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  1. From the album: Divinations of Oasis

    Introducing one of my OCs (and Sylvie’s Girlfriend), Rosella Arbitri! An exiled dragongirl hero! She has a high tolerance to alcohol, leading to heavy drinking every night and an equally heavy bladder.~ But she’s too prideful to ever admit she needs to go, so she’ll just hold for as long as possible! But Sylvie knows those many liters of pee have to coke out eventually, and she plans to push Rosella to the very limit! (Rosella’s armor is missing the plate around her stomach because of a metal shortage, totally not because I wanted her bladder bulge to be on full display)
  2. Hello everyone! I'm back with another alternate perspective from existing stories on Omoorg (these are turning out to be surprisingly fun!). After reading @BartleyZumboza's story Tales from a Country Where Women don't Pee (Link below), I thought it would be interesting to create another perspective of another character that lives in this island nation as the premise of the original story was really interesting and I wanted to expand on it (With the author's endorsement, of course.)! In case you haven't read the original, I highly advise you do so as it has important context to this story, as I would almost consider this story like a "fan sequel". Also the original is super cool so you should read it anyway! I hope to collaborate more with Bartlet in the future! Without further ado! Here are More Tales from a Country where Women Don't Pee! Word Count: 5,801 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hello everyone! I have been a long-time lurker on this site but have finally decided to come out of hiding. This is in part due to Kanu’s explanation and stories of our small island of the Kingdom of Jalabhumi. Seeing such a positive reaction to our small island nation inspired me to write about some of my own experiences of our small island nation and it’s intricacies. I will be forgoing my name as well as the names of my friends and family to protect our identities as, well, we are a small nation. I wouldn’t want to expose my fiancé or my friends and family members as it wouldn’t be the most difficult thing in the world to find out who we are and where we live (For example, Kanu, if you’re reading this, I know exactly what hotel you work at and your wife’s name has been dropped from time to time, as she is becoming a local celebrity, but I digress… :P). For those unaware, the people of our island practice a unique religion where our women act as our protectors against nature and invaders, by forgoing uses of the restroom to hold at their maximum capacities. Their service is to our goddess, Anakketta, helping her keep her liquids at bay by retaining as much of theirs. It’s a very spiritual and developed religion as it is one of great age. However, I admittedly am not very good at explaining it, Kanu does a much better job of doing so, so I will link his post here in case you haven’t read it already, which I highly recommend you do. Anyway, I’d like to open about some of my experiences. My mother and father were what you would call a typical Jalabhumese family: my mother the head of household and my father being the “paṇikkutira”, or workhorse, of the family. My mother worked as well, but only a few hours a week, compared to my father which I didn’t see or even hear from too often. A Jalabhumese family is obviously matriarchal, with the woman of the house controlling the finances and decisions, but my mother was strict and dominated the house. It seems like an exaggeration, but my father was on a tight leash. Onto the rest of my family, well… it’s safe to say I wasn’t the favorite. I had SEVEN older sisters, I was the last child, and the only male. It seems as sex forward as Jalabhumese society can be, I think my mother still preferred forgoing contraceptives. Seven sisters. In a female dominated society. You’d be correct to say I got more than my fair amount of teasing from my sisters, elder and younger. I’ve watched them all go through adolescence and practice Niranyu. They are all very capable women, with my eldest sister being the most impressive. She was taught directly from my mother, who is just as impressive. My other sisters weren’t taught nearly as strictly as my eldest sister was, but they are all capable of holding two days, maybe three before performing an Anakketta Chearccha. My sisters would haze me for being a male and not being able to perform to the standards they could set. This is common in Jalabhumi, sexism against men isn’t very common as it is mostly teasing and hazing by the women, but some young men have stepped forward claiming they’ve been feeling harassed and marginalized because of how women treat them. It’s a topic everyone has an opinion on, but I won’t get too political here. My sisters’ hazing did make me feel a little inadequate, admittedly, so I started practicing my own holding schedule right when I hit my teens, and I found the first few hours to be pretty easy, easier than I thought, actually. I was able to hold for an entire day rather comfortably, easily being able to go when getting up, making it through school, then the rest of the day, then relieving myself before going to sleep. I’ve even been able to make it to the morning after, albeit with considerable discomfort. At this rate I could challenge my sisters at their Niranyu. I wouldn’t necessarily participate in Niranyu; a man doing so has been considered somewhat taboo as it supposedly threatens the standing of women as our dominate figures. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to for quite a few years. I was always considered one of the best students in our school system, got very good grades, and my father always saw potential in me. My mother was content with whatever I end up being, be it a service worker of even just a house-husband, not uncommon occupations in Jalabhumi. However, my father saw more in me, and somewhat against my mother’s wishes, he arranged a host family in the UK to house me as I studied in one of Britain’s top secondary schools. At 14, I was moving halfway across the world from the tiny island I called my home. I won’t go into too much detail here as obviously it is unrelated to Jalabhumi, but the TL; DR is that I completed my secondary schooling in the UK with honors, then moved onto college in Amsterdam where I earned a degree in Data Analytics. I became fluent in English and very easily could’ve stayed in Europe for the rest of my life. But I was homesick. I never revisited my family back in Jalabhumi, only exchanging video calls every week or so with my parents. I would rarely see my sisters as some of them had already moved out and gotten jobs on the island (the second oldest was the only one who left, becoming a resort manager in the Maldives). Needless to say, I missed my family, even my bothersome sisters. Perhaps because I had a point to prove to them. While staying in Europe, I continued to practice holding my bladder, not out of any need or desire, but just because I could. I dumbfounded myself with how natural holding came to me, and it was relatively easy to build up the strength to last another day, then a second, making it so I could easily hold for three days. My bladder didn’t so much as bulge from all this holding or liquid, as many Jalabhumi women are prone to do, to the point they look ready to give birth, but it made the area in my abdomen extremely hard and dense. I suppose my bladder doesn’t so much stretch as it does have strength for what it is. Anyway, I had lived in Europe for 6 years, gotten a good job at an international corporation, but couldn’t deny myself from my home country any longer. I missed the culture and the food (European food always seemed so bland and dry to that in Jalabhumi), and the weather especially. The UK and the Netherlands were certainly rainy and wet as Jalabhumi often is but adjusting to the frigid temperatures in the winter almost turned me into an icicle. I asked my work if it was possible to work from a tiny island in the Indian Ocean, and to my delight, they said that my services would be more than satisfactory working remotely. I told my family the wonderful news, and my parents were delighted, my mother in tears. I suppose she did love her son even though she never really showed it before. I said goodbye to the few friends I made in Europe, and basically sold the few belongings I had and moved back to my beloved Jalabhumi. My parents organized a big reunion with all my sisters to welcome me back. Everyone was happy to see me, hugs, gifts, and a lot of catching up to do. A couple of my sisters already had husbands, my oldest sister even expecting a child. However, she was still quick to harass me, much as she had in the past. She was skeptical that the “outside world” may have corrupted me, reminding me that as a man, I have a position in Jalabhumese society to service a wife, as opposed to the male-dominated society I had grown accustomed to. I’ll admit I got a bit annoyed. I started a bit of a heated debate with her which I probably shouldn’t have. Arguing with my sister is frustrating, as she always tries to divert the subject or come up with bullshit arguments. One of these diversions came up, when she realized she ran out of convincing arguments: “Whatever, [me]. I don’t have to take your word for a second. Especially a man unable to hold the burdens of Anakketta that a woman would.” She said smugly. I kind of lost it here. I told her that I am not the little boy she knew more than half a decade ago. I still had the blood of a Jalabhumi in me, my bladder is just as capable as any other. This outburst rocked the already awkwardly unsettled reunion. Breaking the gender gap and asserting that a man can hold as well as a woman can is unheard of in Jalabhumi; it was just common knowledge that they weren’t. But I was confident in my bladder’s abilities, and I had a massive point to prove to not only her, but my other sisters and my parents. My sister scoffed and said that the education in Europe had corrupted my mind of the superior gender dynamic in Jalabhumi. I called her out as saying she was scared. Honestly a bit of a bluff, but she was as competitive as anyone. And the gloves were off. My oldest sister officially challenged me, in front of my entire family, that she would be here tomorrow and participate in a test of our bladders. I confidently accepted; I even taunted her my claiming her pregnancy would make it an easy victory for me. She had no response but to sulk and return to her room, which her husband sheepishly and quietly followed behind. My mother chewed me out for being so aggressive and claimed to not go through such a challenge to avoid humiliating myself. I snapped at her saying that I again was not the boy I used to be, and I wouldn’t back down from the sister that always harassed me. My father pulled my mother back and gave her a nod to say that it would be best to settle our differences ourselves. The reunion ended