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  1. Crossdresser peeing View File There we go, I think I finally found the correct way to post this hahahhaha Submitter JoeDuhBear Submitted 05/14/2022 Category Male  
  2. 106 downloads

    There we go, I think I finally found the correct way to post this hahahhaha
    Free
  3. Here4theFun

    Bratty Al

    From the album: Here4theFun's Digital Art

    Al has been punished for disobeying and being a Brat in general. No he has been locked in a chastity cage and can only pee and cum with permission. Will he obey the rules or will he go back to his old ways?
  4. Between the Industrial Revolution and World War I, there was an explosion in cases of “female men” who took advantage of urbanization and its conditions of anonymity to pass for male. We don’t know how many there were, because for every female man who was exposed in the press there might have been dozens who successfully avoided detection. Historians frequently argue over whether particular female men should be considered transgender persons, proto-feminists seeking economic opportunities not available to women at the time, or butch lesbians protecting themselves and their lovers from scrutiny; such debates end in useless tangles of rhetoric and politics which merely serve to illustrate that while queer people have always existed, our current labels for categorizing them have not. Here we have an excerpt from a document dating from “the Gay ‘90s” that was discovered in an attic in Boston. Middle class housewife Polly M_____ lovingly describes her “female husband” Charles M_____, and relates his ability to retain urine for long periods to protect the couple from exposure. She recalls an incident where Charles was harshly tried in this regard. The anecdote offers a remarkable window into the intimate lives of this extraordinary couple. It may be read as a transgender story or a lesbian one, depending on the particular biases of the reader. - Dr. Jonathan D. Berrycloth, Professor of History ______ For the past ten years of our marriage, visitors to the apartment have admired our wedding photograph mounted on the wall. There is me, Polly, buxom and blonde and a tad younger and fresher than I am today in my white dress and veil, and my husband Charles in his wedding suit. He looks at the camera with his serious, clear eyes (which are gray, although the photograph of course cannot show this.) His dark hair is slicked down in the style of 1889. The camera angle is flattering to his high cheekbones and aquiline nose. His face is clean-shaven, perhaps a bit soft and boyish around the jawline and pretty cupid’s-bow mouth, but he still cuts a dashing figure - and lady visitors say so. What our visitors have no way of knowing is that I have a female husband. My beloved Charles was born a girl, and has the same parts as I! It might seem odd to you, reader, that I think of my husband as “he” and “him” even when I must turn his special monthly rags over to the laundress along with my own, but if you ever saw us walking on the promenade of a summer evening, with him dressed in a new suit and leading me upon his arm with the gallantry of a knight, you would find yourself questioning the meaning of “true sex” as much as I did during our honeymoon days! Charles is tall and lean of breast and hip, which might have hurt his marriageability had he remained in New Hampshire and been a young lady. As a man, it helps him avoid suspicion - especially when he is standing next to me, his very little woman! He has many clever tricks for attaining a most handsome appearance. He owns a band like a small corset that he places over his breast each day to flatten his teacup-sized paps. He also scrapes his face with a razor despite not having a beard, to create the appearance of rougher skin. He pitches his voice as low and sonorous as he can, not minding that this earns him a reputation as the quiet type. When the barber, the tailor, the cobbler, and the hatter complete the picture, he looks more a man than the boorish and stupid husbands of many women I have known. No one has questioned us, except when it comes to the appearance that I am barren. There have been distasteful comments among the neighbors about my supposed barrenness. Soon we shall have to go to the orphanage and find ourselves an unfortunate babe or three to raise. I think I should make an excellent mother. […] If you have a presumption that a female husband could not be a great lover, you are sorely mistaken! Charles has always approached his marital duties with great enthusiasm, and shows impressive cunning with the hands, the tongue, and certain novel objects obtained from Paris - cunning that I imagine is frequently absent in the proper male husband, who so crudely wields the blunt instrument God made for siring children. I admit I became frustrated in those newlywed days, because Charles would not allow me to reciprocate in marital joy. He would push my hands or head away from his charming pink muff and say, “No, sweet Polly. I don’t need it. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” […] I did not mention it previously, but among the curious aspects of physiology that have prevented the circumstances of my husband’s birth being exposed is his iron bladder. He need not take the risk of partially undress himself in the water closets at his office because he need not use them at all - he can retain water from morning to evening. There are times that I listen at the door of our water closet and am quite astonished at the volume he has held despite showing no signs of being in distress, whereas I would have been positively frantic trying to do the same. Indeed, without a corset squeezing him or the frequent opportunities for release afforded to most men, my husband has attained capacities well beyond the norm. I have never known him to risk the use of public facilities, even when an evening at the social club with his coworkers taxes him with hours and beer. On these nights he rushes into our abode quite in need after over twelve hours without release, but I never find yellow stains on his underthings to indicate any loss of control. I recall one of these nights early in our marriage, when he had been at the club drinking in hopes of building camaraderie with his then-new colleagues. I had taken cold cuts for my supper and then retired to the bath. I heard him bumble through the front door, then fling open the door to our powder room, yank down his trousers, and drop onto the toilet with a loud groan. He pissed furiously and blissfully for over a minute before realizing I was in the bath! He was horribly embarrassed, but I was not about to scold him after hearing the evidence of how much he needed it. In fact, I praised him for being able to keep so much water (and beer!) sealed inside to protect himself and our marriage. If I were in his place, my tiny toy bladder would fail us at every turn, just as it failed me at least once a week back in school. There have been occasions when my husband’s iron bladder has been put to the test. One of the most dramatic was the visit to the Gershwins’ place in the country. It was two years after we were married. The Gershwins were of a higher class than ourselves, and the invitation was a rare professional opportunity for Charles, as well as a social opportunity for me. We were to take a days’ journey out of the city to their estate and stay in a guest wing for two nights. There would be a formal dinner the first night, and a host of gentry leisure activities the next day. We mustered all the wiggle room in our household budget to prepare for the fête. I had my purple striped party dress altered to look more chic, and attached a whole stuffed snowy egret to my hat (how the times have changed - now that Mrs. Harriet Lawrence Hemenway has made a cause of saving the egrets, this would be considered the height of bad taste!) Charles had his own tailcoat and waistcoat altered and invested in a new tophat, white tie [bowtie], and gloves. He pooled his money with two bachelors who were also invited to hire a carriage. On the day before our journey, I found a notice on the board outside our apartment house stating that the city would be changing the waterworks to further guard against the cholera, and the water service would have to be interrupted at six o’clock the next morning. I set out pitchers for our breakfast and resolved that we would have to wake up very early the next morning in order to take care of any bodily needs before our departure. We had gone modern and sold off the chamber pot after getting our water closet. We did not wake up before six o’clock. Charles, of course, was completely sanguine about missing his chance at a morning elimination. He drank his morning coffee and read the paper without complaint until it was time to get ready. As I mentioned, I have always been a bit plump. If I wanted a wasp waist to fit into my altered dress, I was going to need Charles to lace my corset for me and pull me in tighter than I could ever pull myself. He obliged with an aplomb that I think a male husband would lack. He yanked my laces tighter and tighter, and on the final yank I squealed and helplessly jetted all the water I had accumulated during the night onto the floor. It made a puddle under my bare feet. I moved quickly to clean up, but Charles was not upset. By then he was used to my occasional accidents. “Ah, you look so beautiful!” he exclaimed when he saw me in my full party dress with hat and gloves. I beamed. At nine the bachelors came by with the carriage and we set out on our way. We were giddy with excitement. The bachelors had brought our lunch as Charles had discussed: cucumber sandwiches and a vat of lemonade that was watery from all the ice that had melted in it. We stopped to eat in a meadow around eleven. As it was warm and sunny, Charles and I