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Found 19 results

  1. Contains female desperation, wetting, bad language and themes of a sexual nature. This is a work of fiction and any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Enjoy! The-Exam.mp3
  2. From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    "She really has to pee, because she... drank an extremely potent diuretic!" Three cans of tea and a Calculus II midterm --- what could possibly go wrong?! As usual, the nude and text-less versions are available on my Patreon!
  3. From the album: Jailor Eckman's Hoard

    And here's the second Solitary Confinement poll winner for July! Poor Harlyn forgot to pee before her final, and she's desperately trying to convince her professor to let her duck out for a couple of minutes so she can relieve herself... But her professor just isn't budging --- if she lets Harlyn come back, it won't be fair to her other students! Though, based on her own frantic dancing, I can't help but think that there might be another reason for her lack of leniency! XD
  4. Hello everyone. This is my first attempt to write an story in English. Its an imaginary story, so let me know your thoughts. ...... Hi, I am Suparna from India. I am currently in the final year of the MBBS ( Doctor graduation course for Westerners ) course in the prestigious college in our country. This incident happened to me during my last final practical exam. For some context, the practical exam for mbbs is an extremely drawn out process. It starts in the morning with identification of some body parts relevant to the subject, then actually cutting into cadaver ( preserved dead bodies) to find out body parts, perform some procedures, and ends with viva. And this process goes for the whole day. At the Start of my final practical exam, I was wearing a pretty normal top, normal innerwear and a skin colour slaxx, I wanted to be comfortable for the upcoming day. I had my food, and hydrated myself, and went to the exam lab at 10am in the morning. All the procedures till viva took 3pm in the afternoon. And after that, I went to the line for viva. In the viva line, I am last in our batch ( the line order is alphabetical), so I was waiting at the end of the line, there were like 15 students before me. I brought out my notes, and started revising before the viva ( it is allowed ). During that, I had a little urge to pee, but I ignored it and focused on studying. I was super nervous about the viva, because the professor who was taking it was very senior surgeon. So I tried to ignore my urge, and concentrated. After nearly 40 mins, my turn came. I left my bag outside, and entered the room. The professor was sitting on the desk, kinda ready to leave as I was the last student. I stood in the middle of the room, and he asked me to come to the desk and sign the attendance sheet. After that, he said " Ok suparna right? Let's get this over with ..." And started asking me question related to the course, which I don't want to bore the readers with. But the gist was, they were hard, it was like he wanted to ask hard questions to end the session quickly. I could barely answer the first 2 questions, stumbled on the third one.. but 4,5,6 questions were totally clueless to me.. i was just fumbling... At that moment, due to the sheer nervousness, my urge to pee suddenly came back with 10 fold intensity. My bladder was full,and started hurting... I crossed my leg while facing the seventh question, which also I didn't knew the full answer. On the 9th question, i was bursting, both in pressure and shame of not being able to answer anything. Then came the 10th question, the question which I knew the answer, I tried to collect my thought, and tried to give the answer, but I realised what happened. In the second of concentration loss, my bladder gave up on me, and piss started rolling down, making a dark spot in my skin colour slaxx.... In front of this well known surgeon, I suddenly did not know what to do, covered my face, while I peed completely infront of him.. after 10 seconds of silence, the professor started laughing " you are such a nervous child, do you really think you can become a doctor in this situation? Tell me should I even pass you? " I was shut off my brain, nothing came to my mind, I just embarrassed myself in front of the surgeon, and now I might possibly fail the exam. I was stupendous... The professor said " Tell me should I pass you? U reek if piss now." I had some courage to say " Yes sir, I need to pass, my parents are believing in me." ....... I will tell the overly sexualise fantasy only someone comments that its okay to continue. Let me know the opinion. Thank you.
  5. Hi everyone, I’ve previously posted (a while ago) about an experience I had at the beach. I wrote this up as I was writing that, thinking I’d share it soon after, but life got in the way. I’ve kept it in the notes on my phone since then, and decided I’d share it now: I thought I’d share one of my favourite memories with you today. I go over it in my head regularly, and still can’t believe it happened! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed it happening. In the UK, the last two years of school before university are called 6th Form. You enter aged 16 after your GCSEs, and leave at 18 in year 12 with your A Level exams. When I went to 6th form, I had a “close friend” that I’ll call Elena (obviously, not her real name). We flirted regularly, spent almost all of our time together (frequently just the two of us), and I’ve since discovered we were widely known as a couple even if we hadn’t decided that yet. We were comfortable with each other by this point after being nearly inseparable for most of the two years, and could often be found asleep, curled up on the sofa together at one of our houses after a long day’s revision. Elena was a relatively tall girl, not skinny but definitely not overweight, with long blond hair reaching most of the way down her back. She was very pretty - at least, I thought so. She was also very shy, but gained confidence with me over time. Where I went to 6th form, we still had to wear smart clothes - you could either wear a suit (or equivalent for girls) or the school uniform. Most who had been to the school prior to 6th form continued wearing the uniform, which was a white shirt with a blue and white striped tie, navy blue jumper or blazer, and navy blue trousers (or navy blue skirt - sometimes with navy tights - for girls). Elena was one of these people, and always wore the skirt, often with tights, and the jumper when she was cold. Elena and I used to meet each other on the train every morning, and would sit opposite each other where we could. I mentioned we both flirted with each other a lot, and one of the ways Elena liked to mess with me was to sit with one leg on the air vent at the base of the wall of the train, at just the right angle so I would get glimpses up her skirt but no-one else could. Because of this, I knew the panties she would often wear (my favourites of hers had a pink-and-white horizontal striped section on her bum, and a teal blue section on the front with a picture of an owl on) and I never tired of her flashing me. Elena also had a very small bladder - she would often be squirming in her seat by the end of a lesson, and it was not uncommon for me to see a wet patch buried in the crotch of her knickers on the train journey home. She never seemed shy about this, and even told me about a previous incident at her 18th birthday party (to which I was apparently oblivious, despite being practically next to her at the time), which I might share at some point. At the end of year 13, we both had our A Level exams. These were long, and difficult, and were important as they decided whether we got into university. They were often over 2 hours long, and although you were permitted to use the toilets that would be at the expense of time you could be writing. Elena had previously struggled with exams, said her AS exams (the previous year) took her close to a full blown “accident” during them, and was worried about her A Levels. However, we had both talked about needing to pee during exams and decided that for our upcoming ones, we might be better off “having an accident” rather than wasting time leaving the hall - we reasoned that this reduced our distraction and maximised our time writing. I never dreamt this would actually happen, though! One very hot day, we had our last exam. We were both very nervous about it, as it was nearly 3 hours long and made up the bulk of our marks for one subject. As it was a hot day, everyone was drinking lots of water, and Elena was no exception. We’d met up as usual on the train, and she had shown me she was wearing my favourite pair of her panties! We talked about the exam and how the others had gone, and made some plans to celebrate the end of 6th form together for the weekend in the pub. When the time came, we went into the exam hall and took our assigned seats. I was one file to the left of Elena, and about 3 rows behind. The exam papers were handed out, and we began. I actually found the exam alright - I kept to time and managed to finish half an hour early. Throughout the exam, I could see Elena growing more and more restless out of the corner of my eye. At one point she raised her hand, but put it down before the invigilator came over and said she was fine when they did - I knew she was struggling. She looked around a few times, and by the 2 hour window I could see one hand buried in her crotch and her legs crossed over it, the other still frantically writing. She was desperate, more so than I had ever seen her before. I saw her gasp a few times and briefly sit bolt upright - I’m sure she was leaking. I’m not sure if my memory is deceiving me but I might even have seen a damp patch reach the back of her skirt where she was sitting on it. When I had finished, I looked up and saw her practically dancing in her seat, wriggling around, crossing and uncrossing her legs, putting her pen down and picking it back up again repeatedly. She was trying to focus (she was always cute when she was focussed) but couldn’t sit still. She looked around at me again and we made eye contact for a second; I saw pure panic in her eyes. I tried to give her a reassuring smile before looking away for fear of the invigilators thinking we were cheating. I looked back again and saw her look at me, close her eyes and sigh. Her shoulders sagged, she looked down at her crotch, and I knew what was coming. Her pee streamed off the seat in all directions, splattering on the hard floor and puddling at her feet. The noise was immense in the quiet exam hall, and I’m sure everyone was looking at her. It continued for what felt like an age - it must’ve been more than two minutes - before easing off. To her credit, once she’d finished she refused all help, stayed seated and continued the exam to the last minute, although she was doing so through tears and sobs. Once we’d finished, we were dismissed file by file. She remained seated when her row left, and I waited for her outside. She was the last one to leave and was still crying when she came out - I immediately gave her a hug and steered her away from everyone else who’d left. We found a quiet corner where I tried to calm her down a bit, and we talked about what had happened. She said she had been trying to hold on to the end and had been panicking about finishing the exam. When she’d looked round, she remembered what we’d talked about and decided she didn’t have any other option - she didn’t think she’d last to the end anyway, and commented that she definitely wouldn’t have held through the queues for the toilets that had built up. She seemed ok with that - she felt it was better to do it on her terms than have a desperate rush to the loo at the end, only to be foiled by a queue and loose control in a crowd. We assessed the damage she had done as we waited until we thought the crowds of students would have left. The back of her skirt was sodden and there was a wet streak at the front where she’d been holding herself even as she let go; her tights were shiny all the way down the back and her shoes squelched whilst she walked. She turned away to lift her skirt and drop her tights to look at her knickers, but couldn’t see much so turned back for my opinion. Her shirt tails had turned from white to yellow, front and back, and were translucent and sticking to her underwear. The white stripes on the seat of her pants had turned translucent all the way up to the waistband, and her pee seemed to have wicked up and around the sides of the leg holes. The teal section to the front was a much deeper blue with only the faintest hints of the original colour over her hips. They still dripped, and seemed to cling to her body, emphasising every contour. Once I’d relayed this to her (in fewer words - “they’re f**ked”, I think), she redressed herself and matter-of-factly said we may as well head to the station. We walked the mile or so to the station along a quiet residential road, until we got to an alleyway we had to go down. I had noticed Elena walking quickly and assumed she wanted to spend as little time in public as possible. Once we got to the alleyway, though, she ducked off to a side and pulled me in - I now noticed she was dancing a bit again and asked if she was ok. She looked sheepish and said she needed to pee again, this by now a good hour or more since she had let go in the exam hall. We both knew there were no toilets between where we were and either of our houses; I lived closer so I thought about saying she could come to mine if she thought she could hold it. I realised, though, that she owed me a dare, and decided to cash in. I remember this bit vividly. “I dare you to wet yourself here, now” I said. “What, in this alleyway?” She seemed shocked at the thought. “Yeah - you’ve already done it so no one would notice, and you’d at least be relaxed for the journey home…” She thought about it for a second, then agreed: “I guess so - it would warm my legs up a bit too”. She winked at me. I think she knew I was enjoying myself. She looked up and down the alleyway quickly, then ducked back into the crevice we were hiding in. She closed her eyes for a second, still holding herself through her skirt, and focused. Opening her eyes once more, she looked at me and looked down, “Here goes.” I looked down too and she seemed to wait a second, before I’m sure I heard a faint hiss and saw a blossom of glistening dampness erupt in her skirt around the hand still firmly placed in her crotch. It ran down the folds tucked between her crossed legs and her tights gleamed in the summer sunlight. A puddle began to grow at her feet, and the streams running down both her legs were rapidly followed by a waterfall behind them, falling straight down. She relaxed, removed her hand and spread her legs, before looking at me and reaching down to lift the hem of her skirt. My eyes must have bulged as she lowered the waistband of her tights once more, bunching them around her knees as she showed off her panties, pee running straight through them and falling into the gathered crotch of her tights, and at the same time running down both her thighs before falling at her knees, through the same tights and onto the floor. As her stream died, she looked at me again. “That’s better”, she sighed, before looking around. She seemed to realise what she had done, and dropped the hem of her skirt in shock. She seemed about ready to cry again, so I gingerly stepped into her puddle and pulled her in for a hug, trying to reassure her that things were ok, that I wasn’t going to stop talking to her just because she’d had and accident, and reminding her I’d suggested she pee in her pants the second time. She seemed reassured by this, and looked me in the eyes. “What should I do now?” She asked. I suggested she go home and have a shower, and clean herself up. She realised with a squeak of shock that her brother was at home, and that she didn’t want him to see her in wet clothes. She was mortified at the idea, so I suggested she came to mine (I had the house to myself for the evening and had no real plans) and we could work something out from there. We agreed we would do this, and she seemed calmed once more. She looked down at her puddle again, and toed it tentatively, tights still gathered around her knees, occasional drops falling from her drenched knickers. She said “I guess I’d better do something about these”, and with that she slipped one foot out of its shoe, whipped the tight leg off, and slid the shoe back on in one movement. She attempted this for the other foot but overbalanced and fell against me, putting her still-tighted foot down into her puddle. Once she had removed her tights and re-shod her left foot, she squeezed them out as best she could and placed them in her bag, both of us hoping they wouldn’t soak through for her sake. Her still-dripping skirt was harder to solve, and we decided to just act as best we could that there was no issue and hope no one looked too closely. The train to mine was heaven for me - Elena took up her usual position, and without tights I had a spectacular view of her soaked knickers and I’m sure I shall never forget that sight. She knew full well I was looking, and enjoying what I saw, and pulled her skirt back to make sure the view was maintained for the journey. When we stood up to get off, she again made eye contact with me and, with a cheeky smile, winked. We walked (or squelched, in her case) around the corner to my house and I let us in. Once in, she took off her shoes and we headed upstairs. We went into the bathroom, and I turned away to show her how to use the shower. When I turned back, she had undone her blouse and was midway through dropping her skirt, leaving her in her clean white bra and amazingly hot, soaking wet teal knickers. I gathered up her discarded clothes and pulled her tights from her bag, offering to put them into the washing machine. As I turned to leave, she caught my shoulder and told me to wait a minute. She clambered into the bath and stood in front of me, legs apart, crotch around the level of my navel. She looked at me again, looked down, looked at me again and seemed to tense her core before squeezing a short dribble of pee out through her panties. “Thought I may as well make sure it wasn’t going to happen again” she explained, before telling me to stand outside the door, close my eyes, and hold my hand up. I did so, and heard some rustling before feeling her place some damp wet fabric on my hand, briefly hold my hand through it, let go and disappear behind the shut door. I opened my eyes and saw her panties laid out in my hand, and her bra at my feet. She had a shower as I put her uniform in to wash, and got her a t shirt and a pair of my boxers out to wear whilst waiting for her clothes to dry. Elena was brought up in a strictly Christian family and hence had strong beliefs about waiting for marriage, which I of course respected. We cuddled whilst waiting for her clothes to dry, and then she went and changed back into her underwear before redressing into her full uniform next to me. I walked her to the station, onto the platform, and we again hugged whilst waiting for the train. She went home, and was texting me, as she normally would, even before the doors had closed. I wished I’d kissed her then. We met up as planned for the weekend, and this was the trigger that took us from “close friends” to dating. We saw each other for well over a year after that fateful, wet exam (and had a few more stories I could tell you all) before life inevitably took us on different paths. I’m blessed it was an amicable ending to our time, but I do still miss her sometimes - not that anything will ever happen, she lives across the country from me and we’re both in committed relationships. I hope you enjoyed hearing about the best exam of my life. If there is demand (I suspect there might be) I shall get a few more of our experiences written up to share with you all. (Obviously, names changed to protect the guilty).
