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My pronouns are..

Found 4,645 results

  1. Derek woke to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking. It was his favorite breakfast and his roommates, Kevin and Chris, were cooking it for his 20th birthday. Derek got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to eat his breakfast. On the way he passed thebathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He had short blond messy hair and was skinny. Girls may have thought he was attractive but he wished he was bigger. Looking at the toilet he realized he had to pee. He thought to himself “I can hold it while I eat” and walked on out to the kitchen. Once he got there breakfast just finished cooking and Kevin was putting it on a plate. Once Chris and Kevin saw him they broke out singing Happy Birthday. Derek expected this but he always hated it, He would much rather Chris and Kevin attack him or something. But he let them know that so so why wouldn’t they do that instead. After they finished they sat down to eat. Derek sat on the couch with his feet up. Derek enjoyed his meal with his favorite breakfast drink, OJ. The OJ was good but did not help his bladder. Once they finished eating Kevin went to get ready for his part time job and Chris went for a walk. Derek just sat there watching tv for awhile, he knew he should go to the bathroom but he didn’t. After a whole his need had increased rapidly and he decided he couldn’t wait. He got up and headed to the bathroom but of course the door was closed. Kevin was taking a shower. Unlike Derek Kevin was a tall muscle man and while Derek didn’t like how he looked Kevin loved how he looked. His tall white body had muscle everywhere and even a 6 Pack. He was every girls dream guy and now with water running down his sexy, hot body he thought he looked even sexier. Standing at the door Derek noticed his need was much worse then he thought, he barley could hold it. Derek pounded on the door yelling “KEVEN” But of course no answer. He leaned against the door crossing his legs and holding himself. Right then Chris came in and headed straight to his room. He came out 5mins later in only his green boxers. Derek have had a crush on Chris forever. He had short brown hair, wore glasses, and had an amazing tan. Just Derek’s type and seeing him in only his green boxers was a dream come true. He went and stood behind Derek grabbing himself as well. Derek looks at him and says “you have to pee really bad too”? Chris nodded bouncing from one foot to another. Derek was doing the same. After what seemed like hours Keven turned the water off. Hearing this Derek once again pounded on the door and yelled “open the door Chris and I are about to piss ourselves”! Keven opened the door to see both his roommates with there legs crossed and holding them self’s. As soon as the door opened Chris tried to push pass Derek but Derek pushed him back and said “wait your turn”! Chris replied “I can’t, I’m about to piss my pants”! “So am I!” Derek said as he walked into the bathroom. Chris tried to follow him but Derek pushed him out saying “wait your turn” and closing the door and locking it. Chris looked in shock as Derek closed the door. He had to go so bad he was bursting. He grabbed himself and did the potty dance like a little kid. He knew that he couldn’t hold it in much longer but he had to make it. “Please God let me make it” he begged as he jumped around. Derek could feel hot piss leaking into his pants but since his shorts were black you couldn’t see any wetness. He got to the toilet and pulled down his pants and undies and legged the lid. As he released Chris heard and couldn’t take it anymore. His own bladder released. It started as an stream but quickly turned into a jet of hot piss soaking his green boxers and running down his legs foaming a huge pee puddle around his feet. Chris couldn’t believe what was happing but it felt so good he didn’t care. Right then the bathroom door opened reveling Derek. Drake watched as his roommate and crush peed his undies. As Derek stood there staring, Chris started to cry realizing what was happing. Derek walked over and hugged Chris as his piss slowed. Looking at Chris Derek couldn’t help but to think he looked cute. Not being able to stop himself Derek kissed Chris on the cheek. Chris looked at Derek in shock but after a moment pulled Derek in and kissed him back. Derek was surprised but enjoying the moment. Keven came out of his room to see what all the noise was. When he saw Chris and Derek he stopped in his tracks. Derek wrapped his arms around Chris as they kissed again but on the lips this time.
  2. PrincessPeeach

    Wet grey.......

    panties, or underwear, or boxers, or boxer briefs.......or whatever really if it’s wet, and grey, post it here! (spinoff of the other thread about wet grey panties...thought it would be cool to have a thread where everyone can share a pic, of all different wet grey wear) I’ll start us off, wet grey leggings
  3. ~Skunky Nikki~

    Live Action Messing

    Hello! Welcome to live action messing, where you can tell your current poop desperation and messing experience here! I decided that since there's a live action Omorashi thread, why not have a live action soiling thread as well? Lol Hope you all enjoy your time here!
  4. View File Tights/Leg Warmer Wetting Cold day, warm clothes, even warmer wetting! Heads-up: I do get very close to naked here. I was really just feeling myself and my body that day. I hope y'all find the time and the space to feel yourselves too Submitter themerger Submitted 11/17/2019 Category Desperation Clothing  
  5. Here4theFun

    Tied up

    From the album: Digital art

    Just wanted to draw a bit of bondage and omo.
  6. It's cold and grey outside, I have lots of time at hand. So why not add some extra fun? Being desperate while bound sounds good, right? So I started filling up with water, around 3/4 of a liter, while setting up my carpet and chair protections and preparing a 1-liter-can of tea. I have a lot of totally outdated and barely ever worn ties in the back of my closet, why not put them to good use? The rules I set for myself: I would stay strapped to my chair for at least 2 hours or at least 1 hour after I finished all the drinks, whichever lasted longer. I would try to finish the drinks during the first hour. As I would need my arms free to be able do drink, I forbid myself to get them anywhere near my crotch. When ready with my preparations, I had 1 liter of tea, a 1-liter-caraffe of water and one more 1/4-liter-glass of water just in reach. I couldn't move my legs at all, the lower belly and my shoulders were tied to arm and back rests. All good to go. After 3/4 of an hour I had finished most of the tea and some water. The pressure was building up quickly. Only shortly later I felt the strong need to squirm (which I couldn't) and to hold myself (which I wasn't allowed to). Just over an hour into the session I started leaking. I felt so helpless and so wonderful and happy at the same time while feeling the warm wetness spread around my private parts! For the moment nothing seemed to exist outside my little wet world. After having flooded my pants 3 more times over the course of following 1.5 hours, I felt most of the tea and water had left my body. I was a soggy mess from mid belly down, and I loved it. With little left to warm me up I untied myself and took care of the most important business off adding some stickiness to the wetness. I honestly can call this afternoon a great success.
  7. Sapphire3619