each had three glasses of lemonade. We rode through long stretches of country and many precious towns once we departed from Boston. After we had ridden through the third town and heard its church bells announce the three o’clock hour, one of the bachelors asked the driver to stop so we could stretch our legs. I silently thanked Providence, as I was quite desperate to relieve myself of the lemonade and anguished from my corset squeezing my bladder and the jolting of the carriage on the rough road. Charles helped me down from the carriage while the bachelors stole into the bushes at the right side of the way, almost certainly to address the same problem. He then chivalrously guided me beneath a tree on the left side where I could spread my legs and lift my skirts. I am loath to admit it, but in my eagerness I began to void as I took the last three steps to the location he had indicated, feeling warm liquid trickling down my thighs. I was grateful that I was wearing the old-fashioned split drawers under my petticoat, and thus soiled nothing but the very tops of my stockings. Is there a greater pleasure than having a piss in nature, with your dear husband standing guard for you, when you are wearing a tight corset and your bladder is bruised from having been knocked about in a carriage for hours? It was so exquisite that I would have liked to water the ground for several additional minutes, just for the sensuousness of it. When we all got back into the carriage, I wondered why my husband had not relieved himself - especially since I knew he had gone without voiding in the morning. Then it occurred to me: he could not go with the other men and then drop his trousers. I asked him later if it had bothered him to stand guard for me when he had to hold it in. “It was my duty as your husband,” he said, “even if the splattering you made on the dirt made me briefly tremble inside the way the earth does before a geyser erupts.” I gasped when our carriage arrived at the estate an hour later. The gardens were sprawling and gorgeous, and full of Boston royalty strolling about in fabulous dresses and suits. In the center of the tableau I could see the Gershwins greeting their guests. I was dazzled and intimidated - these were the richest people I had ever seen or spoken to. The servants guided us to the refreshments and we all had tea and cake. Charles later claimed he was so nervous he had ten cups of tea to be polite. I ducked behind the hollyhocks and made a discreet little puddle, as had been customary for generations of ladies. It was not urgent, but I knew my toy bladder too well and could not risk becoming panicked again due to the tea. I had to concentrate on making an impression. Dinner was not until six, so we were invited to tour the grounds and the stables. Charles had me on his arm and presented me to his work superiors whenever we encountered them. I noticed that he was stiff with me, even unfriendly, but such was to be expected in the presence of high society people. We were informed of a striking feature of the Gershwin’s country place: they entertained so often that they had installed special water closets for their guests, one for men and one for women, located in separate corridors on opposite sides of the main hall for modesty. If I had known this, I might have left the hollyhocks alone. I noticed that Charles vanished for a moment shortly after we were enlightened in this regard, and I was happy for him. I idly wondered about the volume he must have been holding after a night and a day; even iron bladders have limits. When the dozens of guests were herded into the dining room in preparation for dinner, I could not help but admire him all over again. It is a woman’s weakness to see her husband dressed to the nines in a tophat, tailcoat, and gloves, walking tall and holding his own among the powerful. If I had lacked restraint, I would have announced to the other middle-class wives in attendance that that striking man there was my husband and they should envy me as much as they envied the Gershwins! What I did not know was that when Charles, by then bursting with tea and heartily yearning, had visited the water closet for men, he discovered to his dismay that it had multiple fixtures installed, all of them designed for men who needed less privacy than himself. He would have to retain through the whole of the three-hour dinner and then on indefinitely. “I was in agony during that dinner,” he later confessed to me, “I was so anxious to impress and terrified of making a mistake in my table manners, and I was absolutely dying to relieve myself, but I could not show any outward signs of discomfort no matter how my bladder ached. Every time one of the servants poured a drink, the stretched and weighty vessel would throb with the unbearable longing for release, and I could not even cross my legs to ease the pressure on the downspout. I thought that at any moment I would flood my trousers like a young child and humiliate us utterly. But I could not, and I did not.” In spite of all this, I observed only the most dignified behavior from Charles, the consummate gentleman. He did not squirm or make unsavory facial expressions. He forced himself to drink the correct amount. He was quiet, but so were the rest of us who were plucked from the middle classes and intimidated by the setting. After the dessert course concluded, the men and women retired to separate drawing rooms. I nipped over to the women’s guest accommodations beforehand. The water and wine and soup I had had at dinner had run through me. I admired the women’s accommodations, which consisted of two separate water closets with doors that locked situated within a larger powder room. Another good lady came by when I was there, and the walls were such that we could not hear one another. At smaller, poorer parties I have often struggled with my toy bladder and the embarrassment of entering a water closet with men present, so I was quite taken indeed with such luxury. Charles took his entertainment and conversation with the men. He would recall: “Oh, how they made me drink! The brandy was not as hydrating as wine, but its warmth spread through my body and tempted me to relax my muscles when I could not afford to. Seated on a settee as I was, I could not even have the relief of pushing my knees together without my discomfort being noticed. I was laughing along with jokes I couldn’t even understand in that state. It was like a nightmare that would not end.” I became quite swept up in the women’s festivities, and it was around midnight when I excused myself from a game of whist to admire the water closet again. I was surprised to discover my husband moving in the opposite direction toward the drawing room. He seized my arm. “Polly, how happy am I to see you. I was just coming to speak to you,” he whispered anxiously. “Why, dear?” His brow was furrowed and his hand on my arm was trembling. “Darling, I…I need to piss,” he said. “I thought you were able to go to the water closet before dinner.” “It’s not private enough.” “Oh my goodness!” I was horrified to learn that he had not had a chance to void since the night before. “And God, I need to piss so urgently,” he whined, “You must help me. I implore you. I am at the end of my tether.” I looked into his eyes and saw how he was in physical pain and panicking from the sense that he was near to soaking his trousers in front of wealthy and influential men. I had to find a safe place for him. “If I swooned, you could take me to our room. You can use the chamber pot there,” I whispered. “I…I am sorry to ask this of you - “ “It is done. Go back among the men and hold it in for one more minute. Be assured that I am on the case!” Obviously, it was much less of a disgrace to swoon in a wasp-waist corset than to have your husband wet his pants in another’s drawing room. I returned to the society of the women, took one look about, put a hand to my forehead, and then theatrically collapsed upon a divan. “Bring the smelling salts!” I heard a matron demand of a maid. I opened my eyes and rolled them around. “No, I need my dear husband’s assistance! He has tonic for my nerves in our luggage! Please fetch me my dear Mr. M_____!” Mr. M_____ was duly fetched. He flashed pleading eyes at me. “Oh, Mr. _____, I must have my nerve tonic and be taken to bed,” I loudly proclaimed. “If you’ll excuse me, my wife has had a lot of excitement. We need to be shown to our private quarters,” Charles said. The other women, wasp-waisted and mildly drunk on sherry, looked at us in uncomplicated sympathy. I made a show of standing up woozily. The butler was brought to escort us to the guest quarters; the way was long and winding through the house. Charles’ forehead was now shining with sweat, and he winced as he walked. He later said that he was half mad knowing that relief was near after 26 hours: “from the moment you mentioned the chamber pot to me my bladder began with a deep throbbing as if being squeezed by a hand every few moments. It came in waves. It was all I could do not to double over in pain each time.” As we ascended the west wing stairs he dropped for a moment into an involuntary curtsey. He had one knee hooked behind the other and his thighs clenched together; I was grateful that the butler was ahead of us and not behind. I had never seen my iron-bladdered Charles openly show distress before. He wound an arm back to grip his calf, feigning a charley horse cramp. At the same time, I swayed back and forth, continuing to feign faintness. We were like actors upon a stage in some absurd, vulgar comedy. “Well, I suppose both of you are quite fatigued,” said the butler. “We had a long journey, and my wife has nerves.” “My nerves are atrocious!” Charles grasped my hand hard when we reached the top of the stairs. It looked like he was leading me, still playing the nervous and foolish wife, but his grip