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My pronouns are..


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  1. Describe any time you have witnessed in person, a female friend or acquaintance (whom you were not in a relationship with at the time) either becoming desperate or having an accident of any magnitude. What happened? Did she let you watch or what did you end up seeing? Were you able to touch or feel anything (pussy, wet panties, etc)? Did you give her any indication that you liked it?
  2. I always work on new things that I don't want to post before they're finished. I have like five different huge projects for this forum that I regularly write a little bit on and never get close to finishing. For once, I've written something in one go to post immediately because I got tired of not posting anything I create. This might get some tiny follow-ups but nothing more if at all. Feels good to finally post some of my fiction again even if it's just an in-between idea that I got and is less fleshed out than anything else I'm writing. Pissed to meet you Gina’s co-worker had just left her alone at her weekend job at the gas station connected to both a residential area and a busy road, and she regretted not asking her to take over the register for a minute while she used the bathroom. She had counted on that opportunity, but Jess was so busy getting everything outside ready before she left and when she was done, exactly according to schedule at six, she just waved goodbye and left immediately to Gina’s dismay. Kind of embarrassed about her small bladder getting her so desperate again a few hours since the last time she went, and thinking about getting through the evening alone when her only opportunity would be if the store was empty, she wanted to leave it as late as possible before she went again. Now, at five past six with nobody there to help her and a growing line of customers in front of her, she was in a state of panic. She didn’t leave it this late very often. It had been years since her last full accident when she wet herself earlier this month. Being out after the shops closed down and the sun already under, nobody had noticed it running down her legs and over her sandals that time, and after her bladder had emptied she quickly left the puddle on the pavement behind, her skirt obscuring all visible proof, and all audible proof from the sound her sandals made with every step had mostly dissipated before anyone was near enough to her to hear it. The only person who might’ve found out was that other girl on the bus sitting one row over, if she for some reason checked out Gina’s seat after she got off at her stop and saw the wet spot her panties had made on the cushion. She had gotten away with that and treated it as a freak incident. Last week, after a long day of working the shift Jess had worked today, the combination of drinking heavily and being extremely tired had made her forget to pee before bed and when she woke up she didn’t need to anymore. Another freak incident, a risk she had taken, and she thought it was perfectly reasonable to wet the bed in that situation. She had heard stories from friends in the past, and she knew she wasn’t the only one that happened to occasionally after a night of drinking. It was no reason to be concerned at the time. Still, as she sat there, helping customer after customer, acutely aware of how she wasn’t alone in her room, and acutely aware of the light blue colour of her jeans instead of a skirt that might’ve helped her hide an incident if it went south, those two accidents were at the front of her mind. Needing both her hands to help customers, she had no choice but to ignore her intense desire to hold herself between her crossed and bouncing legs underneath the counter. The worst part was how nearly half of her customers wanted to buy cigarettes, requiring her to get up from her chair and stand with her legs in full sight as she got some from behind the doors on the wall behind her, having to pretend to be fine. If this line didn’t start shrinking soon, she would have no choice but embarrassingly excuse herself to the customers as she runs to the bathroom, when the only alternative would be to wet her pants at work. She shuddered at the thought. She’d have to quit her job in shame just a few weeks after starting it. Luckily for her, a few minutes later the line had shrunk to only three people. Unfortunately, some pee suddenly spurted into her panties while helping the second of them. It took all her strength to hold on for that last customer, and she felt another spurt escape her while getting up from her seat as the automatic doors closed behind him. Doubled over, one hand opened the door of the cabin she was in while the other shot to her crotch, feeling how a small wet patch had already formed on the outside of it. With the door open, she was free to hold herself with both hands while running towards the door of the storage area, where the employee toilet was. Removing one hand to open it, she nearly started peeing full force then and there, only just containing it to a small dribble as she fiddled with the key. The small dribble continued, wetting her panties and pants further. She felt the first drips forming on her fingers, and she felt close to tears, at this point almost certain she was going to fully wet her pants. Luckily, the bathroom was right behind this door. The tiny dribble continued. She felt the first bit of wetness on her thighs as she ran inside, not bothering to close the door due to being alone. If she hadn’t been able to undo her button with one hand first try, it would’ve been all over right then and there, because as soon as she removed her second hand the floodgates opened, and she only just managed to slide her pants and panties down before the first moment of the dribble transforming into a wave made it through her urethra. She sat down right after it had done so, finally able to relax. While peeing into the toilet, she assessed the damage. The crotch of her white panties was soaked. The half second of peeing full-force before getting her ass on the toilet seat had caused her to wet the entire backside of them too, and in the small gap between them and the toilet seat she had made a tiny puddle on the floor. But her panties had just about prevented her from peeing over the full backside of her jeans. There was a big wet patch on the crotch though, but she was happy to notice that most of what she had felt on her thighs was only visible on the inside of her jeans and not the outside. While her bladder was almost done emptying, she wrung out the wet gusset between her legs, adding some drops to the puddle on the floor before mopping that up with some toilet paper. She dried her privates as much as she could, but hearing the bell of a new customer entering the shop made her have to leave them damp. Not that it mattered; she had to pull up her wet panties against them anyway. She just had to ignore how she felt seeing her privates almost just as clearly right through them after pulling them up and how she felt her butt get wet from them, and quickly pulled up her pants. Looking down, despite them feeling significantly wetter than that the only wet spot visible from the front would easily be hidden by a tactfully placed hand. Turning around, standing on her toes she could just see how her backside looked while looking over her back into the mirror. Her heart rate increased; where it had spread out a little from her crotch to the backside of her legs, her pants were visibly wet in a way that could only be explained by pee. If she looked closely, she could also see them getting slightly damp further up her butt where it touched her wet panties. That part would only be noticeable if you looked for it, but with obviously wet jeans below that she had to hide her backside anyway. Walking