then and there, everyone quietly returning to their rooms. I went back to my old room, which my mother converted into a place she sewed after I moved out, the sewing machine on my old desk, but my bed just as I remembered it. I laid in bed, physically and mentally preparing myself for the contest to prove myself and see my sister fail. Waking up the next morning was a bit surreal, being in the room I hadn’t been in since I was a child. The rush of nostalgia was complemented by my mother making breakfast. It was like going back in time. I crawled out of bed and into the dining room where my oldest sister was already eating, and notably had her legs crossed and bouncing. I admittedly hadn’t peed in almost two days so I was also feeling an early morning need but nothing I couldn’t manage. I said good morning, and my sister whipped her head around. I expected some kind of death glare or snarky comment, but to my surprise, she actually gave me an apology. She said she was just worried about how I would be after being away for so long and that she was defensive because she cared about me and didn’t want me to change into some misogynist while I was studying abroad. The TL; DR, she was just worried about me and paranoid that I would change. It was a nice heart-to-heart, even barely though I was barely awake. We made up, hugged it out, and I can truly say that despite her past teasing, my sister still cared about me. It was nice. But there was another thing. She made a very brief comment essentially calling off the contest we made in our anger yesterday, citing that “she didn’t want to put me through that.” I didn’t back down though. I jokingly said I wasn’t the younger brother she knew me as before and that I wouldn’t back down. She laughed, saying that even still, a man would never be capable of holding as much as a woman who was trained in Niranyu, slightly mockingly. She announced that even during her pregnancy, she would still only relieve herself at a minimum of once every two days. I mentioned it was more than two days since I had last relieved myself, and she was quite taken aback. The time didn’t exactly blow her out of the water, but I could tell her confidence had waned a bit at this notion. Finally, after a bit of bickering, she conceded: “Fine! If you want to be so adamant, we can have a friendly contest of strength after I complete my Anakketta Chearccha later today. Just don’t get too grumpy when you lose!” she said with a smug grin amidst fidgeting, crossed legs, even placing a hand on her lap. My mother could only smile as she heard our contest. It was not uncommon for my sisters to bicker about who had the best bladder, to which my mother saw as adequate “practice” for Niranyu in their adolescence. I suppose our little contest was a bit of a nostalgia trip for her as well. My eldest sister and I were the first ones up, my other sisters slowly trickled into the dining room after smelling my mother’s cooking. The husbands had left the night before to return to their roles in the house and for work. We told them about our contest, and they all seemed quite bewildered for being able to hold for two days. The third oldest even called my bluff saying I was lying. I let her feel my rock-hard abdomen for confirmation, which she conceded. The force of her palm certainly wasn’t welcome. After breakfast, my eldest sister was already considerably more fidgety and desperate, as were the rest of my sisters, as a matter of fact. As they all were meeting up for my return anyway, they organized their Niranyu services to be synchronized for Anakketta Chearccha. It is said that group AC’s are good practices to occasionally take part in within groups of family and friends. The Anakettapustakam scripture (I don’t recall which passage) states that these group AC’s are ways of testing Anakketta’s strength so she can hold back even stronger floods, as well as improve the willpower of the women performing them, as well as deepening the bond and friendship between them. Occasionally you will see a long line of women at one shrine when others are available, as it is said breaking the group into multiple shrines is bad luck for Anaketta. So, I sat with my sisters eating our delicious breakfast as they each showed varying degrees of desperation. My youngest sister who is still a year older than me has the smallest bladder of the seven sisters, and she was about ready to explode. Fidgeting in her seat, scissoring her legs, and making slight moans and groans between bites. Sitting next to me, it was quite annoying listening to her, as it didn’t make my situation any easier either. Looking down the line of my sisters, glancing at their abdomens they looked just about as pregnant as the eldest, who of course was actually pregnant. More fidgeting, crotch grabbing, you know, the works. As I grew to know each sister, they all seemed to have their own “style” of holding, it would seem, it’s very interesting. However, for the sake of being concise, I won’t get into the details… for now. After breakfast, the youngest seemed just about ready to burst, she begged the others if they could already commit their Anakketta Chearccha, and that she apologized for being so weak, blaming the drinks she had the night before, and that she would make it up for the next one. Rather begrudgingly, they all agreed, but I think they were all somewhat relieved that someone else asked first; they all seemed to be very clearly in a desperate state. As they were leaving to begin their short pilgrimage