was so tight I knew that it was he who sought support and reassurance. Finally we arrived at the corridor that housed the guest rooms, and the butler unlocked one of them. “Accommodations for Mr. and Mrs. Charles M_____,” he said, gesturing for us to go inside. When the butler vanished down the hall, I locked the door from the inside. Charles pulled upward on the waistband of his trousers as hard as he could and crumpled into a half-crouch, his knees folded inward, panting as if he had run a mile through the driving snow. His tophat tumbled off onto the floor. “Help me, Polly.” I dove under the bed for the customary chamber pot, only to find that it was not there! Was there some mistake? Had it been stolen? Were the Gershwins so thoroughly modern that they forced their guests to walk into the front halls and use noisy water closets at night? Despite keeping a modern home myself back in Boston, I was outraged. Would I have to order my husband to water the carpet like a puppy just to avoid injury to his kidneys? “It’s not here!” I wailed. “It’s…it’s…oh, oh, I must have a piss. I must, I must!” he jumped from foot to foot and grabbed himself between his legs. The poor thing! “Wait here,” I said. I had had a wild idea. “Oh, wife, I can’t wait any longer! Oh, I’ll burst, ohhhhh,” he moaned pitifully, grimacing as he pushed his hands yet harder against the much-stressed dam. “Please try,” I whispered as I hurried into the hallway. I tiptoed back to a side corridor I had seen a few minutes before and discovered my prize on the buffet table: a medium-size China vase filled with cut hydrangeas. I took the flowers out and emptied the water behind the buffet, then rushed back to the room with the vase half-hidden amidst my skirts. I found poor Charles shaking with his back against the wall and his legs crossed, eyes shut tight, gulping air. There were tears upon his cheeks. I kneeled before him and nudged his legs apart. He whimpered as I unfastened his suspenders and pulled down his trousers and undergarments, exposing his quivering thighs and cunny. Above this I beheld the astonishing sight of his distended bladder protruding from his abdomen. It looked like a round, ripe melon peeking out beneath his waistcoat. “Please, wife, please…” he begged me. He cupped the swelling with his hand and bent his knees. I positioned the vase and said: “now, dear.” There was a tense moment before he could release, but then a hot golden torrent burst forth from his quim with a great hiss and splashed into the vase. I could feel the force of it through the porcelain! He rolled his eyes back and moaned deeply. Oh, how he pissed that night! I could not believe he had endured being so very full without ruining his new suit. His stream rushed and rushed, longer and thicker and fiercer than any I have ever been able to summon under the most dire of circumstances. I continued to hold the vase, happy to attend to the cessation of my husband’s agonies. At last the majestic river slowed to a trickle, and Charles pressed on his lower stomach, now flat once again, to make sure he was empty. His cheeks were flushed. His shoulders sagged with relief. “Oh my darling Polly, that’s much better. I was suffering so that I thought I would burst and die from it,” he sighed. I noticed that there were dewdrops suspended in the curled hair along the outside of his little muff. In a moment of daring, I took my handkerchief and dabbed the drops away. He laughed at the ticklish sensation. I looked into the vase and gasped, as it was half full! He must have voided two quarts [~1.9L]! Thankfully, there was still room for me to relieve myself as well - my own needs had become unexpectedly urgent upon watching my husband’s performance. He was quite amused when I lifted my skirt and started adding my waters to his. “If we must defile this vase, we shall do it together,” I said, as the tinkling sound filled the room. “Ah, but whatever are we going to do with the vase?” he asked. “Allow me.” I crept out of the door to the guest room, checking to see if the coast was clear. Then I scampered on swift but silent feet to return the vase to where it had been, placing the cut flowers in with our waters! I believed that when the smell or wilting of the flowers inevitably led to the discovery of the mischief in the morning, it would surely be blamed on some drunken boor and not anyone so prim and quiet as my husband. It was the naughtiest thing I ever did as a grown woman! After I retreated to the room, my husband wanted to make love. We had to be very quiet indeed. It was quite memorable, because it was one of the only times in ten years that he has allowed me to pet him between the legs for his pleasure. It was as if the experience of holding his water for such an excruciatingly long time had softened his defenses. I have fond memories of that night and the soft, velvety texture of his quim, which I get to touch so rarely, and which is smaller, pinker, and daintier than my own in a peculiar contrast to the general masculine cut of his jib. In the morning, the vase was empty and cleaned. A servant must have found it and disposed of its contents without comment. An announcement was made at breakfast: our hosts apologized for the absence of chamber pots in our rooms the previous night, and any inconvenience this may have caused. It was the fault of the servants. The pots were being replaced at that very moment. Charles and I were silent conspirators for the rest of the meal, exchanging a lot of smirking looks as Mr. Gershwin droned on and on about croquet and the discovery of gold in the Klondike. I noticed that Charles stole away to our room several times that day. He whispered to me that his bladder was “exhausted.” I felt so sorry for him, and yet so impressed by what he had accomplished under duress. Not many people can say they have gone from nine one night to midnight the next without passing urine through sheer determination. Thankfully, he sustained no lasting damage to his system as a result of this test, and was able to keep his cunny sealed tight for the duration of our return journey two days later.
  5. So like, I don't think this will get much attention, but here goes nothing. Hopefully I can finish this story before I start to regret mentioning it. I am very self-conscious. To begin, I'll state a bit of my physical appearance. I am about 5'5, 125 pounds, and have brown hair. I'm a guy, but I have something of a feminine appearance and I crossdress sometimes. However, this isn't the entire focus of this story. Today, I went to class as usual. I didn't use the toilet when I woke up this morning, and instead threw on a shirt and a pair of jeans designated for my gender, and went on my way. Because of my hobby, I usually tend to wear panties underneath as well. Usually my shirt is long enough to cover my butt, so I don't need to worry about panty lines showing through my jeans. It adds a bit of a thrill. I bought a large cold brew coffee on the way and was sipping it during the entire lecture. I wasn't planning anything by this point, but being the diuretic it is, I really had to go pee afterwards. Lecture was being held off campus, and because I had to see my advisor afterwards, I drove to campus and used the toilets there after lecture was over. I was feeling very much relieved by then, and was able to concentrate and finish my business before returning home. I still had some coffee left over when I returned home, and I busied myself with preparing a group presentation that was due in a couple of days. I became so engrossed in my task that I had completely neglected to actually eat something. Instead, I continued to sip on my coffee, and took some breaks in between. Unintentionally, I also grabbed some water and had some of that as well. I was watching some of my friends' streams on Twitch afterwards, and in this fashion, the day quickly passed by without me noticing it. Eventually, I finished my coffee. Suddenly, I felt a twinge in my bladder. It was that familiar feeling where you realize you can go pee, but you really don't need to. I was pretty comfortable reclining in my chair and chatting with my friends as I watched the streamer make progress in his Breath of the Wild speedrun, so of course, I had no intentions of getting up to relieve myself. But I also realized I was pretty hungry. When he was done, I made a sigh of relief and thought about getting ready to go outside and get something to eat. I noticed that I was building pressure in my bladder noticeably fast and thought to myself if I should have a little fun. At the time, I estimated that if I left to get food, I could possibly risk wetting myself on the way back. I intended to walk, as the restaurant wasn't very far away. So, I looked around for coupons as I made up my mind. I have a few diapers of different kinds. Personally, I like the pull-up kind, and don't really like the large, bulky diapers with tabs on the size due to how noticeable they can be through clothing. Lately, I've been wearing the Always Discrete types, which are marketed as incontinence underwear. As I looked through my secret box while I was getting ready, however, I found that they were all gone. I was in disbelief for a moment, and contemplated risking the trip without wearing protection, until I discovered the only remaining baby diaper I had in my possession. Would this even fit me? I haven't exactly gained weight and my waist hasn't gotten larger since I remember getting them. It was a tight fit and the tabs were hanging on to their dear lives. Oh man, I was worried that they might come loose the moment I started walking, so to at least keep it somewhat in place, I wore relatively tighter panties over it, put on my same clothes from earlier, and sheepishly went out. