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  1. This is my first fic attemps, the first chapter is an introduction to the lore, I expect this to be a sizeable story, however, note I work a lot and study so I might not be a regular poster. Also note english is not my primary language. It is now well known that women have, more often than not, suffered from the rule of men and fiction tend to return to that old comfortable trope of men enslaving women for their pleasure and for the sake of power, but what if, in an alternate universe, men were those who had to suffer from social norms made by women? Social norms do not always have to make sense, they are often rooted in traditions and emotional if not instinctual reactions. Why do we have to apologize when we suffer from the hiccup? Why do we say “Bless you” when someone sneezes? Because we were told to, because our parents did it, and their parents too. Knowing that, it is easy to imagine socials norms that would be imposed on men and women that would be greatly sexist (cough cough real world), but this time turning the table around with more emphasis on men rather than women. For our own pleasure, let us imagine a world where those social norms make men rather uncomfortable in a way we like, let us imagine a world where a man peeing in a public toilet, or showing the need to relieve itself in a public setting is seen as a grave impoliteness, a sign of weakness and in some countries, a regulated affair. As for public urination, the consequences of such indecency would be dire: heavy fines, public announcement of your crime resulting in shame and often the imposition of a chaperon who would ensure the convicted man would be unable to repeat such offense. This chaperon would control with a keyless locked belt the moments of relief of the convict who would have to adhere to the schedule imposed by the chaperon. This system was also imposed on sexual criminals to avoid further aggressions, but also seen as a punitive system, as the chaperons, all women, would tend to not be kind to sexual predators, aggressors, and perverts. From a very young age, boys would be taught that peeing is a sign of weakness, a lack of control and dignity for a man. Especially in a public setting such as school, work or even with guests at home, the norm would be that men simply had to hold and wait. They had to control themselves and use their strength to good use. In fact, due to these norms, it was not uncommon for men to brag about their holding abilities and for girls to actively seek men able to control themselves for extended periods of time. It was seen as an act of strength and a proof that they would also be polite and in control of their sexual impulses. A security, in some ways for these girls. Obviously, those norms would gradually be enforced the older the boys would get. Slowly, but surely, it would become harder for the male student to receive the “holy grail” namely: the bathroom key. For you see, the bathrooms would be locked in permanence to avoid any unwarranted relieving. While girls always had their personal key on them, boys would need to ask for the key, often being rejected of shunned for asking. Often being teased in front of the class to further dissuade any kid from asking permission unless an emergency. Kids being kids, it was not rare for girls to bully their male counterpart and tease them about their situation. By the time, the kids would arrive to college, the bathroom pass would have been near impossible to obtain and asking for it would result in mockery, bullying, teasing and if too frequent, disciplinary actions and training. Once on the job market, more often than not, toilets would be only accessible to women in the most conservative countries while they would be extremely rare in more liberal countries has previous building codes would not have included them. The peer pressure to avoid using them was so strong by this point, they were more often than not plain decoration and there to follow regulations. Obviously, these norms meant that most men were most of the time in dire need of relief, worst of all for them, they could see their female friend, coworkers, boss, and wife relieve themselves. They could not show any part of their condition, especially not in the workplace. Showing a lack of self control in the workplace was a sure way to stay at the bottom of the chain and never receive a promotion. Even worse, a group of women around the world, named the sisterhood was always on the hunt to regulate, enforce and strengthen these norms into laws. Some extremists of this group would make it their mission to make the men around them as desperate as possible and to humiliate them further. It was a revenge for all the violence and sexual violence perpetrated by men. Or so they said. Some poor soul would end up tortured, forced to drink liters and liters of fluid only to be dumped in the middle of a passing street without options to relieves themselves. Other would simply be stuck with a boss in the sisterhood denying them bathroom keys, forcing them to drink and torturing them with overtime and denouncing any “signs” of desperation. In some of the most conservative countries, they would manage to pass law reducing even more the rights of men to relieve themselves. The most extreme case being in a very macho country of south America where male public bathroom simply did not exist and men being found to use female public bathroom were forced to wear remote belt for up to 5 years for a first offense and be supervised by a female chaperon for 10 years. Showing signs of desperation could even get you accusations of public indecency. It is not like men could do anything about it, they did not have the right to vote or to protest in these places, politic was seen as a waste of time for men in many countries. They had work to do, money to earn, politics was a women thing. To be continued
  2. Lyle’s college campus, including his first-year residence, did not appear to have much space for parties. The bedrooms were small, the hallways had no furniture, and the cafeteria closed at 9 PM. During relatively brief chats with the other students in the hallways and cafeteria, Lyle heard a few rumours of party-focused fraternities and sororities in the area, but he couldn’t find any way to locate or contact such places. The only remotely promising local venue he could actually find on a map was the campus bar. He couldn’t imagine much of a party happening at a bar, but after a week with no other leads, he decided he might as well check it out. Lyle wasn’t sure if the bar would serve meals, so he had dinner at the cafeteria before heading over. He didn’t bother dressing up for the evening; he wore the same t-shirt, khakis, and sandals that he had been wearing all day. When he arrived at the bar, he took a minute to walk around the tables to see if he could click with any of the groups there. None of them seemed particularly welcoming, though, so he sat down at the bar and ordered a soda. As he drank it, he tried to think of ways to approach some of the other students, and he also listened for conversations that he might be able to contribute to. He didn’t have any breakthroughs by the time he finished his soda, so he ordered another. Nothing changed as he drank that either. For his third drink, he decided to try something alcoholic; the daily special posted on the wall would do. When he tasted it, he found it to be sweet, with the alcohol barely noticeable, which was pretty well what he was going for; his interest in alcohol was minimal. But even this new drink didn’t change the fact that no one was talking to him. After sitting there for an hour and a half sipping on several more sodas and a few more alcoholic beverages, Lyle decided that this was a failed experiment. He had to pee from all the drinking so he figured he’d use the bathroom there (they had to have one, right?) and then head back to his room and maybe play some computer games. He stood up, but as he turned around to start looking for a bathroom, a female student suddenly came up to him and said, “Hi! I’m Cynthia.” “Hi,” Lyle responded uncertainly, “I’m Lyle.” “Hi Lyle!” Cynthia said, smiling brightly. “Can I buy you a drink?” Perhaps this wasn’t a failed experiment after all. It was a bit ironic to be offered a drink after having nothing but them for the past hour and a half, but this time Lyle would have someone to talk to, so he cheerfully accepted and they started chatting. There was no need for computer games now, and he wasn’t going to go hunting for a bathroom right after meeting someone who wanted to spend time with him. And they did spend quite some time chatting. Cynthia seemed very friendly and outgoing. When the drink she had bought Lyle was finished, she eagerly bought him another, and when that one was finished, she just as eagerly bought him a third. She said this was her third year of college, so perhaps that had given her a chance to get used to bar etiquette; Lyle himself had never been to a bar before and couldn’t even imagine having the nerve to offer a drink to someone he had just met. Unfortunately, all these drinks, coupled with the duration of their conversation, were making Lyle’s need to pee more persistent. He worried that Cynthia might leave if he stepped away to find a bathroom, but eventually he decided he would have to take that risk. He finished the drink he was working on and was just about to excuse himself when Cynthia said, “This place is pretty slow. Let’s go somewhere better.” “Sure,” Lyle said. “Just let me use the bathroom first.” “You can do that when we get there,” Cynthia said. “I can’t stand this place any longer. Come on, let’s go.” She turned and started walking toward the exit. Lyle would have preferred to use the bathroom before leaving, but since Cynthia wouldn’t wait for him, and was inviting him somewhere with a bathroom and a party, he decided to follow her. The trip would be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t last too long. Cynthia continued to tell stories as they left the bar and walked down the road. Lyle didn’t feel that he could contribute much to the conversation given how badly he needed to pee now, but Cynthia didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed even warmer than she had been earlier. “I’m so glad to have met you!” she would often say, smiling broadly, and Lyle felt the same way about her. None of the hundred other students Lyle had met in the hallways and cafeteria over the past week had shown anything close to Cynthia’s vitality. He just wished Cynthia had been willing to wait the two minutes for him to find and use the bathroom at the bar; his need to pee was getting progressively worse as they walked, and the walk seemed like it was taking a long time. After making several more turns, Lyle asked Cynthia, as gently as he could, “How much farther are we going?” They were walking away from his room, so if it was much farther, he might have to forget about the party and head back to his residence to use the bathroom there. Maybe he could get Cynthia’s contact information and see if they could meet up some other time. “We’re about halfway there,” Cynthia responded. Halfway there. This evening was starting to feel like more than Lyle had signed up for, but after a quick assessment he decided that it was still worth staying the