    He's Doing So Well

    I actually started writing another story yesterday, but I decided the scenario was too similar to one's I've done before and the chaptered one I plan to do next, so I decided to go with this one. Hope you like it! *** “Oh, Logan!!” Logan held back a sigh, and instead pasted a smile on his face, poising his notepad in front of him. Based on the tone of Mrs. Haskins’ voice, he already knew what she was going to say, and it wasn’t going to be her order. “How’s Jada doing, honey? How’s your mom? Has your dad been able to make it up there to see them?” “They’re doing OK,” Logan answered, starting his patented vague update. “The doctors say Jada’s numbers are going in the right direction.” “That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Haskins beamed. “We’re all praying for her and your family.” “Thanks, Mrs. Haskins.” Logan paused for just a second, for politeness. “Can I take your order?” Having fulfilled the societally-mandated duty of checking up on Logan’s family, Mrs. Haskins and her friend ordered a couple of club sandwiches and fries. Logan noted the meals down carefully and took the order back to the grill. Of course, it wasn’t just at work that Logan had to answer near-identical questions about his family. Ever since 10-year-old Jada had been diagnosed with leukemia, it seemed like every adult in town – at school, at the diner, at the grocery store, wherever – wanted to stop Logan to express their sympathies and ask how Jada was doing. Logan understood, but when the diner was busy, he just wanted to do his job. Now nearing the end of his senior year in high school, Logan had worked at the Silver Spoon Diner for almost two years. It was owned and run by Mike and Joanne Neeley, a local family who regularly hired high school students to work as servers. It was a small but busy place, with one long counter and a few tables and booths. Logan took orders, served food, poured drinks, and generally helped keep things moving, especially on weeknights like the current Wednesday. It was just before 8:00, and it was just Logan, Ned the dishwasher, and Trey, the Neeley’s youngest son, working the grill. Trey had just finished his junior year at college and was home for a few weeks before starting his summer internship. Having been raised in the diner, Trey (and his siblings) always helped out when they were home. Logan didn’t know Trey too well, but the young man seemed nice enough. At least he didn’t make constant comments about Logan’s family. He just let Logan do his job, which was all Logan really wanted, at least for a few hours per week. But it was a small enough town that Logan could never really escape well-meaning people who wanted to ask questions and express their support. Logan set drinks down in front of Mrs. Haskins and her friend. As her turned away, he heard Mrs. Haskins mutter yet another common refrain of the past few months. “He’s doing so well. His parents are lucky to have him.” Logan closed his eyes briefly as he rounded the corner. “…doing so well…lucky…” Adults said it all the time these days. And with every person that comments on how well Logan was holding up, how wonderful it was that his parents didn’t have to worry about him, Logan’s soul calcified just a little. At 18 years old, Logan was plenty independent and mature for his age. He loved being an older brother, and he doted on Jada. When she’d been diagnosed, Logan had naturally made the unspoken decision to help however he could. As their mom had moved 4 hours away to be with Jada at the children’s cancer ward, and their dad had taken on extra work to help pay for expenses, it turned out that Logan’s best option for helping was to take care of himself – keep working, getting himself to school, and continuing to cover his own expenses, so he didn’t have to ask anything of his stressed parents. He’d Facetime with Jada at least once per day, to try to cheer her up. He hadn’t been able to visit her yet, since he worked every weekend, but he always made time to respond to her texts. So yes, Logan’s parents were lucky to have him. He was well aware of that. And the pressure to remain helpful and unobtrusive was drowning him on dry land. But Logan couldn’t afford to drown or breakdown or otherwise stop. He was graduating in a few weeks, and he’d already been accepted to an out-of-state college, prospects that were overwhelming enough for any high school senior. With his sister’s cancer and his parents’ completely understandable tension, Logan barely even knew where to look. Instead, he just kept his head down, studying for his finals and working. As long as he kept busy, he could handle the pressure impinging on him from all sides. “Order up!” Logan blinked his eyes open and stepped up to the counter in front of the grill to grab Mrs. Haskins’ sandwich platter. He smiled as he placed the food down, then walked out from behind the counter to check on the customers in the main lobby. It was one of those oddly busy weekday nights, when a steady stream of customers comes in at just such intervals that Logan never really got a break. Now, with the sun setting, Logan noticed for the first time that he had to go to the bathroom. Logan frowned unconsciously. The feeling of fullness low in his abdomen felt both unwelcome and out of place. He hadn’t had a spare second to think about his body’s needs until right this second, but now that he was aware of how long it had been since he’d visited the restroom, the sensation became an unavoidable irritant, like a rock in his shoe that he didn’t have time to remove. The bell above the door rang, signaling the entrance of another customer – a small group of girls from Logan’s school. Logan’s smile was automatic as he grabbed a stack of laminated menus to take to their chosen booth, but as soon as he turned away, his face fell. Under other circumstances, Logan would’ve just called to the manager (Trey, currently) that he was taking a quick break, but with only one server and one person to work the grill, Logan didn’t feel comfortable leaving the floor empty of workers. So he just kept working, for the next hour, keeping up with the steady flow of customers – seat, answer questions about his sister, order, food, check, clean up – all the while, feeling a growing sense of unease with the weight of his bladder between his hips. Any time he wasn’t actively interacting with customers, in those brief seconds as he walked between tables and the kitchen, Logan’s mind reeled. His need was a problem that he couldn’t solve, and therefore, was an issue his brain couldn’t seem to process. In between service activities, he felt sick and whiny, like an overtired kid. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying fruitlessly to release the increasing tension from his body. But there was still work to be done, not overwhelming, but constant. Nominally, the diner closed at 10, but like most locally-owned places, the Neeleys would stay open as long as there were customers. With each jangle of the door, Logan felt his chest grow tighter as the frustration of not being able to take a bathroom break pulled his psyche like an overstretched rubber band. All of a sudden, it was 9:45, and Logan was cleaning up the middle booth in the front. He heard clattering of dishes from the back, and he blinked, as if waking from a dream. He looked around to see that the dining room was empty – the table he was cleaning had been the last one. Logan let out a long exhale, bracing his hands on the table. The brief moment of relief jolted his bladder, and he reflexively pressed his thighs together. After regaining his composure, he finished wiping down the table and lifted the basin of dirty dishes. He just had to deliver the basin to Ned in the back, and then he’d finally be able to pee. “Everyone gone?” Logan jumped slightly at the sound of Trey’s voice when he pushed through the swinging door to the back. “Um, yeah,” he answered, clenching his pelvic muscles tightly to make up for the shock. Trey nodded, scraping off the grill. “I won’t lock the door just yet, but we can start closing down. Can you roll some silverware for tomorrow?” “Sure.” Logan had responded without thinking, his habit of obeying authority and being helpful practically mechanical at this point. Before he could even consider backpedaling and asking for a break (not that he would ultimately do that, but he would’ve considered it), Trey had already turned away, going to scrub down another part of the kitchen. Logan felt his lower lip start to tremble, and he bit down hard. He felt awful and strained, but quickly became irritated at himself. This was his job; he was being paid to work until close, and that included helping set up for the following day. Logan continued his way to the dishwashing station, setting down the basin next to the sink. Ned was almost finished with the last batch – he’d be able to finish what Logan brought him within minutes and be done for the night. Logan cringed with inadvertent jealousy, but he didn’t say anything. He just reached around to the basket of clean flatware on the shelf. At least Ned kept each utensil in a separate section, so Logan wouldn’t have to dig around to fine one each of knives, forks, and spoons. Grabbing a package of napkins, Logan situated himself behind the front counter, so he could keep an eye on the door. Rolling the flatware into napkins was a mindless job, and he could do it quickly, but at this point, he couldn’t stand still. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, occasionally rubbing his thighs together, and frequently, nervously looking behind him to make sure that neither Ned nor Trey were somehow staring at him. They weren’t, of course, but Logan’s nerves were frayed and his bladder was full, and logical thought wasn’t a strength of his at the moment. Just as he was finishing the last few flatware bundles, Logan heard Trey come out from the back. “It’s 10. I’m gonna turn off the outside signs and lock the door.” Logan could have cried tears of joy at Trey’s pronouncement. At least he wouldn’t have to serve any more customers. He’d just finish these last rolls, and… “Ned, you can go when you’re finished back there. Logan, can you double-check the ketchup bottles on the table, and then you can be done, too?” Logan’s stomach clenched, and he felt a strong surge from his bladder. He shoved his hand into his crotch behind the counter without even checking if Ned could see him. He wanted to whine. He wanted to writhe. He just wanted to pee, damnit! As the obedient, rational part of his brain was saying “Checking the ketchup bottles will only take a few minutes, and no one else is here, you can go as soon as you’re done,” the emotional, overwrought part was moaning in unintelligible agony. But still he moved, setting the basket of rolled silverware on the kitchen counter and heading out to the front of the diner to check the condiments on each of the tables. He heard Ned call good night, but didn’t respond. By some minor miracle, none of the ketchup bottles were low enough to require refilling. Logan slumped with relief at the last table, grabbing between his legs again for reassurance before he headed to the bathroom. He rounded the corner down the hall, nearly crying with exhaustion. He couldn’t believe how long he’d been holding it, and he was so grateful to just be done. He grabbed the door handle… Clunk. Locked. Trey had already locked the bathrooms for the night. Logan had an accident right then and there. Just a little one, a brief, completely uncontrollable gush of urine that he felt soak right through his underwear and black pants. He instantly shoved his hand between his thighs, gripping tightly against the warm, wet fabric. Breathing hard, Logan stayed hunched over, clenching tightly for several seconds. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he could just ask Trey to open the bathroom, and he’d be fine. But he wasn’t listening to that part of his brain right now. He couldn’t. His desperation overtook every cell of his body. He could handle everything in his life except having to pee so badly he was forced to hold himself like a child. Choking on unshed tears, Logan hobbled out the door into the parking lot. He’d just drive home, he’d be able to pee at home… But he couldn’t move. His keys were in his pocket, but he was leaking again. He was standing right next to the driver’s side door of his car, but he couldn’t move. Both of his hands were pressed against his dick, and he couldn’t move, or he would lose all control. Whining and panting, throat raw from repressing sobs, Logan wound his legs together stubbornly. His refusal to give up was matched only by the utter futility of his efforts. Logan let out a moan as the last of his defenses crumbled and he began to fully wet himself. He felt like his insides were collapsing. He was swallowed by the moment, caught in a whirlwind of wordless shame, hot liquid coursing down his legs. He could only whimper, brokenly, painfully, as urine forced itself from his body. Every breath Logan took was shaky. He couldn’t tell when he actually stopped having an accident because he was trembling so badly. “Logan.” Blinking tears out of his eyes, Logan looked up to see Trey, standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at him concernedly. “I…” Trey had walked out as Logan was wetting his pants, too late to do anything about it, but definitely in time to see the unmistakable trails of wetness shining under the streetlamps. Seeing a teenager have an accident was bad enough, but hearing Logan’s cracked, anguished voice, only able to rasp out a single syllable nearly broke Trey’s heart. “Come on inside and change,” Trey offered, the keys already in his hand. “I…I can’t…” Logan was trembling visibly. “You still have your school clothes, right?” Trey knew that Logan came to work straight from school, and he made the correct assumption that he didn’t wear his polyester work pants in class. Logan nodded mutely. “Just come change inside,” Trey insisted, gently but firmly. He turned and walked back to open the diner before Logan could attempt to say anything else. Vision still blurry with tears, Logan pulled his own keys out of his pocket, hands shaking. He was drained and defeated and all sorts of other feelings that he couldn’t name if he’d tried. He pulled his backpack out of the car and headed back inside. The lights were on, and the door to the bathroom was propped open, but Logan didn’t see Trey anywhere. Head down, he slunk into the bathroom, unable to stop the shuddering feeling in his chest. With the bathroom door closed behind him, Logan slumped down onto the toilet. For the first time, he made no effort to hold back the tears coursing down his face, but he did try to keep the sound of his cries to a minimum. He couldn’t take it. He knew that there was nothing he could do now but change and go home, but the shame of peeing his pants was unbearable, at least for now. Logan wept and sniffled for a few minutes, just long enough to get through the worst of his misery. As soon as he could piece together a coherent thought, he inhaled deeply and wiped his face across the back of his arm. The rational, demanding part of his brain was telling him that Trey was generously keeping the diner open, and he couldn’t make him wait any longer. He stripped off his gross, sopping pants and underwear, ran some wet paper towels up and down his legs, and slid on his jeans from school, swallowing disgust that was bordering on self-loathing. Rolling up his wet pants as best as he could before shoving them into his backpack, Logan washed his hands, then cautiously opened the bathroom door. He knew he should than Trey, but a bigger part of him was hoping that the college student wasn’t there, so Logan could just sneak out and go home. As he stepped out from the hallway, though, Logan saw Trey sitting at the counter, two plates in front of him. He looked back over his shoulder and smiled gently at the puffy-eyed teen. “Here, man.” Trey gestured toward the plates. “You look like you could use some pie.” Logan hesitated, torn between not wanting to offend Trey and desperately wanting to just go home. “Peanut butter’s your favorite, right?” Trey encouraged. Logan’s stomach growled audibly, giving him away. Shoulders slumped, he hoisted himself onto the stool next to Trey. The two young men ate in silence for a few moments, and the creamy peanut butter pie really did make Logan feel better. During his long, break-less shift, he hadn’t gotten the chance to eat, either, even though the Neeleys always encouraged them to help themselves, taking at least bites here and there when it was busy. Logan heard Trey draw in a breath beside him, and his momentary relaxation evaporated. “So, Logan-“ “I’m sorry,” Logan interrupted, softly but nervously. “I didn’t mean to…I just…” “Hey!’ Trey shook his head, face etched with pity. “Don’t worry about it, Logan. It was just an accident.” Logan flinched at the word and stared down at his plate, too embarrassed to speak any further. “No, I was going to ask-” Trey gazed sincerely at Logan “-how are you doing?” Confused, Logan looked up. Trey had just said that it was an accident; was he asking if Logan was sick? Trey did his best to keep his face neutral, even though he practically ached with sympathy for the broken teenager sitting next to him. Logan was so lost that he couldn’t even understand someone being concerned for him. “It occurred to me,” Trey went on, shoving another forkful of pie into his mouth, “that everyone in here for the past few weeks has asked about your sister or your mom or something, and that’s great,” Trey swallowed, keeping his voice light, “but I haven’t heard anyone ask how you are.” Logan’s shoulders tensed upward, and he poked at the last bite of his pie with his fork. “So I figured,” Trey continued, correctly assuming that Logan wasn’t quite in a place where he could describe his own feelings yet, “that if no one is asking how you are, then maybe you’ve somehow gotten the message that you’re not allowed to not be OK. Or that somehow everything else matters more than how you’re feeling or what you need.” This last comment struck Logan like a finger to the sternum, pointed and personal. Of course he should have known better, how stupid did he have to be to let himself get to the point of- “So I figured,” Trey repeated, interrupting Logan’s rambling thoughts, “that I should really tell you that that’s not true.” Trey paused here, staring meaningfully at Logan, so that the teen could feel his gaze, even without looking up. “I can’t even imagine how hard it must be.” Trey’s voice was gentler, now. “With your sister being sick and your parents worrying about her, and you’re worried about her, and it’s your senior year, so you’ve got all of that regular stuff, and then you’re working and basically taking care of yourself, too.” Hearing it out loud – and from someone else – was like stepping out from a steam room for Logan. He could breathe, he could see, he could be seen. Trey watched as tension visibly melted from Logan’s muscles, but the teen still didn’t speak. “Anyway,” Trey bit down on his last bite of pie. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry I haven’t asked before. And I know I’m only here for a few more weeks, but I’m here if you ever need anything, and I know Mom and Dad are, too.” Logan had put his fork down, knowing he wouldn’t be able to swallow over the lump in his throat. Trey reached over and patted Logan on the shoulder. He was a hugger, himself, but he didn’t know Logan well enough to be sure that would be helpful. Logan exhaled, deeply grateful for the reassurance, but the breath turned into a wide yawn. He covered his mouth, embarrassed, but Trey just grinned. “Not to sound too much like my mom, but it’s late, and you have school tomorrow,” Trey chided. He stood from the stool and picked up the plates. “I’ll take care of these; you go home and get some rest.” Logan slowly slid from his stool, feeling sore, like he’d finished a long workout. The skin on his legs felt stiff, and he knew he’d have to shower and do laundry when he got home. Despite Trey’s reassurance (and the delicious pie), the consequences of peeing his pants threatened to creep back over Logan. “Hey!” Trey said bracingly, reaching out to clasp Logan’s shoulder again. “You good? Do you need me to stay?” Logan raised his eyes to look at his earnest coworker. Trey really meant it; he could tell. And that was enough. It wouldn’t fix everything, of course. Logan still had a lot to face over the next few months, but it was enough for tonight. It was enough to assure him that Trey understood, that Trey didn’t blame him for his accident and wouldn’t tell anyone about it. It was enough to take just a tiny bit of the burden off of him, enough so that Logan could have the strength to make it home and clean up. Logan flashed the barest of smiles at Trey, and Trey nodded in response before heading back to the kitchen. Sighing, Logan walked back out to his car, exhausted but feeling steadier than he had in months. Maybe he wasn’t doing “so well.” But he was doing what he had to do.
  8. themerger

    malefemale Tights/Leg Warmer Wetting

    Version 1.0.0

    63 downloads

    Cold day, warm clothes, even warmer wetting! Heads-up: I do get very close to naked here. I was really just feeling myself and my body that day. I hope y'all find the time and the space to feel yourselves too