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. I've been building up sexual urges since a long while now and maybe this was me just acting foolishly on them. Whatever. I get to the restaurant and order my beef bowl. I couldn't believe it. The size 5 Pampers I was wearing at that moment were still firmly attached and hugging my body. Possibly out of anxiety, I didn't start leaking in them. I really had to pee at this moment but I was beginning to feel more in control of the situation. I was lost in my thoughts, and when the cashier asked me for my order, it startled me and I briefly lost control for a second. I felt a warm stream escape my body and I felt my face flush intensely. I don't think I could have reacted in a worse fashion, and I averted my eyes from her gaze as I shyly made my order. I finally stopped peeing and reached into my wallet to pay her the amount and hand her the coupon. She asked me what was wrong, to which I replied, "nothing," that I had a small cold I was still getting over, and that I was fine. She threw me a disconcerting look, and handed me my change. It's unfortunate, but I guess I won't be returning there for a while. I got soda water and left to sit at a table where she wouldn't be able to observe me. I made a careful effort while sitting down so as to not cause the tabs of the diaper to come undone. Then, I began to eat. I distracted myself with social media and before I knew it, I was on my way out again. I was feeling more buildup in my bladder now, but assured myself that walking would take my mind off it. The night was getting colder, and it definitely made me more desperate. My walking became more stiff, moving in shorter strides, and I added more haste to my movements. When waiting at stop lights or for cars to pass, I couldn't help but dribble a little in my diaper. I looked around first, and discretely shifted my legs a little to regain some control. This intense self-consciousness was driving me insane. But there was something about all this nervousness and anxiety that was having the most arousing sensation in me. Anyway, I return home. I remained relatively dry and decided to change clothes again. I changed into the clothes pictured in the images below, and as you might have assumed, also padded my chest some. I accomplish cleavage by wearing a bra made up of pasties, (I'm not sure what it's called exactly) wearing a push-up bra, and stuffing it with pads inside. Bringing my arms together squishes the sides of my chest, adding to the illusion. After posing quickly for those images, I moved in front of my mirror and slowly released into my diaper. I let go in small spurts, waited for the diaper to absorb it all, and then let go again. In this way, several minutes passed, and I was pretty amazed at how much this little diaper could hold it all. I really didn't feel like wetting my jeans, as I was lazy and didn't see myself doing laundry anytime soon. I felt the warm urine pool between my legs and work its way up my butt. As the diaper continued to swell, I felt the liquid work its way through the sides of the diaper more and more each time. And then, it happened. I saw a small wet patch appear and grow slowly on the crotch of my jeans. I decided to stop, and take them off. The gusset of my panties were soaking wet. I guess that's why the diaper didn't leak through my pants much sooner. Then, I decided to make my way to the shower, and took my panties and my jeans off. The weight of the diaper caused part of the front panel to detach from the right tab, but somehow still held in place. I supported it with my right hand and continued to relieve myself in my diaper. It continued to swell even more and small drops of pee made their way down my legs, one at a time. I imagined talking to a girl who was wearing a skirt with a diaper underneath... What if while talking to her, she was peeing in her diaper, to the point where it had started to leak, and tiny droplets of urine made their way slowly down her legs. She'd continue to speak nonchalantly, making as if I wouldn't notice. I got myself off to this scenario. A man can dream, I guess. I sat in the bathtub, and so much urine squished out in that instant. I grabbed myself from the front and enjoyed myself as I squeezed. Then, I laid for a good while, feeling satisfied and relieved from what I had done. However, it didn't take long before sitting in my own puddle of pee began to feel really cold and clammy, much less the remorse that was beginning to overtake my mind. It's tough being into this kind of thing, sometimes. You become self-aware that the shit you're into is considered degenerate by so many people, and that ostracization from them is likely should they ever became aware of what your kinks truly are. When I was done, I removed my diaper, put it in a plastic bag, and rinsed myself off with soap and water. Then, I dried myself before putting on a clean pair of panties and leggings before writing this story. Often, when I pass by a girl while walking, I wonder to myself what are the odds that that person is like me and wears diapers for pleasure. I sometimes wish I had a way to know, and even more so wish I could somehow approach them. Thank you for reading! P.S. Maybe I should look into getting those Goodnites for girls next. I've heard the waistband is quite stretchy, making for a more comfortable fit.
  6. View File Transgender/crossdressing pee compilation Collection of trangender and otherwise crossdressing desperation and wetting clips. Submitter 5rhg Submitted 06/11/2017 Category Desperation Clothing
  7. Ok this might just be a totally wierd and silly question for a woman cause its an unusual thing for a heterosexual guy to be like but whatever. I am who I am and proud of it! As stated in my first post, I am a dedicated crossdresser. I am straight and completely happy as a man and embrace it well, but at the same time I also have the emotions of a woman, a good eye for colors and fashion. I invested alot of money on feminine items. Silicone breasts, silicone butt/hips, makeup, jewels, lingerie, dresses, leggings, high heels, etc, all except a wig cause I love long hair and keep my legnth past my shoulders. Some women told me i can seriously pass as a girl. I walk and speak like one pretty well too. Anyways, I noticed some women here explain that, although straight, seeing another woman desperate/wetting finds it cute, but seeing a man desperate is a turn off. To be completely honest, I can see why they think that, due to her squirmy movements, noises she makes, and the clothes she wets. Lately I began combining my holdings/wettings with crossdressing, and I must say it triples the pleasure of it all. I squirm, shake and moan like a girl while holding myself and act out humiliation when I have an accident. So this brings me back to the original question. Would you like watching a guy dress and act like a full female while desperate/wetting? I guess its ok if not. I was just curious to see if women were actually open to these kind of guys. I wouldn't expect any woman to find it hot that a guy has female in him
  8. Author's Note: So waaaaaay back in 2015 I did a poll to choose what story I would write. Three out of four of them were completed in some form, but I totally forgot about the last one. That is, until @JTeam_ reminded me. It's been long enough, so here it is. ------------------------------------------------------------- It was the middle of June, and it was certainly a hot one. On a day like this, there was nothing better to do than relax in a nice refreshing pool. And that’s exactly what Kelly Clarke and her friend Jenny Matthews were doing. Kelly surfaced, the water quickly drying from her skin. Jenny popped up shortly after and let out a contented sigh. “I don’t know about you, Kel, but I could stay in here all day.” “Same here,” replied Kelly. “Thanks again for inviting me over.” “Aw, it was nothing,” said Jenny. Kelly floated on her back and gazed up at the clouds. “I can’t believe we have to go back to school tomorrow. It’s summer! We should be free!” “It must be ‘cause of all those snow days we had,” commented Jenny. “We have to make up for them sometime.” “Keeping us this late qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment,” Kelly grumbled. “It’s total bullshit.” “Language,” Jenny chastised. “Aw, c’mon,” laughed Kelly. She playfully dunked Jenny underwater. “Hey!” cried Jenny as she came up. “What was that for?” “You need to learn to lighten up,” said Kelly. Jenny frowned and wrung the water out of her long black hair. “I’ll lighten up,” she said, “once our finals are over.” “Why did you have to remind me of that?” groaned Kelly. “Those aren’t for another two weeks!” “That may be,” said Jenny, “but it’s never too early to start studying! I’m feeling confident about history and biology, but I still need to brush up on algebra and-” No stopping her now, thought Kelly. Once she gets talking about her studies, she can keep going for hours. As she sat back and listened to her friend, Kelly felt a pressure building in her bladder. “-but if I get a C or better,” Jenny continued, “then I should still be able to-” “Hold that thought, Jen,” Kelly interrupted. “I gotta go pee.” She got out of the pool and headed for the door, but Jenny suddenly grabbed her arm. “Wait!” cried Jenny. “My mother will throw a fit if you track water into the house. Dry yourself off first.” Kelly crossed her legs and fidgeted. “I don’t think I can hold it that long.” “Now that you mention it, I have to go too,” Jenny admitted. “And I don’t think I can wait either.” “Wait a minute,” said Kelly. “We’re alone out here, aren’t we? Why don’t we just pee in the bushes?” “What...but...I can’t… I never,” Jenny stammered. “I-I’ve never peed outside before!” “Then there’s no better time to start!” argued Kelly. “Unless you have a better idea?” “No,” admitted Jenny. “All right, let’s just do this.” The two girls made their way over to the row of bushes blocking Jenny’s yard from