course. He would definitely need to use the bathroom as soon as they arrived, though. Cynthia became quieter, which was just as well because Lyle no longer felt able to absorb her stories. Lyle was breathing heavily now, frequently tensing and occasionally bobbing up and down. He worried that Cynthia might find his behaviour off-putting, but each time he looked at Cynthia she seemed to somehow be getting even more excited. This confused Lyle, since they were no longer socializing, but maybe Cynthia was looking forward to what awaited them at the end of this interminably long walk. Did one really have to go this far to get to a decent social venue? How difficult would it be to build a party house just across the parking lot from the academic buildings? Looking at how widely Cynthia was smiling by now, though, it occurred to Lyle that maybe there was a more central option, but the place they were going was better. That thought kept Lyle moving forward each time he considered giving up and heading back to his room. If he could even find it again after all the turns they had made. It was getting pretty bad, though. Lyle was starting to instinctively grab his penis to try to keep from peeing. Given how far Cynthia was taking them, why couldn’t she have waited for Lyle to use the bathroom before they left? She was still too enchanting for Lyle to ask that question out loud, but he didn’t think he could cope much longer, no matter how fantastic this place was. This wasn’t going to work. Lyle was going to have to pee behind one of the trees lining the road. Just as he was about to ask Cynthia to wait a moment for him to do so, though, they rounded a corner and a lit-up mansion came into view. A number of students were drinking and chatting in front of it, but as Lyle got closer, he could tell that most of the noise was coming from inside. Cynthia was walking directly toward the building, so clearly this was their destination. Finally, Lyle would be able to use the bathroom he’d been craving for what felt like an hour! The fact that he had also located the party he’d been seeking for the past week felt secondary at this point. He gave his penis a tight squeeze and then let go in order to appear presentable to the other guests. Cynthia walked up to the front door, opened it, and then invited Lyle to go in ahead of her. Lyle gratefully did so, but a few steps in, a female student blocking his path looked at him and said, “Who are you?” Unsure how to respond, Lyle turned back toward Cynthia as she came in behind him. “That’s Esther,” Cynthia told Lyle. “She’s working the door tonight.” Coming up beside Lyle and turning to face Esther, she said, “This is Lyle. We’re in a bit of a hurry.” She winked at Esther. Lyle didn’t understand the wink, but he was glad that Cynthia finally seemed to be showing a sense of urgency. He turned to face Esther once more. She now seemed to be examining Lyle more closely. Lyle tried to appear dignified in order to make a good first impression, but he really needed to pee now and wasn’t able to stand still. Had he blown his chance? Was he going to get kicked out? Or, worse, was Esther going to insist on thoroughly questioning him before even letting him use the bathroom? Esther smiled. Somehow, she seemed not merely satisfied but actually impressed. She turned to Cynthia and said, “Nicely done! Don’t let me slow you down any further.” She stepped aside and Cynthia walked past her. As Lyle started to follow, he saw Esther press a button on the wall. He realized it activated an audio panel when he heard Esther’s voice from speakers throughout the building saying, “We have a guest!” Lyle didn’t know what could possibly have impressed Esther enough about him to want to brag to the whole building, but this was not the time to try to figure that out. Cynthia had paused in the entrance hallway, and now that they seemed to have the run of the place, Lyle caught up with her and quietly asked, “Do you know where the bathroom is?” “I’ll take you there,” Cynthia answered. “This place is a bit of a maze.” She started walking again. As if the walk to the place hadn’t been long enough, Lyle now found himself following Cynthia through quite a number of intersecting hallways. Would this exercise never end? Was the bathroom he had waited so long for still not close at hand? He got excited when they approached a door, but when Cynthia opened it, Lyle saw that it led to yet another hallway. At the end of this hallway, they went up a short flight of steps, through another door, and then instead of walls on either side of them there were thick black curtains. A few steps later these curtains ended and the space opened up a bit, although there were other curtains farther away, and then finally Lyle saw a door with the symbol on it for the men’s bathroom. Now that Lyle could actually see the bathroom, he started running toward it, grabbing his penis again to try to hold on for just a few more seconds. As he ran, though, he could see people in his peripheral vision from other parts of this more open space running toward him. At the same time, a curtain that formed one edge of the space appeared to be opening. Well before Lyle reached the bathroom, he found himself surrounded by about five female students, on a stage, in front of a seated audience of about thirty people, who at a glance also appeared to all be female students. “Surprise!” the girls surrounding Lyle shouted gleefully. This unexpected delay, on top of all the waiting Lyle had already done, made his need feel even worse, and he tightened his grip on his penis and lifted a knee to squeeze his thighs together. Speaking quickly, he said, “Hi, I was just on my way to the bathroom. I’ll be out in a minute.” The girls maintained their blockade and seemed to be holding back laughter. Lyle turned to look for Cynthia and was surprised to see that she had actually kept up with him and was now part of the group surrounding him. Addressing the other girls, Cynthia said, “I’d like you all to meet Lyle.” “Great job!” one of the other girls said to Cynthia, seeming just as impressed as Esther had been. “I think this is our best one yet!” But the girls all continued to keep their positions, and Cynthia did not appear to be making any further effort to convince them to move. Lyle’s exasperation now outweighed his affection, and he said, “Cynthia, I wanted to use the bathroom at the bar. But you insisted on coming here first. The walk was a lot longer than I was expecting, and now I have to pee really badly. Could you please tell these people to let me past? We can do this live theatre thing when I get out.” “It’s true,” Cynthia told the other girls. “He’s been wanting to pee for a long time. He had a lot of drinks sitting by himself at the campus bar before I joined him and bought him several more.” Lyle didn’t remember telling Cynthia his drink count at any point, but that didn’t matter right now. Cynthia continued, “I didn’t give him a chance to use the bathroom before we left the bar. Instead, I told him he could use the one here. I guess I didn’t think about how long the walk would be, or the fact that you would set this ambush. How could I have been so thoughtless?” An excellent explanation, Lyle thought, relieved. He started to turn back around to see if they would clear a path for him. Before Cynthia was out of his field of vision, though, he saw her grin. Lyle froze. How had Cynthia known his approximate drink count? Had she been watching him since he arrived at the bar? As Lyle was wondering about this, one of the other girls said, “Wow, you’re good!” With horror, Lyle realized that Cynthia had not been defending him or apologizing. She had been bragging. This entire evening had been a setup. Lyle finished turning to face the bathroom and was no longer surprised to see that the others clearly had no intention of stepping aside. He tried to force his way past them, but he wasn’t able to overpower multiple people at once, and since they were surrounding him, he couldn’t dodge them either. Desperately trying not to wet his pants, Lyle started rhythmically squeezing and releasing his penis, alternating lifting each leg to squeeze his thighs together, and also alternately bending down at the waist and bobbing up and down at the knees. He wasn’t quite at the point of losing control, but he had no idea how long they would keep him trapped on this stage, and he had already waited far longer to use the bathroom than he ever would have chosen to. “Aww, look at his cute little pee dance,” one of the girls said. “He really is desperate! Cynthia brought us a real treat tonight!” A real treat? Lyle took a longer look at the seated audience and saw that many of them appeared to be masturbating. As predatory as the girls were being, a part of Lyle felt warm and fuzzy knowing that he was bringing them a rare level of enjoyment. He may have been meat, but at least he was tasty meat. He would not hold a grudge or seek disciplinary action when this was over. At the moment, though, he still hoped the girls would let him use the bathroom soon. For all of his emotional warmth, his condition was neither physically pleasant nor sustainable. “Come on, let me through!” he begged. “I can’t hold it much longer!” “Aww, are you going to wet your pants for us?” one of the girls teased. “Are you going to lose control and start peeing helplessly down your leg in front of everyone here?” “Let’s get his sandals off,” another girl suggested. “Keep them safe, at least.” She bent down slightly and unstrapped the sandal from the foot Lyle currently had lifted in his effort to hold his pee. Lyle didn’t bother trying to stop her as she removed the sandal and placed it on the floor behind her. He didn’t need sandals either to get to the bathroom or to enjoy the rest of the party. He would need them in order to get back to his residence, but he would also need a guide or a map, so if the girls were trying to kidnap him then he wouldn’t stop them by keeping his sandals. When Lyle instinctively switched legs in his pee dance, the girl closest to his other foot unstrapped and removed his remaining sandal and placed that one out of the way as well. One of the girls untucked Lyle’s shirt and slid her hand under it to caress his bare abdomen. “Mmm, such a full bladder,” she purred. “Maybe he really can’t wait much longer.” Smiling mischievously, she gave said bladder a squeeze, making Lyle jerk away. The girl laughed, as did at least some of the others, but their demeanor remained playful rather than cruel. When they were done laughing, Lyle felt another hand land on the front of his pants to find a part of his penis that his own clenched hand wasn’t already covering. The new hand originated behind Lyle; he turned his head to see that it belonged to Cynthia. Making eye contact with Lyle as she gently rubbed his penis through his pants, Cynthia said, “Is this poor penis anxious to release all those drinks you had at the bar? Does it desperately want to feel all of that liquid flowing out of your body? Is your frantic dancing and squeezing going to be enough to keep all of that pee from flowing out through this desperate penis and into your pants?” She removed her hand. Panting, Lyle turned his head away from her and made another unsuccessful attempt to escape in the direction of the bathroom. More girls slid their hands under the bottom of Lyle’s