to the shrine, my eldest sister said that she would give me a slight head start by saying I should use the bathroom now, and that we would begin our contest when they came back (wouldn’t it be more of a handicap then, if I was going to relieve myself first?). I did relieve myself anyway when they left, and this is where I would like to get into the bathroom facilities of Jalabhumi, to which I’m surprised Kanu failed to mention in detail in his work. Running water and plumbing services were introduced to Jalabhumi around the same time the rest of the world did, our capital city even getting a state-of-the-art water system that some western cities would envy even today (thank our brilliant women engineers!). However, the concept of toilets in Jalabhumi was a very controversial issue some decades ago. Historically women would of course commit to their shrines and men would mostly relieve themselves wherever they pleased, but the issue of the… “other” need was relegated to outhouses and sanitation shacks. These structures were mostly shared between houses and very basic, only meant to service that “second need”. When Jalabhumi got our plumbing system, we forwent our waste services for more than a century, but when we started getting tourists and other nations declaring us a third-world country for lacking private amenities, it created some controversy. The government went back and forth on the issue, seeing it as a necessary quality of life for modern homes in Jalabhumi, but more radical politicians stating it will make women complacent by having a way to relieve themselves in their own homes without needing to visit a shrine, and thus weaken the strength of Anakketta. A solution was reached when a team of engineers designed a very special toilet: one specifically used for that second need, while making it impossible for women to relieve their normal burdens without making a huge mess on the floor. By using a much smaller seat, you could comfortably sit on it and do your “business” without being tempted to piss along with it (which still took a great deal of strength). Men could still easily pee standing up into the bowl (granted they have good aim), but it was nigh impossible for women to pee in the bowl cleanly without doing some insane acrobatics and contortions. Generally speaking, it still uses the honor system, but peeing in a toilet as a women is a one way ticket to being called a jaladhara, naturally. So yeah, history lesson over. I took a relaxing piss, taking well over a minute to complete, before heading back to my room to work on my laptop for a few things I needed to complete for work before my sisters get back. I took them the better part of two hours for them to come back, where they explained that another group of women were ahead of them, and my eldest sister, stubborn as she is, refused to commute to a different shrine, because the priestess at this shrine was a close friend of her that she had not spoken to for some time. Needless to say, you can imagine the state of my sisters with huge, bulging bladders, double crossing their legs, hopping from foot to foot, yet maintaining their composure as best they can with small talk with the other group. Before you ask why I didn’t tag along, it is generally frowned upon for a man to attend an Anakketta Chearccha if they aren’t their husband or lover, even if it’s family. Nevertheless, my sisters looked a lot less bloated and a lot more relieved come their return. This is when my sister declared our contest official, cementing it by downing an entire glass of fruit juice high in diuretics, and urged I do the same, which I did. We cheered to a friendly competition between family, but we went along our regular days, checking in on one another to tease and such. The first day was naturally rather uneventful. We both matched our drinking levels, both of us attempting to one up the other. By the time I went to bed that night, I was quite full, not in the bladder, but in my stomach from all the liquids we drank. Sleeping it off was easy. Waking up the next morning was not much different, greeted my sister the same, and I made my own breakfast since our mother was out doing community work maintaining a local shrine. The only main difference was that my sister and I drank perhaps three times we normally would, but we didn’t overdo it. She then surprised me suggesting we go into town and scour the local market for fresh fruits for dinner. She also hinted that it would be a fun challenge for me. Seeing squirmy and bulging women in public in Jalabhumi was far from an uncommon sight, so much so it’s almost expected, so some desperation is only natural. Seeing a man squirm, tug on his crotch, and stagger his walk would raise a few eyebrows. Some conservative citizens would even cringe in disgust as they see it as an “attack” on the culture of Jalabhumi. I think that was my sister’s intention. I admittedly did have a bit of a nag in my bladder, all the juices were finally making its way through me. Maintaining my composure wasn’t too difficult out on the town, even after my sister offloaded heavy bags of fruit and vegetables. I concede that when we got back from our shopping, I did have a bit of an err in my step, almost like a limp. I was hardly desperate, but sometimes I would get a bit of a pang from my abdomen alerting me to consider using the bathroom. My sister exhibited little example of the sort. I was beginning to get a bit concerned whether I would eat my words, but luckily, I got a bit of a confidence