into the shop, Gina carefully walked in a way that the young woman of about her age standing at the counter could only see the right side of her jeans while she walked back to her cabin. Inside, she quickly sat down on the chair. Only then did she notice that the woman probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway. Clearly, she was doing a pee dance, with her hands between her crotch similar to how Gina had walked through the shop only a few minutes before, but seemingly even more desperate. She didn’t need to tell what she needed, and Gina quickly put the key to the customer toilet on the counter. The woman muttered a quiet “thanks” before walking off, back outside to the side of the building where she apparently already knew the customer toilet was at. By now several cars were pumping gas again, and Gina noticed all the heads following the poor woman who was clearly close to having an accident as well. “Did it look that obvious with me too?” Gina wondered. She had calmed down a little bit. She had just prevented herself from crying earlier keeping her make-up intact, and now that she knew she had avoided a full accident and could probably hide the leaks. She had experience hiding the fact that she leaked a bit. Despite not having had many accidents since she had left elementary school, leaking a little bit before reaching the toilet was quite common. Most of the time the leaks were smaller than this, but she still felt confident. While catching her breath and helping a few more customers, she started wondering if the woman she just gave the key to would also be that lucky. She sure looked like she wouldn’t be able to make it. Gina started imagining those jeans, already slightly darker than hers, having an even darker and quickly growing patch form on them while she stood in front of the toilet, reaching her shoes within seconds and forming a huge puddle around her, similar to an accident of her own when she was nineteen, her last full accident until recently… “What the hell,” she thought, quickly pushing the thought away. She remembered how embarrassed she was and how her housemates had teased her about it for weeks, she couldn’t imagine how mortified she’d be if that happened away from home, having to get back in that state. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone! Still, she felt slightly disappointed when she saw the woman walking back into the shop without a hint of wetness on her crotch, making her more embarrassed about the wetness on her own. “Thanks! That was such a relief. Good thing you didn’t return a minute later, I was *sooo* sure I was gonna pee my pants right there until I saw you,” the woman said as she handed over the key. “I really thought I’d make it home but there’s a traffic jam up the road and it became an emergency, still kind of bad to have that almost happen when you’re twenty-three,” the woman said, revealing that she was exactly Gina’s age. “I just got my panties down in time! I think I was eight the last time I wet myself and that was in bed! Fuck, I talk too much, sorry for boring you,” she said. “No problem,” Gina answered, feeling even more embarrassed about her own wet panties. The next few hours, Gina had no choice but to remain seated when customers were there, and wouldn’t risk getting out of the cabin for her normal duties of filling up some shelves. Instead of getting up to get the smokes from behind her, she pushed the wheeled chair around and carefully made sure something was always between the line of sight of a customer and her crotch. Any time without customers she’d spend rubbing her crotch and butt, trying to dry the wetness to the point of near invisibility as quickly as she could and taking pictures of her backside with her phone to check on her progress. She was getting parched with her water bottle empty, and with the wetness still visible, she only dared to quickly pop into the shop to get herself a bottle of soda and back into the cabin and drink that. There was no tap in the cabin, only in the storage room. It was nearly eight when that bottle was also empty, and the dampness on her pants wasn’t that visible anymore. Her shift lasted until eleven, but she still had to sweep and mop the floor among a few other things before nine, so after quickly quenching her thirst and filling up her water bottle again she started doing those as fast as she could in the gaps between customers. It was only her third time on this shift and the second time alone, and she hadn’t found the most efficient way of doing stuff yet, and due to not being able to leave her seat earlier she was constrained by time. From nine onwards, she wasn’t allowed to leave her cabin for her own safety. Just in time, she emptied the bucket and made her way through the shop over the still wet floor. The sliding doors were set to open to make it dry quicker, and she’d just have to accept that the sign warning customers about the wet floor could not be removed until she closed, long after it had dried. She was able to do that way earlier two weeks ago like she was supposed to, but today she had no choice. It had been way busier than the last two times between eight and nine, and she was constantly running back to help customers. The time on the register read 20:59 as she closed the door, and only seconds later she heard the beep confirming the automatic alarm. If she left the cabin between now and eleven, the security center would get a notification and call the station for an explanation. If she left the cabin without an adequate reason, the local manager would be notified. From now on, all she had to do was make sure the shelves with tobacco products were filled for the next morning next to helping customers. Finally able to relax again, taking a swig from the water bottle she recently filled once more, a distinct feeling of pressure made her realize the mistake she had made. While running around to at least have the most essential things done on time, she hadn’t noticed how full her bladder had become. And of course now that nine o’ clock had finally passed, it was the first time the station was completely empty since she had dared to show herself outside of the cabin again. With no customer in sight to hear it, she started listing all her favourite curses with intensifying anger, directed at herself. After confirming nobody was coming in for a moment, she unbuttoned her tight jeans to fully assess the situation she was in by placing her hand on her bladder. The significant bulge she felt confirmed her fears; this wasn’t an amount she’d be able to hold for two hours. She also saw the edge of the yellow ring on her, now fully dried, white panties just below where her hand rested, reminding her of her near accident. If she didn’t find an alternative, she’d be adding to that with a real accident. One she couldn’t hide. She tried to find options, but next to shutting the door when the shop was empty, running to the toilet and having to embarrassingly explain that to several people after the fact, her only other option to not pee her pants or on the floor was to pee in the bottle. The bottle she’d have to empty first. Something she also couldn’t risk doing without the doors shut. And she knew from previous emergencies that one bottle was not enough to keep it all in, and the last time she had to resort to peeing in a half litre bottle she couldn’t stop when it was full and peed all over the floor of her car. “Why did I throw away the other bottle?” she thought to herself. The more she thought about it, the more she didn’t want to risk a bathroom emergency being good enough to breach protocol to risk losing her job. It had taken her ages to get one, and she really needed the money next to be able to pay for her education. Despite her moral objections to the company she worked for, this had been her only option. She