shirt, and this time they started tickling Lyle’s bare waist. While doing this, they also leaned in and started licking his neck. This was not what Lyle needed right now. He had to pee so badly and the tickling and licking felt like it was taking him right to the edge. He clenched his muscles as hard as he could. His penis was trembling. He knew that pretty soon his body would take over and he would start peeing right there into his pants no matter what he did to try to stop it. The girls kept up the tickling, but the licking didn’t last too long before they moved their heads back away from Lyle’s neck and started saying, “Psssss…” with smiles on their faces. Lyle stared at them with dread. This seemed to excite them; they started laughing again, all the while continuing their tickling as Lyle continued his frantic pee dance. Lyle made yet another attempt to push past them but was again pushed back. Was there anything special he had to say or do for them to let him use the bathroom? Or did he just have to wait for them to decide on their own that the time was right? His time was quickly running out, but he couldn’t think of anything to add to what he had already said. The girls already knew how badly Lyle needed to pee. That appeared to be the whole point of the exercise. Lyle could feel his control slipping away. This could not be happening. He was about to wet his pants at the first college party he had been able to find. He made one last vain attempt to elbow through, and then, in a panic, he turned to face Cynthia, who was laughing and tickling along with the others. “Cynthia,” he said breathlessly, “I’m about to start peeing, please tell these people to let me through now!” Cynthia’s laughter turned into a huge open-mouthed smile. She stopped tickling Lyle and gently cupped her hands around the back of Lyle’s head. Then she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Her tongue slid between his lips, then between his teeth and against Lyle’s own tongue. Cynthia slowly caressed all sides of Lyle’s tongue with hers while also caressing the back of his head with her hands. It felt amazing, but the warm moisture and gentle motion of Cynthia’s tongue and lips, along with the other girls’ continued tickling, made it impossible for Lyle to hold his bladder any longer and he felt himself starting to pee in his pants. There was no longer anything he could do to stop it, and as the bathroom was still half a stage away and he had made zero progress trying to get free of the ambush, it was clear that the struggle was over. Deciding that he might as well enjoy the kiss, he released his grip on his penis and embraced the back of Cynthia’s head with both hands. “Ooh, look, he’s peeing!” one of the girls said excitedly. “You really can’t hold it, can you?” another girl said. “You just have to pee so bad that there’s nothing left you can do to keep from peeing in your pants.” Cynthia continued to swirl her tongue around Lyle’s as Lyle continued to helplessly wet himself. The other girls eventually stopped their tickling, but that no longer made a difference; any control that Lyle might have had left was being taken away by Cynthia’s gentle tongue. Lyle could tell from Cynthia’s enthusiasm, though, that that was not the sole purpose of the kiss. Cynthia was hungry for Lyle, as one might be for an ice cream sundae. And she didn’t stop when Lyle finished peeing, nor did she cut the kiss any shorter than Lyle would have liked. In fact, in the end it was Lyle who first removed his hands and started to pull away. Cynthia actually pulled him back to continue the kiss a little bit longer, but when Lyle pulled away a second time, she let him go. While they had been kissing, the other girls onstage had all moved off to one side. Cynthia glanced at them, then looked back at Lyle and said, “This is my sorority. My sisters and I love college boys who desperately need to pee, and I have to say, you did not disappoint.” Addressing the audience in the seats, she said, “Let’s hear it for Lyle!” The audience gave a standing ovation. Looking at them, Lyle saw that they were all smiling, and some of them were licking their lips. Lyle was embarrassed to have wet his pants in front of so many other people, but they seemed to really appreciate it, so he managed to give them a bow – not a deep bow, but he hoped enough to be polite. After straightening back up, he took a moment to enjoy their excited expressions, then turned back to Cynthia for further guidance. Cynthia waited for the applause to die down, then gestured toward the bathroom and said to Lyle, “The bathroom over there has a shower, laundry machines, and clean towels and robes. You can throw your clothes in the washing machine, get cleaned up, and then put on a robe. Don’t start the washing machine yet; we want to wait until we have a full load. If you’re anxious to leave, you can wear the robe you pick back to your room and we’ll get your clean clothes back to you tomorrow; if you stay, we can get them back to you at the end of the night. It looks like someone’s left your sandals just outside the bathroom door; you can put them back on once you’re done cleaning up.” So they had a detailed and efficient clean-up plan. Lyle’s night wasn’t ruined by his wet pants. He was glad now that the girls had taken the trouble to save his sandals, since he imagined sandals would be more difficult to clean than clothes, and the pee had indeed reached his feet. Lyle took another look at the audience; they had sat back down but were still smiling and some appeared to have resumed masturbating. Then he turned toward the bathroom; the path was now clear, the girls who had been surrounding him still casually standing off to the side. “Go ahead,” Cynthia said encouragingly from behind Lyle. “We’ll mop the stage while you’re in there.” Cautiously, wary of more traps, Lyle started walking toward the bathroom. None of the girls moved to block him this time. Lyle gradually started to feel more at ease as he approached, then reached, the bathroom. He opened the door, entered, and then closed and locked the door behind him, all without any issues. Everything Cynthia had listed was laid out before him. The room was deeper than it was wide; two parallel walls extended away from the stage on either side of Lyle. Against the wall on Lyle’s left were first the laundry machines, then a transparent shower stall, then beyond that a toilet, a sink, and a mirror. The wall on Lyle’s right was covered with shelves holding various folded fabrics, which fit in with Cynthia’s mention of towels and robes. Since they were folded, it might have been another trick, but Lyle didn’t really care if he had to spend the rest of the party naked and wet. He found an empty spot on a nearby shelf, emptied his pockets onto it, then took off his clothes, put them in the washing machine, and entered the shower stall. He didn’t bother looking for a washcloth among the folded fabrics against the far wall; he found washcloths awkward to use and rarely bothered with them. There were a number of squeeze bottles on a shelf inside the stall, and at least one appeared to be the body wash Lyle would need to clean himself properly. He had his shower, then turned off the water and looked through the clear door of the stall at the shelves on the far wall. There were folded towels immediately across from the stall, and the room was narrow enough that Lyle could probably reach one without stepping out. The towels were all different colours; Lyle looked at them for a few seconds before settling on a beige one. He opened the stall door, grabbed his chosen towel, dried off, and then stepped out of the stall. He then wrapped the towel around himself and started to investigate the wall shelves more thoroughly. The section closest to the shower was filled with folded towels and washcloths; nothing in this section resembled a garment. Walking deeper into the bathroom, away from the door, however, Lyle found a section of thinner folded fabrics, also in a variety of colours and several with patterns on them. Were these the robes? Lyle picked a fabric with a design he liked, took it off the shelf, and unfolded it. It did indeed appear to be a garment of some kind. It wasn’t fluffy like a bathrobe, and it didn’t open at the front like a kimono; it was more like a long t-shirt, although it had pockets at the sides about halfway between the neck and the hem. Lyle put his head and arms through, then removed his towel and pulled the hem of the garment down. It easily covered his knees, but did not appear to be in danger of dragging on the floor. Lyle turned around to look at himself in the mirror. He had never worn such a garment before, but it looked like a reasonable thing to wear to a party: casual, but not sleepwear. Having reached the end of the room, Lyle turned back toward the door. The toilet was no longer useful to him, and he didn’t need the sink, having just showered, so he walked back to the front of the room. He put his towel in the washing machine as he didn’t see another receptacle for it and didn’t want to be carrying it around, and he retrieved the contents of his pants pockets from the shelf where he had left them and placed them in the pockets of his new robe. Then he unlocked the door and opened it to look back at the stage. The curtain had been closed, and a “Wet Floor” sign had been placed on the stage. Lyle’s sandals were still next to the door; he put them back on now that he was clean and dry. The girls from the “performance” were still there, chatting with each other off to the side. Despite what they had done earlier, Lyle didn’t feel particularly threatened by them, and the night was still young, so he made his way toward them. Cynthia, who was in the group, noticed Lyle approaching and turned to face him. “Are you done?” she asked, smiling pleasantly. “Yeah,” Lyle said. He closed the rest of the distance between them and then Cynthia gave him a tight hug. After a few seconds, Cynthia released the hug and asked, “Want to come check out our dance floor?” “Yeah, that sounds fun,” Lyle answered. “Great, let’s go!” Cynthia said. She led Lyle off stage, and the rest of the group went with them. Lyle was really looking forward to the rest of this party.
  3. From the album: Sketches & Ideas

    I think visiting this community inspires me to art, because after reading this post I had the urge to draw what I described on my comment! *chukles* So, thanks so much to folks for the inspiration! To who started the post as well as the others who commented and liked my post, y'all are awesome! As I was saying on the post, I think it's awesome and a turn on when someone says "please" like in this context, why? Well, cos this means that they aknowledge that things are out of their control, and they think their only hope it's to call the help of an force who is way more powerful than themselves, and who watches for their well being. And that's just so adorable! And the french talking it's always the coolest and sexiest part! Also, I like it cos I can relate in a deep level to this situation. When I've been really really desperate and I feel I'm loosing the hope to find a bathroom I've done this to God. And He haven't failed me cos I haven't went in my pants on public since that accident I had when I was 7. Oh and yeah, this is the character I was talking about on that post, heheh.
