— ignoring the warmth he felt around his crotch after he’d let go of his dick— and tugged it as hard as his strength would allow. “Nnnh… Come on…” he muttered. “Stupid… fucking… I need to go now! Let me in!” The door wouldn’t budge. He let go of the knob and let his hands fly back between his legs as he took several mincing, pained, contorted steps in place. This was bad, and it was completely unfair! He should be able to piss in his own fucking house! Angered, he kicked the door, the action sending a horrific jolt of need up through his leg and into his bladder. He felt another drop seep out and he stumbled backwards, squeezing himself even harder. “River,” Duncan said, coming beside him. “Don’t hurt yourself.” “I need to go!” River said, as if he hadn’t already made that incredibly obvious. “I— I know,” Duncan said. “I do, too…” he wriggled his hips, tensing up his lower body. “B—But the door’s just stuck… Hugo can take it apart when he gets home…” Hugo would not be home until the evening! Hours and hours away! River would wet his pants multiple times before Hugo arrived. There was no way he could contain himself until then. He already felt an accident was fast approaching. He couldn’t believe Duncan apparently thought that HE could last that long! Duncan saw the panic on River’s face and realized that the statement he’d MEANT to sound reassuring had just caused River to feel more certain that he was going to burst. “Hey, it’s alright… Let’s look for somewhere else to go.” River nodded frantically. He’d go anywhere— Anywhere! Just so long as this pressure went away and he got to keep his pants mostly dry! “Hurry…” he gritted. Duncan wandered into the kitchen. He had a funny feeling in his chest. When they’d escaped from the hit-men, River had been completely in charge, making all the decisions, keeping Duncan safe like a body-guard would. And, so often, River was still taking care of him, holding him after a nightmare or coaxing him out from under his blankets when he was feeling scared. It felt good to be the one taking care of River for once. River tried to come across as tough, hard and impenetrable, which Duncan reasoned was probably a defense mechanism he’d developed when he was homeless, but even the gruffest person looked vulnerable when about to wet their pants. Duncan opened the fridge. No water bottles, Hugo had taken them today. There were other bottles, but they were still full of juice. He couldn’t just pour all that down the drain, could he? He checked the cabinets next, they were mostly bare since none of them really knew how to cook. They ate take-out or fast-food most days, and otherwise had microwave TV dinners. They didn’t have any bowls. Duncan looked inside the trash can after that. He recalled the huge cup of fruit punch River had drained last night— That would DEFINITELY be enough to fit his bladder. But, the trash can was empty. Hugo must have taken it out this morning. Could… Could River just pee into the empty trash can? Duncan didn’t think anything would leak out of it… And his own bladder was starting to spasm startlingly at the idea. It told him that this was a fantastic plan, that he and River should BOTH release their streams into the receptacle. But, then his rational mind took over as he remembered they’d need to somehow clean the thing out afterwards to keep the entire cabin from reeking of urine. So, then where could— His eyes shifted to one of the closed windows, and he remembered that he and River were currently surrounded by trees and bushes on all sides. If they could just go outside, then they’d both be fully relieved in a matter of minutes. But, that was the problem, wasn’t it? Just going outside wasn’t something either of them could do anymore… Duncan left the kitchen, he found River still in front of the bathroom door, angrily pulling on the doorknob with all his strength. River’s teeth were grinding from the exertion, and his bladder lurched in constant spasms, but he HAD to get the door open! His eyes popped open and fell on Duncan, anxiously going towards his hands. When he didn’t see the other holding any type of container, his need to urinate skyrocketed even further. “Pl—Please tell me you found somewhere for me to piss?” he begged. “Please?” Duncan shook his head. “No bottles or anything in the kitchen,” he said, hating the dismayed, panicked expression on River’s face. “Then what the Hell am I supposed to do?” River asked. “There’s seriously NO room left in my bladder!” “I— I—“ Duncan rubbed his hands against his thighs, feeling the tautness of those muscles. He was so focused on River’s plight that he kept forgetting that HE needed to go pretty badly as well. “Oh! Towels!” he exclaimed. “T—Towels?” “Are they all in the bathroom?” Duncan asked. “You can wrap your… self… up in one and—“ River was already spinning around to face the hall closet. If there were any towels NOT in the bathroom, that would be where they were! He flung the door open and found… Some shoes, a few shirts and some pants. He supposed he could ALSO shoot his piss into the material of one of the shirts, but all of the ones in the closet belonged to Hugo. Hugo wasn’t here to say if it was okay or not. He just stood there, staring at all of the items that couldn’t help him. Duncan frowned at the contents of the closet too. He would have appreciated a towel to relieve himself into as well. River rocked on his heels, crossing his legs back and forth wildly. “Nnnh… Fuck…” He bounced up and down, strands of his hair flying. He didn’t even really know WHY he was still trying to hold it. He WAS going to pee his pants before Hugo got home and fixed the door. He may as well just get it over with! Duncan was the only one around to see, and he could get himself changed and clean the floor off, it wouldn’t be THAT bad to have an accident! He made himself go still, intending to just let it flow so that it would finally stop hurting, but Duncan caught on to what he was doing and stopped him. “River, no,” he said. “Don’t give up. We’ll think of something.” River’s legs snapped back together, a horrendous shock of pain flaring through his midsection as he went from telling his bladder to relax to immediately telling it to close back up a second later. He twisted on his feet, turning around in tiny circles. “Please think of it fast, this hurts so fucking bad…” “I’m trying,” Duncan said, watching as River crouched to the floor and shoved one of his feet underneath himself, still jiggling wildly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” River muttered. “I need to piss… I have to go piss so fucking much…” Still, the only solution Duncan had was going outside. All his hair was standing on end just at the thought! 
Maybe they could just pee out of a window without needing to go all the way outside? Opening a window would be scary too… Duncan’s bladder felt like it was wobbling inside him, he shifted from side to side and swore he could feel his urine sloshing. He had a bit of room left in his bladder, but not very much. It was only a matter of time before he was as bad off as River! Duncan walked through the cabin, thinking about the logistics of pissing out the window. The windows weren’t really at crotch-level for either of them, they were too high up. River was probably gonna piss with the force of fifty fire hoses when he finally let it loose, so maybe he’d be able to shoot it up high enough that it made it through the window? Or, maybe they could use something to help them reach… The barstools in the kitchen were all stuck to the floor. The couch was too heavy for Duncan to move by himself, and if River exerted himself on anything that wasn’t holding his pee, he was sure to have an accident. Same went for the beds. Going out the window would be too messy. They had to go outside… Duncan shuddered. Fear wrapping an icy hand around his chest. He went back to River, his boyfriend was now just muttering curses to himself and occasionally kicking the stuck door. The impact of his foot against the wood didn’t seem to be helping his bladder too much, because each time he did it he would whimper loudly and double over— Once or twice Duncan even heard a little hissing noise coming from him as some of his pee spilled out. He didn’t seem able to STOP himself from kicking, though. “River…?” Duncan said. “Just let me the fuck in…” River mumbled. “I’m going to fucking burst, you stupid, god damned door…” “River!” Duncan repeated, louder now. River snapped out of it. “Pleeease tell me I can go piss soon?!” “Um…” Duncan swayed back and forth from something that had very little to do with his bladder. “Well… Uh… Outside, there are lots of trees…” River cringed, tipping his head back. “D—Don’t tease me!” He snapped. “You know I can’t!” “I—I know, I don’t want to either,” Duncan said. “But, there’s nowhere else, and you’re… You’re about to…” River wriggled his hips, shifting his bottom against the floor. He thought, for a second, that he’d prefer wetting his pants to the risks merely stepping out the door held. Then, fury boiled inside his chest. Those fucking bastards from the Organization. They’d controlled his every move when he’d been their prisoner, and they were doing it again now when they weren’t even around! Now, he was going to piss in his clothes because of the terror and paranoia they’d filled him with?! No! Never! River was in charge of River! And River wanted to take a very long, very satisfying leak against a tree! River wanted to do that NOW! He stood up onto his wobbly legs and hobbled to the front door. He reached a hand, about to open it, and then his arm just froze. He told his hand to go forwards, to grasp the doorknob and turn it. He BEGGED his body to listen to him, but icy chills ran down his spine and without realizing it, he’d backed away completely. He threw himself onto the couch, hands digging against his crotch and legs crossing in all directions. And he held it. Duncan’s heart ached as he watched all of that play out. He knew he would have reacted the same way in River’s position. He didn’t want to leave the cabin any more than River did. He decided now to just sit on the sofa with his boyfriend and try to console him. He’d do his best to encourage the desperate man to hang on, but he knew that would be impossible. He’d just have to help him stand up when he started to wet himself, and reassure him afterwards that it was okay he’d had an accident. Duncan rubbed River’s taut back, listening as he kept muttering incoherent, angry gibberish about how bad he needed to go. “I’m gonna fucking burst… Hhhh, it hurts so bad…. I can’t fucking keep it in…” “It’s okay, River…” Duncan soothed. “How long’s it been since you last went?” “Last night, after you got out of the shower…” River said, miserable. There wasn’t a clock in this room, but Duncan knew that had been a long time ago. No wonder River was brimming with pee… “You can hold it longer, I know you can do it!” “I can’t, Duncan,” River said. “I can’t fucking wait anymore. I need to piss so badly that I feel like it’s gonna gush out my nostrils.” Duncan winced. “Try to think of something else?” “I can’t do that even if my god damned life depended on it,” River said. “The piss is up to my motherfucking ribcage.” “Um…. Let’s go back to our bedroom and watch a movie?” Duncan offered. “I don’t even think I can stand back up,” River admitted. “Dammit!” “What?” “I keep— I just can’t stop leaking!” River exclaimed. Duncan was now worried for the sofa cushions. “Stand up before you—“ “Shitshitshitshitshit!!” River cried, doubling over with an anguished wail. “I’m—“ Duncan heard a louder hiss coming from River. It lasted about three seconds before he was able to stop. Duncan grabbed River’s shoulders and hauled him up, intending to allow him to have his accident somewhere that it would all land on the easy to clean, wood floors. But when he saw the look on River’s face, so anguished and upset, he couldn’t let that happen. Barely thinking about it, he dragged River to the front door and got it open. He led him down the steps and into the grass. River heaved with panicked gasps the entire time, and Duncan wasn’t sure if that was caused by leaving the cabin or by how much he had to pee. “I— I really— Oh, Hell—“ River kept choking out, shoving his pajama bottoms and boxers down so that they bunched around his knees, a stream blasted out of him immediately, the drips turning into a furious jet of liquid relief that transformed all of his agony into mind-breaking pleasure. Duncan was squinting hard now that they were outdoors. He hadn’t seen the sun in so long that the afternoon sky was absolutely painful. The blue was too bright. The white clouds were too bright. The glare of the sun was DEFINITELY too bright. Duncan felt like his eyes were going to be burned right out of their sockets. “Haaaaahhhhhh….” River moaned, and Duncan turned to look at him, his eyes barely open. They widened a LITTLE more when he saw River had pulled his pants down completely, leaving his butt on full display. He must have been too desperate to mess with the button on his pajamas… “Sweet… Merciful…” River panted. He just… He couldn’t believe it could feel this good just to take a piss! His urine kept pouring, and he was completely delirious. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, and he registered that it was painful to open them for some reason, but couldn’t work out why. All he could register was that his insides no longer felt like they were pulling themselves apart. “Haahhhhh….” He never wanted this feeling to end! Duncan’s bladder grew more irritated the longer he watched River go, so he stood beside his boyfriend and unbuttoned his pajamas, releasing his own stream with a soft sigh. “Mmmm….” The pressure slid away from him, his poor bladder deflating for the first time today. Duncan actually finished first, in spite of starting second. His stomach churned. He knew River had a smaller bladder than he did, so all that moaning and wailing he’d been doing must have been justified if he was still releasing such a violent, forceful stream after all this time. River finally finished, shuddering hard as he pulled his pants back up. “Jesus fucking.. That feels so much better!” He gasped. “I—“ He looked around, and finally figured out why his eyes had been hurting. He’d just been so focused on GOING that he hadn’t fully paid attention to WHERE he was going; He’d been gushing away into the grass beneath his feet, because he was OUTSIDE. He was outside for the first time in months. And nothing bad was happening. But, fear cinched him anyway and he rushed back to the door, returning to the safety of the inside. Duncan anxiously followed him. They shut the door, and locked it. Then took deep breaths as they stood behind it. Duncan grabbed River’s hand and squeezed hard. River squeezed back, unsure of what to say. Finally, River spoke; “I— We were just outside.” “I know…” Duncan nodded shakily. “A—And it was okay…” River added. “Th—This time…” “Yeah…” Duncan said, as they started to go back to the couch. They collapsed there and just held each other. “I— I didn’t think I’d ever go out again,” he admitted. “Me neither,” River agreed. “I… I can’t believe THAT’S what finally got us out there…” Duncan blushed. “I’ll say… You had to GO, didn’t you?” “That was probably the worst I’ve ever needed to piss in my entire freaking life, yeah,” River nodded. “I seriously feel like I’m just gonna start fucking floating any second now, must have lost, like, fifty pounds getting all that outta my system.” Duncan wasn’t sure why, but he smoothed a hand over River’s lower belly, around where his bladder was. River flinched for a second, but then let out another sigh. He was SO sore there that getting a bit of a massage felt pretty good. “Oh, by the way, you’ve got a really cute butt,” Duncan added, making River blush. “Just thought you’d like to know.” River smiled, because there was a spark of how Duncan had been when they’d first met, that first day of their imprisonment with the Organization, before either of them had known what they were really in for.
  3. And here's "Duncan", River's boyfriend, having an accident.
  4. When Hugo came home from making deliveries, he had brought home some fast food for River and Duncan. River was more enthusiastic about the meal than Duncan was. Before, in his old life, Duncan had eaten out at lots of upscale restaurants, with big dining areas and a real sense of atmosphere. He couldn’t go to those places now. Even though they had the funds for a big dinner out, the public presented too many dangers. He and River hadn’t left this cabin once since they’d gotten here, the cozy walls were beginning to feel more like the bars of a prison cell. Duncan longed to treat River to a fancy dinner, it was what he deserved… Eating cheap hamburgers and limp fries while they sat on the couch just wasn’t the same thing. River, on the other hand, was delighted with the food. Duncan supposed that had a lot to do with how hungry he’d gotten in the past— Pretty much anything must have seemed gourmet to him after spending years getting most of his meals out of dumpsters. He’d told Duncan a bit about that, and it made Duncan’s chest ache to imagine him digging around in garbage until he managed to find something that looked edible enough. That was probably also why River sometimes ate the way he did. Almost… Aggressive. And really, really fast. Shoveling food into his mouth so quickly he probably didn’t even taste it, and acting sort of possessive over it as well. Like tonight, he was stuffing fries down his throat eleven or twelve at a time. Duncan encouraged him to slow down— He’d had to help River out after he’d accidentally choked himself a few times. “It’s not going anywhere,” Duncan reminded him. “And, you’ve survived WAY too much stuff to go out by clogging your airway with a french fry.” River obeyed, managing to actually CHEW his food before swallowing it. It had been a long time since he’d lived on the streets, but warm, filling meals like this remained an absolute blessing in his mind. “How was your day?” Hugo asked them. “Same as always,” Duncan said, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice. He liked spending time with River, he just wished they could spend that time actually DOING something some days. “I’m sorry,” Hugo said. “I’m going to get you boys some new movies to watch, that should help.” Their main form of entertainment was the TV set and DVD player. They both appreciated it, but sometimes seeing things on the screen that they used to be able to see in real life got difficult. “And… Hey, maybe eventually you can take… Little trips out. To places that feel safer.” The problem there was that nowhere felt safe. Not anymore. “Little steps first,” Hugo told them. “We could start having some of the curtains open when I’m here with you. I’m sure you miss being able to see the sun.” The curtains and blinds had been drawn twenty four-seven since they’d moved in. Duncan went rigid at the thought of opening them. “Someone could look in— See us— Someone from the—“ “We live in the middle of the woods,” Hugo said. “Even an experienced hiker would have to stumble onto this place accidentally in order to find it. And, we’ll only have them open when I’m with you. You and River can stay away from the windows as much as you like, it’s just… This isn’t healthy for you two. At all.” Duncan KNEW it wasn’t healthy, but being found would be even WORSE for his health than just staying inside and never letting anyone see him. Without realizing it, he’d grabbed River’s hand and had begun to squeeze it. River squeezed back, using his free hand to lift more fries to his mouth. He was scared too, but very little could squash his appetite. The only time in recent memory that he’d willingly skipped a meal when one was available had been during the game— The only time terror had made him too nauseas to eat. “Let’s… Let’s start with just one window, and work our way through that,” he said. Having one section of the cabin be scary and dangerous would be better than having the whole thing feel that way at once. “Alright,” Hugo said, standing from the couch. He went to the window and pulled back the curtains. “N—Now?” Duncan asked, frantic. “I’m here,” Hugo said. “Nothing will happen if I’m with you.” As soon as the curtain was drawn and the blinds had been raised, Duncan was on the floor, tugging River with him. Even if someone looked through the window, they wouldn’t be spotted… Hugo watched. He probably should have expected that sort of reaction. It was still the first step back to some semblance of normalcy, though. In time, it would get better. It HAD to. River and Duncan finished their food while resting on the floor. River smiled up at Hugo, whom had returned to the sofa. “I’m glad you picked Frankie’s on the way home today,” he said. “They have my favorite fruit punch.” He took a long sip from his cup, the sweet drink pooling coldly on his tongue. “I know,” Hugo said. “Hope I got enough for you. That’s the largest size they’ve got.” River had figured as much. His hand could barely wrap all the way around the enormous cup. Cold condensation wetted his palms and made him shiver a tiny bit. It was less of a cup, more of a barrel. But, he loved the punch so much that he drank every last drop of it and was disappointed when the cup was empty. He leaned back, feeling the liquid slosh inside him. His stomach was so full now he felt like he could fall straight to sleep right where he was. Hugo stood after he’d finished his food, he patted River and Duncan on their heads gently. “Get ready for bed now,” he said. “River, you look like you’re about to pass out!” River laughed. It was a warm sound. Hugo was so— He made River feel like he had a family. A real one, not like the fake one he’d grown up in. Those people hadn’t been his parents, just his egg and sperm donor. Hugo was more of a parent than either of them had ever been. Twice, River had barely managed to stop himself from calling Hugo “Dad.” But, like a father, Hugo had just instructed him and Duncan to get ready for bed. And to do THAT they would need to stand up from the floor, be in-sight of that window for a couple seconds… River knew it was a ridiculous fear, that someone from the Organization would be outside that window at the precise moment he became visible, but knowing that it was silly didn’t make him feel less scared. To his surprise, Duncan lurched to his feet first. He moved, a little hunched over and low to the ground, in the direction of the bedroom. He retrieved some pajamas and went into the restroom. River heard the shower turn on, and— As soon as the noise of the water spraying penetrated his ear-drums, River received a not so gentle reminder of where all that fruit punch had needed to go… He glanced at the now empty cup, and it actually looked even BIGGER to him now. He did not know the precise size of his bladder, but with as often as he needed to empty it, he figured the cup was somewhere around… Eight times larger? And he’d drank the whole thing so fast… And now Duncan was in the restroom… Somehow, the knowledge that River COULDN’T pee right now made him need to do it a whole lot worse. He wriggled his hips, feeling silly that he somehow managed to get himself into situations like this while never leaving his house. Staying inside all the time SHOULD have been a surefire way of PREVENTING incidents of desperation, but they happened to him pretty often anyway. If it wasn’t Duncan holding him too tightly during the night or early morning and needing to be wriggled free from, it was Hugo or Duncan already being IN the restroom when River realized he had to use it. And, always, when River realized he had to go, it became the only thing he COULD notice, and his laser-focus on his bladder made the pressure increase at a lightning speed. He’d always been like that. He knew that thinking about pee when he couldn’t go was the worst thing he could do, but he couldn’t STOP. He’d notice “Oh, I kind of have to pee right now,” and before he knew it he’d obsess over things like “Where can I go?” And “How long am I gonna have to wait?” SO much that he’d talked himself into becoming well and truly DESPERATE for it. He wriggled more as he kept sitting on the floor. The shower sounded louder to him now than it usually did. This wasn’t good… He leaned back, giving his bladder more space to stretch. He didn’t have to worry, the restroom would be freed up soon enough. But, his bladder was already worn out after he’d gotten so desperate earlier that morning. His holding muscles were tired and didn’t want him to get full again so soon. The exhaustion of his sphincters made him feel like he had to go a lot worse than he actually did. He shifted, pressing the heel of his foot against his groin and shaking his leg up and down. Hugo noticed River’s fidgeting, and knew right away what was wrong; River often used his foot to hold himself when he needed to go. For a while after Hugo had first started taking care of River, River had been so grateful to have a home and a job that wasn’t dangerous, but was also worried the rug would be pulled out from under him if he made a mistake. At first, when they were in their workshop together, River wouldn’t ask for toilet breaks, eager to prove to Hugo that he was useful and could work around the clock if necessary. Then, one day, River had been polishing the wood on a chair they’d just built and just… All of the sudden collapsed to the ground pulling his foot against his groin. “Did you slip?” Hugo had asked. “N—No,” River had said, climbing back to his feet, straightening his back out and widening his stance. “It’s fine. I got it. I can keep going.” “Got what? Did a bug fly in here?” And in response, River had just lowered his head and gotten back to work. A few minutes later, he seemed highly agitated, stomping his feet against the ground and shuffling between them. In those days, River had just quit drinking alcohol, and sometimes his body would start to crave it really badly. Hugo encouraged River to drink kombucha when he got in a mood like this. Kombucha, while fermented, was non-alcoholic and could sometimes work as a replacement for him. Hugo offered him some, and River reeled back as if Hugo had just asked if he wanted to eat a live mouse. “Ah—No… That’s n—not a good idea right now!” “River, are you okay?” He reached out and put a hand on River’s shoulder. Even with how stiff he’d looked, Hugo still felt surprised when he felt the rigidity of his muscles beneath his fingers. “If you’re feeling sick today, you don’t have to w—“ “I’m fine!” River had insisted, jerking his shoulder away. He hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive, but that was a side of him that just came out sometimes… It was a side he’d NEEDED to have when he still lived on the street, and it was hard to get rid of it now that it was no longer necessary. “Okay,” Hugo said. “If you want to talk later, let me kn—“ River had crouched down again before Hugo could finish his sentence. His foot once more connected with his crotch and he rocked himself against it. “River, what’s—” “I— I have to go piss!” River burst out. Hugo had gone silent for a second. That was all? He just needed to use the bathroom? He’d had Hugo convinced something was hurting him! Although, from the looks of things his bladder probably WAS aching. “Well, why didn’t you just SAY so?” “I have to work now,” River had insisted. “I have to—“ “You HAVE to take a leak,” Hugo interrupted. “Go ahead, I’ll finish this.” River rose to his feet, dancing about between them. “But, I’m not done—“ “I’ll finish it,” Hugo repeated. “Go use the toilet.” After he’d been reassured, River had taken off. And after that day, Hugo had needed to sort of wear River down, help him see that taking a pee break while they were working wouldn’t cause Hugo to fire him, or throw him back onto the street. He had to keep telling River that he was a good worker, that he DID need his help and that he was grateful to have it— That taking a couple minutes to pee every few hours wouldn’t destroy their business. 
In order to do that, Hugo had learned how to spot when River needed to go. The foot thing was the usual sign he looked out for. So now, as Hugo watched River rocking against his heel on the floor of the cabin, he knew immediately what was bothering him. “Have too much fruit punch?” River nodded, cursing his small bladder. He was sure most people could drink a big cup of punch and then have MORE than thirty minutes to get to a toilet before they felt like they were going to explode. “I should have told Duncan to let me go first,” he said. “I didn’t notice I had to go until I heard the water come on.” His eyes kept glancing over to the emptied fruit punch cup. He could pee in it. He certainly didn’t have any issues with urinating into something that wasn’t a toilet. He’d gone in cups when he was homeless, and now that he had a dick it would be a whole Hell of a lot easier to do that right here and now. Before his phalloplasty, peeing had been a complicated and sometimes messy affair even if he was on an actual toilet. The placement and angle of his urethra had been in such a way that most of his pee didn’t flow straight downwards, a lot of it went forwards instead. Often, he’d seat himself on the toilet to pee, and instead of his relief trickling down into the bowl like it was supposed to, it would spray right out through the gap between the seat and the rim, splashing the backs of his knees and puddling on the floor. Before phalloplasty, the cleanest way River could pee would be by hovering over the toilet and tilting his upper body forwards slightly so that his stream would be angled properly. And he’d STILL usually end up getting some down one of his legs. For a long time, he’d thought that that was just normal, that everyone with a vagina had that much trouble peeing neatly. But, then he’d mentioned it to a girl he went to school with, expecting her to say something like “Ugh, yeah. I hate when it hits my knees. It’s the WORST!” But, instead she’d wrinkled up her nose and asked him what the Hell he was talking about. The pissing issue was one of the many things that had suddenly made so much more sense to him when he finally learned the full story of his birth. And it was one of the many things he didn’t MISS now that he’d had his body fixed and put the way that it should have been from the start. Now, all he had to do was point and shoot— So much simpler! His pee always went exactly where he wanted it to go! And, if he wanted it to go into that cup now…. He reached for it and removed the top. “Um… River?” Hugo asked. “You sure you want more to drink when you’re already—“ River shook his head. “Not gonna drink out of it,” he said. “… Oh,” Hugo said after a moment. “Well, uh… Is it that bad? I’m sure Duncan will be out in a minute.” River hesitated, lowered the cup. “I— I mean, I won’t be upset with you if you need to ‘use’ the cup. I’m just saying you probably don’t have to wait THAT much longer to use the toilet.” River hoped that was true. His bladder had loosened up at the idea of peeing in the cup, now that he felt a little too embarrassed to use it, his bladder felt taut and irritated. ‘Pleeease hurry up, Duncan…’ he thought. Duncan, meanwhile, wasn’t hurrying. Duncan loved his dark, silky hair and the regimen he had for washing it was one of the few activities he could still enjoy after the thing with the Organization. He used three different shampoos and conditioners each night, and that tended to take a while. He had a bit of an urge to rush THIS night though, and he cursed himself for not peeing before he got in the shower. Of course, Duncan knew that most people peed in the shower and there wasn’t any shame in that. But, he just had a hard time convincing his body to do that. Something about deliberately fouling a place where he was supposed to be focused on getting clean made his bladder unwilling to relax. He’d only pissed in the shower once in his entire life, and that had been an accident that he couldn’t control. Tonight, he tried again to unclench and pee down the drain. He had to go pretty badly, and the running water, mixed with the feeling of it on his skin, wasn’t helping at all! He crossed his bare legs, pinching his dick shut between them as he rubbed more shampoo into his hair. In the living room, River wasn’t doing much better. He’d forgotten about the open window eventually, so antsy from the need for relief and the urge to walk around. Hugo did not remind him about the window as he paced back and forth with desperation. Maybe, Hugo thought, having something to distract him would help him get used to having the windows open. He felt bad that River’s distraction right now had to be needing to pee, but if it worked… River froze at one point, and Hugo assumed he’d spotted the window again and it was scaring him. But, instead of saying anything about that, River’s hands dropped against his crotch and he bounced in place. Poor guy’s bladder must have been aching… In the shower, Duncan’s bladder sure was aching! He moved onto the final conditioner and ran it through his hair a little more haphazardly than usual. He kept trying to pee where he was, and his bladder stayed stubbornly plugged shut. Finally, he’d gotten the last of the soap washed out of his hair, so he shut the shower off. His urge already felt a little subdued now that the hissing noise had ceased. Outside, River’s ears perked up the second the shower had stopped running. He frantically rushed to the bathroom door and stood outside it, jiggling up and down, certain he’d be able to go in just a moment! Just as soon as Duncan got dressed! Duncan stepped out of the shower and reached for his pajamas, but his bladder picked THAT moment to start dribbling, so he decided getting dressed could wait. He threw himself down onto the toilet seat and immediately his stream fired into the bowl. “Ahhh…” he sighed. Duncan preferred to pee sitting down most of the time. It was relaxing, and considering how stressed he always felt, anything that felt soothing was welcome. He also liked how it allowed him to have a full view of the bathroom— Someone could come up right behind him if he was standing! He knew that was unlikely, but he still preferred to keep an eye on everything when he was in a vulnerable position. A shiver trailed up his spine, the immense relief mixing with the chill of sitting on the cold toilet seat while naked and still damp from his shower. He smiled softly to himself. Maybe not being able to go in the shower was worth it if it meant he got to feel this good afterwards… Just outside the door, River was more or less running in place, his hands gripping between his legs. He’d been so sure Duncan would be out by now! What was taking him so long to get dre— River’s ears picked up on a new sound, the unmistakable hiss of urine flowing into the toilet. “Nnnnhhhh!” River hissed. Nothing was worse than listening to someone else pee while he was about to burst! He considered rushing back to the living room and flooding that cup anyway! Even if Duncan was only going to be a couple more minutes, River wasn’t sure if he had that much time left to spare! Duncan kept sitting on the toilet, emptying his bladder out. He was surprised by how long he was going for. It must have been almost a minute already and he could still feel more pee aching to come out. He finally finished several seconds later and stood up. He flushed the toilet, and as soon as the water began to suck down the pipes, he heard a cringing mewl from outside the door. Confused, Duncan got dressed as quickly as he could and opened the door. “River, are—“ River shoved past him, stomping his feet harshly against the floor as he threw the toilet seat up and pulled his dick out. He didn’t wait for Duncan to leave the doorway, his stream was erupting the second he was in the right position. An intense moan followed it just a second later. “Ahhhh… Fuuuuck…” Duncan blinked a few times. River must have been holding that a while to have been so desperate. Why hadn’t he knocked on the door while Duncan had been in the shower? He would have gotten out and unlocked it for him if it was such an emergency. “River…?” River blearily opened his eyes, “Hm?” He asked, a little dazedly. “You… You know I would have let you in here earlier if you’d just asked, right?” Duncan said. “You could have peed while I was showering.” “I…” River was interrupted by a splatter of piss hitting the rim of the bowl. He turned back towards the toilet, watching his aim more closely. “I didn’t want to rush you, I guess.” “I would have just gotten outta the shower for a second and unlocked the door,” Duncan shrugged. “Not a big deal…” River finally finished and zipped back up. “Oh…” he said. “Er, next time then.” River showered quickly and put his pajamas on. He followed Duncan back to their room and nestled himself in bed beside him. Nights were a challenge for both of them. Not just because they were prone to bad dreams, but because the time it took to fall asleep left them alone with their thoughts, with their memories and their fears about the present. They often ended up talking to each other until their needs for sleep finally won out. Sometimes, it took just an hour, other times it could take several. They never talked about the Organization before bed, since that was what they were trying to keep out of their brains. Usually, they just shared things about themselves. Sometimes, those things were sad, and sometimes not. When River talked about himself, it was usually something sad though. Duncan could tell River needed to share those sad things, so he always allowed him to do so. Duncan was curious about some of the sad things, he just never asked about them. He waited for River to bring them up. “They never even told me, you know?” River said. Duncan did know this part of the story. Or at least, he knew some of it. “About your…” “Yeah, about being intersex,” River said. “My parents never said a word. Lied to me my whole life about it. I told you about the weird way I pissed before my bottom surgery?” Duncan nodded. “My Mom told me that all girls pissed that way, and that I was just a ‘slow-learner’ so that’s why I made a mess. She basically told me I was stupid and that’s why I peed weird, not that I peed weird because my bits got rearranged incorrectly. And, for some reason she still gave me the whole speech about how I had to be prepared for getting a period, when she knew that wasn’t ever gonna happen to me,” River said. “I didn’t want one, and her always reminding me it was coming just scared me shitless. And she even acted all concerned when I was fifteen and still hadn’t gotten it. She was trying to pretend she had no idea anything was different about me.” Duncan held River’s hand. He had never met River’s parents, and never, ever wanted to. His own parents had been terrible people, too. They hadn’t been able to accept he was gay and threatened to disinherit him if he didn’t pretend to be straight. But, at least they hadn’t modified his body when he was an infant and then lied to him about it. He couldn’t even imagine what River must have felt when he finally learned the truth. River cuddled closer to Duncan. “After they kicked me out… I never thought I’d sleep in a warm bed again. It’s… It’s weird but, even after everything that’s happened, I still feel happy most of the time because I finally have people who love me.” Duncan hugged him tighter.