  6. School bell rang and everyone hurried into their classes, since it’s the final exam both students and teachers were as early as possible. Every student wanted good marks of course. Our protagonist or victim I would say, was a bit late to class due to heavy traffic jam and pouring rain. She’s still in the bus which is currently stuck within the masses of vehicles. Her name is Malki, works as a teacher in an all-boys school in Sri Lanka. Today her choice of saree (a dress commonly worn by South Asian women) was a silky pink one mixed with white stripes. Small Sakura flowers increased the beauty of it. She’s a petite woman at the perfect age of 24. Fair in complexion and had an amazing pair of soft jiggly breasts with pink nipples (to match her saree probably) that was admired by the boys of all ages and vigorously grouped by her fiancé all the time. Her ass was mediocre but not bad since its been loved my many boys at school. Between those curvy and plumy thighs, there was her innocent little pussy cat (The real protagonist of the story lol), holding a full bladder right now in the bus. “Oh god when I can reach the school so I can empty the container ahhh” Malki’s bladder tortured her mercilessly. The rain made it worse. She was fidgeting all over while standing and holding the pole with her left hand. Her right hand was busy grabbing her pee hole otherwise she’ll piss in her cute saree. Almost everyone in the bus could easily see her battle against her bladder by her heavily agonized face and majority of males enjoyed her struggle. Malki was sweating all over, sweat drops flowed from her neck down into her cleavage wetting her melons, her back wash shining with her sweat. “Everybody who bought tickets for the junction now may get out of the bus.” Screamed the conductor through the people. “Finally, just another one halt to the school. Sweet relief here I come.” Malki screamed inside her head merrily imagining pissing inside the ladies peacefully. * 15 minutes passed. * “Uh god why this fucking bus won’t move. Why the fuck there’s so much traffic today” She was angry towards the stupid bus driver, the conductor and all the other drivers blocking her way to her ultimate pleasure. She knew that she’ll wee on herself like a little girl soon and flood the whole bus with her water. So her next quick decision was to get out of the bus, so maybe she can find a corner or a toilet to relieve herself. So, she swiftly squeezed through the crowd while violently grabbing her crotch. Well somewhere in the middle of the bus, a young man who read the situation perfectly took his opportunity. While Malki is rushing through the crowd he quickly put his hand underneath her saree blouse AND her blue lacy bra to feel her melons. He was able to get a good 3 to 5 seconds of heavenly pleasure. Her cute nipples were pinched hardly, and the boobs were felt well. Her boobs were slipped by his hands multiple time due to her heavy seating. His hand covered from Malki’s sweet, lovely boob sweat and he didn’t hesitate to lick it even though people were watching. “Oh, sweet gooooood aah aah aaaaaah” he just came in his pants instantly because he grabbed some high-quality boob meat and sacred titty sweat which he enjoyed well. Since her need to urinate is much greater, she didn’t want to make a scene there and quickly walked pass him while adjusting her blouse. The touch of her breasts aroused her a bit and a quick spray of piss burst through her pussy, wetting her sweet cotton panty. As soon as she got out of the bus, all she could see was thousands of people busily running here and there for their work. Her eyes quickly searched a washroom, and she couldn’t find a single. For her luck, the rain almost stopped, otherwise she’ll be in deep trouble since she left her umbrella at home. “God, I need to piss like right now. I’m late for school also. Omg what to do what to do now…” as she thought that she knew that she was slowly losing her battle with her bladder. She could have walked to the school and get the pleasure of pissing into the teacher’s commode with a privacy of four walls and a roof, but she couldn’t do that since she’s about to piss herself. Her vagina was sweating a lot and it was basically screaming to empty the bladder as soon as she can. “Aaah I don’t even care if someone sees me. I just need this piss outta my body. That’s it.” She talked to herself while squatting down while hundreds of people are walking past her. Her bladder was at last happy, so that it can let go of this heavy liquid. As soon as she squats, she saw this big trash box in the corner of the main street. It was big enough for the lady to get some privacy. “Ah that’ll do it. Finally, I can take this piss peacefully.” She thought while dashing towards it. There was no one around there. As she went behind the trash box while blocking her piss hole with both of her hands, within a split second, she quickly lifted her saree up revealing her cute cunt and plumy ass covered by her light pink cotton panty, which is also somewhat wet by the incident in the bus. As squatting she instantly grabbed the panty from behind and pulled down along her legs, revealing her curvy white bottom and then the glamours piss hole decorated with half grown black pubic hair. Just before she let her dam open, a loud battle cry was made to celebrate her victory of ‘Not pissing herself’, which might have grabbed the attention of few people. “Ohhhhh good goooooooood aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah” a thick stream of transparent urine was rocketed out from her pussy as soon as the panty was out of the way whilst the queen was enjoying a pleasure of a great piss. The stream was making a loud hiss sound as it hit the cement pedestrian and the holy water made a massive reservoir behind the trash box. The stream and the sighs continued for some time. And the reservoir kept getting bigger and bigger to the point I was soaking her high heels and her saree pallu. (The loose end of the saree). From behind you could see a heavy piss stream aggressively emptying between meaty thighs into the road. Her curvy ass was completely visible to anyone who's looking from behind. She could feel the cold wind kissing her asshole and tickling her heavy working pussy and it added up to her pleasure. 60 seconds passed, yet the stream is as strong as in the beginning. Malki repositioned her legs because squatting in the same way for a long time made her legs hurt. Her bladder was emptying very fast yet there was more piss to be emptied. Some of the piss wet her legs and even her asshole. And suddenly the stream stopped. “Ahhh the best piss ever. I probably shouldn’t drink on Sunday Nights” The stream started again after a small break with a less power. While she was emptying her water sack, she checked the time. “Shit its almost 7.45 I’m way too late for school.” She thought as was enjoying the piss. At the 1 minute 40 seconds mark the stream got weaker and our lady finished doing the most private thing out in the open public, risking her self-esteem. And of course, entertaining a small audience. Since her piss-soaked panty disgust her, she decided to slide it down the legs and put it inside the trash box, instead of wearing it. Then next moment she fled the crime scene while feeling well relieved as if nothing ever happened behind the trash box. She walked towards the school confidently, despite only a piece of Saree covering a private parts. Well, it’s probably way cooler down there without a panty and her pussy probably needed that after being pressurized way too much. At 8.00 she reached the school premises as light as a feather still enjoying the trash box piss. “Ma’am I see you are late today. What might be the reason?” Headmaster stopped her right in front of the school gate. “I got stuck in traffic sir. Want happen again.” Replied Malki while thinking about her adventure. “Oh good. Quickly go to your class the exam has already begun.” “Okay. I’ll run” Malki replied as she was laughing. “Ah one thing. Make sure you don’t let boys’ copy. Do anything necessary to stop copying and cheating.” Headmaster said in a raised voice. “Okay I’ll take care of that.” Malki went to her class passing the headmaster who didn’t forget to take look at her panty-less booty popping out of her saree. She walked pass many other classrooms to find her classroom which was 11-E. All the students were doing the exam paper while a substitute examiner took care of the class. “Oh Malki, you came. What made you so late?” substitute teacher asked from her. (Apparently Malki and her are best friends for more than 5 years.) “Gotta tell you Anudi, I had to piss really bad in the traffic.” Replied Malki with sporting a naughty facial expression. “OMG what happened then?” “It was so bad I had to take the piss behind a trash box” “Oh wow. Seems like I gotta wee now, this rain makes thing worse. Anyways see you later. Take care of the classroom” Anudi went in the direction of the teacher washroom that was situated in the staff room, which is in the same building as all grade 11 classrooms. “Ok I will. Take care” Malki replied as she sits on the teachers chair. The whole piss discussion was faintly heard by some of the students at the class and they got excited a bit. Maybe they’ll do better in the exam. Meanwhile Andui peacefully sat on the commode after putting the seat down. Her lacey knicker was dropped down to her feet. And her hole was emitting a stream down to the commode through her dark bush. She didn’t sigh much because it wasn’t that urgent as Malki’s but she did felt good. The piss stream hitting the commode water made a loud bubbly sound for about 20 seconds up until her piss ended. Then she took metallic the bidet shower and kept it against her pussy from the font and press the button to wash it. Cold water stream sprayed on her vagina startling Anudi a bit. Piss drops on her vag and bush got washed away but her bush got wet. Then she took her cute girly anime handkerchief to wipe it. Like a normal person, next she smelled it and put it back to her handbag. Soon the knicker was well placed covering a buttocks and the vag. As the toilet was flushing, we went out of it like a supervillain after demolishing a building. Meanwhile Malki was sitting on her chair carefully checking on students to catch anyone cheating or exchanging answers, not knowing that her panty-less pussycat and her poor bladder will be destroyed by a sea of piss soon. The morning trash bin piss was just a teaser for the day. ❤
  7. This is a great exam desperation video I found. Here’s the synopsis. An examiner makes his students drink diuretic spiked drinks before the exam starts. After some time, the medicine seems to take effect and fille those tiny bladders of the girls. And soon they start to squirm and grab their crotches and etc. They try to hold it for some time but eventually one woman just gives up and asks for the restroom break. Apparently you aren’t supposed to go out of the examination hall during the exam, so the examiner brings a cover, some containers, and a litter box. Then subsequently almost all women go there and empty their medically filled bladders. After each one done peeing the examiner drink all of their pee and takes the tissues that the girls use to wipe there pussies. One girl refuses the litter box and ends up wetting her white trousers. (Wetting scene itself isn’t shown) The hottest girl accepts the defeat at last and empty her bladder, where her need to urinate surpass the humiliation of pissing Infront of the examination hall. Later the guy(examiner) masturbates sniffing the tissues and drinking some of the pee that he stored during the exam. All the girls look great in this video and the scenario is just the perfect one. Just look at their defeated and uncomfotable faces. 💖 https://www2.javhdporn.net/video/arm-411/ I tried to rip it and download using multiple methods, unfortunately I couldn't. Maybe someone can rip it and upload here. Thanks. [Edit] And BTW i would love to know what are they speaking and what are written on the cover image.