  4. This is Chapter One of a larger planned series, but is a complete arc. I apologize in advance for any errors. -- On Talking to Strangers Sometimes, even the brave men and women of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police have moments of fear and apprehension. Unlike in most cases, however, one of the greatest moments of adrenaline in Mizuki Hirasawa's life came when he was off-duty. In fact, curiously, it came when he was on a week's paid vacation... -- The young, slender, and girlish German Shepherd in question was aboard his third train of the morning, having set out from home before first light. Despite rising so early, he didn't feel the least bit groggy or tired. In fact, as the sun had rose along his journey from his apartment in the Akihabara District of Tokyo and now into the foothills of Gunma, so had his anxiety. He had never done anything like this before - this spontaneous, this self-indulgent, and this... risky. But, fresh on the tail of a bad breakup and the emotional funk that followed, he had resolved himself to a change of scenery, a change of pace, and a venture outside of his comfort zone. Well out of his comfort zone. At his feet was a large canvas roller-luggage bag; he quietly unzipped the front pocket and fished inside. He unfurled the dot-matrix printout of the message he'd downloaded earlier that week. After retrieving it from inside, he read it over again, half to pass the time, and half to be sure he had the right stop. He'd been so nervous he'd almost gotten off at the wrong station twice. "Hey Mizu! Thanks again for RSVPing for our first ever BBS meetup! You were the last one to contact me, which makes us four members in total. I took the train station you gave me and a map and have given you some directions below. I hope you don't mind waking up early to make the meeting time~ Bring enough clothes to last you at least a week, toiletries, and whatever else you want. I'll be paying for food and drinks and such, so don't worry too much about cash, just make sure you have enough for train fare at least. Be ready to have some fun when you arrive! I look forward to seeing you there! DIRECTIONS: 1. From Takanadobaba Station, take the 5:54 AM Yamanote Line train to Ueno Station. 2. From Ueno Station, take the 6:34 AM Hokuriku Shinkansen to Takasaki Station. 3. From Takasaki Station, take the 7:26 AM Agatsuma Line train to Kanashima Station." Mizu folded it back up and stowed it back in the front flap of his rolling luggage, holding onto the handrail in front of his seat so tightly he swore he'd leave handpaw prints in it. He closed his eyes. It's not too late to turn back, he thought. You've never met these people before. This could turn out terribly... The Shepherd grimaced and shook his head, as if to shake the intrusive thoughts out, so vigorously two people nearby looked up to glance at him. He smiled at them sheepishly, then looked back down and willed himself to be invisible until the overhead speaker crackled to life. "Kanashima Station. Kanashima." It clicked back off with a short pop. The pup steeled himself and stood, taking inventory of his belongings and preparing for the train to stop. I'm 23! I'm in charge of my life! I need to have some fun while I'm still young! The way he visibly jumped when the train car's brakes squealed totally betrayed that his internal pep talk wasn't working. As the train glided smoothly to a stop, he forced himself to walk jiltedly to the doors, and when they hissed open, he wobbled out of the train and onto the platform. The passengers that followed him paid him no mind as they stepped around where he'd stopped on the platform, walking off towards the mostly empty parking lot and out of view. The doors rolled shut with a thunk behind the pup, and as the electric motors aboard the train droned to life, he closed his eyes again and willed the butterflies in his stomach to settle. No going back now, he thought. The next train home will be along in 15 minutes, a voice inside his head reasoned. He decided coincidentally that perhaps doing instead of thinking would be more productive, and he unfurled the printout again. Everything read normally up until this point for someone attending a meeting or convention, however the directions took a decidedly different, strange turn from here. A turn which betrayed the true nature of the small vacation he'd decided to take, and the people he was on his way to meet. "4. Upon arrival at Kanashima station, locate a vending machine. Purchase a bottle of juice or tea at least one Liter. Do not use the bathroom." Mizu's grip on the sheet of paper tightened with a tense rustle. He was really doing this... He took one last deep breath, and gazed around his vicinity. The view from the station was mostly unobstructed for a mile or two. Shibukawa, the city Kanashima Station resided in, was fairly rural; a farming town nestled at the bottom of the Gunma hills. From the station, he could see the bullet train tracks, several small homes, plenty of fields, and the dark brown and green hills beyond. It was certainly a far cry of the concrete, glass, and neon of Akihabara. He took a deep breath, the crisp and cool spring air quite refreshing compared to the oppressive, smog-filled air of the city. After a moment on the empty platform, his focus returned to him. The instructions echoed in his head. Get a drink, and don't use the bathroom. Admittedly, he'd used the toilet on the Shinkansen a couple hours ago, and at the moment he was in the borderline state where he honestly couldn't tell if he needed to again. The sensations between his legs were gentle and noncommittal, and what little tingling he felt could probably be just as easily attributed to nervousness. Rather than risk making it a definite, he pushed himself to keep moving, stepping off the platform and over to the nearby waiting area for buses. There, under a wooden overhang, sat three lonely vending machines. One was for cigarettes (and was empty, anyway), so it was of no use to him - the other two were older, refrigerated vending machines for snacks and drinks. Luckily for him, the drinks machine had one last holdout fluorescent lighting tube still buzzing and illuminating the selection. After a couple minutes split between genuine apprehension and presumably browsing, he selected a 1.3L bottle of sweetened green tea. In the end, the extra 300 ml probably wasn't going to really matter if the day was going to follow the trend the instructions were setting. Which, coincidentally, was the next order of business, and after a bit of unfolding, he looked over the next step. "5. Drink half of the bottle now. Afterwards, follow the northwest road from the station until you cross under the Shinkansen tracks." Mizu gazed from the sheet, to the bottle, and back to the sheet again. He was already regretting not sticking to the minimum size on the instructions. But, for reasons he still couldn't quite get a good grasp of, he broke the seal on the bottle and raised it to his muzzle. His pulls started eager, but by the time he'd gotten to roughly halfway, each gulp was slow, deliberate, and separated by full breath in and out through his nose. He finally pulled the bottle away with a wet pop, lifting it up to the light and surveying the damage. It wasn't clear just where half was, but he guessed it was good enough, and screwed the cap back on. He licked his chops, one hand on his middle as he caught his breath, the other stowing the bottle into his luggage. After a few moments, he stepped away from the vending machines, got his bearings, and set off on a jaunty pace towards the hills. The next 45 minutes or so seemed to pass by far more quickly than it should have. Upon arriving at the overpass, Mizuki unfolded the printout, which had returned to giving mundane directions, and continued up into the hills, up ever-narrowing streets, and as the trees and brush grew more present, so did a familiar tickling in his tummy. He tried to ignore it, but it reminded him exactly where he was going and whom he was meeting, and along with his newfound mild need to pee, his anxiety also began to gently return. Gently, at least, until he found he had arrived. He was almost surprised to find he was at the end of his destination, but sure enough, turning around, he could see out over the fields, to the train station, and beyond. He turned back to face his destination. In a past life, the two story home likely had been a rather upscale investment, especially in such a rural town as Shibukawa. Now, however, the home was less regal and more "lived in," the unassuming beige paint faded with decades of warm summers, the traditional black roof tiles serving as a welcome home for moss and leaves. It was not, however, neglected, with a neat and tidy yard and well-maintained compact car in the driveway. Overall, his destination had a homely warmth to it, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, this was a sight better. If only he could convince his feet the same thing; they'd instead decided that they were quite happy where they were and were rather uninterested in budging. After a full minute of wrestling with his apprehension, a gentle gust of particularly brisk spring air swirled past him, tickling him between his ankles, around his knees... and up his skirt. If the shiver he gave wasn't from the chill, it was from his bladder gently reminding him that he'd had plenty to drink before setting out, and the argument was persuasive enough that he nervously padded over to the front door. His right thumb pressed the doorbell, and his left hand smoothed his skirt back into place. A bell sounded somewhere inside, and there was a brief smatter of muffled but excited voices followed by footsteps approaching. Mizu winced, swallowed, and gathered what was left of his nerves while he could. The door clicked twice as the locks each drew open, and finally the door swung inward. Mizu had to lower his gaze to meet eyes with his host; standing easily at five and a half feet tall opposed to Mizu's nearly six foot two was a very laid back looking panda. Adorned in a robe and sweatpants, she definitely gave an immediate impression of youth and informality, and the mop of dark grey hair which hung lethargically off of her head cemented the facade. Despite her hair color, however, she was obviously about Mizu's age. She extended a hand, the expression on her face one of reserved joy. "You must be Mizuki!" He nodded, taking the proffered gesture and shaking with both of his. "That's me! Call me Mizu, though." He gave a nervous giggle. She beamed back at him. "Mizu it is! I'm Yasuko, but you probably already knew that." She gazed downwards. "Where's your bottle? Didja get cold feet about my directions?" Mizu winced and followed with a sheepish grin, reaching down into the pocket of his luggage and producing the bottle, giving it a slosh or two for emphasis. Yasuko was elated, grinning widely and clapping her hands together. "Wonderful! Haruaki chickened out and I made him have a cup of coffee when he got here." There was a bit of an awkward pause as Mizu stowed the bottle in the luggage and waited a beat, before Yasuko perked up. "Oh, come in! It's chilly out there, and I'm sure you want to unpack." She led the Shepherd inside, kicking the door closed behind her. The hall was a little dark, lit by a couple of wall lamps here and there, but it was tidy and warm, letting Mizu breathe a little easier, his tension finally beginning to ramp down. They arrived at a staircase just before the hall opened out into a living room. Yasuko gestured upstairs. "Your room is the first door on the right! Feel free to unpack and freshen up if you want to, we'll be down in the living room." She leaned in again and murmured into Mizu's ear. "Be sure to mind the rules when you unpack your toiletries!" Mizu bristled a little out of excitement, meekly mumbling in reply, "Rules?" The panda grinned a sinister grin. "You'll see~! Up you go, come join us when you're all settled in." She gave Mizu's butt a gentle, encouraging pat and disappeared around the corner. As he started to climb, he heard a distant, "Oh my gawd, he's so CUTE" from the living room. He smiled dopily and was misty-eyed up a smidgeon by the time he reached the top of the stairs. It was decided. He'd definitely made the right choice badgering himself into coming. -- A short time later, he was unpacked. The bedroom was small for a house of this size, but it was bigger than the bedroom of his apartment and much more richly furnished. He'd stowed his clothes in the closet and unpacked his toiletries and other belongings in the bathroom across the hall. He was definitely feeling a good portion of the tea he'd drank working its way downward through him, every bend and stretch while putting things away sending a tiny flurry of tingles and sensations from between his legs. What he felt unpacking certainly paled in comparison to when he'd taken stock of what was in the bathroom, however. He knew now what Yasuko meant by "rules." Running from one side of the ceramic toilet, up and across the toilet seat and lid, and tightly back down to the other side was a strip of thick, high-adhesive tape. On the tape in permanent marker was scrawled, "Off limits! Do not use!" along with a little squiggle, a drawing of a cherry blossom, and a winking face. Upon laying eyes on it, he let a genuine groan out of his snout, leaning forward and resting a hand on his lower tummy. His bladder had been polite all this time with the anxiety