boost while dinner was being prepared. My father was staying late at his manual labor job, so my mother and sister made something like that of curry with the juicy fruits we bought today. I was relegated to the living room (or at least our equivalent of a living room in Jalabhumi), as I was as useless in the kitchen as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. I mostly browsed the internet on my laptop, and I suppose my sister didn’t think I was paying attention, because their signs of desperation were profound. They swung their hips back and forth, crossed their legs, hopped from foot to foot, pretty much someone on the verge of having an accident. I also noticed her whisper something to my mother next to her. I’m no expert at lip-reading but if I had to guess, it was something along the lines of: “How is he holding it so long? He should have pissed a long time ago!”. My mother’s shrug in response seems to support this theory. It gave me the confidence to keep going, even when my abdomen became solid to the touch, and I occasionally had to shift how I sat to keep myself distracted. Dinner came and went and the fruits we bought were certainly beginning to have an effect. Jalabhumi has some fruits that are solely native to the island, and we hardly ever export them as we only produce enough to sustain ourselves on such a small, remote island. These fruits are incredibly juicy and flavorful but have some of the highest diuretic properties of anything that you can consume, much more that you would find in a normal pharmacy, that’s for sure. Jalabhumese men and women have almost built what you would call a tolerance for the effects of the fruits, but they are still extremely profound. An average Jalabhumese women probably would be able to go an extra day or more if given a normal diet of crop from the continents. I can’t say the same for tourists, however, it’s not uncommon for a tourist to finish a meal then rush straight to a restroom ready to piss themselves. The curry was having an effect on me, going to bed after dinner I was able to grip my penis and hold myself to my heart’s content without the eyes of my sister, but it made falling asleep difficult. However, I could take solace in the fact that my sister ate perhaps twice as much as I did without thinking, as she was eating for two after all, and two would also be making fluids for the bladder of one. Waking up the next morning was interesting. My dreams were filled with nothing but scenes of raging waterfalls and torrential rains. It was almost as if it was a flood not even Anaketta could contain. Luckily, I woke up dry, I thanked myself for the training and my bladder not failing me. I walked into the dining room to see my sister all by herself. Her hands gripping her legs, her foot tapping rapidly, and her left leg fiercely crossed over her right. Her expression was one that can only be described as truly desperate. I said good morning, and she frantically replied the same. I could tell things were getting interesting, but I admit I was starting to cut it close, nearing 72 hours of non-stop holding. I knew my limit wasn’t far off, but my sister’s wasn’t either. I asked her where everyone was, noting the emptiness of the house. She replied that everyone but her went to perform another Anaketta Chearccha, with my dad going to work. I sat next to her, I wasn’t particularly hungry considering how full I was, and I mostly wanted to just stay still to avoid an accident. It sounds weird, but at this point my sister was a sight to behold. Along with her pregnant figure, her abdomen was still very prominent below it, signifying a large bladder bulge, no doubt her baby resting and squeezing it from above. She looked the most desperate I had ever seen her, and I must admit I was almost proud of the fact. Bringing my sister to this state was an accomplishment for both of us, but I certainly wasn’t going to quit now. Hours crawled by, each minute bringing more strain than the next. I tried my best to distract myself with movies and videos on my laptop, but it was incredibly difficult to stay still in any meaningful capacity. I wouldn’t say I was “pee dancing” by this point, but to say I wasn’t aggressively fidgeting would be a blatant lie. My sister was similar, but looked far more frantic. She didn’t wish to preserve her self-image anymore; she clutched her crotch around her curvaceous bulge and constantly scissored and gripped her legs tightly together. She was hardly subtle about observing my condition either, constantly fixating her eyes on my and my abdomen, looking for a bulge or a leak, anything to give her hope. My confidence grew, but I knew that nothing is over until it’s over. And then, as if on cue, a faint rumble of thunder could be heard above us, followed by a louder rumble, then an even louder crack. A sprinkle of rain began hitting the window, which quickly grew into a massive downpour in no less than a minute. Jalabhumi’s weather on full display. This worked to my advantage. I’m not one to easily falter to the sound of rain or waterfalls or dripping faucets. They more so serve as a “reminder” of needing to pee rather than amplifying the need. My sister wasn’t in the same boat. As the onslaught of water berated the house, her expression showed the clenching of teeth and grimaces of strain. She audibly swore under her breath, pleading to herself to just hang on a little bit longer, that she would win if she just kept holding. I was starting to feel bad for her. Maybe I should