  8. Summary: A female student arrived late for her exam and must complete it be for leaving the testing room. Unfortunately, she also has to urinate and has to hold it until she completes her exam. She does make it without incident. Content: desperation holding, fidgeting, just made it to the toilet. Main Characters: •Evolin Hightower •Professor Kristeena Karson Plot: Today was Evolin's final exam in chemistry. Chemistry wasn't her best subject and passing this test with high marks was key to passing this course with at least a B-. It didn't help working at the campus bookstore from 7 am to 6 pm (on most days) and living an hour away. Plus, she was taking her core courses which were only becoming more difficult. Worse off, she was helping her mom. Her mom (single working mom due to divorce) was laid off and looking for work. She went for tutors, read books, and used online reading materials, but still found herself struggling. What Evolin needed was time to study and learn. Even weekends were spent working and running errands for her only parent; her mom. Last night, she was studying her brains out for chemistry. Staying up as late as 11:30 pm wasn't such a great idea since she had to be in bed by 10 pm to wake up at 6 am. Her class started at 7 am and lasts until 9:30 pm. Drinking coffee and sodas just to stay awake and fight the exhaustion only caused her to crash. Her mom woke her up at 6:35 am and helped Evolin get ready. No breakfast, no use of the bathroom! Just wash up, gargle, grabbed her keys, purse, school bag, have a piece of toast and small glass of water, phone, and that's it. Evolin arrived to her class around 7:50 am. Her professor was a stickler about being punctual and hated students arriving late, especially on days scheduled for a quiz or an exam. This was Evolin's second time this happened. Professor Kristeena Karson was NOT happy with her repeat offense and verbally showed her annoyance. "This is your second time. You promised this wouldn't happen again! This is a disruption to everyone. Already 52 minutes gone and you want to take this exam?" asked Professor Karson. "Y-yes I-I can finish in time." Evolin said did shakily while looking a little flushed. "You don't seem confident that you can." "I can finish Professor Karson." Evolin replied, and with more confidence. With that Professor Karson handed Evolin a test packet and told her to find a seat. Evolin took her test packet and walked gingerly to a nearby seat. For the next 1 hour and 35 minutes. During the first 10 minutes, she blew by the first 20 multiple choice questions. They asked about basic concepts and information. She did this while shaking her leg up and down rapidly. One question asked about the definition of a hydrocarbon as follows: 19. Substances with a molecular structure containing only hydrogen and carbon atoms are ____. A. Salts B. Halogens C. Semi-metals D. Actinides E. Hydrocarbons Evolin sloppily circled choice (E) on her test paper. From there, Evolin had to answer 15 more multiple choice questions. These questions asked specific questions, such as identifying the ioselectric point of a protein, or the basic C1V1=C2V2 math problem. Before she could begin writing on her scratch paper, she winced. For whole minute, she became stiff and shook a little trying to remain dry. She already annoyed her professor and didn't want to upset her more with an accident. Afterwards, she still remained worried about her predicament but ever more determined to finish her exam. She performed the mathematical manipulation of the algebra and calculated the answer to circle. "Phew! That was close." she softly muttered to herself. She sat in the back row and wasn't noticed by Professor Karson. Another 10 minutes went by before answering all the multiple choice questions. Her incessant studying and tutoring, researching the internet, and making mistakes paid off. Her predicament still lingered, pulsating down below. It was 8:18 am and still not done with her exam. Now she had to answer eight short answer questions. These questions required a few lines of writing and/or mathematical work shown. Evolin would need to use all her focus to finish without losing control over the dam. The first question had to do with balancing a chemical equation. The equation provided wasn't so bad and required some time to show how she obtained the answer. After about 4 minutes of working it out on scratch paper, Evolin rewrote her work and moved on to the next question. The next question concerned chemical reactions, specifically calculating limiting reactions. Evolin ways had trouble trying to find out the limiting reactant. It was 8:27 am and almost an hour left. "Damnitdamnitdamnit! Okay Evolin youv...... Oh gawd." she thought to herself inwardly. Another wave pulsated which made her lower area throb like crazy. Her predicament was only growing worse and Evolin wasn't sure how much longer she could hold back the flood. Evolin had to pass this course and to do so, she had to pass the exam with high marks. This predicament couldn't get in the way. After another 10 minutes, she figured out what the limiting reactant and wrote the work. That left only seven more short answer questions. She only had to answer at least seven out of the eight questions to still pass. Evolin began skimming for easy questions only to find subsequent questions become more difficult. Many of the questions involved graphs for pH, determining the number of subatomic orbitals of three metal atoms, one question about Gibbs' Free Energy, and purely essay type questions. Evolin had the most trouble with Gibbs Free Energy so she chose to discard that question. She just had six more questions to answer and needed to choose which one to answer next. Again, her dam felt immense pressure and throbbed. This time, it was different. Her lower region was becoming exhausted and held back several waves of desperation since she woke up. She almost felt the flood when driving to school. But because she was tired, and this wave emerged without warning, she was in danger of releasing Niagara Falls the color of yellow gatorade. She let go of her pencil (which rolled off the side of her desk), grabbed the desk with her hands, and holding with all her left over might. "Nonononot now. Please not now!" she silently mouthed to herself. The wave was so great, she clutched the table like her life depended on it. She double crossed her legs and squeezed them tightly together. For the next several minutes, she was fighting to keep the dam closed. She didn't want to have a single drop come out. It was 8:40 am and time was running out. She still had six more short answer questions to answer. She needed to ace this test and her liquid gold wasn't going to stop her. Evolin clamped her dam shut even tightly, even though it did nothing to stop the wave of desperation. She shifted in her seat ever so slightly, and swaying her knees side to side to alleviate her pain. It worked and made her wave subside a little. Catching her breath, she allocated some of her focus towards her exam. Evolin carefully got up from her seat and went to pick up her pencil. Bending down was painful as it only made the pang-like feeling worse. She sat back down and began working on the next set of questions. Using her knowledge of the metal elements given, she determined the number of orbitals for the elements cobalt, nickel, vanadium, and copper. She realized they don't follow the rules since they're electron configuration varies in each column and row. Afterwards, she went on to answer the question about explaining the chemical equation for chemical reaction rate [k]. This was a tough one and she needed time to process this. Half her mind was on keeping her dam shut (and risking her muscles becoming locked in that position) and the other half on her exam. In addition, Evolin was tired and needed fuel biochemical fuel in her cells. She never ate anything for breakfast except the toast. With all the thinking she had to do, that toast was not enough to cover her energy needs. After five minutes, she was about to move on when she figured it out and answered it right away. "Two down, five to go." she whispered. Evolin had only 42 minutes left of exam time and she had to finish fast. Another wave of desperation swept by which made her stop her test taking again. This time, she softly groaned and winced. She instinctively put her hands on her crotch area of her jeans. This wave was pulsating so much she shook her leg and started rubbing her thighs back and forth rapidly. "Come on Evolin, keep it together. You still have five more questions to go." Using her will power, she forced herself to focus on her exam and make the wave subside. The next question concerned a graph of the pH. Reading this graph wasn't her strong suit either, but she had to figure it out. Evolin discarded the energy question, which meant the other seven had to be answered. No excuses about it! After giving some thought, she remembered how to tackle the question and answered it immediately. The next three questions were answered over the course of 20 minutes. Each one she had to answer carefully and while fighting her predicament. Shaking her leg, rubbing her thighs, etc., it was all done to hold it. At last, at 9:02 am, Evolin had one more question to answer to make at least seven answered short answer question out of eight. This one was a doosy. It involved the procedure for performing distillation of salicylic acid. "Great! I can't remember the steps for this!" she thought. She couldn't possibly know the details off the top of her head, especially at this point. Her predicament had become so bad it was on the verge of exploding. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm" she moaned to herself. She began grabbing her thighs, double crossing her legs multiple times, and even twirling her hair. She had to answer this question. Evolin was considering answering the energy question, but she knew this stuff was just as hard as the distillation question. However, she knew a little something about Gibbs' Free Energy. Evolin changed her mind and chose to answer the question parts A and B. Part A inquired what it was and Part B inquired how to calculate it. Evolin took a step back and thought. She focused all her attention on Gibbs' Free Energy and after about two minutes, Evolin was thinking back to her notes about reactions spontaneously occurring, having a positive energy value while those not spontaneous had a negative energy value. Then, finally it all came back to her. She remembered what it was about and wrote it down. Then, she wrote down the equation to calculate the energy. Once that was done, she handed in her exam. Evolin, keeping her hands in her crotch, she quickly made her way to the bathroom. However, when she arrived only to see a horrid site. Both stalls were taken and it seemed that none of then would be vacated. Evolin had to urinate before it was too late. From the moment she got up, handed her paper in, and made her way here, she was bursting. The next bathroom was on the other side of the building which Evolin didn't want to make the trek to. After 10 minutes of waiting, pacing around, bobbing up and down, grabbing her thighs and croctch, her opportunity became available. One of the stalls opened and out came a female student. Evolin made her way into the stall and shut the door fast. Evolin's wave of desperation was the strongest it had been this morning. All her soda and coffees from last night, and water this morning was ready to come out. Using the last of her will power, she kept the dam shut while undressing. She had to unbutton and unzip her pants, plus put toilet paper on the seat. "Gaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Evolin whined. It was now or never. She lowered herself onto the toilet, then let go. She urinated a gusher like she never thought possible. It was loud and everyone in the female's bathroom heard it. For the next 30 seconds, she sat on the toilet seat emptying her aching bladder. In that time, Evolin panted as her heart beat was returning to normal. Evolin buried her face in her hands. Her whole morning was spent holding back Niagara Falls. Even after her fire hose of a gusher slowed to a trickle, she remained on the toilet seat ready to keel over. Evolin was exhausted and just wanted to go home. But she had to be awake for work and help her mom. Once Evolin collected herself, she wiped herself (crotch, thighs, and buttocks), then pulled up her pants. She flushed, washed her hands, and left for the campus food court for breakfast.
  9. I am Chinese but never took the Gaokao (China’s university entrance exam) myself since I opted to study abroad. Nevertheless I feel the need to write something set in its context since this particular exam is a minefield for literature of any kind, including but obviously not limited to omorashi. PS: Greetings to all fellow Chinese out there, but please note that I would like discussions in this thread, if any, to be kept in English. “Mellow.” Lee’s pen, which had been busily scribbling English words on the answer sheet a few moments ago, came to an abrupt halt as she caught sight of this word sitting innocently on the next line, its definition waiting hungrily to be filled in. Not that she did not appreciate a break; her hand took the chance to thrust between her legs for the umpteenth time since the start of the exam, pressing hard against her crotch. She sighed, but not out of frustration as you would expect someone desperate in an exam to. She knew all too well she was not stuck in a predicament powerless to escape: she could have easily filled in the definition since she knew the answer by heart; also, she could have easily asked for a bathroom break since that was allowed even if it was the most important exam of the year. Yet she opted for neither, at least for the moment. Her sigh was more of one from a worn-out traveler returning to a familiar place than one from a desperate candidate. Yes, it was Gaokao, and yes, it was English, the last exam on the last day. With only half an hour to go, Lee still had not managed to let that fact sink in. If you tie up your arms and legs with thin ropes that cut right into you, there would be nasty red maggoty marks left on them even long after the ropes are untied. That was how Lee’s mind felt - stiff, tight, and physically aching. Her mind was not the only part of her body that was aching, obviously. Her bladder had been throbbing relentlessly for the better part of an hour, something that went blatantly out of her plan for those two days that could be broken down into minutes, seconds, milliseconds. She paused her writing temporarily because of the pain, but not because of the pain in her bladder. That throb fished out memories from her mind, fresh as yesterday, and those memories hurt more than her bladder. For more times than she bothered to care she had, like she did at this moment, sat in a classroom with a bursting bladder, working on a test paper that never seemed to end. It was like some formula; the only variable was the content of the paper. You were never allowed to leave the classroom before class was over, class was never over before you finished your paper, and you could quit expecting to use the bathroom even after class was over, as there were too few of them and the lines were always too long. So there she was, trapped in the formula where her power to escape was diluted by the power to combat the immense pressure in her lower abdomen. “Mellow.” Lee reluctantly removed her hand from her crotch and resumed her cross-legged position. She shook her head, confused; she did not understand why she stubbornly refused to ask to go to the bathroom, just like she did not understand why she kept failing to stop her mind from wandering down memory lane. The scenes came back as flashbacks: the fear of losing control of one’s bladder that never seemed to go away especially after witnessing once or twice fellow students wetting their pants in class because they could not work out some difficult questions in time, the long poorly-illuminated corridors, the classroom stacked with rows after rows of desks and chairs to its maximum capacity, the piles of test papers on the floor that easily reached up to half a person’s height, how everyone was always running - to the cafeteria, to the dorms, for the sake of saving time, and the lack......the lack of “human”. Yes, the lack of a distinct humanistic touch in a high school packed with people, one of the strictest in the country, and Lee had often wondered whether it was formulaic military discipline that yields incredible exam results each year which draws so many from coming to study there, or vice versa. She was your average student, not failing, but not excelling either. She had had a bit of trouble with her mental health which no one really paid attention to, and about the same time she had had a bit of trouble in English which the teachers took personally. For more than a month she was kept behind after everyone had gone back to their dorms and stayed in the English teachers’ office to go over words and definitions, meaning that her time to use the bathroom was pushed back even further. What stuck out from her memory was the time she was reciting the definition of a word to her teacher when she suddenly felt a leak, a huge leak, enough to soak her panties and dampen the crotch of her blue uniform trousers. Through tremendous effort she managed not to gasp and went over the definition perfectly, before finally allowed to leave. She darted towards the bathroom and let go of the pent-up liquid, somehow managing to stay calm despite the dull roar of emotions inside whose name she did not have the slightest idea. And that word was “Mellow”. All of a sudden Lee felt surprisingly calm. This exam room felt like her high school classroom and this paper felt like the ones she had done over and over again. Similarly, this bladder felt like her nemesis that had been straining her, draining her, for years, whose existence she had somehow accepted and may even feel uneasy without. She recrossed her legs in a practiced manner, making sure her urethra was sealed securely, before scribbling down the definition: “Relaxed, calm and happy; to become less extreme; to have a less bitter taste”. The next minutes went into a strange unreality. Not as an eureka moment, but slowly, gradually, as her pen moved stiffly across the answer sheet, Lee understood the reason behind why she did not raise her hand and ask to use the bathroom. She wanted control. Badly. Over her bladder, over herself, in any classroom, in any exam, over any situation she ended up in, over her fate which she never got to decide before Gaokao, in a way her old high school had dictated her, the only method beside excelling in all subjects with which she was able to demonstrate her potential not only as a student but as a human. The picture of her classmate sitting in a puddle flashed back one last time, and instead of sympathy Lee felt satisfaction, satisfaction that only scoring the highest in the city in this exam may yield. “Five minutes remaining.” Lee and felt a tear creep down her cheek. She could hear the crowds outside the window, she could see the twigs on the trees trembling in the breeze, and she could feel a familiar dampness in her crotch which reminded her that she still lost control a bit; but that did not matter. Nothing mattered except for the fact that she had at last succeeded, physically, mentally, and to be separated for these two, academically. She let down a barely audible whimper, pent up in her throat for as long as her urine had been pent up in her bladder. “Time is up.” Lee put down her pen. She could hear crowds cheering and cameras flashing outside the window. From the corner of her eye she glanced at the bathroom at the end of the hallway; it was empty, with its doors open and welcoming, waiting for her. She had won the battle over herself. With the last bit of her strength she closed her eyes, attempting to bottle up all her surroundings, her emotions, along with the contents of her bladder, in a space out of the reach of time - and let it mellow.