couldn’t risk losing this job. Despite her bladder getting pretty full already, and re-buttoning her jeans only emphasizing how quickly her situation was becoming dire, she just had to drink her water so her bottle would be empty. The quicker she would deal with this, the better her chances were of not accidentally peeing all over the floor. She started to take a big gulp, but with her entire body protesting the addition of more liquid to her system she had trouble swallowing all of it. Getting it empty as quickly as she could turned out to be rather slow, and it took her ten minutes until she finally did it. Just when she was ready to shut the doors for a minute though, suddenly several people, both from cars stopping and from the residential area, approached the shop. She couldn’t just sit there and not let them in. She crossed her legs again, and her bladder screamed out, having thought it was close to relief. She was shifting in her seat and bouncing her legs again while helping them, and the line quickly grew to over ten people. Why do they always arrive in groups? Fifteen minutes later, the shop was empty again. There were no cars pumping gas for now. This was the moment. She unscrewed the lid from the bottle and unbuttoned her jeans, but as she stood up to reach for the panel controlling the doors, they slid open again. Unbuttoning had given her bladder some much needed space, but re-buttoning made her need grow even worse, just as bad as it was when Jess left. Rounding the corner of the building was a cute girl probably a little bit younger than her, walking quickly with one hand pushing the front of her skirt between her legs, leaving no doubt that she was experiencing something similar. “H… Hi, is y... your, ehm, toilet, closed?” she said while hopping from one foot to the other, panic in her voice. “No, I have a key here you can use if you bring it back afterwards,” Gina answered, also doing a pee dance again. As she slid it through the small gap in the counter below the bulletproof glass meant for exchanging money, she suddenly heard a hissing sound followed by a loud pattering on the floor. Gina looked down and clearly saw how the black-and-white checkered skirt between her legs had immediately soaked through. The girl quickly grabbed the key, turned around and ran out of the store, but obviously didn’t stop peeing for a second. Seeing her glistening legs, soaked socks and overflowing shoes, leaving behind a continuous trail of pee between the counter and the door, and hearing the hissing and the sound of a waterfall hitting the tiles that had just dried was too much for Gina and her bladder started contracting. She managed to stop it after the first leak re-wetting the crotch of both her panties and jeans, but she knew she’d end up similarly to that poor girl if she didn’t act now. This time reaching the panel was the first thing she did. Immediately afterwards she unbuttoned her jeans once more but just before the doors closed shut behind the girl, they detected movement and opened again. In the door opening, a guy was standing, looking at the poor girl who was now stopped in her tracks. It being a summer evening, it was still light enough that you could see the puddle she was making on the pavement next to the shop looking past the legs of the guy staring at her in disbelief. The automatic sliding doors still being open, refusing to close with someone in the vicinity, Gina had to re-button her jeans once more. She could just avoid screaming out in agony as the extra pressure on her bladder pushed more urine towards her final defences. She put both her hands in her crotch, wet once more from her previous leak, but it didn’t help. Her already weakened muscles couldn’t handle it. Her mind was still set on holding it in, but her body had given up and opened the floodgates. Urine soaked through her pants rapidly, some of it running over her fingers and dripping down on the ground below her but most of it going down the legs of her pants, the tightness of them making the pee running down the back and the front circle around her legs and joining up at several points, most notably around her knees. When she finally gave up and removed her dripping wet hands from her crotch, still glistening with pee actively exiting her body when it was already filling up her shoes. Staring down in disbelief at her continuing accident, she heard someone speak. “You dirty bitches! Never fucking mind.” The guy, probably halfway through his twenties, had an angry look on his face. Normally, Gina would go off on anyone calling her or another girl or woman the b-word, but this time it just resulted in the tears, already building up in her eyes, to start streaming down her face as the guy made his way out of the shop, careful to step over the pee the other girl had left on the floor. Behind him stood that girl, face red and teary eyed just like Gina, her make-up ruined and awkwardly holding the useless key, looking down at Gina’s accident. “Well, I guess we’re both not alone,” she said through a hoarse voice that sounded like she was on the verge of sobbing, but having a chuckle through her tears. Gina’s bladder was finally empty, and her pants immediately started to cool down a little bit. Gina similarly had a small chuckle. “I guess you don’t need that anymore,” Gina answered, motioning at the key in the girl’s hand. Her voice more similar to the girl’s voice than she had hoped. They were both smiling at each other through the tears. As awkward and embarrassing as it was for both of them, they found some camaraderie in having it happen to both of them at the same time. “Good thing you had the foresight to put that wet floor sign up already,” the girl said while handing the key back, causing Gina to outright laugh through the tears. She felt so hopeless, but at least there was someone to feel hopeless with. “Since I’m here anyway, I think I’ll start smoking again if I have to walk home like this,” the girl said, before ordering her brand and a lighter. “Can I see your ID first?” Gina asked. Both still clearly crying just from the sound of their voices, but a bit more comforted than they were a few minutes ago. “Oh come on Gina,” the girl said, referring to the name tag. “I’m sorry, I have to ask,” Gina said apologetically. The girl turned out to be twenty-one, easily old enough for the minimum of eighteen. “At least you can hide until your skirt is a bit less wet, I’m stuck here working in jeans until eleven, Naomi,” Gina said as she handed the smokes to her, referring to the name she saw on the ID in a similar vein Naomi had just done to her. “That’s actually a great idea, thanks! Oh, and here’s some make-up remover, you need it.” Using her phone as a mirror, Gina saw how bad it was, and quickly removed it all, luckily before anyone stepped inside. After smoking a cigarette, the girl got it back from her and hid in the bathroom for a while. When she came back out half an hour later to thank Gina, the only visible proof of her accident was the wetness on her socks, and of course the river of pee on the floor that at that point nobody could link to her, while the wetness in Gina’s pants by that point had spread through the fabric of her jeans even more to the point of there barely being a dry spot below her hips. She was jealous. She knew how easy it was to hide an accident in a skirt, but they were only allowed to wear jeans on the job. The only thing she had to hide her accident was a big blue bin bag, draped over her lap while she sat on the chair. Over the evening, several customers complained about the pee on the floor, causing Gina to explain how she can’t leave her cabin after nine. Despite her best efforts, the bin bag attracted enough attention that several people, especially the ones buying cigarettes, noticed her accident. It was the most humiliating evening she had ever