just concede? I wouldn’t want her to hurt herself or her baby, as she was clearing going beyond her limit. I gave her another 15 minutes of intense strain, and I couldn’t suppress my guilt any longer. My sister looked like an absolute wreck. Her face was pale with her brow drenched in sweat, her abdomen looking so swollen her shirt could not contain it, hunched over, her legs crossed so tightly it risked popping a blood vessel. I decided that there were no winners in this contest, and that I had to be the bigger man. “Right.” I spoke up. “This is over. I had enough of this.” I began to stand up slowly, the action creating a great toll on my bladder as I could feel urine already start to enter my urethra. My sister could barely speak. “H-h-huh?...” She spoke softly. “W-what do you mean?...” I gave no response other than to walk to the sliding door of our living room, where upon opening it I was faced with the oppressive downpour created by Talikkuka. My bladder protesting fiercely but knowing relief was near, it nearly began the process of emptying itself then and there. It took nearly all I had to stem it off, just for a few more seconds. That was all I needed. I undid my pants, whipped out my penis, and immediately pissed a downpour strong enough to contest the rain beating on my body. To say the relief was heavenly was an understatement. The stream was the strongest I could possibly produce, but the process of emptying my titanium-steel bladder took it’s time, and the relief was slow to escalate, but it was absolutely amazing. The stream even started to make a divet in the dirt, but I could hardly care about the landscaping at this point. Pissing so much, so freely, in the rain, it was like out of a movie or fanfiction, it didn’t even seem real. From about 5 minutes since the beginning of my piss, it eventually started to taper off, my bladder finally emptying, and myself in complete ecstasy. I just barely noticed the hiss of a second stream next to me, and to my surprise, found my sister denying her duties as a servant of Anaketta, squat down with her pants around her ankles peeing into the grass as freely as I was, her stream contesting mine. She let out an audible moan that sounded more like an orgasm. You could see her abdomen shrink ever so slightly over time, almost as if her bladder took up more room than her baby. She prayed through her moaning, begging Anaketta for her forgiveness but also thanking her for her desperately needed relief. I was about done by this point, and wanted to give her some privacy, well, as much as I could. I shook off (as guys do when they finish), went back inside and started drying myself off from the rain with a towel. My sister went inside shortly after, looking beyond relieved and much healthier, her color returning to her face much more relaxed, only drenched, and the only semblance of a bulge being that of her offspring. “I guess you won huh?” I asked her jokingly. She didn’t respond at first. I took it as her being ashamed of pissing outside her duties, so I decided to keep quiet. But the next thing I knew was being hugged tightly by her. “Thank you… Thank you so much…” She muttered with tearful eyes. I’m glad I took the initiative to end our silly contest. I knew my sister was not one to lose easily or bring shame upon herself, even if it could kill her. She probably knew this as well, but was against herself with coming up with the courage to actually piss when she was well past her limit. I perhaps saved her from more than I know. I hugged her tightly. “You’re welcome.” It was a heartfelt moment I’ve never felt with any of my sisters. It brought us closer together than ever before, and it made me appreciate my family as a whole. The two of us relaxed, and talked much more freely like siblings, putting the contest behind us. The rest of the family showed up about an hour later, and noting our relaxed expressions, knew that the contest was over. My sisters immediately asked us who won. My sister looked at me, and said she did, but it was really close. I agreed. My sisters were joyed that one of their own won, but still were beyond impressed by my sister’s account, citing that I had the biggest bladder of any man on Jalabhumi, a nice title, to be sure. I never brought up my sister peeing in the backyard. To the rest of my family, she managed to reach a shrine well after I had already relieved myself, and that’s the story that appears to be true in my family’s eyes. But she knew the truth, and we came to a mutual respect between the two of us. We ate dinner as a family, being once again welcomed home by my family with much less tension and can truthfully say that I appreciated them much more after the contest than before. But life moves on. My sisters went back to their lives and homes, and I decided to follow through living on Jalabhumi but separate from my parents. I found a nice home on the outskirts of Anakkettapuram, with a strong internet connection to work and even play games and chat online with my friends. This is where I met my fiancé, who I’ll get into detail the next time I write. She is a very interesting character I’d like you all to meet, and I’m proud to call her my future wife. Until then, I hoped you enjoyed my own little excerpt of my small home nation and its intricacies! If you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them in my next post! And of course, I’d like to thank Kanu for the wonderful inspiration of exposing our island to you wonderful people. Until then! Talkkālaṁ viṭa!