  5. Here is "River", who appears in my latest fic "Hidden", having a major emergency and only sort of making it.
  6. Like the last few stories I've posted, this was originally written using characters from a non-kink book I've written. So, name-changes were made and the setting was kept vague to keep it from being recognizable, I hope the vagueness does not distract from the desperation content. This first chapter is going to have a lot of set-up and backstory, and I hope that doesn’t bog down the desperation too badly. There’s just some things that are necessary for you to know so you understand why the characters are acting like they are. (If it’s confusing, then the gist of it is basically that River and Duncan have survived a horror-movie type scenario and are now hiding from the killers who weren’t ever brought to justice.) If you’re wondering what terms are right when talking about River; It would be accurate to call River both intersex and trans because he was not assigned the gender that he should have been, and many of his life experiences are similar to a trans man’s. *** Honestly, this was probably the happiest River’s life had ever been. Which probably wasn’t saying too much, given that he now lived in constant fear of that Organization tracking him down and finishing the job of executing him. But, other than that, River had an awful lot to be thankful for. He had Duncan now, after all. Duncan was one of the good things to come out of River’s experience with the Organization. Duncan had been captured and imprisoned by them as well, sentenced to death just like River had been. But, they’d grown close in the time they’d spent trapped together, that was probably the only reason they’d been able to break free. When River had lost all hope of saving himself, he’d still had the will to save Duncan. River had also stolen a great deal of money from the Organization on his way out. Enough to pay for his friend Hugo’s Cancer treatment and still have some left over. In a way, River had saved the lives of the two most important people in his word. Hugo, his father-figure, the man that had rescued him from the streets and helped him turn his life around. And Duncan, his boyfriend, the man who gave him a reason to WANT to keep living an honest life. It was the money that had gotten River caught up in the Organization to begin with. He’d been approached at his job by a man claiming to be a TV producer, informing him of a game show he could compete in where the winner would receive a million dollars. River had agreed, desperate to use that money for Hugo’s medical treatment. But, then it turned out the ‘game show’ had been a ruse. Instead of doing a bunch of silly tasks and trying not to get voted off by the other contestants for long enough to win a million dollars, River had been imprisoned by a group of hitmen, alongside several other people who’d also been led to believe that they were going to compete in an ordinary reality show. Their executions had been paid for by people who felt they’d been wronged by them. River and Duncan were the only two to make it out alive, needing to fight their way to freedom as members of the Organization tried to squash them. They’d freed themselves, but not completely. The Organization was clearly very powerful and wealthy, it had been able to operate for decades with no one discovering them or getting away from them with their lives. Of course, now that someone HAD, they’d be dead-set on finding those people. River had been careful. The only person that knew about the Organization, apart from himself and Duncan, was Hugo. At first, River hadn’t intended to tell the older man all the details of how he’d gotten the money, but when he came home, obviously shaken and terrified and with a strange man clinging to him, an explanation was warranted. It was for the best anyway. Hugo insisted that they abandon their home, only take their most essential possessions, and flee somewhere far away. River would have never even thought to suggest that himself, not until after Hugo had had his treatment, anyway. It was a fast move, across the country to a little town in the middle of nowhere. They didn’t even live IN the town, really. Instead, they were deep in the woods that surrounded it. They lived in a log cabin now, an actual log cabin. River hadn’t known those still existed, but it was the best place for them to stay if they wanted to remain off the grid and out of sight. Duncan spent the first three days in the cabin refusing to get out of bed. He’d hidden under the covers, like a child afraid of a monster. Except, in Duncan’s case, the monsters were real. He was too terrified even to move through his new home, and instead remained in bed as if he’d been glued there. River stayed by his side, repeating “You’re safe now… It’s over…” to him, but neither of them believed a word of it. Hugo’s Cancer treatment had been a complete success, he was back in good health fast enough that he could resume working before the remainder of River’s money was gone. River and Hugo had been business partners before River’s run-in with the Organization, selling art pieces and unique furniture. They kept working together after re-starting their company in their new home, but Hugo was now the sole face of the business. River took customer’s orders via phone, but Hugo was the only one to make deliveries now, so that River could stay hidden in the cabin. River missed actually interacting with their customers… He missed a lot of things. Being able to go out to dinner and not check over his shoulder the whole time. Going to the store alone if he needed something. Using the Internet— No longer possible since someone could trace his location through it. He was isolated, and always afraid. Hugo and Duncan were the only people that existed to him anymore, the customers he spoke to on the phone were just disembodied voices that may as well have belonged to no one. Yet, in spite of all that, this was still the happiest River’s life had ever been. He had a roof over his head. He had two people who loved him. He was able to have something to eat every day. He had a bed. He could shower daily. He was warm. That was more than he could have said during most of his life. Even if hiding from the Organization had taken a lot from him, he was still grateful for what he DID have. He’d never stop appreciating it. Some days, he woke up to find Duncan curled around him and think about just how lucky he was… MOST days, River woke up to find Duncan curled around him and thought about how full his bladder was… Like today. The good news was that River hadn’t had a nightmare last night. He wasn’t shown replays of the things he’d endured while in the clutches of the Organization. He didn’t flash back to his days of homelessness. His parents didn’t make any appearances. The bad news was that River’s dream had been absolutely full of water. Lakes, oceans, rainstorms, leaking faucets… And urinals. So many urinals. But, any time River stood in front of one to relieve his extremely bloated bladder, he’d find that the zipper on his pants had disappeared. Not that it was stuck, it was just GONE. And, for some reason, he couldn’t manage to tug his pants down, either. So, he’d just be standing there, bouncing up and down and enduring the sound of all the water flowing around him. He’d eventually escaped the torment by blinking himself awake, but then he realized he still had a problem. Duncan clung to River at night, just as River clung to Duncan. That comfort was needed just as badly as River now needed a bathroom break. But, Duncan was really strong. That was a great thing when they’d been trying to escape from a band of hitmen, but it was NOT so great when River was trying to get out of bed. It was SUPER not-great that Duncan’s arms were squeezing very, very hard against River’s bladder. River felt like the poor organ was being crumpled up like a sheet of paper, and he clenched his thighs and wriggled with discomfort. 
River didn’t want to wake Duncan up. He appeared to be sleeping pretty peacefully. Like River, it was rare for Duncan to have a dream that wasn’t frightening. Many times, one or both of them had woken up in the middle of the night, trembling and biting back screams, hearts pounding away at the memory of the horrors their brains had forced them to relive. They didn’t sleep very well. River had no intention of interrupting Duncan’s badly needed rest. River had every intention to hold his pee until Duncan either woke up, or let go of him. What sucked was that River’s bladder wasn’t exactly the biggest. It never had been. When he was little, he’d seldom lasted through an entire movie without getting up to use the toilet at least once. As he got older, that hadn’t changed. Throughout middle school, if River didn’t use the toilet between every class he would be in a lot of trouble, twisting and squirming his legs beneath his desk as he begged for the clock to move faster. After his parents kicked him out, one thing he learned about homelessness that he’d never actually considered before, was that it wasn’t always easy to find a public bathroom. Sometimes, all the places in the area would be closed for the night or because of a holiday, or they’d look at River’s gruff, unkempt appearance and tell him to leave. Or, they’d say he had to buy something first, with the money River never had. Alleyways and bushes became River’s toilets on more occasions than he could count. That was pretty frightening sometimes. The streets homelessness had led River to were never friendly, especially after dark. Having to make himself vulnerable for a few minutes while his bladder emptied really got his adrenaline flowing. It didn’t help that, in those days, he’d still needed to crouch down in order to urinate. That had been well before his operation. When River was born, his parts were seen as ‘ambiguous’. The doctor that had delivered him had difficulty assigning him a sex. So, at his recommendation, River’s body was surgically altered so that he more closely resembled a female. Being a girl never sat right with him, though. As a teenager, he learned what had been done to him and it was like a bucket of cold water to his face. He wondered what had made that quack pick ‘girl’ anyway, and cried that it had been a mistake. He begged his parents to let him live as the boy he should have been from the start, begged them to let him fix the mistakes, to stop being made to fill his body with Estrogen in pill form. They’d refused. And after he kept trying to argue over the next several months, they eventually kicked him out. He spent years on the streets, eventually turning to drug dealing and prostitution just so he’d be able to afford something to eat. He met Hugo at a bar one night when the man broke up a fight between him and some other guy. River still doesn’t know what Hugo saw in him that night, but for whatever reason he’d offered him a lifeline. Then, a year later, Hugo financed River’s top surgery and phalloplasty, at last correcting the mistakes that had been made when River was born. He would never forget how happy he’d felt when he finally saw himself looking the way he was always meant to. He felt normal for the first time in his life. And, once he’d recovered enough from the phalloplasty he’d been able to pee standing up for the first time, and that had felt so— Now, fidgeting in bed with Duncan coiled around his full bladder, River flinched at the direction of his thoughts. Reminiscing had distracted him for a while, but of course his brain had returned to the subject of urination eventually. The harsh, angry throbs down below ensured that he wouldn’t be able to forget about that topic for long. River looked to the nightstand beside the bed. During those early days, when Duncan had been so terrified he couldn’t leave the bed, problems had arisen when Duncan inevitably had to pee. Duncan had also been pretty much mute at that time, too. Rubbing his back, River hadn’t realized Duncan needed to go until the other was suddenly grasping his crotch with both hands and River could hear a tiny hissing noise as a leak shot out of him. “I’ll take you to the toilet…” River started to say, but Duncan just kept shaking his head. So, River found a different solution. He went to the kitchen, emptied a water bottle, then returned to the bedroom and gave it to Duncan. Duncan had looked so grateful as he’d grasped the bottle that it made River’s chest clench up. How had he not realized that the poor guy was ready to burst before then?! Duncan filled the bottle at a disturbingly rapid pace, the moan of relief he let go of being the first actual noise he’d made in a very, very long time. River had emptied the bottle out in the toilet, then kept it on the nightstand so Duncan could grab it the next time he needed it. That bottle was Duncan’s urinal until he finally felt brave enough to leave the bed. Now, River was cursing himself for just throwing the bottle away once Duncan had no longer needed it. It sure would have been helpful to still have it… River shifted his hips, fighting for a comfortable position that didn’t make it feel like the pee inside of him was about to be tipped out into the sheets. A position like that appeared to be nonexistent, however. With Duncan’s arms squeezing tighter and tighter like an angry boa-constrictor, River’s bladder felt like an orange caught in a juicing machine. Sweat was pooling between his thighs. Or, at least, he hoped it was only sweat. He was fighting against a very powerful urge to cross his legs, fearful of kicking Duncan and waking him up that way. Waves of pee collided against his sphincters, his aching muscles begging him to move around and give them a little reinforcement. His legs actually started to vibrate from how tense he was holding them. He squeezed his eyes closed, deciding that he wanted to try to go back to sleep. Time would move faster if he wasn’t awake, after all. But, after only a minute, he knew this was a futile endeavor. It was just impossible to sleep when he needed the bathroom this badly! He tried to distract himself some other way. He glanced down to take in Duncan’s beloved face. His smooth skin, his dark eyelashes gently resting against his cheeks. His lips slightly parted as he slept so calmly… It was nice to see Duncan get the rest and relaxation he needed. It made River even more determined to hold his pee so that Duncan could continue sleeping. His bladder did not hold the same love for Duncan that River’s heart did. His bladder only held a great deal of urine, and it didn’t want to continue doing that for very much longer. He felt a trickle leave him, and then another, and he wriggled his hand down between his body and Duncan’s so that he could squeeze the tip of his cock. He cringed at the warmth he felt there. He told himself Duncan would probably wake up soon… But, Duncan didn’t. And River kept holding it. Now that he’d tucked a hand against his member, he saw no reason to let go of it again. His desperation eased up a bit with the addition of that pressure. It felt good having his hand there. Felt less like he was going to spring another leak. He tried his hardest to think of something else. He thought about all the things he’d be doing if he didn’t have to worry about the Organization finding out his location. He’d be able to take Duncan out on a real date to a fancy restaurant, and they’d be able to just eat and talk and relax the whole time they were there. They could stay as late as they wanted, even after dark. They could walk to their car in the parking lot, and it wouldn’t even cross their minds that someone could pop out of the shadows and attack them. And— And, if River had had a little too much water with dinner, he could stop the car at ANY gas station and— No, no, no! River shook his head, trying to clear it. Peeing wasn’t a good fantasy, it was just… Just lame! There were so many other, more exciting things to do than just take a piss. Pissing was mundane. Boring. Anything on Earth was more interesting than peeing! Anything at all! Like, if River didn’t have to worry about the Organization, he’d be able to deliver things to customers with Hugo just like he used to! He’d get to see the looks on their faces when they saw they’d made exactly what they wanted, and then he could say to them “We had a real long drive out here. I’m very sorry, could I please use your restroom for just a minute?” And then he’d be able to— NO! God, he was beginning to get a little frustrated! Couldn’t he do ANYTHING aside from fantasize about taking a stupid leak? He could go later, once Duncan was awake. It probably wouldn’t even feel THAT good! It would just be a minute or so of him standing there, at long last being able to relax his body, no more worrying about keeping all his lower muscles tensed up, just letting it all flow out, nice and calmly… Tss! Another jet of pee streamed from his tip, he could feel the warmth and wetness beneath his hand, and— And— God… That loss of control had felt almost good… His poor bladder loosening for just a second had been so… Hss! Again, he was spurting, trickling out little drops of his burden. They just wouldn’t stop, and he couldn’t stop thinking about pee, and about peeing, and about how wonderful he’d feel if he could just PEE, and— “Nnnnh!!” a whine hissed out between his clenched teeth before he could stop it, sweat rolling down his forehead. And Duncan started to blink his eyes. “Mmmf…” the other man murmured, blearily looking up into River’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” River stated, shifting more. He just couldn’t help it! “I didn’t mean to bother you…” It took Duncan a second to really wake up and register the panic on River’s face. When it did, he panicked too. “Wha—What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is— Where’s Hugo? Is someone here? Do they know where we ar—“ “N—No,” River said. “We are safe.” Duncan sat up more, nuzzled against River. “Mmm, good…” he gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Still sleepy…” he murmured. “Was having a nice dream…” That was fantastic, and River was overjoyed that his partner had managed to avoid a nightmare, but he didn’t want Duncan to go back to sleep yet— His arms were still wrapped around him, still pinning him! “Th—That’s good, Duncan,” River stammered. “A—And you can sleep as much as you want, but I have to go piss!” “Hm…?” Duncan opened his eyes again, he unwrapped his arms from River’s body and could now see the hand digging firmly into River’s groin. “Oh…” River nodded gratefully and started to get up. He winced hard and almost bit through his own tongue when his foot touched the ground, and a loud jet of urine sloshed into his boxers. “Ahh—nnnhhh!” Duncan’s eyes cracked open again. “River…?” “Fucking—“ River grunted. He balled the hand not clutching his dick into a fist and slammed it against the nightstand, hissing through his teeth. His bladder was doing somersaults inside his body, constantly letting out little threads and dribbles down his legs. “I can’t— I can’t—!” Duncan crawled out of bed, he very gingerly put a hand on River’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s—“ “I need to go piss!” River blurted out. “I— I know, the bathroom’s just— Can you not walk?” River shook his head back and forth, strands of his hair flying. “I’m going…” “O—Okay, come on… Come on… Lean against me, alright? One step at a time…” Duncan led River out of their bedroom. It was a tricky situation, too slow and River wouldn’t make it in time. Too fast, and the movement would make River burst. The bathroom was right down the hall from their bedroom, Duncan ushered River inside. River was now gripping himself with both hands, and even that wasn’t doing much good. Drips continued spilling, and he was skipping in place. “I can’t—“ he kept repeating. “I can’t, I can’t—“ “You can’t… Move your hands?” Duncan gathered. River shook his head again. Duncan reached and got the toilet open for River, then nudged River’s boxers down a little, as much as he could with River’s hands in the way. “Really close, River…” he murmured. River was able to pull his dick out the rest of the way, and was pissing violently before he could aim it. He splattered the rim of the bowl, and couldn’t bring himself to care as a loud, long moan erupted from his throat. “Ahhhhhhh….” Duncan went still. He’d expected River to hang on until he’d left the room, but apparently that was just one more thing he couldn’t do. River hadn’t ever peed in front of Duncan before— Well, not unless the terror-inspired accident that River had had when they were trying to get away from the Organization could be counted. During those days where Duncan had camped out in bed and relieved himself into a bottle, that bottle had been for Duncan and Duncan alone, River always got up and used the toilet. They also hadn’t done anything more than kiss, cuddle, and feel each other up above their clothes just yet. Duncan had never seen River’s member before, and this was a chance to change that. Was it okay to peek, though? Even just a teeny bit? River hadn’t said if he was ready to be looked at there… Some of the haze of River’s relief started to clear as he carried on draining himself. He blushed when he remembered Duncan was still here. It didn’t bother him that much, though. After his experiences on the streets, he’d started to care a little less about privacy. “Heh, are you watching?” “Um…” Duncan turned. “I haven’t seen your— I mean, someday I want to see—“ He was dying to see River’s cock. He’d fantasized about it enough, he thought it was time to know what it actually looked like. And, part of him was also really curious. He hated himself for it, he was sure it was probably a little disrespectful to think about it this way, but Duncan had never seen a surgically created dick before and couldn’t help but wonder about it. “If you wanna see it, you can,” River told him. Duncan half expected River’s dick to be ENORMOUS, bigger than any other penis he had ever seen. Because, if Duncan had been able to go to a surgeon and request a new dick, HE’D ask for a huge one (“I want it to go down to my knees, Doc!”). But, River’s member was a perfectly average size. Duncan had also wondered if it would be shaped differently. He’d seen the scar on River’s arm only a few times since he usually wore long sleeves to cover it up. After their escape, Duncan had asked about it, and River explained that some of the skin and tissue in his arm had been used to construct his dick. Duncan had then looked very closely at his OWN arm, trying to work out how it could be used to build a penis. River’s dick looked completely normal though, a lot like Duncan’s own, just a different color and with a little scar starting at the head and running down to the base. Duncan felt a bit bad that he’d been expecting it to look so drastically different. “Um…” River blushed as his pee finally came to an end. “Do… Er… Do you like it?” he asked. No one else had ever seen his penis before, save for the surgeons and other doctors, he supposed. The only other times he’d been nude in front of another person had been before his operation. “It looks… Real,” Duncan said, then flinched. “Wait, no. That came out wrong! I’m sorry!” “It’s alright,” River said, tucking his member back away. “I know you meant that in a good way.” “I just thought… They made that out of your arm?” Duncan asked. “Yeah,” River said. “That’s so cool,” Duncan said. “And, you’re happy with it, right?” “Of course I am,” River said. “Finally getting that fixed was one of the few good things to ever happen to me.” “I hope I’m one of the other good things,” Duncan said. “Don’t worry, you are.”
  7. Written for the Omovember Prompt “Free Choice”, so here’s Ethan needing to hold it in all day. This chapter includes a scene involving pee drinking, however this does not occur until the very end and there is plenty of regular desperation and wetting content before then. Alex and Adam are both from my fic “Firsts”, and Kenneth and Dwight appear in “Guard”. *** The door to the restroom in Ethan’s practice was stuck. Completely. The lock had gotten engaged from the inside somehow, and until the locksmith came and fixed it, that door wasn’t going to budge. Ethan had tried his best to open it himself, he’d even tried forcing it down by ramming into it with his shoulder— Which only succeeded in giving him a very sore arm. The door wasn’t going to open, though. After four coffees and an hour since he’d relieved himself at home, naturally when Ethan had discovered the door was stuck, his biggest concern was for James. He turned around immediately and explained the situation to him. “Oh,” James frowned. “And you had all those coff—“ “Today, I want you to go next door to the sandwich shop and use their restroom, alright?” Ethan instructed. “You don’t have to ask. If I’m busy, you don’t have to wait to tell me where you’re going— If I come out here and don’t see you, I’ll know that’s where you went.” “Um, okay, but what if the phone rings while I’m out? And, are YOU gonna be—“ “If that happens,” Ethan said. “And I’m with a patient, it won’t be the end of the world if the machine picks up and we need to call back. I want to be sure that you’re comfortable.” “That’s very sweet, but you have a lot of—“ Ethan kissed him on the cheek, silencing him. “It’s okay, James. I can handle things while you take a few minutes to pee. Don’t worry.” And with that, he was going into his office. James sighed when he saw the door shut. “That’s not what I’m worried about…” he mumbled. Ethan was booked solid today with back to back appointments— Days like this, he hardly had the time to use the restroom that was IN here. No way would he be able to walk all the way next door, relieve himself, and come back without messing up his schedule. And after all that coffee this morning, there was no doubt that Ethan was going to NEED a toilet break before the day was over. It would be impossible for anybody to hold that much for so long— Even Ethan. Ethan apparently hadn’t realized ANY of that, however, because when he came back out of his office he grabbed his water bottle. James understood that Ethan’s throat probably got dried out talking to people all day long, but he thought it would be best to IGNORE the water bottle today. “Um… Ethan?” James ventured. “The door…” “Right, when you have a moment you should call the locksmith to come handle it,” Ethan told him. “But, like I said, it’s FINE if you go next door to pee. Make SURE you do that, alright? I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you think I’ll be upset about you walking out.” James appreciated all the reassurance, even if he HADN’T been worried about Ethan getting angry with him in the first place. “I promise, I’ll go when I need to go, it’s just—“ “Perfect,” Ethan praised. “Need my favorite assistant to be comfy.” “I’m your ONLY assistant…” “That’s because you’re so good that I don’t need anyone else.” James thought that since his job was supposed to be about HELPING Ethan and REMINDING him of things, he should try to steer the conversation back on course. “That’s so sweet, but I’m worried about—“ The door opened and a woman walked in. Ethan smiled warmly at her, “Hello,” he said. “You’re right on time. Ready to start?” The woman nodded shyly and followed him back into his office. James sighed to himself once more. Well. Ethan was GOING to figure out the problem eventually, whether he wanted to or not… James sat at his desk and opened Ethan’s schedule on his computer again, confirming that he really was booked solid today— He’d even decided to forego lunch to squeeze someone in at the last moment. James planned to find some time to feed Ethan at least a few crackers or something today, though. He couldn’t just go without food until dinner! James had fallen in love with Ethan because of how deeply he cared for others, how much he yearned to heal and help people. He had such a big heart that it made James’s own heart swell. But, all those wonderful things about Ethan came with a big negative; Ethan had a lot of trouble realizing that sometimes HE was the one that needed help. He put other people first so much that he neglected to take care of himself. That was James’s job, to be the one that took care of Ethan— to be the one that convinced him it wouldn’t take too long to eat just a few crackers between his patients if it kept him from getting dizzy. 

James wasn’t sure HOW he was going to take care of Ethan today, though. Even if Ethan RAN from this building to the next one, there wasn’t enough time at all between appointments for a bathroom break today. And there was no doubt in James’s mind that Ethan was going to be needing one of those very, very badly before long. James sat there, waiting for the phone to ring, occasionally checking over the schedule for the upcoming few days. The phone stayed silent, which gave James a lot of time to think. He was Ethan’s assistant, and that meant he was supposed to help him with any problem he encountered, that meant he was supposed to be organized and prepared. So, James tried to come up with a plan for what to do when Ethan’s bladder inevitably started to burst. A part of James was a little excited for that moment to arrive, but the rest was just worried. Ethan wasn’t going to enjoy getting desperate at work with no way to relieve himself. He’d just start stressing out, having a hard time actually DOING his job while he felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Maybe James could… Go next door to the sandwich shop, where he knew they sold plastic water bottles. He’d buy one, drink its contents, and save the empty receptacle for later when Ethan needed it. Yes. That was a good idea. Ethan could come behind the desk and refill the bottle between patients, there would be plenty of time to do that since it wouldn’t require walking back and forth. But, he could already hear what Ethan would say. “James, no. I can’t relieve myself behind the desk. What if my next appointment comes in before I’m done and sees that?” James could tell him to hide in his office while he used it instead, he supposed. He wouldn’t get to WATCH Ethan go if he did that, but it would still accomplish the main goal— Getting Ethan an empty bladder. Again, he imagined what Ethan would say. “That’s a better idea, but then I either have to find someplace to HIDE a bottle full of urine inside my office, or carry it out and risk someone walking in and seeing it.” James tried to think of something better, some way to just get rid of all the pee without it leaving a trace. For the tiniest second, his mind flashed back to two moments; the amazing feeling of Ethan accidentally letting go all over his lap, and a particular video he’d watched a long time ago— A desperate man relieving himself into his partner’s mouth. At the time, the idea hadn’t turned James on that much. The desperation in the video had been very hot, and he’d liked the look on the man’s face as he’d let go, but the ‘drinking’ part had been outside of James’s interest. And it still didn’t REALLY turn him on, he just thought it would solve the problem. He’d take care of Ethan, whatever it took. He kept thinking, picturing how Ethan would react to that suggestion. “Awww, poor Ethan!” he’d begin cheerfully, watching as his partner jiggled around and held himself. “You don’t have time to go next door, do you? Well, I tried to think of somewhere else you can pee, and if we go into your office, then you can do it in my mouth so that there won’t be any evidence left behind!” After this, there would be a heavy, heavy silence before Ethan would just turn around and pretend James HADN’T said that. That was definitely his worst idea yet… 

James could barely believe he’d even just thought of it! He liked to help Ethan and make him feel comfortable, but… He wouldn’t do it like THAT, would he?! He WAS strangely okay with the idea of Ethan pissing in his mouth, and that confused him.

 If it was just that the idea aroused him, if it was that it got him horny to think about it, James would UNDERSTAND himself a little better right now. It would be simple; Just, James had a piss kink, so it would get him off if Ethan peed in his mouth. But, the struggle was how the idea DIDN’T arouse him at all; Pee-drinking wasn’t one of his interests, it wasn’t part of the fetish for him. Desperation was, wetting was, relief was, being peed ON was, as he’d recently learned. But… Drinking? It wasn’t. It didn’t do anything for him. As much as it had weighed on his mind, his dick was still soft and the electric tingles he felt when something turned him on weren’t happening. All he felt was a desire to HELP Ethan today if he couldn’t hold his bladder. The thought of drinking Ethan’s piss wasn’t making him horny, it was just making him think ‘Well, if that’s what has to happen, I’ll do it for him.’ Just this… Sort of acceptance that he’d do whatever it took to get Ethan comfortable. And he was pretty sure that ‘Well, fine. I guess I’ll drink his piss later if he needs me to.’ wasn’t a normal thought to be having. Before he could agonize over the bizarre new direction of his thoughts any further, the door to Ethan’s office opened. His patient stepped out and James took her payment. “Thank you!” he said to her brightly, trying to banish the odd idea from his mind. James turned to look at Ethan as he left the office, too. He watched Ethan move down the hallway towards the restroom. He watched Ethan grasp the doorknob and try to turn it. Then, he watched Ethan stumble back and tap his forehead a little. “Heh… That was silly…” Ethan mumbled. “You okay, Ethan?” James called. “Yeah,” Ethan said, walking closer to the desk. “You know, the funny thing? I was THINKING about how the door was stuck as I tried to open it— You’re going to use the toilet next door, right?” “Yes, don’t worry about me,” James said. ‘At least, don’t worry about me because of THAT,’ he added to himself. He still didn’t know what was wrong with him, why he would even consider for half a second— ‘Ethan’s a therapist, he can probably tell you what’s wrong with your imagination today,’ James thought. But, that would mean telling Ethan what he’d been thinking about. Plus, Ethan had told him plenty of times “I can give you all the advice you want in our day to day life, of course. And I’m always happy to hear what you’re feeling, or hold you if you’re sad. But, I can’t be your therapist, it wouldn’t be a good idea. I can’t treat someone that I have a relationship with, my own emotions would get in the way. If you would like a therapist, I can recommend someone else to you.” Would asking Ethan about this really count as therapy, though? It didn’t matter, James didn’t want to tell him at all! “A—Are you okay?” James asked finally. “Fine,” Ethan said, swaying slightly. “I… Wish I’d had less coffee, though.” He looked at the clock. “Maybe there’s time for me to—“ Before he could finish, his next patient walked in. His expression brightened right away, and he stopped his nervous foot-hopping, appearing as though he’d never even started. “Ah, hello! Right on time,” he said. “Come with me.” And again, he was returning to his office. James looked back at his computer. Maybe he should look ‘I’d let my boyfriend pee in my mouth if he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Is that normal?’ up on the Internet. Probably not… Why was he worrying about this, anyway? Even if Ethan did end up getting unfathomably desperate today, and even if James did offer himself as a solution, no way would Ethan AGREE to it. It wasn’t going to happen. And, if it did, James was likely to be a lot LESS okay with it in real life than he was in his imagination. He knew he was being silly anyway; He was bothered because… He WASN’T bothered by something? That didn’t even make sense! He had to think about something else. But, over an hour of thinking about piss had gotten to his bladder, and he realized his hips were shimmying a little in his seat. He needed to go… Ethan had said it was fine for him to pee next door, and he wasn’t going to argue— No way could HE hold it all day with his tiny bladder. Ethan had also told him he didn’t need to SAY he was leaving, but he grabbed a post-it and wrote a note for Ethan anyway. Just in case. Then, he took his break. He returned shortly after, returned to his computer, returned to waiting for a phone call. He tried NOT to return to his earlier thoughts, but they crept in from time to time anyway. Ethan saw his patient to the door a little while later, and James noticed a very hesitant bounce in his step. He knew the other was starting to fill up, starting to become uncomfortable. Ethan anxiously opened the front door and stepped out, and James winced when he saw Ethan bump into his next patient. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Did something come up? Do we need to reschedule?” Ethan took a step back and smiled. “No, you don’t need to do anything. It’s alright. Today is fine.” He shifted slightly, hitching his hips so imperceptibly that only James could notice it. Today was NOT fine for Ethan… “If you’re having an emergency you need to take care of,” the woman said. “That’s okay.“ James saw Ethan reddening at her word-choice. Ethan may not have been having an ‘emergency’ yet, but he was approaching one, that was for sure. “No, I wasn’t leaving for anything important, I was just gonna go next door for a second to get something, but it can wait. No big deal.” He laughed slightly. “I’m here for you!” “Alright,” the woman nodded, and Ethan led her back to the office. Between appointments, James saw Ethan growing more and more antsy. He’d rub his hands nervously against his thighs as he greeted patients, anxiously adjust his glasses or step lightly in place. By noon, when Ethan would ordinarily take a lunch break if he was able to, James could tell he needed to go bad. 