  10. Lexi looks up at the clock. She looks at how much of the exam she has left. She taps her foot and rests a hand on her belly. Her morning at home was chaotic and busy, stressing her out before exam was already pissing her off, but then getting to school with no time to use the toilet was infuriating. She is only halfway through the exam and she is already shifting side to side, letting out quiet farts and holding on. She has always been a very studious and committed student, never getting less than a B. Ditching the exam was not an option for Lexi, as much as her body was begging for it. The worst part was she didn’t just have to pee, her bowels were begging for release also. Both her front and rear were causing waves of relief denial as she approached the last 30mins of the exam. She was onto her last question of the paper. A long answer no less. A few hundred words. Usually a breeze for her, but in her current state, Lexi was struggling to do anything. She would usually have finished by now, but the cramps and holding back drastically slows her progress. She pushes through the pain and works on her final answer. When she finishes her answers she internally celebrates and lets out an audible sigh of relief. She instantly regrets this however as she feels a warmth between her legs. She manages to hold back her bladder from fully releasing, but at the expense of turtlenecking her load, surely browning her panties. She looks up at the clock, 5 more minutes till she can leave. She taps her foot and squirms in her seat as she bides her time. She puts a pen in her mouth to bite on to as she watches the second-hand tick away. The sensation of damp and sticky panties is unsettling, but thankfully its not long till she can run to the bathroom. Finally, the exam staff communicate the end of exam procedures and begin directing the rows of students out of the hall. Being the teachers pet that she is she sits near the front. Meaning she will have to wait for most other students to leave before she can. She groans in discomfort as her peers shuffle out before her, the noise covering her groan and her yelp as she leaks again. Finally, she gets directed to leave, she has already collected her things, she stands up and heads out hastily. She doesn’t dare check if her accident is visible, all that matters is making it to the loo before it gets any worse. She, as swiftly as she can muster with this intense pressure, marches down the halls towards the bathroom. Dogging and weaving through her peers, unaware of a few eyes that have noticed the small wet patch. She made it! She sees the toilets. She spots the many people in front of it, the long queue towards it. The queue! She stops dead in her tracks; her eyes tear up. This bathroom was her only hope, and that hope just died, she won’t survive that queue, nor will she make it to the other bathroom. Standing in the middle of the hallway with people shuffling around her, she involuntarily spreads her legs and doubles over, disassociating in this nightmare situation. Her face scrunches up as her body begins pushing. She no longer resists; her mind just goes blank as her body takes control. Grunting as she pushes log after log into her pants, piss gushing out, through her panties onto the floor. The piss splatters over her shoes, dampening her socks. The shit fills her panties and squishes forwards towards her pussy. Most people around her stop and get distance from her, their eyes glued to her. The hallway falls almost silent, apart from the hissing and crackling. She eventually finishes her business, and her mind reluctantly comes back to reality, the muffled background white noise becoming clear, chattering, laughing, teasing. Her eyes forced closed, in a vein attempted to deny the situation. Her legs go weak and she falls to her knees. Kneeling in her own puddle as she gives in to crying uncontrollably. If she weren’t in this situation she would probably still have more in the tank, but her body only got out all that it needed.
  11. Version 1.0.0

    1,063 downloads

    So I stumbled across this the other day and couldn't wait to share it with people. This hour long video is mostly a gynecological medical exam (so perfect for those with medical and gyno fetishes), but the premise is a young woman is doing the exam due to a bedwetting problem. It starts with her waking up in a wet pullup, with her 'mother' changing and scolding her, and her eventually being taken to a medical appointment while wearing a pullup diaper for extra humiliation. At the end of the exam (which is not at all accurate for anyone one who has ever had one, and is very much enema-focused) she puts the pullup back on and there's a discussion of her issue with her mother and the doctor ***Caution: This is Gyno Porn first, bedwetting content a distant third behind enema stuff. You have been warned, expect speculums (specula?), injections, breast exams, etc.*** ***Caution: Contains images of nudity, a needle, and a cervix*** Hope you enjoy! Rach
    Free
  12. This happened junior year of college. It was the week before finals, and i sat in the library, studying on my laptop... i had drank plenty of coffee all day, to stay focused. It was late afternoon, and i had last peed just after lunch. I have been needing to piss for a long while, but ignored it. I was reluctant to get up to go because i would have to pack my laptop in my backpack and take it with me. It seemed like too much of a hassle. I was almost done studying anyway and would go home. I could wait until home... I remained absorbed in my work for a while longer. But i couldn't ignore my bladder anymore. I had to pee very urgently and suddenly! I took my backpack and my laptop, and headed to the library bathroom. Getting up, i felt an even stronger pee urge. I walked faster. When i got to the toilets, I saw a line for the only available single person toilet. I was too embarrased to wait in line, so i rushed to the nearby physics building. I walked as fast as i could without running. I was bursting! I had a lot of coffee and was being too focused to notice the urge until it was an absolute pee mergency'! When i got to the, thankfully empty, men's room, I hurried to the nearest urinal. I couldn't help squirming a little as i undid my pants. I held it way too long! I pissed a hard and desperate stream fot 40 seconds or so. Relief flooded over me as i pissed.
  13. Saw this U.K. press piece today and couldn’t help thinking I’d love to watch a desperate student via webcam during an exam.... https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/12389519/students-urinate-bottles-maintain-eye-contact-exams/
  14. From the album: Nagito's desperate artwork

    The female student drank a drink to avoid stress during exams, but she seemed to be drinking too much and she was even more stressed.
  15. I’ve honestly never encountered this before. I was fine during my SATS. My GCSEs weren’t an issue. A-levels? Fine. Am I weird then? Because I keep seeing people talking about how bad it can get during exams, but it’s just not an use for me. Even on 3-4 hour exams. And I normally drink during them too, I carry water with me everything. Probably the closest I’ve ever and to an exam desperation experience is from during my GCSE Chemistry, but even then I could’ve held it to the end, I just went to the bathroom because I didn’t want to stare at a finished paper for 20 minutes.
  16. Sorry that it's been a while since my last (and only) post. I've been very busy with revision at the moment. Anyway, I'm writing about another exam wetting, but this time by yours truly. Last year I was doing my AS levels. They're exams you take in the UK age 16/17, and they're a big deciding factor for universities. As such, I was freaking out about my history paper on the European Witchcraze. I'd not been as good on that as I had been on my other subjects, so I was up most of the night before revising. Now, when I get nervous, I drink water. You'd have thought that I would know my limits, but I clearly don't. I'd probably drank the best part of a litre the morning before the exam. I went to the toilet before it started because I'm not a lunatic, but clearly a lot of it was still making its way through me. I walked into the vinyl wood floored exam hall with a litre bottle in hand, ready for the most stressful hours of that academic year. The questions I got weren't too bad, so I relaxed at bit, however, I got quite stuck towards the middle of the paper. Within the space of 45 minutes I drank most of my water, and this went through me very quickly. By the last half hour of the exam, I was fidgeting and bouncing up and down in my chair non-stop (in case you couldn't tell, my bladder is tiny). Aside from disturbing my bladder even more, I'd taken my blazer off because it was a hot day, so my boobs were jumping up and down in my shirt quite significantly, and I was aware of the attention I was starting to draw from a few people. I forced myself to sit still and concentrate, knowing that I couldn't afford to waste time going to the loo. A few minutes into this effort, I had pretty much failed. Although above my skirt, my hand was pressing so hard into my crotch that I was practically fingering myself. I took my hand away to turn a page and leaked. Significantly. Of course, I couldn't just check our my knickers in an exam hall, but I could feel how wet they were. Honestly, I was kind of turned on, but the stress and fear soon drowned that out. I'd leaked less significantly a few more times, focusing on the ticking of the clock in the echoey exam hall as I checked my work. With about five minutes to go, I leaked significantly again. It had gone through my skirt onto my chair, and I was very aware of the fact that I was sitting in a puddle of my own urine. At that moment I realised that, even if I could stand up without losing it, my mess would be glaringly obvious. I was wondering if I could call an invigilator over and ask to stay seated until everyone had left, when my body made that decision for me. I muttered "Oh God, no" and thrust my hands onto my urethra but it was too late. I could feel the piss rushing out of me at an incredible velocity. This speed meant that, when it hit the floor, it hit it hard. So hard, in fact, that my piss echoed. More than 100 people watched and listened as I pissed my pants. The worst part? I moaned in relief. I MOANED. Needless to say, I wasmortified. I stayed seated, tears streaming down me as everyone else exited the hall when the exam was finally over. By the time I could leave, my piss was ice cold, leaving me with soaking wet, freezing knickers pushed virtually inside me. I have to admit, I'm not too fond of the coldness after wetting, so this wasn't great for me. Now, I don't want to jinx anything, but that is hopefully the last time that I will piss myself in public (although, unfortunately, not the first).