and distractions he'd been facing, but now, with only a thick strip of tape and his own voluntary actions keeping him from draining the decent amount of urine stored up inside of his belly, it decided that now was a good time to remind the pup that it was time for a pit stop. And yet, after a moment of hesitation, he'd left the bathroom, and slipped back into the bedroom - without relieving himself. He took a last few moments just to ensure he had everything in order and opened the bedroom door to head back downstairs. On the way out, however, he hesitated, then glanced back at his luggage. The bulge was still present in one of the upper flaps... He turned around and trod over to it, fishing his PET bottle of tea out of its confines, trying not to watch the tea lazily slosh around within before making his way back downstairs. Mizu heard muffled voices coming from the living room as he rounded the bottom of the stairs. He poked his head around the corner. In the middle of the room, on a pair of opposite cream-velour couches, sat Yasuko, and a black, brown, and white Shiba Inu he assumed was Haruaki. He was about Mizu's age... perhaps a little older, broad-shouldered and fit, with a tired expression on his face. He had a beanie on over his auburn hair, a red shirt with an imposing eagle-shaped design, and black slacks. He was reclined back with both arms resting upon the back of the couch, generally facing in Mizuki's direction - and coincidentally looked up as Mizu peered in. This prompted Yasuko to stop mid conversation and look over her shoulder, instantly beaming in his direction and boisterously plapping her hand on the couch cushion next to her. "Come on, you! Join us." Mizu smiled shyly and sauntered into the room, taking a look around. It was just as lavishly furnished as the rest of the house; in an entertainment center was a name-brand Hi-Fi system and a fairly large color TV, and on a desk nearby was a well-cared for NEC PC-98 (complete with its own monitor!), which he figured belonged to or was used extensively by Yasuko. He was momentarily envious. Momentarily until he gave a little yelp of surprise, Yasuko having hooked two fingers into the back of his skirt and pulled his butt couchward with a coy little, "Sit, boy!" He landed with a thump and an audible slosh from his tea bottle, which he set on the table in front of him - noticing an empty ceramic mug and empty plastic water bottle about half the size of his tea bottle standing conspicuously among the magazines and coasters. The panda continued with a confident and playful candor, "Mizu, this is Haruaki, as you can probably guess. Haruaki, this adorable boy," she said, petting the shep behind his ears, "Is Mizuki." Haruaki arched his eyebrows in an "A-ha" sort of fashion, giving a reserved, "Hey" in reply. His voice was much softer and higher in tone than he'd expected. Mizuki gave a little nod and a warm smile, mildly aware of the uncanny feeling of discovery coming to put faces to names and blocks of text on the other side of a modem. Yasuko piped up, leaning forward. "Don't let his act fool you, this nerd was so nervous about our little meetup he forgot to get a drink on the way here. Allegedly." She said, narrowing her eyes in a precociously accusatory fashion. Haruaki's expression cracked, a shy smile flashing across his muzzle for a moment before he wrestled it back away, his face a mite more pink than it was before. They made small talk for a little while. Haruaki was a full time college student, and part time convenience store clerk, studying to be an engineer. He'd found the BBS while wasting time on the college library computers, fishing around for content that suited his interests. Yasuko worked part time for her parents' consumer electronics manufacturing company. Yasuko went on to admit it was how she'd come to live in such a big house on her own - it actually belonged to her parents, but they'd since relocated to Kadoma to be closer to the company's headquarters. Her parents returned a few times a month to check in and visit, but were largely absent. She was the founder of the BBS all three had met on, which was hosted off of another computer and telephone line upstairs in her room. When asked what Mizu did for a living, he meekly replied that he worked for the city of Tokyo doing a lot of really boring paperwork. He wasn't lying, technically. Yasuko changed the subject after a short while, clapping her hands together lightly. "All righty, now that we all know each other, let's get down to business." She rose, and both of the seated canines watched in curious silence as she wandered into the kitchen. She pulled open the fridge door, and for a moment, all that was visible was her pajama-clad butt and puffball tail before she leaned back out, kicking it closed behind her. After a moment, she set down two full bottles of water on the coffee table - the same size as the empty one that was already there. Her gaze swept from Haruaki to Mizu, mischievous grin creeping across her face. "You two came all the way out here for this, might as well get the fun started." And without another word, she broke the seal on one of the bottles of water, closed her eyes, and tipped it upward, taking long, deep pulls from it. Haruaki and Mizu were too busy watching her drink in awe to realize what she quite meant. Her throat worked busily, each gulp audible in the relative quiet of the living room, until she was about halfway done with her water bottle. She opened one eye and stopped, gazing from Mizu and back to Haruaki, before tipping her head forward in a "Well?" sort of gesture. Both of the boys had an "oh right" moment, Haruaki taking a bottle for himself and Mizu collecting his half-full bottle of tea. The shepherd meekly asked, "All of it?," only to be met with a "What do you think" kind of look from the both of them. Oh well. For the better part of a minute, the only clear noise in the room was the eager chugs and gulps of three wayward young adults. After all was said and done, five empty plastic bottles and an equally vacant ceramic mug were the only evidence left of their devious intent, sitting pell-mell on the coffee table. Yasuko burped lazily and leaned back, stretching her arms over her head. "Hokay! Now we wait for that to work its magic... How's everyone feeling?" Haruaki shrugged, still trying to catch his breath. "I could take a leak, I guess..." He mused absentmindedly. Yasuko replied, "Yeah, me too, but it's not bad or anything," adding a roll of her hips for emphasis. They both turned to Mizu. Mizu recoiled slightly, on the spot for a moment, and Yasuko gave a tiny trill of amusement. Within the pup, a nagging sens­­­­ation had begun. Gone was the comfortable, if persistent tingling that had been present most of the trip from the train station, and now the familiar buzzing, insistent need to pee had manifest and was beginning to press on him downstairs. After a moment of fidgeting and working up the courage, Mizu murmured, “I guess I'm really starting to feel it...” Yasuko cackled, startling the others a little. She leaned in to muss his hair with an energetic palm. “You are adorable, you know that?” she inquired boisterously, the pup closing his eyes and growling affectionately with the tussling. “I’d never know those bold posts on my BBS came from you.” Mizu smiled sheepishly, replying, “Yeah, I guess it’s just easier to be confident online…” They made yet more small talk before Yasuko opened a cabinet inside of the entertainment center, revealing a pristine Famicom game system. “Oh dude,” enthused Haruaki from the couch, standing up to join her. “I’ve been trying to save up for one of these, but college life is suffering…” Yasuko grinned back at him while Mizu got up to join them in front of the TV. “I’ve got connections~,” she teased. “The Famicom is great and all, but Sega’s got something new coming out soon, too.” She left Mizu and Haru to fawn over her impressive collection of cartridges, retrieving a pile of junk food and some sodas from the kitchen before joining them. They took turns playing through a pair of games for some time, with Yasuko and Haruaki proving to both be very loud and much better than Mizu at both. Much gaming, trash talk, and general jubilation followed for a while, with Haruaki's performance steadily declining as Yasuko's wiggling and bouncing steadily loosened her robe. Thirty minutes passed. A casual observer would notice that their skill was beginning to decline despite their continued boisterous enjoyment. They'd also notice that, given the Famicom only supported two controllers, one of the three was sitting out between turns, and that the lack of distraction was taking its toll on their composure. On his turn to sit out, Haru had begun to tug on the hem of his slacks and restlessly adjust himself between his legs; Yasuko, the much bolder of the three, slipped a hand betwixt her legs and bounced in place; and Mizu, much more shy, simply let a hand rest on his lower belly and strained against the sloshing, insistent fullness within. Despite their needy bladders, however, they still were obviously and loudly enjoying themselves, and partaking of the drinks and snacks around them to fuel it. After nearly an hour, however, the group had considerably quieted. There was a more tense, uneasy air about them as they took turns - and controllers were being traded much more frequently as all three seemed to be rather rapidly losing their focus. A few empty soda cans littered the floor in front of the entertainment center. Despite three still half-full cans next to each of them, nobody was drinking anymore... but it was too late to stop now. Their swollen bladders simply wouldn't be ignored any longer. Mizu was the first to crack, after a particularly poor bout of playing, letting out a groan of frustration and set the controller down and finally allowing himself to visibly squirm. "Urrrf. I can't focus anymore." The buzzing in his lower belly was now an insistent, urgent throbbing. His restless thighs trembled slightly, rubbing together as he tensed his muscles repeatedly against the intense pressure built up inside. If he weren't here, in this particular situation, he'd have gone to the bathroom a long time ago. He looked up, as if realizing he wasn't alone only just now. Yasuko was still sitting Seiza style, but both hands were on her knees, bent forward and her back arching, butt wiggling beneath her and pom-pom tail shivering. Haru had quit sitting cross-legged at some point and was on his knees now, one hand obviously tucked up between his legs, looking the both of them over with a plain look of anxiety. He spoke, his voice more than a little needy. "This is fun and all... but when do we pee?" Yasuko leaned back to a playful angle, bangs falling into her face, breasts barely covered by her now very loose robe. Her face stated her need well enough, but was layered with a coy, even aroused gaze back at him. "What's the matter? Gonna spring a leak~? We'll all go eventually, don't worry about it!" Haru gazed at her flexible pose and gulped... then nodded. "...maybe..." Mizuki piped up after grimacing, their demeanor in turn reminding him of his own bladder bulging against the hem of his skirt. "That may be, but I have a feeling a toilet's not in the picture..." Yasuko pivoted her head over to Mizu, chewing on her lower lip, perhaps a little more drunk on arousal than was apparent previously. "Nope! That's the rules~" Mizu glanced down between his shivering thighs and then back up at Yasuko. "Well, we're on carpet, and with us being as bad off as we are, isn't that kind of a bad idea?" Yasuko lazily blew the bangs out of her face and Haru mimicked Mizu's downward glance before she replied. "I guess you're right." She directed her gaze over her shoulder, letting one leg jiggle urgently underneath her as she hastily assessed their surroundings. "Let's move over to the kitchen while we can." She shakily rose, unfolding her legs with a stiff groan. She gazed down at Haru, rather looming over him while he knelt, noticing he had snuck another hand betwixt his legs. "If we can still make it." Haru let out an intimidated meep as he gazed back up at her; Yasuko boldly reached over, and slowly popped the button on his slacks as if to make room for his swollen bladder. "Come on, you. You can do it!" Haru gave a needy grumble in reply, making it about halfway up and pausing to squirm before getting himself stood. His hands, however, didn't budge from their station, and instead pulled upward against his groin, struggling to buy himself time. Mizu was able to get up from where he sat with only a little bit of a struggle. At least, so he thought - near the peak of his rising, he started to stretch without even thinking about it, and what followed was a shamefully familiar sensation. A warm surge shot from beneath him, up the length of his sheath, and before he could react, dampened his tights. The pup let out an audible meep and shoved his hands up and under his skirt, now the second person in the room to abuse his junk in a desperate bid to hold back his overfull and overworked bladder. Yasuko practically trilled, grin wide and eyes half-lidded with delight, hooking both of the boys by the arms and dragging them towards the kitchen. "Come on now, before both of you ruin my floor." The trip to the kitchen took a little longer than it would normally with two extras in tow and three very sloshy tummies, but eventually Yasuko, Haruaki, and Mizuki were over the relative safety of kitchen