Ethan stood beside James’s desk, twisting from side to side. “Oh, of course the door had to get stuck on a day when I have to skip lunch…” he mumbled. “You’ve been going, right? Haven’t been holding it?” James looked down at his fingernails, drumming them against the desk. Should he really tell Ethan that he’d peed three times today so far? Wouldn’t that make him feel worse? “James…” Ethan prompted. “I’ve… I’ve been going,” James promised. Ethan nodded, continuing to shuffle his feet. “Maybe if I run as fast as I c—“ The door opened again, and Ethan made himself go still. He managed it for the most part, his spine knotting with tension and making him shake a little. His bladder was feeling heavy and tight above his dick, and he was blushing as he tried not to focus on that. “Hello,” he greeted the two people whom had walked in. Ethan really wasn’t SUPPOSED to have favorite patients, but sometimes that happened anyway. Alex was one of those times. He was such a sweet young man, and seeing him interact with his boyfriend Adam always warmed Ethan’s heart. “Right on time,” Ethan told them. Alex shyly stood behind Adam, whom clasped his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. This was how the two usually looked for the first few minutes when they visited Ethan. But, Alex always opened up more once they were in his office. “Thank you for finding time,” Adam told him. “I’m sorry if we’re making you miss lunch.” “Don’t worry about me,” Ethan said, struggling to ignore the sweat rolling down his back. His need for a pee was getting more insistent. “I’ll have a snack when I get a chance.” He wasn’t the least bit hungry right now though. His bladder was too full for him to notice if his stomach felt empty. “Alex, I’m happy to see you today.” Alex came out a little further from his boyfriend’s shadow and smiled a little. He nodded, “Th—Thank you…” “Are you ready to start?” “Yes… Yes, sir,” Alex said. “Alex,” Ethan said gently. “We’ve talked about that, you may call me Ethan.” “S—Sorry, sir— I mean— Sorry, Ethan.” “Don’t apologize,” Ethan said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He led Alex to his office and sat down in his chair, subtly shifting his thighs against it to try and ease away some of his need. “Sit down, Alex.” Alex sat on the couch across from him, nervously twiddling his fingers. “It’s okay,” Ethan soothed. “The only reason I don’t want you to call me ‘sir’ is because you’ve told me that it’s what—“ “It’s what Papa made me call him sometimes,” Alex filled in. “And… You don’t want me to see you the way I saw Papa?” “Exactly,” Ethan said. Alex was an interesting person. He’d been raised inside of a cult, one which was based in following Biblical principles and viewing large families as a blessing from God; Two things which sounded fine at first, but were darker in practice. The father of any household was to be viewed as superior, and to always be obeyed; The cult claimed that God spoke through the father. Children were to be homeschooled with a very specific curriculum that focused exclusively on the Bible. Girls were to be trained to become dutiful wives and mothers and to birth as many children as she could for the man selected by her father. Girls were permitted to only wear dresses or skirts that reached the ankles and could never cut their hair. Boys could seek employment as they got older, but only within the church or at businesses the church approved of. Boys weren’t allowed to have long hair, wear jeans, or look at women that were dressed ‘immodestly’. Higher education was forbidden. Music and dancing were banned. Children were seldom allowed to leave the home unless it was to attend church. The father was encouraged to use corporal punishment if his wife or children ever disobeyed him or the rules set out by the church. Alex hadn’t known anything about that was odd until Adam’s family moved in next door to his. Alex had started to question many of the things he’d been taught about outsiders, and about himself. He’d told Ethan his big breakthrough moment was when he realized that a whole bunch of the things his father said WEREN’T actually things that Jesus had said. “Jesus never said that all music is evil,” Alex had told Ethan. “Only Papa said that.” It had been very, very hard for Alex to leave, however. Complicating it further, Adam had helped Alex learn something important about himself; Adam was trans, and after he came out to Alex and explained everything, Alex had had another big breakthrough moment where he understood what the ‘icky, bad feelings’ he’d been experiencing all his life actually meant, and that he could do something that made them go away. The world outside was frightening to Alex, transitioning AND starting a brand new life in a new place at the same time was a lot to deal with. Plus, Alex had so much to work through regarding his past. Adam helped him where he could. Adam was always beside him and helping him feel safe in new spaces. Adam helped him explore his identity and taught him that there wasn’t one, single ‘right’ way to be trans. Adam held him when he was feeling hurt and upset… But, there were things Adam COULDN’T do. Adam had never been through the kinds of things Alex had gone through, many of them were unimaginable to him. Adam could hug him after a nightmare and repeat to him “It’s okay, I’m here now, it’s over…” But that wasn’t enough. Alex needed more, and Adam eventually had recognized that he couldn’t be Alex’s ONLY support, because there were some things Adam didn’t know HOW to help with. So, that was where Ethan had come in. He’d helped Alex out a lot, making him feel less insecure about how little he knew of the world. (“It was your father’s job to prepare you for these things. He failed you, and that isn’t your fault. You can still catch up, it’s never too late. It isn’t a race.”) He’d helped Alex get his prescription for testosterone, and wrote the letter which cleared him for his top surgery. He’d talked to Alex about his past, so he could better understand which parts of it hadn’t been ‘normal’. He’d talked to Alex about his beliefs, helped him determine how many of them truly came from him, and how many of them had just been PUT there. Alex had a lot of fears, a lot of insecurities, and that was understandable. So when Adam had called the previous evening and apologetically explained that Alex was going through a very hard time and needed an extra session as soon as possible, Ethan hadn’t thought twice about squeezing him in. Speaking of ‘squeezing’ however, his bladder was doing an awful lot of that right now. Not that it mattered. Ethan was going to wait. Ethan was going to hold it. Ethan was going to ignore the awful tugging going on around the base of his cock and he was going to be THERE for Alex right now. He was going to be there for his next patient too, and the one after that, and so on. He was going to hold it until the day was finished, and then he was going to head next door and relieve himself at last. He was going to do all of that, and his bladder was just going to have to accept it. Ethan tensed all his muscles and looked Alex in the eyes. “How are you doing today?” he asked. Alex quietly looked down, beginning to fidget with his fingers again. Ethan fidgeted, too. He shifted in his chair, squirming his thighs and trying to find a more comfortable position. But, there didn’t seem to be one that existed anymore. His belt was cutting into the small, round swell resting painfully between his hip bones— WHY had he worn a belt today? He usually got away without one… He wanted to take it apart, make it stop crushing him. Would Alex notice that? Therapists weren’t supposed to appear anxious and uncomfortable, they were supposed to look calm, so that their patients could feel calm. “Alex…?” Ethan asked again. “Is there something you’d like to talk to me about? It can be anything you want.” Alex glanced back down at his lap. “I… I… Adam wanted me to come in today, because of how I… Did something.” “Oh,” Ethan said, shifting backwards and trying to escape from the painful pressure of his belt. This didn’t work, of course; The belt moved right along with him. He had a feeling he knew where Alex was going; Guilt was a very powerful emotion to Alex, feeling as though he’d done something wrong— no matter how minor— could make him spiral into a panic. Many times, Ethan had explained to him that feeling guilt after a mistake was natural and normal, but that the healthiest way to assuage guilt was to apologize, not to beat oneself up over it. Most often, Ethan had to talk Alex down from believing he was going to burn in Hell for little things, like accidentally forgetting to pay for a stick of gum. Ethan waited for Alex to continue, but he didn’t. “Alex, it’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’ll never judge you.” “I… I…” Alex’s lip trembled. “I… I wet the bed…” His face was scorched pink. “Mine and Adam’s… And, I didn’t mean to!” “Of course you didn’t mean to,” Ethan said soothingly. This wasn’t something he particularly wanted to discuss while his bladder continued to knot up inside him, but if Alex NEEDED to talk about it, he’d simply cross his legs and bear it. His hips shook a bit with tension as he continued; “Bed-wetting is completely involuntary. You can’t fully control what your body does when it’s asleep.” “But…” Alex was obviously fighting hard not to cry. “I’m too old to be doing that…” Ethan squeezed his legs together, ankles rubbing against one another, relishing the small bit of relief this gave him. There was heat building in his cheeks, whether from the pressure he was fighting back or from the way he’d decided to respond to Alex, he didn’t know. “Hey, want to know a secret?” “Um… Okay,” Alex said shyly. “Alright,” Ethan said. His bladder sent a spasm up through his body, urine pushing tightly against the base of his cock as he recalled an incident that had occurred a few months back. “A little bit ago, I wet the bed, too.” “You did?” Alex’s eyes widened. “I did,” Ethan nodded. “A few times, actually. And I’m even older than you. Age doesn’t matter with these things, they just happen. Something scary happened to me that made me have bad dreams, and that would make me have accidents. Stress and fear are actually big triggers for bed wetting. Have you been feeling anxious lately?” Alex looked away. He was breathing easier now, and clearly still surprised by Ethan’s admission. “Well, when I… When I wet myself, I’d been having a bad dream, too.” “Understandable,” Ethan said, a shivery pulse rippling through his full bladder and causing him to squirm his body from side to side for a moment. “Do you remember what the dream was about?” “Well, at first, it was normal… Just, I had to go pee very badly, and I couldn’t find a toilet where I was,” Alex explained. At that statement, Ethan subtly inched a hand against his left thigh and gave it a tiny pinch. He felt very silly a moment later when he didn’t wake up. He’d doubted that this was a dream— everything seemed much too normal for that to be the case. His body just wished that he could escape from his building desperation that easily. The little knotted bump below his belly-button felt firm and painful. Alex continued, “And, Adam was with me to help me look, which made me feel better. But, there were also all these fountains and rivers, and other stuff that kept making me have to go even worse.” Ethan’s fingers curled around the arm-rests of his chair, white-knuckled as he bent forward and bit back against a soft groan. His bladder was screaming at him to move, to bounce his knees, to stomp his feet, but Alex would definitely notice if he did all that. He’d look like he didn’t care about Alex’s problems and was eager for him to stop talking. That wouldn’t do at all! So, he forced his feet to stay glued to the floor, ignoring all the angry pulses from within demanding he allow them to squirm. Alex continued describing his dream, all the watery imagery he’d endured, a few moments where he’d found a restroom only for something about it to be wrong and off and unusable, how his dream self had gotten grotesquely swollen the longer he tried to find relief. “And— And, then… I turned around and Adam wasn’t with me anymore.” “So, now you felt lost,” Ethan said, without noticing it he’d stood halfway out of his seat, his ass barely touching it anymore as his body vibrated from the constant spasms. “Yeah,” Alex said. “I don’t like it when he’s not there…” “We have talked before about this; Your separation anxiety,” Ethan said. “It is very normal that you feel frightened being apart from the person that helped you escape your old home. You see him as a bit of a guide now, don’t you? Your protector?” “Yes,” Alex agreed. “I need someone to tell me how to do stuff, I mess up if I’m alone…” “So, being in an unfamiliar place without him… Of course it scares you. But, it’s also good for you to learn HOW to go places on your own so that you’ll see you really DON’T mess things up as often as you think. I know you’ve gone out by yourself a couple times now, and I want you to continue doing that, it will get less frightening the more times you do it. I promise.” “O—Okay,” Alex said. “I’ll try… But… Um… In the dream, when I saw he wasn’t there anymore, I got very scared. And I tried to find him, but instead… I— I found Papa.” “Oh… Well, that’s normal too. We often have dreams recreating our bad memories.” “It wasn’t completely a memory,” Alex said. “The first part sort of was, he was yelling stuff he’d yelled at me before. About how Adam ‘ruined’ me and turned me into an ‘abomination’…” “That isn’t true,” Ethan promised. “Adam helped you, and you’re a wonderful person.” “And… When he got done yelling, he opened a door and shoved me in, and I fell for a long time. When I stopped, I was in Hell… And it was so… I could hear Papa yelling about how I ‘belonged’ there and would have to stay forever, and… I was so scared that I finally woke up, but the sheets were all wet, and I felt so… I felt so terrible. I cried a lot.” Ethan legs shook from top to bottom as he thought that over. His own relationship with God was complicated. He’d been raised in a church, but no longer followed any organized religion while retaining a belief that something must have existed out there to look after the universe. Hell had often been used as a threat for him growing up as well, but not to the extent it had obviously been used against Alex. “Alex, no God would ever send you to Hell.” “Because He’ll forgive me?” “Because there’s nothing TO forgive you for,” Ethan told him. “You’ve done nothing wrong." Alex started to shake again. “B—But, Papa said… Papa said that— That me being this way means I have to go to Hell, and it doesn’t matter what else I do…” Ethan dug his nails harshly into the material of his chair, hitching his hips as he fought to hang onto all the urine that was threatening to erupt from him. He took a very slow breath, his bladder shuddering hard as his skin stretched over it. The conversation he was about to have with Alex was so very important, Ethan had to hope that his bladder would ALLOW him to have it. “Alex, have you ever heard the term ‘spiritual abuse’ before?” Alex shook his head. “No, what’s that?” “It’s a certain form of psychological abuse,” Ethan explained. “You know what psychological abuse is, right?” “I think so…” Alex said. “It’s like when somebody yells at you and calls you mean things, right?” “That’s part of it,” Ethan nodded. “It’s anything done to intentionally make another person feel things such as fear, sadness or isolation. Often, the abuser will have a position of power over the victim.” “Papa made me feel scared and sad all the time,” Alex said. “And… He definitely kept us all isolated.” “With spiritual abuse, the abuser will use religion as a way to control their victim,” Ethan continued. “They will use religious texts to instill fear, or to justify harming and forcing another person to remain obedient to them, sometimes making suggestions that they are ‘divine’ in some way.” “Papa said that God spoke through him…” Alex mumbled. “Your father used religion to control you,” Ethan said. “He used the fear of Hell to control you. How often did he tell you that you were going to Hell growing up?” “Oh…” Alex put a hand to his lips. “I don’t know… It was all the time. When I was five, I accidentally tripped and broke a plate I’d been carrying. Papa got mad and said I’d go to Hell because I was supposed to respect my parents and all of their possessions. I cried a ton, I was so scared. I didn’t sleep hardly at all for a few days because I couldn’t calm down, I kept thinking I was going to just die and go to Hell right away.” “That wasn’t right,” Ethan told him. “I admit I have not read the Bible through completely, but I doubt there are any passages saying you go to Hell for breaking a plate— Especially if it wasn’t on purpose. Your father wanted you to be perfect and never make mistakes or do anything he didn’t agree with, so he threatened you with the ultimate punishment to get you to obey and fear him. That was very wrong of him, and it wasn’t your fault.” “I wish that I didn’t still have nightmares about him,” Alex said. “That’s not your fault either,” Ethan promised. “When we go through a trauma, it will often come back to us in our—“ “And I wish… I wish I hadn’t peed the sheets.” With that, Ethan’s body tensed up again. His chest, his shoulders, his legs, his abdomen, every inch of him was trying to squeeze the piss out into his boxers. He’d been able to ignore his bladder for a bit when he’d been explaining the concept of spiritual abuse to Alex— Helping Alex understand the specifics of what had been done to him was a good distraction— But, now Alex just HAD to remind him that peeing was a thing people did sometimes; A thing Ethan had to do right NOW. “It is perfectly alright that you had an accident,” he said once more. “Everyone has them…” Ethan’s bladder throbbed with the reverberations of every word he said. For a very crazed second, he considered letting it go right where he was sitting, as if to PROVE to Alex that everyone had accidents sometimes. He shook his head frantically, trying to get rid of the awful idea. Pissing himself in front of a patient was utterly unacceptable. “I cried a lot when I woke up…” Alex explained. “I think that’s why Adam got so worried about it. He kept rubbing my back and holding me, all the stuff he normally does when I’m sad, and I just couldn’t stop…” Waves of urgency pumped through Ethan’s bladder, and a cramping spasm caused him to fold over a bit— Only for a moment. He was back upright so quickly he doubted Alex had even really noticed. “Bed-wetting is a very big deal for you,” he stated. “Y—Yes,” Alex nodded. “At home… With Papa…” “Were you punished for wetting the sheets when you lived with him?” Alex nodded. “Yes. He’d hit me for it. And then he’d make me put my sheets out to dry outside, and I’d have to watch and think about what I did. I wouldn’t be allowed to drink during the day after, and I’d have to stay outside where it was usually really hot. Then, once night came, I’d have to stay awake, to keep me from doing it again.” Ethan shut his eyes. Then squeezed them closed tighter as a wave of need flushed through his body. “Th—That was… That was not the appropriate way to handle it,” he said gently. “You understand that, right?” Alex nodded. “Yeah… Adam… He told me when his little brother started peeing the bed, their parents just had him use rubber sheets until it stopped. They didn’t get mad. And Adam didn’t get mad at me either, even though… Even though some of it got on him…” “Adam is very sweet,” Ethan said. “I didn’t think he’d be angry.” “He wasn’t at all,” Alex nodded. “That’s why I’m confused. I don’t know why I broke down like that. Especially after Adam started hugging me and telling me that it was okay and everything. I shouldn’t have been so upset.” “I think I know what happened,” Ethan said. “I’ve told you before how our past tends to stick with us, haven’t I?” “Yes.” “So, when you had an accident like that again, that brought back all of those memories and feelings— It brought back all of the shame that your father forced you to feel. When you wet the bed at your father’s, did you cry then?” “Yes, but then he’d hit me and yell at me to stop.” “You were made to hold in your natural responses to your emotions,” Ethan explained. “But, when you wet the bed the other night, you did it somewhere safe where you weren’t going to be punished. You were finally able to react to those feelings the way you’ve always needed to, and since you’ve restrained yourself for so long, it must have felt more intense, right?” “S—So I couldn’t stop crying BECAUSE Adam was being nice and not getting angry?” “I think so,” Ethan said. “Your brain was trying to clear out something that had been stuck inside of it for too long. It wasn’t helping you anymore to hang onto it.” His bladder rolled within him, heat flaring down his length and ending with an intense, stinging fire at his urethral opening. His bladder was also trying to clear out something that had been stuck inside of it for too long, and it was taking everything he had to hang onto it and not let his desperation become obvious. He pressed his thighs together tight, pinning his aching penis between them. Alex nodded. “I guess that makes sense… I don’t have to be scared to cry anymore, so I do it more when I have to.” “Ex—Exactly…” Alex looked up further now, his eyes stilled on Ethan for a second. One thing Ethan didn’t realize about Alex was that he was quite observant when it came to certain things. Alex had taken care of his younger siblings all his life, he’d assisted with potty-training them. It had taught him to watch out for signs one of them needed to go, and that meant he usually had a very easy time telling when someone had to pee. Something about the look on Ethan’s face… “Are you okay?” Alex asked. “H—Huh?” Ethan squeaked, surprised. He’d thought he’d been doing really well keeping his need hidden… His feet were still stuck to the ground, he wasn’t bouncing… Apart from the intense stiffness in his body and the way his hands clung to the chair’s armrests, he couldn’t think of any reason anybody but James would be able to tell! “I’m okay, and YOU don’t need to worry about ME.” “Oh…” Alex looked away, blushing. “I guess I was being kinda silly… If I spend a lot of time with the little kids, I start… Paying attention to weird stuff.” “That’s okay,” Ethan said. “But, I’m fine.” He did not ask what kind of ‘weird stuff’ it was that Alex had been referring to. He was worried that he already knew the answer. “We’re nearly out of time, so I hope I helped you feel a little better about what happened.” “You did,” Alex promised. “It’s— It’s okay that I had an accident.” “Right,” Ethan confirmed. “And it’s okay that it made you upset.” Alex stood up from the couch. “Thank you, Ethan,” he said. “I feel a lot better.” 

Ethan started to stand up as well, and— HOLY SHIT! No, bad idea, bad idea! He was nearly going right now! Right where he was sitting! His bladder couldn’t take it anymore! So much coffee, so much fucking liquid and nowhere to release any of it! Ethan’s legs crossed double as he squirmed like mad. One hand landed on the armrest trying to yank himself up onto his feet. He managed to pull himself into a partial squat above his seat before his bladder convulsed and made him fall back down— Which naturally just sent an intense earthquake of a spasm through him that made him whimper loud enough for Alex to look back at him. “Um…” Alex murmured. “Are you sure you’re—“ “Ah, my— My feet fell asleep!” Ethan said. “I sat still for too long, whoops!” Trying to steady himself, he launched to his feet and prayed for his control to stay intact. His bladder reacted to the change in position by bolting down hard against his trembling, pained sphincter. His feet jabbed harshly against the floor beneath him. “G—Gotta… Wake ‘em back up again!” he commented, trying to brush aside what was now a much more obvious pee dance. “I need a minute.” “Okay…” Alex said awkwardly. He left the office. And now Ethan had privacy… His eyes darted around the room, and stilled upon the handkerchief resting on the end-table beside the couch, placed there in case a patient began to cry and needed to blow their nose. Ethan shot for the handkerchief and guiltily wrapped his hands around it. He shouldn’t be doing this— He— He— A pulse of pee erupted from his tip, and he unzipped his pants, freeing his dribbling dick. He wrapped the handkerchief around it, allowed his urine to pump into the material, quickly saturating it to the point his hand was getting wet. He shifted the handkerchief around, every bit of it becoming drenched rapidly. He had to make himself stop, he’d only barely let himself pee for a few seconds, and now all he could feel were the painful throbs of a bladder that had been taunted with just the tiniest taste of relief. There were other cloths in here. Once one was used, he replaced it with another until he could get them home to be washed. THIS particular one had been used a lot more thoroughly than he’d ever wanted it to be. He’d probably just throw it out, he couldn’t have any of his patients touch a thing that he’d peed into, even if it HAD been washed. He stumbled to the other side of the room, pulled open a drawer. Maybe he could just let himself piss into a few more of the cloths, just enough to take the terrible edge off of his despera— He caught sight of his watch. He didn’t have much more time before his next appointment was supposed to start. No. He couldn’t do this. It was a terrible idea anyway, he couldn’t just go ruining all the handkerchiefs just because he had to pee really bad. He forced himself to the door. His entire ordeal alone within his office had barely lasted half a minute, but it felt like it had been longer… He stepped outside, and saw Alex turning to walk down the hall towards the restroom. “O—Oh,” he called out. “Alex…” Alex stopped. “You gotta go first?” he asked. Ethan’s face scorched bright red, a blush spreading all the way down to his neck. The shameful spurts he’d released into the handkerchief had lent him a momentary respite, but the memory added to the terrible embarrassment he felt now. “Ah, no,” he said. “The door is just stuck today, I’m afraid.” Alex looked at him, wearing an expression of dawning comprehension. “Ohhhhhh,” he said. “I’m sorry.” “It’s alright,” Ethan assured. “The locksmith will come fix it tomorrow.” Ethan watched Alex run to Adam’s side and hug him. He watched Adam give him a soft kiss on the cheek, and it felt… It felt good to see. Ethan had so often been too frightened to show much affection to James in public, it made him happy to know Alex recognized this as a very safe place. It made him feel good enough that he managed to forget his bladder for a second. Just for a second, though. “Can you drive extra fast on the way home, please?” Alex asked his boyfriend. “Um, as fast as I can,” Adam said. “What’s the matter?” “I…” Alex blushed, lowered his voice. “The bathroom door is stuck here,” he explained. “You can go next door,” James informed brightly. Ethan flinched. Oh, how much he’d love to ‘go’ next door right now… He looked at the clock. There were only a couple minutes left. He couldn’t make it back in time. There was no way. Adam took Alex’s hand again and they left out the door. Ethan tried not to feel jealous of the fact Alex was about to pee… Oh… Ethan needed to go! He was full, his bladder was cramping. His reprieve from his Hellish desperation was over, the piss he’d let go of in his office felt like nothing now. Mere drops compared to the oil-drum of urine flaring inside his bladder. He HAD to go, he just HAD to. “James,” he said. “I—“ He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He knew he needed help now, and James’s entire job WAS to help him, to take care of the things Ethan couldn’t take care of for himself. Ethan wished he could somehow pop out his bladder and HAND it to James. James had all the time in the world to run next door and empty it out for Ethan. Then, he could come back with it all nice and drained and Ethan could put it back where it belonged. Human beings were pathetic. Why hadn’t they evolved the ability to do that yet? “Ethan?” James asked. “You oka—“ Ethan didn’t let him finish. He rushed down the hall to the restroom, determined to force the door open any way he could. He grabbed the doorknob and started to yank on it, tugging as hard as he could, trying to break it apart so that the lock would shatter. His legs twisted and coiled, struggling for purchase against the floor. “Nnnnh, come on…” he mumbled. “I’ve held it long enough, let me go…” The door didn’t budge. It remained a solid, silent barrier that didn’t care about his problem at all. Another tug, a furious, harsh one that made his knuckles whiten. ‘Please…’ he thought. ‘It’s gonna start coming out again soon…’ He didn’t even notice his next patient had arrived until he suddenly heard a voice behind him. “Um… Doctor, what are you doing?” Ethan jumped back, a spurt loosening into his boxers and warming his crotch. He tried not to show any reaction to his momentary loss of control. “H—Hello, Kenneth.” he said. He looked to Kenneth’s side. “Hello, Dwight. Good afternoon. Nice day we’re having.” “Is something wrong with your door?” Kenneth asked. “It’s just a little stuck,” Ethan said. He was stepping in place. He couldn’t help it anymore. His bladder was DEMANDING that he MOVE. “The locksmith comes tomorrow though, so it’s not a big deal.” Kenneth looked down at Ethan’s feet. “Is that the door to… Um…” “Is that where your toilet is?” Dwight interrupted. Ethan nodded with a blush. “It is,” he admitted. Dwight looked from Ethan’s crossing legs to the potted plant in the corner beside the restroom door. “Why don’t you go pee on the plant?” he asked. Ethan stared at him, blushing from head to toe. Was he being serious? Was he trying to tease him for some reason? “It’s YOUR plant,” Dwight said. “We’re the only ones in here, except for your assistant. Kenneth and I can turn around if you want.” Oh… Oh, goodness… He WAS being serious! Ethan couldn’t do THAT! He was at WORK, he was supposed to act professional when he was at work! Urinating— especially somewhere that wasn’t even a toilet— in front of his patient wasn’t professional at ALL. “I—“ 
“You don’t want your assistant to see you pee?” Dwight gathered. Oh, God… Ethan wasn’t sure if he could get any redder. He felt the corners of his lips tugging, and a painful pressure bubbling in his chest. ’Don’t laugh,’ he ordered himself. ‘Don’t you DARE laugh right now. You laugh, you explode…’ Ethan heard a choked sound, and then a snort. His eyes flicked over to the desk, seeing that James had been unable to hold in his giggling at Dwight’s last comment. And that made Ethan realize that he actually COULD manage to blush harder. Dwight looked over his shoulder at James. “Huh? What’s so funny?” He turned back to Ethan. “I mean, he can step outside for a second, right? We all can if it makes you feel better. You don’t HAVE to hold it.” “Dwight…” Kenneth sighed out, he was turning almost as red as Ethan. “And, I… I’m— I’m fine,” Ethan said. “Don’t worry about me. I can hold it.” “Are you worried about making a mess on the carpet?” Dwight guessed next. “I had that problem before, but if you aim right at the center of the pot, that will help it all stay where it should.” “It took you too long to figure that out…” Kenneth mumbled softly. “N—No,” Ethan stared down at his feet, wondering how the patient of his with the most severe case of Paruresis he’d ever encountered in his career could have a friend that was so ridiculously open about the topic of urination. Maybe if the pair fused together somehow, then they’d balance each other out and just have an average attitude about peeing— Neither open enough to cause other people to feel awkward, nor shy enough to be unable to go in public settings. “I’m not going to relieve myself on the plant.” “Okay, suit yourself,” Dwight shrugged. He kept glancing at the plant, though. “Is it okay if I—“ Ethan pointed to the front door with a sigh, “Outside, turn left,” he instructed. “Use the toilet at the sandwich store.” Dwight nodded. He started to leave, then stopped himself. “Um… Why don’t YOU do that?” “My schedule,” Ethan answered. “I need to begin your friend’s appointment now.” Truthfully, he should have started it a couple minutes ago. Dwight had spent so long trying to convince Ethan to water his plant that now he was late. Dwight looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and walked out the door. “I—If you are… If you need it badly, I can wait a few more minutes,” Kenneth said. “No, it’s okay,” Ethan promised. “I’m here for you. Don’t worry about me.” “…Are you sure? You look a little—“ “I’m fine,” Ethan insisted. “I’ve held it before, it’s no big deal. Let’s—“ He froze. ‘Where did I leave that handkerchief in there?!’ Had he just dropped it? Was it just laying out in the open? “Um— O-One moment please…” “Okay…” Ethan tore back into his office. He had indeed simply dropped the handkerchief onto the ground. It was laying right there, very wet and staining yellow, where anyone could see. He plucked the clammy, cold thing up and crinkled his nose at the smell— It was so obvious what he’d done to it. Completely, utterly obvious… He yanked open one of the drawers in his desk and tossed it inside, hoping the scent wouldn’t leak through the wood. ‘Leak…’ Oh, he shouldn’t have thought that word! His bladder gave a lurch and he barely prevented another one of his own leaks from seeping into his boxers. Could he ‘use’ another handkerchief? Just one more? Just one more would make him feel so much better! He needed to let more out! Needed to get rid of some pressure somehow! He reached down and took apart his belt, his bladder billowing forwards and enjoying all the new space it was now free to occupy. It was a massive relief, but only lasted a second. Then, the thundering throbs had returned, and he just— He just had to go so bad! Without really thinking, he tore open the top drawer of his desk, grabbed a handkerchief and shoved it down the front of his pants. He managed to wedge it between his dick and his boxers as another spurt escaped the confines of his bladder. Panting, he tried to steady himself. There… Just… Just a little something to help catch any leaks that happened to slip out during the next hour. An extra layer of protection to make it less obvious that he was slowly losing control over his body. He opened the door and ushered Kenneth inside. When Ethan took his seat, his waistband compressed his bladder hard. The bloated organ trembled, liquid surging downwards in a frantic rush. He fought hard, battling against his body, against the gallons upon gallons of liquid within him. But, none of his squirming helped. None of it even managed to slow down the horrid desperation that continued to just build and build and build, and another trickle of liquid escaped. He didn’t panic, for now it was only seeping into the cloth he’d tucked against himself. His bladder was leaking, but none of it was staining into his clothes right now. Still, his entire body was trembling hard, every nerve ending inside of him was focused on just containing his ocean. He shook all over, hips bucking back and forth in his seat, scissoring his legs like crazy. Kenneth sat down on the couch, staring at Ethan. “Are you sure you’re alright?” The spasm faded, and Ethan was able to go a bit stiller finally. “Yes, I’m okay,” he assured, splaying his legs out in front of himself, fanning his knees in and out. “I do need to relieve myself, but that’s not a big deal. I promise. I’ll go after work. I’m here to help you, so don’t worry about me.” He’d been saying that an awful lot today… He wished he could calm his body down enough that he wouldn’t HAVE to tell his patients not to fret over him. “Besides, talking to you will distract me, I’ll just forget all about needing the bathroom.” He hoped so, anyway. Kenneth had a few things he was working through— Trauma, anger management, internalized homophobia… But, one of the big things Kenneth dealt with was his extreme Paruresis. His shy bladder. His inability to relieve himself in public settings. It was something he and Ethan talked about a lot, and it was something that wouldn’t distract Ethan from his own need at all. “Is there something you want to focus on today?” Ethan asked. Internally, he begged ‘Please not the pissing thing. Please not the pissing thing. Please not the pissing thing.’ “Well…” Kenneth looked to his side. “Um… There was something that happened that made me really angry recently…” ‘Oh, thank God…’ Ethan thought. They were going to be discussing Kenneth’s fits today, his rage, his ‘anger-demon’, as he often called it. Kenneth felt all of his emotions with a great deal of intensity, but especially anger. When something set him off, he often lost control of himself and did things he would come to regret. That was something Ethan could talk about right now. That was something his bladder could handle. “But…” Kenneth went on. “I’m not sure if I should say it…” “You can tell me anything,” Ethan assured. Often, Kenneth would be embarrassed after a rage incident, acknowledging that he’d overreacted to something very small. “I don’t judge, and none of it will ever leave this room.” “It’s just… I… I really don’t know if I should talk about this…” Sometimes, Kenneth’s fits were violent if the thing that provoked him had made him feel cornered. Sometimes, he’d get lash out because his mind was telling him he was in danger and that the only way to protect himself was to fight and scream. Sometimes, things got broken. “If you did something that is making you feel guilty, you can say that. If you harmed something, it’s very healthy that you’re feeling sorry about it now.” “N—No, I didn’t… I didn’t break anything this time,” Kenneth said. “I just yelled a whole lot…But… Um…” “It’s okay. I promise, it’s not as bad as you think it is. I’m proud of you for not damaging anything.” “Th—Thank you, but… I… I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to tell you everything that happened today. I don’t think you want to hear it right now.” “I always want to hear what’s on your mind,” Ethan said. “Are you sure?” “Of course. You can say anything in here, it’s a safe place.” “Well… Alright,” Kenneth said. “So, um… Dwight likes bike riding. And there was that big race a couple weeks ago. He said it would be fun if we did it together. I’m not good at riding a bike, but I…” Kenneth blushed. “Dwight was so excited, and that made me feel…I wanted to do it for him. Except, to compete in the race, you have to pass a drug test.” “Okay,” Ethan said. Had someone accused Kenneth of being on drugs? It would make sense he’d be upset by that. Kenneth had been raised by a barely functional alcoholic and he never wanted to let himself go down a similar path Someone even just jokingly suggesting that he was an addict may have offended him. “Um… They are observed drug tests,” Kenneth added. “The kind where you… Have to urinate into a cup while someone watches.” Oh. Ohhhhhh. Fuck. Ethan didn’t want to talk about this! This wasn’t fair! Yesterday, when he’d had access to a toilet, NONE of his patients had said even ONE word about pissing. Now, when Ethan was stuck holding it all day, everyone kept talking about it! His bladder convulsed. The urine within him was trying once more to move down the pipe of his penis, he felt the warmth as it tried to bead through his urethra, but he crossed his legs and held it back. “If you can’t discuss this today,” Kenneth said quickly. “That’s fine. I’m sure you don’t want to be thinking about… That.” Ethan definitely didn’t want to be thinking about it! But, his job was to listen to Kenneth, to discuss whatever was troubling him. If the thing troubling him was related to urinating, then Ethan would just have to deal with it as best he could. “It is okay, Kenneth,” Ethan said. “We can talk about whatever you need to talk about. Were you warned ahead of time that this test would be occurring?” “I wasn’t,” Kenneth said. “But then, I thought it wouldn’t matter WHO observed. So I asked if Dwight could please do it for me, since I have no problem going in front of him. And I said that it HAD to be him doing it, which I think made them suspicious.” Ethan thought that over. He could understand why someone unfamiliar with Kenneth’s situation would jump to the wrong conclusion; Assume Dwight was going to provide the sample FOR him, or something. “Did you tell them why at first?” Kenneth shook his head. “I was too embarrassed… When I was in the room with this other guy— I’d never even met him before, he was just a stranger— I tried to go like I was supposed to. But… He was there, and it was just impossible for me.” Ethan nodded, picturing it. Kenneth had been thrust into a very high-stress situation— Being told to urinate on demand while a complete stranger stared at him— and hadn’t even been given proper warning. “What was your anxiety level? One to ten? “Nine,” Kenneth said right away. “I felt like I was about to hyperventilate, and then the guy told me to hurry it up and it got worse. I had this bad twisting feeling in my chest and got all sweaty.” “Did he notice you were beginning to panic?” “He did,” Kenneth said. “And, I think THAT made me look suspicious too, because he asked if I was hiding something.” Ethan bit his lip. That was entirely inappropriate, accusing a person of something without any real evidence. “So, I started getting mad,” Kenneth went on. “Because I hadn’t done anything wrong. I mean, if they just watched me ride a bike for five minutes THAT should be enough proof for them that I haven’t taken any performance enhancing drugs. I told this guy that he was just making me feel nervous, and that I can’t go if I’m nervous. I told him I had Paruresis, since that’s what you said it’s called, and that I couldn’t help it.” “That was a good thing to do,” Ethan praised, forcing a smile. His piss-hole kept spasming, that one tiny ring of muscle suddenly feeling like it had billions of nerve-endings and every one of them was filled with agony. “I know how hard it is for you to talk to people about this.” “I didn’t feel like I had a choice,” Kenneth explained. “And it didn’t even help. He just said ‘After enough time your bladder will have to void, under any circumstance. I have heard this shy bladder syndrome excuse many times; however it does not stand up to scrutiny. We will wait until you submit a sample, no matter how long it takes.’” “Is this when you yelled?” “No,” Kenneth shook his head. “I just got more shaky and anxious. Because I was pretty sure I knew what was going to happen now. And I was right. He made me drink glass after glass of water, and kept me in the room with him and the cup. I—“ he paused, looking at Ethan. “Um…” “Go on,” Ethan prompted. His bladder thrashed at his next words. “Tell me everything you were feeling, it’s okay.” “I… I had to go so bad,” Kenneth mumbled. “I was dying for it. I wanted to give up and just quit, but Dwight had been so excited for this and I didn’t want to wreck it just because I can’t piss.” “I don’t think Dwight would have blamed you…” Ethan said calmly. “I— Sometimes, when I’m super desperate, I get this feeling in my back. It’s right under my ribs. And it HURTS. It’s enough to make me cry sometimes, it feels like getting kicked by a mule or something.” Ethan flinched. He knew the feeling Kenneth was referring to— It was one that told him it was time to use the safeword if he was playing a game with James, and one that usually came just before an accident at any other time. His heart twisted as he realized Kenneth must have felt this pain pretty often in his daily life. “I was bursting,” Kenneth said. “I was holding myself, crossing my legs— Doing this— This weird thing I do when I have to go, where I chew on my hands a little. It hurt and I couldn’t take it. And I kept trying to go in the cup, because the guy kept saying I couldn’t leave the room until after I’d done it. But, I couldn’t. I was trying so hard, I was mashing my hand into my bladder, but all that did was hurt me more. I was pretending I was somewhere else, and that didn’t help either. I kept begging the guy to just leave the room because I couldn’t go and I felt like I was going to explode.” Ethan’s tense hand rested atop his bouncing knee. In his first session with him, Kenneth had had a difficult time describing his desperation. He’d been embarrassed to talk about it, he’d kept it vague. Kenneth had gotten more and more comfortable having Ethan as a therapist though, and that made it easier for him to talk about things. Ethan was happy Kenneth felt safe here, but he found himself yearning for the days where Kenneth could barely even explain what needing a piss felt like. His description today was so vivid, so intense, Ethan knew exactly how Kenneth had been feeling, because he felt it in his own bladder right now. “So, it just kept… Going on like that. For hours. And he kept making me drink more even though I was telling him there wasn’t any more room inside of me for it. Eventually I noticed… Um, well. Sometimes if I’m holding a lot, I get all swollen around where my bladder is.” 