her neighbors. Jenny squatted down, but kept looking around nervously. Eventually, a weak stream trickled from her swimsuit down onto the dirt. Jenny sighed in relief and turned to see Kelly standing with her bikini bottoms around her ankles. “What are you doing?” asked Jenny, blushing at her friend’s boldness. “Aren’t you going to, you know, squat?” “No way,” Kelly replied. “I’m gonna do it standing up!” “What?” cried Jenny “You can’t do that; you’re not a boy.” “Aw, it’s easy,” scoffed Kelly. “Watch and learn.” Jenny couldn’t help but look as Kelly bent her knees slightly. “First,” said Kelly, “you have to bend your knees and spread your legs a little. Kinda like you’re riding a horse. Next, you gotta lean back just a little.” With her right hand, Kelly made a V-sign and placed it on her crotch. “Now comes the tricky part,” she continued. “You take two fingers and spread your… girly bits.” Kelly gave a sly wink at that that last part as she opened up the folds of her labia. She could feel the pressure in her bladder getting even worse, and knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. “Then…” Kelly paused for dramatic effect and relaxed her bladder, letting the huge amount of liquid inside her take its natural course. “You pee!” she finished as a pale stream flowed from between her legs, forming an arc and soaking the leaves on the bushes. With her stream going strong, Kelly decided to put on a real show. “If you pull up a little,” she explained, “you can get it even higher!” Sure enough, as Kelly maneuvered her fingers, her pee arced over the top of the bushes, splashing the highest leaves. As her bladder emptied, Kelly’s pee stream gradually weakened lost height, eventually spurting out its last drops onto the ground. She pulled her bikini back up, admiring the height she had reached. “So, what do you think?” she asked. Despite herself, Jenny laughed. “That was certainly impressive,” she giggled. “You looked kind of like a boy!” Jenny immediately realized her mistake. Though not much bothered her best friend, being called a boy was a notable exception. Between her tomboyish behavior, short hair and flat chest, Kelly was often teased in that manner. Understandably, she was sick of it. “I-I’m so sorry!” stammered Jenny. “I didn’t mean it!” Instead of looking upset, however, Kelly had a mischievous grin on her face, the same one she got whenever she had an idea. “Say that again,” she said. “You looked kind of like a boy?” Jenny repeated nervously. “Exactly!” shouted Kelly. “And if people didn’t know better, they might actually mistake me for one!” “Oh no,” said Jenny, starting to see where this was going. “Oh yes,” said Kelly. “I’m gonna go to school tomorrow disguised as a boy!” “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kelly,” Jenny cautioned, but her friend wasn’t listening. “Let’s see,” said Kelly, pacing as she thought, “you have a brother, right? I could wear some of his clothes. And my mom will be at a meeting tomorrow morning; she’ll have no idea! It all works out perfectly! I can hang out with new guys, talk trash, and use the boys’ bathroom! What do you say? Will you help me out? Please?” Jenny sighed. Once Kelly had an idea in her head, there was no stopping her. “Fine. Meet me at my house before school starts.” “Thank you!” cried Kelly, hugging her friend tightly. “This is gonna be epic.” The next morning, Kelly showed up bright and early. Jenny brought her up to her room and handed her a t-shirt, a pair of cargo shorts, and a baseball cap “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” asked Jenny as her friend changed clothes. “Absolutely,” Kelly replied. “Now tell me, how do I look?” If they hadn’t been friends since preschool, Jenny honestly could have mistaken Kelly for a boy then. Her clothes were wrinkled and stained, and were loose enough to hide any trace of a feminine figure. The baseball cap hung low over her face, preventing anyone from getting a good look at it. “This might actually work,” Jenny admitted. “Told you it was a good idea!” Kelly cheered. “I didn’t say that,” Jenny cautioned. “You could still get in big-” “The bus is here!” Kelly interrupted, and the two girls broke off their conversation so they wouldn’t be left behind. On the bus, Kelly and Jenny split up so as not to arouse suspicion. Jenny sat down with some of her other friends, while Kelly headed for a noisy group of boys at the back. She had to see if her disguise worked, after all. “No way!” one of the boys was yelling. “She’s not into you!” “Is too!” a second boy protested. “Who are we talkin’ about?” asked Kelly, putting on a slightly deeper voice. “Nicole Taylor,” said the first boy. “Joseph here thinks she likes him.” “Honestly, I pity him,” sneered a third boy. “Nicole’s a total bitch.” “She is not!” Joseph protested. “Shut up, Nathan!” “Ah, I guess it could be worse,” said Nathan. “You could have some total freak crushing on you. Like that Kelly Clarke girl.” Kelly felt a pit form in her stomach. “Who?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice neutral. “Man, you seriously haven’t heard of her?” asked Nathan incredulously. “She’s this weird girl who totally looks like a dude. Acts like one too. It’s no wonder she’s got no friends.” Kelly felt her blood boil. She had been insulted before, but this time she decided she would do something about it. After all, nobody could tell it was really her. She considered punching him, but then she would get in trouble and her secret would be revealed. For now, Kelly laughed along with the boys and made a mental note to get revenge later. Kelly had English class first thing that morning. She sat in the back, far away from her usual place. English was usually one of the few classes Kelly actually liked, but today she couldn’t focus. This hasn’t been as much fun as I thought it would be, she thought as she absent-mindedly doodled on her worksheet. I’ve hung out with guys and talked trash, both of which sucked. The only thing that’s left is- “Young man, please pay attention!” Kelly looked up to see the teacher standing in front of her desk. Other students were starting to stare at her. Not wanting so much attention on her, Kelly gave the first excuse she could think of. “Sorry, ma’am,” she mumbled. “I really have to use the bathroom; I couldn’t focus.” “Then go,” said the teacher, and Kelly gratefully took the opportunity to race out of the room. Her initial plan had been to just hide until the class was over, but as Kelly walked down the hallways she realized she really did have to use the bathroom pretty badly. She had been so busy getting dressed that morning that she had neglected to take her usual morning pee. Kelly made her way to the bathrooms and saw something unusual: a line of boys outside the girls’ room. “What’s going on here?” she asked the boy at the end of the line. He turned to answer and Kelly recognized him as Nathan, the jerk from that morning. “The boys’ bathroom is out of order,” Nathan explained. “Some of us are using the girls’ bathroom, others are going in the bushes behind the school.” He crossed his legs and fidgeted. “Speaking of which, that’s what I’m gonna do. I had a whole can of Red Bull before class.” As Nathan walked out the door, a lightbulb went off in Kelly’s head. The perfect revenge plot had just come to mind. “Wait up!” she called, running after Nathan. Kelly found him outside heading for the bushes. She could see a few boys standing behind them, expressions of relief on their faces. She considered trying to sneak a peek, but decided revenge was more important. Kelly tailed Nathan as he stopped by the farthest bush and unzipped his fly. “Hey,” she said, walking up beside him. Luckily he hadn’t started peeing yet. “What do you want?” snapped Nathan. “Betcha I can pee farther than you!” Kelly taunted. “What the hell?” cried Nathan. “Are you crazy?” “You heard me,” said Kelly. “Are you too big a pussy to accept?” “You’re on!” yelled Nathan, going red in the face. Kelly unzipped her shorts and turned slightly to the side so as not to reveal anything to Nathan. She made a v-sign and spread her privates as she had earlier. “Ready, set, pee!” she announced. Kelly let her bladder relax and a powerful stream flowed out of her. Her pee was reaching a good distance, so she turned to see how Nathan was doing. She grinned when she saw he wasn’t reaching nearly as far as she was. “It’s not over yet!” Nathan yelled, and Kelly saw him aim his penis upwards to get more distance. Kelly could feel that her bladder was nearly empty, but she was determined to win. She gave her hips a powerful thrust and the last few drops of her pee flew several feet. Beside her, Nathan stopped peeing as well. By now, several of the other boys had gathered to see the results of the contest. And from the dark stains on the dirt, the results were clear: Kelly had peed much farther than Nathan. “Haha! I win!” cheered Kelly. “So?” Nathan replied, zipping up his fly. “What’s the big deal?” “‘What’s the big deal?’” Kelly mocked. “This is the big deal!” With that, Kelly turned, dropped her pants and exposed her vagina to the crowd of boys. The initial reaction was stunned silence. Some of the boys looked away, others couldn’t conceal their grins. Then one of them spoke up. “Dude, you lost a peeing contest to a girl?” “Shut up!” yelled a red-faced Nathan, but he was drowned out by a chorus of laughter, with nobody laughing harder than Kelly herself. She was having the time of her life until one of the boys asked, “Hey, who is she anyway?” At that, Kelly ran for it. Jenny had been right; Kelly did get in trouble. She hadn’t dared go back to school that day, so that was a week’s detention. Totally worth it, she thought as she served the first detention. Nobody found out and I got to show up that jerk. It was a lot of fun, but I don’t think I’ll do it again. This memory will last me a lifetime.