had. One man who complained about the puddle and then saw her wet jeans from under the bin bag got absolutely furious, assuming she had first peed herself in the shop before nine and had then refused to clean it up, using the story about someone else peeing herself at the exact same time and not being allowed in the shop after nine as an excuse to be lazy and force people to walk in pee. He got Gina sobbing trying to explain. Luckily she got some sympathy from the people behind him who got him to stop but he said he was going to file an official complaint about her, and later one girl tried to comfort her by admitting that it happens to her too sometimes. Overall, most people chose to not say anything the numerous times the bag didn’t completely cover their sight of her jeans, but she was pretty sure they all knew she had wet her pants. Especially the ones who saw her after that one mean man. After closing down the register and doors at eleven exactly, Gina still had to mop up all the pee. She didn’t look forward to going outside, her jeans still visibly wet, but after filling up a bucket with hot water she came back into the shop to see Naomi, now wearing shorts, knocking on the glass door, smiling and pushing a skirt and a pair of panties against the door. She officially wasn’t allowed to do this, but she’d give anything not to have to go home and sit in her car like this so she let her in. “I’ve got you some clean clothes!” Naomi said, beaming with joy. Still down, Gina could only manage a meek smile. “Come on, you change while I help you with this,” Naomi said while grabbing the mop from Gina’s hands. She immediately started cleaning the floor where she had her accident. After a moment of consideration, Gina decided she could trust her enough to go to the back to change for a minute. She was gonna change out of the company blouse anyway. It took a while peeling off her soaked jeans, and once she was done and carefully carried her wet clothes on one arm, keeping away from her own shirt and Naomi’s rather short skirt, and the blouse on the other, barefoot because she didn’t want to put her feet back into those wet shoes, Naomi stood there waiting for her. She perked up somehow looking at the collection of wet clothes, but then looked apologetic. “Oh sorry, I should’ve brought some shoes or something too!” she said. “No worries, this is already way better than I had hoped for,” Gina answered. She opened the door to the cabin to grab the bin bag. The smell of her own urine, already with her through her clothes, filled her nostrils even stronger as she did since Naomi couldn’t reach this part. She put all her clothes inside the bag and turned around to get the mop, but Naomi already stood there with it, ready to go. “No, this is mine,” Gina said, grabbing the mop back and starting to mop it up. The water in the bucket already had a yellowish tint from Naomi’s accident. “But you helped me so that nobody except for that shithead saw that I wet myself, while you were stuck in your wet pants!” Naomi protested while touching Gina’s arm gently, but she let her mop. “It’s fine, it’s my own fault for forgetting to go before nine. Besides, I’m not even allowed to let you in the shop after eleven, let alone in here,” Gina said. She might get into trouble already. Especially with someone from the security company standing outside for the last twenty minutes, who saw her let Naomi in. After finishing the floor, the wet cushion of the chair still stood there. She had no solution for that. She had to sit down to preserve some dignity, and the chair paid the price. “Thanks for helping me, what’s your number so I can return your clothes next week?” Gina said after closing the door to the cabin. “You can have my number but you can keep the clothes, you helped me avoid a lot of humiliation,” Naomi answered. “But you returned the favor.” “Honestly only after I told my mom what happened and said I wish I could help you too, I’m so dumb for not realizing I could on my own, haha” Naomi said. She had such a sweet smile, Gina thought. It lightened her mood. “I also don’t want to train myself to associate peeing my pants with getting cute clothes for free, what if it becomes a Pavlovian response?” Gina said. Naomi laughed. “I guess I’ll just have to come by here with cute clothes for all your shifts to make sure you didn’t have another accident. Just give me your order, or do you trust me picking out some sexy clothes for you? I mean, these already look great on you!” Naomi added a wink after that. Was she… flirting? Gina wasn’t sure and just laughed awkwardly. She didn’t want to assume. What if she just went for it and this girl was straight? That would be one great way to ruin a possible new friendship. Gina just hoped. If she was, she definitely was more daring than her. She couldn’t dream of doing that with someone before she knew if they’re even into girls. Then Naomi went in for a hug and embraced Gina closely, who returned. After a few seconds, Naomi whispered in her ear. “I like your socks” Naomi pulled back with a suggestive smile. Gina realized. She had been wearing her pride socks that day. She felt her face go red. She tried to suppress a smile for a second but had to give up. A meek “thanks” was all she could muster. She was always worse at flirting with people she genuinely liked. “So, what’s your number, then I’ll call you,” Naomi said, breaking a silence that nearly got awkward. Driving back home, all Gina could think about was Naomi. Her smile, her demeanour, her legs… they looked so nice wet. Ehm, her flirting, her wet skirt, NO. Her hug, her touch, she wished she could see her panties, maybe they were also see-through like… STOP IT. She couldn’t wait to get home and take care of herself. She tried to avoid it, but her mind kept wandering back to when Naomi’s pee was streaming through the front of her skirt. After she parked her car, she automatically pushed her hand into her gifted skirt the same way she had seen Naomi do. She massaged herself through it, and immediately felt wet. Too wet. She turned around and saw a wet spot on her seat? She felt the back of her skirt. Also wet. She felt the front of her skirt. It had gotten wetter. Suddenly hissing. A familiar hissing. Pee ran down her legs onto the asphalt below. Through the skirt. She was peeing herself again. She had felt it a little bit during the car ride, but it just came out without warning. And apparently it had done so before without her even noticing. Concerning. But for now, she was just concerned with getting some privacy in her own bed, and quickly got inside. She tried to cut it off, but kept dribbling the entire way there. She left a trail of drops everywhere she went, until she had closed her bedroom door. She started rubbing herself through the wet skirt and wet panties, picking up the pace, and her urethra had opened fully once more. Without any mental block it had become impossible to stop. She got horny just from wetting herself uncontrollably, but her mind going back to when Naomi had her accident and her peeing her pants right after, and then them being left together at the gas station, both in visibly wet clothes, sent her over the edge. She couldn’t keep quiet. “What’s wrong with me?” she thought afterwards, for multiple reasons. She was disgusted with what she just did and what she was getting turned on by. But when she went to bed, she couldn’t bring herself to take off those wet panties. Those are Naomi’s panties. And she just peed in them. Maybe Naomi has peed in them before too? She drifted off. She dreamt of Naomi. Of her accidentally peeing those shorts when she got home. Of her then masturbating through soaked white panties. She woke up. She felt it as soon as she moved. For the first time since high school, she had peed the bed while sober. “What’s wrong with me?” she thought again.