tile. There were several seconds of awkwardness, the three youths gazing over each other as each danced and squirmed against the burning down below in their own ways, before Yasuko, whom had become the de-facto leader of this particular event, let out a flirty little giggle and spoke. "Well, I guess this is it," she mused. "What do you say we make this a little more interesting?" As both boys fidgeted and watched, she shakily untucked her hands from beneath herself, dug her thumbs into the hem of her sweatpants, and slowly, restlessly slipped them off. Now having the undivided attention of her two guests, she smirked a shaky smirk, undoing the sash of her robe and letting it hang loosely, revealing a pair of faded pink babydoll panties... and a quarter-sized damp patch. She let her back rest against the edge of the counter as the boys stared, able to keep a smug composure for about 30 seconds before grunting and shoving her hands back where they were desperately needed. "Hmmmfokay enough showing off. Your turn." Mizuki and Haru were suddenly aware of their own bodies again, and with it the pressure they were both fighting against. Mizu looked over Haru, and Haru returned the favor, shy eyes both searching each other for a few seconds with Yasuko restlessly looking on. Mizu gave a little sigh of defeat, and with one hand, reached up and undid one snap, then the next, on his skirt, each little pop resonating within his bulging, taut bladder. It slid off his hips and onto the tile, and he slid it out of the danger zone with one shaky foot. Yasuko growled a playful, "Show us the goods~" and Mizu gave a shy little smirk in response, heart thudding away in his chest as he got a good grip with his pelvic muscles and shakily let his hands part. His tight, shiny black bikeshorts showed off his bulges rather nicely - both the swollen bladder throbbing in his belly, and his junk neatly outlined by the thin elastic fabric... and the apple sized wet spot just above his sheathtip. Yasuko leaned over, lustful purr rumbling forth as she kissed the boy's cheek. "Adorable! But you better hold tight, you look about ready to pop!" Mizu touched noses with her affectionately before she pulled away, obediently resuming his obvious cupping of his junk. Yasuko turned her attention to the Shiba next, which he was dreading. Mizu glanced over, too, and noted his hesitation as well, the reserved pup avoiding eye contact, both hands jammed in his crotch and his legs crossed. Tightly. Yasuko edged over to him, almost whispering into his ear, "C'mon, buddy, don't you want to join us?" Haru shook his head, gritting his teeth and squeezing his legs tight. "You're gonna ruin those slacks..." Haru shook his head, tugging upward against his junk and twisting his hips. "Too late for that," he mumbled. Yasuko arched her eyebrows, curious, and leaned forward a bit, kissing his cheek and prying one hand away from herself to coax both of the boy's from between his legs. After a little protesting, he finally allowed her to reveal what he'd been concealing: a fist sized damp spot in his slacks. Yasuko trilled with surprise. "Jeez, you're not kidding. Good thing we got you away from my carpet when we did." Haru nodded bashfully, and sighed. "Guess it doesn't matter now..." He shakily parted his legs after a couple false starts, and carefully slipped off his slacks, revealing a pair of pale blue boxers with a shamefully large navy wet patch. "At least I've got the advantage now, I guess." And at last, the three of them were together in various states of undress and in dire, critical need of a bathroom break. Mizu mused to himself that he was probably the worst along, having drank a fair shake more than anyone else and with only a little spurt of relief to make up for it. He certainly felt and showed it, each throb of his bulging bladder eroding his will to continue and a healthy, smooth, firm bulge protruded from below his belly button. Haru continued to clutch himself tightly with his legs crossed, and Yasuko had one hand tucked between her legs, but otherwise seemed in control, the other gripping the counter she was leaning against tightly and her legs shivering. All that was audible was the remaining clothes rustling, deep breathing, and the occasional labored whine or moan. At last, Yasuko, ever the bold one, spoke up. "Don't suppose either of you two think you want to wet yourselves so I can finally win this little contest, hmm?" Mizu and Haru both honestly considered it, their bladders begging to finally be allowed to empty, but at length neither of them did, the last bit of pride, or perhaps shame, not allowing either of them to be the first to burst. Yasuko chuckled. "Didn't think so. But that's okay, because I have my secret weapon~." Mizu and Haru both had a wave of dread watch over them, Haru even flinching a little when Yasuko started to move. But she didn't touch either of them, instead leaning forward (with a moan of frustration as he own overfull bladder protested heavily) and opening the refrigerator. From within, she took out another water bottle, and shut the door, opening the top and giving both of the curious boys a devilish look. "This oughtta make those water balloons of yours pop reeeeal quick." Haru could only manage a meek, "Oh god..." before she pressed it to her lips and tilted her head up. Gulp... In the silence of the kitchen, it rang out loud and clear, the mouthful of water working down her throat and into her stomach. But for Mizu, it might as well have gone straight from the bottle and into his bladder. A wave of pressure washed over him as his bladder contracted, turning to lean on the counter and squeezing his junk in desperation as his grip against his tank full of urine faltered, a very girlish, pleading moan escaping his maw. Gulp... Haru was transfixed, eyes wide as the panda drank, her half naked frame commanding his full attention. His eyes trailed from her mouth, down her throat, past her breasts and stomach... and down to the prominent bulge that rested just above her panty hem. His focus had to come from somewhere, though, and before he realized it, there was a muffled, wet hiss, and from beneath his hands a sizable spurt of pee soaked his boxers and dribbled onto the floor. Yasuko opened one eye, gazing at him smugly as he abused his sheath with both hands to get the flow to stop, his maw agape and panting now. Gulp... Mizu's whole body shook. It was too much. The sound of Haru leaking and the continued, defiant ingesting of water by the girl next to him; all he'd drank over the past few hours; his throbbing, overfull, neglected bladder; it was all too much. The red-hot pangs of fullness in his belly would not be stayed any longer, he had to do something, his crotch burned with the threat of an accident. Just a little, he reasoned. Just a little bit... He let his muscles relax as much as he dared, and soon his own little spurts followed, the jet of urine springing through the thin fabric of his spats, through his cupped hands, and onto the floor with three heavy splashes. Gulp... Haru had every muscle tightened, his sheath squashed shut by his hands and legs, and his body contorting like a child refusing to be potty trained, but it simply wasn't enough. Another sequestered hiss started from within the confines of his constrained crotch, but this one was longer... fuller... heavier... and the spattering on the floor under him didn't stop for several seconds. "No... stop... please..." It wasn't clear if he was begging for Yasuko to stop with her flagrant acts or with his own abused and failing bladder control, but neither heeded him. Another rushing surge of urine shot out like a bespoke fountain from in between his fingers and onto the floor, but this one didn't stop, and before long he had parted his hands and legs and simply let the river of pee rushing out of his sheath and onto the floor of the kitchen go. It arced from his tip out through the fabric of his boxers as much as it drained through both of his leg holes; and the moaning, panting that escaped his open, upward tilted maw were as unrestrained as the flow belting from down below. Yasuko smiled from the mouth of her bottle, but she hadn't forgotten about Mizu, and as her gaze swept to him, he meekly protested with a pleading whimper. Gulp. Mizu's eyes went wide. Something had happened within him. As the panda forced down another mouthful of water, it felt like a fuse had been lit inside of his body. As the water worked down the panda's neck, he could feel a chill run down his spine and rush towards his belly. When the water reached Yasuko's stomach and stopped, the signal within his middle didn't, rushing down past his belly button and crashing into his bladder with immense speed. And then, all at once, he realized what it was. His pelvic muscles relaxed all at once, and with a final, futile yelp, his bladder contracted. Despite the pressure from both hands, a spout of urine sprayed forth from his sheath, soaking his blouse and splashing Yasuko's leg before splattering on the tile of the kitchen floor. He commanded his body to stop, tried frantically ordering his pelvic muscles closed, but they heeded no commands, completely overridden by his own body. He let out a wail of defeat, his hands dropping away from his crotch as he slumped to the floor with a wet splat. His stream of urine arced a good foot in the air through his spats, curving back downward and drenching his chest and belly before finally forming a huge puddle beneath him. Gulp... As both boys looked up, between their pants and moans, still helplessly having their accidents, they realized that Yasuko hadn't stopped drinking. Instead, she'd closed her eyes. Gulp. A few bubbles of air rose in the bottle as the vacuum created by her consumption equalized. Her bladder was the opposite of a vacuum, however, her confidence betrayed by the damage her own mind game was playing within her, and before long, a dripping sound joined the gushing and splashing the two boys nearby were making as three or four droplets fell from her suddenly much darker panties. Gulp. They watched in awe, their own bladders nearing empty and their streams dwindling to trickles, then a couple final spurts, as Yasuko continued to chug. She let the hand holding herself slip away from her crotch, resting on her tummy as the dripping became a tiny rivulet. Gulp. The bottle was mostly empty now, only a good mouthful or so left. Yasuko paused to breathe, although the breath was more of a helplessly aroused moan, as the rivulet beneath pulsed with strength, once, twice, and then finally becoming a full, urgent stream as her own grip finally caved. Gulp. The bottle was empty now. It clattered to the floor as she let it drop, splashing where her growing pool of urine was beginning to encroach upon Haru's small lake, both hands on her belly as her stream grew to a fountain, panting and gasping as her own taxed bladder wrung itself empty. She gazed downward, chest heaving, as her victory over the two also reached its end, pouring forth without any hope of stopping as the boys aside of her looked on, dazed and exhausted. At last, she finished, letting her stream trickle to a stop. All three of them collected themselves, panting and groaning as the puddles they made gradually wicked into their underwear and dangling clothes. Their faces were three unique portraits of relief and adrenaline, the group all practically glowing with the thrill of what they'd done. Minutes that seemed like hours ticked on, until Mizu finally returned to some state of awareness, gazing around at the half-naked pair next to him, then down at the now staggeringly drenched kitchen tile. "Whoa..." he mumbled. Yasuko and Haru seemed to rouse at his words, each taking in the scene before them, Yasuko mumbling "No kidding..." and Haru just bashfully smiling and averting his gaze. Yasuko reached out both her arms, pulling the pair over to give both of them a soft, affectionate kiss, amidst the now singular pool beneath them. "You two are amazing. I've... never felt like this before." Mizu quietly mumbled a "Me, either," and Haru simply nodded, working up the courage to beg another kiss from Yasuko with his lips, which she returned warmly. "Well," Yasuko ventured, the wetness on her body rapidly beginning to cool. "We've got some cleanup to do. What do you boys say you head over to the master bathroom and get those wet clothes off, I'll mop up here and join you in a minute while you get the hot water running?" Mizu, Yasuko, and Haru all exchanged glances, and Haru, who was obviously tenting by this point, shakily rose first, followed by Mizu, who developed a similar problem as he tailed behind Haru to the bathroom. Yasuko took a moment to collect herself, testing her legs before rising, licking her lips and envisioning what was soon to follow as she wobbled to a nearby cabinet and dug out some towels. When she finished and joined them, she found herself involved in something that only partially involved helping each other get washed up. They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening bonding, swapping stories and experiences like any other three young adults would, and after dinner, while their clothes tumbled in the dryer, when they all tucked into bed, each was still glowing, now mixed with eager anticipation for what would come the next day, and the days that followed. Sleep wouldn't come easy; for Haru because he was simply too excited, but for the other two, well... ...that's a story for another time.