  9. View File Porch Skirt Wetting It's funny that for many this is considered 'crossdressing' (hence the tag) but really I feel like these outfits do as much to honor my masculine energy as they do my feminine. Also- it may be a stretch to call this a 'public' video; but, given that I had a light source on me and a close proximity to the public alley way next to my porch (partially shrouded by a rose bush), I was definitely wary of folks walking by! Enjoy Submitter themerger Submitted 06/30/2019 Category Desperation Clothing Skirt
  10. Hello everyone~ I was debating whether I should have submitted this experience in a first person view or third-person view. I eventually decided to go with a third-person view. The events are real, but I referred to myself as "Sanae", since I feel it goes better the experience I've had. Sanae knew that it has been a very long time since she had shown any sort of activity, but since Spring Break is around the corner, and she got more free time, it would be the perfect moment to indulge in wet, fun experiences ;) So, she brings you a story that she had experienced today, just because she can't let moments like these pass up. These are the perfect opportunities~! Alrighty, let's begin, shall we~? It all starts 16 hours ago, when she started watching fun videos (namely a playthrough of Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door Extreme Randomiser, for whoever knows it!), and she had with her a few drinks, including blue pop, water, and an energy drink. As the night wore on, she didn't think much about the drinks she had, as she was finishing to watch that playthrough. She stayed up for maybe about 2.5 more hours before going to sleep, not using the washroom before sleeping. Skip ahead to this afternoon (she slept quite late, about 4am or so). She woke up at about 8 hours later, with a decently full bladder. It was more or less to the point where she'd normally start looking for a washroom in public; about a 5.5/10. No problems so far. For the next 20 minutes or so, she was watching a few topics here in OmoOrg. A few stories inspired her to do this hold, such as https://www.omorashi.org/forums/topic/42492-watering-plants-isnt-just-for-guys/, and https://www.omorashi.org/forums/topic/42467-a-trans-woman’s-very-public-accident-and-a-very-validating-experience/. (Shoutouts to the authors of each of the stories! ^u^) These topics kinda motivated her a bit more to indulge in a nice, desperate wetting this afternoon, even moreso because her roommate had already left for Spring Break the day prior, and she hadn't been active in a few months. Her mind started racing and a few naughty thoughts came to mind... She eventually decided that she was going to try holding until the twenty hour mark (that's a very 'realistic' goal, Sanae-chan... You know you can't go that far! >\\\<). And, she started drinking half a bottle of water that she had from yesterday, as well as another bottle of blue pop, yet another water bottle, and the energy drink that she hadn't consumed yesterday. This was was about 2 hours after she woke up. Needless to mention, she felt tingly down there... >\\\> And now, as she waited for the drinks to do their magic, she started playing phone games, such as Clash of Clans and F/GO, to distract herself from her rapidly filling bladder (then at a 6.5/10). She slowly starts getting more desperate... And that desperation led her to ask for more of this experience... She decided that she would choose her favourite outfit to wet, hehe~ It was this blue, long cotton dress that she usually wears to bed, along with cute white bloomers, lacy tights, and black/blue striped panties. Pretty comfy, pretty naughty, pretty cute~ She waits for another hour or so, and she starts to get quite desperate, at about a 7.8/10. She could start feeling a dull ache in her abdomen, as well as a dull sting on her urethra. This was at about 14 hours in or so. In total, those drinks must have been about 1.3L of fluids. Slowly but surely, Sanae gets even more desperate. She starts getting squirmy. Her bladder starts begging for release at the 14 hour mark. (8.5/10) As she was getting highly uncomfortable holding this full bladder, she decided to let off a 5 second spurt on the toilet. Phew~ A small feel of bliss, and the pressure was temporarily gone. With newfound confidence, she thought she could make it to the 16 hour mark without too many problems. But she... had overestimated herself yet again. To try take off the edge of her desperation, she tried to masturbate a little, and distract her mind of the aching desire she desperately needed... But, it actually it made it worse! (ufufufu~ Y-Yes, I know... =3=) She was touching her rock-hard bladder every so often, each light poke sending jolts across her urethra and her body. It felt so good, she didn't want to stop, but eventually stopped out of fear she'd wet the couch she was sitting in. 15 hours in. She's trembling, and her bladder muscles are complaining more since that short-lived feeling of bliss. Now at a solid 9/10, she knew that even reaching the 15 hour mark would be a stretch, but she held on for dear life. She then tried to watch even more videos (this time an F-Zero playthrough, a high-speed futuristic racing game). The reason why she usually watched this game was because it helped her distract herself very well, since it is quite intense and fast-paced, thus, she had to keep focusing to watch what happens. But, alas, even her aching bladder could only take so much. When she started watching the playthrough she was at a 9.5/10. She knew she had little time left in her, and she tried to go on for as long as she could. Her bladder muscles were trembling, her bladder trying to push all that ocean of pee out of her. She did her best, trying to hold her groin, trying to sit straight (since it helps her), and breathe in a controlled way. But even then... At the 15.75 hour mark, she felt the smallest spurt going into her panties, and knew that at that point, she wasn't going to keep going to the 16 hour mark, as much as she tried. So, still leaking, she got into position (the place that she lives in has carpeting in her room, so she had to resort to the living room, with all windows closed, of course), and the little setup she had made to contain the accident, which consisted of two towels to absorb anything she gushes, and a pair of socks to not wet the footwear she wore too much. She got into position, and at 15.8 hours, she couldn't take it any longer. Slowly, a few spurts started coming in waves, before the dam broke, and started pouring a torrent all over her dress, bloomers, tights, and panties. It rapidly spread down her legs, and bloomers, as she felt the most powerful form of bliss that she could ever experience. "AAAAHHHHHH~ <3" As slowly but surely her bladder relaxed, and let out all the ocean filled within her, she went for about minute and a half before stopping. She was in Nirvana during that short time; she was moaning, and in ecstasy, enjoying every second; every millisecond of it. As the river stopped flowing, she felt so calm, so relaxed, so naughty. She decided to linger in her wet clothes for a while longer, all while enjoying the feeling of said wet clothes and the salty, slightly sweet scent of her own pee ;) She still felt she had a little bit within her, but she couldn't let it out just yet. Although, because she was painfully horny, she played with herself again to try and help the desperation get to her a bit faster. All of this pleasure was quite overwhelming, and seconds seemed like minutes. After 15 minutes had elapsed, she finally came back to reality, wondering where those 15 minutes had gone. She surely was completely out there, if 15 minutes felt like 5, hahaha~ Ah well. She was still waiting for another wave of desperation to hit her, however small, so she could finally be completely empty. Another wave of desperation came about an hour later, and she decided, since she was quite soaked anyway, she should just let go what was left into herself. She went yet again for about 30 seconds, with even more some sweet moans of relief. <3 And after that, her desires had finally been sated, and then she cleaned up, showered, and rested a little, still intoxicated from the sheer amount of pleasure she experienced. And now, after this joyous adventure, she is writing about it in OmoOrg, along with some bonus pictures~ This was my story about how a typical Saturday afternoon turned into a magical, naughty Saturday, from a third-person point of view. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did making it~! With love, a very desperate Sanae.