  17. View File Bedwetting Medical Exam So I stumbled across this the other day and couldn't wait to share it with people. This hour long video is mostly a gynecological medical exam (so perfect for those with medical and gyno fetishes), but the premise is a young woman is doing the exam due to a bedwetting problem. It starts with her waking up in a wet pullup, with her 'mother' changing and scolding her, and her eventually being taken to a medical appointment while wearing a pullup diaper for extra humiliation. At the end of the exam (which is not at all accurate for anyone one who has ever had one, and is very much enema-focused) she puts the pullup back on and there's a discussion of her issue with her mother and the doctor ***Caution: This is Gyno Porn first, bedwetting content a distant third behind enema stuff. You have been warned, expect speculums (specula?), injections, breast exams, etc.*** ***Caution: Contains images of nudity, a needle, and a cervix*** Hope you enjoy! Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 06/12/2018 Category Bedwetting
  18. As most of you will know by now, I’ve had a recent resurgence of my overactive bladder (OAB) over the past few months. As a result, I’ve been having significantly more accidents than normal. For the past three years, any wetting accidents (other than ones planned and for fun), have been largely limited to: Stress leaks, as a result of big sneezes, working out hard, jumping and landing too hard, all on a full or mostly full bladder. I’ve had these all my life and they are entirely manageable, as I can pretty much predict them and take countermeasures. For example, I’ll wear a pad all the time during that one month in Vancouver when I’m suddenly allergic to something in the air and suffer from lots of sneezes. If I’m going for a jog, I always wear black running shorts (or tights) which conceal accidents and leaks very effectively, and if I’m doing some serious impact stuff (and lazy Rachel hasn’t for a while now), then I’ll pop a pad in my panties. I’m also going to invest in a cute running skirt, as this will cover up leaks even better and I loved a tennis skirt I recently got to wear and wet for a customer. Despite these measures I do have the occasional unpredicted leak, caused by a hearty laugh, an unexpected impact, sneeze or that sort of thing. Fortunately, unless my bladder is bursting, these accidents typically only result in a large wet spot on my panties, which seldom shows through my clothes. I’ve learned to live with these very occasional occurrences by always packing a spare pair of panties in a Ziploc baggie in my purse, and not getting in the habit of wandering about, far from washrooms, with a super full bladder. I can still trigger one of these accidents, rather easily it would appear (given the fun I’ve been having with pads lately), and they are pretty similar. I should point out that on a super full bladder, the accident can be more serious, as I have difficulty stopping once I start, and once triggered by a stressor, my bladder can release a decent amount when full. Fortunately I’ve not had one of these accident in many year (though I came close on Black Friday…) Very rare bedwetting incidents. Prior to November, I had maybe two or three of these a year and they were all triggered by my going to bed with a pretty full bladder after drinking wine (or other booze). I’ve been adulting a lot lately, and not had occasions to do a lot of heavy student-like drinking, and as a result, my bed (and husband) were keeping dry. Even when I had been drinking, I would almost always put on protection before going to bed (almost always a Goodnite) and if I was too forgone to remember, my loving husband would often help me out. Up until November, these were the only issues I had to worry about, and they were not serious. However, in November, I wet the bed, on a random and non-party night, and then started getting more OAB symptoms. These included more wet nights, even after countermeasures (like reducing fluids, double voiding, avoiding some foods and that sort of thing), as well as some key-in-latch leaks and more serious accidents, and surprise urges that would cause me to need to rush to the bathroom ‘right now!’ some of which have resulted in those key-in-latch accidents. I grew up with these symptoms, and am very familiar with them. Growing up, we tried all sorts of things, so many that I won’t go into the list. I also think my mind fetishized wetting and diapers as a partial coping mechanism, though I’m sure there’s some more complicated psychology going on behind the scenes as well. Nothing much worked, apart from one medication, which I only used when I was travelling due to uncomfortable side effects, and which only really reduced the size of my night time accidents and the number of random urges I’ll got during the day. Then, when I was just graduating as an undergraduate, a new treatment emerged, which uses Botox injections into the overactive bladder muscles, thereby calming them down (to use totally non-technical terms). Well, we tried this, and after a really uncomfortable and embarrassing procedure, and a couple of weeks, it worked! I can’t say how happy I was! I went off to grad school, lost my virginity, slept over with boys, travelled around the world, had my heart broken, got married, and all sorts of things. Things I would have never done if I’d been wetting the bed each night, and having daytime urge issues. Well, the treatment is only expected to last 3 years or so. The Botox only calms the muscles down for so long. Well more than three years ago, I was in the early stages of my relationship with my husband (who was then my like 4th boyfriend), and the symptoms came back. I won’t rehash what happened, as it’s covered here (First diaper cuddle), but to summarize, Rachel had to make the decision to either come out to her boyfriend and tell him about her bedwetting issues, or find a new boyfriend (or more likely be single until I could get another treatment). Well Rachel gritted her teeth and steeled her strength, and spent her first night laying next to her now husband, wearing a diaper. Anyhow that was well over three years ago, and I was getting happy with having a pretty typical bladder again (a very high number of women have some stress incontinence issues, so even this is pretty typical). November, though I should have been expecting it, kind of came as a surprise. Because I know the deal by now, I scheduled an appointment with my urologist after my 3rd wet night. Since my unexpected wet night, I’ve wet the bed at least twice a week, and over the past two weeks, I’ve been wet three to four times. I’ve been wearing Goodnites to bed every night, and these have been keeping my bed (and husband) dry. The new Goodnites will hold an entire Rachel bladder, unless she is bursting, in which case, they leak a tiny amount, but these little spots are almost always dry by morning. I’ve been doing all the necessary lifestyle stuff I mentioned before bed as well. During the day I’ve re-established my using the bathroom ‘just in case’ policy more often, and in the most recent weeks, I’ve been wearing pads regularly. As a result, I’ve had few serious daytime incidents, though I have had a good number of leaks necessitating panty changes and pad replacements, and a few bigger accidents (which I’ll tell you about, or already have). This is also a little annoying because I’ve been selling my used panties to customers and not all of them want panties which have been peed in, accidents have required me to wash the panties and start wearing them all over again. All of this hasn’t stopped me from enjoying my fetish, and as I’m using them more often, I’ve been on a bit of a pad binge lately. I’ve kind of been enjoying wearing protection to bed and cuddling the hubby. It’s winter and often chilly at night, and cuddling in a diaper is a lovely feeling. Waking up wet it much less enjoyable, but the Goodnite makes it as manageable as possible. Oh and on a random note, I’ve also been leaking a lot more during sex, meaning that we’ve been going through a decent amount of towels on a good week. So this has been the past two months for me, and the OAB issues have been getting gradually a little worse, despite the precautions I’ve been taking. I’ve been waiting for my urologist appointment for quite some time, and it’s the first step I need to take in order to get a referral for the Botox treatment. The waiting list to see my urologist is longer than the list to get the Botox treatment, so my hope has been to get the old bladder working before the end of February. In anticipation of the appointment, I’ve been keeping a voiding diary (and actually I’ve been using an App on my phone, which is more geared towards kids, but kinda fun. DryDawn lets me print off reports for my urologist and is kinda cute). Well this past Friday I finally went in to see my urologist. Now in the past, when I was visiting my urologist more often, I would often experiment, just a little. In the UK my urologist would make you do a flow test and ultrasound every appointment, even if they were only 3 months apart, so I started experimenting a little. This included wearing a diaper to one appointment, and even ‘planning’ an accident at another. It is wrong to include others non-consensually in your kink, but I felt like in this case it wasn’t the same, as these were things I would actually do normally. For example, the ‘planned ultrasound accident’ was really a recreation of a real accident I had had at an appointment when I was in high school. I don’t see my Canadian urologist nearly as often, and so the redundant ultrasounds and flow tests don’t happen. I considered planning another accident, as I recall the emotions associated with this accident a lot still when I’m masturbating and they very often push me over the edge. But I have already done this, and besides, due to the increased inconvenience of my recent wettings, and the rarity with which I see my urologist, I felt like this might be a distraction. Also, given my current bladder situation, I don’t think I could hold nearly as much liquid, and I would almost certainly lose control of the situation very quickly. So this urologist appointment was going to be all business, or mostly business. Leading up to the appointment I was concerned about leaks and real accidents. To do an ultrasound (and flow test) you are asked to arrive with a ‘comfortably full bladder.’ Now because, as I’ve noted above, a full bladder puts me at considerable risk of having a real accident when my OAB symptoms kick in, I struggled to come up with just what a ‘comfortably full bladder’ would feel like for me. These days, a full bladder might be physically comfortable, but leave me super nervous about accidents. I settled on the solution of wearing protection to the appointment, and to add a little thrill to the experience, I would wear a Goodnite, rather than a more mature-looking Always or Depends pullup, or a more discreet pad. Now I’ve worn protection to numerous appointments in the past. My history of having real accidents when wandering about with a full bladder, or when a doctor pressed a freezing cold ultrasound wand on my distended bladder, has taught me to do this. In the past I’ve worn bulky incontinence pads to appointments, and these have often necessitated changing afterwards. One I have worn a Goodnite to an appointment, and the technician did not bat an eyelid at them when they pulled down the front of my pants to do the ultrasound. But this was only once, and my heart was pounding the whole time. So, for Friday’s appointment, I decided that once again, I would wear a Goodnite to the appointment, and see what happened. I woke up wet and therefore started my day with a shower. So in preparation for the 1:40 appointment I kept well hydrated all morning and used the washroom several times. My morning two mugs of green tea went through me like a flood. I printed off my voiding diary and bladder stats, and checked some emails. At 11 am I got ready to leave, the appointment was across town and required some complicated use of buses and the Skytrain, and I didn’t want to arrive late. My plan was to arrive early and read a book in a nearby café before heading over to the office. Before I left, I changed out of the PJs I was wearing around the house, and into one of the owl-print Goodnites I love so much. Overtop I pulled a pair of my Little Mermaid boy-short panties (my cute green ones). I typically always wear panties overtop of diapers when I’m wearing out in public, this makes changing easier as you can just tear off the Goodnite, and also cuts down on noise. The panty waistband can also offer some added discretion if the panties are sufficiently large. I then pulled on a pair of light jeans. If I did have an accident, the Goodnites would almost certainly catch everything, however they leaked, I didn’t want to make things easier for me. I put a tank top over my bra, buttoned up a blouse and put on a nice jumper over top. I put on some makeup and grabbed my book, purse and phone, and headed out into the world around 11:30. Not bad prep time actually ;) I did have pads and my usual spare pair of panties in my purse, but did not bring a larger bag with say a change of pants. I used the washroom right before leaving the house, as I’d filled up during my preparations. I brought a small water bottle and some snacks as well. I therefore left the house in my Goodnite, I was filled with mixed and complicated emotions. I read my book in transit and was acutely aware of the diaper I was wearing. I’ve worn out in public tons of times, both for fun and out of need. Sometimes this seems like a normal thing and I quickly almost forget about the protection I’m wearing. Other times I’ll we aware of it all the time, and worry about leaks or peeks. Today, given what was going to transpire in the early afternoon, I was very aware of the protection I was wearing and made sure my larger jumper covered the waistband of my jeans when I moved about. The transit gods smiled on me, and I arrived at the general vicinity of the urologist’s office with lots of time to spare, it was about 1 pm when I arrived, and so I headed over to a small independent café across the street and ordered a large tea. My water bottle was empty at this point and I could feel myself filling up. I was at about a 4 on the old desperation scale; the point where I was comfortable, and would likely not use the washroom just in case, unless I was about to depart on a long car ride, or that sort of thing. I settled down and read my book for half an hour. At about 1:20 pm, I felt like I was would not be full enough for the appointment, and since I’d already finished my tea, I had a glass of water and I filled my water bottle from the water jug as well. I downed this, and was feeling to be about a 6 or a 7 when I got up at 1:30 pm and wandered over to the office to check in. Now the reason I didn’t fill up to the point of jumping about and/or needing to hold myself, was that despite the fact that I was schedule for 1:40 pm, I’ve almost never been to an appointment with a urologist that wasn’t running behind. It has something to do with the tests they do and other factors, but they never seem to be on time. My UK clinic had a sign that said “if your appointment is 45 minutes late, see the nurses at the front,” largely because people are regularly arriving with full bladders and 45 minutes was a typical, albeit horribly long, wait for the office. I signed in and the friendly woman at the front desk, who was about my age, maybe a little older, but who was wearing far too much makeup, confirmed my address, and asked me if I needed to pee. It’s always a little embarrassing to have a stranger ask you this, and I must have blushed a little because she broke eye contact, but I confirmed that yes, I did have to go. “We are running about 15 minutes late, will you be ok?” she asked. I thought about it for a little bit, but given my current situation, another 15 or 20 minutes seemed reasonable. I was feeling a little brave as well, and I thought downing my water bottle over this time as well. I confirmed that I would be ok, still blushing, and she directed me to take a seat. The waiting room was small and cramped. It constituted about 8 chairs around a small alcove (three on each side and two on the back), with a table strewn with magazines, OAB leaflets, and other brochures. There was a sad looking fake plant in the corner, and a water cooler near the entrance with little paper cups. The alcove is off to the right when you come in the entrance of the office, but no immediately to the right, this is the washroom, marked with a generic sign. The nurses/receptionist desk is off to the left with a hall leading into the examination rooms beside it. The reception desk is not too far from the waiting alcove and I nervously thought that everyone in the waiting room could hear our conversation, despite my hushed tone. I took off my jacket and grabbed a seat between two people. I looked around the waiting room, and there were a number of other people there. I don’t really recall all the details, but it was sufficiently