  5. Paul’s hands were deep in the pockets of his khakis as his whole body tensed. His leg pushed off the ground and discreetly crossed over his other knee and then he started to bounced. “What’s wrong, bro?” Said Bob, who was aroused by his tall, blonde friends desperate demeanor. Paul’s sweaty face turned to Bob as he continued to bounce. “I really gotta go!” Paul twisted around and sprinted off in a speed walk with his legs remaining tight together. Bob on the other hand smiled and leaned forward as his erected penis threw him off balance. Paul breathed with relief as he approached the bathroom door. He could not wait to empty his full bladder that he had been holding for over four hours. He pushed the door open, and was immediately kicked off of the ground and away . He landed flat on his butt and clenched his crotch in both hands to keep himself from wetting. Paul twisted his legs and squirmed in place as the fall, along with having been so close to relief, had pushed his bladder to the edge. He grinned and bit his lip. Out of the bathroom came a large muscular man with long hair and a thick mustache. He wore a black onesie that was so tight the bulges from his muscles stuck out. He walked towards Paul, breathing heavy, and finally burped into the air, sending a stink across the room. Paul covered his face and kept on hand buried between his crossed legs. The smell was so bad it made his eyes water. He struggled to pick himself off from the ground, and the large man pulled Paul up from his ankle, hanging him upside down. “What you doing boy?” The large man spat out in a thick accent that sounded German or Russian to Paul. “This is Boris’ bathroom,” he said pointing to the door. “No one uses it but Boris!” He pointed his finger in Paul’s face, hoping his words stuck inside Paul as much as the urine in his poor, swelled bladder was. Bob walked forward carefully as his balance was still off from his massive erection from admiring Paul’s desperation. “Yes, yes! I’m so sorry Mr. Boris sir.” Paul kept his legs closed tight, twisting his ankle around the one Boris held in his gigantic hand. He placed his hands against his crotch which was pushing outwards as the urine inside of him seemed to have developed a kind of its own, pushing itself out of Paul against all of his will power and muscles. He had to hold on. “Im so, so sorry. It’s just, we’ve been waiting for the market to open for hours now, and I’ve had to pee since we left the house, and now really have to go!” “Why puny nervous man no go before he leave home?” “My-erg…bladder w-was only at a two for desperation at that point,” Paul stuttered. “Now I’m at a 10-OW-or maybe a 13!” A tear fell from Paul’s face and dropped down his forehead as the pulses in his bladder became so intense he felt he might burst any second. “Mr. Boris s…sir. P-please, I really have to pee so bad. I don’t want to have something embarrassing happen in the store in front of everyone. Please, may I just use the bathroom, please sir, please?” Boris scratched his chin, and stared into space considering Paul’s proposal. Paul meanwhile was still upside down which only added more pressure on his bladder. Even though he was trying to avoid a humiliating accident, hanging up there from this large, ridiculous-looking scary man, he squirmed around with his legs crossed and hands still held tightly. He was not going to last much longer, he feared. People were already giggling as he squirmed in mid-air at his predicament, and Bob didn’t seem to be helping. “Excuse me good sir,” said Bob. “What you want, small, chubby man?” “I couldn’t help but hear this predicament.” “Bob, what are you-“ “Shush, Paul. You seem to be a fellow who enjoys a good muscle match!” Bob swung two fists out like a boxer. “I believe my desperate, bladder busting friend here would gladly have a fun fight with you for the bathroom. What do you say?” Paul’s eyes widened as his whole body froze. His lip quivered as he stuttered. “B-Bob! I can’t fight hi-“ “It deal puny man!” Boris said. ……………. Everyone was gathered around for the fight. The bathroom remained locked with the referee, Bob, holding the key. He walked up to his friend as Boris stretched, readying himself for battle. Bob rubbed Paul’s shoulders. Boris made him change into a tight, black onesie like him, and Paul bladder bulge and penis showed through the latex. “How you feeling buddy?” Paul was shaking and holding himself. “I-I—I-c-c-can’t h-h-h-h-HOLD it much l-longer!” “You’ll do great!” The bell ring, and Boris ran at him. Paul put up his hands and shoved Boris away just in time. His strength intensified from his bladder urges. Paul got on and started making light punched on Boris who laughed at the puny man’s hits. “Whoa whoa whoa!” Said Bob. He pulled PAul off of Boris and felt warm liquids glide down his leg which turned him on, causing him to pop a huge boner into Paul’s butt since he was squeezing PAuls back against him. Paul blushed, and looked down at the accident he made. Urine poured out of him, and a puddle stretched. Everyone started pointing and laughing and taking pictures, and Paul started crying in despair. The end
  6. The following fics are part of the, uh…Impure Thoughts Extended Universe? Previous Two Installments These installments won’t carry the same content warning for weird Catholic BDSM elements as the first two, so I made a separate topic and added a little Clumsy Exposition(TM) The only content that could trouble an omo-happy reader here would be those awkward moments that come with a 1960s period piece, like characters saying “negro” and smoking indoors. I took my time writing due to my interest in developing Chester’s character (he’s much bolder and brasher than Joe, but in some ways just as naive) and my desire to do at least a little justice to New York City in the sixties. _______ CHAPTER 3: THE PERENNIAL NEW YORK PROBLEM Chester and Joe arrive in New York. They get a little lost, and soon Joe is in dire need of safe, clean public facilities that simply do not exist. Construction on the World Trade Center would not begin until 1966, so it is not in the background of this shot of Midtown _______ “Welcome to New York Everybody here was someone else before” - Taylor Swift _______ If you’d been at the Port Authority bus terminal that morning in 1962, you might have seen two young men carrying suitcases: one a lanky, freckled redhead with a foxlike femininity in the face, and the other a broad-shouldered, square-jawed hunk with a determined stride, a fine representation of a 1950s male beauty ideal that would soon be out of style. The redhead wore a grid check dress shirt, a bow tie, and khakis, while the hunk wore green slacks and a short-sleeved madras shirt more appropriate for the warm weather. And if you’d asked their names, as none of the hundreds of people in the bustling station did, you would have learned that the pretty redhead was called Joe and the hunk was called Chester. Their smart haircuts and quality suitcases made them look like upstanding citizens on their way to visit a wealthy auntie, but in fact they were runways. They had spent the night in a Buffalo bus station after escaping from the clutches of a perverted priest at a Catholic college upstate. Joe could scarcely conceal his adoration as he looked at Chester, who was his rescuer, his hero, and the object of his burning infatuation going on two years. Chester was less sure what Joe meant to him; he had delivered his roommate from immediate peril, but upon arrival in New York he had to consider the question, “now what?” In his fantasies he’d always been like a character in a Kerouac novel setting off for the big city alone, but now that he had actually gone through with it he had an innocent in tow, a person who was more than an acquaintance but less than a friend (or a lover), and he didn’t know what his responsibilities to him were. “Bam! Right over the bridge and we’re in Manhattan! What do you think?” Chester asked. “This is the biggest bus station I’ve ever seen,” said Joe, awestruck. “It’s the ugliest bus station I’ve ever seen,” Chester laughed as an angry-looking man side-checked him. “Golly…” “Let’s get out here and see the city.” “Excuse me, I should…um….use the men’s room first,” Joe said, spotting the sign in a shadowy far corner. He’d had a cup of sludgy coffee and a lot of water from the fountain in Buffalo, and he was feeling a twinge. The men’s room was absolutely filthy. The smell made him sick. He could hear noises in the stall furthest from the door: half-stifled moans - male - and obscene sucking sounds that echoed slightly off the tiles. An avuncular bald man wearing a suit and a wedding ring was standing with his ear pressed against the stall door. Another fellow, muscular, about thirty, was leaning against the wall opposite the urinals in tight jeans and a white T-shirt, smoking. Both of them turned to look at Joe with undisguised lust. Joe panicked. He turned and fled, shocked, scandalized, and shaken to the depths of his soul. He walked out to rejoin Chester, trying to look relieved. The last thing he wanted to do was describe what he had just seen. “Now we need to walk abreast like so and carry our suitcases on the inside so they don’t get snatched. New York is full of criminals,” said Chester. Joe looked at him in alarm. “I mean suitcase-snatching criminals, not shoot-em-up criminals, scaredy-cat.” “I’m not scared, I just - “ “It’s okay, it’s okay. I didn’t mean it that way. This is going to be great. No more classes, no more homework, no more curfew, no more banned books and music, no more priests trying