Ethan’s eyes flicked down to his lap for a second. There was a little bulge in his own abdomen. Swollen, hard. Straining and full of so much urine… “So, I actually— I pulled up my shirt, and I said ‘Look, don’t you see how bad it’s hurting me? Don’t you think that if I COULD piss I would have done it by now?’ And he didn’t even care. He told me again that I had to stay until I filled the cup, and he didn’t care how long it took me. He said he’d stay in there with me a whole week if that’s what it took, and then he laughed because the idea of holding it a week is ridiculous. Except, I got scared because with how my body is, if he stayed with me a whole week I probably WOULD hold it that long.” “You would need to go to the hospital before that…” Ethan said gently. “I— I know, but that’s scary too,” Kenneth said. “I don’t want— I don’t want something going in there…” Ethan understood. Catheterization was one of Kenneth’s fears. But, if the incident he was describing today had ended with THAT, he would have said so by now. It must have ended a different way. “Were you able to use the cup eventually?” “Yes,” Kenneth said. “After a few hours, the guy said HE had to piss. He made a stupid joke about how watching me dance for so long had upset his bladder, and he said to stay in the room until he got back. He left, and I was finally alone. And— And the SECOND the door was shut behind him and my body realized he was gone, I was… I was… Having— An— An accident… I couldn’t stop going, and I thought that if I got some in the cup he’d finally leave me alone for good and this would all be over. So, I got my— My clothes apart, and I started filling the cup.” Ethan tried his best not to picture that. He tried not to imagine how relieved Kenneth must have felt when his bladder finally gave out and he at last released everything he’d been forced to hold. He tried not to imagine the sound of it hissing into his clothing before he began to flood the cup instead. Ethan imagined these things anyway, and his bladder responded to the ideas dashing through his brain by sloshing hard against his sphincter. One drop— One single, solitary drop— collected at the tip of his cock, seeping against the cloth he had stuffed inside his pants. “But,” Kenneth said. “I— Um… I have… Er… I think my bladder is… Bigger than a lot of people’s, since I have to… Hold so much all the time. And the cup was tiny… So, I overflowed it really fast and STILL couldn’t stop, so it got all over the floor, and… And my clothes were wet too, and I was so ashamed that I was trying not to cry.” “It’s okay to cry, Kenneth,” Ethan said. “I know,” Kenneth said. “I just… The guy came back. He saw I was wet, he saw the floor was wet, and he was mad. He called me ‘ridiculous’ for ‘wanting to piss myself to get out of a drug test.’ And I was mad. I almost yelled, but I held it back and gritted my teeth. I pointed at the cup. I wanted to say ‘Look! I filled your stupid cup up for you!’ But I knew if I opened my mouth I was going to explode at him. He saw the cup, he said something about how it was okay he didn’t observe because, since I was… Wet, he knew I’d gone. But, then he looked at it more, and…” 
Ethan squirmed painfully in his seat when Kenneth trailed off. He tangled his legs together. His lower abdomen was hard and smooth, bulging sharply beneath his navel. “What?” “He… My pee was super, super clear, from all the water he’d made me drink. And he said it was too ‘diluted’ for the test to work. And that meant I’d have to try again. I’d have to do ALL of it over again. And… That’s when I blew up. I shouted and screamed at him, I called him an asshole, I told him I wished I could make HIM hold it until it hurt, I just yelled and yelled until my throat was sore and I could hardly breathe, and then I got thrown out for being belligerent. And I was so embarrassed that I’d— Basically just thrown a tantrum like a toddler. And I felt terrible because now I couldn’t be in the race with Dwight like he’d wanted. And I was so exhausted, I just wanted to go home.” “Dwight was okay though, wasn’t he?” Ethan asked. Even if Kenneth hadn’t gotten to that part of the story yet, Ethan was certain he was right. “They’d… They’d told Dwight to leave right after he gave his sample,” Kenneth explained. “He’d wanted to stay there for me, since he knew I was having a hard time, but they told him to go so the place wouldn’t get too crowded. I stayed outside for a few minutes trying to breathe, then I realized I was out in public with wet clothes and felt more humiliated than ever, so I called Dwight and asked him to pick me up. He asked if I ever… Managed it, and I explained everything. He was sort of mad, but not at me. He came and got me, and we went home, and… He let me sleep in his bed with him that night, that made me feel a little better.” “Dwight cares for you so much,” Ethan said. “But, I wrecked everything!” Kenneth said. “He should have been furious with me! I ruined it, just because I can’t piss, and just because I go crazy when I’m mad!” “It is completely understandable that you got angry after everything that happened to you that day,” Ethan said. “However… When YOU feel angry, what exactly is it like? What does your body feel like? What goes through your mind?” “I feel… I feel like my chest is a volcano, it’s so hot and something’s trying to burst out of it,” Kenneth said. “I feel like there’s less air, I feel like everything’s closing in. My head hurts, feels like it’s going to explode. And… there’s NOTHING going through my mind. Not really. Just… Nothing but this idea that I have to DESTROY something or I’ll fall apart.” “… Kenneth, have you ever heard of Intermittent Explosive Disorder?” “No. What’s that?” “It’s… Something I’ve been thinking about ever since I first started to see you,” Ethan explained. “IED causes impulsive bursts of anger, which are often disproportionate to whatever sparks them. The outbursts can be things like screaming, tantrums, or breaking things. When feeling rage, a person with IED will often have racing, incoherent thoughts, increased energy, and tightness in the chest. After these episodes, they will usually feel guilty or embarrassed by their behavior. Does any of that sound familiar to you?” Kenneth was quiet for a moment. “So…” he said finally. “There’s a name for it?” “There is,” Ethan said. “And lots of other people have this condition, too. It’s not uncommon in people who’ve experienced extreme levels of abuse and trauma during childhood, like you have. The good news is that it’s treatable. Coming here and talking to me is one thing that can help you, if you’d like we can try to get you some mood stabilizers. Might take some time to find the correct dosage and medication.” “I can take pills that make it go away!?” “That can help you MANAGE it,” Ethan corrected. He didn’t want to set Kenneth’s expectations too high. Even after he’d found a medication that worked for him, he was still going to have anger, and it was still going to be intense at times. Hopefully, he’d have an easier time controlling how he REACTED to those feelings, though. “But, they will help you. Would you be interested in trying that?” Kenneth nodded. “Yes,” he said. Ethan smiled. “Alright, we’ll talk more about that next time you’re here.” He started to stand up, then froze halfway out of his chair. He could practically feel all the liquid in him splashing around as he moved. The fluid was slamming hard against his sensitive skin, and he bit down on a whimper. When he’d been explaining Kenneth’s condition and possible treatments to him, Ethan had been in his element. Just like earlier with Alex, he’d been helping a person understand themselves better. He’d been focused on something that was more IMPORTANT than his bladder. Now though, his bladder was fighting hard to remind him that it was actually the most important thing in his universe right now and that if he didn’t start TREATING it that way, it was going to punish him. “Oh…” he winced, trying his best to get all the way up onto his feet. A spurt squirted into the cloth beneath his boxers. Then another. And another. And then he knew he’d soaked the material through and was starting to hit clothes, so he tried hard to stop. Tried his best to stop. But, his dribbles kept coming. He finally gave in and clutched himself, pressing hard against his opening and sealing his flow shut. Kenneth KNEW that he had to pee, it was fine to hold himself! “Are you sure you’re still okay?” Kenneth asked, watching him struggle. “I really, really have to go,” Ethan admitted. “But, I’m still okay. Don’t worry.” Kenneth went to the door and opened it. He held it there as Ethan walked through, seeing as now the other man needed to use his hands for something else. Kenneth and Ethan were both turning red when they discovered Dwight and James deep in conversation… The topic of which was all the weird places Dwight had decided to piss in the past. “So, yeah… I’ve pissed outside a whole bunch. Peed into a vase before… Oh, and I peed in my hat once,” Dwight was explaining. “I got stuck in an elevator and I couldn’t wait. I thought ‘Oh, well my hat’s kind of sturdy, maybe I can go in it.’ But, it didn’t hold together as well as I’d thought it would.” Kenneth rubbed a hand over his face. “Dwight, I’m sure the nice doctor’s assistant DOESN’T want to hear about you pissing all over the place…” Ethan rocked on his heels and tried not to say that HE was sure that was EXACTLY what James wanted to hear about. Maybe James would even want to trade jobs with him if he found out how much Ethan had had to hear about peeing today… Dwight turned. “Oh, hey doc. You can definitely pee on that plant if you have to and nobody will even notice. James told me about how—“ “Oh, shhhh!” James cried out. “—When your pipes froze last December, he didn’t want the plant to die and—“ “SHHHHH!” Dwight looked at him, “What?” “Dwight,” Kenneth said. “Let’s go. You’ve done enough damage here.” “Okay…” Dwight said, and the two were out the door. Ethan turned to James, whom immediately started to ramble; “I promise, I only peed on the plant that day because—“ “I—It’s fine, James,” Ethan said, jerking his hips when his bladder spasmed harshly once again. Sweat trickled down his neck and turned cold. “You don’t happen to have an empty bottle, do you? Oh— No, I’d need to find someplace to hide it…” That was precisely how James had predicted Ethan would react to that idea. “And, I’m sure I’ve got way more in me than a bottle can fit…” Ethan added softly, so quiet James wasn’t sure if he’d meant for him to hear it. James flashed back to his earlier idea and blushed hard. Ethan sure was in an awful state now, his feet shifting, hands kneading against his crotch. A few seconds passed and he made a sound that was quite a bit like a whimper. James wanted to make him feel better… But, would he really do THAT just to make him feel better?! Before James could consider it any further, the door was opening, and a woman was entering. Ethan made himself go still and forced his hands away from his dick. James could still see the way his muscles were reacting to the ache inside him, his position frozen as his muscles twitched from the strain. “Hello!” Ethan said. “Nice to see you!” His voice was louder than he’d intended it to be, and he cleared his throat. “R—Ready to start?” The woman gave him an odd look for a second, Ethan saw her gaze still on his crossed legs. “Are you?” “O—Of course,” Ethan insisted, uncoiling his legs and forcing them to edge out until they formed an angle they would have taken if he wasn’t struggling not to pee his pants. His knees still trembled, just barely. “I'm fine! I’m ready when you are!” The woman nodded and followed Ethan to the office. James watched them go, worrying at his lip. Just one more appointment after this one, so Ethan would be done in two hours. Could he last that long? When Ethan emerged from his office an hour later, he was limping. He could no longer stand upright all the way, and his hands were wedged into the crease between his legs. James assumed he must have ended up telling his patient the problem he was facing at some point— No way could he have kept it a secret when he was making it so obvious. Sure enough, he heard the woman say to him. “Do you want me to try to get your door open?” Ethan was stammering, “I— I— I can’t ask you to do that. I’m the one that should be—“ “I don’t mind trying,” the woman told him. “You know, it’s okay if YOU’RE the one who needs some help sometimes, right? I think…Is it hard for you to ask for help?” Ethan was really blushing now. In just one sentence, he felt like their roles were reversing completely. “Uh… Well, I guess if you’re okay with it…” he said finally. The woman took a bobby-pin out of her hair and wedged it into the small hole in the doorknob, she wriggled it around. “I know you can pick some types of locks with these…” Ethan twitchily stood off to the side, knees rubbing together. His boxers felt pretty damp, the cloth he’d stuck there to catch his leaks was too wet to make a difference now. He’d spurted so many times during the last hour that his crotch was clammy. His patients were not supposed to worry about HIM. His patients were not supposed to try to help HIM. It was backwards. His hand squeezed so hard against his crotch. He needed help… He sucked in a sharp breath. “I—Is it working?” he asked, hopeful. “I’m trying…” she said. “If you can’t do it, it’s okay,” Ethan said. “I’ll be fine.” His pelvic muscles shook hard. His whole body was so tense. His bladder was punishing him for every time he told another person that they didn’t need to be concerned for him today. For every time he denied that HE needed to be taken care of as well from time to time. Ethan’s hope died more and more the longer the woman tried to pick the lock. She finally turned around, apologetic. “I’m sorry…” she said. “It’s fine,” Ethan promised, and immediately a sharp bolt of pain twisted inside his urethra, he felt like the bobby pin was being shoved in THERE instead of into the lock. His bladder was fed up with all of his downplaying. He was bursting, and he needed someone to help him find relief! He made himself smile. “Don’t worry about it.” Another spasm, even worse than the last, and he was bobbing up and down. “You’re sure?” “Yes,” Ethan said, and a long dribble of pee leaked out of his tip. “I— I only have one more appointment,” he explained. “I can hold it for that long.” Another spurt, and it hissed audibly. He prayed she hadn’t heard it. “Okay…” she said. “If you’re sure…” She went to James’s desk to pay, and Ethan stood beside his partner, bouncing and squirming, ordering his bladder to just ACCEPT that he wasn’t going to piss for another hour. Except, maybe if he RAN next door as fast as he could, got to the toilet and pushed down on his muscles so hard that he somehow managed to gush all this piss out in under a minute and ran back… No, he couldn’t do it that fast. He knew he couldn’t. Maybe he didn’t HAVE to go all the way next door? There was a little crevice between his building and the sandwich store. He could tuck himself in there and let it all flow… And if his patient was walking in at that exact amount, he’d be caught doing it. No. Bad idea. And it was too late now, anyway. His final appointment of the day had arrived. Another woman, Emily. And this one was able to guess his problem right away— Not that it took much effort, he was holding his crotch, crossing his legs and jiggling. There weren’t very many reasons for a person to do all of that. “Um… Are you okay?” “I— Well, my bathroom door is stuck,” Ethan explained. “And I haven’t been able to go all day, and I… I’m afraid I like coffee a bit too much as well. So, I apologize if I am a little bit… Fidgety during our session today.” He couldn’t believe he’d just… Laid it all out like that, given his patient a reason to fret over him. But, somehow he felt BETTER now that he’d said it, now that he didn’t have to try HIDING it anymore. “Oh,” Emily said. “Well…” she dug around in her purse, retrieved a very small bottle. “I… I have this?” she said. ‘Ah…Oh dear…’ Ethan thought. This was so unprofessional. This was wrong. This was not something he should ever do. Ever. The bottle wouldn’t even be big enough! But, he could let SOME of it go, he could get a little relief, take the edge off so he could hold it. And, since she was the one GIVING it to him, he didn’t have to worry so much about hiding it afterwards, right? No, no! He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he shou— 

He’d reached for the bottle without realizing, without even consciously choosing to do it. “Th—Thank you,” he said, mouth moving on its own. “O—One moment, please…” He went into his office, shut the door and unzipped himself. He froze. Was he really about to flood a bottle inside his office? While his patient WAITED out there and knew EXACTLY what he was up to? ‘You’ll… You’ll do a better job if you can CONCENTRATE. And you’ll CONCENTRATE more if you’re not completely bursting…’ With that thought, Ethan’s liquid started to rattle into the small, plastic receptacle. “Ohhhh….” Ethan moaned faintly, his relieved utterance sounding implausibly loud in the quiet room. Just being able to RELAX all those tight muscles for a second felt absolutely incredible. He felt better, he felt better, he felt… He felt the bottle getting warm and heavy. All too quickly, he’d nearly reached the top, and knew that he had to cut off his flow or he’d make an enormous mess. He tried, body going rigid as he fought to slam his floodgates shut again. Urine kept leaking and dribbling from his tip, and he managed to stop completely for a second, whimpering. But then he was gushing all over again. Pee was starting to spill down the sides of the bottle as he overflowed it, and Ethan squirmed and begged his body to stop, but he was still peeing and now a few drops had hit the carpet, and— Ethan released a pained groan, snapped his legs together, and finally stopped. With shaky hands, he twisted the cap back onto the bottle and shoved it into his desk. He knew it was likely to start smelling during the next hour, but his patient KNEW what he’d done already. She KNEW what he’d done… Blushing hard, Ethan zipped his pants back up. How could he have just done that?! It was wrong! It was inappropriate! It was so, so embarrassing! And he hadn’t even gotten to finish— Stopping midstream had been torture! He stomped his feet against the floor, hips twitching, but after a few seconds he realized his bladder DID feel a little more manageable now. His mind was less clouded by the fog of his desperation, too. One more hour. He could do that. He opened the door, expecting to see Emily right there, but she wasn’t there. He heard her near James’s desk, talking with him. “Does Dr. Willow have trouble accepting help often?” she was asking. “He does,” James confirmed. “I tell him all the time that it’s fine if he needs somebody else, but I don’t know. I think he feels like, since he’s always taking care of people and stuff, his own needs have to come second. He lets ME help him a lot, but he’s never been good at asking for i— Oh, hey Ethan!” he waved. “We weren’t talking about you!” “It’s quite alright, James,” Ethan told him. Nothing James had said was untrue, Ethan DID often struggle with accepting help, and especially with asking for it.. He knew that, and he knew it was a problem. And, truthfully, he even knew some things he could DO about the behavior. But, Ethan couldn’t be his own therapist, couldn’t view his own struggles through the same objective lens he was able to look at his patients through. “Emily, come back with me.” When Ethan took his chair in his office, the waistband of his pants compressed his irritated bladder and made him shiver, tense as could be. “Did you use the bottle?” Emily asked him. The hot bands in Ethan’s throat grew tighter. “I— I did…” he said. “But… It was kind of… Small.” “Oh. So you still need to—“ “It’s better now,” Ethan promised. “Don’t worry about me, that’s my job.” He frowned, running that sentence through his head again. It sounded a little backwards, and untrue. Ethan HADN’T been worrying enough about himself today. “Okay…” Emily said, and their session began. Ethan bounced in his seat constantly throughout it. He’d squirm uselessly in all directions. The walls of his bladder, the muscles controlling them, and his sphincters were all deeply annoyed, furious with how he’d been treating his body. He hadn’t emptied himself all day, just a whole bunch of shameful leaks, two soaked rags and a bottle he’d overflowed. None of that had been good enough, none of that had gotten him what he truly needed, which was an empty, bone-dry bladder. Ohhh, he just wanted all this piss out of his body, he’d been containing it all for so long that the need was just TERRIBLE now. He was able to respond to Emily, he was able to listen to everything she told him and offer advice, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t stop wondering how much time was left— How much longer was he going to have to wait? More spills pumped into his boxers, and he was left with no choice but to grip himself to stem the flow. His hand shook as it pressed harshly into his groin. When the session concluded, Ethan was immensely relieved. He decided to let James handle Emily’s payment all on his own, he could manage that perfectly fine. Ethan couldn’t manage his bladder any longer, he needed to run from this room, out the front door and to the sandwich shop. Then, he’d tear into the restroom like he was escaping a rabid grizzly bear and piss away until he was at long last completely empty. The first step was getting out of his chair. He started to rise, and immediately there was a massive, shuddering cramp assailing him from within, and suddenly his hands weren’t doing anything to keep his urine where it belonged. His lips fell apart in a silent gasp, sweat gushing down his back. He collapsed back in his seat, fanning his legs in and out while panic flared through his mind. He couldn’t get up! His bladder was so full that he couldn’t move, it was freezing him to his spot, confining him there and preventing its own relief from happening. What could Ethan DO now? He couldn’t get up to run to the toilet without pissing himself, but if he stayed in his chair much longer he was still going to piss himself. He’d lost. There was no way he was going to make it. He couldn’t do it. It was impossible. “Oh! Are you alright?” Emily asked, staring at Ethan’s pained, coiled up body as he rocked back and forth on his chair. ‘Yes. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,’ Ethan tried to say. But, those words died on his lips. He wasn’t fine at all, and he NEEDED someone to worry about him, he needed someone to… To HELP him. James was good at helping him. “Pl—Please pay my assistant as fast as you can, and then send him in here?” Ethan requested. He needed help, he needed James… He wanted James now! “Okay,” Emily said gently, leaving the room. Ethan was by himself now, doubling over with a moan, bucking against the pressure of his palms. None of it was helping anymore. The stone of his bladder was crumbling to bits and he was going to explode! Ethan waited for James. He waited and waited and waited. And even though it couldn’t have been more than three minutes before James showed up, Ethan felt like it had been an eternity. “Ethan?” James asked. “Are you—“ “I can’t get up!” Ethan interrupted, realizing now that he didn’t actually know what he wanted James to DO for him— He’d only got as far as accepting that he needed James’s help. “D—Did Emily leave?” If he was going to flood himself, he didn’t want a patient in the building while it happened. “Yeah, it’s just us now,” James said. He hadn’t seen Ethan THIS desperate in a long, long time. Even the day his boyfriend had accidentally urinated in his lap, it hadn’t been this intense. Ethan looked like he was being tortured, his body obviously showing him no mercy. “Can I help you stand?” James offered. He took Ethan’s arm. “Let’s go, nice and steady now…” Ethan moaned and latched onto James, slowly being lifted upright, and— A hissing sound penetrated the air. Ethan was peeing forcefully. His breath hitched and his whole body shuddered. “N—No, I can’t— I can’t walk— I can’t—“ He folded over on himself, clutching away and cutting his release off yet again. But, he could feel so much heat traveling in his length, his piss was sure to start pouring out again any second now. He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t make it… “I could carry you?” James suggested, but even as the words passed his lips he knew it would never work. Ethan would probably burst completely the second James had lifted him. He’d drench them both in an instant. And this time, having Ethan accidentally pee on him wouldn’t give James any pleasure at all, he’d be too knotted up with the sympathy he felt for the poor man, having an accident inside his office, soaking the carpet and leaving what was sure to be an obvious stain behind. Ethan needed some way to go right where he was. James hurriedly opened the drawers of Ethan’s desk. He found the two handkerchiefs Ethan had already let himself flow into. They’d dried off a bit since then, he could use them again. And, maybe if he soaked ALL of the cloths he’d get enough out to be able to walk to a toilet? ‘No,’ he thought. He could already imagine what Ethan would say; “I was going to throw out the two I… used. I can’t ruin them all like that!” He found the bottle Ethan had filled. Maybe if he dumped it out somewhere, Ethan could refill it again and again until he was finished. It was sure going to hurt to have to start and stop over and over, but it would be better than a full on accident. Where COULD he empty it, though? The only sink was in the bathroom, so it was as unobtainable as the toilet was. Maybe he could pour it on the plant instead, then? Once more, he could hear Ethan’s response. “I… Have a lot in me. If you water a plant too much, it dies. And it’s probably gonna be worse if we use something that ISN’T even water.” There weren’t any other options inside the drawers, though. And Ethan’s trash-can was wire mesh, any liquid would run straight out of it and soak the floor. He couldn’t pee THERE, either. There was that… That one idea James had been wrestling with all day… Would Ethan be okay with it? Just so long as James assured him that HE was okay with it? Would it even work? Would Ethan be able to relax and let go of his bladder in such a strange, off-putting way? Would James be able to swallow it fast enough, or would it spill out on the floor? James couldn’t end up CHOKING on it, could he? Was that possible? There was only one way to find out the answers to those questions. James took a deep breath. “We… Are alone now,” he said. “And, um… I had an idea of a way I can help you… But it’s… I don’t know if you’d like it because it’s really, really weird. And you’d probably think it’s gross and you wouldn’t want to put me through it— But, I promise I’M okay with it if you are, so don’t worry about that, and—“ “J—James…” Ethan whined. “If you have an idea, please tell me? I— I’m holding on by a thread.” “O—Okay,” James said. “Now, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. If it makes you too uncomfortable, I’ll try to find some other way. I just want to make you feel better, and if this makes you feel worse, tell me and I won’t be upset. I’ll just think of something els—“ Ethan stomped his feet hard. “James, please?” He needed relief! He didn’t care how he got it! He couldn’t fathom what James was going to suggest. The only thing he could come up with was that James was going to say they take their shirts off and have Ethan stand on top of them while he pissed his pants so that the carpet would be saved. Ethan wouldn’t like it very much, but he absolutely didn’t want to make a mess of the floor, and they’d be going straight home anyway so their clothes would get clea— “I… Um…” This was one of those incredibly rare moments where James struggled to talk. Usually, he chattered nonstop and didn’t think twice about what came out of his mouth. Now though, he couldn’t even string a sentence together! And, it was worse because Ethan couldn’t wait much longer to hear the idea, if James didn’t spit it out, Ethan was going to pee his pants before an alternative was even presented. “James…” “Okay, okay!” James said. “I was… I just… I wouldn’t mind if you… In my mouth, and I… Got rid of it for you…” Ethan stared at him, his teeth grinding together sharply as he sucked in a very shallow puff of air. A very long moment passed, during which Ethan twitched and shook and his face started to go pale instead of pink. “If you don’t wanna do that, that’s okay! I’ll think of— Of something else!” “James. Are you sure? I thought you told me you weren’t interested in… In drinking… It.” “I’m still not,” James admitted. “But, the idea doesn’t gross me out a ton, either. I dunno why, but I’m, like… Okay with it. I wanna help you feel all better, and—“ “You’d… You’d be willing to…” Ethan’s mouth dropped shut. He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t make any more sounds beyond his tiny, whimpering moans. “I would,” James said, blushing. It wasn’t like he thought this was a very normal thing to offer, either. But, he… He just wanted to help Ethan. That was what he always wanted. “Only if YOU’RE willing. You don’t have to…” Ethan wrenched hard against his clenching hands, knees wobbling and buckling beneath him. “I— I think… I think I… I kinda DO have to. Really bad. You’re sure, though?” “I am,” James said. “I’m okay with it, I promise. I wouldn’t have suggested this if I wasn’t okay with it.” “O—Okay,” Ethan said. His trembling fingers curled around his zipper, bladder spasming and begging him to yank it down. He hesitated. He’d peed in some odd places before, he could admit that. Desperation had driven him to relieve himself in a lot of spots that wouldn’t have been his first choice. This, though. This was… He didn’t even KNOW what this was. “James, I— What if— What if it’s grosser than you’re imagining, and you… You can’t…” James looked him in the eyes, and noticed he was beginning to tear up. Was his bladder hurting that bad, or was it something else? “What?” “I… I… What if, you actually really hate this. And then… Afterwards, you can’t even look at me. You think I’m too disgusting, and… And so you don’t like me anymore…” “I could never stop liking you,” James promised. “Even if it… Tastes really, really bad, and it turns out I hate every second of it, I’ll still love you just as much afterwards.” “But, what if you’re wrong?” “I’ll still see you the same way,” James assured. “Even if I end up thinking this is gross. I won’t stop loving you because of that. It won’t change anything. If I hate it, all it will mean is that I tried something out that I didn’t enjoy. But, I don’t think I CAN completely hate it, because I’ll be HELPING you.” “O—Okay…” Ethan said, beginning to unzip. “H—How do I— How do we—“ “Um…” James got down on his knees, the same way he did when he was readying himself to suck Ethan off. Those memories gave him an idea of how to make sure Ethan didn’t ‘miss’. “Maybe… Just… stick it in my mouth? Like if we were—“ Ethan nodded, trembling as he freed his cock. James saw a drop of urine already collected on his tip. “Um… Okay… You’re sure?” “Yes, you don’t need to ask,” James said. “I’m sure. Whenever you’re ready.” Ethan wanted to do this, he certainly ENJOYED having James’s lips wrapped around his cock. And, he was dying to go. He was dribbling where he stood, little droplets plinking to the carpet. With his dick now out, Ethan wrapped his hands around it, swayed from side to side, jiggled up and down. It shouldn’t have been so adorable, but James felt some heat in his cheeks anyway. Ethan was doing his familiar pee dance, so full of need, ready to burst. It made James want to take care of him. “If you’re too uncomfortable…” “I— I am uncomfortable,” Ethan said. “I can’t hold it…” “You don’t have to.” James reached out towards Ethan’s cock. “Let me help.” Ethan released his penis from his hands, urine immediately beading up in his urethra. “O—Okay, you… Um… However you want…” James edged himself closer, his hand grasped Ethan’s dick and he looked up. Ethan nodded, very slightly. So, James continued, he drew Ethan’s member into his mouth and focused on holding his tongue still. He wasn’t sure if Ethan COULD get hard in this condition, but didn’t want to tempt him to. It would become very difficult for him to piss if that happened. ‘Maybe if I got him hard, he’d be able to walk next door without going?’ James thought briefly, but he knew THAT was a godawful idea. Ethan would never walk into the sandwich store with an erection, even if he was able to hide it. James waited for the first spurts of Ethan’s piss to wet his tongue, but nothing came out. He assumed Ethan was waiting for some kind of signal that it was time, so James looked up at him and flashed a thumbs-up. Ethan was actually TRYING to pee, he was just having trouble. Everything in him was screaming that this wasn’t a good idea, that James would be revolted, that in spite of everything he’d said to the contrary, he’d be so disgusted after this was finished that he’d never look at Ethan again. He shook from so much more than desperation. Suddenly, he felt something warm encasing his hand, felt it being gently squeezed. James was holding him, trying to reassure him, to make him understand and accept that this was an okay thing to do and that James wanted it. James wanted to help and make him feel better. 
Ethan’s bladder loosened, and his release began. His heart thudded hard in his chest. He was doing this. He was actually doing this. He was pissing into James’s mouth, pissing down his throat. He was… He was USING him… Ethan let out a strange noise that was a mixture of nervousness and relief. It felt good to let go, and he couldn’t stop, but… But he was USING James… He was…He was defiling him… James had been weirdly startled by the warmth of Ethan’s urine. He had no idea why, he knew full well that pee was warm, but it felt strange inside his mouth, going down his esophagus. The taste wasn’t anything James thought he’d ever find himself craving, but it wasn’t absolutely horrendous either. James didn’t think he would have cared that much if it HAD been revolting, anyway. James had to swallow quickly, The release pouring from Ethan’s tap was forceful and fast. Poor thing had held it so long, had held so much… It was all going to have to blast out now. Except, Ethan STILL didn’t seem to be relaxing. His body was still shuddering, his expression was still pinched. Their hands were still joined together. James squeezed down on Ethan’s hand again, rubbed a soothing circle into it with his thumb Ethan understood immediately. Ethan wasn’t using him. Ethan was merely accepting his help; Help that James was happy to give. And Ethan tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut and a sigh falling from his lips. James could feel the tension fading from his partner’s body, finding relaxation now as his bladder emptied itself. At last, James knew that he WAS helping, he WAS making Ethan feel all better. Warmth and fuzziness bubbled in his chest, and suddenly Ethan’s urine tasted a little bit better. Slowly, Ethan’s deluge faded into a slight dribble, and his cock began to stiffen within James’s mouth. Ethan squeezed James’s hand twice, firmly. James leaned back then, swallowing the last of the liquid that had seeped into his mouth. He looked at Ethan’s now hard cock, but didn’t get much more than a glance at it before Ethan turned away from him. “Ethan…?” “I— I’m so sorry,” Ethan said. “I’m really, really, really sorry. I know you wanted to help me, and I’m… I’m thankful. But… I’m sorry.” James came to his side. “You have nothing to apologize for. I offered to do that. You didn’t make me.” “Did… Did it feel… Degrading?” Ethan asked. “I don’t ever want to— To make you feel that way.” “It didn’t feel like that at all,” James said. “It felt like I was helping you, because I was.” “You… Did help,” Ethan said. “I feel better. I had to go so bad, James…” “I know,” James nodded. “But, everything’s okay now.” He put a hand against Ethan’s back, rubbed him there gently. “I’m here for you.” Ethan relaxed greatly at the touch, he started to tuck his penis back into his pants, when James glanced at it. It was still stiff, too stimulated from being enclosed in James’s warm mouth. “You want more help?” he asked. “James, we can’t do THAT in my office,” Ethan said, blushing. “You just pissed in my mouth in your office,” James reminded. “What’s one more thing?” Ethan thought about it. His erection didn’t seem to be fading. “Okay,” he said. “You can help me again.” “Yay!” James said, and immediately he was back on his knees, opening his mouth. This time, Ethan guided his length into James’s mouth himself, releasing a moan as James immediately began to suckle on it, occasionally flicking it with his tongue. He rubbed a hand through James’s hair, guiding his head down. “Th—Thank you…” he panted. “Thank you… Thank you… You make me feel so good…” James rubbed a hand overtop of his clothed crotch. Being praised didn’t get to him as much as it got to Ethan, but it still felt wonderful to hear him breathe those words out as he sucked away. He tongued Ethan’s tip, enjoying the taste of him. Tension built up in Ethan’s body, pleasure rolling over him as James continued to lick and flick at his cock. James took Ethan in further, swallowing him up to his base, and prompting a massive, massive moan from his lips. James’s mouth was so tight, so warm, so— Ethan frantically tapped on James’s shoulder to get his attention, but it was too late. He was already cumming, ejecting thick ropes of semen down his boyfriend’s throat. James reacted by simply CONTINUING to suck, hollowing out his cheeks and flexing his tongue against Ethan’s softening length. “Ohhhh,” Ethan groaned. “God— James— James—!” James withdrew from Ethan, gulping again, swallowing all of Ethan’s cum. Ethan stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you just—“ “Why are you surprised?” James laughed. “After what we just did?” Ethan blushed. “Um… Did it taste good?” “Yeah,” James said. “And I helped you again!” “Eheh, yeah…” Ethan said. “Let’s um… Let’s go home now. And I… Kinda want to give you something to drink that didn’t… Er… Didn’t… Come out of me. I wanna get you some water.” “I mean, one of those WAS water at one point,” James said. “And coffee. Mostly coffee, I guess.” “Um…Yeah,” Ethan said. “I just…” He pulled James into a hug. “Er… Thank you for doing that… You helped me. I feel good now.” James hugged back, “Yay! That’s all that matters!”
  8. Written for the Omovember prompt "In A School Uniform". The uniform here is somewhat based off the one I had to wear to school for one semester. (Minus the wool socks, that's an exaggeration to make Emmett have to drink more, haha.) *** Emmett absolutely HATED the new uniform he was being required to wear to school. The school had gone overboard on a punishment once again. Just because ONE group of kids had decided to wear t-shirts with explicit art on them to class as a joke, rather than giving that one, small group a bunch of detentions or something else that would deter them from repeating the stunt, the administration had decided that now EVERYBODY had to wear a uniform. Even Emmett— whom wore button up shirts and khaki pants pretty often— thought the outfits looked ridiculously dorky. The boys had to wear these dark blue vests overtop of a long-sleeved, white work-shirt, long, thick black slacks and a silver belt. The school even regulated what socks everyone had to wear— Thick, grey woolen ones. Not only did these outfits make everyone look like they were about to get shoved into a locker in some bad high school movie, but they were also way, WAY too freaking warm! Emmett lived in Florida— FLORIDA. It was called ‘the Sunshine State’ for a reason. It was warm all the time, often sweltering. Being forced to wear two layers over his chest— and long sleeved layers at THAT, super thick pants and woolen socks every single day to school felt like a form of torture that the Spanish Inquisition would have rejected for being too cruel. If the school’s goal was to make the students miserable, then they’d succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. "Did they… Do you think they specifically asked someone to design outfits that would torture anyone who puts them on?” Emmett asked as they got onto the bus one morning. He was DRENCHED in sweat already. He’d lathered on three extra coats of deodorant to try and help himself feel LESS disgusted by his body’s natural reaction to overheating, but it wasn’t helping very much. “Most likely,” Shelby said. “Who in the FUCK requires wool socks in freaking Florida?! My feet already feel like they’re swimming.” Emmett winced at the image, and at how much it felt like HIS feet were doing the same. Every day after school, when he peeled the sweat covered, squelching things off of himself, he would be met with revulsion as he saw how pruny his feet had gotten, and relief as the cool air conditioning of his house finally hit them. At school, Emmett was so uncomfortable and warm that he couldn’t focus on anything. All he could feel were the buckets of sweat rolling down his neck, down his back, and pooling inside his socks. Every part of his body felt damp and disgusting, like he’d just walked through a swamp. When he was given a test in one of his classes, he noticed drips of water forming on the paper, and a few seconds later realized that it was his own sweat dripping off his face. Out of pure desperation, he tried to roll up the sleeves on the shirt, and the legs of his pants. Small portions of his arms and legs were at last exposed to the cold air, and he was amazed by how much better he felt in just a matter of seconds. But, a few minutes later his teacher was standing in front of him. She wasn’t looking at his desk, but just at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m supposed to say something when I see someone out of uniform.” Emmett was not out of uniform. He was wearing all of it. Every ugly, dorky, way, way, WAY too fucking hot layer of it. “I’m not—“ “You’re not supposed to roll up the sleeves,” she said. “I’m sorry, it’s just the rule, I—“ “I— I’m so…” Emmett did not like arguing with his teachers, but the thought of having to return his lower arms to the rancid, hot and sweaty swamp inside those sleeves was too much. “I’m so hot…” he whispered. “I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry. It’s all I can think about.” “Try and drink some water, okay?” she suggested. “That should help you stay cooler. I’m REALLY sorry.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t tell anybody, but I voted AGAINST these uniforms, and I’m trying to convince the principal to get rid of them.” Emmett felt a little better hearing that. Even some of the teachers realized how unfair and harmful this was. He also took her advice and drank more from his water bottle, at first just trying to replenish all the fluid his pores kept ejecting down his body, and then because the cold fluid actually WAS making him feel less like he was standing on Mercury. He refilled his water bottle between every class, emptying it very quickly each time. And, all of that was why he had just now discovered what he hated the MOST about the new uniforms. It wasn’t how dorky they looked. It wasn’t how scratchy the vest was. It wasn’t even how painfully hot he felt when he had it on. What he hated most were the belt and the slacks. He was required to tuck the shirt and vest into the slacks, then fasten the belt around his waist. That belt and the shirt and the vest were squeezing on top of his extremely full bladder as he stood in front of a urinal, bouncing up and down frantically while all those big bottles of water he’d finished throughout the day SCREAMED at him that they wanted out. He hated the belt because it was way too tight, pinching his bladder, cutting firmly into its firm, round curve. He ALSO hated the belt because the buckle was currently jammed. The prong was caught beneath the bar, and he couldn’t pull it free and get the belt apart. Which was a pretty big problem thanks to the biggest reason he now hated the slacks; They didn’t have a zipper or button. The only way to free his dick was to pull it out over the waistband, but the tight belt had totally blocked his access. And he NEEDED to get his dick out. He NEEDED to get it our very, very soon! He’d spent the entirety of the last class clutching onto it and staring at the clock as he begged for time to move faster. The warm sweat that had been pouring off of him in buckets suddenly turned icy cold when he’d felt a little spurt of pee drizzle out of him during the last five minutes. And then, he’d RUN to the nearest restroom, gotten himself in front of this urinal in record time, reached for his belt, sphincters already going loose as he knew he was so, so close to relief… Then, he’d tried to get the belt apart. And tried again. And again. Horror had dawned on him as he realized the problem, and that he wasn’t close to relief at all. He stayed where he was, stayed in front of the urinal. Even if all the sight of it was doing was taunting him, he didn’t want to leave his spot. He needed to go so bad, he didn’t want to accept what was happening to him now. When he heard someone take one of the other urinals, heard them EASILY unclasp their belt and release a stream, Emmett whimpered in the back of his throat. ‘Please…’ he begged. ‘Please, I have to pee…’ he kept trying to free the prong from where it was stuck, but it had been bent wrong at some point and wouldn’t budge like it was meant to. 