    Free

  9. The adorably beautiful Toby Springs & the sexy muscle god Tony Dinoz piss in their pants. Two VERY hot videos compiled into one. https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5dcdbc0c9e8e6 Also here: https://www.clips4sale.com/studio/33899/22280281/toby-and-tony-pee-combo-hd
  10. Jarvis Langley

    malefemale Exploding Lycanroc

    © Myself: https://www.furaffinity.net/gallery/punkrockvampire/

  11. Alex62

    Roommate Disaster

    Derek woke to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking. It was his favorite breakfast and his roommates, Kevin and Chris, were cooking it for his 20th birthday. Derek got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to eat his breakfast. On the way he passed the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He had short blond messy hair and was skinny. Girls may have thought he was attractive but he wished he was bigger. Looking at the toilet he realized he had to pee. He thought to himself “I can hold it while I eat” and walked on out to the kitchen. Once he got there breakfast just finished cooking and Kevin was putting it on a plate. Once Chris and Kevin saw him they broke out singing Happy Birthday. Derek expected this but he always hated it, He would much rather Chris and Kevin attack him or something. But he let them know that so so why wouldn’t they do that instead. After they finished they sat down to eat. Derek sat on the couch with his feet up. Derek enjoyed his meal with his favorite breakfast drink, OJ. The OJ was good but did not help his bladder. Once they finished eating Kevin went to get ready for his part time job and Chris went for a walk. Derek just sat there watching tv for awhile, he knew he should go to the bathroom but he didn’t. After a whole his need had increased rapidly and he decided he couldn’t wait. He got up and headed to the bathroom but of course the door was closed. Nick was taking a shower. Standing at the door Derek noticed his need was much worse then he thought, he barley could hold it. Derek pounded on the door yelling “KEVEN” But of course no answer. He leaned against the door crossing his legs and holding himself. Right then Chris came in and headed straight to his room. He came out 5mins later in only his green boxers. Derek have had a crush on Chris forever. He had short brown hair, wore glasses, and had an amazing tan. Just Derek’s type and seeing him in only his green boxers was a dream come true. He went and stood behind Derek grabbing himself as well. Derek looks at him and says “you have to pee really bad too”? Chris nodded bouncing from one foot to another. Derek was doing the same. After what seemed like hours Keven turned the water off. Hearing this Derek once again pounded on the door and yelled “open the door Chris and I are about to piss ourselves”! Keven opened the door to see both his roommates with there legs crossed and holding them self’s. As soon as the door opened Chris tried to push pass Derek but Derek pushed him back and said “wait your turn”! Chris replied “I can’t, I’m about to piss my pants”! “So am I!” Derek said as he walked into the bathroom. Chris tried to follow him but Derek pushed him out saying “wait your turn” and closing the door and locking it. Derek could feel hot piss leaking into his pants but since his shorts were black you couldn’t see any wetness. He got to the toilet and pulled down his pants and undies and legged the lid. As he released Chris heard and couldn’t take it anymore. His own bladder released. It started and a stream but quickly turned into a jet of hot piss soaking his green boxers and running down his legs foaming a huge pee puddle around his feet. Chris couldn’t believe what was happing but it felt so good he didn’t care. After he finished what happing dawned on him and he turned bright red in embarrassment. Right then the bathroom door opened reveling Derek. As Derek stood there staring, Chris started to cry. Looking at Chris Derek couldn’t help but to think he looked cute. Keven came out of his room to see what all the noise was. When he saw Chris he stopped in his tracks. Derek wrapped his arms around Chris who was still crying.
  12. Sapphire3619