crowded that I needed to take a seat between two people. I chose the seat in the corner on the right hand side, next to the sad-looking plant. To my left was an elderly woman sitting next to an elderly man. I assumed they were a couple, as they exchanged quiet words from time to time. To my right was a 40-something woman with who I assume was her daughter of 13 or 14 sitting beside her. Sitting across from me was an older man, maybe in his 50s or 60s, who was sitting in the middle of the three seats on this side. I felt more comfortable sitting between the two women. Walking in I smiled awkwardly at the other people in the waiting room but didn’t get much of a response. The young girl was playing on her phone (or some device), her mother was reading a magazine. The man across from me was sitting there waiting quietly, and the couple to my left were similarly waiting, though every so often one of them would explore the materials on the table. Everyone looked relatively relaxed, and by this I mean no one was sitting on their heel, bouncing up and down, or holding themselves. I opened my bag and removed my book, and continued reading. Every so often I would look up, distracted by a movement from a fellow patient. I deduced that the woman in the couple next to me was likely the patient, and that her husband was there for support. It was also not hard to deduce that the young girl was the patient brought by her mother (as otherwise she would have been in school). I commiserated with her, as I’ve been in her exact place before. I continued to read but was becoming increasingly full. Again feeling a little exhibitionistic, I decided that I would play at being a little more desperate than I actually was. I crossed my legs, and wiggled my foot. After about 5 minutes a woman in a long coat walked out from the examination room hallway, exchanged a few words with the woman at the reception, and headed out. A few minutes later a female nurse in her 40s walked out and spoke with the receptionist, and then called a name. The older man across from me stood up and followed her inside. I was now at about an 8 on the desperation scale and beginning to worry, just a little. It was a only 1:45pm, but given the number of people in the waiting room, I was expecting a longer than 15 minute wait. I was most worried about having a bladder spasm, as I was pretty sure I could last at least another 20 minutes without too much difficulty, and perhaps longer if need be, but if my bladder decided to send me an urge spasm, I was at the point now where I would likely only barely make it to the nearby washroom, if at all. I was also super nervous, my heart was pounding in time with my jiggling foot, and I noticed I wasn’t making much progress on my book. I bookmarked my spot, and decided to abandon my reading. I squeezed my legs together more tightly, and reminded myself that I was wearing reliable protection, and that I could always get up and ask to use the washroom ‘to relieve pressure’ if I absolutely had to. But this didn’t quite comfort me, I suppose my intentional desperate body language was tricking my brain into thinking I was more desperate than I was. The young girl tugged on her mother’s sleeve and whispered something in her ear, and her mother responded quietly back. The older couple sat in amiable silence. And I sat there, legs tightly twisted together, jiggling my foot desperately. This tableau continued for some time, until about 1:55pm (I checked my phone), when a different middle-aged female nurse came out and called another name. This time the older couple got up, and, after taking some time gathering their things, they followed the nurse in. As the waiting room emptied, I could feel eyes on me. I looked up and could see the receptionist looking my way, inquisitively. Glancing about I also briefly saw the eyes of the young girl staring at me, before they were quickly averted. I was still at about an 8.5 but my desperation was increasing significantly. I had to decide if I was going to hold myself or sit on my heel. I opted for holding myself, because if I did have a leak while sitting on my heel there was a very good chance that the Goodnite might leak. I carefully uncrossed my legs and keeping them tightly squeezed together. I was no longer play-acting desperate body language, I was honestly desperate. It was 2:00 pm and my appointment was nowhere in sight. I moved my purse to my lap to provide cover, and once it was there, I carefully moved my hand underneath and pressed two fingers between my legs. All the while, I could not keep my foot from jiggling. At about this time, another patient came in through the office door and checked in with the receptionist. This time it was an older man, probably in his 60s, and after speaking with the receptionist, he moved to assume the spot across from me. He smiled as he came into the waiting area, and made some comment about the weather. The woman and her daughter ignored him and had another whispered exchange. As a result, I felt like the comment was directed at me and that social pressure dictate that I respond (I was no longer reading after all). Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to have a lengthy conversation, lest my desperation be audible in the sound of my voice, I gave a non-committal answer. He tried for conversation a second time, and this time cheerfully asked something like: “You been here before?” I wasn’t going to escape from this conversation that easily, and so, hand still surreptitiously holding myself under my purse, I made light conversation, or tried to. My foot was wiggling uncontrollably now, and I my legs were shaking a little. I responded something like “Yes, this is my first time to this doctor.” This is a new urologist for me, I’m relatively new to the city and I’ve usually gone to a clinic near our flat when I need medication or for general checkups. I went there in November to get a referral to a urologist, it’s really hard to find a family doctor in Vancouver, but the local clinic knows me pretty well. I feel more comfortable once I’ve had the same doctor a couple of times, I am always embarrassed by raised eye brows and probing questions from new doctors reading my file for the first time. The older man was giving off the vibe of someone who does not quite pick up on subtle social cues, like the curt answer I had just delivered, or perhaps he was super desperate and talking took his mind off of it. Either way, he pressed on. “I’m here because of the old prostate, never been to this kinda doctor before.” I’ve tried to capture his friendly but colloquial manner, also this is sort of an approximation of the conversation, it’s surprisingly hard to remember things when you are bursting. “So your first time too then.” He finished, which was not quite a question. I felt compelled to answer him, rather than give a non-committal ‘uh huh,’ but also not wanting to give this man my life story coupled with my medical history. “No, I’ve had a number of doctors, this is just my first time here.” I clarified. Now don’t forget, I was edging towards a 9 on the desperation scale, though I was still holding on at an 8.5, my hand offering whatever support it could between my legs, hopefully shielded from view by my purse. The padding of the combination of my jeans and the diaper I was wearing made my two fingers not as effective as if I’d been wearing a thin dress… or if my hand were inside my Goodnite. Unfortunately this would have been wildly inappropriate, but a girl can dream. At the edge of my vision I could see the girl and her mother exchanging more whispers. I was very preoccupied with my own situation, but I think I could see clear signs of desperation in the girl. “Oh,” he intoned, perhaps now picking up on my flat disengaging tone. But no, he pressed on. Who makes idle conversation in a doctors waiting room? “You been waiting long?” He asked, thankfully steering the conversation in another direction. “Um,” using this opportunity to press my thighs together more closely, which was hard given that my legs were shaking. I know that sitting sort of hunched over in this fashion is not the most effective way to hold your pee when you are super desperate, but it was the only position I could take given the type of chairs and my need to hold myself. Checking my phone required an awkward one armed maneuver into my purse. I looked at my phone and it said 2:08 pm. “Um not too long, maybe half an hour.” I replied vaguely, slipping my phone back into my bag. Fool! I should have pretended to check a message or something to escape the conversation. “Oh, that long huh? Well, you look like you need to go badly.” He observed in a tone that implied that he commiserated with my situation. I could feel my face burn as I blushed crimson. I was horrified. He must have noticed, as he let the conversation thankfully trail off at this point. I was pretty desperate, and I’m sure it was rather obvious, but there is something utterly embarrassing about a stranger noticing and pointing out these signs. I had the fleeting desire to deny the need to go, like a child caught holding themselves and bouncing about might do when confronted by an adult and asked if the needed to go. But I was too embarrassed, and still thinking clearly used this awkward moment to try to extricate myself from the conversation. At this point the girl whispered something else to her mother, who stood up, and made her way to the receptionist, where she asked a question. Probably the question we were all wondering. The receptionist responded in a voice that carried over into the waiting room, something along the lines of “It should not be much longer, no more than 10 minutes.” And then she said something else in a quieter tone and had a short, hushed conversation with the woman. My mind did some quick math and thinking. So 15 minutes, who did that apply to? Was it the estimate for the young girl and mother, and who was first? If I was first, and the receptionist was predicting 15 minutes, then I was likely going to be seen right away. But if they were going to be seen first, then did I have to wait another 20 to 25 minutes? How many technicians were they operating? If it was just one then it might take longer. If it was two, then surely I’d be seen shortly. My mind raced and this was nice, as it sort of took my mind off my growing desperation. I did take a moment to contemplate just going in my Goodnite, this was one of the reasons I had chosen to wear it, in case there were delays, in case I had a bad urge and couldn’t make it to the washroom on time, and also for the little thrill of wearing it in a situation where it would be seen. But I also was not sure about my ability to stop after having initiated a flow. And while the new Goodnites are pretty good and do hold almost a full Rachel bladder, I definitely had a full Rachel bladder at this point. It would likely leak. Plus sitting down makes leaks unpredictable. Not only this, but you are supposed to have a full bladder for these tests, and if I emptied my bladder into the diaper (or in the washroom literally next to me), I would have to wait for it to refill. Yes, there was the option of trying to half empty my bladder in either the toilet or my Goodnite, but I really didn’t think I could stop the flow mid-way through, it would be more like at the last quarter if I was luck. While all this was racing through my head, the man, perhaps realizing his social faux pas was rummaging around on the table for a magazine, and the mother and daughter were exchanging words in very hushed tones. I didn’t catch much at all, only a few snippets. But after a few more words, the girl handed her phone to her mother and walked around the corner to the washroom. I’m pretty sure I know what had been discussed. Clinics will always let you use the washroom if you are desperate to go, and they ask you to just release a little, to remove the pressure. As I was just discussing, this isn’t really an option available to me, but it is very common. Worst case of course you empty your whole bladder and then have to sit there for however long it takes to refill it using the little paper cups from the water cooler. It was 2:11 pm. With only three of us in the waiting area, and my inclination leaning towards jumping in the loo as soon as the girl returned, I finally spotted the first nurse walking to the receptionist. They spoke very briefly and there was a point. Then I heard my name. “Kirwan? Kirwan?” I pulled my hand out from between my legs and jumped up. This was perhaps ill-advised as it sent shocks of desperation through my abdomen. I hurried over, forgetting my jacket in the waiting room. “Yes, that’s me.” I gasped. “Ready?” Ask the kindly looking nurse. Like I mentioned, she was in her 40s, and had long black hair. She was a little over weight, but in a way that indicated that she’d likely had a couple of children. I nodded vigorously, and followed her down the hall. She made small talk as we walked. “Sorry we were running a little late… Would you like to use the washroom before we do the ultrasound? Just to let off a little pressure?” She asked kindly. “Better not,” I replied. Walking seemed to have reduced my acute desperation for the time being, and I felt like I had settled in to an 8.5. And then, feeling like some explanation was needed, and blushing a little, I added “It’s hard for me to stop once I get going.” “Oh that’s ok, we’ll be super quick.” She replied. “That’s the washroom for after.” She gestured towards a clearly marked door on our right. “And we will be in here.” She gestured to a room almost across the hall from the washroom to the left. The hallway continued along a ways and I noticed other doors and trolleys and baskets along the sides of the hallway out of the corner of my eye as we turned into the room. “So you’ve done this before?” The nurse asked. For some reason the rooms where they do ultrasounds always seem darker than they should, it’s a little strange. Anyhow, I was in no condition to observe the room too closely. The abatement to my desperation due to walking was gone, and I was at a 9. It wasn’t a ‘the pee is coming now’ kind of 9, but it was certainly a ‘you need to find a washroom in the next two minutes or it’s going to happen’ kind of 9. I concentrated hard on controlling my bladder. “Yeah, a couple of times.” I replied, almost not hearing her answer. “You can put your purse here if you like,” said the nurse, helpfully gesturing to a couple of chairs to the right of the door. I did so, and then hurried to the table. Knowing the process by this point, I undid the top button of my jeans. I lay on my back and rolled up my tops, revealing my naked belly. “Ok, so I’ll only scan your bladder now, then you can use the washroom, it’s all set up for your flow test. When you come back, I’ll scan for residual and do your kidneys, sound good?” She asked, while rolling the ultrasound machine over to the side of the table. “I really have to go.” I admitted a little panicky, and blushing just a little. For some reasons it’s easier to tell a medical practitioner these things, rather than say a random guy. “Don’t worry I’ll be quick.” She replied. “Would you mind undoing those a little?” She gestured towards my jeans. While I had undone the button, I had no touched the fly at all. They need to scan your full bladder for these kinds of ultrasounds, and this usually involves them having to pull down the waistband of your trousers. I am fully aware of this, having done a dozen or so ultrasounds in my day, and as I mentioned, would almost always wear a pad to these tests, and a pair of panties which look dignified, so not my adorable little mermaid panties. Today I had broken both of these practices, and was wearing green Little Mermaid panties overtop of a Goodnite. Not quite caring at this point, but also getting a secret exhibitionistic rush, I undid my fly, and pulled it all the way down. And for good measure (and to avoid getting the ultrasound goo on my jeans), I shimmied my pants down a little, wiggling my bum. In so doing I revealed the top inch of the waistband of the Goodnites, and the top portion of my panties. The Little Mermaid emblem is on the bum of the panties, so this was not visible, and they would appear to the casual observing nurse, to be a normal pair of green panties. My desperation was a powerful all-consuming force at this point, and I considered just releasing. Wetting a Goodnite while laying on your back is one of the safer positions in which to flood it. It is when you lay on your side that you have to worry about leaks. I decided to hold on until after the test, as I could make it, if it happened now. The nurse pulled out a piece of thin paper and, pulling the waistband of my diaper and panties down a little ways, tucked it in, she tucked in a second piece of paper next to it. “This will keep your …” She paused, and then quickly re-phrased, “This will stop the gel from getting on your clothes.” I was blushing in the low light of the room. My heart was pounding and I could feel my adrenaline rising. This was that exquisite exhibitionistic thrill suffuses my body in panicky energy. My diaper was obvious. She has clearly seen the upper