The fact Emmett kept needing to grab himself again to stop his urine from gushing out wasn’t making it any easier to fix the problem. He shifted from foot to foot, urgency flaring through him. ‘Come ON, please!’ he thought, but the prong refused to slide out. “I can’t hold it…” he whispered under his breath. “Please, come on. I can’t hold it…” The other guy finished up at the urinal, and he looked over at Emmett. “Um… Do you not know how to use it, or something?” Emmett didn’t respond, just blushed hard. He knew he must have looked pretty silly, doing a major piss-dance in front of a toilet, mumbling about not being able to wait… “I promise, it’s really easy. You can figure it out if you try,” the guy continued, laughing as he left the room. Emmett grimaced. If their positions were reversed, Emmett probably would have asked what the problem was, since clearly there WAS one. He wouldn’t have made fun of the other person like that! Plus, that jerk didn’t even wash his hands… Suddenly, Emmett couldn’t handle looking at the urinal anymore. The sight of it was making his bladder contract hard, making his pee pump so firmly against his trembling sphincters that they felt like they were about to fall to pieces and leave him standing in a massive puddle. He stumbled backwards, towards the sinks as he kept fighting with the belt. But, it was clear that he couldn’t win— And the pulses from within that were causing him to grab his crotch were becoming so frequent that he couldn’t spend much time working on the belt anymore. He had to face the facts; That belt WASN’T going to unclasp for him right now. He was going to piss his pants. He was going to be covering himself in even MORE disgusting fluids than usual today— Something even worse than the lake of sweat his feet were already soaking in. And, then what? He’d have to keep sitting in his pee since he STILL couldn’t get his stupid pants off! But, it wasn’t like he could just STAY in these clothes forever, right? He HAD to get them off eventually somehow. There had to be a way he could do it. He reached a hand away from his dick and felt the material of the belt. Just like everything else he was forced to wear, it was pretty thick. There must be SOMETHING he could use on it, though… He exited the restroom, wincing as his bladder shot him a very confused and angry pang as he left without relieving it. The hallways were empty now, everybody was in class. Emmett had… Never been late to class before. Ever. Anxiety churned inside him, a heavy lead weight that slammed hard into his poor bladder. He stumbled into his next class, and his teacher shot him a sharp look. “You’re late,” she stated. “I kn—know, Ms. Hancroft,” Emmett said. “I’m sorry, I… I’m having a problem. Could I t—talk to you?” “Oh, we’ll talk plenty after class,” she said. “Sit down.” Emmett wanted to protest, but knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He took his seat and immediately started to fan his knees in and out. His hands returned to his crotch and squeezed away. Shelby was beside him, and stared at him. She’d seen him wriggling and squirming all through the last class, and when he was so late to this one, she was sure he must have decided to be rational for once and use the restroom here. Apparently not. “Why were you late?” she asked. “B—Because I have to pee!” Emmett whispered. “Be quiet.” “Um… If you’re late because you needed to go… Why does it still look like you—“ “The clasp thingy on my belt got bent up somehow, I can’t get it loose,” Emmett explained. “Now, quiet!” Shelby looked at him for another second. She hadn’t considered until that moment that the new uniform pants didn’t have zippers. No way was he getting his… thing out of there without getting the belt off first. “Cut a hole in the crotch of your pants,” she suggested. “I can’t! I’d have to walk around all day like that!” “If you don’t, you’ll have to walk around all day covered in—“ “Emmett, Shelby,” Ms. Hancroft snapped. “What is so interesting to the two of you that it can’t wait until after school?” Emmett fell silent, blushing hard. Shelby did not share his embarrassment. “Emmett’s belt won’t come apart and he has to pee, like, super, super bad,” she announced. “Shelby, please!” Emmett squeaked out. He’d been so thankful to be sitting in the BACK of the room where it was unlikely his classmates would notice all his writhing. Now, he knew, they’d all be watching him carefully. Ms. Hancroft sighed. “If your brother needs the restroom, he should have gone between classes.” “I tr-tried…” Emmett mumbled. “He couldn’t. His belt’s stuck, remember?” Shelby said. “We will not be discussing this any further,” Ms. Hancroft said. “Stop disrupting everyone else. Now, I’ll be seeing BOTH of you after class.” Emmett’s heart sank. He’d had a little smidge of hope that, after hearing the problem, Ms. Hancroft would offer a solution rather than just more scolding. Of course, he couldn’t be so lucky. But maybe, just maybe, when she held them after class she could be persuaded to help out. Emmett just had to make it that long, which seemed a LOT easier said than done. He’d barely managed to hold out through his LAST class, after which he’d been so certain of relief that his bladder was STILL reeling from having it snatched away. His body was continuing to spasm in urgent, confused pangs, still unable to comprehend why he hadn’t urinated yet. His bladder couldn’t grasp the concept of a faulty belt keeping its only exit-pathway trapped behind thick fabric. His bladder just knew that, five minutes ago, he’d been facing a urinal and SHOULD have been letting everything flow! Emmett’s knee bounced frantically beneath his desk, and his hand refused to release his dick. He knew people were glancing back at him now, he heard them snickering at the visual confirmation that he really DID have to pee like, super, super badly just as Shelby had said. But, he couldn’t help the fidgeting! Staying still for even just ten seconds would give his bladder enough leeway to pump out a few spurts of liquid. He HAD to do what he could to pin his pipes closed. He didn’t hear a single word Ms. Hancroft said after that, all he could hear were the urgent wails coming from within his own body. The worst part was that he was STILL sweating— Actually he was sweating quite a bit MORE than he’d been earlier since holding back his flood was taking so much effort. Sweating was not helping him keep his pee at bay. It was making him thirstier, when the last thing his bladder needed was more water. And, he was sweating so profusely all over that his crotch-region already felt pretty drenched. His boxers were stickily clinging to his thighs in a way that felt absolutely revolting, and made it difficult to tell if the liquid he felt around the head of his cock was just more sweat, or the product of a few more leaks he hadn’t been able to notice slipping past his defenses. Emmett had plenty of experience with being desperate for a pee, and he had plenty of experience with being sweaty and overheated, but he’d never had to endure BOTH of those things to this extreme a degree at the same time before. He felt utterly miserable. He badly wished he could just be HOME right now. At home, Dad would probably have something that would slice the stupid belt right off of him. Then he could go straight to the bathroom, peel off all this disgusting, heavy clothing, relieve his poor bladder into the toilet, and take a nice, long, cold shower. Finally, he’d be comfortable. He wouldn’t feel like he was on fire and carrying a bomb in his abdomen anymore. He’d be cool, relaxed and empty… His fantasy was far too vivid for his body, and when he felt more liquid sloshing in his boxers, he knew for sure that it was pee and not sweat. He squeezed his cock tightly and made the leak stop, but there was still so much in there that had to come out, and he STILL didn’t know how he was supposed to get his pants out of the way before it all came pouring through him. He wished he could at least get the belt to loosen up a little. He hadn’t thought it had been too tight when he’d put it on that morning, but now it felt like the thing was three sizes too small for him. It was straining to wrap all the way around his body, and his bladder was being strangled within an inch of its life in the process. Emmett kept looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until class ended. Partway through, he questioned why he was even bothering to do that. Once class ended… Then what? He wouldn’t be rushing to a toilet and unloading his bladder. He’d be having a discussion with Ms. Hancroft that was very unlikely to actually end with his belt being removed. ‘Maybe she will help,’ Emmett tried to be optimistic, but that was difficult for him to do even in the best of circumstances. His present dilemma was so far from ideal that thinking happy thoughts was borderline impossible. Class finally ended, and Emmett abruptly stood to his feet when he heard the bell rang. It was a purely involuntary response, his bladder had recognized the noise as one that meant he could use the toilet now, it was still incapable of understanding everything that was wrong. Emmett jiggled up and down, lifting one foot off the ground and then the other as he almost skipped in place. Moving around so much was making him feel even warmer, but he couldn’t stop! 
Finally, the class emptied and Ms. Hancroft stood in front of his and Shelby’s desks. “Shelby, those were inappropriate things to say during class,” she stated. “You asked what we were talking about,” Shelby shrugged. Ms. Hancroft glowered at her. She sighed. “Emmett, this is your first time ever being tardy… What happened?” “L—Like she said,” Emmett stammered. “I have to… Um… I need to… Use the restroom,” he managed. He didn’t understand why she was making him say this. He was doubled over, his knees knocking together as his hands squeezed away at his crotch. It should have been pretty obvious what he had to do. “And… My belt won’t come apart, so I… I’m kind of ‘stuck’…” “I’m sure it’s not stuck,” Ms. Hancroft said. “It is,” Emmett said, miserable. “I don’t know, the metal on the claspy-thing is warped, I can’t move it. I need something to cut through the belt.” “Well, if you really can’t get it open, I… Guess gardening sheers might cut through it.” Emmett didn’t know where he’d find a set of those. “Um… Does the janitor have some, or—“ “You can do that at home,” Ms. Hancroft interrupted. “You need to remain in your uniform on school grounds, that means you need your belt on.” ‘Are you SERIOUS?’ Emmett wanted to yell. There were four hours left of the school day— Not even counting the time it would take to get home. He would LITERALLY explode if he tried to hold his pee until then. “I—I’ll tie the cut halves of it together, or something,” he said. “And I’ll wear that. I—“ “It needs to be on and fastened,” Ms. Hancroft said. “That’s the policy.” Emmett’s bladder didn’t give a fuck about what the ‘policy’ was. It was GOING to empty itself VERY soon, and he’d prefer it if his pants were out of the way when that inevitably happened. “Aren’t there any spare ones, then?” “No, it’s your responsibility to come to school wearing your uniform.” “That’s so stupid,” Shelby said what Emmett was thinking. “Shelby,” Ms. Hancroft said firmly. “These rules exist for a reason.” Emmett was the kind of person that ALWAYS followed the rules, he hated getting in trouble or making people angry. Emmett’s brain also had a habit of spitting out strange and illogical rules that he’d be compelled to follow; Such as telling him he needs to flick his lamp on and off exactly three times before bed each night to keep bugs out of his room— This was something he knew didn’t make much sense, but he would feel a skittering, twisting feeling in his chest whenever he tried not to do it. Yet, even with its own peculiar penchant for making up ridiculous rules alongside nonsensical reasons that they needed to be obeyed, Emmett’s mind could not think of a single reason that he needed to follow a rule that would cause him to pee his pants at school and then (presumably) be made to sit in it until he could get home and cut his belt off. “Wh—What is the reason?” Emmett asked, shocked that those words had actually come out of his mouth. “The uniforms were chosen to help you focus on class instead of on what one another is wearing.” 
What. Was him NOT wearing the stupid belt somehow more distracting to everyone than him doing a desperate pee dance for hours, pissing all over himself, and then wearing urine soaked clothes for the rest of the day? And… ‘To help you focus’? Emmett hadn’t been able to focus at ALL since the uniforms had been introduced. All he’d learned during the past few weeks was that he could sweat enough during the course of a single day that his feet pruned up like they did when he took his super long showers. And TODAY he’d been even LESS focused because, in addition to trying to fight off a freaking heat-stroke, he’d been so full of pee that he felt like his back teeth were drowning! “I… I can’t focus when I really have to—“ “It’s one day,” Ms. Hancroft said. “Wait until you get home, fix the belt issue, and come back tomorrow with a new one.” “But, I can’t hold it until th—“ “You really think ANYBODY’S gonna be focused after he pisses everywhere?” Shelby asked. Emmett REALLY wished she would stop saying things like that! He felt like he was boiling alive already, he didn’t need someone making him blush on top of that! “Shelby, language,” Ms. Hancroft scolded. “This is stupid,” Shelby repeated. “Nobody is going to notice if he doesn’t have a belt, everyone’s gonna notice if he pees on the floor.” Gah! Listening to her say that was making Emmett’s bladder spasm even more! Just hearing words like ‘pee’ or ‘piss’ was enough to make him cross his legs tighter. His body had begun to vibrate now, he was so tense that he was shaking uncontrollably. “I will send you to the office if you keep talking like that,” Ms. Hancroft warned. “Both of you, get to class.” Emmett fumbled his way out of the classroom, his mind buzzing in an absolute panic. He had to pee SO much! There was a zero percent chance of him making it home before his bladder exploded. He was still struggling to tell the difference between his sweat and his urine, but he KNEW he’d lost at least a FEW more spurts while Ms. Hancroft had been talking to him. This was all just so unfair! He needed the belt OFF! He needed it off NOW! Why couldn’t Ms. Hancroft just UNDERSTAND that he couldn’t simply ‘wait until he got home’ to take care of his problem? His problem was going to take care of ITSELF very soon if he didn’t get a handle on things! And now, after just having been in trouble for being late to ONE class, he was late to ANOTHER because Ms. Hancroft had kept him there for so long. Shelby walked beside him. He was about to miserably force himself down the hall that led to his next class, but Shelby squeezed his shoulder and started to drag him in the other direction. “Shelby, wh—what are you—“ “Come on,” Shelby said. “We’re fixing this.”
 “But, she said that I have to—“ “These rules are stupid, you shouldn't follow dumb rules,” Shelby said. She led him down the hall and up to the janitor’s closet. “What’s—“ Shelby knocked on the door. “I hope he’s—“ The door opened, the janitor— the same one that had accidentally caught Emmett relieving himself into a mop bucket months ago— was standing there. He looked at them, his eyes lingering on Emmett’s frantic fidgeting. “Um… Is one of the bathrooms busted?” he guessed. “No,” Shelby said. “The clasp on his belt got bent out of shape and he can’t open it. We need something to cut through the material fast.” Emmett was immensely relieved that she didn’t tack on something like “We need something to cut through the material fast, before he has a huge accident and floods the entire school.” But, before he could let any breath from his lungs, his hips wriggled from how badly he still needed to feel a different kind of relief. The janitor kept staring. “Um… Okay,” he said. “I have the shears I use to trim the bushes out front, would that help?” Shelby nodded. “Yes.” He reached up onto a shelf. “Alright, be REALLY careful, I could get into a lot of trouble for this.” “We will be,” Shelby said, turning to Emmett “You want to cut it, or— Oh, I guess I should do it, right? Don’t want you wielding a sharp thing around down there when you’re so shaky! What if Nova decides she wants kids some day?” “Shelby, for the love of God, just cut the stupid belt before I burst!” Emmett begged. Shelby stood to Emmett’s left and struggled to place the belt between the blades of the shears. It didn’t help that Emmett’s hips wouldn’t stop wriggling! “Hold still…” she said. “And don’t put your belt on so tight, there’s barely any space!” Emmett groaned, “I’m TRYING to stay still!” he whined. And… The belt had actually felt too LOOSE when he’d put it on this morning! He couldn’t believe how tight it seemed now. Shelby finally got the blades in the right place and pressed down as hard as she could. The things were sharp, definitely strong, but she still struggled to saw through the material of the belt. Finally, there was a very loud SNAP and the horrid, awful thing that had been confining Emmett for so long fell to the floor, and he was pissing. FUCK, FUCK, NO! He was so close, just sto— But, then he looked down. No puddle was forming. There wasn’t any hissing emitting from between his legs. 
He WASN’T pissing. That sudden feeling of pressure dissipating HADN’T been his bladder splitting open. It had just been the release of the horrifically constricting strap that had been squeezing into it. Where the belt had once strangled firmly into his abdomen, he now saw a swollen, distended bump protruding noticeably in his center. His lower stomach was rounded with his firm, overfull bladder— A massive, stone-hard ball of urine where it had once been smooth and flat— VERY visible even with the thick shirt and vest still covering it. No wonder his belt had suddenly been feeling too tight… Shelby was staring at him— Or, more specifically, at the swell resting painfully inside him. She’d seen him desperate many, many times, but she’d never seen… That. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her own body do anything like that before either. “Are you okay!?” Emmett shook his head quickly, turning about and trying to think of which restroom was closest to his current position. His mind made up, he rushed down the hallway. Shelby followed after him, thinking that if they were BOTH late to their next class he might feel a little better about it. By the time she’d caught up, the restroom door was already swinging shut behind him. ‘Jeez, he moves fast when he needs to piss…’ 
 Inside the restroom, Emmett had arrived at the same urinal he’d failed to use earlier, this time, he easily lowered the waistband of his pants and reached in for his cock. The inside of his boxers felt extremely clammy and gross, he still wasn’t sure if it was mostly sweat or mostly urine, but either way he wanted it off of him. He retrieved his slick, wet member, a droplet of clear pee already hanging from its tip as he aimed. To his dismay, in spite of his horrid desperation, when he told his bladder to release, his stream trickled out in a dismal, slow manner, like trying to pump water out of an old, rusty tap. His muscles had been tight and tense for so long that they refused to relax themselves all the way and give him the relief he craved. “C—Come on…” he begged his dribbles to increase into a jet, but he was still just barely letting it out. He reached a hand beneath his shirt, and started to rub it against his bladder. He flinched and jerked his hand back— Not from pain (although that HAD hurt), but from the shock of how his bladder actually FELT. For some reason, when he’d noticed the bump he’d thought it looked squishy and malleable, but in reality it was hard as stone, heavy and firm, like it would need to be broken up by a pickaxe. The feeling of it, the knowledge that something like THAT existed in his body— was STUCK inside his body, made him panic. Did he need to go to a hospital?! He wanted to wait until all the pee was out of him before he freaked out— surely his abdomen would be flat again once the urine was gone, right? But, his fear made it even TRICKIER to open his faucet up the rest of the way. He heard the door open and tensed his back, hoping that whoever just came in wouldn’t notice and comment on his problem like the guy from earlier had. “Did you piss yourself?” he heard Shelby ask. “No!” Emmett stammered. “Why are you— Get out! I’m trying to go!” “You actually have to TRY to do that right now?” “It… I held it too long, I can’t… I need to go to the hospital.” Emmett tried to explain. He was averaging about three drips of piss per second. “I probably have urinary retention. Or a bladder stone.” Shelby rolled her eyes. His catastrophizing self-diagnoses were NEVER to be encouraged. In the past he’d convinced himself that he had Ebola because his throat was sore. He’d also become convinced he was suffering from Stoneman Syndrome when his shoulders felt stiffer than usual. He’d self-diagnosed himself with severe Hypochondria once, and when he did THAT Shelby wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “I doubt it’s that serious… Just pee.” “I’m TRYING, it’s just… It’s barely—“ Shelby cranked one of the sinks on. “There,” she said. She turned on the one next to it. “Even better.” Emmett stomped his feet hard against the floor, “Ack—! Stop that, it’s making it wor—“ He was interrupted when his sphincters finally broke and allowed his stream to really start gushing. “Ahhhhhhh…..” “That helping you?” Shelby asked. “Yessss…” Emmett answered blearily. “Helps a lot…” He shivered as it all came rushing out of him at last. He felt the most wonderful sensation of ‘shrinking’ happening in his lower belly, and hoped that meant the freaky swelling he’d seen there was vanishing. Pee continued to spray away for close to two minutes, and then he fumbled his member back into his pants. “Ahhh…” he sighed again, going to the still running sink. Shelby snickered as he put his hand under the water, and he turned to her. “Don’t laugh, I really had to go…” Shelby’s face fell after a second. She watched her brother scrubbing at his hands, using the sink that she’d cranked all the way to hot and now had steam flowing around it. After how hot he’d been today, she’d thought for sure that would get a yelp or a complaint out of him, but it was like he didn’t even notice the temperature of the water. “Heh, guess with how warm the uniforms are, even boiling water feels cool to you?” Shelby guessed. She looked, his hands were scorching pink and red all over… “Huh?” Emmett asked. “I only turned on the hot water,” Shelby said. “As a joke…” “Oh, well I always wash my hands with hot water, so I guess I didn’t notice” Emmett shrugged, switching the faucet off. “Cold water doesn’t kill germs as fast.” “It was steaming…” “Yeah,” Emmett nodded. “I usually wait for it to start doing that before—“ “…Are you okay?” Shelby asked for the second time that hour. “I’m fine,” Emmett said. He looked down, worried that the bulge in his belly was still there, but it was flat. “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t have to pee anymore.” That wasn’t what Shelby had been asking about. The two got to class, and were scolded for being over twenty minutes late. Emmett tried to explain what all had taken place, but before he got two words out he was already receiving a talking to for not having his belt on. He was warned that if he did anything like that again this week, he would be given a detention. Emmett sat at his desk and sighed heavily. He thought he’d have a much easier time following the school’s rules if they didn’t all make it so hard to pee.
  9. Written for the Omovember prompt "While Undercover". I hope this one fits, I had a little trouble with this prompt. *** Every so often, the senior class would have to speak at an assembly for the younger grades in the auditorium. They mostly just each had to read off something generic about school spirit and the policies that needed to be followed. The seniors hated trying to instill excitement about a football team that hadn’t won a game in three years, or trying to explain how ‘important’ it was that nobody dye their hair. The younger grades hated being packed into the auditorium and forced to listen to something they’d already heard hundreds of times before. Shelby hated having to be on stage THIS time for two reasons; First, she’d been tasked with reading off something about the incredibly unfair dress code. The one that said guys could basically wear whatever they wanted so long as they didn’t go shirtless, while girls would be suspended for the day if their knees or elbows were visible. It really sucked when it was a hundred degrees outside and she had to wear long pants while all the guys could wear shorts and tank tops. Second; as she stood in line for the microphone, Shelby was fighting against an extremely harsh pressure in her middle, along with twinges of nervousness. Even after she finished HER stupid recitation, she’d still have to wait for everyone behind her in line to finish theirs before she could use the toilet. These assemblies could last a while, and her bladder was sure to only ache more and more. By the time she was next in line, she was already crossing her legs and squeezing her thighs. At first, she was grateful that her turn was coming up, thinking that she may be able to sneak out of the auditorium and use the restroom somehow, but then she felt her urethra flare rather painfully. Squeezing her eyes shut, she released a mix between a harsh groan and a strained gasp, tensing her legs more and more. She quickly came to the pretty frightening realization that there was, indeed, some chance of her soaking her pants while she stood at the microphone. Trying not to let that terror get the better of her, she took several steadying breaths before forcing herself to take her spot at the front of the line. And then, she read the paper she’d been given. ‘God…’ she thought as the words left her mouth. ‘Who wrote this crap?’ “Ladies,” she began. “Modesty is important.” She fought hard not to sigh. ’The Hell is immodest about wearing shorts during the Summer in god damned Florida? It’s not like anybody comes to school in a swimsuit…’ It was even harder for her to read the page when she was fighting against a bladder that was consistently begging for relief. Crossing her legs so tight they felt numb barely helped anymore, and being forced to say things that she so vehemently disagreed with made it worse. “‘When you come to school in provocative clothing, such as shorts or T-shirts, you are distracting your male classmates from their learning environment,’” she rattled off, unsure what could be so hot about a kneecap or an ankle. More panic bubbled within her as she felt her bladder spasm hard, her pee-hole twitching as her holding muscles strained to hold everything back. The harsh thudding against her sphincters made Shelby move her hips from side to side as if she were dancing, squeezing her thighs tautly together. She rushed through the rest of her paper, then hurriedly joined the other members of her class that had already had their turns. With some dismay, she counted the ones that still hadn’t gone, trying to gauge how much longer she’d have to stand here and hold it. She felt more sharp pokes and prods against her urethra, and she rocked from side to side, fighting to calm them down. They just kept coming though, wave after wave of horrific need. Her brother joined her next. “Shelby…” he whispered with concern. watching her jogging in place. “Are you alright?” “Dying for a piss,” Shelby answered, her voice strained and hoarse. “And, if I ever have to read that sexist shit out loud again, I’m gonna egg the principal’s house.” “Don’t do that again,” Emmett said. “Last time, Dad yelled at ME too for not stopping you. I was like, ‘she didn’t even say she was gonna—‘“ “Shhh,” Shelby hushed, noticing one of the teachers at the front of the audience was looking at them. Emmett was so bad at breaking rules, he didn’t even know to keep an eye on who was watching before talking out of turn. And NOW that teacher was apparently going to KEEP watching them, so Shelby’s chances of sneaking out for a pee were obliterated to nothing. As more time wore on, each second weighing heavily inside her bladder, she was overcome with the urge to reach down and cup her crotch, giving her very tired holding muscles a little assistance. She was embarrassed enough doing her little, fidgety dance up on stage though. There was still at least SOME chance that, even if someone noticed how much she was moving, they hadn’t figured out she was bursting for the toilet— It would be obvious if she started holding onto her crotch. Her hands kept inching in that direction though. Twice, she caught them creeping a little too close for comfort and she’d have to force them back to her sides, clenching them into fists. She knew if she DID grab herself, she wouldn’t be able to let go. At last, the final person had spoken, and the principal stood at the microphone to reiterate all the rules again, and then it was over. Everyone was dismissed. Finally… Shelby shoved her way backstage, rushing towards the exit door. Out in the halls, she rushed as quickly as she could, fully aware that she could end up getting BEATEN to all of the toilets in the school and being forced to wait in line. Her bladder could NOT handle a line, she had to get there FIRST, so she had to RUN no matter how much it made the pee within her try to come out! Immediately after having that thought, the pressure against her aching opening grew even worse, forcing her to stop completely. “Oh no,” Shelby whimpered softly. “No, no, no, no…” While she fought to regain control over the horrific spasm sweeping through her, she overheard the distinct voices of two girls she knew all too well. They were getting closer a lot faster than Shelby was okay with, and she started panicking even more when she felt a warm squirt of urine spurt its way into her clothes. Now, once those girls turned the corner, they were going to see Shelby practically pissing herself— No. Unacceptable. No way in Hell. She clenched her thighs as tight as possible, shoved her hands between her legs at last, and forced herself to start running again even faster than before. She managed to dart around another corner mere seconds before those two girls would have been able to see her. ‘Okay, dodged them,’ Shelby thought. No longer being able to hear them brought Shelby a lot of relief— Just not the sort of relief she DESPERATELY needed right now. After turning a few more corners and making her way down a couple more hallways, she was finally inches away from a women’s room. She shoved the door aside and darted into a stall. Finally… As fast as she could, and while stomping her feet against the tiled floor with needy urgency, she shoved her pants down and took a seat on the toilet. Truth be told, she’d been WANTING to stand up, the extra time it took to pull down her pants had allowed three more dribbles of urine to dot her underwear and could have been avoided if she’d stood— But, she’d NEVER stood to go at school, if someone she knew saw her do it… If the girls she’d nearly run into in the halls saw her… Besides, she’d been standing up for a while in the auditorium, and her legs had gotten sore from the continued tension flaring all through her body. It felt pretty good to get off her feet. But that was NOTHING compared to what she was about to feel. She let out a long sigh as she was at last able to let go of her bladder… Or so she thought. After just a drop or two had managed to plink into the water below her, Shelby’s eardrums were assailed by a heavy banging noise, followed by footsteps, and voices… Voices Shelby knew too well. Immediately upon recognizing them, Shelby instinctively clenched her opening again and crossed her legs, but not without another trickle of pee forcing itself out of her. Her lungs tightened— What if they’d heard? She tucked her hands against her bare crotch, and it took all she had not to whimper aloud, practically doubling over with the pain of having to resume holding again when she’d been so sure it was time to go… “God, I hate those fucking assemblies,” a smug voice declared— Samantha Blaire; A girl whom, years ago, had decided she just hated Shelby’s guts and wanted to make sure she knew it. Shelby didn’t even really know WHY. “Yeah,” another voice— Jessica Travis, Samantha’s best friend. “Like, do they really think the other grades are gonna follow the rules better just because WE read off the stupid cue cards?” Samantha asked. “I guess they figure if they hear something they think is ‘cool’ say it…” Jessica said. Shelby watched beneath the gap in her stall door, noticing Jessica tapping a foot, then rubbing that foot against the opposite ankle before crossing them for a second. “And did you notice what Shelby was doing?” Samantha asked. “Huh?” “Shaking her ass while she read that crap about the dress code,” Samantha stated. Shelby’s face flushed scarlet. Was THAT how it looked? She’d just been trying not to piss her pants… “I didn’t really notice,” Jessica said. “Why? You think she was trying to get some dude to look at her?” “Some dudeS,” Samantha emphasized. “You know she’s a slut, right?” Every word from Samantha’s mouth was like a knife to Shelby’s chest, and made her even more determined to hold her bladder at bay. She wasn’t going to let Samantha catch her in here. It was bad enough overhearing Samantha say those things, Shelby didn’t want them thrown directly in her face. She had to hold it… Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Holding it in while sitting on a toilet with her pants down was the hardest god damned thing in the world, though. The porcelain beneath her thighs, the fabric bunched up around her legs, the sight of the locked stall door right in front of her… So many things telling her body that it was time to release… Her mind whirled as she wriggled painfully against the toilet seat, hands still clasping her opening for dear life. Was there some way she could pee silently? She tended to have really forceful, hissy streams— Especially when she was this desperate! Could she maybe control the flow, let it out super super slowly so it wasn’t audible? No, if she relaxed at all, it was all gonna pour out. No way could she just pee a drop at a time. She didn’t think ANYONE could do that. Could she hold wads of toilet paper against her crotch and let her bladder out into it? Would that be silent? She didn’t think so… And she couldn’t take the risk. Maybe if she sat really far forward so that her pee wouldn’t land into the water inside the bowl? Well, no. That wouldn’t be ‘silent’ either. When she stood, she sometimes aimed away from the water and it still made SOME noise. Shelby needed to be totally silent! Which meant there was NO way for her to piss. Ohhh, how long were they gonna be in here for?! “Ironic they had HER read the stuff about the dress code,” Samantha was saying. “And then she goes and dances like she’s at a strip club.” 
 “I— I don’t know,” Jessica said. “I didn’t even notice she was dancing at ALL…” she trailed off. “We’re gonna be late for class,” she complained. “And I still need to actually USE the bathroom, remember?” “Oh, alright,” Samantha said. “I’d better go, too.” Shelby heard two more stalls getting shut and locked, then the muffled noise of clothing being moved. She tensed every muscle she had as she braced against what came next. A second later, the sound of urine spraying into toilet bowls echoed throughout the room. “Ahhhhhhhhhh….” Jessica sighed. “Mmmmm….” Samantha responded. “God, this feels SO much better… I don’t think I realized how bad I had to go.” “Told you,” Jessica said. “Those stupid assemblies are always crazy-long. I’m surprised I was the only one totally bursting by the end of it.” The two girls kept peeing, the hiss of their streams making Shelby’s situation worse and worse as her bladder pleaded to be allowed to join them. The noises were like sirens, trying to draw out everything Shelby was fighting her hardest to hold back. She squirmed roughly on her seat, crossing her legs as tight as she could handle. The hands clamped against her opening were getting wet with sweat— Oh, please, let it just be sweat… “You know what I’ve heard?” Samantha asked, and Shelby heard her pulling her pants back up before flushing the toilet. Jessica, still releasing a torrent that was making Shelby shudder, asked; “What?” “I’ve heard Shelby pisses like a boy.” “Huh?” Jessica laughed. “What do you mean?” An intense amount of shame filled Shelby’s chest. How— How did Samantha find out? Who told? Emmett wouldn’t do that, neither would Nova or Eric, and the only other person who knew was her Dad and why the Hell would HE tell anybody about it? So then HOW? “I mean she pisses like a boy,” Samantha repeated, banging her stall door open. “Standing up.” “That’s not possible,” Jessica said. “She’s a girl.” “Oh, but she DOES,” Samantha said. “One of my sisters was at the movie theater a while ago, she says she saw it while she was waiting in line for a stall. Shelby ran in there like she was about to pee her pants and then she used the toilet while standing up.” Shelby felt all the air leave her lungs. It was her own fault Samantha knew. It was her own fault for standing to pee in a public restroom where someone would notice. “So,” Samantha continued. “Shelby must have something she’s not telling anyone about.” “Nuh-uh,” Jessica said. “I saw her at the pool once in a swimsuit.” “Fair enough,” Samantha replied. “Then, I guess this just happens when someone doesn’t have a mom around to teach them how to be a girl.” Shelby felt like she was being kicked in the face with those words, the tears threatening to gush from her eyes like the urine from her bladder. She didn’t know which was more unbearable, the emotional pain of Samantha’s words, or the physical pain of holding back her pee. She couldn’t let herself cry. Couldn’t let herself pee… Couldn’t let Samantha notice and find out how deep she’d managed to cut… “Jesus,” Samantha said. “Aren’t you done yet?” “I really needed to go,” Jessica said. “Well, I’ll save you a seat in the next class,” Samantha said, washing her hands and leaving. Shelby kept listening to Jessica pee, rocking silently back and forth on the toilet. After five more agonizing seconds, she heard some toilet paper being ripped, clothes being rearranged and another flush. Shelby jumped at the loud bang of the stall door, hearing Jessica leave the restroom so fast that she didn’t wash her hands— Shelby supposed she was going to have to tell Emmett not to touch anything she’d touched. Shaking, Shelby started to inch her hands away from her crotch, worried that Samantha or Jessica would come back in at any second. Once she was convinced they weren’t returning, she removed her hands with a heavy sigh. She finally let her holding muscles ease as she leaned back, entering a state of blissful relief. “Ahhhhhhhhhh….” Shelby moaned, piss jetting out of her and splashing loudly and violently into the bowl. The sensation of her bladder draining after all this time made her back arch and spine shudder. She was twitching and trembling. The feelings of release were so extreme it was almost like a full body massage working out all the tension that had accumulated in her body today. Her eyelids fluttered gently shut, and she could actually FEEL the way her bladder was shrinking. After over a minute, her bladder was spent, finally dry and empty. Shelby was still shaking as she continued sitting on the toilet, trying to relax and readjust to a world in which she wasn’t struggling to hold a barrel of pee. She got up onto her weak, jelly-like legs and flushed the toilet before pulling up her pants and zipping them. “Ahhh…” she sighed once more. That was better… She washed her hands off, but when she saw her reflection in the mirror, all of Samantha’s words rushed back to her mind and all the euphoria of her relief fled from it. Was she just… Bad at being a girl? Was she bad at it because her Mom wasn’t around? Shelby didn’t even know there was a right and wrong way to be a girl, it was supposed to be one of those things a person just WAS, right? When her Mom was alive, she’d never told Shelby any specific things she was supposed to do or NOT do because she was a girl. Mom hadn’t tried to steer her away from things people said were more for boys, or towards things people said were more for girls. And she hadn’t done the reverse for Emmett. Neither of their parents had. They saw that Shelby liked video games and computers and that Emmett liked reading and taking care of animals, and they’d never said anything was wrong with that. Mom didn’t make Shelby bake cookies, Dad didn’t make Emmett play sports. Shelby found herself wondering more about Samantha. Did Samantha’s Mom make her do certain things a certain way because she was a girl? Was that why she’d said that? Shelby was surprised, but she actually felt bad for her bully if that was the case.
