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Hi Omo Lovers! Presenting a new character for all of you. Please welcome Ms. Yana, the sexiest office lady who will go any lengths to hold her pee and act professionally. Releasing the story soon. . .

Summary: When fourteen-year-old Agnes is caught making out with a boy, her religious parents ship her off to Mary Magdalen's Home for Girls, a corrective institution for ungodly young women. Agnes isn't too worried, but as it turns out, this is nothing like Bible Camp. Their aim is to drive out the devil, and they will do so by any means necessary. So, this is an idea I've been kicking around for a while, and I just never knew quite how to write it. The idea started when I read an article about special religious 'schools' in the US where unruly girls were sent to be taught to be good Christians, basically, and where methods ranged from the mundane to the outright sadistic. Please read the tags. This will not be a nice, fluffy or cute story. I'll add extra content warnings to future chapters if necessary. Please consider yourself warned. ————— CHAPTER ONE Agnes stared out of the bus window, at the country side swishing past. It was about four in the afternoon, and the day was sunny and hot. She yawned and scratched her cheek, where she had a mosquito bite. She was fourteen years old. Her dark brown hair fell in ringlets around her summer freckled face and she wore a brown skirt and blue blouse. On the seat next to her stood a small suitcase. It contained mostly underwear, a few other clothing items and a Bible. Her parents had been told that everything else would be provided. The representative from Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls had arrived at their church only a week before. She had brought three young girls, a bit older than Agnes, in neat white gowns, who had testified about how they had been led so astray by the Devil and how Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls had helped them find their way back to the Lord. This had been a couple of days before Agnes was caught making out with a boy from school, and her parents had decided that something had to be done about their daughter’s wicked ways. And so they had called Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls, and asked if they had an opening. It turned out they did. The bus slowed to a halt. An older woman in the front, who had introduced herself as Miss Corrine when Agnes and about a dozen other girls had filed into the bus that morning, stood up. ‘All right, get your bags, we’re here,’ she said. Agnes picked up her small suitcase and shuffled out of the bus together with the other girls. As she stepped off the bus, she saw that they were in the middle of nowhere. ‘We’ll continue on foot,’ said Miss Corrine. ‘The path is too narrow for the bus.’ She set off down a narrow dirt road at a quick pace. The girls hurried to keep up. Agnes looked around. Flat grass land surrounded them as far as the eye could see, with a few trees sticking up here and there. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. They walked for what must have been at least twenty minutes and the heat was stifling, but then they rounded a corner and the large compound appeared. The girls who had spoken at their church had made it sound like a farm or a ranch, but Agnes couldn’t see any animals. The place seemed barren and dry, and it was surrounded by a chain link fence. It looked more like a prison. Which Agnes supposed it was. Her parents had sent her off, without her consent, to a correctional facility where she would learn to be a good Christian. Her crime had been kissing a boy, wearing tight jeans and not paying attention in Bible Study group. Which apparently meant she was promiscuous and ungodly. Agnes had been a good little girl, growing up. Whether out of fear for her father’s belt, her mother’s words, or simply because she was so sheltered, she had hardly ever done anything wrong. She had seen her older brother beaten for talking back, and that was enough to dissuade her from breaking any rules. But entering her teens, Agnes had become more strong willed. She had doubted the religion her parents had pushed upon her since birth, she had wanted to do her own thing, but a small town in Kansas wasn’t a good place to be a rebel. There was always someone watching, and word got back to her parents for every little thing she did. Miss Corrine led them into an entrance area. A man in a crisp light brown suit stood there waiting for them. ‘Welcome!’ he said warmly and beamed at them all. ‘My nam is Mr. Portman. I am the owner and leader of this establishment, and I’m so pleased to see so many new faces!’ He went on for a couple of minutes, about how their time at Mary Magdalene would help them build character and become better people, how the light of God would save them from the Devil’s influence and make model citizens of them, good mothers and wives, and most importantly, good Christians. Agnes glanced around as he spoke. The walls of the room were white, and the floor was grey linoleum. There was a reception desk at one end, but no chairs or sofas by way of a waiting area. The only art work was a large painting of Jesus on the wall behind Mr. Portman. When Mr. Portman had finished speaking, Miss Corrine opened a door off to one side. A dozen girls walked into the room, in a neat line. Like the girls who had come to their church, these girls wore white dresses. They all had their hands clasped in front of them. They lined up opposite Agnes and the other new girls. ‘These are your Big Sisters,’ said Mr. Portman. ‘We have a buddy system here. You will each be assigned a Big Sister who will teach you our rules, show you around and help you find your feet. I will call your names, and the names of your Big Sisters. When you have paired up, your Big Sister will take you to your sleeping quarters and give you a uniform to wear. They will then accompany you to supper, before we all gather for evening prayer.’ Agnes stood as patiently as she could while Mr. Portman started reading off the names on his list. Her name was the last to be read. ‘Agnes Williams,’ said Mr. Portman, ‘your Big Sister will be Mary-Louise Miller.’ The girl who stepped up to Agnes was a couple of years older. She was tall and blonde, with sparkling blue eyes and a sweet smile. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Agnes!’ she said and shook her hand. She spoke in a soft southern accent, her voice a lilting alto. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.’ Mary-Louise brought her to a dormitory down a couple of corridors. There were eight beds in it. One other new girl was being inducted a couple of beds down. ‘I’m in the bed next to yours,’ said Mary-Louise. ‘That way I can keep tabs on you. I’m sure we’ll be best friends!’ She beamed. ‘Here, let me find your uniform.’ She walked up to the small dresser that stood next to the bed. ‘You get two of these,’ she explained, taking out a white dress like her own. ‘We don’t wear any other clothes here, so you won’t be needing anything but your own underwear and night clothes. There’s room in the dresser for that. There’s a bathroom and showers at the end of the hall. Now, get changed.’ Agnes took off her own clothes and put on the white dress. Perhaps this place wasn’t so bad, she thought. Everyone seemed friendly… Maybe she’d be all right. It was only for three months, after all. Mary-Louise took her to supper when she was done changing. On the way she told her about the daily routine at Mary Magdalene’s. ‘We get up at six every day for morning prayers, before breakfast at seven thirty,’ she said. ‘After breakfast we have Bible Study classes, quiet meditation, things like that, all day, until about five pm. Lunch is at one, and supper is at seven in the evening. We have free time between five and seven. Then we have evening prayer at eight, which is one hour, and the showers are open between nine and ten. Lights out at ten pm.’ ‘Sounds very strict,’ said Agnes. ‘It is,’ said Mary-Louise, ‘but we’re better people for it. Routines are key.’ The mess was a large, white room with several long tables. Agnes was at once struck by how quiet it was. The tables were almost full, but the few who were speaking were doing so in hushed murmurs and whispers. Mary-Louise led her to one of the tables and they sat down. A few minutes later, Mr. Portman, Miss Corrine and a few other staff members came marching into the room. The room fell completely silent. They sat down at a smaller, empty table at the far end. Mr. Portman was last to sit, and before he did, he gave a curt nod to the table closest. As one, the girls at that table stood up, in silence, and marched over to the counter. They each took a tray, and were handed plates of food by serving staff. One table at a time, the girls went to collect their food. Soon it was Agnes’s turn. It was eerie. The only sounds in the room were shuffling feet, the chinking of cutlery and hushed voices from the staff table. The girls all ate in complete silence, it seemed. Approaching the counter, Agnes realised that the serving staff all appeared to be teenaged girls like herself. She wondered fleetingly if they were other students, but was too tired to bother questioning Mary-Louise about it. She was served a vegetable soup with a roll on the side. There were no other choices, and no butter for the roll. She was given water to drink. The soup didn’t taste like much, but Agnes was hungry, so she ate all of it. So, it seemed, did everybody else. There were no second helpings, however. Exhausted after the long journey and the new impressions of the day, Agnes sat through evening prayer in a daze, mimicking the other girls and moving her lips as best she could. Afterwards she had a quick shower and went to bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow. ————— Getting up the next morning was hard. Mary-Louise had to shake her several times before at last Agnes sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. ‘Time’s it?’ she murmured. ‘Already five past six,’ said Mary-Louise. ‘Hurry up and get dressed or we’ll be late for morning prayer!’ Agnes got up and put on her dress. She tied back her dark hair, now messy from sleep. ‘I won’t always be here to wake you up, you know,’ Mary-Louise admonished her as they set off towards the chapel. ‘You’re gonna have to learn to get up on your own.’ ‘Sorry,’ Agnes mumbled. She still didn’t feel properly awake. She longed for coffee or something else to wake her up. She sat through morning prayer trying her best not to doze off, though she appeared to not quite manage, as Mary-Louise had to poke her several times to make her pay attention. After prayer they went down to the mess for breakfast. Agnes ate a couple of spoonfuls of the bland porridge she had been served and then spent the rest of the meal poking at it with her spoon. She drank orange juice (there was no coffee) and tried to stifle her yawns. ‘Aren’t you going to finish your food?’ whispered Mary-Louise after a while. Her plate was empty and she sat with her hands in her lap, looking curiously at her charge. ‘I’m not really hungry,’ replied Agnes, sleepily. ‘I can never eat in the mornings.’ ‘But you have to eat it,’ said Mary-Louise. ‘Those are the rules. Everyone has to empty their plate at every meal. You have no choice.’ ‘But I can’t, I’m not hungry.’ Mary-Louise studied her, frowning. ‘Fine,’ she said, after a moment. Then she got up, and walked over to the staff table. She whispered something to Miss Corrine, who stood up and came back with her. Everyone stopped eating and looked up. Miss Corrine approached Agnes, looking stern. ‘Everyone has to finish their food here, Agnes,’ she said. Agnes was sure everybody could hear her as the room was so quiet. ‘Perhaps we hadn’t made that clear?’ ‘I’m sorry, Miss Corrine,’ said Agnes, trying for a smile, ‘but I just can’t eat if I’m not hungry.’ ‘Do you squander the gifts the good Lord gives you?’ asked Miss Corrine. ‘No, ma’am…’ Agnes frowned, her smile faltering. ‘I mean, I don’t mean to, but you give us big portions, so . . .’ ‘You will finish your food, Agnes, or there will be consequences,’ said Miss Corrine. Mr. Portman stood from the staff table then, and came towards them. ‘What’s all this then?’ he asked calmly. ‘Agnes refuses to eat, sir,’ said Mary-Louise softly. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Mr. Portman turned to Agnes. ‘I would prefer if you eat what’s on your plate.’ ‘But, sir, I’m not hungry!’ Agnes’s voice had gained an edge now. She felt annoyed. Surely it was none of anyone else’s business whether she ate breakfast or not? ‘Then I’m afraid you leave me with no choice,’ said Mr. Portman sadly. ‘Miss Corrine, look after everything here. Agnes, Mary-Louise, come with me, please.’ Agnes’s stomach churned as she stood. What was to happen now? They followed Mr. Portman out of the mess and down the hall towards a door. Upon entering, Agnes discovered the room beyond to be Mr. Portman’s office. It contained a heavy mahogany desk and several bookcases. Mr. Portman sat down behind the desk while the girls remained standing. ‘It pains me to have to do this already on your first day, Agnes,’ said Mr. Portman without looking at them, adjusting a cup full of pens on his desk. ‘But the rules here are strict and meant to be followed. Everything we do here is for your own good, to teach you girls to be good, Christian women. You are sinful by nature. You need guidance. You are here because the Devil has taken up residence in you. I am here because I wish to drive him out.’ There was a silence. Agnes stared down at her tan ballerina flats, saying nothing. ‘Now, as for your punishment.’ Mr. Portman stood, walking over to one of the bookshelves where a jug of water and several glasses stood. ‘Mary-Louise, I delegate to you to make sure that Agnes drinks one glass of water every hour until lunch. You are also to make sure she doesn’t go to the restroom in that time. If she is ready then to show appreciation for the gifts that God has given her and empties her plate, she may visit the restroom after. We’ll start now.’ He filled a glass with water and walked around his desk, handing the glass to Agnes. ‘Drink up.’ Agnes took the glass. Something squirmed in her stomach. She was to go five hours without going to the bathroom while drinking copious amounts of water? It seemed hardly possible. Mr. Portman made an impatient sound, a clearing of the throat and, without looking at him, Agnes lifted the glass to her lips and drained it in a few gulps. Thankfully it wasn’t a very large glass, but she suddenly wished that she hadn’t had all that orange juice. Mr. Portman dismissed them, and the two girls left his office. They walked in silence for a while. Breakfast was over and it was time for the first class of the day. When they exited the main building to walk across the dry grass to one of the smaller ones, Agnes finally spoke. ‘Why did you tell on me like that?’ she asked softly. She felt Mary-Louise glance at her out of the corner of her eye for a moment before answering. ‘Like he said. You’re here because you’ve got the Devil in you. They can’t help you expel him if you don’t follow the rules. I did it for your own good. Besides, they would have noticed sooner or later anyway.’ Agnes rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, I see. You did it for me, not to show what a good girl you are. Your motives were purely altruistic.’ She was unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice. Mary-Louise stopped and turned to her. ‘We’re encouraged to take care of each other here, Agnes.’ Her voice still had the sweet tone of before, but something in her look was cold. ‘We help each other get better. I was like you when I got here. I had demons inside me making me wilful, making me talk back, making me flaunt the rules. The other girls helped me see the error of my ways, helped me shake off the demons and become a better person. I’m not there yet. Us girls, we’re sinful by nature and it’s only by giving ourselves over to the Lord completely that we can rid ourselves of that sin. I’m getting there, and helping you will help me get there. When you do good you are rewarded. When you do bad you’re punished. All we’re doing here is giving a taste in life of the punishments that await the wicked after death.’ She turned away and began to walk again. ‘The Devil loves pleasure and fears pain. It is with pain you drive him out.’ She sounded like a text book. Like she had memorised all these things and was parroting them back the way she’d been taught. This frightened Agnes more than the words themselves. She hadn’t had much choice but to come here like her parents wanted, and she had been resigned to her fate. Spend three months at yet another ‘Bible Camp’, act like a good girl, and then go home. But the certainty with which Mary-Louise spoke, her blind faith in her words and acceptance of the status quo, that was terrifying. It told Agnes that this place changed people, and that if she wasn’t careful it would change her too, and she would lose her sense of self. By ten o’clock, Agnes had lost her ability to sit still. She fidgeted in her seat while Miss Corrine told them the story of Adam and Eve and explained how Eve’s weakness had damned all women and steeped them in sin. How purity and obedience were the only way towards salvation for any girl. Agnes only picked up bits and pieces, her rapidly filling bladder distracting her. An hour later she was bouncing in her seat, rocking back and forth and trying to refrain from putting her hands between her legs and hold herself. Mary-Louise kept obediently getting up, every hour on the hour, to get her a glass of water. Miss Corrine appeared to have been informed, because she said nothing. Either that or this was such a common occurrence that it hardly bore notice. At one the girls returned to the mess for lunch, and by now Agnes was beginning to feel like she couldn’t possibly hold it for much longer. She took tiny steps and had to stop often to cross her legs or bend forward and clutch herself, and she felt the occasional trickle go into her panties. Mary-Louise walked next to her patiently. Agnes couldn’t have told anyone what was for lunch. It was bland and no doubt very healthy, and she wolfed it down at record speed, hoping that if she just finished it all she would be allowed a bathroom break. When Mr. Portman came over to inspect her plate and gave a satisfied smile, she shot to her feet. ‘Can I . . .’ She could hardly get the words out and cleared her throat, dancing slightly on the spot. She decided it would be better to be polite. ‘May I please be excused for the restroom now, sir?’ she asked as sweetly as she could. Mr. Portman’s smile widened. ‘Of course you may.’ Agnes shot out of the mess like a bullet and only just made it to the toilet in time. Peeing had never felt so wonderful as at that moment. She went for at least a minute, voiding her bladder in a hard, steady stream. She had to bite her lip in order not to moan. She was pretty sure moaning was a sin. ————— The afternoon was spent in so called quiet meditation, which essentially meant sitting in the chapel staring at the cross on the wall. It was impossible for Agnes not to let her mind wander. She thought about home, about her bedroom and her CDs. She realised with a jolt that she had never gone this long without listening to music before. Unless one counted the psalms they sung during prayer, which Agnes most certainly did not. If it didn’t have a beat it wasn’t much worth a damn. She wondered how much she’d miss dancing by the end of her stay at Mary Magdalen’s. She wondered if she would even remember her favourite songs, going so long without hearing them. And what about her friends? Agnes sighed deeply at this thought. She missed her friends. Ava, the trivia machine who knew everything. Lily, who was so fashionable and sweet and always helped Agnes with her make-up. Wayne, who hung out with them and who Agnes was pretty sure would turn out to be gay. She would have given just about anything right then to sit in the park with the three of them, sharing a stolen cigarette and laughing about something they’d seen on TV. Would they still like her when she got back? She looked away from the cross on the wall, glancing about the chapel as covertly as she could manage. Everyone else seemed to be doing what they were supposed to. Some had their hands clasped, lips moving in silent prayer. Others had closed their eyes and looked almost blissful. Next to