  11. So ive been wanting to discuss the topic of crossdressing guys since I noticed a handful here including myself. When did you start or have the desire to do it and why? How far do you go with it and how often do you do it? Does your girl/partner accept it or support it? For me ive had fascination and curiosity with girly stuff as early as I can remember. When I was little, ive had vague dreams of wearing girl clothes and it feeling so good. I used to like touching girly things in stores and got scolded for it, then cried hysterically lol. I never actually did it until Halloween '15 where my friends suggested as a joke to dress as Princess Peach cause of my long blonde hair and blue eyes. And of course I did it and people thought it was awesome. I go all the way with it. Dresses, makeup & jewels, breast & hip forms, etc. I do it once in awhile, sometimes at parties or at home by myself. It feels very mentally theraputic for me to express my womanly side. I wish I had the time to do it more often. I am currently single but my past few girlfriends HATED it and used it against me. Being emotionally sensitive and getting nervous during sex made them assume I was gay and refused to believe I wasn't. I hope I can meet a girl someday that understands me for real, hates gender sexism and roles like me, would adore what I do, and support it and encourage it.
  12. So, I recently got a pair of what I'm pretty sure are female athletic shorts (I've never tried anything like this before but have always wanted to). Grey, not super tight, fairly short, and really fun to wet. And yesterday was perfect for a hold. So, wearing these shorts and some blue boxer briefs underneath, I set some protection on my chair, drank a big soda and two big cups of green tea, and once I had to pee pretty badly, I went onto the Live Action Omo thread and asked for some challenges. No one came on, so when I really had to go, I sat with my legs spread and held my breath, which seems to put pressure on my bladder and make me leak. But this time it made me wet my shorts all the way. This was the first time I involuntarily wet all the way (though technically I forced it so it wasn't entirely involuntary but you know what I mean, I didn't make the usual motion with my holding muscles). It was pretty fun, and I think it helped too that earlier that day I had held it for quite some time, though not to bursting point, and must have peed for almost a minute (into the toilet with my pants down that time). After that I sat in my wet shorts and drank another soda, and later, an alcoholic beverage. I peed in my shorts six more times that night, and the last two times might've been less clear pee, as they were starting to smell a little. I didn't wash them when I showered and changed afterwards. This morning I took my morning pee in those shorts again. I can only imagine how they'll smell next time I put them on to wet them. So far that's eight wettings in a row. I'll wet them in moderation for a while so as to not get potty untrained.
  13. So I have recently begun speaking with a lady on pocketstars who is very sexy and understanding indeed. I mentioned to her that it was my fantasy to be told to dress in a leotard and tights like a ballerina and forced to hold until I either wet myself or mistress instructed me to pee. Well I was encouraged to order said items and mistress informed me that she would indulge my whim. I ordered away and the items arrived. I wasn’t allowed to cum until the day and not after the event. This was some 5 days of waiting. I can’t tell you the feeling I had as I slipped on the tights and Leo for the first time. I informed mistress the costume has arrived and was duly instructed to bring filling up and I complied obediently. After what was about 2 hours I’d finished maybe 4 litres of water and was about to explode let alone piss myself. Still no word from mistress as to what I was supposed to do - was she waiting for me to have an accident and make a grovelling confession to her? Then out of the blue came an apology, she had been busy with other things and had forgotten all about me- I was then instructed that I could go. I asked how much? A little? All of it? “Just soak yourself” came the reply. “And don’t think about cumming until you send me the picture of you in your wet tights.” My word. These instructions shot through me like electricity and I obediently began soaking my tights and leotard with my hot, pent up pee. It seemed like an age before I had finished and could compose myself to send the image across that would release me from my chastity. mistress was indeed pleased and informed me that I could finish myself and to send her the evidence of that as well. I have to say it was one of the best mornings of my life and I’d love to be encouraged to crossdress and wet again. I thoroughly recommend the experience of having someone else instruct you when and how much to wet. Hope to speak with like minded people interested in this sort of thing and people interested in making others wet. here’s the evidence all the best, Dan
  14. Kitty made me dress in tights and leotard and hold my morning pee until I could take it no longer and begged her to let me go. Of course the catch was it had to be through my tights and leotard onto towels in my bedroom
  15. This is one of my favourite childhood wetting experiences that I've been remembering a lot recently. It involves 2 friends of mine which for respect for their privacy I will refer to them in this story as Luke and John. I was in the 11th grade and 17 at the time. Luke was in the 11th grade with me but was 18 and John was 19 and in 12th grade. On this particular school day we had made plans to get together after school to check out this abandoned house in a forest near my house in Markham. I had already been into wetting and cross dressing since I was young and I would do planned holds at school but never wet usually until I was in private either at home or sometimes on my way home. On the morning of this day I decided to wear red girls panties, cotton with the athletic waist along with some pink fishnets underneath some girls skin tight blue jeans and a grey short sleeved girls top. Also some DC skater shoes with no socks. You couldn't really see the fishnets so the look could technically pass as a boy, like an emo or fem kind of boy, but anyone could pretty much tell I was wearing girls clothing. This whole thing was extremely exciting for me and I hadn't touched myself or orgasmed in several days. In the morning I had several glasses of water and relieved myself at the beginning of the day but decided I would hold the rest of the day to add to my cross dressing excitement. I spent most of the day distracted in class, thinking more about how naughty it felt to be at school in girls clothes and wasn't paying much attention to the lessons. John, Luke and I all had the same lunch so we met up and went to the bagel shop and each had some coffee before heading back to class. I had a crush on both Luke and John. Today John was wearing blue jeans and skater shoes and white socks (just above the ankle) with a kind of tight grey t-shirt and Luke was wearing a black tank top with blue jeans and skater shoes with no socks (this was a huge turn-on for me because I also have a foot fetish; this was my favourite look that Luke wore because I also have an armpit fetish and the tank top let me scope his sexy armpit hair whenever he lifted his arms). Both these guys are clean shaven with very little body hair except around the crotch, underarms and a bit of treasure trail. My favourite. I was completely shaved head to toe except for my long girly hair and sculpted eyebrows. So when I saw Luke wearing my favourite outfit with no socks and me being cross dressed and building up for several days, I almost exploded right there in my cute little red panties. John was wearing grey cotton boxer briefs and Luke was going commando (it will become clear later how I came to discover this). I felt a spurt shoot out of my penis and a wet patch form in my crotch but managed compose myself and keep my excitement contained throughout lunch. However I did quite enjoy the thrill of reaching my hand down to feel the wet spot on my panties whenever no one was looking. After lunch we went back to class and I was starting to feel pretty desperate between the coffee and keeping well hydrated with water throughout the day. By the end of the day I was practically bursting. Among the most desperate I've ever felt but the class was held back a few minutes to finish the lesson and by the time I got out into the hall there was a lineup at all 3 of the washrooms between my class and the atrium where I was meeting Luke and John. When I got to the atrium Luke was already there waiting and he could sense my discomfort. "I have to piss worse than I've ever had to pee in my life," I told him, "but all 3 washrooms on the west side of school have lines and so does the one in the cafeteria." Luke admitted he had to pee also but not quite as bad. About a minute or two later John came down the stairs into the atrium looking not too dissimilar from me and exclaimed he was on the verge of pissing his pants. Now it was a pretty humid day and the armpits of his tight grey shirt had become soaked with sweat. Upon seeing this and hearing him describe the imagery of him potentially pissing his pants, my arousal shot through the roof once again and I felt my whole body tense up. I was feeling so naughty and excited from the girls clothes and being on the verge of wetting myself that I was almost certain I was going to have an orgasm right there in front of my friends and whole school. I started breathing heavily, I felt one spurt of hot semen jet out of my penis... then another... then... *phew* I caught my breath. I managed to stop myself from completely going over the edge. I was still a little embarrassed about how naughty and public everything felt and I turned pretty red. Luke asked if I was okay, John was too distracted by his need to pee. I shyly said I was fine and John said the east half of the schools bathrooms all had lines too so I said we had better just hurry to my place and we could all pee there before going to check out the abandoned house in the forest. We started walking quite briskly back to my house but it was a good 30 minutes away. The wet patch in my crotch felt pretty big and I wondered if it had leaked through my jeans but didn't dare look out of embarrassment. The wet patch teased at my dick and made it more difficult to hold my urine in my now swollen and near-bursting bladder but the arousal and the naughtiness of what had just occurred helped