  10. Written for the Omovember prompt "Dressed As The Opposite Sex". This one is dark. Warnings for conversion therapy, transphobia, deadnaming, abuse, and self-harm. *** The isolation room was the second worst place in the conversion therapy center. Second worst only because nothing could ever outdo the shock chair. In the isolation room, Avery was forced to lay facedown on a dirty, ice-cold concrete floor twenty-four hours a day, save for a few brief respites. Every twelve hours, one of his ‘therapists’ would silently escort him to the restroom, then Avery would be allowed to sit on the toilet for no longer than two minutes and do whatever he needed to do. He would not be permitted to shut the door, but the ‘therapist’ would face away from him. When this was first explained to him, it was in a tone that suggested he should feel grateful that they weren’t going to full-on stare at him the entire time he relieved himself. After the toilet break, he would be sat down at a vacant table and given a tray. The tray always held the same things; half of a peeled orange and a thin slice of cheese wedged between two slices of bread. This would be all of the food he received each day that he was in isolation— Which was only slightly less than he got normally at this center. His stomach clawed at him nonstop, he’d never been so hungry before in his life. They’d give him water during his ‘meals’ as well, a big bottle of it. Avery would always drink it all just to try and make his stomach feel less empty. He’d always regret it. If Avery spoke at any point during his time outside the isolation room, he would be sent right back inside. If he hadn’t peed or eaten yet before breaking the silence rule, he would have to wait until his next break for another chance to do those things. This hadn’t been explained to him the very first time he’d been placed in isolation. The door had opened, a woman gestured for him to stand up and come outside. Avery, whom had been wriggling desperately for the last two hours, eagerly struggled to his feet. He naively assumed his punishment was over and begged for the bathroom straight away. “May I please, please use the toilet now, please? I really need to go!” The woman had then shaken her head and ordered him to lay back down on the ground. “You aren’t supposed to speak when you’re in isolation,” she informed briskly. “Clearly you need more time before we give you a break.” Avery’s eyes had welled up then as he heard the door slam shut and lock. Soon enough, he’d made a puddle on the floor, and was forced to lay in it for the next twelve hours as his empty stomach pleaded for food. He stayed quiet the next time the door was opened, and this time the woman sneered at him “Once your punishment is over, you’re cleaning this whole room from top to bottom. Look at yourself, Brittney. You’re disgusting.” Somehow, being called ‘Brittney’ hurt a billion times worse than being called ‘disgusting’. Avery had felt incredibly disgusting, following after the woman to the restroom that he was once more desperate to use, his damp underwear coldly clinging to him. He’d sat himself on the toilet and released his poor bladder, sniffling and fighting not to cry. He was then given his food, which he finished in under a minute. Then the water, which ensured he’d be dying to pee yet again soon enough. To his dismay, he was not given a change of clothes, just placed back into the empty room still wearing his soaked, sticky ones. He didn’t care that he’d pissed all over the ugly-ass dress he was being forced to wear, but he DID care that he was being forced to continue stewing in his own waste. Avery’s first stint in isolation lasted for a week. He wasn’t allowed clean clothes until he was finally released, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to wash himself until then either. He wet himself a few more times over the course of those days, too. Twelve hours was just too long for him, and sometimes they’d ‘forget’ that it was his break time and leave him in even longer. By the end of it, he reeked of urine and sweat, his eyes were sunken in, his face was pale, and he’d lost five pounds. After his first stint in isolation, Avery tried his best not to get sent back in. The problem was, he could be sent to isolation for anything. Sometimes, the ‘therapists’ asked Avery lots of questions about why he’d ‘chosen’ to do something that hurt his parents and would damn him to Hell. He learned very early on not to argue with them about how being trans hadn’t been a choice that he’d made, but none of the other answers he came up with were ever satisfactory either. Saying “It was wrong of me, I will try harder to stop being this way,” which was what he’d been SURE they’d wanted to hear, still got him slapped and called names. He tried throwing out line after line, hoping he’d hit upon something that made them stop, but it never did. Before long, they’d grown fed up with it and tossed him back into isolation for the next week. Another time, Avery had woken up in his bed in the middle of the night and just begun uncontrollably sobbing. He didn’t even really know why. But, crying and making noise in the night wasn’t allowed in the therapy center, so he was dragged from his bed and into the isolation room still wearing the stupid, frilly nightgown they’d given him. What had gotten him sent to isolation this time was ‘fighting’. But, Avery wasn’t sure if that was the right word for what he’d done. His ‘therapists’ had brought him back into the room where the shock chair was and he’d just… Broken down at the sight of it. He couldn’t fully remember what all had happened, just that he’d screamed enough that now his throat ached, and that it had ended with him being held down by two of the buffer ‘therapists’ before being dragged to isolation. He laid on the floor now like he was supposed to, his body shaking so hard it was vibrating against the cold ground. He could hardly breathe; shortness of breath had become a common thing for him lately. Sometimes he’d just start hyperventilating at complete random. It was like an asthma attack, except Avery didn’t have asthma… Tears were going down his face, but he cried so often now that he barely noticed them. He knew the point of isolation was, allegedly, for him to think long and hard about why he’d been sent to this center, and that was what he tried to do whenever he was in here. Avery had always thought his parents were wrong for sending him away, and that the people here were monsters. But, the longer he endured the ‘treatment’, the more convinced he became that HE was the real monster, that he really did have to be fixed. When these thoughts creeped in, Avery tried to shut them out. He hadn’t done anything wrong. All he wanted was to be himself. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted? He stared at the blank wall in front of him, eyes darting from it to all the others, and to the heavy, locked metal door. He was trapped in this room, but even after someone came and released him, he’d still be just as trapped. There was no escape from this place. None at all. The door that led outside was secured with a special code that only the ‘therapists’ knew. Avery hadn’t been outdoors since the day he’d arrived here. He hadn’t felt the sun in so long. There weren’t many windows in this building, but from what Avery could see, it looked like this place was located in a forest. Even if he managed to guess the code and run outside, he’d just get lost in an unfamiliar place, no doubt found by one of his jailers before long. He didn’t even want to think about what his punishment would be after that. Avery felt like he’d been here for half his life, though he knew that couldn’t have been true. He had no idea when he’d be released. Or even IF he would be released. He’d asked a few times how long he had until he could go home, but he’d never gotten an answer. For all he knew, he would be spending the rest of his life here. More tears. There was nothing Avery had to look forward to anymore, every day was going to be the same. Painful, humiliating, and filled with people hellbent on destroying him. He already felt destroyed. He had no love for himself anymore, only hatred. He had no love for anyone else, either. His parents had done this to him, the people he’d thought would always take care of him. How could he ever trust another person now? There was only one person Avery still had any confidence in; His Uncle Brad who lived in New York City. He’d been emailing Brad a lot up until his parents had him shipped off here. Avery had had no idea he was being sent away and so hadn’t mentioned it in his emails. Uncle Brad might have been worried about him when the correspondence suddenly stopped, especially since so many of the previous messages had been about how scared Avery had been of his parents since he’d come out to them. Uncle Brad must have had some idea that something bad had happened. Sometimes, in isolation, Avery would fantasize to himself about Brad somehow learning where he was and coming to free him. Brad would hold him close then and promise to never let anyone hurt him ever again. Brad would say the same things he’d said in the emails ‘You can be whoever you want, Avery. No one gets to decide that for you.’ Brad would take him away from here, and buy him a really big dinner, so Avery could stuff himself until he finally felt full instead of listless and empty. Brad would let him sleep in a nice, warm bed that felt safe. Brad would let Avery cry, and wouldn’t beat him or lock him up for it. Sometimes, Avery would imagine these things so intensely that he’d manage to convince himself they were real, only for something to bring him back to the reality that he was just laying on the cold, hard floor, awaiting his next punishment. The thing that brought him back to the reality of his situation today was something that had done it many times in the past; His bladder. It was really starting to fill up. For a bit, he tried to distract himself with more fantasies of freedom, but before long all of his pretend scenarios involved Uncle Brad breaking him out of here and rushing him very, VERY quickly to a toilet before doing anything else. He wriggled his hips, cringing at the way the ruffles in his dress felt against them. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that. If they HAD to force him to wear a dress, why did it have to be such a hideous, frilly one? Even most of the girls he knew back home didn’t wear ridiculous crap like this… He understood the clothing was just one more punishment they’d chosen to inflict on him, but he had to wonder if they honestly thought it was going to accomplish anything; If they seriously believed that by stuffing him into over-the-top girly outfits they’d succeed in turning him into a girl. Avery didn’t know if his ‘therapists’ seriously believed any of their methods would actually change a person. Being subjected to physical pain over and over again wasn’t going to cause some massive, cosmic change in who a person was, it was just going to hurt them. Avery suspected that ‘hurting people’ was really the only actual goal the ‘therapists’ had here. They probably knew they weren’t ‘curing’ anybody, they just liked to make them suffer. Laying on top of his stomach for long stretches of time always made Avery’s body start to ache and fill with pins and needles. It was worse when his bladder was throbbing; so much of his weight ended up pressing down against it, mashing the organ between his body and the concrete below him. Avery rolled over onto his side instead, trying to give his bladder more space. He was going to have to keep an ear out for the door beginning to open. If they found him not laying in the proper position, he’d be denied his toilet break and food. For whatever reason, turning over and finding himself staring at an identical, blank white wall made his heartbeat start to ramp up. He squeezed his eyes tightly trying to block out the sight. ‘Go somewhere better,’ Avery told himself. He used to be better at doing that. He used to have an easier time mentally transporting himself away from this place. It was so hard to do that now. His memories of what laid outside this center were fading rapidly, becoming blurry and hard to see, like they belonged to someone else entirely. Avery didn’t understand why that was happening. Surely, he was way too young to be having such major memory problems. Now, Avery focused really, really hard on remembering the last time he and his parents had visited Uncle Brad in New York. That had been a lot of fun, until something had happened that made Dad and Uncle Brad have a really huge fight. Avery wasn’t sure what had prompted that and, while he didn’t have a brother, he didn’t think that if he did he’d be able to call him the kinds of things Dad had called Uncle Brad that day… ‘Forget that part,’ Avery ordered himself. ‘Think about the good stuff.’ His bladder pulsed and he thrusted his his hands between his trembling thighs, gritting his teeth. ‘I really need to— Don’t think about that, either. Pretend that you don’t have to pee.’ He knew that was easier said than done, especially with how poorly his imagination was working right now. ‘Think about— Oh, when Uncle Brad showed you and your parents the big zoo…’ Avery focused really, really hard, trying to remember how the air had smelled that day, what the temperature had been like, how windy it had been. ‘You’re there, you’re there, you’re there…’ he chanted in his mind, and it started to actually work. He was with his uncle, who loved him and would keep him safe. He was in New York City, where there weren’t any isolation rooms or shock chairs. He was at the zoo, where there were cute animals instead of people asking him impossible questions and beating him for giving the wrong answers. He tried to repeat that day inside his head, it had been before the big fight between Dad and Brad, but Brad had been tense anyway when he’d stood beside Avery as he’d watched a polar bear playing with a hunk of ice. Avery had been started at first when Brad leaned down really close to him. “Brittney…?” Brad had said in a low tone. Avery still hadn’t told anyone his new name yet— Or why he was going to NEED a new name. He’d been meaning to do it soon, but he was so scared… “Hm?” Avery had asked. “Do you… Feel safe at home?” Brad whispered. “Everything okay?” Avery didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t feel safe at home, even though he knew he was supposed to. A few months ago, he’d looked up stuff about being trans online. His parents had found his search history, had demanded to know why he was looking at ‘that filth’, asked who was ‘grooming’ him, said a bunch of other stuff that Avery barely understood… They weren’t going to react very well whenever he finally told them, he was sure of that… “Um…” Avery winced at the sound of the polar bear dropping the ice into its pond, suddenly hit by the realization that he’d had two big cups of soda since the last time he’d peed. “I… I feel… Uh…” “If… If there’s anything you need to tell me, you can, alright?” Brad whispered. “I… I need to pee…” Avery answered, even though he knew that wasn’t what Brad was concerned with. Brad grinned and laughed slightly. “Okay, let’s find you somewhere to do that, then.” It was easy to find the toilets, but when Brad stood beside them to wait, Avery hesitated. His bladder throbbed and pulsed, protesting the delay when he was so close to relief. Public bathrooms had always made Avery feel weird. He’d check the signs over and over before opening one of the doors. Then, once he was in the women’s room, he’d have to sort of… Stare at himself in the mirror and repeat to himself that this was where he was supposed to be. Nevertheless, there was always this feeling that he was breaking a rule by being inside a girls’ bathroom. It had ALWAYS been that way, ever since he was little. It was just, now he understood WHY. “Go ahead,” Brad said to him. “I’ll wait.” Avery listened and entered the women’s room. He knew that holding it for much longer would get risky. And his hair was so long, because his parents insisted he keep it that way. His chest was… There. Everyone saw a girl when they looked at him. He kept his head down as he made his way to a stall, briefly looking at his reflection as he passed the mirrors. ‘You’re not breaking a rule,’ he told himself, just as he had every time he needed to pee in public. Inside the stall, he pulled down his pants and sat. His discomfort grew when he heard two other people come in, in the midst of a conversation. The first woman was saying something about the date she was on, and Avery felt like he was intruding on her privacy. He squirmed uncomfortably on the toilet seat when, as the ladies’ conversation continued, his bladder decided that it was time to get some major stage-fright. He heard some other stalls being locked, followed by two streams hissing into the toilets. Avery blushed hard, he’d never stop feeling like a perverted peeper in these situations… But, the trickling was enough of a taunt on his own bladder that it unclenched and allowed its contents to gush out of him. He pushed down as hard as he could, trying to finish as fast as possible. Avery could pee really, really fast when he wanted to. And when he was sitting inside a stall in a public women’s room, feeling like a major creep, he ALWAYS wanted to pee fast. In spite of all the negative emotions, it did feel good to get all this liquid out of his body. He had needed this… He’d needed it so much… He— In the isolation room, Avery’s eyes popped back open to the awful realization that he wasn’t on the toilet, peeing. He was on the floor, trying to HOLD it. At some point during his daydreaming, his hands had begun to squeeze between his legs. He supposed the only GOOD thing about the dress was how firmly he could dig his hands up against himself when he didn’t have pants in the way of them. ‘Oh my God…’ Avery thought miserably. ‘Fuck, I need a freaking piss…’ He tried to estimate how long he’d been in here, how much time he had left to wait until someone would bring him to the toilet and finally allow him to go. But, that was completely unpredictable. Time moved really, really strangely in Isolation, he had no idea how long it had been since his punishment began, no idea when that door may open and grant him some much needed relief. Odds were, however long he had left to wait was a lot longer than he could actually hold it. His eyes opened once more and, just as he had many times before, he found himself staring at one corner of the room, the one furthest from where he had to lay down. Like he did every time he got stuck here, he began to fantasize about squatting in that corner and peeing. He imagined the loud, satisfying hiss as he desecrated the ground below him. He imagined how wonderful the shrinking of his bladder would feel. He imagined letting out a nice moan. He imagined pissing all over this Hellish place, drowning it in urine since that was the only tool he had to punish it with. But, as ever, he then imagined what was sure to happen next. When that door opened, and the massive puddle he’d created was spotted right away. He would be called disgusting again. He would be hit. He would be denied food. Once his bladder re-filled, he’d be made to hold it even longer, and God help him if he used the corner again or peed in his clothes. The corner was not the answer, as much as he wished it could be. Avery wriggled and writhed, twisting back and forth and back and forth… His hands kneaded against his groin and he just… He just wanted to use the toilet! Once again, he was crying. He just wanted to pee! That was all he wanted! He wasn’t even allowed such a basic, simple thing! He’d been deemed unworthy of even that! He felt ridiculous, trying so hard not to pee all over clothes that he HATED. The only reason he didn’t just piss them deliberately out of malice and a desire to rid of himself of the awful pressure was because he didn’t want to be forced to SIT in his mess for a whole week again. Except, if that door didn’t open soon he wasn’t going to have a choice in whether or not these clothes were soiled. Yet another thing he didn’t get to choose. Avery couldn’t have any choices, couldn’t make any decisions for himself. Other people made them for him, and severely punished him if he tried to do anything else. There he went crying again. He wished he could stop. But, apparently he couldn’t hold in liquid from any part of his body. Tears streamed down his face, and a blast of pee seeped out into his clothes. He felt the warmth clinging to his thighs, and it made him cry more. He was revolting, he was a mistake. It was his own fault he was in here. He shouldn’t have come out to his parents. He knew they weren’t going to be happy, and while he couldn’t have predicted they’d do something THIS extreme to punish him, he should have known it was going to end badly. He should have just kept pretending for them, should have just dropped out of school early and gotten a job so he could move away from them and live his life the way he had to. If he’d done that, he wouldn’t be here. He would give anything to not be here anymore. Maybe everyone was right, and he just hadn’t put in enough ‘effort’ towards being a girl. He hadn’t tried hard enough. He could be a girl if it got him out of here. He could just… Find some way to stop feeling things. Find some way to switch all his emotions off, until he felt absolutely nothing. So long as everyone else was happy with him, it shouldn’t have mattered how he felt anyway. The ‘therapists’ had told him over and over that his insistence that he was ‘just trying to be himself’ came from a place of utter selfishness and lack of care for the feelings of others. Maybe they were right. ‘You’re a selfish, pointless waste of life,’ Avery thought to himself, repeating what he’d heard hundreds of times. ‘Your existence is revolting, and it destroyed your family. Are you proud of yourself for that? No? Well then why won’t you put the work in to fix it?’ Tears were collecting on the ground beneath his head. His eyes were burning, but he didn’t even have the energy to blink them. Every few seconds, a hissing noise filled the room as tiny squirts of pee spurted out of him. He didn’t think he cared about that, either. ‘When you get out of this room, you’re going to try to behave,’ Avery ordered himself. ‘You’ll figure out the right answers to those questions, and even if you can’t, you won’t cry when they hit you for it. When they take you to the shock chair, just sit down and take it, no more fighting. It’s what you need. Then, when they finally let you out, you’re going to wear nothing but dresses, paint your face with make-up until you’re beautiful. You’re never going to study fish again, because ‘marine biologist’ is no job for a sweet lady like you. No job is. Just find a husband and make all the babies you can. It’s what you’re made for. When you go home, you should thank your parents for teaching you this. Then, maybe one day you’ll be an actual human and not a…’ Avery was full-blown sobbing now, each heave shaking the walls of his aching bladder and causing him to void even more strongly into his clothes. He began to speak out loud, not even realizing he’d done so. “You’re not a person. You don’t deserve to call yourself a person. You’re an inhuman, disgusting pile of shit that’s lucky it hasn’t been beaten to death yet like it deserves. You’re… You’re a sick, pervert, getting off on the idea of tricking people into thinking you’re something you can never be. You’re just a brainwashed, confused little girl in need of fixing!” He had no idea he was shouting until spit flew from his mouth. He had no idea how much he’d peed until he sat up and felt his underpants squishing below him. In spite of how soaked he already was, he still felt close to exploding if he didn’t get to the toilet soon. He started to slap himself in the face, hard. Over and over, screaming vicious things at himself, repeating every horrid thing anyone had ever said about him, until he was laying back down on the ground, his face even more bruised than before and his thighs clammy and sticky from all his leaking. There was a big puddle on the ground below him, he’d utterly drenched the floor. His bladder was still so full, though. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore…” Avery whimpered into the silence. “I want to… I don’t want to be alive.” He shouldn’t have been alive, he didn’t think. That was what everyone always said. He didn’t deserve a life. He gave up then, he just didn’t care about anything anymore. Who cared if the ‘therapists’ made fun of him when they found him sobbing and soaked in piss? Who cared if he had to sit in that piss for the next several days? All of that was what he deserved. He deserved humiliation and suffering. He was unworthy of ever being happy. 
Avery let go, his bladder immediately splitting apart and releasing a major gush that added to the dampness coating Avery’s body and the lake forming on the ground. He peed hard and fast, but felt no relief. He was getting so wet that his legs squished with every tiny movement, and the entirety of the floor was now covered in pee. The water-level in the room started to rise and rise, until the pee was nearly up to Avery’s nose. Still, he wasn’t done. And still, he felt no relief. If anything, his urge was just getting worse by the second. ‘Make it stop!’ his brain screamed. ‘Make it all just stop!’ Avery woke up. He blinked several times. He was not in the isolation room. He was not wearing a dress. He was not violently wetting himself. He was in his bedroom at Uncle Brad’s place, right where he belonged. He was wearing his own pajamas, the ones he LIKED. He was… Holding what felt like at least fifty gallons of boiling hot piss. His arms jerked with the urge to grip himself, but he realized a moment later that he already WAS. His hands had become plugs at some point during his nightmare… ‘Nightmare… That’s…’ That was unusual, typically when he dreamed about conversion therapy, he was always fully AWARE that he was stuck in a nightmare, that he shouldn’t be there anymore, that the events shouldn’t have been repeating. But, this time he hadn’t had that awareness, he’d been utterly convinced he was trapped again, with no memory of his rescue and new life. Did that mean the dreams— and whatever it was in his head that was causing them— were getting even worse? His bladder pulsed and he felt heat bloom against his hands. Avery could try to figure out what was going on in his brain later, that was too hard to deal with right now. However, he KNEW exactly what was going on in his bladder, and that THAT issue had a simple remedy. He sat up further, and the waistband of his pajama pants started to CRUSH into his bladder. “Ohhh—!” he yelped, probably too loudly for the middle of the night. He hadn’t been able to help it! It had surprised him too much! He turned to the side of his bed, feeling his pee slosh harshly against his opening. He lowered a foot to the floor, then the other one, and— HSSSS! The second he started to actually stand, he was peeing. Hurriedly, he collapsed back onto his bed, tucked his feet underneath himself and rocked and rocked and rocked to make himself stop. He did manage to cease the flow, but now he had a bigger issue. He finally woke up from a nightmare in time to avoid wetting his sheets, but now he was going to pee them anyway because he was so full he couldn’t stand! That was so unfair! All of it was unfair! He shouldn’t be having nightmares that made him pee himself! He shouldn’t have so many bad, scary feelings all the time! He shouldn’t have been sent to that place! He’d done nothing to deserve it! Memories from his dream, ones unrelated to the desperate need to empty his bladder, flooded back to him. Most of what had happened in the dream had been real. He had freaked out when brought to the shock chair and been put in isolation as punishment. He had gotten very desperate to pee while in there. He had broken down and begun to scream at himself and smack his face. He had ultimately had an accident before he was given a toilet break. The only part that HADN’T actually happened was that, in real life, he hadn’t pissed so much that he’d created a literal flood. No, in real life, he’d only peed out enough to make a big puddle below himself, then one of the ‘therapists’ had found him like that, called him disgusting before slamming the door shut once more. Avery, whom had needed to go pee AGAIN by then, filled with disappointment when he realized that, by having an accident, he’d forfeited his right to a toilet break, and likely to food as well. He wet himself twice more before he finally ‘earned’ a break to use the toilet and, as ever, he was made to sit in those wet clothes for an entire week until he was released from isolation. The memory of that horrid week— Of those horrid MONTHS he’d been imprisoned for no decent reason— mixed with the pain in his bladder and the hopelessness he felt since he couldn’t even stand and walk to the toilet. Before he knew it, he was crying just as he’d done in his dream. Much like his dreams, his sobs shook the walls of his annoyed bladder and made him start to lose little droplets into his pants. ‘Just let it all go,’ he told himself. ‘Get it over with. You can’t make it.’ It just wasn’t that easy to urinate in one’s clothes on purpose, even if they were as desperate as Avery was. Years and years of conditioning had made his body dead-set on not letting itself pee if his clothes were in the way of the stream. Avery didn’t realize how loudly he was crying until his bedroom door cracked open. “Avery…?” Uncle Brad whispered, coming to his side. “Did you have another bad dream?” Avery whimpered as he nodded, “I—I didn’t mean to w—wake you up…” Brad rubbed a hand against Avery’s shoulder, “It’s okay… You…You were hurt a lot, Avery. You’ve earned the right to cry…” He sat down on Avery’s bed, unknowingly jostling his nephew’s overflowing bladder in the process. “Ooohhh…” Avery groaned, tensing his thighs and tightening his grip. “I—“ “What was the dream about? Would it feel better if you talked about it?” “It… It was about the isolation room,” Avery said, squeezing his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if talking about it would make him feel all that better THIS time. The longer Brad stayed in here, the more likely it was he’d bear witness to Avery drenching himself when his bladder finally burst. “This one time where I… I went crazy. I started hitting myself, and screaming at myself, because… I don’t know, I guess just hearing… Hearing people say it to me all the time, it all got stuck inside my head.” Brad nodded. He knew Avery had a history of self-harm. He’d caught Avery hurting himself a few times, it had been a horrifying thing to see. There was a reason Brad kept the razors in a lockbox now. When Brad quit smoking, it had been to get all of the lighters out of the apartment.“None of those things they said about you were true. You are not disgusting.” Avery winced, shifting in his place. Would Uncle Brad say the same thing when he peed everywhere in a few minutes? “You are not sick,” Uncle Brad added. “The people who did those things to you, they were the sick ones. You’re a kind young man. Even after everything you’ve been through, you’re nothing but nice to everyone. You—… Hey, don’t be so tense, it’s over. You’re safe now, I’m never going to let anybody hurt you ever again, I promise.” Brad stroked Avery’s back, feeling the heavy tension there. “Relax, or at least try to… It’s—“ “I c—can’t,” Avery stammered. “If I relax, I’ll… Um… Anoth—Another part of the dream— When I was in isolation, I wasn’t allowed toilet breaks very much and I always had to go bad. Sometimes I’d have accidents and they’d make me lay in it, and—” “It’s… Okay if you got the sheets wet,” Brad assured. “I’ll get you some new pants, it’s—“ “N—No, I didn’t wet the bed this time,” Avery interrupted, nearly doubling over on himself. That was a bad idea, however, as now his body weight was basically folding his bladder in half. Instead, he laid backwards and stared at the ceiling, desperate to give it more space, however there didn’t seem to be any space LEFT in Avery’s body, his pee had to come out now! “I… I just…. Can’t hold it…” “Oh,” Brad said. “You mean you have to go NOW. Well, we can talk more in a minu—“ Avery shook his head frantically, “I can’t stand up. I have to… I have to go SO bad that I start peeing if I try to get up. I can’t make it.” “Okay…” Uncle Brad told him. “It’s alright, I’ll… Hold on.” He stood and left the room. Avery initially thought he was just giving him some privacy so he could have his inevitable accident, but he came back a minute later, carrying an empty bottle that used to contain a sports drink. “Got this back out of the trash,” he said. “Will it wor—“ “Yes,” Avery said eagerly. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted anything as badly as he wanted that bottle. He’d fallen asleep with his prosthetic on, so he’d have no issue using it, either. Uncle Brad sat beside him again and handed him the bottle. Avery unscrewed the cap, and then… There were problems. The STP worked best if he was actually standing, otherwise the cup was tilted wrong and he’d have a spill. “I… I have to get up…” he mumbled, trying to figure out the right way to do this that would result in the smallest amount of pee coming out before he was ready. He came up with it pretty fast and was a little proud of himself for thinking so quickly when his bladder was searing. “T—Turn around,” he said. Brad did, and Avery unbuttoned his pajama pants and pulled his dick out, then put the opening of the bottle in place below it. He knew he was going to burst the second he was on his feet, but this way it would all be flowing where he wanted it to go. He shut his eyes as he got ready to stand, seeing his dick aimed into a bottle was a bit of a mindscrew— His eyes were telling him it was safe to pee, but inside he knew that everything wasn’t lined up right just yet. He got up as fast as he dared, one hand pushing the cup of his STP firmly against himself. He felt himself peeing before he was all the way stood, and felt a little sliding out the back of the cup and warming his pants. Finally, he had everything right where he needed it, and he didn’t have to TELL himself to start pissing, because he was already gushing like crazy. Urine hissed and spattered into the plastic bottle, and Avery sighed gently, “Haaahhhh… That’s beautiful…” he mumbled to himself. He felt the bottle growing warm and heavy as he pumped it full of his piss, and for a wonderful moment he was lost in his relief. But, the bottle started to get REALLY heavy, and then Brad was saying, “H—Hold on, too much!” It took Avery a minute to register all of that, but when he felt pee coating his hands as it overflowed from the bottle, he cringed, squeezed his thighs, and cut off his flow. His bladder pounded and swelled, utterly enraged at having its relief taken away early. Frantically, Avery set the bottle down on his nightstand, accidentally spilling some onto the surface, before he took off from his room. He’d let a lot of the excess pressure out— Enough that he could move without pissing— But, he didn’t feel like he had much time before his interrupted stream resumed with or without his consent. He dashed to the toilet— and thank God the lid and seat were both up already! He aimed for the bowl, instantly unleashing the remainder of his piss. “Ahhhhhhh….” Avery moaned so loudly now that Brad could hear him all the way back in his room. Brad’s stomach twisted. According to the label, the bottle Avery had just OVERFLOWED held twenty ounces. Avery had pissed out over twenty ounces of liquid and he STILL hadn’t been finished!? Brad struggled to remember his high school biology class. How much was a bladder SUPPOSED to hold? He thought it was probably slightly UNDER twenty ounces, right? Avery managing to fill that bottle beyond its capacity and have even more pee left to expel couldn’t have been healthy at all… ‘He should have woken up to pee before now,’ Brad thought. ‘Is he just a heavy sleeper, or was his nightmare that strong, or what?’ Brad had a feeling he knew why Avery’s bladder was larger than average, and why he held in so much so often. He’d thought for the longest time that Avery held it JUST because public toilets scared him, or JUST because he was embarrassed to say he had to go. But, something Avery had said tonight got to Brad, the thing about not being let out of isolation to pee and then having to sit in the mess when he didn’t make it. Avery’s bladder had been brutally and harshly TRAINED to hold way more fluid than a person ever SHOULD. His bladder had obviously gotten strong because of that, but Brad was concerned he was going to hurt himself if he didn’t start emptying it more often. His full bladder really SHOULD have woken him up sooner tonight, the fact that it didn’t wasn’t a good sign. Avery returned to his room about half a minute after he’d left. He collapsed limply on his bed, looking very loose compared to his earlier rigidity. “Ahhh…” he breathed out again. “Man, did I need THAT…” Brad held Avery’s hand, “Okay now?” “Yeah,” Avery said. “Thank you for the bottle, definitely would have peed all over the place without it.” “Avery, did you remember to go before bed?” “Yes,” Avery said. “I can’t sleep if I don’t pee first. Especially if I drink a lot at dinner.” Brad thought about that. They’d eaten a pretty salty dinner, Avery had had a ton of water. So, that would explain why he’d gotten so full… “I want you to try to remember to go a little more often, okay?” “I go when I have to,” Avery shrugged. “You hold it an awful lot, too,” Brad reminded. “Almost every time I see you come home from somewhere, you are squirming and rushing to the toilet.” “Well, at school, that’s because of Liam—“ “Your principal told me that you are free to use his restroom whenever you need to go,” Brad said. “Have you been doing that?” “No,” Avery admitted. “Usually, I just— I hold it at school in case—“ “You have somewhere safe to pee, Avery. You don’t have to hold it like that. It’s really not good for you.” “I… I don’t wanna bother the principal every time I need to pee.” Brad sighed. He understood— he REALLY did. He understood why Avery felt so much like a burden on everyone. His self-esteem had been crushed to bits in the conversion therapy center, he felt somehow ‘unworthy’ of everybody around him. Understanding it didn’t make it hurt any less to see Avery constantly put himself down and inconvenience himself because he thought it was what everyone wanted. If anything, knowing WHY Avery thought so lowly of himself only made it more painful to witness. “Avery, you aren’t bothering him. I promise. He’s called me several times, asking me to REMIND you because HE sees you fidgeting around in the halls all the time.” Avery blushed. He hadn’t realized how obvious his daily pee-dances must have been to everybody… “I want you to TRY to pee at least once every three hours, alright? I think the isolation room may have damaged your bladder a little bit, you should have woken up to go before it was practically coming out of you.” Avery blushed harder. But, he nodded. Truthfully, he couldn’t understand why his urge hadn’t gotten him up faster than that. Maybe the painfully long holds in the isolation room, not to mention how often he forced himself to hold it now, HAD all effected his body. He teared up again, he hadn’t ever considered that the full bladders he’d been made to endure at that awful place had damaged anything, but Uncle Brad did… His uncle really cared about him… “Um…” Avery fidgeted. “I…. Thank you for taking care of me, and being so nice… I love you.” “I love you, too,” Uncle Brad said. “I’ll always be here, I’m going to be the parent you deserve, I promise.”