  3. Here is a bit of reader insert bed wetting fiction. I hope it’s enjoyable to someone. If you like it, please let me know. It motivates me to write more. *originally posted (and ignored) on AO3 under the pen name StOrY1. ————- “Heeeey! (Y/N)! Is that it? Did you finish your last test?” Your roommate offers you a grin and a double thumbs up as you plod exhaustedly into the room. You ignore her, flopping face down on the bed with a groan of exhaustion. After one week you’ll graduate from college. Right now, having pulled two consecutive all nighters to finish up your senior thesis and study for your physics final, the only thing you want is to sleep. Your roommate crouches at the end of your bed, shaking you playfully by the shoulder. “Come on,” she says. “You can’t pass out without a celebratory drink.” “Watch me,” you mutter, but you know it’s no use. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and pushing your hair (greasy from a week of being too busy to shower) out of your face. You’ve never been awake for this long before. Robotically, you take the beer that your roommate thrusts into your hand. You down it in three huge gulps, hoping that’ll make her go away. Instead, she hands you another beer. “How was the physics final anyway?” “I swear to god, I think I was hallucinating,” you complain. Actually, you still feel that way now. The beer in your hand is dream-like. It’s more like something that is happening to you rather than something you’re actively doing. It’s like, the mouth that is opening is yours and the throat the beer is going down is yours, but what do you really have to do with that in the grand scheme of things. “I’m sure you aced it like you did everything else,” your roommate says. “Seriously, in the last four years I haven’t seen you screw up anything.” You shrug. “I guess I screw up as much as anybody else,” you say, swallowing back a burp. “Like fuck you do. Have another beer.” The third beer is the charm that gets your roommate to leave you alone. You curl up in bed, not bothering to take off your shoes. You’re just so tired! All you want to do is sleep, yet it’s hard for reasons your exhaustion numbed brain can’t figure out. You shift back and forth in bed, aware of a growing pressure and discomfort in your lower belly. It’s almost an urgency, but you’re way too sleepy to feel urgent about anything. Somehow you drift off, only to be awakened a short time later by a pang in your bladder. <i>What?</i> you think groggily. Then: Oh, never mind. The discomfort resolves itself. Your dorm room is usually chilly, but you grow warm. The comfy warmth starts at your crotch, and seeps down your thighs and up your back. You’re awake enough to know that this will be a problem, but not awake enough to care. You were a bed wetter late into your teens, but now you’re twenty-four, and disbelieving that your body is betraying you like this. Oh well, it feels nice to relax and let your body do what it wants, especially after fighting it to stay awake as long as you did. This is probably just a stupid dream. No way you’re really wetting the bed as a college senior. As though from far away, you overhear your roommate and somebody else giggling. Whatever. You fall fully back asleep before you finish peeing. Even a soaking wet bed isn’t enough to keep you from sleeping like a rock for the next six hours. When you open your eyes, the light is off and somebody has laid a blanket over you and your wet jeans. You shiver. Your head hurts. Your priority should be to clean yourself up, but all you really want is to be warm so you can sleep. You sigh in discontent, and take the laziest way out— you deliberately wet yourself again. It’s not like things can get worse, and at least now you’re warm enough to go back to sleep. You’ll face the consequences tomorrow. Said consequences come in the form of a drenched mattress, skin that is sticky with piss, and a roommate who smirks at you as you sit up and survey the considerable damage you did to yourself during the night. “I take back what I said about you never screwing up,” your roommate says, not unkindly. You hide your face in your hands, unable to meet her eyes. Your face is hot with embarrassment, though the rest of you is cold with last night’s stale urine. “Was... was anybody else here?” you ask, thinking back to the laughter that you either heard or dreamt you heard. “A few people,” your roommate admits. “But don’t worry about it. Nobody hates you or anything. Honestly, I think we were kind of relieved.” “Relieved?” you ask. “Yeah. You’re like our resident super-human, with your grades and everything. Now that we’ve seen you wet the bed, we know you’re just a normal person who makes mistakes like the rest of us.” You’re not sure what to think of that. All you know is that, as you stand up to take your walk of shame to the bathroom to clean up, you feel humbled, stupid, and small. Your drenched jeans cling to your skin, and you decide never to screw with your sleep schedule so badly again. One accident you can live down, but it’s not something you want to make a habit out of. Or is it? It had felt nice to stop struggling and just let things happen for once.
  4. A few years back, I was out with a couple friends, one of which was female, where someone said something funny and she busted out laughing hysterically. After several seconds of this, she crouched down almost to the ground with her legs very slightly parted saying she was going to pee her pants if she didn't stop laughing. After a few seconds, she stood up and said something, but quickly after said "I have to go to the bathroom". Not sure if she fully made it but I didn't see any evidence of not making it. Has anyone else seen a girl do this (or any females themselves do this), either to hold their pee while laughing or as they were starting to actually have an accident?
  5. Hi all! Have you ever been told to wet your pants? And what did you do? And this includes anytime someone has told you or given you permission to wet yourself. Such as a parent saying it's ok if you were desperate on a long car ride. This has not happened to me. So I'm curious to hear all your stories(: thanks for reading.