    malefemale The Spirit of Christmas

    Happy holidays! I came up with a vaguely Christmas-related story; it is cheesy and corny and all other means of food-related adjectives :) Enjoy! ******************************* Grayson flinched at the loud knock on his bedroom door. “Get up!” Colonel Martin Buford, Grayson’s maternal grandfather, shouted through the door. “It’s almost time to go to church!” Without hesitating, Grayson leapt from his bed to get dressed. He knew by now that the Colonel didn’t tolerate dawdling. Grayson squirmed a bit as he pulled on his lone, black suit. He had to pee. Maybe, if he got dressed quickly enough, he’d have time to use the bathroom before they left for the Christmas Eve late-night service. It had been nearly 10 months since Grayson, now 16, had moved in with his grandparents, Martin and Regina. Grayson hadn’t been overly familiar with the Bufords, but his father wasn’t in the picture, so after his mother died, her parents became Grayson’s legal guardians. Grayson swallowed hard as he thought about his mom. Katrina Buford had raised Grayson on her own for his entire life. Her parents didn’t approve of their youngest daughter’s “lifestyle choices” (that is, getting pregnant out of wedlock) and, therefore, didn’t make much of an effort to be part of their youngest grandson’s life. Such seclusion from her parents didn’t seem to bother Katrina too much. She had a good job and good friends, and Grayson had been an easy baby who grew into a sweet, joyful young man. But just after Grayson’s 14th birthday, Katrina found a lump in her breast. She fought the disease for over a year and a half before slipping away on a cold March afternoon, holding Grayson’s hand. Grayson had been devastated, of course, but Katrina had worked hard to prepare him for life without her, and he was determined to make her proud. With his naturally cheerful and friendly disposition, he was sure he could work out living with his grandparents. It didn’t take long for Grayson to realize that cheer and friendliness were not valued traits in the Buford household. Martin, who insisted on being addressed as “Sir” or “Colonel,” had no patience for any kind of glee or revelry. He ran his household with ingrained, militaristic precision. Lateness, excessive noise, and any form of untidiness were not tolerated. The introduction of a teenage boy into Martin’s carefully controlled life was a wildly unwelcome intrusion. While Regina had learned long ago how to seamlessly adhere to the Colonel’s expectations, Grayson had no such lessons. Grayson had spent a few weeks trying to be helpful and pleasant, but the Colonel repeatedly rebuffed Grayson’s attempts at building a relationship. Soon enough, Grayson figured out that it was best to just remain unseen, and he started keeping to his room as much as possible. Now, dressed in the same suit he’d worn to his mother’s funeral (the Colonel insisted on their best clothes for Christmas services), Grayson opened the bedroom door and went downstairs. He could feel pangs coming from his bladder, and he prepared to ask the Colonel for permission to use the bathroom before they left. Martin and Regina were waiting at the foot of the stairs. The Colonel was, naturally, wearing his old yet immaculately-kept dress uniform. “You forget how to fasten buttons, boy?” Martin grumbled. Grayson flushed and looked down at his suit jacket. “No, sir.” “Then I don’t know what took you so damn long,” the Colonel huffed. “Get in the car.” Flinching, Grayson hung his head and trudged behind his grandfather. He wasn’t sure why they had to leave two hours before the service started, but he knew better than to argue. Grayson squirmed in the backseat of the car, trying not to make too much noise. Despite all his attempts to be functionally invisible over the past months, the Colonel had only grown angrier. It was as if Grayson’s mere existence infuriated him, and the initial grunt and orders had morphed into screams, belittlement, and the occasional smack. When they reached the church door, Grayson cleared his throat. “Sir?” he asked anxiously. “May I…may I use the restroom, please?” The Colonel’s eyes darkened. “We are in church, young man,” he declared darkly. “This is a place of prayer. You will join us in the pew, and you will pray. I suggest asking the Lord for forgiveness and asking Him for strength to grow into a true man of God.” Grayson could do nothing but nod. “Yes, sir,” he replied softly. The Colonel turned on his heel, and Grayson gloomily followed him to a pew near the altar. Grabbing Grayson’s arm, Martin steered the boy into the pew between himself and Regina, leaving no room for escape. Grayson bit his lip as he sat, clenching his thigh muscles slightly. The Colonel and Regina both bowed their heads in prayer. Grayson followed his example, but his only prayer was that he could make it the 3 hours until the end of the service without wetting himself. Over the next 2 hours, Grayson’s bladder slowly filled, and so did the church. The extended Buford family – Grayson’s aunts, uncles, and older cousins – filled the rest of the pew to his left. Though the Colonel didn’t exactly encourage familial closeness, he had long insisted on family attendance at church services. Most of his 4 older children and their children led their own lives, barely interacting with the Colonel, but they still showed up for late-night service on Christmas Eve. At the very end of the first pew sat Carl, Grayson’s oldest cousin, and his wife Tiffany. Despite his grandfather’s humorless example, Carl had attended West Point and entered the Army, eventually attaining the rank of Major General. He and Tiffany had no children of their own, but it still tugged at Carl’s heart to see Grayson shifting uncomfortably in the pew, sandwiched closely between Martin and Regina. Grayson really was trying not to squirm. Out of everything he did wrong (and it really seem like everything he did was wrong to the Colonel), public display of desperation had to be the worst. For some reason, any seemingly improper bathroom habits enraged Martin. A week after moving into the Buford’s well-kept home, Grayson had had a nightmare about his mother and ended up wetting the bed. Grayson shuddered at the memory, made all the more potent by the volume of urine currently straining his bladder. He had apologized, of course, and was already cleaning the mess himself, but the Colonel had been livid. It was the first time Martin had truly scream at Grayson, calling him every variation of weak and useless under the sun. Grayson had been crushed. He’d secretly hoped for – needed, really – someone to comfort him and tell him it was OK. Instead, the Colonel had shouted until his face turned purple, telling Grayson in no uncertain terms just how repulsive he found the boy. After that morning, the Colonel imposed strict bathroom rules. Though Grayson tried his best to control his bladder, making the most of the comparatively free restroom access at school, the rigid rules and schedule caused a few more accidents, both at night and during the day, each one leading to greater wrath from the Colonel. Now, sitting on the old, wooden pew, Grayson wanted nothing more than to avoid such a scene. He didn’t even want to think about irate the Colonel would be if Grayson lost control in church. After two long hours, the lights dimmed and the service began. Grayson could barely pay attention; his bladder ached, and it took all his focus to keep from holding himself openly. Though the Colonel gave every appearance of paying complete attention to the minister, he was keeping a close eye on his fidgeting grandson. Grayson’s eyes watered with effort as the service went on. Beads of sweat crept down his back, but he was determined to hold on. The minutes seemed like hours; he could feel small leaks seeping into his underwear, almost by osmosis through his desperately clenched thighs. Forty-five minutes into the service, the ushers handed out thin, white candles. The lights went out completely, and congregants gradually passed the flame along, slowly lighting each person’s candle. Grayson’s hand shook as he accepted the light from the Colonel, then turned to pass it to Regina. He could feel his bladder on the very brink of exploding. At the minister’s gesture, the congregation rose to their feet. Grayson inhaled sharply; he was certain he couldn’t withstand a change in position. From his own standing position, the Colonel poked Grayson sharply, glaring daggers, signaling his irrefutable order to the young man. Grayson bit his lower lip hard, trying unsuccessfully to stop it from trembling. The candle was flickering wildly in his hand. He clenched his thigh muscles painfully as he slowly rose to his feet, but it wasn’t enough. The combination of gravity and uncrossed legs was too much for his taxed bladder, and Grayson started to leak copiously. Tears filled his downcast eyes. He tried to squeeze his legs together, but he couldn’t stop a trickle from making its way down his leg. The Colonel stared daggers, the muscles in his jaw rippling with rage. Grayson tried with all his might to stay still and stand up straight, but the tiny stream of urine started to pool on the hard floor. The dancing points of candlelight reflected off the liquid. Eyes blazing, the Colonel snatched Grayson by the arm. With a speed and ferocity that belied his age, he dragged the shaking teen down the aisle of the church and out to the lobby. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Martin threw Grayson sideways. The young man stumbled, but kept his feet. “What the hell are you thinking, boy?” Martin hissed. Grayson tried to stand at attention, but couldn’t find his voice to answer. He’d managed to stop the flow of piss, but he knew it wasn’t for long. The Colonel took a menacing step toward the shivering boy. “I said,” he grumbled. “What the hell are you thinking?” Grayson opened his mouth to attempt an answer, but was stopped by the back of the Colonel’s hand flying across his face with a resounding crack. Gasping audibly, Grayson’s head was whipped aside with the force of the smack. Before he had time to recover, the Colonel grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him in close. “You think you can embarrass me in front of my church community?” Martin’s voice was all the more terrifying for its lack of volume. “You think you can besmirch the house of the Lord?” “N-no, sir…” Grayson whispered, but Martin wasn’t looking for an answer. “You pissed yourself like a damned infant!” Martin growled, spraying Grayson with saliva. “I’ve had it with you and your insubordinate delinquency!” With a grumble, the Colonel shoved Grayson violently against the wall. The impact momentarily stunned Grayson, who lost another leak down his leg. Martin didn’t notice, though; he had drawn back his hand, preparing to strike his grandson yet again. Grayson’s eyes widened in fear, but he didn’t move. Suddenly, a large hand wrapped firmly around the Colonel’s wrist. “That’s enough, Martin,” Carl’s voice was gravelly and firm. He kept a tight grip on his grandfather’s arm as he locked stares with the old man. “What do you think you’re doing?” Martin snarled. “This isn’t your business.” Carl stared back, radiating quiet rage. “You will not lay another hand on that boy.” “I am his legal guardian,” Martin snapped. “You are guilty of child abuse,” Carl seethed in response. “He’s not yours anymore.” Still shaking with fear and the effort of holding, Grayson gazed in awe at the stare-down between his grandfather and his cousin. “What are you going to do about it?” The Colonel was saying, his wrist still locked in Carl’s grip. “You can’t take him. I’ll stop you.” The barest of smiles flitted across Carl’s face. “You won’t, Colonel. I’m willing to fight for this kid, and you know you can’t physically beat me. And we both know that your claim won’t hold up in court against evidence of abuse. And," he added, a bit brutally, "I outrank you." Martin glared fiercely and grunted in reply. “Go back inside, old man,” Carl growled, finally releasing his hold on Martin’s arm. “We’re done here.” With one final harrumph, the Colonel turned on his heel and strode back through the lobby doors. Carl sighed in relief and turned back to his cousin. Grayson was still pressed against the wall, quivering. “Grayson?” Carl began gently. “Are you OK? Did he hurt you?” “No,” Grayson whispered, not meeting Carl’s eyes. The Colonel wouldn’t let him use the restroom, but maybe, just maybe, Carl would… “P-please, sir,” Grayson stammered softly. “May I-“ “Oh, Grayson,” Carl interrupted sadly. “You don’t have to call me sir. I know I’m in uniform, but I’m not like…” Carl’s voice trailed off at the sound of a defeated whimper from Grayson. “Kid?” It was too late. Grayson had held on too long, and the physical and emotional stress of the night was too much for him. Almost as soon as Carl started speaking, Grayson’s body gave out and he started wetting with abandon. Urine quickly soaked through his pants and fell to the ground, pooling on the tile floor with a soft yet humiliating patter. “Carl? Sweetie?” Tiffany’s voice sounded through the lobby. After seeing the Colonel return to their pew alone, Tiffany had slipped out to find her husband. She saw Carl standing in front of Grayson, who was crying silently. “Hey!” Tiffany breathed as she reached Carl’s side. “Grayson…” But she, too, trailed off as she recognized what was happening. “Oh, honey,” Tiffany murmured, utterly heartbroken at the sight of the sniffling teenager having an accident in front of her. Grayson wanted to sink through the wall and disappear. He was making a mess and breaking the rules, and after Carl had been so nice and stopped the Colonel from hitting him… Warm liquid continued to soak down both legs of Grayson’s ill-fitting suit pants. It briefly occurred to him that he should try to stop the flow, but his body simply wouldn’t respond, so he just kept wetting onto the floor. Tiffany clutched her husband’s hand, horrified at what she was seeing. Neither of them could imagine what terrors the Colonel had inflicted on the teen to lead to this point. The three stood in pained silence for over a minute until the faint trickling sound finally stopped. His accident was finished, but tears kept pouring down Grayson’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still not quite able to move. “I didn’t want to…” Carl and Tiffany exchanged a glance. “Grayson, honey,” Tiffany said gently. “Why don’t you go to the restroom and get cleaned up?” “I…”Grayson’s voice squeaked. “I don’t have any clean clothes,” he continued miserably. Tiffany drew in a long breath, thinking rapidly. “OK.” She turned to Carl. “Honey, can you go out to the car and get the blanket from the trunk? We don’t have any clothes for you to wear,” she explained to Grayson, “but we keep a big blanket in the trunk. You can wrap yourself in that.” Both Carl and Grayson nodded. Carl pulled the keys from his pocket and headed out to the parking lot; Grayson didn’t move. “Here, sweetie,” Tiffany lightly touched Grayson’s arm. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom, and you can clean up a bit while Carl gets the blanket? I’ll go back inside and grab our things from the pew.” She started toward the lobby doors, but was stopped by a plaintive mewl from Grayson. Turning back around, she saw Grayson’s lip trembling. “Honey?” For the first time, Grayson raised his eyes, looking pleadingly at Tiffany. In his gaze, Tiffany read all the confusion and fear of a young man who had lost all trust in adults, who had no one truly take care of him in far too long. “OK!” she soothed, reaching for her young cousin. “I’m not going anywhere.” She placed her hand on Grayson’s shoulder, guiding him toward the restroom. “I’m right here,” she murmured as they walked. “I’ll stay with you.” Grayson felt like he was crumbling from the inside. His eyes were filled with tears, but it was only with great effort that he kept from completely breaking down into devastated sobs. His head was in a fog; he knew Tiffany was talking, but her voice was little more than an unintelligible buzz. They reached the family restroom, and Tiffany opened the door. “You take off your wet things and I’ll hand the blanket through the door when Carl gets back,” she instructed calmly. Grayson nodded pathetically and closed the bathroom door behind him. Tiffany exhaled deeply, leaning against the wall. After a minute, Carl returned with the giant, fleece blanket from their car, along with a plastic bag. “Is he in there?” Carl inclined his head toward the bathroom, a bit needlessly. Tiffany nodded. “I was going to get our stuff from inside, but he didn’t seem to want me to leave him.” Taking the blanket from Carl, she knocked gently on the bathroom door. Grayson’s hand reached out to grab the fleece and bag. The door shut again, and Tiffany drew her eyebrows together. “Carl, what happened to this kid?” Carl shook his head slowly. “Before you came out, I stopped Martin from hitting him.” Tiffany winced sympathetically. “If he’s whaling on him in church, I can’t imagine what he does at home,” Carl continued sadly. He looked down at his wife beseechingly, but she was already on board. “Of course he can come home with us,” Tiffany agreed before Carl could ask. “I know we can’t let him spend another minute with the Colonel.” Carl let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, baby.” Nodding, Tiffany started planning the logistics. “He’ll sleep in the guest room, of course. You’re bigger than he is, but I’m sure we have enough sweats and t-shirts to tide him over until you can pick up his stuff from Martin and Regina’s.” Carl leaned down and kissed his wife’s forehead. “You’re the best!” At that moment, the bathroom door clicked open. Grayson slouched in the doorway, clutching the blanket around him with one hand and holding the plastic bag, now full of his soiled pants, in the other. “Grayson?” Carl cleared his throat. Grayson flinched, and Carl’s heart broke. “Are you ready to go?” Grayson’s shoulders slumped even more. He barely nodded and turned silently toward the doors leading back into the church. He couldn’t even imagine how the Colonel would react to him walking into church, pantsless, wrapped in a blanket, but Grayson didn’t know what a viable alternative would be. “Oh, honey, no!” Tiffany cried, reaching out to him. Grayson stopped, bowing his head in apologetic reflex. “You don’t have to go back inside,” Carl explained. “Not if you don’t want to. Tiff and I…you can come home with us.” Grayson raised his eyes, blinking in confusion. “We don’t…” Tiffany’s voice was thick with emotion. “We can’t send you back to Martin if we can help it. We have plenty of room at our place, and we’d love to have you.” Lip trembling, Grayson tried to make sense of what they were saying. He didn’t have to go back with the Colonel? He wasn’t getting in trouble? He didn’t know how it would work, and surely Carl and Tiffany wouldn’t be willing to keep a teenager until he went to college, but…even for tonight… “We want to make sure you’re safe,” Carl pleaded over Grayson’s silent contemplation. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything until now, but we’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, Grayson.” The word “please” shattered whatever was left of Grayson’s battered self-control. With a muted, broken sob, he took a step forward and crumpled into Tiffany’s waiting arms, weeping with relief and exhaustion. Tiffany held the shaking teen tightly, rubbing his back and whispering soothing words in his ear. Confident that the situation was under control, Carl quickly stole back into the church to grab his and Tiffany’s things. Coats in hand, Carl and Tiffany walked Grayson out to the parking lot, supporting him from either side. Thoroughly drained, Grayson could barely keep his eyes open. He all but collapsed in the back seat of Carl’s car, clutching the blanket around his half-naked form. Brushing a light dusting of snow off the windshield, Carl climbed in the driver’s seat. Tiffany squeezed his hand, reassuring him that they were making the right choice. As Carl pulled out of the church parking lot, he heard the bells in the tower start to chime midnight. It was Christmas Day.
  13. Yesterday I visited friends for lunch in a town just a couple of stops on the local underground. I returned home late afternoon and by the time I reached the station to get the train back I found the cups of tea had caught up with me despite having a "just in case" visit before I left. Whether it was the tea or the cold autumn chill I'm not sure. But by the time the train arrived my need had grown quite considerably. I was really uncomfortable and was quite worried. I'm one of those Omorashi devotees who loves everything about the fetish except the idea of doing it in public. Hearing of others troubles yes, but not mine. Selfish I know. It was literally a ten minute journey and as soon as we hit the platform I was out of the tube train doors and making haste for the toilets. Then disaster … a sign saying that due to "anti social behaviour and drug taking" the toilets had been closed. My heart sank and I feared I was about to do something anti-social myself! But I knew the café in the local park had toilets as I had used them in the past. I hurried up the road … it was just a few hundred yards. Then as I entered the park there was a terrible realisation …. where were all the tables and chairs! Then the second realisation. It had turned 4pm, the Winter timetable had come in and both the café and toilets had shut. There was an option to go behind a tree or find a bush but it wasn't that dark. The place is a route home for schoolchildren and I know that covert surveillance is in place to deal with the very behaviour the station was trying to address. I had no option but to endure the struggle of a 20 minute of a walk home. Because of bladder weakness I often wear a pull-up on long journeys but I hadn't wanted to that day because my friends might have noticed the bulge and in any case it wasn't that much of a trip. It wasn't long before I felt a spurt dampen my underpants and I was really apprehensive about losing complete control. I tried to quicken my pace but as fellow sufferers will know it is not that easy and can encourage further leaks. Despite my superhuman efforts to hold on more piss escaped as I entered my road and I could feel the legs of my jeans clinging to my thighs through wetness.. Just another few hundred yards. Please let me make it. I hoped my three quarter length coat would hide any embarrassment but as you will see from the pics my jeans were a very light blue! Luckily I made the front door without seeing any neighbours!
  14. Sapphire3619