  11. Written for the Omovember prompt "In Formal Clothes". I've been really excited about this chapter, I hope everyone likes it *** Adam and Alex stepped out of the car, Alex adjusting his stiff legs, and nervously patting his pocket to make sure it wasn’t empty. He was very anxious for what he had planned today, but there were still a few more hours left before he’d have to actually do anything— Which, really just meant he’d have to sit around and fret for all that time. He and Adam were on their way to Alice’s wedding, Alice being one of Adam’s cousins. Alex was nervous about meeting Alice and her groom, but he was mostly worried about what he intended to do once he and Adam went to a restaurant AFTER the wedding. Namely, he was going to ask Adam if they could maybe have a wedding of their own soon… Alex wasn’t sure why this was terrifying him so much. Adam adored him, and he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he’d actually say “No”. But, Alex hadn’t been able to afford a super fancy ring, it was just a little silver band. And, since Adam didn’t usually wear rings, Alex had sort of had to guess which size to pick by seeing which one fit HIS finger the best. He and Adam were just about the same size, so he HOPED that was right, but he couldn’t help worrying it would turn out to be too small, or not impressive enough… To try and make the ring a little more exciting, he’d gotten it engraved with the words ‘Forever Your Sweet Thing.” Which he hoped wasn’t too corny… “You’ll like Alice,” Adam promised, noticing the anxiety on Alex’s face. “She’s super nice.” He understood Alex got fearful around new people, but really, Adam thought HE was the one with more reason to be nervous today. He’d been talking to Alice about her wedding, and how she knew for sure her future husband Mark was the one and that they were ready to begin a new phase of life together, and it had made him think about a lot of things. Alex was definitely the one. Adam couldn’t imagine life without him, couldn’t sleep without him tucked protectively under his arm, watching him explore life and discover more things about himself and the world around him made Adam’s heart swell. They’d lived together for so long now, they spent almost every moment in one another’s company. It was probably time to make it official, right? So, Adam had gotten a ring, which was now firmly nestled in the pocket of his suit. The phrase ‘And now abide faith, hope, love, these three;’ was on the outside of the band, and the words ‘but the greatest of these is love’ were engraved on the inside. This was from a Bible verse that was often preached during wedding ceremonies, and it was something that had immediately made him think of Alex when he’d read it. He was sure Alex would love that ring, and he didn’t doubt Alex would say ‘yes’ to marrying him, but anxiety churned inside of him all the same. What if Alex didn’t think they were ready? Or, just got sad at the idea of a wedding where only some of his family would be willing to show up? At least Adam had time to prepare something to say to Alex. He wasn’t planning on proposing until after his cousin’s wedding, once he and Alex were at dinner. Adam’s nerves weren’t helped by the fact his cousin had chosen to have the wedding outdoors. If Alex said ‘yes’, Adam would make sure THEIR wedding was INSIDE somewhere. It was much too hot to be wearing a suit outside… He was just glad there was a water cooler nearby, and that there were plenty of cups left beside it. He poured himself a cup, and got one for Alex too. He was sure Alex was roasting just as badly as he was. Alex took the cup gratefully and eagerly sipped at its contents. He was so nervous about tonight that his mouth was going dry! He finished his cup, and then refilled it, Adam doing the same seconds later. Adam’s parents showed up a while later, along with Adam’s younger brother, Keith. Alex said hello to all of them, but his hands shook as he waved. Adam’s Mom and Dad had kind of always treated him like a member of their family, so they’d be happy if Alex really DID become a part of it, right? And Keith liked him well enough, too… He had no reason to worry about Adam’s family disapproving, none at all. He worried anyway. Mostly, he was worried about his OWN family. His Mom, Grandmother and most of his siblings would be happy for him, but he couldn’t help remembering the scary encounter he’d had with Papa at the store a few months ago. Papa would be furious about Alex marrying Adam. Papa had always told him growing up that HE would choose Alex’s spouse once he was old enough. There was a very specific ‘courtship’ process Alex was supposed to go through, involving Papa picking a suitable man from another family in their church, then monitoring their dates for a few months. Once the man decided he’d like to marry Alex, he would then have to ask Papa’s permission, and if Papa said it was okay, they would all begin planning the wedding together. He’d told Adam about the process once, a little while after they’d first met. Adam had immediately asked “But, wait… Where’s the part where YOU decide if you wanna be with that dude forever or not?” And Alex had just shrugged, “I don’t decide. I guess I just have to hope I like him.” “Alex. That’s, like, super messed up,” Adam had told him. “You know that, don’t you?” Alex hadn’t known that. Not at the time, anyway… “I mean, what if the guy just ACTS nice around your Dad, and then when he’s not watching, he… Like, hits you, or something? Are you not allowed to say that you don’t wanna be with a person like that?” Alex had never considered that before. He knew Papa hit Mom an awful lot, usually not in front of him, but he still HEARD it often enough to know what was happening. He’d seen Mom crying afterwards, she talked about how she felt trapped… “I— I think I’d still have to marry him if Papa said so… And, the church says we’re not allowed to divorce, so… If he hit me, I’d need to just…” Adam noticed Alex’s eyes welling up. “Hey, hey… No, don’t cry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to make you cry… I— I really don’t think your Dad should be allowed to pick… But, I hope whoever it is gives you lots of hugs, and makes sure you know he loves you.” “I hope so too…” And after that, Alex ended up not following the courtship process at all. He’d chosen Adam for himself. Papa would be furious if they got married. If the fact Alex was marrying Adam wasn’t enough to set him off, Alex wearing a suit to his wedding would probably make the man just explode. Of course, Alex didn’t NEED to tell Papa, but did new marriages get, like, published somewhere? Like, in the news, or anywhere else Papa would see? Papa could find out without Alex saying a word! Alex would have to ask Adam if there was a way to make sure Papa didn’t hear the news. But, he couldn’t ask THAT until after he knew Adam wanted to get married to start with! He and Adam sat down in a couple of the chairs, waiting for Alice’s wedding to start. By that point, they’d both filled their water cups a few more times, and were still thirsty enough to take occasional sips from them while they waited. Adam thought he should probably STOP drinking pretty soon. He was beginning to feel a slight urge to use the toilet, and he wasn’t sure where exactly he could go to take care of that. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wait until dinner… The best course of action would be to stop sending any more water to his bladder, and stop THINKING about needing to pee until after he’d found a spot to go. But, now that he was concentrating so much on not doing those things, his throat was feeling extremely parched, and his every thought quickly started to involve using the restroom. Despite his attempts to ignore his thirst, he finished his cup once more a few minutes later, all of it now flowing through his body. Adam glanced from side to side, they were out in a big field in the middle of a park. Parks typically had bathrooms around the pathways, but he couldn’t see any from where he was. He was sure there HAD to be a toilet somewhere close by, and was beginning to think he should just get up and ask somebody for directions, but then people were gathering around the makeshift stage and Adam knew the wedding was about to begin. He could hold it through the ceremony, at least. He didn’t need to go THAT much. As soon as it was over, he’d ask where to go to alleviate his little problem. Alex nervously rubbed his hands over his thighs, patting his pocket yet again to make sure the ring hadn’t rolled out of it. It was still there. Good. Alex… Needed to go to the bathroom. Not good. How much water had he drank? He’d filled that cup up four— No, five!— times, hadn’t he? Oh, what an awful idea! But, he always drank more when he was anxious, and it was also so warm out today, he just hadn’t been thinking! He’d been to weddings before, both at his old church and his new one. They varied in length, and he THOUGHT he could probably contain himself until the end so long as he rushed to the toilet right away afterwards. Wait, where were the toilets? He looked back and forth, not spotting anything that looked as though it would house a restroom. People were milling about on the stage, and Alex wondered if he had time to tell Adam he needed to go. Adam would find him a spot right away, he knew. “Adam, I—“ Before he could finish, the processional began, the groom walked down the aisle, followed by the best man, the groomsmen and the bridesmaids. Alex was going to have to wait. He was distracted for a little bit, Adam’s younger cousin Sam made a really cute ring bearer, and the groom’s sister was an adorable flower girl. He also liked seeing Alice being walked down the aisle with both of her parents, but it made his chest twist a little too; Only one of his parents would even consider attending HIS wedding… The officiant started to give a few opening remarks, and talked for so long that Alex was really feeling his need again. It was growing worse by the second, his bladder steadily expanding to accommodate all of the water he’d foolishly guzzled. He rubbed his hands over his thighs some more, growing agitated. He was fighting not to tap his feet, cross his legs, or do anything that could be seen as ‘disruptive.’ Adam had been certain that his suit fit him just right this morning, but now he was having second thoughts. It was beginning to feel too small, constricting, especially around his waist. It was seriously squeezing into him there, cutting sharply into a very sensitive area of his body. His kidneys were continuing to pump more liquid into his bladder, and he seriously wished they’d take a break from that for a few minutes! He could assure them, he had more than enough pee to deal with already! As casually as he could, he crossed his ankles together and allowed them to rub up against one another, squeezing his thighs. He tried to pay attention to everything on stage, all the things about Alice and her soon-to-be-husband, how they’d met, how happy they were. There were a few readings that followed, poems that the two found meaningful, and Adam tried to distract himself by thinking of things he’d want read at HIS wedding if Alex said ‘Yes’ tonight. But, Adam couldn’t concentrate well enough. His bladder was way too full to allow him to think of anything that didn’t involve urinating. He was sure that reading poems about needing to go to the toilet super, super badly would make for an extremely odd wedding. Alex had enjoyed the first few poems well enough, but now he couldn’t stop wondering how many more there were going to be. He leaned backwards a bit, his aching bladder sloshing with the tiny motion. He could no longer stop himself from fidgeting, and his legs were now ever so slightly pressed together, rubbing each other up and down to ease away a little bit of the pressure. It was barely even helping. He needed to move around MORE. For a while, Alex wasn’t able to pay attention to the poems at all, but then they were reading one about two streams joining together, full of way too much watery imagery, and he couldn’t make himself STOP listening! Every last word was like a mallet to his bladder, and he shook in his seat, unable to help himself from jiggling. When someone in the row ahead of him turned around, he forced himself to go mostly still again, grinding hard against his chair. His bladder was painful inside him now, a furious orb of tension that refused to ease. Next, Alice and Mark lit up a candle together. Adam hoped that, with the poems out of the way, the ceremony would be ending soon. It didn’t feel like his bladder could take much more of this. He kept gazing out into the field, imagining how good it would feel to water the grass for a couple minutes. He was not looking forward to having to stand back up again after being seated for so long. He knew it would make his need so much worse… He crossed one leg over the other, leaning forwards and chewing on his lip. Alice and Mark were exchanging their vows now, and Adam was gritting his teeth to avoid releasing a groan. His bladder just wouldn’t settle down, the throbs were constant, getting harsher and harsher. His urethra was stinging with the need to just let it all come flowing out… Following his thoughts, a trickle released itself into his boxers, and his hand tucked itself between his legs, before he began to rock against his arm. This suit was expensive! He couldn’t let himself get it even a little damp! He pressed his other hand against his groin and hoped that relief would be coming soon. Alex turned, saw Adam’s obvious distress, and actually felt somewhat better knowing his boyfriend was suffering from the same thing he was. It was awful, but he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone in this. Seeing as Adam was holding himself without anyone noticing, Alex did the same thing, the tiniest modicum of relief hitting him the second he’d gotten a grip on things. Having a nice, physical barricade between his bladder and the outside world was helping so much. The person on his other side was looking at him now though, and Alex shamefully let go, embarrassed by his blatant display of desperation. The man turned back away from him, and Alex even thought about asking him if there was a bathroom close by he could maybe run to, but he knew better. No way could he make a run for it without everyone turning to stare, he’d interrupt the entire ceremony! He just… Had to wait. As Alice and Mark continued with their vows, Alex tried to come up with something to say at his and Adam’s wedding (If it happened… Which, considering he was probably going to wet his pants, he wasn’t so confident if Adam would say ‘yes’ anymore or not.) Alex imagined himself at his wedding, standing beside Adam, telling him just how much he loved him. ’Adam, you changed my life. Without you, I wouldn’t even be me. And, now I wanna be me WITH you, forever. I love—‘ He pictured himself suddenly breaking off mid-sentence, doubling over, gripping his crotch for dear life and exclaiming ‘—Ah, I need a break! I can’t hold it!’ Alex cringed. That would be the worst wedding in history… Adam no longer cared if he was drawing attention to himself anymore. He just had to go, and he was gonna do whatever it took to KEEP himself from going in his pants. He crossed and uncrossed his legs, fidgeting wildly, rocking back and forth in his chair, squeezing himself tighter and tighter. None of it was very helpful, because a trickle of urine beaded out of him anyway, and he whimpered softly. His bladder begged for release, and he refused to give in. Alice and Mark each placed a ring on one another’s fingers and Alex exhaled a slow, shaky breath. They were nearing the end now. Reminded, he touched his pocket again, satisfied when he felt the lump of the ring there. ‘Oooh, hurry…’ he thought, hoping the sounds of his feet tapping weren’t too loud. ‘I need the bathroom now! I’m gonna have an accident if you don’t hurry!’ Just thinking about having an accident was making it a self-fulfilling prophecy, causing a few jets of pee to squirt into his boxers. He doubled over, squeezing himself again, it didn’t matter if that man looked at him again, he just needed to hold it! He didn’t want to pee in the fancy, expensive suit Adam had picked for him! He looked up in time to see Alice and Mark kiss, and his eyes welled up. It was almost over. So close. He’d be peeing soon! His bladder got a little over-excited, it cramped and tried its best to force him to start peeing right NOW. The bride and groom turned back to all their guests and walked back up the aisle together, followed by their wedding party and a lot of applauding. Adam tried to clap too, but his hands were both already occupied with something his body deemed a LOT more important. Alex managed to clap a little, but he couldn’t handle it for very long before he needed to shove his hands back against his crotch. As everything quieted down, Alex reached a hand to grip Adam’s arm. Adam was startled, and a spurt of pee dribbled from him. “Hm, wha—“ He turned. “O—Oh, you’re about ready to burst too, huh?” He whispered. “Adam, I need the bathroom now…” Alex mumbled. “I—I know,” Adam said. “So do I. L—Let’s get up, and say goodbye to everyone, and ask where th—the bathroom is, okay?” Adam gently got to his feet, just as he’d suspected, his bladder did NOT enjoy the sudden change in position. It surged downwards, and he folded himself in half as his opening trembled against the tide. Alex got up after him, jiggling up and down with frantic energy. He hoped the toilets were close. He really didn’t have much time left! After a few seconds, he was able to pry his hands away from his crotch and check his pocket again. The ring was still there. Adam shuffled out of their aisle, and Alex stayed right beside him. Adam took slow, careful steps, determined not to soak his fancy outfit. ‘Imagine trying to propose to Alex immediately after pissing yourself…’ he thought bitterly. He sucked in a sharp breath— He’d been squirming around so much, what if— He forced a hand away from his groin and felt for the ring in his pocket. He felt a little TOO relieved once he’d confirmed its presence, a slosh of pee splashing into his boxers. “Ahhh—“ he shoved the hand back against himself. Within minutes, they were beside Adam’s Mom and brother again. Keith giggled at the sight of them. “Adam looks like he’s gonna wet himself!” He announced way, WAY too loudly. “Keith…” Adam’s Mom sighed, then looked at Adam and Alex. “Oh, you BOTH need to go, huh?” Adam nodded. “We’ve been holding it through the whole thing,” he said. “Where’s the bathroom?” “Just a little bit down that trail,” his Mom pointed. “Your father went that way a few minutes ago.” “Th—Thank you,” Adam said. “C—Come on, Alex…” They hurried down the trail as fast as their bodies would allow. Alex lost quite a few errant dribbles as they walked. His bladder just couldn’t handle being bounced around so much! He was probably gonna cry tears of relief when he finally saw the toilets. Alex was half right. He DID feel like crying when he spotted the restroom, but NOT out of relief. He felt like crying because it looked like every man that had attended the wedding was lined up to use it, and there was no way he’d make it through all of them dry. “Ah, shit…” Adam muttered. He too didn’t think he could last through that whole line. But, this was a park! Trees and bushes everywhere! Plenty of other places to go! He gripped Alex by the arm and tugged him into the brush. He’d expected Alex to protest, but his boyfriend only whimpered a little at being jerked around too much. “H—Here?” Alex asked, sounding as though he was pleading for permission even though this had been Adam’s idea to start with. “Here,” Adam confirmed. They both gripped their zippers and were just about to yank them down when someone came up behind them. Some guy Adam didn’t know, probably a relative of Mark’s. “You know there’s a toilet right there, don’t you?” He asked. Adam released his zipper, hopping from foot to foot. “The line is too—“ “W—We’re sorry…” Alex shamefully stopped trying to get his clothes adjusted. “We won’t go here, promise! Please don’t tell anybody!” Adam’s heart sank. Great. Now Alex was convinced he’d been about to do something really, really bad. No way would he agree to water the bush once this guy walked away. And Adam wouldn’t do it either if Alex was gonna be still stuck holding it. Once the stranger had left them alone, Adam choked out “The restaurant is, like, a five minute drive. Can you make it until then?” Alex nodded. He HAD to! Adam hoped HE could do the same. They fumbled and dragged themselves back to the car. They were both leaking, dripping little drops, but were managing to hold back the typhoons raging inside of them. Adam flicked the car on and anxiously pulled out. He was IMMENSELY grateful that his car was electric, he didn’t think he’d be able to handle the slight rumbling jostle of a gas-powered engine right now. The ride was smooth, but needing to use his foot to work the pedal meant that he couldn’t cross his legs anymore. And, at least one hand needed to stay on the steering wheel, so he wasn’t getting a good grip on himself anymore, either. He envied Alex for not needing to drive, he could squirm, writhe and clutch himself for all he was worth. All Adam could do was tense his thighs up and squeeze with one hand as hard as he could. Alex curled over on himself when they went over a speed bump. “H—How much longer, Adam?” he mewled. “Almost there,” Adam said. “Super close. You can make it.” A few more turns, and they were parked in front of the restaurant. They both scrambled out and hurried to the door. Adam knew they must not have looked that great, two guys in rumpled suits, clearly fighting not to soak them in piss. If there wasn’t a toilet in this place they could use right away, he felt like he was gonna end up breaking something. He shoved the door open and they stepped inside. The hostess greeted them, staring at their distressed posture and the hands wedged between their trembling thighs. “Er… Do you have a reserva—“ “W—We do,” Adam said. “But, uh, bathroom first, please?” “Of course,” she told them. Alex blushed hard, even though HE hadn’t been the one to interrupt and plead for the toilet. He still LOOKED as desperate as Adam did. The hostess led them down a hallway and to a set of doors. “Th—Thank you,” Alex managed as Adam simply flung the door open. Alex scurried in after him, and he nearly just started peeing when he saw the urinals. His bladder didn’t have many seconds left to spare. He hurried to the closest one, unzipping the entire way there. He’d gotten his prosthetic out, and was already positively gushing a few steps from the urinal. A little bit hit the floor, and he felt absolutely HORRIBLE, but then all that remained was the satisfying hiss of relief as his stream flowed into the porcelain. Adam hobbled up beside him and let go of his own bladder. He couldn’t help it, he was instantly moaning as soon as the first few drops had splashed out. His poor bladder had been near bursting a second ago, and now it was finally ALL pouring out. “Ahhhhhh….” Alex panted and gasped, shivering from head to toe and going light-headed. His unrelenting torrent slowing for a few seconds when he needed to catch his breath, and then resuming at full force. It took over a minute before its power was reduced to the level of a standard “I really gotta go!” pee break, instead of the ‘I’m gonna wet my pants!’ sort of stream he’d been releasing at first, and then it took nearly ANOTHER full minute after that before he’d stopped entirely. He was trembling as he tucked his dick back into his pants and zipped them. “Ohhh, thank goodness…” he murmured. Adam finished a few seconds later, stumbling backwards and so out of it from the relief that he didn’t remember to zip his pants closed again. Dizzy, he turned to Alex. “I… I can’t believe I made that…” he said. “Me neither,” Alex admitted, heading to the sinks. He cranked one on, and didn’t think it managed to match the volume both of their streams combined had reached. “That was… I— I got some on the— I started going before I was at the urinal…” “I know…” Adam said, washing his own hands off. “I’m just glad all of that’s not IN you anymore, though. If you were feeling it like I was, it must have hurt…” “It did,” Alex agreed. “I’m actually kinda nervous to leave the bathroom in case it turns out there’s more in there…” “Heh, I think you got it all,” Adam said. “But, let’s make sure we go AGAIN before driving home.” Alex nodded. He felt so relaxed now after such a relieving pee that he suddenly WASN’T so nervous about proposing to Adam. He felt like he could do it right now! Without a second thought, Alex said; “Adam, there’s something I wanted to ask you today…” Adam leaned against the sinks, so content. It was amazing how much better a good, long piss could make him feel. He wasn’t sure why he’d been stressed out about the proposal all day. Of course Alex would say yes… “What is it?” “Um…” Alex touched his pocket, then started to reach in. “I… I really, really love you,” he began. “You’re my most favorite person in the world, and I’m so happy I get to spend every day with you, and… Uh… I want to— To keep doing that forever, and…” He pulled out the ring. “Um… Would you please… Be my husband now, maybe?” To Alex’s surprise, Adam didn’t say yes OR no, he just laughed. “Pfft— Hahahaha!” Alex shrank away. “I—If you don’t think we’re ready—“ “Ah— Sweet thing—It’s not that— You just— You proposed to me in a public restroom!” Adam snorted. Alex blinked. He… HAD just done that, hadn’t he? “I—“ “A—And—“ Adam kept laughing, and he pulled the ring from his own pocket. “I was gonna— Tonight, I was gonna—“ Alex stared at the ring, and then he started laughing, too. “You— We were BOTH—“ Unable to hold it back, he doubled over and laughed so much tears came to his eyes. Once he’d gotten ahold of himself, he took the ring from Adam’s hand. “S—So, I guess that’s a ‘yes’?” Adam wrapped his arms around Alex, “Yes!” he said, before giving him a kiss. “Nothing would make me happier!” They pulled apart, and Alex slipped the ring onto his finger, then gave Adam the other one. “I h—hope it fits you okay. And I h—had something written on it, let me know if it’s too…” Adam looked at the ring. “‘Forever your sweet thing…’” he read. “Awww… There’s stuff written on yours, too!” Alex took it off and looked at it more closely. “1 Corinthians 13?” “Yeah, it made me think of you,” Adam said. “You like it?” “Of course I like it,” Alex said, his eyes welling up. “This is… I love it. I love you.” Adam put his own ring on, and Alex was happy to see that it fit. “Let’s go have dinner now, sweet thing.” Alex nodded and they were about to walk out the door when he suddenly stopped. “Er… Adam, your fly is still down…” Adam glanced at his pants and blushed furiously. “Why didn’t you say that BEFORE I proposed to you?” “I just noticed!” Alex said. “Aw, it’s okay,” Adam said, giving him another kiss as he fixed his zipper. “I love you so much…”
  12. Written for the Omovember prompt "Wetting On Purpose". *** Dwight was in such a rush to get back to his barrack. He hadn’t been able to take a leak all day! Bryce had ordered him to sort things in one of the supply rooms again, and the restroom in that building had been out of order. Naturally, he’d tried to just pee outside instead, only for one of his other superiors to stop him and order him to finish his work before he left. “I’ll only be a minute!” he’d tried to argue. But, it hadn’t worked. Even Bryce talking to the other man and explaining that Dwight just needed a moment to relieve himself hadn’t gotten him a break. Once he was finally dismissed, he’d intended to piss as soon as he was a few steps away from the building, but then when he’d gripped his zipper, it had refused to budge no matter how hard he fought with it. So, that was why he was dying to get back to the barrack so that Kenneth could help him. His bladder was boiling away inside him, this was way, WAY longer than he was used to holding it for! His body was utterly confused why all this pee was still inside of it, it recognized he was outside, where he could go wherever he wanted. It didn’t understand concepts like ‘zippers’. He made it to the barrack, and was happy to see Kenneth was already there… And looking unusually relaxed, so he’d probably just finished pissing out the entirety of today’s urine a little bit ago. Kenneth glanced at Dwight for a second, noticing the hands clutching between his legs and the way his knees were knocking. “I don’t need it, you go ahead,” he said dismissively, waving in the direction of the restroom. “I—“ Dwight hopped urgently on his feet. “Kenneth, I need to pee sooo bad!” “I know,” Kenneth shrugged. “And I mean it, you can go now.” Dwight’s grip on his dick tightened when he felt a few errant dribbles seep into his boxers. “But, Kenneth—“ “Seriously, don’t worry about me. You aren’t gonna be forcing me to hold it, just—“ “My zipper is stuck!” Dwight exclaimed, his bouncing increasing in speed as he tried to ignore the warmth he felt within his cupped palms. Kenneth stared at his coiled up, squirming friend. “Oh…” he said. “You want some help?” “Yesss!” Dwight hissed. “Please hurry? I haven’t gone at ALL today!” Kenneth’s eyes widened. It was a wonder Dwight was still holding it when it had been THAT long. He hurried over to his friend’s side. “I’ll get it,” he promised, ushering him into the restroom. Dwight groaned and whimpered in protest. He didn’t want to have to look at the toilet the whole time! “This way, you’ll be able to go the SECOND I get you out,” Kenneth reasoned. “And, I promise, I’ll have you out really fast!” He brushed Dwight’s hands aside gently, and Dwight reluctantly complied with that even though it made his need to go so much stronger. When Kenneth’s knuckles accidentally grazed against the hard stone of Dwight’s middle, however, Dwight couldn’t help but react. He jerked backwards, accidentally sucking in his stomach and pulling his skin tightly around his aching bladder. “Ahhh—- Oh my Goddddd, I need to gooooo!” “S—Sorry,” Kenneth said quickly. “I didn’t mean to press there!” At least, with Dwight being so vocal, Kenneth was sure to be alerted if he made that mistake again… “I—It’s okay,” Dwight said, clasping his hands behind his back so that he wouldn’t grab himself again. “J—Just please hurry, okay? I need to go really, really bad!” “I know…” Kenneth mumbled, returning to Dwight’s zipper. At least, now that Dwight had started babbling about his urgency, he seemed to be fidgeting around a little less. That made Kenneth’s job easier, made him less likely to accidentally poke his friend’s bladder again. “Gotta goooo…” Dwight muttered. “Fuckfuckfuck, I need to peeeeeeeee…. I can’t wait, I can’t wait….” Giving a voice to his bladder was helping him calm down a bit, but before long the need to move around was rearing its ugly head again. He began to rock on his heels, very slight and subtle at first, but soon it was rapid, desperate and so frantic Kenneth couldn’t fiddle with the zipper any more. “H—Hold still…” Kenneth scolded him. “I’m sorry, Kenneth!” Dwight said, trying to obey. As soon as he ceased rocking, a spurt audibly hissed out and he ground his thighs together to keep anything else from leaking. “I just— I need to go soooo bad! I can’t stay still!” “Well, TRY to, okay?” Kenneth said. “You’ll be able to pee a lot sooner if you stopped wriggling like this.” “I’m TRYING!” Dwight protested. He clenched his thighs, tensed his legs, his abdominal muscles went rigid as he tried to fight the tide without moving or grabbing his cock. These attempts were less than successful, dribbles continually rolled down his legs, broken up by loud, hissy leaks as his boxers quickly grew sodden and warm. “Oooooh, hurry! Kenneth, please?” “I’m TRYING!” Kenneth echoed Dwight’s whine from earlier. “It’s really caught! I can’t get it to move at all!” That news devastated Dwight, and his bladder cramped even harder. This time, he didn’t just spurt or dribble, he just started PEEING a full-blown stream, and it was gonna get on Kenneth, and— “Ahh!” He gasped, doubling over, clutching himself and crossing his legs tightly. Kenneth had barely moved his hands out of Dwight’s way as he’d dove to grip his crotch. “I—I can’t help if your hands are in the—“ “I can’t— I can’t hold it!” Dwight cried. “Kenneth, please? I’ve been— I haven’t gone since this morning, I can’t wait anym—“ “I’m fixing your zipper as fast as I—“ “Can’t I just go?” Dwight begged. He looked up from his hunched position, his eyes wide and watering. The pain inside his body was almost making him cry… His bladder didn’t feel like a bladder anymore. It was something else entirely. Like a heavy, leaden orb. Yes, that was it. A heavy, leaden orb, this immense, powerfully crushing weight in his center that was constantly dragging him down, constantly pushing against his sphincters with so much force that they were starting to rip in half. “Please? Please just let me go?” Kenneth was extremely confused. Did Dwight need a piss so bad that it was making him delirious? He REMEMBERED why he was holding it, right? He still knew his zipper was stuck? “I promise, I’ll get your—“ “N—No,” Dwight shook his head. “I mean… I wanna just… Go. It keeps coming out, and it hurts, and I can’t hold it…” His bladder agreed with him, and another trickle sloshed down his leg. “I wanna go… Just… Not when your hands are over my—“ “Oh…” Kenneth said. He was still fairly perplexed. Dwight WANTED to give up and just have an accident? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Wouldn’t that make him feel disgusted, at least a little? A few times, Kenneth had actually tried to deliberately wet his pants to make the pain stop, and his shy bladder had never allowed it. If Dwight was in pain, and DIDN’T have that same anxiety to deal with, then maybe this WAS the better option? Kenneth couldn’t get that zipper apart with Dwight jumping all over the place, after all. And, he certainly didn’t like knowing that his friend was being hurt… “Are you sure?” he asked. “Y—Yeah,” Dwight grunted around the bloated ball of tension that seemed to be encompassing his entire lower half. “If I move my hands, I’m gonna pee. And if you’re messing with my zipper, I’ll just piss a—all over you. It’s best if I j—just get it out and then w—worry about everything else.” Kenneth would definitely prefer to AVOID Dwight peeing on him. “But, you’ll have to… Sit in it until we can get your zipper fixed…” Dwight hadn’t really been thinking about that part. He’d really only been thinking about the part where he got to GO. The aftermath was certainly going to be awful uncomfortable for him. As he thought about it, he felt his hands growing warm as more urine slid free from his bladder. “I d—don’t have a choice. It’s gonna come out. I wanna get it over with.” “Okay…” Kenneth said. “Just… Er, sit on the toilet first? Before you… Do it? We won’t have as much to clean up that way.” Dwight nodded. “Th—Thank you…” he said, shuffling over to the toilet and lowering himself onto the seat. He was still holding his crotch, not quite ready to give in to his body just yet. “Th—This is okay?” “Yeah,” Kenneth shrugged. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do…” It wasn’t really what Dwight WANTED to do, it was just that this was the best option he had at the moment. This way, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting Kenneth wet, and the floor would be spared. He let go of himself. He was shocked, but it took a second for him to start going. It just felt so WEIRD to be sitting on the toilet with his pants still up that his bladder must have gotten confused for a second. But, once it realized Dwight was giving it the signal to release, it well and truly split wide open and he was peeing a heavy, forceful gush into his pants. The liquid jetted into the material, causing it to grow heavy and warm. “Phew… I’m going now, Kenneth…” he said. Kenneth had spun around to face the opposite direction. “Er, yeah. Thanks for the update, I guess.” Dwight had released enough now that it was beginning to splash into the bowl, the noise mixing with the hiss of his clothes getting soaked. All things considered, this felt really, really good. Maybe not the warm, sticky feeling coating his crotch and making its way down across his ass, but his poor holding muscles had been straining for so long that finally letting them ease felt almost orgasmic. A small sigh fell from his lips. Kenneth kept staring at the wall, his back going very stiff. He’d seen and heard Dwight piss lots of times, and had seen him wet his pants on a few occasions as well. What was going on behind him felt completely different though, the guy was peeing himself on purpose, and it sounded like he was enjoying it… All the watery noises of his friend’s pee sloshing out was also making Kenneth sort of need a toilet break himself… “Mmmm…” Dwight’s eyes drifted shut, and he focused himself entirely on just the sensation of release, trying to blot out the gross feeling of his drenched pants clinging to him. He’d definitely held it too long today, he didn’t know if he’d EVER stop peeing… “Wow, I REALLY had to go…” he mumbled to himself. “Uh, yeah…” Kenneth said awkwardly. “I— I gathered that…” The last of Dwight’s pee finally exited his bladder and he at last felt empty. Little streams and drips kept falling from his pants and landing in the bowl, though. His clothes looked like they’d been through a hurricane… “All done, Kenneth.” Kenneth sucked in a breath and prepared to turn around. How the Hell was HE more embarrassed by all this than Dwight apparently was?! “F—Feeling better?” He asked quickly, forcing a smile as he faced his friend. “Yeah,” Dwight nodded. “I needed that bad.” Kenneth gave a small, half-nod. “Alright…” he said. “Glad you’re… more comfortable now.” He knelt down in front of Dwight. “Just—Stay sitting there until I get the zipper apart, in case any more drips come off of you…” “Okay.” Kenneth had an easier time fixing Dwight’s zipper issue now. He did cringe at the wet, clammy feeling over his friend’s crotch, but supposed that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t think he’d ever seen or heard Dwight pee that much all at once before, he’d been telling the truth that he couldn’t wait any longer. Kenneth would prefer having to touch Dwight’s pee-soaked clothes over GETTING pee-soaked himself. At last, he yanked the zipper apart and told Dwight he could stand up. Dwight got off the toilet and started to strip off his wet pants. Truth be told, he didn’t even feel that humiliated by all of this. Only Kenneth had been around to see it, and he’d been looking the other way the whole time. Dwight would just get his stuff washed and no one would ever know that this had happened. It wasn’t a big deal. Dwight hooked his fingers into the waistband of his utterly drenched boxers and started to lower them. “O—Oh—!” Kenneth exclaimed, covering his mouth. Dwight turned around as he let his boxers fall to his ankles. “Hm?” “N—Nothing…” Kenneth looked away. “W—Wasn’t expecting you to get all naked with me still here, that’s all.” “You’ve seen me naked before,” Dwight shrugged. “What’s it matter?” “It doesn’t— I was just surprised,” Kenneth stammered. “And— And I—“ He turned around to face the toilet. “I— Uh… I need to go too now, and—“ “Go ahead, then. Do you need help calming down?” If Kenneth looked at Dwight again, naked from the waist down, he was gonna need to calm down in an entirely different way! “I d—don’t think so… It’s just us…” He lifted the seat and unzipped. Sure enough, his stream trickled forth quickly and easily. “Ahhh…” Dwight started to unbutton his shirt as Kenneth relieved himself. He was about to get into the shower when he heard the toilet flush, prompting him to turn back around. “Oh, good job, Kenneth! You were able to go even though you weren’t bursting this time!” Kenneth blushed and stared at the floor. Being praised for going pee like a little kid, by his best friend who’d just pissed his pants a few minutes ago and was now standing there nude and making him feel all… FUNNY, was making his face flame. “G—Go ahead and… And wash off now…”
  13. Written for the Omovember prompt "Peeing Into A Container". *** When a clap of thunder tore through the morning sky, Jesse woke up. He was far less successful than he had been the day before. He felt the wet squelch of his soaked pajama bottoms and the cold puddle laying beneath him. The rain outside was really coming down, hissing violently. That sound had probably been a factor in his accident. He groaned, lifted up the sheets. He’d stayed on top of his protective cover, so none of his liquids had stained the bed.He still really needed to change, though. Julian was already awake, and Jesse ignored him as he got out of bed and stripped out of his damp clothes. He briefly registered that his accomplice was fidgeting, but ignored that. It wasn’t important. The idiot was probably uncomfortable because he’d forgotten how to blink or something equally as asinine. Julian watched as Jesse got changed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… Maybe just keep the wet ones on,” he suggested. “And for what purpose would I do that?” Jesse muttered under his breath. A flash of lightning bolted from outside, and the way it lit up the room made Jesse look even more irritated than usual. Julian jiggled on the spot. “Uhh… Because… Er… Last night, I couldn’t sleep, and so I started thinking of ways someone could escape from the basement. And I thought, maybe if they had a wire coat hanger, they could push it out from underneath the door and hit the button to unlock it from the other side. But, I didn’t know if that would work, so I decided to test it out, and see if I could hit the lock button for the bathroom with an un-bent wire hanger, and—“ “Julian, is the bathroom door locked from the inside right now?” “… What happens if I say ‘yes’?” Jesse just stared at him. “I— I do not even know where to begin with you right now. First of all, how would one of our victims manage to untie themselves to get to the door to start with?” “Uh…” “We tested the ropes not too long ago,” Jesse reminded. “If I couldn’t escape from them with as hard as I was fighting, no one else can. Second, where would they obtain a wire coat hanger from?” “Well…” “Third, even if our victim was able to get out of the ropes and find a coat hanger in this fantasy-land you’ve constructed, the alarm would go off the second the door opened and we would both be there to handle the breach.” “Oh, right—“ “Finally, what would possess you to attempt this little experiment upon the restroom door if you were not one hundred percent certain you’d be able to get it unlocked again afterwards?” “I— I thought I knew where the key was!” Julian stammered. “Just in case! I was sure it was in our nightstand, but it wasn’t there!” Jesse pulled on a new pair of dry pants and zipped them. “I suggest you relocate it, then. Otherwise, after you inevitably soil yourself, I will be forcing you to remain in your sodden clothing for the remainder of the day.” Julian grumbled as he threw the nightstand drawer open again. “Yeah, well the joke’ll be on you, ‘cause you’ll have to smell me…” “What was that?” “Nothing, Jesse…” Julian kept pawing through the nightstand. He thought about arguing further, pointing out that it would be easier to find things if Jesse cleaned up every once in a while. He didn’t want to push his luck anymore, though. He still didn’t know if Jesse was serious about making him wander around in pissed pants all day if he were to have an accident. Was he gonna have an accident? He’d eventually fallen asleep after his experiment with the door, and had woken up once needing to go, only to remember the toilet wasn’t available anymore. All of that was still in him, and the rest of his morning pee was trapped as well. He did seriously need to go, but felt confident he could wait longer. Still, he didn’t really WANT to wait… “I’m gonna go piss outside,” Julian announced. “You aren’t,” Jesse corrected. “Yes I am,” Julian said. “I have to go!” “Julian, are you somehow missing the typhoon outside?” Jesse asked. “You go out there, and you’ll get executed by a bolt of lightning.” He folded his arms. “So, by all means, go put yourself out of MY misery if you wish, but I still wouldn’t advise it.” Julian sighed. Jesse was right, it was dangerous to go outdoors right now. He knew Jesse was trying to tell him to stay safe, in his own… special way. Julian kept searching for the key. About an hour passed before Jesse’s bladder started to act up. And, like always, it did not come on gradually. It instead came all at once, pressure slamming into him and making him cross his legs. “Oooh…” he winced. Why did it work like this for him!? He’d felt fine five seconds ago! Where did all this pee even COME from? It felt like it had all just been teleported into him from some outside source! 