  6. Hey, This isn’t the first time I’ve wet the bed in my sleep, but it was equally unnerving as the first. I was staying in a hotel for work. It’s less common now than before COVID. Back then, my partner didn’t know about my fetish so was opportunistic with nights away. I was always extremely cautious about leaving the rooms pristine. I would conduct games on bed pads / in diapers, and took sufficient wipes and disinfectant to thoroughly cleanup after. It’s only when I confessed my fetish that my partner admitted finding some ‘wetting kit’ in my packing once. Bless her, she kept quiet all this time to avoid embarrassment. I was mortified but admittedly very endeared by her discretion. I’m grateful such secrecy is no longer needed. Besides the dishonesty, when I’m away for work it’s because I have long physical days on location, so passion in the hotel room was always finite. I digress. About 10 days ago I checked in with my colleagues late after an extremely tiring day. I emptied my bladder in the shower, bedded down, then called my partner to say our goodnights. Perhaps goodnites would have been more appropriate. (Fabulous pun, you’re welcome!) I didn’t feel turned on. I had a dehydration headache. I hadn’t drunk alcohol. My bladder was most definitely empty. I was very, very tired. In the night the unthinkable woke me. I was lying on wet sheets. Unlike previous times this has happened, I hadn’t been dreaming about pee or anything erotic. In fact, I hadn’t dreamt at all. I also didn’t wake while peeing, feeling the unmistakable trickle and instantly clenching up. None of that. I woke with no indication of incontinence at all, other than wet sheets. Besides where I was laying, they were cold. The mishap evidently occurred a while before I stirred. Definitely not time of the month. My second sleepy thought was that, because I was near a window, this was condensation or rain or something that had made it somehow into the bed. But I took long breaths under the covers and the aroma was unmistakable. I traced the damp patch with my fingers and confirmed it was centred around my bottom. Indeed, my panties were soaked through too. Perhaps this was done by a previous occupant and my weight on the sheets had simply pushed the liquid to the surface? I know, sounds silly. I was half asleep when I thought this and it was enough of an explanation for me to drift back to sleep. The light of morning confirmed that I had wet the bed. I felt awful. It was unclear just how much disobedient pee had made its escape from my sleeping body, but it was clearly substantial. Not only by the smell in the room, but by the distinct large yellow stain I had inadvertently created. After so many times I had peed in hotel beds and left the room evidence free, I had failed spectacularly. I felt awful. Before checkout, I stripped the bed to find the hotel had a protector on the mattress. Thank goodness. The mattress itself was dry. Unfortunately the duvet cover was not waterproof. I bundled it all so it could be handled by dry patches alone, and left the mess in the shower along with a very apologetic note. My panties were sacrificed in a sanitary bag in the bin. If I carried cash, I would have left a tip. I can only hope housekeeping were not offended by my accident. To be brutally honest, I was also very worried about an additional service charge being seen by my boss. I can’t imagine the embarrassment there. I planned an unimaginative cover story about a spilled drink and hoped the conversation would never occur. It hasn’t yet, so looks like that’s the end of it. The whole experience has left me extremely nervous. Subconscious bed wetting has been a long running fear for me. My sister had problems with it into her teens and I totally empathise with the pain it caused. Luckily I’ve had very few actual accidents but all the time I was with my partner before she knew my fetish, I was terrified of something occurring. Both awake during playtimes and asleep. Now, thankfully I feel an event like this at home would be generally acceptable. My fear is this could happen again while on business, or worse staying with my partner’s family sleeping in her bed. The only rational explanation I can think of was that I was extremely tired and sleeping in a different bed. Could that cause a slip up? If so I fear diapers may have to be used for trips away from home. The real worry was that all the things I can think would prevent it were already done. As I said, I peed before bed. I was unhealthily dehydrated after a long day, and I had no alcohol in my system. Scary.
  7. So I've been into wetting/desperation pretty much as long as I've been into anything, but never done more than watch videos or read poll results until today. I came home from work needing to pee, and decided I wanted to just get off before showering bc I was sweaty and gross anyway. I was trying to get off quick so I could shower but while I was touching myself I just leaked totally uncontrollably for the first time ever. I guess I didn't really notice how much I needed to go but all of a sudden I was super desperate and also turned on, especially after feeling it come out. I decided since I'd already leaked and could feel a wet spot, I might as well try to make myself have an accident. I started doing polls on my phone and leaked a lot more, so much that I could feel the crotch of my shorts was totally soaked and the wet patch was down the thighs of my shorts too. At one point I leaked for like 10 seconds and had to grab myself to stop. By that point I was so wet and my clit was so sensitive. While I was doing a challenge and pressing my bladder on the counter, I had to grab myself to stop leaking and came basically immediately. I wet for like 20 seconds before I was able to get it under control, then finished going in the shower after taking my shorts off. I'd never had the guts to make an account here or actually wet myself before today happened but it was super hot and I got off really fast.