    Chasing Courtney

    OK, I promised that my next story would involve male-male comfort, but I lied. I'm sorry ? This was a request from granger Danger, so I thought I'd throw something together. I do have other ideas though, so I hope to get something else out before summer ends! *** Chase Richards flipped his head back, running his fingers through his thick, russet hair. It wasn’t so much a calculated move as a habit he’d developed after learning that his friends (peers? Cronies?) seemed to interpret the gesture in whatever way they thought best. It kept him from having to say too much. Chase wasn’t very good with words. Luckily for Chase, he didn’t often need words. He had the height, build, and looks that gave him a golden ticket to the good graces of others. Most teachers - and certainly most of his classmates – never pressed him on much of anything. Not schoolwork, not his behavior, and not whether he really deserved the level of popularity he enjoyed as a senior in high school. Chase didn’t think about his unearned popularity too much. At 18, he had a set of mannerisms that served him well – introspection wasn’t required. So when emotions or challenges presented themselves, he didn’t have a whole lot of practice reacting. And Chase’s reactions tended towards nastiness. It wasn’t that he was mean. He certainly didn’t intend to be mean. It was more that he’d never really gotten the hang of social humor or teasing, so when he tried to joke, it came out jerk. He didn’t mean it. He just…didn’t know what else to do. Like today. Chase really didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well, he did know, if he bothered to think about it. It was actually fairly straightforward, and it started and ended with Courtney Montell. Courtney was a junior – only a junior, Chase tried to remind himself – but she was captivating. She was confident and articulate, and Chase was entranced. Courtney was the student council treasurer, and with Homecoming approaching, she’d been spending a lot of time working with the senior class members of the council, including Chase’s friend Marco. Chase hadn’t thought twice about Marco. He was the student council president, so it was natural that Courtney would be around him a lot. He hadn’t thought about it much, but Chase had implicitly assumed that Courtney’s relationship with Marco was all business. Besides, Chase wasn’t one to consider the possibility that another guy could be with a girl he himself had already mentally claimed. So really, it was just that Chase had been caught off guard after lunch when he’d turned a corner in the hallway and seen Courtney kissing Marco. Chase’s jaw slackened and his head felt fuzzy, seeing the girl he liked making out with one of his best friends. Before Chase had time to process anything, Marco had broken off the kiss and turned down another hallway, winking at Courtney as he left. Courtney spun around, grinning to herself, and came face to face with a stunned Chase (who, it turned out, had been standing much closer to the couple than he’d realized). Courtney blinked once before composing herself. “Can I help you?” “If you’re gonna be kissing guys in hallways, I’ll take one.” Chase could feel the sneer creep onto his face but had no control over the curl of his lip. Courtney didn’t even bother to roll her eyes, further irritating Chase with her lack of response. She took a step forward, but he rammed his hand against the wall in front of her, blocking her with his arm. Still, Courtney didn’t flinch, though her heart rate sped up. No matter how much she believed that Chase was all bluster, being physically blocked by a 6’3”, 225-pound man was never going to be a comfortable situation. “Move, Chase.” Chase’s stomach fluttered. He knew the situation wasn’t going well, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Why? You weren’t in any hurry a minute ago,” he said, his voice dangerously approaching a growl. “That’s how time works, asshole,” Courtney snapped. Her eyes glittered with challenge, but she was trying to keep her voice from shaking. Chase barely heard her. He wanted Courtney, and somehow, in his socially underdeveloped mind, he was convinced that he could still have her, if she would just… “Come on, Court,” he rumbled, circling his other arm around her until she was backed up against the wall. “There’s no one here-“ “Stop!” Courtney shrieked, slapping Chase squarely across the cheek. “Mr. Richards! Miss Montell!” Mrs. Harker, the physics teacher, strode down from the other end of the hallway. “Back away from each other now!” she ordered. Chase took two giant steps backwards, his arms dropping limply by his sides. His cheek stung, but he barely felt it through the utter daze of the past minute. Courtney was fuming. “Mrs. Harker, he-“ “Detention for both of you,” Mrs. Harker interrupted sharply. “We have zero tolerance for physical violence at this school.” Courtney opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs. Harker cut her off. “I’m sorry, Miss Montell,” she said, more gently. “Detention is the consequence for violence, no matter what the context.” Mrs. Harker turned back to look at Chase. “3:15, both of you. Mr. Green will be supervising detention this afternoon in room 113. No excuses.” Glaring once more at Chase, Courtney strode away. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period, and the hallway filled with students, none of whom had the slightest idea what had just happened. Which more or less covers all of the important events that led to the current situation – Chase Richards, instead of taking out his car keys to drive home, was sullenly dawdling in front of his locker, unconsciously delaying having to face Courtney again in detention. “Chase Richards!” Mr. Green, the new freshman English teacher and today’s detention supervisor, was the kind of first-year teacher who chose to be overly strict to counteract his youth and assert his authority over the students. “Room 113, now!” Chase pulled his backpack from his locker and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna-“ Mr. Green cut him off with a glare. “No, you’re not ‘just gonna’,” he said derisively. “You have detention, and you are subject to the same rules as everyone else.” The teacher glared at Chase, not quite achieving the level of command that he wanted. “No matter what most of the other teachers here might thing,” he added sharply. Chase’s eyebrows knit in bemusement. He knew Green was a hardass, but it was just detention, and it wasn’t like Chase was trying to get out of it – he just wanted to go to the bathroom. Chase always went to the bathroom right after school, before going out to his car. It was just another one of his habits. It wasn’t that he had to go really bad or anything, but being denied the access made him realize just how full his bladder was. All of these thoughts proceeded rather slowly through Chase’s head, and by the time it occurred to him to ask Mr. Green to use the restroom real quick, the teacher had already started walking down the hallway to the dedicated detention room. Chase took long strides to catch up, but by the time he did, Mr. Green had reached the door of Room 113. Chase followed him in and opened his mouth to ask for a quick trip to the bathroom but stopped short when he saw Courtney sitting in the desk closest to the door. Chase’s mouth snapped shut and his request died in his throat. He’d already screwed up with Courtney once today; he couldn’t bear to ask to us the restroom in front of her. Flustered and still full, Chase put his head down and slunk to the back of the room, taking the sat in the corner farthest from the door – and farthest from Courtney. The digital clocked flipped to 3:15 – apparently, no other students had been given detention that day. “No phones, no electronics,” ordered Mr. Green by way of a greeting. “You will be released at 4:15, not one second earlier. You don’t have to do homework if you don’t want to, but you may not talk.” Chase shifted in his seat. He’d never been given detention before. He supposed the rules made sense, but he really wasn’t sure he could wait for an hour, especially without his phone to distract him. Still, he managed for the first fifteen minutes. Sitting in the back of the room definitely helped – he didn’t have to worry about Courtney looking at him, and he could squirm a little to try to keep his bladder comfortable without having to worry about being seen. At 3:30, though, Chase heard the buzzing of a phone. To his surprise, Mr. Green picked up his phone off the desk and glanced at the screen. “Stay here,” Mr. Green ordered needlessly. He’d apparently determined that the call was worth taking and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The instant the door clicked shut, Courtney whirled around, glaring at Chase. He twitched under the intensity of her gaze; he had only been looking in that direction because of Mr. Green, but now it looked like he’d been staring at Courtney. She didn’t seem to care about Chase looking at her, though. “This is your fault,” she hissed, keeping her voice quiet but bitter. Chase’s face went blank. He knew that his interaction with Courtney hadn’t gone well, but she seemed…really mad. “You’re disgusting,” Courtney continued, her voice venomous. “You think you can just take whatever you want and never have any consequences.” Chase tensed reflexively. People just didn’t yell at him like that… “It was a joke,” he insisted dumbly, his attempt at levity coming out decidedly petulant. Courtney scoffed. “No woman in the world thinks that shit is funny.” Chase got a funny feeling in his stomach, beyond the fullness of his bladder. It was weird hearing a high school student refer to herself as a woman, but as soon as she said it, it made sense. She was a woman, and Chase felt like a little kid in front of her. A little kid who had to pee. Courtney seemed to sense his quailing. “Are we still in kindergarten, Chase?” she mocked. “You don’t know how to act around girls that you like, so you’re mean to them to get their attention?” Chase flushed red so quickly, his face was like a buzzer on a game show, lighting up to signal Courtney’s correct answer. She felt her own skin warm in response – confronting unreciprocated affection was never enjoyable. “Honestly, Chase –“ She was no longer snapping, but her voice still wasn’t friendly. “- it’s the 21st century. You don’t get to treat people – women - like shit and expect them to just be OK with it.” Chase was keeping his head very deliberately down at this point, both in embarrassment and because he was trying to curl over the desk. He felt so full, he was having a hard time keeping himself from squirming. As much as he didn’t want to have this conversation with Courtney (it was more of a monologue than a conversation, anyway), he really didn’t want her looking at him when he had to pee. Not one to skillfully manage unpleasant emotions, Chase reflexively settled into anger. “I don’t,” he grumbled. Courtney’s eyebrows drew together, projecting more incredulity than she actually felt. “You can’t possibly have so little self-awareness,” she derided. “You really do have the social skills of a five-year-old.” Blushing even more deeply, Chase scowled down at the desk. Being called a child twice in quick succession made his plight all the more painful. He flicked his eyes up at the clock and almost whined. There were still 40 minutes left in detention, and the combination of his full bladder and Courtney’s accusations made that 4-minute barrier seem impossibly long. The sound of the door opening made Chase look up. “No talking,” snapped Mr. Green before ducking back out into the hallway, phone still at his ear. Courtney had turned forward as soon as the door opened, but she threw another glare back at Chase before returning to her homework. Chase nearly sighed in relief. The deliberate lack of squirming over the past few minutes had heightened his need, and he had to thrust a hand between his legs to ease the desperation. He writhed and gripped for a few seconds to make himself feel better. A quick glance up at Courtney showed that she was diligently bent over her homework, paying him no mind. Exhaling slowly, Chase released he hand. The immediacy of the last surge had abated, but his heart was still beating hard. For a second, he thought of getting up and going to the bathroom, but that idea didn’t last long. For one, Mr. Green would almost certainly yell at him as soon as he stepped in the hallway. And he didn’t want to give Courtney another reason to scorn him. He’d just have to wait it out. Just over a half hour now, and as long as Courtney wasn’t looking at him, he could shift and wriggle freely. For the next 15 minutes or so, Chase did just that. He even crossed his long legs, which he hated doing, but the relief was too good to pass up. Unfortunately, even that tactic didn’t help for long. Chase’s body had been well trained to use the bathroom after school and being made to wait an hour to release and entire day’s worth of urine wasn’t something he was prepared for. Forced to physically hold himself again, Chase’s breathing became shallow. Unconsciously, he started shifting arrhythmically, twitching back and forth and kneading his dick between his legs. “Shh!” A sharp hiss from Courtney caught Chase off guard, and he felt a hot spurt of pee soak into his underwear. He looked up anxiously just in time to see Courtney turning back to her homework, a disgusted look on her face. Chase bit his lip to keep from whining audibly. He was clutching himself to the point of pain, but the dampness against his skin was breaking down his already-weak defenses. He remained curled over the desktop, tensing seemingly every single muscle in his body, trying to keep himself from having an accident through brute force. He couldn’t move to look at the clock, which was probably a good thing, because the clock would’ve told him that there were still 10 minutes left. And Chase didn’t have 10 minutes. Chase didn’t have 10 seconds. A painful surge rippled through Chase’s lower body, and a strong stream burst out of him, soaking right through his boxers and into his jeans. Chase grunted unwillingly, but his muscles were worn out and ill-prepared for such consistent tensing. Futilely, Chase kept his hand between his legs, but it was all over. He was wetting himself. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously, and Chase, if he’d been able to think or feel at all, would’ve felt like he was in a dream. The sensation of peeing into his jeans, while sitting at a desk, in a classroom, was so utterly foreign that the entire situation felt surreal to the point of unbelievability. Chase’s chest heaved with uneven breaths. Piss pooled briefly on the desk seat under him before spilling onto the floor. In the front of the classroom, Courtney was distracted by the unfamiliar sound. She whipped around to demand silence from Chase once again, but her face quickly melted from irritation into disbelief. Courtney was a smart girl, but it took her several seconds to puzzle together the scene in front of her. The sound she heard was the trickling of liquid from the seat of the desk onto the tile floor. Chase’s large body was hunched over the small desk; his shoulders rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths. A puddle was growing still growing across the floor underneath him. There was only one explanation for what she was seeing, but Courtney’s mind refused to accept the obvious. There was no way a senior in high school could be having an accident at school. Chase still didn’t look up. For once, he was completely unaware of Courtney, even as she cautiously stood and walked toward the back of the room. “Chase?” Chase jerked slightly, indicating that he heard her, but he kept his head forcefully down, as if he was trying to bore a hole into his sternum with his chin. Torn between pity and skepticism, Courtney lowered herself into the desk diagonally in front of Chase. She looked down to make her she wasn’t stepping in his puddle – it was big, but not quite spread in her direction. She looked back up at the cowering 18-year-old. The tension had melted out of his body, signaling that his accident was finished, but now, he was slumped so severely in his desk, Courtney wondered how he stayed in the desk at all. “Chase…” she repeated, not really knowing what she was trying to make happen. Awkward with words under the best of circumstances, Chase was rendered completely mute. His face remained down, and a single tear dripped off his cheek onto the desk. His throat strained with the effort of holding back actual sobs. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, Courtney unwilling to speak and Chase unable. The sound of the door opening shocked Courtney into turning around. Mr. Green was still on the phone, but he distractedly waved into the room. “You can go.” Courtney attempted a weak smile, but Mr. Green had already left, having not seen or not cared what had happened in the back of the classroom. Exhaling deeply, Courtney looked back at Chase, but he hadn’t moved. She straightened her shoulders. “Come on, Chase.” No response. “Mr. Green is gone. No one will see you.” Nothing. Courtney pressed her lips together. “Chase, come on. You can’t stay here forever.” Chase shifted uncomfortably, but still didn’t look up. God, thought Courtney. He really was a child, and she didn’t have a whole lot of patience for man-children. “What’s your plan, then? Just gonna stay here until morning? Or until the janitor gets here to clean up after you?” The last comment was a bit harsh, but Courtney wasn’t here to mother the boy who’d put her in detention in the first place. Instead of getting defensive, though, Chase raised his head slowly. His eyes were glazed with tears, and his face was completely guileless. Having an accident as a senior in high school was an objectively vulnerable situation to begin with, but Chase’s face underscored just how exposed he was. Sighing, Courtney dropped her shoulders. Yes, Chase was a child – he was self-centered and lacked self-awareness – but he was also clueless and seemingly unable to take care of himself in tough situations. Courtney mentally cursed all of the adults who had let Chase reach the age of 18 with so few life skills. She made a quick series of mental decisions. Chase had already dropped his gaze again, nervous and ashamed. “Get up, Chase,” Courtney ordered. “Grab your backpack. We’re leaving.” Chase looked up again, blinking in confusion. “You can’t stay here, and I don’t want to,” Courtney explained (even though this wasn’t really something that should require an explanation) “Get your keys, go home, and change.” Chase shuddered. Courtney’s words had drawn him back to reality, just enough to remind him that he was, in fact, 18 years old, and couldn’t just sit and wait for someone to take care of him like an infant. Even though he’d just peed his pants like one. He still couldn’t bear to look at Courtney for very long, but Chase slowly unfolded himself out of the desk. His jeans hung heavy between his legs, and he paused for a second, staring reluctantly at the puddle beneath the desk. “The janitor will clean it up,” Courtney promised, her voice softer than it had been all afternoon. “No one will know it was you.” In the great crush of emotions from the past hour, Chase had now settled on being disgusted with himself. He scowled as he grabbed his backpack, still keeping his gaze averted from Courtney as he trudged to the front of the room. Courtney, supposing that movement was better than nothing, followed. At the door, Chase stuck his head out in the hallway, checking to make sure no one was around to see the obvious evidence of his accident. Seeing that the coast was clear, he took a deep breath and prepared to head out to his car. Before he took a step, he hesitated. “Thank you,” he mumbled back over his shoulder, his voice gruff and strained. He didn’t wait for Courtney’s response. He couldn’t stand her revulsion or her pity, though he knew he deserved both. Later tonight, perhaps, he’d have time to actually think about the terrible events of the day – the hallway, detention, and actually peeing on himself in front of the girl he liked - and the truth behind Courtney’s chastisement. But for now, he just had to get home and take a shower.
  15. Well why not try both now~ so i'm holding my morning pee until 1 PM and release it all, and feel an urge to poop, so, i just let it go~ DOWNLOAD THE VIDEO BELOW 226829.t.mp4
  16. This was a request from KarenGranger, which I tried to get done in exactly one month, but I've now barely missed (in my time zone). Bummer Thanks for reading! *** “TJ, move that sawhorse over here.” “Yes, sir.” TJ Masters easily hoisted the frame – you never drag it – and set it where his dad had indicated. Tony Masters was an extremely diligent builder and craftsman; it was why he was one of the most sought-after contractors in their town. More specifically, by the type of people on the east side of town who could afford to add extra wings to their already-enormous houses. TJ had been working for his father for as long as he could remember – stirring paint and washing paintbrushes as a child, sorting tools and accessories in elementary school, and now, joining his dad at work sites, a position he’d earned by precision, hard work, and virtually never making mistakes. Needless to say, TJ and Tony didn’t live in the same neighborhood as the people they worked for. Tony kept his margins low, but he almost always only worked one job at a time, so, despite his wealthy clientele, he wasn’t exactly pulling in seven figures himself. So one of the most important rules on worksites for TJ was to keep his mouth shut. He was there as a worker; he kept his head down, completed the list of tasks for the day, cleaned up after himself, and left, taking care not leave any boot prints on the property. TJ didn’t really mind. He liked the work, and he wasn’t much of an extrovert, anyway, so when they did end up working at one of his classmate’s houses, it was neither awkward nor distracting. Until today. TJ never knew where they’d be going when they started a new job; he never needed to. He’d just get in the truck with his dad and start work when they got to the house. Today, they pulled onto the grounds of a newer house on the edge of town. Tony parked the car around back and explained that they’d be renovating the pool house. TJ hopped out and started unloading the truck, barely paying attention to the giant house or its inhabitants. On his third and final trip out to the truck, TJ caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he could stop himself, he looked. And nearly dropped the armful of lumber he was carrying. Strolling out of the back door was Robbie diSantos. Robbie – TJ didn’t even know what his full name was – had just started at TJ’s high school at the beginning of their senior year a couple of weeks ago, and TJ had been instantly smitten. TJ didn’t exactly have an expansive vocabulary, but even if he did, the first word he would use to describe Robbie was cool. Robbie just made everything look so effortless. The clothes he wore were cooler than anything TJ owned, but not in a pretentious way. His hair fell perfectly, but it didn’t even look like he used any product. He was the kind of person who seemed like he didn’t care about any of the everyday drama of high school, and he was all the more impressive for it. Robbie was carrying a book and a glass of something. He settled himself into a pool chair and slipped in his earbuds, apparently not even noticing the Masters. “TJ! Grab that band saw!” TJ blinked and stumbled into motion, ashamed of his juvenile, doe-eyed daze. He doubled back to pick up the band saw and ducked into the pool house, forcing himself to avoid the windows, so as not to keep peeking out toward the pool chairs. So now, TJ had spent the past 3 hours measuring, sanding, and cutting lumber. He’d been working long enough that his dad now trusted him with entire projects, rather than giving one instruction at a time. In this case. He was adding a wall the pool house to partition off a small closet, which he would then fill with shelves. It was simple work, but required precision, and TJ knew that Tony expected the closet to be finished by the end of the day. Focusing on the work helped TJ keep his mind off Robbie for the most part. But every so often, when he turned the saw off or moved newly cut two-by-fours from the table, he’d find himself glancing out the window, semi-consciously hoping to catch a glimpse of his classmate. As noon approached, Tony signaled to TJ that it was time for a break. TJ finished his current task, took of his noise-cancelling headphones, and grabbed a sandwich and bottle of water from the cooler. “Grable’s called, and our stone shipment came in earlier than expected,” Tony said without preamble, between bites of sandwich. “I’m gonna head over there and pick out what we need for the walkway and patio.” “Yes, sir,” TJ replied, already knowing what the next orders would be. “By the time I get to Grable’s, look over the product, load it, I won’t have time to get back here and do anything -” The quarry was an hour and a half away “- so Roy’s on his way to get me. I’ll take the trailer to Grable’s and leave the truck here with you. You finish the closet, clean up, and meet me back at home.” “Yes, sir.” TJ nodded. On one hand, he was oddly honored that his dad trusted him enough to leave him alone at a job site on the first day. On the other hand, did his dad have to abandon him at this particular job? Not that TJ would ever argue with his dad at work. They were there to be efficient and professional, not to engage in family spats. So TJ simply finished his lunch, brushed off his jeans, and went back to work. Tony passed over the keys to the truck before he left, but otherwise, didn’t offer any further instructions. TJ kept working, keeping his headphones on to protect from the noise of the saw. The work and the blazing sun outside warmed the unfinished pool house. Barely even thinking, TJ grabbed another water bottle from the cooler and downed it in between cuts. He’d been working for about another hour – the frame of the wall was in place, now he just had to hang the drywall and shelves – when he felt the first signals of fullness from his bladder. It was just enough to make him aware, but not enough to make him worry. The drywall and the shelves wouldn’t take long. He t grabbed the drywall sheets propped against the wall, then