purple waistband of the Goodnite, and had been about to say something like ‘keep your underwear or clothes dry’ or something like that, but had quickly stopped herself. I was not imagining things. I couldn’t help but close my eyes for a moment. And I only opened them when I felt the warm gel being rubbed all over my belly. I remember when the gel was cold, but at some point in my lifetime of bladder issues, a genius had added a gel warmer to the ultrasound trolley. I, and probably millions of women (and men) are thankful for this, I’m sure. The nurse pressed the want into my bulging bladder. It was clearly visible protruding right above the thin paper, which covered my Goodnite, a round softball, crying out for release. I watched her move the wand around my belly, looking at the screen to her left as she did so. She pressed firmly with the wand, and I could not resist letting out a little gasp. Did I let out a few drops as well? I wasn’t sure. “It’s ok, almost done.” She intoned, sensing my growing desperation. The wand moved about over my stretched skin. Over and around my bulging bladder. The pressure from the wand was considerable, and pushed me into the 9.5-10 level of desperation. I don’t know if others have shared this experience with me, but at this point, when your body is ready to override you mental commands and release your bladder, you sometimes have difficulty actually peeing? Well this was what happened to me now. I felt an acute sharpness in my bladder and then, in a millisecond of panic, I relaxed my sphincter mentally. But it did not respond right away. It was as if it wanted to take some sort of victory lap after the impressive accomplishment of keeping me from an accident for so long. “All done.” The nurse said, whipping the gel off my belly with a scratchy piece of paper towel. As she removed the two pieces of paper from my waistband, I could feel a tiny amount of pee escaping into the Goodnite. Not a spurt, but a steady flow, only it was very thin, as though all of the effort in holding back my pee had really tightened up my urethra, turning my normal wide flow into a thin jet. I gasped a little, or moaned, I’m not sure which, but I made some kind of vocalization, and I’m not sure if it gave away my predicament. “Ok, I’ll get the commode set up for your flow test, can you wait another few seconds?” She ask. “I just need to push on button.” She added, moving over to the door and opened it. Had she closed it when we came in? She must have, but I didn’t remember. I didn’t bother to do up my button or pull down my sweater. I was tempted to hold myself to provide a final bit of support as I made my way to the toilet, now within my view. But I held off, this would only make pulling down my bottoms all the more difficult. Instead, I used one of my hands to hold my pants up, and followed her out across the hall into the washroom. All the while my bladder slowly released. She fiddled with the buttons attached to the commode for what seemed like ages, though it was probably only a second or two. The commodes that they use for these kinds of flow tests are like normal toilets with raised seats. Inside the toilet bowl is a sensor which detects how fast your flow is, and if there are any disruptions or that sort of thing. As I stepped into the washroom and with the toilet in sight I could feel the flow of pee jetting into my Goodnite widen just a little bit. Could I almost make out a faint hiss of pee hitting the material of the diaper? I was standing there staring at the toilet, my way barred by a friendly and helpful nurse. I blushing furiously, thinking she could hear me peeing myself. Stopping was not an option at this point. Though the flow seemed to be slower than normal. I still felt like my urethra was narrower than normal – letting out a thinner-than-normal jet of pee, though a jet of pee none the less. I was also thinking feverishly; trying to decide whether I should pull down everything, and risk getting my jeans wet, or whether I should just worry about the jeans and panties and fishing sitting on the toilet in my Goodnites, with the toilet catching the overflow (because this Goodnite was going to over flow, I could just feel it). I decided, and felt around with the fingers of each of my hands, feeling for the waistband of my panties. The toilet beeped. “Ok, all set,” The nurse stepped away from the toilet. Only a couple of seconds had passed. I was at the toilet in an instant. Still freely peeing into my Goodnite, in a fluid motion I pulled my jeans and underwear down, turned, and plunked myself down on the toilet. My body released and I flooded the Goodnite, suffusing my labia a hot wetness. “Come back over when you are done.” The nurse intoned from the door of the washroom. When she said this I was jarred from my reverie of relief and looked up to see her standing at the bathroom door. In my haste to get onto the toilet, I’d forgotten about privacy. I’d not given her time to exit the washroom before I yanked down my jeans and panties. She quickly turned and closed the door behind her. I was awash in emotions: The sense of blissful relief resulting from finally getting to pee. Pride, in having held on for so long, and for having made what I think was a good choice about not pulling down the pullup. And horrifying embarrassment at having pulled down my pants in front of the nurse, magnified because I had done so wearing a cute owl print Goodnite diaper. My heart was pounding as though I’d just done wind sprints or stairs, and my system was suffused with adrenaline. My original plan had been to get a little thrill of excitement from having a stranger see the waistband of my Goodnites, and also the fun of public desperation in a safe setting. I had not planned for the nurse to see my entire diapered bottom half, or to release right before reaching the washroom. I suppose if I’d thought through my plan, and given the current behaviour of my bladder these past few months, that a key-in-latch leak was likely, but I suppose I underplayed this. Or slightly miscalculated my fluids. Or the wait was longer than I had planned. Maybe I should have tried to release while back in the waiting room. That felt like hours ago. I could hear the tinkling sound of pee overflowing the Goodnite and dripping into the toilet. I reached down and pulled down on the gusset to allow pee to escape there. The tinkle was replaced with a brief fwoosh, and then resumed, as pee simply rolled off the Goodnites gusset and into the toilet. If I don’t do this, the seal of the gathers on the new Goodnites is so good that sometimes the pee will overflow up the back or up the front and escape along the upper sides of the absorbent section or even the top (if I’m laying down for example). I was not keen on getting my cloths wet, or having to wipe down the floor. The pee was warm against my fingers. I could hear the hiss of my pee as it overwhelmed the diaper. It is hard to recall just how long I peed for, given the strange stilted start, but it was certainly a good minute, probably a little longer. As I was finishing, I was rocked with another wave of panic. Remember a few moments ago when I had a vague sense of pride at having correctly decided that I should leave the Goodnites up to protect my clothes? Well I had forgotten that I was supposed to be doing a flow test. The whole reason the nurse had been in the washroom at all was to turn the machine one. Despite the fact that a decent amount of pee was dripping into the toilet from the overwhelmed Goodnite, I was not doing the test correctly. Most of the pee, had been absorbed into the Goodnite. At this point I was pretty overwhelmed by everything and gave a couple of large panicky breaths. I worked at calming myself down, still sitting on the toilet wearing the bloated and wet Goodnite. I hastily tore the sides of the Goodnite and carefully pulled it up the front. If you let the front flop down, it risks spilling unabsorbed pee everywhere, and I had not come this far to get my panties and jeans (still around my ankles) wet. Some additional pee dripped into the commode. I rolled the wet diaper up and put it on the ground beside me. It dripped a little. I reached for the toilet paper and carefully wiped and dried myself. This took several wads. I also used one to wipe my eyes. At some point a couple of tears had escaped. My heart was still pounding, and I was almost shaking from the adrenalin. Fully dry, I pulled up my panties and jeans, did them up, and then picked up the wet Goodnite and deposited it in the garbage which had been just out of reach when I was sitting on the toilet. Heavy with pee, it sunk into the paper towel there. I washed my hands and added another few flowers of paper on top of it. I wet down a wad of paper towel with cool water and held it over my face to cool it, as it felt like it was on fire. There was a knock. “Everything ok?” I heard the nurse inquire through the door. “Yes, thank you” I stammered, my voice breaking. I heard a shuffling on the other side, and moved to lock the door. I then spent a couple of minutes composing myself and taking deep breaths. I looked around the washroom finally. Apart from the usual stuff, there was the commode, and beside it a urinal. The top of the commode had a panel with buttons and a piece of paper, that looked a lot like a receipt from the grocery story, had been spit out. I’ve seen these before. The machine spits out a paper copy of your flow. I asked one of my old urologists about the purpose of the flow test many exams ago, and the answer is that they are looking for irregularities. People with prostate issues will start and stop and create peaks and valleys on the sheet. Those with trouble starting will have a certain kind of line. I looked at my sheet of paper, and saw a couple of little bumps and then a big hump, followed by a low and bumpy line. This would be wholly useless as a diagnostic tool for my urologist, not that I’ve ever had issues with flow. I wasn’t concerned about the diagnostic implications of what had happened, but I still could not think of a way to explain it to the nurse without dying of embarrassment. I had been in the washroom for about 8 minutes when I realized that I had filled up a little. In the past, when I’ve done these tests, if they test you and find that you still have more than a couple of mils of residual they ask for you to try again. Hoping to avoid this, I pulled my jeans and panties back down and peed for another dribbling ten seconds on the commode. I wiped and washed my hands. I knew I could not remain in the washroom for much longer without worrying the nurse, and still with no idea about what I would say, I took the little piece of paper with further evidence of my shame, unlocked the bathroom door, and walked across the hall to the ultrasound room. I saw the nurse down the hall as I did so. It looked as though she was talking to the receptionist. I entered the empty room and sat in the chair next to my purse. I heard the nurse walking down the hall, arrive at the intersection of the examination room and washroom and turn into the washroom. She moved around in there for a short while and then returned to the examination room. “Everything ok?” She inquired, even toned and professional but with a hint of genuine concern. “I… Um…” I was still not sure exactly how to explain what had happened. And opening my mouth didn’t seem to help. She quickly saved me the trouble by interrupting my stammering. “Don’t worry, the flow test isn’t necessary, it’s ok.” The nurse said comfortingly, reaching down and removing the piece of paper which I was clutching between two fingers. “I can take this.” I was grateful that she had cut me off before I began to explain. I’m still not exactly sure what I would have said. However, her cutting me off in this way indicated to me that she knew exactly what had happened (or close enough to it), having seen the first part and extrapolated. “All right, let’s scan you now that you are empty, can you hop back up on the table please?” She asked politely in a chipper tone. I stood up, a little apprehensive and once again undid my jeans button. I also unzipped them and shimmied them down a little before I crawled back up on the examination table. In case it wasn’t obvious to her before, it was clear that I had wet my Goodnite, or at least removed it. This time she slipped the two pieces of thin paper underneath the waistband of my panties, and went about slathering on the ultrasound gel. I made eye contact with her for a minute and she smiled politely and reassuringly, as only a good professional nurse can do. The second part of the test took considerably longer than the first part. She once again scanned my bladder, saying something like, “Good, residual is only Xmls.” Feeling like I had to chime in at this point, I gathered up my courage and added “I used the toilet a second time.” Though I could have provided more detail, I couldn’t bring myself to. “Oh that’s good,” she replied. I was then instructed to roll onto each of my sides so that she could scan each of my kidneys. She was very thorough. I lay there, heart still pounding but slowing a little, as she rolled the wet gel-covered ultrasound probe over my lower body. The kidney scan takes considerably longer, as they always look for issues and stones and the like, and I was grateful that this was (and typically is) done after you’ve had the chance to empty your bladder. She finished and wiped the gel off my sides. “Ok, I’ll just put all of this in your file and show you to the consultation room, Dr. Y will be with your shortly.” She informed me. The test over, I sat up from the bed, and hopped off. I pulled up and then did up my jeans, and went over to the chair by the door where I had deposited my purse. While I was doing this the nurse jotted some notes down in my file, and then stapled the little slip of paper from my ‘failed’ flow test into the coloured folder. I waited politely by the down, face downcast for a few moments while she completed her notes. She then got up from the little wheelie stool that she had been sitting on in order to do the test, and headed out of the room. “Just this way.” I followed her out and to the left down the hall. We turned once and then she showed me into a typical consultation room. “Just have a seat and Dr. Y will be with you shortly.” She informed me again, smiling at me kindly. I opted to sit in one of the chairs in the room, rather than the examination table, as I wasn’t expecting any kind of medical exam at this point. This was generally the part of the appointment where I simply talk to the doctor. In the past, when my doctor was familiar with my case and myself they would ask about my progress or success with a different medication we were trying, or an update. As this was a new doctor, I was expecting to have to rehash my medical (and more bladder) history with them. I had brought notes as I tend to forget the names of the different medications I’ve tried and significant dates and the like, and I had also brought my voiding diary (printed off from the helpful App.). I won’t recount the 20 minute consultation I had with the urologist, as I’ve actually rehashed most of my relevant medical history above, but I’ll add that the nurse and doctor did have a muted conversation just outside of earshot down the hallway before the doctor came in, and this made me blush a little. I was a little flustered all the same and the 10 minutes wait for the urologist to come to see me only permitted me to regain my composure to an extent. I was glad that I had brought my notes. Apart from a surprise question about UTIs which got me a little flustered for reasons I won’t go into, the conversation was pretty typical. I’m please to say that the urologist did give me a referral for another round of Botox treatment, and I am just waiting for this appointment, it should be in early March. I’ll report back on how this goes for those who are interested. After I got my referral, as well as a repeat of some advice about lifestyle changes I could make to reduce my symptoms, and a prescription for the medication I will occasionally take to reduce my symptoms further, the doctor walked me out into the reception area. I thanked them and smiled awkwardly at the receptionist whose expression I could not read, and I headed towards the door. Just as I was about to leave the receptionist called my name. “Ms. Kirwan?” She called after me. I froze, one hand on the door, not sure what would happen next. “Is that your coat?” She asked. I turned around and did an awkward arm gesture, in which I suppose I was feeling for the coat I was not wearing, realized I did not have it, walked back to the waiting room, and found my coast still on the back of my chair where I had left it hours(?) ago. I retrieved it, not really paying any attention to the three people in the waiting too, except to notice that the man and the woman and her child were no longer there. I thanked the receptionist, slipped into my jacket, and beat a retreat back to the SkyTrain. Outside the office I texted my husband to let him know that everything had gone ok, neglecting to tell him about some, or rather most, of the actual things that transpired at the urologists office. I think sending him this much writing in a single text might challenge his appreciation for smart phone technology, and well while I’m open about my medical issues and kinks with him, this isn’t exactly something I think either of us are comfortable discussing. I decided to treat myself to some food, as I’d not had much before the appointment. I found a nice place nearby, and as I worked my way through some sushi, my heart rate reached a normal rate. The complicated maelstrom of emotions associated with these kinds of embarrassing incidents began to roil inside of me. It would take a while for me to process all the emotions from today’s misadventure, to isolate the exciting ones from the terrifying ones. But what was clear was that I had some writing to do when I got home. Thanks for sticking out to the end of this, I realize that 17 pages is actually quite a lot of writing to tell a story that could have been told in a couple of paragraphs, but I suppose that it is cathartic to write this stuff down. I’ve got a whole folder of experiences I’ve had, with half-completed one dominating at this point, and it’s interesting to go through them and re-read some of the strange, embarrassing, funny, and exciting things I’ve got up to. Stay tuned for another update. Hugs, Rach