If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Julian had somehow transported all of his urine into him out of spite. Not only was that completely impossible, but Julian was also still squirming around as he lifted the couch cushions in search of the key. Jesse’s hips swayed as he joined Julian in the squirming. He tried to think dry thoughts, and to put the idea of emptying his bladder out of his mind. This didn’t work, the sharp point of need pressing against his opening demanded his full attention. Julian turned around to look at him. “Why don’t we just call the locksmith to fix the door?” “Julian…” Jesse sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “Did you somehow manage to lose even more of your very limited supply of brain cells while I wasn’t looking?” “Huh?” “We have a torture chamber in our basement,” Jesse stated. “So…?” “So, we can’t invite people in and allow them to wander around.” “But, he’ll just be looking at the door,” Julian shrugged. “It’ll be fine.” Jesse groaned, “We can’t know that for sure. What if he needs a tool and assumes we have one in the basement? Then, he’ll go down there, see everything, and I’ll have to tie him down and set to work, and I would prefer not to do something so strenuous when I’m needing to micturate.” Julian stared at Jesse’s wriggling for a moment. “O—Oh, right. Micturate means ‘piss’!” “Yes, Julian… That is exactly what it means. Good boy,” Jesse rolled his eyes, hopping fretfully. “And, I guess you gotta do it too now?” Jesse wanted to slam his head into a wall. Or maybe just Julian’s head. Perhaps that would fix his brain some. “Congratulations, you have a very impeccable grasp of the obvious.” Julian smiled, “Thank you!” Jesse sucked in his cheeks, hissed a long breath out through his clenched teeth. “Ssssoo,” he said finally. “It would seem we are not going to be able to find that key in time.” Julian shrugged. “Eh, I mean, I gotta go bad. But, I can probably hang on a couple more hours, I think.” Jesse’s bladder flipped over on itself at the thought of hours. When it was full, it was FULL, and it didn’t have ‘hours’ to wait. He crossed his legs around the other way and dug his nails into his thighs. “That is quite wonderful for you, Julian. However, I am experiencing quite the urgent situation now.” “Seriously? You didn’t even NEED to go when you got up!” Julian said. “And, I’ve seen how much you piss, it’s not like you’ve got a tiny bladder.” “My body behaves in strange ways at times,” Jesse said. “But, that is not of your concern. Fetch me my sharpest blade, I’ll handle this.” “Um… Jesse,” Julian said. “I know I’m a few sandwiches short of a full deck—“ “Mixing up your idioms there, idiot—“ “—But even I don’t think you can STAB the door open,” Julian finished. “I merely need to gouge a large enough hole to fit my hand through,” Jesse explained. “Then I can unlock the door from the other side.” “And then we have a big hole in the bathroom door forever,” Julian said. “We are the only two that use it,” Jesse pointed out. He knew this wasn’t one of his better ideas, it was going to make an awful mess, and he’d probably get splinters fitting his hand through the hole, but his bladder was urging him to latch onto anything that offered even the smallest hope for relief. “Really, Jesse,” Julian said. “If you think the key’s a lost cause, you’re really good at pick—“ “Wait, hold on,” Jesse said. “I am a master at lock-picking, all we need to find is a paper-clip. See, Julian? There’s a brilliant idea.” “Er… Yeah. Glad you thought of it…” Julian said. Hopefully, a paper-clip would be easier to find than the key had been. As Jesse waited for Julian to return with the clip, his bladder rapidly expanded. He could hardly believe he was this full already, considering the ocean he’d pumped into his pajamas during the night. He should have been throughly wrung dry after gushing all THAT out. Apparently, though, his bladder ALWAYS had more to give, whether he actually had a place to give it TO or not. 
Jesse impatiently bobbed in place. How long did it take to find a stupid paper-clip? If HE was searching for it, it would have been retrieved by now! He should go show Julian how it was done… Except, well… Jesse couldn’t exactly move around too well at the moment. His bladder was cradled painfully between his hip bones, and the little jiggly motions that he couldn’t help performing were bouncing it in a way that was just painful. Walking needed to be kept to an absolute minimum until he’d managed to get himself empty. He wanted to STOP all the anxious hopping since he’d realized it wasn’t making it any easier for him to hold on. It was, in fact, doing the opposite; Sloshing the contents of his desperately full bladder and making the liquid crash down hard against his sphincters. Except, every time Jesse managed to hold still for a second, he’d begin subconsciously jiggling again a second later, and then he was back to hopping up and down not long after that. A surge of heat bloomed down his length, scorched through his urethra and soaked painfully into the dry pants he’d JUST put on. He doubled over and gnashed his teeth, hands tucking themselves against his groin for some badly needed support. He felt another leak right at the very edge of spilling forth, his squeezing grew tighter and tighter, and he couldn’t let go, he really couldn’t… The sound of the rain outside wasn’t helping at all! He wished he could stab all the clouds and make them shut up! “Jesse!” Julian said happily. “Found a paper-clip!” Jesse’s eyes opened, he stared at the clip in Julian’s hand. “G—Great,” he breathed out, surprised by the honesty in his tone. Julian was staring at him, “Oh, wow… It got bad while I was gone, huh?” “S—Silence…” Jesse ordered. “I do not need your commentary. Give me the paper-clip.” Julian held it out, and Jesse reached for it, a spurt shooting in to his boxers the second he’d released one of his hands from his dick. His hand darted back into position, pressing away. “Ahhh—-!” “Can you not move your hands?” Julian asked. Jesse shook his head. “I— I’m afraid that I begin to… Experience a slight lack of control, if I—“ “You’re peeing yourself a little?” Jesse said nothing, but his blush was all the answer Julian needed. “That’s okay! I’ll pick the lock!” Julian stared at the paper-clip for a second, then tried to shove it into the key-hole. “J—Julian…” Jesse grunted. He felt like the piss was already in his dick, ready to slide out… A drip oozed forth into his boxers, and then another. “Y—You absolute buffoon—“ Julian grinned. “Be nice, or maybe I won’t help…” “Ah—!” Jesse squeezed his eyes shut and stomped his feet. He supposed he could be— He shuddered from a lot more than just desperation— ‘nice’, if it got him some relief. “Julian, you… Remarkable human being, I am afraid you must unbend the paper-clip first.” Julian followed Jesse’s instructions, until he was left with a long, thin wire. “Okay!” he said, shoving it into the key-hole and turning it. Nothing happened, of course. Jesse watched Julian’s feeble progress. “Th—That’s not—“ A long, long stream of pee slicked its way down Jesse’s right leg, and it took over three seconds of painful contorting and squeezing to make it stop. And then he was dripping more, and it just wouldn’t end. His eyes shot wide open as the icy realization that he couldn’t hold it struck him. “Ahh— I— I must— Wait here!” he exclaimed, rushing off. He went to the kitchen, looking every which way for something— ANYTHING— that would suffice for his horrid situation. A— A bottle— He needed— He tore the fridge door open. There were some full water bottles— He’d have to empty those before he could— He’d explode if he had to watch water pour down the sink, he needed— There was also a mostly empty milk jug, it was almost down to the dregs. It was a gallon jug, so even with the little bit of milk in there, there was PROBABLY enough room— He was already unzipping his pants. “Jesse, who the fuck pisses in a fridge?” Julian asked, standing in the kitchen doorway, wide-eyed as Jesse unzipped himself in front of the fridge. “I’m NOT,” Jesse snapped, reaching for the milk jug now and uncapping it. He held it at crotch-level and fished out his dribbling penis. He registered how small the opening on the jug was when his stream exploded out of him and quite a bit ran down the plastic sides and over his hand, he gasped and panted ecstatically, hardly caring about the little misfire as he corrected himself. “Oh, come on, at least empty it the rest of the way first…” Julian groaned. “I was gonna drink that…” “Silence…” Jesse breathed, relief flowing all over him as his urine jetted into the jug. It produced an extremely loud rattling noise as it splashed into the hard plastic receptacle. It was loud enough to overpower the storm outside. “Ahhhh…” Julian squirmed, seeing Jesse go was reminding him of how full he still was. He swayed from foot to foot. “Almost done?” he asked, hopeful that Jesse would pick the lock on the door once he was finished. Jesse shook his head, eyes closing gently and mouth falling slack. “N—Not even close…” he said. “Could you hurry?” Julian requested. “I still have to—“ “It is your fault I needed to restrain myself for so long this morning,” Jesse interrupted. “You get to wait now.” His stream slowed for a second; Pee drooled from his tip, flowing steadily into the ocean he’d already let out. Then, his release increased in its speed again, hissing and sloshing and making him shiver so much he almost dropped the jug on the floor. He held onto it tight and managed to prevent a catastrophic mess. At last, he was done, and the jug was looking pretty full. He hadn’t gotten it up to the top, but he’d managed to increase the water-level to a little beyond the half-way point. He set it onto the table. Julian cringed, both because Jesse had decided to place it against a surface they ATE off of, and because he would have preferred to go his entire life without knowing what pee mixed with milk looked like. “Ahhh…” Jesse sighed again, tucking his member back into his slightly damp pants and zipping them. Julian scowled, crossing his legs. “Better now?” “Yes, much relieved,” Jesse replied. He yawned. “I think I need more sleep n—“ “Jesse, no! Pick the lock, please? I need to go, too!” Jesse shrugged. “Use the jug. It is your own fault this is happening.” Julian looked at the jug. “There’s not enough room left in it now!” “Pour it out down the sink.” “That’s— We wash food in that sink, Jesse!” “Ah. Well then, I suppose you are going to have to restrain your bladder until I feel more up to handling the—“ Julian grabbed Jesse, “If you don’t pick the lock for me, I am going to pour that jug out over your head! And then, I’ll get rid of the paper-clip so you can’t shower after!” Jesse patted Julian on the top of the head. “You wouldn’t do that…” “Try me.” Jesse sighed, “Oh, alright,” he said. “I guess you have had enough punishment now.” He took the paper-clip from Julian, and then he had the door open in a matter of minutes. Julian rushed in and unloaded his bladder, moaning happily to himself, the door still wide open. “You know, you could have shut the door,” Jesse pointed out. “You just pissed in the middle of our kitchen,” Julian reminded. “Oh, God… This feels good!” “It was your decision to watch me do that.” “… You’re watching NOW!” Jesse faced the other way. “I’m not any longer,” he said. He turned back around, now staring at Julian again. “Also, if you ever mess with the lock again, you are going to receive a worse punishment than simply being made to restrain your urine.”
  14. Written for the Omovember prompt "Wetting A Skintight Outfit" *** Ethan stood before James wearing a tight, black latex suit that covered him from his neck to his crotch. His arms and legs were completely bare. He also wore a cat-ear headband and a very furious blush. “J—James… I…” He looked down, his hands were positioned in front of his crotch, trying to hide how prominent his bulge looked in this thing. “This costume is a little… Revealing…” “I know,” James said. “That’s why I picked it out for you!” He was dressed up as well, and his own costume was a little skimpy too. But, the nurse outfit he had on at least had a pair of shorts… Ethan was basically wearing a leotard that was at least two sizes too small for him. He kept worrying that ‘something’ might start poking out the side of one of the leg holes. He’d agreed that he’d wear a sexy outfit for James this Halloween, but this was a bit more than he’d had in mind. Or, a bit ‘less’, rather. “I— I just…” Even Ethan’s shoulders were turning red! Easy to see since the costume didn’t cover them up at all. “I’m not… I don’t typically dress this way.” “It’s Halloween,” James said. “You’re supposed to dress differently today.” “True, but…” Ethan worried on his lip. If their plan for the night was to just stay inside together, he wouldn’t mind the outfit. He was okay with James seeing him dressed so provocatively, and he definitely liked how much James was staring at him. But… “I… Um… Is it okay if I wear shorts on top?” he asked. “Just— Just while we’re at Miles’s party.” “Of course that’s okay,” James said. “Do what makes you feel comfortable. I picked that suit out before I knew we were gonna be invited anywhere tonight.” Ethan smiled gratefully. He went back to the bedroom and pulled on a pair of shorts. This was still significantly more skin than he usually showed out of the house. His typical garb of long pants and long sleeved shirts kept him mostly covered up from head to toe. He was going to feel a little strange just having his arms and lower legs exposed, but it was better than having the bulge of his dick on full, obvious display all night. He came back out, James was still smiling at him, though Ethan was sure HE’D preferred the outfit WITHOUT the addition of the shorts. Ethan tugged at the neckline of his costume. This thing was so tight, it didn’t give his body much room to breathe. He hoped it wouldn’t be too warm at Miles’s party, otherwise he’d have a lot of sweat trapped against his skin and would likely wake up with an itchy rash in the morning. “You got the right size, didn’t you?” he asked. “Yeah,” James said. “But, it’s supposed to fit tight. If you’re too uncomfortable, you can take it off and wear something else.” “I’m okay,” Ethan said. “I’ll get used to it.” He honestly wasn’t looking forward to taking it off. Getting it on had been a tremendous hassle. The suit zipped up the back, and he had barely been able to reach it himself. And the thing pulled so tautly that even with James’s help, they’d had some difficulty getting the zipper to close up all the way. Pulling it back down was probably going to be just as hard. “Okay,” James said, hugging him. “You look fantastic,” he informed, running a hand along Ethan’s chest, twirling his finger against one of his nipples, which was visibly protruding against the tight material covering it. Ethan’s eyes widened at the sensation, as clear and intense as if James were doing this while he was shirtless. He supposed that was one advantage of the suit… “Eheh, thank you…” He said. “Let’s go.” Ethan wasn’t used to wearing revealing clothes, and he also wasn’t used to going to parties. Large social gatherings weren’t easy for him. They were exceedingly stressful. He never knew what to say when he was around a whole bunch of people, always certain that saying just one wrong thing would leave him ostracized. James didn’t quite ‘get’ this issue of Ethan’s. James thought Ethan always said the RIGHT things, and he understood people so well! He should have been at home when surrounded by them, but he wasn’t… James and Ethan arrived early to help Miles set up for the party. Miles glanced at James’s bare chest in his unbuttoned nurse’s coat and barely reacted. But, when he saw Ethan in his skin-tight leotard and tiny shorts, he stared. Ethan cringed and shuffled his feet. “I— James wanted me to be a sexy cat…” he said. “And you are!” James smiled brightly. He nibbled his lip. He may be pushing Ethan too far by dressing him up this way… But, Ethan smiled back at him. “I’m happy that you like it,” he told him. In Miles’s kitchen, they helped him set out all of the snacks, and Miles was speaking softly with Ethan. James could barely hear what they were saying. “Try not to get too freaked out tonight,” he said. “I know there are gonna be a lot of strangers around you, but if you just say ‘hello’, they’ll like you. I promise.” Ethan was nodding, nervously gripping his wrist with the opposite hand. “I— I know…” he sighed. “It’s so easy introducing myself to my patients and making a connection there, but anywhere else, I just…” “I know.” James listened. Ethan had been all kinds of shy when they’d first met. He’d been MORE than shy, even. Sort of… Closed off. James remembered how Ethan used to always cross his arms in front of himself when he talked to James— And he remembered Ethan mentioning much, much later that folding one’s arms like that was a subconscious defensive gesture, an attempt at putting up a wall. “Sometimes I notice some of my patients doing that during the first few sessions,” he’d said. “I notice that, and spread myself out some so they’ll sense how open and welcoming I am.” And James had thought ‘But, do you notice when YOU do it…?’ Looking back, Ethan did that defensive arm thing all the time when he met someone new that wasn’t a patient. Ethan had finished setting out all the bowls, he stood beside James and leaned against him. “My arms are so cold in this thing…” he said. “I guess they would be, you normally have them totally covered up even when it’s Summer,” James said. He stroked one of Ethan’s arms. “You should leave them exposed more often, I love your biceps.” Ethan laughed, “James, I don’t have biceps. My arms are noodles.” “They’re sexy noodles.” “Haha, what does that even mean?” James smiled. Ethan seemed more at ease now. James decided to stay by his boyfriend’s side as much as possible tonight. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy standing next to someone that could talk for hours about nothing. *** The party had begun, friends Miles knew from his college days began to file in, and Ethan was getting anxious again. Some of them probably thought his costume was weird. Or, worse, that he didn’t have the body for it… James was paying a lot of attention to him, he saw Ethan starting to hold his arms as more people arrived, so he tapped on his bare shoulder. Ethan jumped. “Hm?” “You’re crossing your arms,” James said. “…So?” “You told me that means that you’re feeling all defensive and stuff,” James reminded. Ethan slowly unfolded them. “S—So I did…” he said. He really needed to stop teaching James things like that… He felt suddenly so much more vulnerable with his arms by his sides! He had the overwhelming urge to cross them again. He needed something to busy his hands with so that he couldn’t do that anymore. He walked to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of punch. There. He couldn’t fold his arms if he was holding onto a cup! He took a long sip, the sweet juice tasted delicious. He took another sip. And another. And before he knew it, his cup was empty and he needed to refill it. Half an hour, and three more cups later, Ethan was stood beside James as they talked to a woman Miles was friends with. Well, James was talking, Ethan was mostly just standing there. Every time he thought he had something to contribute to the conversation, a part of him would insist that whatever he’d been about to say was probably stupid. So, he stayed quiet. James nudged his side. “Ethan…” he urged. “We’re talking about your favorite movies! Don’t you wanna say something?” Ethan lowered his fruit punch cup from his mouth. “Er—- Yes,” he said. “S—Sorry, m—my mouth was full. The punch is really good. Have you had some” he asked the woman. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s good… So, you like sci-fi too?” Ethan nodded. This was a topic he could talk about! He let himself speak on and on about all his favorite films, and his favorite scenes from those films, and how he’d gotten to see the director’s cut of his all-time favorite movie recently, how exciting that had been, and… Slowly, he started to worry that the woman thought he was a weird dork, and he went quiet again. But, the woman picked up right where he left off. At first, he was delighted, then he wondered if she was just humoring him. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Ethan,’ he told himself. ‘You’re a therapist! You should be able to recognize when your own thoughts are irrational. These fears are unfounded, merely a product of your—‘ “Ethan was super silly at the theater when we saw the director’s cut, too,” James giggled. “Oh?” the woman asked. “He drank a big, big cup of soda and didn’t want to get up and miss anything,” James explained. The woman didn’t react for a second, then she cupped a hand over her mouth and laughed. “Ohhhh, yeah. I guess that would cause a problem…” Ethan thought he should probably be annoyed at James for bringing THAT part up, but the rest was just happy James had made her laugh. She was more likely to enjoy their company if she thought they were funny. Ethan’s cup was empty again, so he went to refill it. Another half hour later, Ethan was feeling the effects of all that punch. He whispered to James that he was going to pee and headed for the restroom. Once he was at the toilet, he pulled down his shorts, and— Hmmm… Right, the leotard didn’t have a zipper at the crotch, it just had the one that went up his back. He remembered his earlier fear that his… stuff might accidentally come out one of the sides, so he tried to pull his dick out through one of the leg holes. The material was too tight for that, and he very quickly gave up when a sharp pinch assailed his length. He was going to have to unzip the whole thing. He reached around his back, feeling for the pull tab. When his fingers grazed it, he gripped it tightly and yanked down. And, immediately, an icy shot of fear went through him. He’d expected to have a little bit of trouble getting it down, but just now he hadn’t managed to budge it at all. Suddenly, the costume felt a lot tighter than it had a minute ago, especially around his abdomen. Additionally, his bladder instantly felt a great deal fuller… It was an uncomfortable boulder sitting firmly between his hip bones, aching for release that he couldn’t give it. Being in front of a toilet just made it worse. There was no reason to panic just yet, though. He was getting ahead of himself. He’d needed James’s assistance zipping the thing UP, so of course he’d need help getting it back DOWN. He just had to go get James. 
Ethan pulled his shorts up and exited the restroom, finding himself back in the hallway. Now, where had James gone off to? He’d half-expected him to be right there at the bathroom door, anticipating the sound of Ethan relieving his bladder. He’d half-expected to see him standing there with a confused and disappointed look on his face since he hadn’t gotten to hear any hissing or satisfied sighs yet. But, instead the hall was vacant. Ethan hurried back into the living room, his bladder getting painfully knocked around as he searched for James in the crowd of people. He was realizing now that he’d waited too long to attempt his toilet break, or maybe that punch was just all of the sudden deciding to move through him a lot faster. He felt immensely more eager to go than he had just moments before. He’d begun to wriggle his hips uncontrollably, an action that made him grateful for the shorts he had on. Every few steps, he’d pause and clench his thighs together, hissing through his teeth. At last, he found James in the kitchen with Miles. Ethan’s bladder was so annoyed by all the pushing and shoving he’d had to do to get through the crowd that he felt tingles of need flaring down his length and pulsing sharply at his urethra. He rocked on his heels as he called to James. James scampered over to him and gave him a kiss. “There you are!” he said. “All better now?” Ethan blushed, wary of Miles being right there… But, that was probably a normal thing to say to someone after they’d used the toilet, right? “Er… No…” Ethan’s bare knees rubbed together. “I sorta need some help with the costume…” “Hm?” Miles asked, coming closer. “What’s the matter?” Ethan reddened further, starting to jiggle. “I… Er… I can’t get my costume off, and I have to use the bathroom.” “Ah,” Miles said. “Is it bad, because I was just about to—“ “Look how squirmy he is!” James interrupted. “Poor thing’s bursting!” “James…” Ethan mumbled in a warning tone. And now Miles was scrutinizing him. Ethan clenched his eyes closed with embarrassment as Miles’s gaze traveled all over his tense body, his crossed legs, his bouncing feet… “Yeah, you’d better hurry, Ethan,” he said finally. “I’ll wait ’til you’re done.” Ethan sighed, grateful that he was at least gonna get to pee first. He and James had to go back through the living room now, though. It was even worse the second time around, because now Ethan’s bladder knew that relief lay on the other side of the sea of people. Miles had invited way too many friends. Ethan’s abdomen was getting elbowed every few feet, sending sharp, shooting spasms all through his bladder. All at once, he was seized with the terror that he might get jabbed one too many times in JUST the wrong spot, and have an accident right in front of all these people! “Excuse us,” James kept saying as he helped Ethan walk. “Sorry, sorry…” Once they’d made it to the restroom door, Ethan’s breath was all coming in short, choppy gasps. He lurched a hand out and gripped the knob. But, of course, now it just HAD to be locked… Ethan stepped back and leaned hard against the wall. He continued to hop in place as he waited. “Oh, it really IS bad, huh?” James asked. “Y—Yeah,” Ethan agreed. Bad didn’t even cover it… The pressure was so strong it was making his knees knock. And the tight material of his costume was pulverizing the life out of his bladder.“Get the suit off as fast as you can, alright?” “I will,” James promised. They continued to wait. After a couple more minutes, Ethan was holding his cock. Or, at least, he was TRYING to. The thick leather encasing his dick made it very difficult to get a decent grip. Finally, the door opened. Ethan rushed in as soon as the previous occupant was out of the way, James followed him at a much calmer pace. Ethan bobbed up and down, still grappling for purchase over his crotch. “Hurry…” James did, he reached for the zipper at Ethan’s neckline and tugged it… And it didn’t move at all. He tugged again, a little harder. Nothing. He gripped it tightly and pulled as hard as he could. Ethan was still trapped. “J—James?” Ethan asked, panic clear in his voice. “It’s— I can’t get it down,” James cried. “It’s not moving. I think it’s caught, or jammed, or—“ “James, please don’t tease me right n—“ “I’m not teasing you,” James promised, gently rubbing Ethan’s back as he doubled over. “It’s really stuck!” 
The hands on Ethan’s crotch loosened for just a second as he spun around. It was just as he’d feared. That zipper wasn’t going to come apart. “H—Here’s what I’ll do,” James said, chest clenching at the horror on Ethan’s face. “I’m gonna go to the kitchen, and I’m gonna get the big steak-knife, okay? Then, I’ll cut around the crotch of the costume, and—“ “James, don’t you DARE stick a knife anywhere near there!” “… Yeah, that’s probably a bad idea,” James agreed. “I should cut it apart from the top, right?” Ethan started to step in place, his hands kneading themselves against his dick. “W—We had to take you to the minor emergency room once because you managed to impale yourself with a butter-knife. Any idea involving you using a knife is—-“ A wave of urine seemed to press itself right up against his exit, he folded even further in half, his hips shaking in tiny, helpless motions against his clutching hands. “Ahhh— Just— Just, no knives, James.” “Okay,” James said. He opened the medicine cabinet. “Maybe Miles has, like, vaseline or something we can use for lube.” He giggled. “Eheh, hope no one was walking by the door right when I said that!” Ethan forced a smile. He really wasn’t in much of a laughing mood right now. He was only in the mood to do one thing; pee. And until he did that, he couldn’t process anything else. James grinned. “Yay!” He turned around and showed Ethan the tub of vaseline he’d retrieved. “We’ll have you out of there real fast now!” Ethan nodded, “Please…” he grunted. “Hurry.” It was pure torture being in this room, the toilet RIGHT THERE, as he tried to withhold the contents of his brimming bladder. James came around to his back again, and he gently started to dab vaseline onto the teeth of the zipper. He was unsure how much he could really TOUCH Ethan right now without making him leak. The answer to that came a moment later when a hiss filled the room and was immediately followed by an anguished noise from Ethan’s throat. There was then a splash as his loss of control made it to the floor. “Shhh, it’s okay,” James said after the noise had ceased. “Just a few more minutes, you’re gonna make it…” James tried the zipper, and both of them breathed sighs of relief when it started to move… Only for it to get stuck again barely an inch down. “Nnnnh, come oooon!” Ethan moaned. James went back to rubbing on more vaseline. He tugged the zipper again, and it still didn’t move. He tugged harder and harder, accidentally pulling the material of Ethan’s costume even more firmly into his bladder. “J—James!” Ethan yelped, as another spurt exited him. “James! You’re— You’re squeezing me!” 
James stopped. “S—Sorry…” He let go, tried the vaseline again. It didn’t work, and as soon as James yanked on the zipper, Ethan was whimpering and dribbling. His poor bladder was coming apart, it couldn’t handle so much squishing. “Er…” James kept thinking. “Soap,” he decided. “Soap works too!” 
 Of course, Miles had soap in the bathroom, and it didn’t take much effort to find it. The issue now was that James would have to get the bar wet for it to be useful— He was going to have to turn on the tap. “Ethan, I need to run it under the sink for a second…” he warned. Ethan was already squeezing his dick harder in preparation. But, that wasn’t enough. The water began to hiss into the basin, splashing against the material in a way that sounded way too much like the noise pee made when it struck a urinal. Ethan doubled over again, but this would prove to be his undoing as he only succeeded in crushing his bladder. “Ahhh—!” Ethan gasped, the walls of his bladder collapsing inwards like a poorly constructed building, all at once the pressure became an acute, bright point of pain at his opening, and then suddenly vanished entirely as his piss started to gush with a force he’d never even felt before in his life. “Hhhaaaa—-“ he moaned, momentarily so overcome by how much BETTER he felt that he didn’t realize he was having an accident. He couldn’t process the warmth seeping around his crotch, the ear-splitting hiss of the leather becoming drenched, the sheer lack of control he had over any of it. All he could process was that his bladder no longer felt like it was going to explode. Then, he understood that the reason for that was that it had ALREADY exploded. His eyes shot open and, desperate not to wet Miles’s floor too badly, he collapsed onto the toilet seat with another loud moan. He did not allow his bladder to continue draining, he didn’t make the conscious decision to give up and just let it happen. It was no longer up to him, nothing he could have tried would have plugged his floodgates shut, he had utterly and completely exhausted the capacity of his holding muscles. His body was calling all of the shots now. James’s eyes were blown wide, and he was sure he hadn’t even blinked since the second Ethan had finally popped. He was also sure this was the fastest he’d ever managed to go from flaccid to completely hard. The way the crotch of Ethan’s costume glistened and gleamed as it became more and more soaked, the look of utter relief and exhaustion on his face, the way he kept twitching as he sat there on the bowl, body jolting as more and more piss slammed out of him… And the SOUND, just… So much hissing. The sloshing as the urine landed into the bowl, the high pitched hssssss as it jetted into the leather material, and on top of all that, Ethan’s MOANS… James’s own costume felt tight now… His dick was just so hard… God, he had to touch himself, he NEEDED to touch himself, but he made himself hold back, his pulse running wild as Ethan continued emptying. Ethan’s eyes cracked open just slightly. His face was pink, clammy with sweat, his hair all out of place. “James… You… If…” he gasped out. He was feeling a little faint, out of breath… And he knew was probably driving James CRAZY right now. “If you… If you like this… Go ahead an’… An’ touch yourself…” James didn’t argue with that. He was surprised Ethan would ASK for this at Miles’s house, with a party taking place just outside the door. Maybe Ethan had just realized James needed THIS as bad as Ethan had needed a piss… James unzipped himself and pulled out his erect cock. It was a relief not to have it confined and cramped inside his pants anymore. Right away, he was pumping himself for all he was worth. “Mmmmfff…” he moaned, biting his lip to keep from making as much noise as he WANTED to. Ethan was making enough of those sounds for both of them, if James joined in, everyone outside would have a… Maybe not SO different idea of what they were up to in here. Ethan leaned back hard against the toilet tank. “Ahhh… I dun’…” he felt so bleary, he barely remembered where he was. “I don’t even care that I’m wetting myself, it just… Feels so good…” James didn’t know if Ethan was delirious from the relief and just muttering to himself, or if he was deliberate trying to get James even hornier than he already was. Either way, James ALREADY felt close to cumming, unsure if he’d be able to hold it back even one more minute. “Ahnnn—“ he mewled as softly as he could. “Ethan— I’m gonna—“ Ethan parted his legs, and now James could SEE the stream still gushing from between them. “Do it h—here…” Ethan said. “It will make less of a mess…” James positioned himself between Ethan’s legs, and with as forcefully as Ethan was spraying, his pee started to land on James’s dick, the heat and vibration of it, the mere fact that it was Ethan’s piss that was striking him, made James cum so hard his eyes rolled back in his head and his entire body convulsed. “Faaaaahhhh!” James exclaimed, unable to keep himself quiet anymore. Semen spurted from his tip and into the bowl, his cock twitching and jolting as he finished. Ethan himself finished a few seconds later. James stumbled backwards against the wall, appearing far more disheveled than he had mere minutes before. Ethan kept sitting there on the toilet, struggling to catch his breath and readjust to how it felt not to be so full of urine, and to reflect on… Everything that had just happened. What in the world had come over him? They weren’t at home! This was the exact wrong place to have done… ANY of that! He’d just been… God, the relief of letting it flow… It had driven him to temporary insanity, that was it. He drew his legs back together, feeling the squishy dampness of his accident. Right. He was drenched now. And he still couldn’t get out of his stupid costume… At least the outfit was black, and once he put the shorts back on, no one would notice the way his crotch shimmered. He definitely SMELLED of urine right now, though. Once he felt like he could trust his legs enough to stand up, and was confident he probably wasn’t going to drip too much more, he rose from the toilet and leaned against James, sagging into his body with exhaustion. There was a lot he wanted to say, but all that came out was another relieved sigh. “Ahhhhh…” James rubbed his arm. “That was… So much…” he said, kissing him. “It’s… It’s okay that you didn’t make it…” Ethan looked away, “Yeah, I could tell that you didn’t mind…” he exhaled again. “I feel so much better, James…” “I hope so!” James said. Ethan wriggled, his crotch was starting to chafe a bit now. He grabbed the shorts from the floor and tugged them back on. “Er… What next? I’m… Not so sure I want to go out and talk to people right now.” “It’s okay, it’s late,” James yawned. “And I’m real tired all of the sudden… Maybe ‘cause you just made me cum so hard that I saw stars. I dunno.” Ethan blushed harder. “M—Might have something to do with it…” They left the restroom together, and Miles was standing there. James stared at him for a second, at the little bit of foot tapping he was doing. This was the first time he’d ever seen Miles show any sign that his bladder was getting uncomfortable… Miles spoke before James could say anything potentially embarrassing. “Ethan, you sly boy…” he teased. “Seriously? In MY house? I didn’t think you had that in you…” Ethan shrank back. “Wh—What—“ “Nah, I’m not mad,” Miles said. “Good for you! I’m glad you’re having a good time.” Ethan wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing, having Miles think he and James had just finished up having sex in there, or TELLING Miles that he’d actually wet himself and the moaning had been due to how utterly relieved that made him feel. Probably the second thing— Besides, if he confessed, that wouldn’t explain why James had ALSO been moaning so much. “You should have just said that’s what you were gonna do,” Miles said. “I wouldn’t have let you use the bathroom first if I knew you weren’t actually having an emergency.” “I’m… Sorry… We… Madeyouwait,” Ethan fumbled over his words. Miles shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said, shuffling past them into the restroom. James yawned again. “Let’s go home now…” he said. “Yeah…” Ethan couldn’t stop blushing. “I think that’s for the best.”
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