nearly dropped them when he turned back to the table. “Hey.” Robbie stood in the doorway, holding a bottle of Powerade. He looked completely unperturbed, as usual, and TJ scrambled to match Robbie’s level of aloofness. He set down the drywall and pulled down his headphones. “Hey,” he replied, praying his voice wasn’t shaking as much as it felt like it was, “what can I do for you?” The corner of Robbie’s mouth quirked up. “Besides the literal work that you’re already doing?” he teased. “Nah, man, I just know how hot it is out here, so I thought I’d bring you some electrolytes.” “Oh!” Instead of gratitude, TJ only felt stupid for not realizing that the drink was meant for him. “Thanks. Thanks, man. That was really nice.” Robbie grinned, keeping eye contact long enough to make TJ’s stomach flutter as he handed over the chilled bottle. “Just shout if you want more. It’s nasty out today.” Compelled by both a desire to show gratitude and a genuine need for more hydration, TJ had already unscrewed the cap and was taking a gulp. He swallowed quickly and attempted a smile, knowing full well he’d never take Robbie up on his offer. TJ downed the entire Powerade before he even knew it. The near-icy drink felt amazing on the hot day, and drinking it so quickly prevented TJ from relishing the fact that Robbie had technically given him a gift. Mostly. The sugar from the drink provided a nice burst of energy while TJ hung the drywall. It was simple work, but time-consuming, as TJ carefully made sure that all the corners aligned perfectly. Safety first, his dad always said, emphasizing quality construction, but aesthetics are a close second. Reaching up to secure the top of the wall, TJ felt an urge from his bladder. He grunted involuntarily and pressed his thighs together. Stupid! he mentally chastised himself. He knew the rules – you don’t leave before the work is done, no matter what. Drinking the extra water bottle and the Powerade had been a terrible decision. TJ grimaced as he stood in front of the closet, quickly assessing how much work he had left to do. The drywall was finished, so he just had to cut and hang the shelves inside. He had all the specs, and since all the shelves were identical, he wouldn’t have to worry about setting up different measurements. “Hey!” The greeting from the window (well, the hole in the wall where the new window would soon be installed) was overly loud, considering TJ didn’t actually have his headphones on at the second. He jumped, then awkwardly tried to disguise the movement by turning to find Robbie smiling at him. “How’s it going?” Robbie asked casually. He looked around at the alterations to the room. “It looks good!” TJ smiled shyly, but only for a second. Sensations from his bladder nagged him, and he hoped his face wasn’t too noticeably red. Well, beyond the existing redness from the heat and the work. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I should be done in about an hour, so you won’t have to deal with the noise too much longer.” “Take your time.” Robbie winked, and this time, TJ was sure his blush was visible. Robbie had walked away, but TJ’s face heated up even more as dozens of thoughts careened around his head – Robbie was flirting with him, he must look like a mess, he had to pee, but he couldn’t until he finished the job… Clenching his jaw, TJ returned to the work table. His nerves were firing overtime, which was not helping his current situation. Just finish the job. Snatching the pressboard with far more force than necessary, TJ mentally scolded himself. He couldn’t let his own poor choices impact the quality of his work – his dad’s work. TJ took a deep breath and clenched his abdominal muscles. Not trusting himself with the band saw just yet, he decided to hang the brackets in the closet. That way, as soon as he had the shelves cut, he could place them, clean up, and leave. Measuring, even though he knew exactly where the studs are, TJ braced himself before each precise shot of the nail gun. The power of the tool still jarred his entire body, but he managed to hang all the brackets without losing control. Allowing himself a brief smile, TJ returned to the saw. All he had to do was cut the pressboard and place the shelves, and he was done! (And clean up, but he wasn’t planning on that taking that long) TJ grabbed the first board, measured, marked, then measured again. He continued the process until the shape of all 4 shelves was precisely delineated. He took a deep breath, positioned his safety goggles, and turned on the band saw. And immediately turned it off again. TJ let out a low groan and bent forward. The vibrations from the saw had caught him off guard, and he’d lost a quick, hot leak. He had to stop and cross his legs to help control the pressure, and he reflexively glanced toward the window to make sure Robbie wasn’t watching. He wasn’t, not that it made TJ feel much better. The immediacy of the desperation passed after a few moments, but TJ felt his heart beating in his throat. He stared plaintively at the saw, as if begging it to go easy on him. Taking a deep breath, TJ straightened up slowly. He squeezed his thighs tightly together, then grabbed the first piece of pressboard and turned on the saw. TJ clenched his jaw so tightly, he thought he might crack a tooth. He could practically feel the liquid vibrating in his overfilled bladder, but he kept his focus trained on the saw, never wavering in the straight lines he was cutting. Unconsciously holding his breath, TJ finished the last cut, ending up with 4 perfectly identical shelves. He gratefully turned off the saw, but the sudden cease in vibrations shocked him into leaking again. The teen whined softly and shoved his hand between his legs. He couldn’t even think about the actual process of getting to a bathroom; he just had to finish this job without making a mess. And without Robbie seeing. TJ pressed tightly through his jeans, his breath hitching. He really shouldn’t have drunk that Powerade. The thought of the Powerade made TJ look sharply over at the window. Thankfully, Robbie was still nowhere in sight. TJ knew he didn’t have much time, so he gave his crotch another squeeze, then stood up and grabbed the stacked boards. He slid the top shelf in, careful not the scratch the wall. The second and third shelves were placed easily enough, but TJ was tall enough that the last shelf required him to bend down. He did. But then he couldn’t get back up. Even the slight bend necessary to help his long arms reach the bottom brackets put too much pressure on TJ’s bladder, and he felt another forceful leak soak into his underwear. He shakily placed the last shelf, then shoved both of his hands between his legs, clenching as tightly as he could. His jeans were awkwardly bunched in his hands, and he didn’t have as comforting of a grip as he wanted, but he couldn’t let go. Tears sprung in TJ’s eyes. He tried to force himself to think of the work he still had to do, but any task-related thoughts were immediately crowded out by the simple biological fact that he couldn’t do anything else right now. He just had to pee. His only remaining clear thought was that he couldn’t have an accident in the pool house. Half-blind with desperation and tears, TJ stumbled out the side door, hands between his legs, and around the side of the building. He barely made it around the corner before he totally lost control. TJ whimpered as he started to actually wet himself, urine pouring over his hands and down both his thighs. His jeans darkened rapidly, and he could hear the splattering of his accident on the dirt below. TJ fought to catch his breath. The relief was spectacular, but not nearly as overwhelming as the shame. He couldn’t…he didn’t… Pressing his lips together, TJ tried to force himself to stay quiet. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but his current cycle of humiliation and self-contempt was forcing sobs against the back of his throat. Seconds or minutes or hours later, he was finally empty. Shaking, TJ stood up straight and wiped his hands against the remaining dry material on the back of his jeans. He sniffled and dragged the back of his hand under his nose, but made no move to return inside. Chest heaving, TJ tried to string together a plan. He still had to clean up inside, but if he did that quickly, then drove right home, he could still make it before his dad got there, and- “Hey!” TJ’s heart stopped. No no no… “I wanted to see if y-“ TJ was facing away, so he didn’t yet see Robbie’s face, but it was pretty obvious what had happened. The sobs he’d been holding back seemed to intensify, ripping at his voice box. “Hey,” Robbie repeated, his voice impossibly gentle, “Are you…can I…” TJ desperately wanted to respond, to somehow assure Robbie that it was fine and that he’d just finish cleaning and be on his way, but he couldn’t open his mouth without crying. Instead, he tried to breathe deeply, calming himself enough to do literally anything other than just stand there silently in piss-soaked jeans. Still out of TJ’s line of vision, Robbie inhaled audibly. “I’ll leave if you want me to, man, but can you just tell me if you need help? Like, do you need me to get anyone? Call anyone?” Grateful for the yes-or-no question, TJ shook his head. Robbie’s gentle, non-judgmental offer was calming, and TJ was able to breathe more easily. After another few silent seconds, he was able to speak. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and scratchy. “The closet is finished, so I’ll just clean up inside, and then we’ll be back tomorrow to-“ “Are you kidding me?!” Robbie sounded so affronted that TJ finally looked up. Sure enough, Robbie looked utterly baffled by what TJ though was a pretty simple statement. “You…” Robbie was all but sputtering, and TJ couldn’t figure out what had him so worked up. “You don’t have to do anything else! Just…why would you think you have to keep working??” TJ frowned slightly. “I haven’t cleaned up yet. I haven’t finished. I have to finish the job for today.” Robbie glanced down at TJ’s dark, sopping jeans, and TJ felt his entire face heat up. “TJ, it’s…it’s fine, man,” Robbie insisted. “You’re coming back tomorrow, just leave it.” TJ shook his head and looked down again. “My dad…” He stopped, not wanting to make it sound like his dad was overly demanding. He wasn’t, it was just… “I have a job to do.” TJ glanced back up to see some of the indignity melt off of Robbie’s face. “You do you, man,” Robbie said, sounding a bit sad. “I know you and your dad do great work, and I don’t want to make it seem like I’m telling you how to do your job. But seriously –“ Robbie stared at TJ earnestly, and TJ had to look away, still intensely aware that he was standing in a puddle of his own urine. “- the bathroom is just off to the right through the back sliding door. I’m sorry no one told you where it was before.” TJ was already shaking his head before Robbie finished, leaving the other teen bewildered. “Oh, no,” TJ murmured. “We don’t use client bathrooms. We don’t enter any space unless we’re working in it.” He said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was explaining the First Amendment to someone who had never heard of the United States. Robbie’s eyes darkened, and TJ nearly recoiled from this unexpected show of emotion. Robbie was so chill, so relaxed – what had TJ done wrong? “What kind of classist, regressive, The Help bullshit is that?” Robbie spat. “Did you…did someone tell you that? Like, is it literally a rule around here?” “We…” Now TJ really felt awful. He’d wet his pants like a child, he still hadn’t finished his tasks for today, and now, he’d somehow made the coolest, most attractive boy in the whole school mad at him. “We just…my dad always said that we don’t want to track in dirt or dust or anything. We want to respect the clients’ homes. It’s…we don’t want to…” TJ’s face flamed again as he trailed off and stared back at the ground. The rest of the rule was “We don’t want to make any unnecessary mess,” but TJ had clearly broken that statute. Robbie sighed, his feature softening again. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to yell.” TJ glanced up and found Robbie looking at him sincerely. “You and your dad can work however you want,” Robbie swore, “but I…I promise, my family and I, we don’t care about dirt or shit like that. And definitely not over…over your well-being.” TJ averted his eyes, blinking rapidly. “I…” Robbie’s voice was softer than ever. “I just wanted you to know that.” Eyes shining, TJ dared to lift his gaze, but didn’t say anything. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” TJ shook his head and managed a weak smile. “Like I said, I’ll just clean up inside. We’ll be back tomorrow to work on the walkway and patio.” Robbie smiled, gently, encouragingly. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He inhaled, as if he was going to say something else, but then just ducked his head and turned away. TJ let out a long breath. His mind was already moving ahead to the clean-up job, the drive home, and the long shower he was going to take. But somehow, the horror of the afternoon wasn’t quite as suffocating as it had been ten minutes ago. He whispered, even though Robbie had already walked away. “See you tomorrow.”
  17. Jarvis Langley