  8. Guest

    Hank J Wimbleton omo part2

    Just had an idea, what if Hank were kidnapped by agents and they tied him up in basement for a long time before Sanford and Deimos came up to save him.. (pt. 2)
  9. I am trying to start writing here again. I hope you all enjoy _______________________________________________ If there is one thing Casey loves other than teaching it’s routine. She drinks the same amount of drinks every day, takes the same breaks, and it has served her well over her past couple years of teaching. She’s the youngest teacher at her school, only 25 years old, so she tries very hard to show the others she isn’t too young for her position of authority. She always looks well put together with her black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, dressed in blouses that show off her ample breasts and skirts or pants that hug the curve of her ass perfectly. When she arrives at school it’s always ready for class with a smile on her face and a friendly but sufficiently authoritative attitude. Today though her usually bright hazel eyes had been slightly glazed over when she first went into work, her white blouse and gray slacks not quite as neatly pressed as usual. She’d been up late catching up with an old friend who had returned to town and, as a result, she violated her routine. She woke up later than normal and had been using coffee to supplement her energy levels. She needed it to deal with the rowdy freshman in her second period introductory English class. High schoolers could truly be as troublesome as grade schoolers when they wanted to be. That was in the past though. As she finishes another coffee she knows it can be her last since she only has one last class and it’s one of her favorites to teach. As she drains the rest of her cup, one of her fellow teachers walks in. “I didn’t realize you were such a coffee junkie,” Jared teases as he steps into the teacher’s lounge and moves to grab an apple from the fruit bowl behind her. “Usually I’m not but I was up a little too late last night,” Casey admits somewhat sheepishly, giving her coworker a shy grin. Jared is the only teacher around Casey’s age at the high school, clocking in at only a couple years older. He’s tall, about 6’ 2” compared to her 5’ 6”, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes that always seemed to dance with the slightest hint of mischief. It’s no surprise that Casey had developed the slightest crush on him since joining the school a few months prior. He’s charming and funny and something about him always made her tummy flip. Perhaps it’s this effortless charm that caused Casey to completely forget a crucial part of her usual routine. Casey’s last class is AP English, which means that the students are all seniors who genuinely want to be there. All in all it leads to more maturity in the classroom and for a more fun class for both her and the students. She always offers up her time afterwards since it’s the last class of the school day so if students want to ask questions or continue the conversation they can. Once that finishes, she makes her way home down mostly backroads until she reaches her modest apartment. It’s a schedule that affords little opportunity for bathroom runs so Casey always uses the ladies’ room during her break before that last period class. Except for today, when she’d been too distracted by Jared’s wink and offer to walk her to her classroom to think of something as unsexy as a trip to the washroom. She doesn’t realize her mistake until about halfway through class when her bladder starts to alert her of its desire to be emptied. She pushes the thought aside as she continues to guide her students through a discussion on Walden from her place standing at the front of the classroom. Her students continue to talk and debate from their seats at the large table Casey had insisted be placed in her room. Desks, she had argued, were far too stuffy and true discussion was only possible at a large table where she and her students could sit as equals. The principal hadn’t loved her making waves so early in her tenure at the school but she had gotten her wish. She’s even more grateful for her insistence now as her bladder once again makes itself known. The students’ focus is primarily on each other instead of her as she presses her thighs together and mentally admonishes her kidneys for working so quickly. Casey takes a seat at the table to make it easier on her bladder as it gets more and more insistent. She knows she should be paying attention to the discussion but her students seem to have it handled and she would much rather focus on keeping herself under control and her need a secret. As time creeps on and her bladder continues to fill, she can’t help but think over how she’s gotten to this point when having to use the restroom has never been an issue in this class before. Only then does she consider all of the coffee she’s downed, the water she’s drank to compensate for the caffeine’s dehydrating effects, and finally her skipped bathroom break. If she weren’t in a classroom full of students she’d curse herself out for her own irresponsibility. Casey’s thoughts continue to wander but once they start fixating on how good it would feel to be able to leave to relieve herself she realizes perhaps she should focus on something else. So she hones in on her students, watching to see which ones are participating more or less than the others. Eventually she settles on one student in particular, Brady, an earnest kid with brown eyes and brown hair. He always manages to cause quite the stir amongst the school’s female population. On multiple occasions Casey had heard girls giggling and whispering about him and it always brought her a little bit of nostalgia to watch them react to him the same way she probably would if she were their age. High school wasn't too long ago for her so she remembers the feelings well. Still, it’s hard to reconcile the diligent student she sees in front of her now taking notes as if his life depends on it with the unattainable jock she’d heard the other students whispering about. It’s not a perfect solution, but the reminder of her own days in high school and the walk through memory lane helps keep her mind off the leaden weight sitting heavy in her abdomen and before she knows it she’s snapped back to reality by the sound of the bell ringing. “Ok guys! Great class today, as usual I’ll stick around for a bit after class if anyone has any questions, otherwise I’ll see you next week!” Casey announces, relief washing over her that she’ll be able to take her leave soon. Before she can though Brady pounces, vacating his seat and moving to the one immediately adjacent to hers as his other classmates begin to filter out. “You have a question Brady?” Casey asks in the sweetest voice she can muster. It’s a Friday afternoon and most students, no matter how enthusiastic they are on a subject, are eager to leave class and get on with their weekend. Casey prays this will also be the case with Brady as she resists the temptation to squirm in place. God it’s been years since she’s had to piss this bad. She had a rigid bathroom schedule for a reason, after all. She’d never had the strongest or largest of bladders and it had gotten her in trouble plenty of times growing up (and if she’s being honest well into college) but upon graduating and becoming a quote unquote “real adult” with a “real adult job” she’d vowed to keep it under control. Now it seems today is to be a test of that vow. “A few questions actually,” Brady replies and although Casey wants to groan or ask him to keep it short, she can’t bear to rain on his enthusiasm. She’s a teacher! It’s her job to nurture this kind of thirst for knowledge! To kill his passion just because she’d been irresponsible would make her the exact type of teacher she’d hated having growing up. The same kind that had almost made her drop out of school. No, Casey would never stoop to that level, so her bladder would just have to suck it up. Except that’s easier said than done when Brady’s “few” questions are all quite thorough. At some points they aren’t even really questions, more just opportunities for him to ramble on about his thoughts on Thoreau and the story. It’s all well and good that he’s excited but all the talk of the pond and Thoreau’s vivid descriptions of it are doing Casey and her struggling bladder no favors. The pressure in Casey’s abdomen increased with each passing minute but there’s little she can do beyond uncross and recross her legs. The