her, Mary-Louise sat with her hands in her lap, a serene smile playing on her lips and her eyes out of focus. Agnes found herself wondering what she was thinking. Agnes was about to return her gaze to the cross, figuring that one person not doing what she was supposed to was bound to stick out like a sore thumb, when she spotted another girl who seemed to have her mind elsewhere as well. A redheaded, freckled girl who might have been a year or two older than Agnes sat picking at her dress, looking deeply bored. As though she could feel Agnes’s eyes on her, she looked up and met her gaze. She smiled and rolled her eyes in commiseration, before, heaving what was obviously a heavy and demonstrative sigh, returning her gaze to her own lap. Agnes was too taken aback to return the smile before it was too late. ————— At five o’clock Mary-Louise finally left Agnes’s side to go hang out with some girls from a different dorm. She asked Agnes to join her, but Agnes had happily refused, longing for some time on her own. She made her way to the common room, which was next to the mess, and sat down in an almost comfortable arm chair. There was a bookshelf in the common room, but it contained only titles like How to Be a Good Girl and Rejecting Satan: A Guide to Spiritual Cleansing, in addition to half a dozen Bibles and several prayer books. There was also an out of tune piano with a sign on it saying that it was not to be played without express permission. So Agnes sat back in her chair and let her mind wander. Somebody pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. Dragged out of her thoughts, Agnes glanced sideways at the newcomer. It was the redhead from earlier. ‘Hey,’ said the girl, smiling. ‘I’m Maddie. What’s your name?’ ‘I’m Agnes,’ said Agnes, sitting up slightly. She took in Maddie’s appearance. She was very pretty, with sparkling green eyes, thin pink lips and a button nose. Her red hair was wavy and shoulder length. ’So, what are you in for, Agnes?’ asked Maddie, leaning back in her chair with her hands behind her head. Agnes looked away, blushing slightly. ‘Kissing a boy. And probably some other things too.’ She glanced at Maddie again and found her smiling. ‘What about you?’ ‘Well, let’s see, where to start . . .’ Maddie counted on her fingers. ‘Having opinions, reading William Blake, disobedience and masturbation. Plus lack of shame for all of the above.’ Agnes laughed nervously. ‘Well, that’s quite a list.’ Maddie shrugged. ‘It all boils down to the same thing, really. Being a girl and not feeling sorry about it.’ Her expression changed to a more serious one. ‘How are you holding up? I gathered that Portman gave you the old water torture. It’s a favourite of his.’ Her eyes seemed to darken at this and her voice took on a bitter edge. ‘Sucks to have to go through that your first day.’ ‘Yeah, well . . .’ Agnes looked away uncomfortably. ‘Been through it lots of times myself,’ Maddie continued. ‘Portman’s punishments just don’t seem to bite, though. I’ve been here for like six months, and I’m still the same ungodly, sinful creature as I was when I got here. At this rate I’ll grow old and die in this hellhole.’ Agnes looked around nervously. She was pretty sure that this was not a conversation they were meant to be having, but no one seemed to be listening to them. That made her feel braver. ‘I miss my friends,’ she said. ‘I just really wanna go home.’ ‘Yeah,’ said Maddie. ‘Me too. But, hey. I don’t know if I’m right, but I kind of feel like you and me get each other. So, you know, maybe we could be friends?’ Agnes smiled. ‘I’d like that.’ ‘Cool. Just don’t tell Big Sister Mary-Louise about it.’ As they talked, Agnes thought that if Maddie could spend six months at Mary Magdalen’s and still be normal, maybe there was hope for her too.

Hi, I've always enjoyed imagining stories where a girl wanted or was forced to hold so much pee that her bladder start bulging visibly and her tummy become hard as a rock. I often rely on real situations which I see or images I find online. So I thought about posting some images along with the context I imagined. I hope you will enjoy it. What would you do if you were in front of this girl? Would you be satisfied by her extremely stretched little bladder or would you say to her that she is still weak?

I wrote this a while ago as the idea came into my head, and have tweaked it a little bit since. There is, I think, the possibility for a continuation, but it depends on inspiration, motivation, and whether anyone would even be interested in reading more. Read the tags for content warnings, and enjoy! Andi’s hand shook as he struggled with his keys. He stood walking in place, jaw clenched, and a small whimper of frustration escaped him before he managed to get the key in the lock of his front door. Once inside he threw down his bag, and left a trail of scarf, jacket, and boots as he raced towards the bathroom. He pulled the door shut on reflex even though he now lived alone. He hesitated, glancing at the toilet. He needed to go so badly he felt like he would burst, but after a brief moment’s consideration he stripped down to his boxer-briefs and turned towards the shower. Shifting his weight back and forth between his feet he wondered if he should take them off or not. In the end he left them on, and stepped into the shower. He stood there for a good while, occasionally moaning, whimpering and swearing, still shifting back and forth, rocking on the balls of his feet. He stuck a hand in between his legs and grabbed himself. He could feel that he was hard, but of course he was. ‘Shit,’ he murmured. ‘Shit, shit, fuck . . .’ He felt the pressure building, until he couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and he sobbed as he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and his urine began to flow down his legs, through his pants, splashing onto the tiles beneath his feet. ‘No! No . . .’ He sank to his knees, panting and sobbing, feeling the warm pee underneath him. He touched the front of his boxers, rubbed himself through the fabric, and a final spurt of urine soaked his hand. He grabbed one of his nipples between the fingers of his other hand, pinching, and kept stroking his sex until his sobs turned to groans of pleasure and he finally came. Sitting there, in a puddle of his own piss, he didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to take his pants off, even though they were quickly becoming cold and uncomfortable. In the end, he did anyway. Andi had two secrets. One was this, his most shameful kink. That he liked to hold his pee in until he wet himself. That he got off on it. The other was that he was only a few months a ‘real’ boy. He’d been on T for a little over half a year. His voice had dropped. He had gotten hairier, his skin had changed, as had his body fat ratio. He had always been quite flat chested, though what little tits he had still bothered him, as did what was, or wasn’t, between his legs. He did have a dick, the clitoris having grown significantly. It was about an inch long now, about an inch and a half and much thicker while erect. He was proud of his dick. It couldn’t penetrate anyone, but then he had always preferred bottoming anyway. Still, he hated to think about it, to look at it. His vulva. He’d hoped his dick would grow bigger than this. It still might, of course, but a lot of the guys he’d spoken to said theirs grew most in the first six months on testosterone. Whether or not he’d have surgery at some point he hadn’t quite decided, but he really wanted to. Top surgery was a given, and he was already on a waiting list. Andi hadn’t had sex in a long time. Not since he started trying to pass. Well, not until recently, that is. Not until Ronan. Ronan, who had been his best friend for a long time, and who somehow took everything in stride. When they had first met, online, Andi’s transition had been in its infancy. He had only just started to accept that he was trans, and the first thing he had done was try to be a boy online. Ronan was the sort of person who inspired trust, so eventually Andi had told him everything. He had been completely cool with it. He hadn’t asked any weird or invasive questions. He had simply listened, and when Andi had asked if he was freaked out, he had written: Why? You’re the same person now that you were five minutes ago. You’re my friend. And I want you to be happy. Since that moment, Andi had shared his fears, his body dysphoria, what his doctors and therapists told him, and his hopes for the future with Ronan. And then, at some point, his fantasies and his kinks, and that was when their relationship had changed. They had talked about all of it, and then explored it in detail, first with a series of phone calls and Skype sessions, and then finally, a few weeks ago, in person. The fact that Ronan, who was gay, wanted to be with Andi almost served to make him feel more like a real man than the hormones could. But this last kink even Ronan didn’t know about, and he never ever would. If he ever found out . . . Andi was sure even Ronan couldn’t accept something like that. Who would? It was, objectively speaking, gross. Urine was not a natural part of sex. Of course, it wasn’t the urine itself that turned him on. It was the desperation, and the act of wetting himself. The shame of it. Shame and humiliation were already present in his and Ronan’s play. When they were together, Ronan had tied Andi up, spanked him, made him choke on his dick, and Andi had loved every second of it. The memory was enough to make him blush. Ronan was naturally dominating, and being submissive with him felt wonderfully freeding. This, though, this was different. Lately, Andi’s wetting fantasies had taken on a different form. He imagined not doing it alone. He imagined Ronan telling him when he could and couldn’t pee—much the same way he sometimes forbade him from touching himself without permission—refusing him access to the toilet until he was a shivering, desperate mess. He pictured Ronan making him wet himself on command, and sometimes he imagined Ronan fucking him while he was holding, fucking his arse until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and pissed. Then he would get disciplined with a spanking. He could never, ever tell Ronan what he was imagining. The