    malefemale Desperate Smeargle

  18. I really had to go while watching breaking bad. Just didn't want to get up so leaked a few times and just decided to let go. The video is too large to add here but let me know if you wanna see it. Don't have a way to compress on my phone at the moment.
  19. OMG that was orgasmic. I've never burst like that. I legit reached a point where I couldn't hold it and was just wetting uncontrollably! Too large to upload here but I'll post some screenshots, posting the VK link for your enjoyment https://vk.com/id335842433?w=wall335842433_167%2Fall Story time. First thing, Think anyone could tell I was wearing a diaper? My friend didn't seem to notice. Wore a long shirt and made sure not to bend lol. But I was soooo paranoid of the crinkle! So yesterday I wet the bed legitmatly which is like a needle in a haystack for me, I tried the https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UxfWFpIvXlE video and it actually worked (third time not the first two). Sadly I woke up right at the end of stream or not long after because I was still warm, I was soooo turned on, had some fun But wish I could sleep through it since its hard to sleep in clammy sheets once the warm bliss goes away. Shout out to @nerdy princess gave me the idea (and thanks a billion for the encouragement and motivation to keep holding) for rapid desperation with her own tantalizing story from Sunday night. I love the idea of no control, it's one of my biggest triggers with this fetish, probably why I like bedwettings so much. But I usually just watch and have only done a regular hold once. I hate it because it can take me 8-12 hrs due/to mental roadblock even while well hydrated lol. I was skeptical about rapid desperation actually working but the method I used was at 4:20 (best time and date ;)) I started drinking 17 oz of water every 15 min like clockwork until 7:30 to leave for Zombieland at 7:45. I wore a diaper to pee every time I felt the slightest urge, even made a Walgreens run where I was scared I might leak because it started turning into actual wettings lol. It got even trickier when my friend Jon came over to join for the movie and knows nothing about this fetish. Thankfully he distracted himself with the new COD lol. Come 7:30 I pee one last time, chug a bai water, and put on a new diaper (the old was nearing capacity.) Skeptical I'd actually need to burst within 2ish hrs, yet when I got in the car I felt around a 3 instantly, and I'd just emptied my bladder. To quote Star Wars that was the I got a bad feeling about this moment... Finally to our seats, no drinks for me I'm already a bloated water balloon, I feel enough pressure that if it was normal I would have peed. 30 min into the movie I'm positively squirmy, yet I was with my friend and it was a sold out night (surprised me) I couldn't be super desperate, and I couldn't risk a leak even with black jeans. Nerdy Princess kept motivating me and refusing me leaks. By the last 30 minutes I really couldn't focus on the movie, a couple of times I even accidentally grabbed my diapered crotch and let go fast before someone noticed. By the last 15 min I leaked and had to force a clamp down. Finally the movie ends and fuck the post credit scene I had to make it home, standing up I felt such an enormous pressure I was sure I might wet myself, I had to pause and compose myself. My friend of course went to the bathroom like a muggle and I went to the car so I wouldn't be pee dancing in public. He was my ride so I made an excuse that I had to be up early so he could just drop me off because fuck I had to pee and couldn't hold a convo! I wanted to get back in blue boxers and grey trackpants for the video. Turns out he left his keys in my room so fuckkkk I had to wait some more. After goodbyes where he could probably tell I was frantic, he's walking down the stairs and I start leaking uncontrollably!! I'm like shit no I wanted a video!! I bend and squirm and grab my crotch and sit and do everything and finally stop peeing, but if id been in clothes that by itself probably would have looked like a wetting to most lol. I barely manage to press play on my laptop as I'm pulling up my boxers and sadly am not able to manage much teasing, squirming, and dancing for the viewer but fuckkk that release!! That warm golden bliss. I'd never peed so much lol. I had some me time and felt like this was worthy of an in depth write up. Put my degrees to use lol. Let me know what you guys think! I'm leaning to hold again, I honestly feel the urge already lol. Man what a rush to knock off a bucket list! @PrincessPeeach, @rachelkirwan I know you'll love this first of mine :) I think what I like most about this fetish is it more than anything has helped me fall in love with my body thanks to you guys encouragement. I feel sexy, and not like the 300 lb person I used to be. Thanks for that. Hopefully I find my omosoulmate one day! #HopelessRomantic #RapidDeseperation #Wetting #Public #diaper
  20. Since drawing omo is the only thing I feel inspired to draw recently, I'll be posting my artwork here. Feel free to share your thoughts.
  21. I need to build up my galery and practice if I ever want to do comissions, so this is your oportunity to get some freebies! I do digital : and traditional: so specify what you want in your request! I don't draw: *scat/messing *gore *mecha ( I am not very good with furries tho) I'll try to do one or two a day but pleade be patient.
  22. I got all cold so I put on different clothes on a very soaked bed. So kept trying different wetting clothes to see which I liked best. Diapers are fun trapping the warmth, but I love the soak flow over your body and the wet patch and glisten and stain and the telltale wetbum saying you had an accident like a little 4 year old! Now found my new favorite wetting clothes. Hardly shows the wetting except in the moment but feels soooo good the way the warmth traps against you.The way you feel it creeping down your sides, your bum, the shimmer and glisten hitting all the right omo buttons. Maybe I could wet in public with this lol. I'm already wet so laundry can wait for tomorrow right? https://vk.com/id335842433?w=wall335842433_169%2Fall Movie on 11-9-19 at 12.28 AM #2.mov
  23. It was a cloudless afternoon, as Yukon shivered at the bus stop. He adjusted his facemask with his three-fingered hand, making sure his nose wasn't crooked. Yellow irises hid behind green contact lenses. Annoyed with the weather, he fidgeted with his trench coat, and glanced at his watch. Five minutes late. Grumbling, he scanned his environment; a tall city surrounded the nearly seven foot “man”. “Moderately intelligent,” he thought to himself, now glancing at the stoic city citizens, “Though on my planet, out buses aren’t late.” As soon as he thought of it, a bus started to shake and stop. It opened its doors with a loud clang. Stepping inside, and giving money to the driver, he instantaneously encountered a problem. Nearly every seat was full. However, that wasn’t the main issue. The thing was, the bus was full of furries. Every last human was in costume. He fearfully tucked in his lips, as he started shambling to the last open seat. His brain churned with why there were so many of them. Getting situated in his seat, he felt the bus chug and grind down the street. He was about to ask his seatmate why he was there, when he noticed something odd. While everyone else was sitting still, the person to the left of him was wiggling. Assuming that the human was a male, he crossed his legs, and stuck his hands in his groin. Small grunts of effort could be heard periodically. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans, and donned a skull head that had black fur. A black bookbag attempted to make a wall between them. Scratching the side of his face, he asked, “Need any assistance?” “If you have a water bottle, that’d be nice,” he joked. Unfortunately, understanding jokes was not something that Yukon did. “I do not have those. My apologies,” he explained. Putting his hands on the seats, he stated, “No, no, you’re cool.” A sense silence rose between the wiggling furry, and the giant “man”. Feeling he didn’t make a great first impression, he stuck out his hand for the other to shake, human-style. “Hello!” he greeted. “My name is Yukon. What’s yours?” “What happened to your hand?” Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “What do you mean?” he asked attempting to root out the nervousness in his voice. The skull-human showed him his own hand, which had five, long, skinny fingers. “Ah. Well, um,” he muttered, trying to find an excuse, “I had an accident.” With a chuckle, he stated jokingly, “I’m about to have one right now.” As soon as he said that, he realized that it wasn’t funny at all, and only made the atmosphere worse. Sulking, the furry stared out the window, wiggling his hips. Yukon wondered what he meant by accident. “You didn’t tell me your name,” he stated, trying not to sound like a predator. “Oh,” he quietly spoke, “Erin.” A silence yet again drifted between them. Hoping he wasn’t too annoying, Yukon asked, “Why are you wiggling so much?” Trying to hide his annoyance, Erin responded, “Well, I live in the country out East, so I’ve never been to a big city. I’ve been on this damn bus for… Err, what time is it?” “Nine o’ clock,” he reported. “Four fucking hours!” he hissed. Gripping himself, he groaned, “I’m going to explode.” “Explode?!” Yukon thought, eyes wide open. It was a cloudless afternoon, as Yukon shivered at the bus stop. He adjusted his facemask with his three-fingered hand, making sure his nose wasn't crooked. Yellow irises hid behind green contact lenses. Annoyed with the weather, he fidgeted with his trench coat, and glanced at his watch. Five minutes late. Grumbling, he scanned his environment; a tall city surrounded the nearly seven foot “man”. “Moderately intelligent,” he thought to himself, now glancing at the stoic city citizens, “Though on my planet, out buses aren’t late.” As soon as he thought of it, a bus started to shake and stop. It opened its doors with a loud clang. Stepping inside, and giving money to the driver, he instantaneously encountered a problem. Nearly every seat was full. However, that wasn’t the main issue. The thing was, the bus was full of furries. Every last human was in costume. He fearfully tucked in his lips, as he started shambling to the last open seat. His brain churned with why there were so many of them. Getting situated in his seat, he felt the bus chug and grind down the street. He was about to ask his seatmate why he was there, when he noticed something odd. While everyone else was sitting still, the person to the left of him was wiggling. Assuming that the human was a male, he crossed his legs, and stuck his hands in his groin. Small grunts of effort could be heard periodically. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans, and donned a skull head that had black fur. A black bookbag attempted to make a wall between them. Scratching the side of his face, he asked, “Need any assistance?” “If you have a water bottle, that’d be nice,” he joked. Unfortunately, understanding jokes was not something that Yukon did. “I do not have those. My apologies,” he explained. Putting his hands on the seats, he stated, “No, no, you’re cool.” A sense silence rose between the wiggling furry, and the giant “man”. Feeling he didn’t make a great first impression, he stuck out his hand for the other to shake, human-style. “Hello!” he greeted. “My name is Yukon. What’s yours?” “What happened to your hand?” Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “What do you mean?” he asked attempting to root out the nervousness in his voice. The skull-human showed him his own hand, which had five, long, skinny fingers. “Ah. Well, um,” he muttered, trying to find an excuse, “I had an accident.” With a chuckle, he stated jokingly, “I’m about to have one right now.” As soon as he said that, he realized that it wasn’t funny at all, and only made the atmosphere worse. Sulking, the furry stared out the window, wiggling his hips. Yukon wondered what he meant by accident. “You didn’t tell me your name,” he stated, trying not to sound like a predator. “Oh,” he quietly spoke, “Erin.” A silence yet again drifted between them. Hoping he wasn’t too annoying, Yukon asked, “Why are you wiggling so much?” Trying to hide his annoyance, Erin responded, “Well, I live in the country out East, so I’ve never been to a big city. I’ve been on this damn bus for… Err, what time is it?” “Nine o’ clock,” he reported. “Four fucking hours!” he hissed. Gripping himself, he groaned, “I’m going to explode.” “Explode?!” Yukon thought, eyes wide open. Posting the rest later B)