  3. Ok, so in a discord server I spend a bit of time on sometimes we joke around and reference a certain idea and last time I saw it mentioned I decided to have it drawn. (Also, in case you wonder, character was originally going to be a woman but somoneone suggested that I should make them non-binary instead and my response pretty much was "why not?")
  4. Her bladder is now over 2000cc. Thanks to Gewalt for the art

    © Pixiv.net

  5. Thank you to Alexandrafire for the artwork

    © E621.net

  6. I had finally saved up enough money to buy myself a penthouse, I was radically in the moment the day I purchased it and I drank... a lot. I had wine, rum, and shot after shot after shot. I was so happy I didn't care about getting completely drunk, and unaware of how much fluids I had consumed. When I finally finished drinking I was flat wasted, and asleep on my bed. I want to say I was only asleep for about an hour, maybe hour and a half. But those drinks I had before had gone right through me and I had to pee... BAD. I was awaken by my bladder begging for relief. I must have been so drunk I didn't remember getting into my own hot tub because when I awoke I was wearing a one piece swimsuit. The swimsuit was an old one that didnt really fit me anymore but i guess i had squeezed into it somehow. Weirdly I felt turned on in a sense, every time I would move, my muscles would contract and would squeeze my bladder. I pranced around my penthouse trying to hold it to keep the wonderful sensation alive. I eventually found myself in the bathroom, staring at the toilet. My head was racing... it seemed so right. I turned away and walked out despite how badly I needed to relieve myself. I sat on the couch and turned on the TV thinking I can distract myself and can keep the sensation going. Fifteen minutes into a TV show I started squirming really bad. Don't pee... don't pee...don't even think about peeing. My swimsuit was very tight and was hugging my abdomen, this made it very uncomfortable and hard to sit still. Ten more minutes and I was in pain, I was holding so much urine in my body... my lower stomach was bulging outward. I tried to press on it only to find that it was rock hard. I started gently caressing my bladder giving me incredible sensations, I tried sitting up when a sharp pain went through my spine. That's when I knew maybe it was time to relieve myself. I slowly got up and made my way to the bathroom, my back still aching from my overly stretched bladder. It was so painful... I felt like any minute my bladder could burst like a balloon. I sat down on the toilet and started peeing like a garden hose. It was a hard consistent stream of surprisingly clear pee. I could feel my bladder get smaller and smaller as my stream got weaker. I peed for no lie 49 seconds straight.
  7. As you know I closed commissions some time ago and it may stay like that for a while beause there are a couple of comics that I want to finish before I get back to accepting them. However I keep getting mesages on ideas or being asked when I will open them again and I'm starting to feel bad admiting they are closed (and may also accidentally ghosted a few people which is not helping me feel better) so as to not disapoint everyone that is looking forward to new artwork I decided to do this new kind of thread. Basically, I have noticed that my usual method of drawing has become too slow and whenever I allow people to give me ideas they come faster than I can draw them. Because of this I am planning to go for a much less detailed style with which I can (hopefully) not only keep up but keep making progress on those comics I refered to earlier whithout getting bored of doing the same thing for months. Here are some of the things I have drawn so far with this style (this one is a bit long so you may have to open it in a new window to see it) One more thing I should mention is that I'm not going to be looking for requests/commissions that were made while they were closed or people that were asking when they would open because my memory sucks and I can only remember around 3 of them.