more time she spends trapped in the chair, the more desperate she grows and soon she can’t help but to squirm in the seat, her hips shifting from side to side as she prays Brady is too busy monologuing to notice. She’s long since stopped paying much attention, simply making vague noises at what seem to be the appropriate times to give the impression that she’s listening. Her bladder is screaming for relief now, the yellow tide inside her pounding at the floodgates. She would give anything to be able to shove a hand inside her crotch and apply pressure to her trembling hole. Brady stops talking and looks down at his notes for a moment and Casey thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s finishing up but instead he flips to a new page and then continues again. God she could cry. Her bladder contracts painfully and Casey could swear she feels the liquid entering her urethra, so close to pouring out of her and into her little white panties. It occurs to her then that she won’t make it at this rate unless she comes up with something fast. Memories of college exams spent similarly desperate roll up to the front of her mind unbidden and as much as she wants to reject them she knows the trick she used then is likely her only chance at getting out of this situation with her dignity in tact. She focuses very intently on her bladder, doing damage assessment as a painful twinge shoots through her lower body, and only once she is sure she’s got complete mastery and awareness of it does she allow herself a short moment to relax. For no longer than one, single second hot piss jets out of her tired urethra and into her panties, instantly saturating the material. Her face must surely flush red in time with the tiny leak but the fact she’d been able to regain control gives Casey hope. She can live with damp panties. Although she’s well aware her gray pants will show if she leaks anymore, she also knows the school will have pretty much cleared out by now. As long as Brady leaves before seeing her stand, she should be able to make it to her car without anyone noticing if she’s got the slightest wet stain on her slacks. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the alternative so she allows herself to relax again, another spurt spraying out of her like a firehose. “Ms. Parker?” Panic shoots through Casey’s veins like ice water as the shock of Brady addressing her causes her leak to last a little longer than she’d intended. She’s sure it must show in her eyes when she focuses back in on her student. “What?” she asks, her voice an octave higher than it should be as her bladder screams to be allowed relief once more. She’s keenly aware that her pants are more wet than she’d like them to be but she can’t check when Brady is staring at her the way he is. “I asked if the pond is a metaphor for life and how we should live in the moment,” Brady explains, his disappointment already evident. “Ah sorry, I must’ve zoned out for a second I…” Brady visibly deflates. “Sorry, I’m boring you aren’t I?” he asks and immediately guilt washes over Casey. How could she be so selfish? “No! You’re not boring me, it’s just been a long day, I’m so sorry Brady,” she hurries to explain even as her body pleads with her to just let the boy go so she can go find relief. “It’s alright, I should just go. I don’t want to hold you up any longer,” he sighs. Casey’s heart aches in her chest and even though she knows she’ll regret it, she finds herself saying “Don’t worry about it, you aren’t holding me up. Let’s talk Walden ok?” Brady immediately perks back up and leans in forward to listen. Meanwhile, Casey’s body cries in protest. She was so close. So close to being able to go find relief and instead her bleeding heart had trapped her once again. Everything is far more difficult when she’s the one driving the conversation. It’s damn near impossible to focus on both the literary analysis she’s trying to give and on keeping the floodgates firmly shut. Typically, Casey doesn’t allow herself more than a couple leaks when she’s desperate. She’s discovered in college that after the third or fourth time it’s far too difficult to reseal the doors once they’re opened but this is an emergency. So she takes the risk and allows herself to relax just a fraction, but it’s a poorly calculated one. She tried to just crack open the door to the tidal wave bearing down on her urethra, but the force of the liquid breaks the door off its hinges. With her attention divided between Brady and her bladder, she’d lacked the control necessary to just let out a little and now she stutters in her sentence, face flushing a vibrant red as her crotch grows warm. Her panties are saturated in seconds and it doesn’t take long for her gray slacks to start darkening as well. “Ms. Parker are you ok?” Brady asks, but it sounds distant as piss starts to pool in Casey’s wooden seat. Soon it’s racing down her legs and the pool in the seat grows too large to be contained there so the flood moves to the floor, creating a sizable puddle beneath the seat. It feels like an out of body experience. There’s a distant part of Casey that knows what’s happening to her but all she can do is uncross her legs and stare in numb shock as the piss stain on her slacks grows, leaving the material dark and shiny with her fluids. After what feels like years her flow finally slows to trickle and then stops entirely and it’s as if doing so breaks the spell that had kept her numb. All of the emotions she should have been feeling come rushing in at once: shock, humiliation, relief. It’s almost overwhelming and as she looks up at her student, the one who’d born witness to her incredibly shameful act, she sees something unreadable flash through his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I think I should get going,” he tells her, his face not betraying whatever thoughts he may be having at seeing his young teacher disgrace herself so. “Yea…. You should….” “I’ll see you Monday Ms. Parker.” Casey barely notices as he rises to leave, careful to step around the puddle she’d made on the floor. Even once he’s gone she doesn’t move an inch. It’s not until the sound of the janitor coming down the hall reaches her ears that she springs into action. She knows that she should clean up the mess she’d made, but the idea of the janitor catching her wiping up her own piss in soiled pants is too mortifying to stomach. So instead she finds herself lunging for her bag where she knows she has gym clothes waiting for her and then racing off to the teacher’s lounge to change. She manages to get inside but then promptly careens into someone once she enters. “Woah there, what’s the rush?” a deep male voice asks and as if the day couldn’t get any worse when she looks up to see who she’d nearly run over, her eyes meet the mischievous green ones of none other than Jared.
  10. If so, what happened and did you witness it first hand? Did you tell them during or afterwards, and if during, did they let you watch or do anything? What was their reaction to both being desperate and it turning you on? Please answer only if they didn't know beforehand that it turned you on to see someone desperate to pee or have an accident.
  11. What's your favorite way of seeing a woman desperate to pee and how it comes out while starting to lose control? 1. Intermittent leaking or dribbling out the entire time and never fully losing control 2. Losing control as coming out in spurts that start, then stop, repeatedly 3. Leaks or trickles start running down her legs, leading to not being able to hold it any longer and fully losing control. 4. Forcefully exploding or all of a sudden coming out non-stop while desperate. 5. Other (please describe in response) Feel free to describe any experiences you may have witnessed in person as well, as it relates to any of the choices.
  12. I thought that the board might be interested in this. I'm not posting the content directly because of site guidelines. It's a clip of an accidental public wetting, filmed on a street corner as traffic goes by. It is embedded in a bunch of family video. The family is stopped at an intersection. Dad is providing commentary about the lady's situation: "I gotta go pee pee." Whoever's doing the filming focuses on a woman doing the pee dance, just before she lets it go. A stream of piss starts falling from her pants. A small puddle forms on the sidewalk. 22 seconds before the traffic moves and the scene shifts back to the fam. [Removed]
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