whole thing had started back when his transition was in its infancy, pre-T. Back when he had begun trying to pass. At the time he had felt very uncomfortable with public bathrooms. He didn’t want to use the ladies’ room because he wasn’t a woman, but he felt like if he used the men’s room they would see straight through him. They would call his bluff, they wouldn’t see him as a real man. So whenever he was away from home, he refused to use the toilet. One evening he had been out for a drink with some good friends who called him Andi instead of Anna, and used the correct pronouns, and it had been a really good time. He had rather a lot of beer. He was quite used to holding his pee in by then, and could usually handle it, but it got a lot more difficult when he was drunk, and on his way home at two in the morning, it happened. He wet himself. It was dark, but there were some people about. Andi froze, completely mortified, hoping to God that no one would notice. It didn’t seem like anyone did, but he had never felt more embarrassed or terrible about himself. As soon as he could shut off the flow, which was easier said than done, he ran the rest of the way home and locked himself in the bathroom, sobbing. Not seeing any point in holding it in anymore, he let go and finished wetting himself on the bathroom floor. After pulling off his sopping wet jeans, he got in the shower and washed. He got off twice, went to bed, and got off again. The next morning he woke up wanting to do it all again. Thinking about that night (what he had since come to think of as his second awakening, the first having been when he accepted his true gender) still made him hard. Andi turned on the shower, washing the urine from his legs and the floor. He made the water as hot as he could take, and while he stood under it, began to stroke himself. He pictured Ronan while he did, and tentatively reached back, pushing a wet finger inside his arse. He moaned loudly, and a little bit of leftover pee trickled out. His fingers didn’t really feel like enough, though, and he stepped out of the shower and over to the bathroom cabinet. He had left his dildo there the last time he had got off. He found it along with some lube, and after slicking it up and stretching his hole a bit, got back in the shower and began to pump his arse with it. He moaned loudly, stroking his cock, and peed a bit more. It didn’t take him long to come. Andi cleaned himself up and got out of the shower. After towelling himself off he reached for his phone to check his messages, and the moment he touched it, it rang. Ronan’s picture filled the screen, and Andi instantly blushed. He only let it ring twice before answering. ‘Hi,’ he said, his voice a bit breathless. ‘Well, hello there, boy,’ said Ronan’s deep, silky voice. ‘You sound exactly the way I like you best,’ he purred. ‘Have you been naughty?’ Andi smiled. ‘Maybe . . .’ ‘Tell me,’ Ronan demanded. His tone of voice hadn’t changed, but it was a command nonetheless, and Andi felt a tugging sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch. He may not like his XX-chromosome parts all that much, but they did give him the advantage (or disadvantage) of not being easily spent, and he immediately reached down to touch himself again, before stopping himself. ‘I just got out of the shower,’ he said. ‘I may have . . . Gotten off a few times.’ Ronan tutted. ‘Without me? I’m disappointed in you, Andi.’ ‘Guess you’ll have to punish me,’ said Andi quickly. Ronan chuckled softly. ‘If you’re so eager for punishment, boy, perhaps I should prepare some less pleasurable discipline. Silent contemplation, say.’ Andi whimpered involuntarily. ‘No? Well, I guess I do owe you a bit of a spanking. Too bad I can’t do it right now.’ Ronan sighed. ‘What are you doing?’ Andi asked. ‘Right now I’m stroking my cock, thinking of you all naked and wet in the shower.’ Andi let his hand wander down to his own dick and said, ‘Me too.’ ‘Uh-uh. Did I tell you you were allowed to touch yourself?’ Ronan asked, and Andi stopped immediately, but not before whining softly. ‘What’s that, boy? Are you complaining?’ ’N—no,’ Andi stammered. ‘Of course not.’ ‘Good. You can touch yourself when I tell you to.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Andi, obediently. ‘What were you doing before?’ Ronan asked him. Andi’s heart hammered in his chest. ‘Nothing, really. I was just in the shower, and then I . . . Touched myself.’ ‘How many times did you come?’ ‘Three . . . I think.’ ‘My naughty little Andi,’ said Ronan. ‘Whatever shall I do with you? It’s like you want to be punished.’ Andi swallowed, but said nothing. ‘Do you, boy? Do you want me to spank your arse raw?’ Andi moaned softly. ‘Tell me.’ Andi drew a breath, and it came out again ragged. When he spoke his voice was uneven. ‘If you want to. I’ve . . . I’ve been disobedient. I need discipline. Need to be . . . To be shamed.’ ‘You want me to shame you? To embarrass you?’ Ronan asked. Andi remained silent. His legs felt shaky. He was so turned on he could barely breathe, and he needed to pee again, too. ‘Tell me what would embarrass you most of all. What could I make you do that would be a true punishment?’ Andi spoke without thinking, without considering the consequences. It was a reflex, to answer Ronan truthfully. He couldn’t lie to him. ‘Make me piss myself.’ He covered his mouth, mortified. He had said it. What would happen now? ‘Oh?’ came Ronan’s voice. ‘Why, that’s new. What manner of kink is this?’ Andi bit his lip. ‘It’s . . . It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.’ ‘No, no, no,’ Ronan purred. ‘None of that, boy. Tell me.’ Swallowing a couple of times, Andi considered his words carefully before speaking. ‘Sometimes I . . . I like to hold it until I’m fit to burst. Getting all desperate like that . . . It, er . . . It really turns me on.’ His face felt hot, and he was stammering quite a bit. At the same time he felt more aroused than ever. Embarrassing himself like this, telling Ronan his most secret of secrets, he could almost come without even touching himself. ‘Sometimes I . . . I hold it until I wet myself, and then I get off.’ The last bit nearly turned into word salad, but Ronan seemed to catch it all the same. ‘Then I feel embarrassed, and ashamed . . .’ ‘Mmm . . . Well, I do like you desperate. I could forbid you from going to the toilet. And then, if you do wet yourself, I’d have to discipline you.’ ‘Oh God,’ Andi whimpered. ‘Please . . .’ ‘Please what?’ ‘Please, sir, may I come?’ ‘Hm, not sure you’ve earned it yet. You’ve been holding back on me, after all. Not telling me about this . . . How long have you been doing it?’ Andi swallowed. ‘Since . . . since before I started on T. Back when I started trying to pass.’ ‘And here I thought you had told me all about your fantasies, and it turns out you’ve got this squirrelled away. I’m disappointed in you, Andi.’ There was amusement in Ronan’s stern voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ Andi mumbled. ‘I . . . It was embarrassing. I thought maybe . . . maybe you wouldn’t like me anymore, if I told you. That you wouldn’t want to . . .’ ‘That I wouldn’t want to fuck you anymore?’ Ronan chuckled. ‘You’re an idiot, my little Andi. The thought of you all desperate like that, of you pissing yourself and feeling mortified about it . . . Mmm, that really turns me on.’ His voice sounded a little breathless. Andi licked his lips. ‘Ronan . . . Sir . . .’ ‘All right. Since you’ve given me so many fun things to think about, I’ll let you come, boy.’ Andi’s hand immediately went down to his crotch and he began to stroke himself. ‘Fuck . . . I’m so horny right now, I can’t even—I’m gonna—’ ‘So eager. Slow down, boy. That’s it.’ Andi did as he was asked, slowed the movement of his fingers, but he still felt so close. ‘How’s it feel?’ Ronan breathed. ‘Feels good,’ Andi moaned. ‘God . . . Wish you were here, fucking me.’ The sound Ronan made was more like a growl than anything else. ‘So do I, boy. So do I. But until I am, this will have to do.’ ‘Mhm . . .’ Andi felt breathless. ‘Fuck . . . Ronan, please . . .’ ‘Go on then. You can come.’ Andi picked up the pace. His thighs quivered, and he could barely remain standing, unable to support himself with his other hand since he was on the phone. ‘Oh, fuck! Ah!’ He came, but kept stroking, and not long after he came again. He dropped to his knees, hand still working. ‘Fuck, you sound so good, Andi. Keep this up, I’m gonna come, too. Think you’ve got another one in you?’ ‘Yeah.’ Andi kept going, eyes slipping shut. ‘I can . . . fuck! Shit . . . I need to . . .’ He hesitated, face feeling hot. ‘I need to pee.’ ‘I see. Tell you what. When you come, you can pee.’ ‘Mmh . . . Yes, sir.’ Andi stroked himself faster, getting closer and closer. ‘Ronan . . . Ronan, I’m gonna come again!’ ‘Mm, go ahead. Let me hear you. I’m so close, I’m gonna come, too. Wish I could come in your mouth. All over your face.’ That was all it took, and Andi gave a loud shout as he came a third time. He was forced to stop touching himself, as he was too sensitive to continue, and then he pissed again, letting out a moan of relief. On the other end of the line, he heard Ronan swear, and groan, voice gaining in pitch as he finally came. Andi loved listening to Ronan coming. He loved listening to Ronan, period. ‘How are you feeling?’ asked Ronan softly. ‘Good. I feel . . .’ Andi gave a breathless laugh. ‘I feel good. Thanks. Fuck . . .’ Ronan laughed as well. ‘You always sound so good, boy. Can’t wait to see you again.’ ‘You’re still coming next weekend, right?’ ‘Of course I am. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Andi. You won’t be able to walk.’ Andi whimpered. If he gave himself a few minutes, he’d be ready for another three or four orgasms, he was sure of it. His libido had already been high pre-T. Testosterone did not serve to soften it. Still, best not push his luck. As much as he loved and accepted Ronan’s discipline, there could be too much of a good thing. He cleared his throat. ‘Can’t wait.’ ‘I don’t want you to touch yourself until then, boy. Is that clear?’ Andi gave another soft whimper. ‘Yes . . . yes, sir.’ ‘Good boy. I’ll see you soon enough.’ ‘Yeah. See ya. Thank you, sir.’ They hung up, and Andi stepped back into the shower for another rinse.