  8. From the album: Omorashi Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  9. From the album: Omorashi Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  10. From the album: Omorashi Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  11. I don't even know what happened and how she ended up like this but that bladder bulge tho. Thanks to Yozothescribe for the artwork

    © Furaffinity.net

  12. Wildagram

    Code: Lemonade

    For Pinkie pie, code lemonade is about to go haywire
  13. I normally ignore any need to pee I have until I get home. I have a pretty good feel for my limits and I do a pretty good job at telling my bladder it has to wait until the end of the day. At least, I did before. About a month ago I started hormones. My t-blocker happens to be a diuretic. Also, I've been wearing more restrictive clothing. Things seemed to escalate almost out of my control yesterday. I got a 20oz coffee before doing deliveries, and I had drank some juice ahead of time. I was wearing a form-fitting turtleneck sweater dress (nice thing about being slim and having a bit of a butt: having the confidence to wear form fitting clothes and kinda passing until someone stares a sec) and yoga pants, with layers under each and a skirt under the sweater dress. First few hours were no big deal, started having to pee a couple hours in. That changed a little later though, and as I was on my way to drop something off at someone's apartment, I was squirming. I was kinda surprised, I didn't expect that to happen. For the first 15 minutes or so I was more annoyed than anything else, as my tights underneath everything were digging into my midsection a little, meaning both that I had a bladder bump and that where my tights ended was easily noticable to anyone who tried to look. Things started becoming a problem at the apartment. I had my legs pressed together after stepping out of the car and would have been very obviously holding it if anyone was around to see. I did the delivery and then got back to the car. Sitting down I realized I had to actually pee. This was non-negotiable. The city is generally friendly towards trans people, but there are parts where some people started treating me coldly and avoiding me right after I came out when they didn't before. I didn't know how this part was, and I also had never used a public bathroom since coming out except once at a unisex one at college. I looked up "public toilets" on my phone and drove to the nearest open one. Drove up and saw that it was located in a preschool. Yeah, no. Why is that one even on google maps? Started driving to the next one. I felt a little bit of pee involuntarily start to escape me but I managed to clamp it down. I realized my lumbar support wasn't helping matters, and once I removed it from the chair, I went back down to just desperate. Pulled into a park that was actually completely empty, which was nice. Parked, stepped out, headed towards the restrooms in a kind of fast walk. Stood in front of it for a sec, reminded myself I'm too desperate not to, and stepped into the ladies' room. It was empty, but I was going to hurry up and try to be gone before anyone else arrives. The problem was it took a sec for me to disassemble my outfit enough, it took me a little bit to empty my bladder (not *really* long but longer than usual), and I had to do a little #2. All this while hovering because the toilet didn't actually have a seat. As I was finishing my business, a woman stepped into the room. I got scared, but thankfully, she fairly quickly went into the furthest stall from me. I came out, washed my hands, and left. Heading back to the car I realized I had to adjust my outfit some more, but thankfully I saw no one on the walk back. My bladder bump being gone did help make it easier. I then went back to doing deliveries, and I was able to hold the rest of the day's pee until I got home.
  14. From the album: Omorashi Poses and Short Sequences

    Circinus is a little mouse with a big thing for robots! ...who also, evidently, have a big thing for him - and his bladder.
  15. Out of every character from any movie, tv show, etc. Helen Parr aka Elastigirl is the one I barely see any content about on this site. I mean it's freaking Elastigirl, She could get into any scenario involving omorashi. She Literally has STRETCHING [email protected] Imagine how big her bladder can get! Anyway I'm gonna think of a story for her. Any Ideas?
  16. I live in a very liberal place and the vast majority of people are very accepting of me after coming out, but I still feel a little scared of using the women's restroom, and I had already gone for long periods without peeing away from home before so just kinda slipped into "only use one toilet" mode. Today I went to work on some stuff in the morning, and did a few deliveries during lunch. I was wearing a beanie (to cover the short hair), a black sweater dress, and black yoga pants. I know, colorful lol. Anyhow, I have a little bit of belly fat that I'm hoping moves to my hips as I transition, and I already have a nice butt and hips if I do say so myself. To give myself that hourglass shape, I've been using a waist trainer while out and about. Inside the sweater dress, it reaches from below the navel to just below the rib cage. I did a delivery at a rather fancy hotel, and I had to be walked to the elevator since I wasn't one of the people staying there. After getting on the elevator for this really tall building, I looked down to make sure I was still presenting properly and everything. I was kinda alarmed to see that a little bit of belly fat was sticking out below the trainer. What happened? Well, turns out it had rode up while in the car, and my bladder had decided to use the opportunity to stretch. So, before reaching the top floor, I grabbed the waist trainer through the sweater dress and pulled it back down over my bladder. Felt like someone was sitting on it as it pushed the bulge back into my abdomen. I kinda did a small moan that thankfully no one was there to hear, then I quickly switched to acting normally as the door opened. I did the delivery and then left the hotel without letting on to anyone there that I had just shoved my poor bladder back into me.
  17. She put down those weights and hit the bathrooms. Thanks to Papergami for the art
  18. From the album: Omorashi Poses and Short Sequences

    Mizu likes to hold it in until a commercial break. He also likes to put it off for the next one... and the next one... as the water bottles pile up next to him. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
  19. holdinginpee

    97

    From the album: Translated Images

    as with some previous images, the contrast and brightness have been adjusted for increased visibility. this one was particularly messy, but i mostly managed to clean up the extremely dark spots.
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