  19. Hello everyone! I just recently joined the site, and I'm stunned by the amount of specific personal stories studded all over the place. I like to write desperation stories and accounts, but I've admittedly never finished one... until now. This is my first story, something which I had created a long while ago on another site that has since cracked down on this topic of writing; the material is partially real and partially fiction. It's also a lengthy one, so I don't really know how long this will be when posted. The beginning's a lot of buildup of the plot; if you want to skip to "the good stuff," scroll down to the second asterisk line. It builds slowly to the climax, but I think it came out pretty well. Enjoy! ***************************************************** The sweat dripped down my forehead as I penciled in the answer bubble on my exam sheet. I took a moment to wipe my face and glance up toward the front of the room at the thermometer attached to the board. The mercury said ninety, but I knew it was wrong; it had to be much hotter than that. I groaned on the inside, wishing for even a faint breath of wind to find its way from the open window to my seat. The only thing coming through that window was the incessant twitter of songbirds and a low buzzing of a lawnmower several blocks away. Accepting my circumstances, I refocused on the exam before me. The test was a standardized, statewide assessment given to every highschooler, even to the seniors like me who, with only a few weeks of school left, had nearly quit trying completely. While the grade didn't count to our overall GPA, it did affect whether we graduated or not; that was the only reason we studied for this thing in the first place. The procedures were very strict; nothing was allowed in the testing rooms at all, no getting up from our seats with tests out, and a teacher had to be in the room at all times. The testing block was supposed to be three hours long, but the test guidelines assured us we had as much time as we needed to finish. There was no way in Hell I was going to fail this test and repeat senior year, so took my sweet time in doing it right the first time. A faint noise caught my ear, a rustling or rubbing sound I couldn't identify. I performed a quick scan around me to find out where it was coming from, and eventually pinpointed it to the exam proctor, who I'll call Ms. L. She was a beautiful woman in her late 20's I'd say, with whom I had the pleasure of spending the last semester in Economics. She was slim, sexy, and smart, and that day she was wearing a blouse, skirt, and pantyhose; the rustling was due to her rubbing her legs together producing the noise. She was sitting at the teacher's desk, a location of which I had a clear view from my own desk. She seemed to be restless, fidgeting slightly every once in a while and continuing to methodically rub her thighs together up and down, each of her high heels clicking as they touched the floor. Now by this point I had already connected the idea of female desperation to my fetish and special interest; I'd already seen several instances of genuine desperation in public and private, even one incident in particular which was - ahem - "dripping" with excitement (that's a different story). But perhaps due to the stressful nature of the exam before me, I simply didn't put two and two together, instead concluding that Ms. L was most likely anxious to escape the blistering heat of the classroom as much as we were. Still, the movements she was making were noticeably sexy, as her tan pantyhose and black skirt along with her white blouse resembled the business attire of a secretary more than a teacher's. I returned to my work before I let the mood overcome and distract me. A little while passed and the announcement from Ms. L told us we had half an hour left of official allotted time. At that point I started to worry, seeing as I was only three-quarters of the way through and still had a sizable amount questions left. Ms. L stood up from her desk, smoothing out her skirt as she observed the room. From my seat she appeared to be stepping from one foot to another in a way that hinted she was trying to suppress her movement. I was trying to concentrate on the test, I really was, but the situation was starting to perk my interest extensively. She paced around the room, observing our work it seemed to gauge how far along we were. One student a few rows away raised his hand with a question, and Ms. L walked over to him. She bent lower to hear the whispered question, but it was the way in which she performed this simple maneuver which finally alerted me to the predicament she was facing; instead of bending over at the waist as most teachers usually do, she bent almost entirely at the knees, signaling she was dealing with a filling bladder region. For a brief moment I blanked, not believing the woman who was the eye-candy of our economics class and state exam was trying her hardest not to reveal how badly she needed to pee in front of 20 or so Seniors. I had teachers in the past who would call in an aide or substitute if they really needed to go during a slow class period, but apparently this kind of test demanded all the staff they could get, so no one was available to take over for poor Ms. L. All of her motions were now crystal-clear to me: the way she wiggled her legs when standing still, followed by rubbing the front of her skirt and discreetly placing her hands over her noticeably rounder bladder region. At one point while helping another student, she bounced her bum a few times before quickly sitting down with her legs crossed in the desk behind the girl. I was hoping to see a wet desk when she stood up, but it was clean. I heard a rumble in the hallway as a teacher wheeled in a cart with Dixie cups of water to keep us hydrated during the testing block; we'd already received this opportunity about three time in the last hour, and not wanting to become dehydrated in the heat I took up the offer each time. I wasn't affected in terms of my own bladder, but Ms. L certainly didn't seem thrilled about pouring water into twenty little cups and passing them out in her state. With all these distractions, I was only able to finish about 15 questions before the time ended. Ms. L seemed to quietly breathe a sigh of relief as she announced "Pencils down please." I knew I needed quite a bit more time, as did about five other students. My anxious teacher walked around to collect the completed tests, shuffling in such a way as not to disturb her bladder. At first, I feverishly continued my work as not to prolong this test any longer than it needed to be. I assumed Ms. L would be replaced with a sub or someone else so she can relieve herself, thus making the exam uneventful once more. However, our principal was walking through the rooms where students were still taking the tests, and Ms. L somehow curtailed her holding techniques long enough to talk with him. I couldn't hear what they said, but at one point she seemed to whisper something even quieter than the rest of their conversation, to which our principal responded with a seemingly sympathetic head shake indicating "no." After announcing to us we had all the time we needed, he proceeded to leave; immediately Ms. L softly moaned and placed one hand on her bladder, the other on her skirt over her thighs. For a brief moment her eyes met mine; she blushed and returned to her desk quietly. ***************************************************** About half an hour passed by. By then I was almost finished with my last essay, and the only other student still taking the test in my room looked as if she was checking over her answers. Ms. L was continuing her feverish pee-dance seated in her desk chair, hands on her bladder and frequently wandering downward to her crotch; rocking back and forth, her face looked flushed and tired from her efforts. The other student got up to hand in her exam just as I finished my writing. She placed the papers on the pile at the front of the room and left, giving me a look as she left hinting that she knew Ms. L's situation too. The room was now dead silent apart from the constant birds chirping outside and the rhythmic squeaking of my teacher's chair as she squirmed around on it. Ms. L glanced over at me in a longing, hopeful sort of way, then realized I wasn't finished and went back to her desperation. I knew I had checked over my answers as I went through the test, so that I was completely sure of each answer I wrote down in the assessment. I could have handed in the test right then and there and still have full confidence I had the right answers. That would have been the gentlemanly thing to do. But I couldn't shake the consistent urgings of my mind telling me to delay my desperate teacher. I knew damn well this might be the last time I time I took a test like that; it might be the last time I could see any teacher, nevermind a hot one like Ms. L, who was genuinely about to burst. My devilish side one out, and as if on cue, she hesitatingly asked me whether I was done yet. I told her I was going to just check over my test until the end of the day (at this point there was only half an hour left of the school day anyway). Her eyes widened in shock, but her voice replied with a strained acceptance. I returned my eyes to my paper to "review my answers" while at the same time using my peripheral vision to witness the hot desperation show across the room. I decided to get a better vantage point, asking her if I could sit closer to the window (and consequently her desk) in order to catch some of the breeze. She consented, and I brought my materials over to the desk closest to her's to resume my review. From there I could note every movement of her legs and hands as she moved about while still appearing to be engrossed in my test. After a few more minutes she stood up and started to prance around next to her desk while cupping her bladder and twisting her legs around each other. The clicking of her high heels on the tile flooring was only adding to the intensity of the situation. Moving from her desk to the board and back, her path seemed to be dictated by her bladder; indeed, every move she made seemed to be devoted entirely to staying dry. I looked up at her as she glanced over at me, our eyes meeting once again. Only this time, I didn't break the gaze; she blushed a deep pink, but seemed to be beyond caring at that point. She moaned aloud and said, "I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing. It's just been such a long testing period, and I had quite a lot of water today since I last had a break. I could really use a relief but all the staff's booked." My response should have been sympathy and end there. Instead, under the unbelievably sexy circumstances I was in, I blurted out, "I know, I can tell." I waited for the reprimand, but surprisingly she smiled a sweet smile and whispered in mock surprise, "Oh wow, how could you tell?", then laughed. I joined in before she gripped her bladder and groaned, "Oh dear, I can't laugh, I can't, or I'll have an acci-..." Her eyes widened; I could tell she had her own slip of the tongue. I decided not to push it any further and went back to my test. ***************************************************** With five minutes left before the final bell, the situation had reached its crescendo. I pretended to feverishly correct an "error" in my essay as Ms. L performed the Broadway production of "Gotta Pee" right in front of my desk. Her pantyhose-clad legs, which appeared silky that close up, were entwined in ways I couldn't fathom; her hands were pressed into her skirt between her legs, and when she turned into a profile position her bulging bladder appeared squashed by her skirt. She was frantic, but I wanted to see this through. As she paced, her moaning was like musical symphonies, coordinated with each time she would lean on the desk and bend one foot into the air at the knee and do the same with the other foot a few seconds later. She would then tap her heels in that beautiful clicking movement before finally resuming her pretzel-leg actions. With about 2 minutes to go, she walked (more like waddled) over to me and asked for my paper. I feigned stress as I handed it over, and she slammed them down on her desk while simultaneously motioning with her hand for me to leave. When I didn't move, she asked me in a strained voice why I was still there. I explained that students weren't allowed to leave the room without a pass (which was true), and that if she wanted to write me one I could leave. With both her hands wedged between her legs, it took her a few seconds to actually decide whether it was worth it. Eventually she agreed, and grabbed the sticky-note pad from her desk and fumbled around for a pen. When she couldn't find one, she gave me a pleading look which compelled me to offer her mine. She scrawled a hasty pass and an even sloppier signature which was nothing more than a squiggle. In my last act of torture, I explained that teachers wouldn't admit students through the hall unless the signature of the teacher was legible (also true). Almost shaking in desperation, she corrected it and handed the note to me. In one swift motion, she collapsed into her chair and crossed her legs so tightly I could see through her pantyhose, and hands pressed into the crotch of her skirt, gripping for dear life. "Thanks Ms. L, have a good one," I managed to blurt out as I headed for the door, defeated in seeing an accident. She managed a half-hearted "you too" with her head down, then suddenly looked back at me and whispered quietly, "Before you go, could you please bring me over that trashcan by the door? I have some...um, uh... garbage I want to throw out." I swallowed hard, knowing the true reason why she wanted it. I slowly grabbed the bin as she frantically rubbed her crotch, bringing it over to her desk. She quickly placed it under her desk, offering a meek smile showing thanks as she grabbed the sides of her skirt. I turned toward the door as I saw her carefully begin to inch her skirt up her thighs. I left the room and was about to close the door behind me (the doors at our school automatically lock shut from the inside), when I instinctively went back in for one last glimpse. Even today I am so glad for that decision; I reentered to see Ms. L with her jet-black skirt hiked up around her waist, exposing her panties and pantyhose which were still on completely. Her legs were spread; with one hand she was holding the bucket underneath her crotch, the other holding the desk for support. She looked up in surprise just as a stream of golden pee poured through her panties and pantyhose into the bucket with a hiss and splash. Both of us shouted at each other at the same time; "I just needed to grab my pen!" I cried as she yelled "Look away!" I looked away of course, and the rest of it is just noise in my memories. The splatter went on and on and coincided with breathy moans and gasps from my teacher as her monstrous bladder emptied itself behind me. I offered a hasty apology as I left the room; as I pulled the door shut with a click, I heard the last few drops of pee hitting the golden lake at the bottom of the trash bin. I walked back to my locker in a dreamy state. I don't know what Ms. L did with her bucket of pee after that. I don't know what she did with her soaked panties either. But as I remember that day ever since, I always like to believe that my teacher enjoyed her desperation as much as her student enjoyed watching it. ***************************************************** Again, this is my first ever desperation story. I'm therefore extremely new to all this in terms of writing, so let me know how I can improve upon this little experiment in fiction -- or even suggest some topics you would like me to dream up next... thanks!
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