keep my mind off it. I remember every time I thought I was about to lose control I would send my mind back to how sexy I thought it was that Luke was wearing sneakers with no socks and think about his sweaty bare feet in those shoes. Finally we made it around the corner to my street and if I was at an 11/10 before, seeing my house made it shoot up to a 15. The 3 of us pretty much gave up walking at this point in favour of a full on sprint to my door, all the while declaring to each other which washroom we were going to run to. We run up my porch and slam into the door. I push the handle down... locked. Of course! I feel a gush a pee flood into my crotch and I squeeze my legs together and start running on the spot to stem the flow while I whip my backpack off and begin trying to dig through it for my keys. I managed stop peeing for a moment but once standing still again, trying to focus on digging through my backpack was just too much. Another deluge of pee filled my crotch, completely soaking my red cotton panties and spreading a dark patch wider and wider across my skinny jeans. The warmth spread into my butt cheeks and down my legs. The relief was indescribable. I must have had the biggest ahegao face my friends had ever seen. I shoved my hands into my crotch to attempt to stop the flow but it just burst through and I dropped to my knees and just completely let go in front of them. This might have been the greatest feeling in my life, certainly up until that point. The warm piss gushing out of me like a torrent, spreading through the panties and soaking the jeans completely down my legs and knees. The tingling of my toes in my fishnets and sweaty bare feet in the soft sneakers. My hands, still gripping my crotch began to instinctively squeeze as my hips thrust into them. Part of me was embarrassed about doing this in front of my friends but I was so overcome with pleasure that the animal instinct just took over and there was no stopping me. As if this wasn't enough, the sight of my relief became too much for John to handle, also seeing that I was no longer capable of getting my keys. A dark blue patch began to grow and spread around John's crotch. He squeezed his legs together and grabbed his junk in desperation but the wetness just kept spreading through his jeans, soaking his grey boxer briefs, down his legs, into his shoes and socks. All of this right in front of me and at eye level as I was now on my knees. I was in absolute heaven. John let out a huge sigh of relief but kept his hands in his crotch and legs together for the duration of his wetting even as a massive puddle formed at his feet and began to merge with my own. I think he still felt like he needed to give the impression that he was still trying to hold back at least until Luke looked at us both and said, "Well I might as well skip the toilet as well. You two look like you're having way too much fun anyway for me not to try this." (Luke had always been the experimental type and although he was straight, he and I often experimented together with different things). Luke being the only one who didn't burst uncontrollably just casually stood there and enjoyed the feeling as a smile spread across his face and his blue jeans grew dark and wet. He grabbed his crotch and moved his dick around to get a nice even spread and just enjoy the overall experience. Luke's casual attitude made John finally give up on maintaining the illusion of still trying to hold back and he relaxed and let the pleasure wash over him as a smile grew across his face. So there we all were. Me, cross dressed and with my two crushes in front of me. All wetting ourselves in front of each other and feeling a mix of pleasure, excitement, embarrassment and adventure. As my two comrades continued to empty their bladders I took satisfaction in the sight of seeing Luke's shoes fill with piss as it ran down his legs and covered his feet. I watched as John's socks started to turn a slight yellow. A few good thrusts was all I needed at this point to release the load I'd been holding back all day and had let build up over the last few days. Still to this day it might have been the best orgasm of my life. For a moment it also felt like I blacked out. It felt so good and naughty to orgasm like that in public on my porch in front of my friends (even though Luke and I had orgasmed in front of each other before) but I was too caught up in the pleasure and excitement of everything to feel embarrassed anymore. I don't know how much time passed as the other two just stood there taking in the feelings of everything with me on my knees. It felt like hours but surely it was only minutes. They didn't ask me if I got off but I'm pretty sure they knew or at least suspected. They were cool with it. After all that we still wanted to go through with the plan to check out the abandoned house and we didn't really need anything inside my house anymore so I unlocked the door and we dropped off our bags and headed out to the forest in our wet clothes. We passed by a couple people on the street who seemed to be looking at us and whispering (all 3 of us had very obviously pissed our jeans) but being together we didn't really care. The forest was only 5 minutes away and we began hiking through the brush in our wet jeans and underwear (those of us that were wearing underwear ). Now the abandoned house was a bit of a way into the forest, about a 30 minute hike or so and it started to rain, it looked like a pretty heavy storm was coming in. Half way to the cabin, John asked up to stop so he could take a piss again and Luke and I just looked at him and I said, "We're already getting soaked from the rain, just piss your pants again." "Didn't it feel pretty good anyway?" Luke added as he shot me a smirk. "Here, I'll go too." The 3 of us all pissed again in our jeans as the rain was pouring down on us. By the time we reached the abandoned house the downpour was torrential and we needed to take shelter inside the abandoned house. It wasn't falling apart or anything so we guessed it had only been abandoned a few years and there were obvious signs that other kids came here to party sometimes. We hung out and chatted about regular stuff for a little while waiting for the rain to pass but after about an hour the storm showed no signs of letting up and we all needed to pee again. This time we all stood together in a circle in the corner of the cabin and let go while checking out each other's streams. Luke and John definitely seemed into this at least to some degree and at least for today. After we all finished and sighed with relief, things took a bit of an exciting turn. Luke asked me if I was wearing girls panties underneath the girls jeans I was wearing. I shyly admitted to him that I was and he asked if he could see. I said, "Only if you two show me your underwear as well." Luke said, "I'm not wearing any," as he unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop to the floor, proudly exposing his piss soaked dick to me and John. "Fair enough," John followed and he too dropped his jeans but this time revealing some piss soaked grey boxers with a nice outline of dry cotton near the waistband to mark where they were wet. I unbuttoned my jeans, exposing my wet red cotton panties to the two of them and to my even greater surprise Luke asked if he could try them on. I agreed only if we could trade clothes and I could try on his piss soaked jeans and shoes. We traded shirts as well. I was completely in heaven getting to wear the jeans Luke was commando in all day and the sneakers his bare feet had been sweating in all day. Luke looked really sexy is my girls outfit too. John asked if he could try on my girls clothes as well and he and I proceeded to trade clothes and the 3 of us kind of took turns swapping and trying on each other's outfits. Through all of this I noticed Luke and John getting hard and we were all trapped in this cabin in the rain storm, it was all kind of romantic actually, but one thing lead to another and I offered to suck them off which they accepted and things kind of spiralled from there. I won't go into full detail on this because it wasn't really omo related anymore and I'm not sure if that's entirely appropriate for this forum but a couple hours later after the rain had finally stopped and our clothes were mostly dry, we began hiking back through the woods to my house. We had all swapped clothes so John was wearing my red panties, fishnets, skinny jeans, grey top and sneakers. I was wearing Luke's jeans, tank top and sneakers, no underwear. Luke was wearing John's clothes, socks, sneakers, underwear and all. On the way back we each had one final wetting in each other's clothes before heading back to my house. We swapped back into our own respective clothing and Luke and John started their walks home as the sun was setting. We all became even closer friends after that (even though we were already pretty close). Luke and John are still straight although there were a few more times we experimented together. A couple of those involved wetting and although Luke and John seemed to enjoy it they never really took it on as a fetish the way I did. This is still to this day one of the greatest omorashi and sexual experiences in general I've had in my life. It took a lot of work to write it all out in the level of detail I wanted to share as I wanted to take care to relate everything about the experience that stuck out to me and meant a lot. This whole experience shaped a lot of my fetishes and sexual life in general. I feel so lucky and blessed to have had an experience like this and it has convinced me that heaven truly is a place on earth. I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I did recounting it and writing about it. It took a couple hours and I got a few good wettings in while I was writing. Wearing the same outfit I was wearing back then for nostalgia's sake. Here are some photos for you guys to enjoy as well (not the fishnets unfortunately, they didn't make it through the years).
  16. Crusader

    Playing house

    From the album: Crusader Gallery

    An image of my OC, being dressed up by the OC of someone called Strawb-Ellie, who does not have an account here (As far as I know.
  17. Here4theFun

    Shibari

    From the album: Here4theFun's Digital Art

    Just a guy wetting himself after being tied up for a while and denied relief. The fact that he is dressed with some nice tights,panties and garter just add to his desperation.
  18. Here4theFun

    Tied up

    From the album: Here4theFun's Digital Art

    Just wanted to draw a bit of bondage and omo.
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