to kidnap people...” “Golly.” _______ The sights, sounds, and smells of the city overwhelmed them as soon as they stepped into the street. Within a few blocks, Times Square opened up, with its vast billboards for Coca-Cola and Canadian Club whiskey. They bought some lemonade from a vendor and set off to the northeast, the direction the map Chester bought at the Port Authority seemed to indicate. They walked through a forest of skyscrapers and Joe nearly tripped over a curb because he couldn’t stop looking up at them, wondering what it was like to live or work so close to the heavens. They passed Radio City Music Hall and Rockefeller Center, places they had only heard of, and then bumped into Central Park. “Look, they have carriage rides through the park!” Joe said, “maybe we could come back here tomorrow!” The awfulness of the day before was fading away into the racket of the crowds and traffic; he was getting into the spirit of the occasion. They walked up Fifth Avenue, gawking at the decorated storefronts and the women dolled up like Jackie Kennedy in Chanel suits. They went into one of the stores just to see what it was like, and discovered an upscale display room filled with expensively simple home furnishings in the sleek, space-age style they had hitherto only seen in magazines. Joe was enchanted, while Chester privately mused that J.D. Salinger had warned him about these rich phonies. Joe attempted to greet the old men feeding pigeons around the edge of Central Park, who looked at him like he was an alien. It was early afternoon and getting hot. Their suitcases felt heavy in their hands; Joe had loosened his bow tie. They cleared the Park and noticed that their surroundings were getting shabbier, which Chester took as an indication that they were getting close to Greenwich Village. They walked past a group of black children playing in a fire hydrant someone had opened for them. The sight and sound of the water pouring into the street made Joe’s bladder wince, but it didn’t show on his face. “I’ve never seen so many colored children in one place,” Joe remarked. “Shh! In New York, you have to be hip. The modern term is ‘negroes,’” Chester corrected. He’d been reading about the battles over segregation down South in his contraband political pamphlets, and knew all the modern terms. “I’ve never seen so many negro children in one place.” “Better. You’re getting the hang of it.” They encountered a block full of old men in black coats with beards and curled sidelocks. “They’re Jews,” Chester said knowingly. “Golly!” Joe exclaimed. His immigrant grandfather, who had lived in New York in his youth before moving upstate, once told him there were all kinds of people there, including Jews, but seeing them with one’s own eyes was something else. They went to a greasy spoon called Larry’s Diner for cheap hamburgers and French fries. The food tasted like manna from heaven after a night and morning on the run. Chester took the opportunity to covertly pool and count out their meager cash savings, which would last them four to nine days depending on the frugality of their accommodations. They would have to get jobs fast to afford an apartment, much less two apartments. Joe drank three fountain sodas. He was thirsty from walking for blocks and blocks in the heat. Chester unfolded the map and furrowed his brow at it. He intercepted a man walking past their booth: “Excuse me, sir, we’re looking for Greenwich Village. Can you point us in the right direction?” “Greenwich Village!” the man said, “That’s all the way Downtown. You gotta go down to 14th Street. Maybe 13th Street.” Chester glanced out the window. They were on West 122nd Street. “Well, looks like we got a little lost,” he said. Joe put a hand to his belt buckle and glanced around. The soda was running through him with distressing speed. “Chester, do you think you can ask that man if there’s, um, a men’s room here?” he asked, looking down at his plate. Chester went to the counter and called to the cook: “excuse me, sir, does this restaurant have a men’s room?” “No,” the cook said definitively, then turned back to the grill. “Do you need to find a bathroom?” Chester asked Joe in a low voice. “Yes. I haven’t had the, um, opportunity since we were in Buffalo,” It was embarrassing to admit, after the events of the day before. The last thing he wanted to talk about was peeing. The memory of the wet spots on Chester’s sweater vest in the church basement resurfaced like a nightmare. “I thought you went at the Port Authority.” “I couldn’t go at the Port Authority,” he whispered, “there were people having relations in there. Men. It wasn’t decent.” “I thought you liked that sort of thing.” Joe froze and blushed scarlet to the tips of his ears, as only red-haired people can blush. “Sorry,” Chester said with genuine contrition. He kicked himself; he should have known that Joe was not ready to be teased about this topic, especially by a fellow he’d had it bad for for two whole years. “It’s not important. I can hold it,” Joe announced, suddenly unhappy and fearful. He’d run away from the Church, his scholarship, his family, everything he had known, and he didn’t know exactly why, or whether the person he was with actually wanted to help him. Golly, I’m such a stupid little Poindexter fairy, he thought, crossing his ankles and squeezing his thighs together under the table. He really did need to go. “Time for a bit of course correction. 14th Street. I should have been paying more attention to the grid,” said Chester, frowning. ______ The sun was dropping in the sky, reflecting off of the windows of the tall, tall buildings. They set out across Midtown and down its length again, this time in the right direction down Second Avenue. Chester poked his head into several storefronts. There were no public bathrooms anywhere. He’d heard New Yorkers were a tough breed, but he’s never thought about it from this angle. No wonder the cab drivers were so cranky and perpetually blowing their horns. They were able to stop a middle-aged woman in a green suit with fake pearl buttons, but when they asked her where they could find a public bathroom, she leaned her head back, let out a loud “ha!” and kept walking. They checked the map. Joe shifted from foot to foot. They were now south of the Empire State Building again, and getting closer to the Village, in a roundabout way. They walked and walked. If Chester had to be honest, he also wanted a piss at this point, but he obviously couldn’t match Joe’s discomfort. Joe was in front of Chester, walking as fast as a real New Yorker, his pelvis held perfectly upright and the muscles of his small, high buttocks pulled taut. "Why am I staring at his ass?" Chester asked himself. It was too hot and the city smelled like garbage. They passed more and more abandoned or near-abandoned buildings on their journey down Second Avenue. A vagrant ambled past, swigging from a bottle of gin. A young woman, dressed scandalously, had fallen asleep on the curb. An enormous rat stared at them insolently from beneath a car. They clutched their suitcases tight. The anxiety about criminals made Joe need to pee that much more. Chester spotted a crumbling building with a deep, recessed portico. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he yanked Joe inside. “Put down your suitcase. We can have a nice piss here,” he said. Judging by the smell, they were not the first people to have this idea. Joe gave him a worried look. There were fewer people on the street than in the other places they’d been, but not no one. There were cars and cabs driving past. “It’s okay, see?” Chester said, turning his back, unzipping, and pissing confidently into the corner. The pattering sound made Joe’s bladder contract and he was suddenly dying for relief, as he had been during Father MacLeary’s terrible purgation. This wasn’t decent, but it didn’t matter; it was an emergency. Chester zipped up. “Now you go. I won’t look. I’ll keep watch.” Joe turned into the corner himself, hopping up and down a bit as he fumbled with his belt. Hurry, hurry. He was starting to panic. If he didn’t get himself in hand fast enough, he might start piddling in his underwear. Oh, oh, oh. I must, I must. He took out his pecker and aimed at the corner of the portico where Chester had just peed… …and he couldn’t go. Something had seized up. He stood straining, but nothing came. He felt the leaden heaviness of all the liquid that had accumulated since Buffalo pound against some iron wall he had inside him. “I can’t go,” he whimpered. “Why not?” “I just can’t. Not here.” “Seems like you really need it, though.” He jiggled his knees. “It’s - it’s an emergency, but I can’t go. Not in public.” Chester sensed that saying “you had no problem peeing in front of me yesterday” would make things worse. Maybe that was the problem, after all - the poor guy was still mortally embarrassed and couldn’t relax. Now he felt awful for having emptied his own bladder so casually right in front of him. And for getting them lost. Joe stood for two miserable minutes trying to pee and couldn’t pass a drop. When he buttoned his pants, he groaned with the renewed pressure on his bladder, which felt to him like it was stretched to watermelon proportions. He would just have to hold it longer. He had an awful flashback to Father MacLeary’s claim that the ache of a full bladder is meant to educate rebellious humans about Purgatory. You must hold your water until we have concluded. He shivered in the warm, still air. They went back to the street and Chester observed him visibly cringe as they set off, the kind of misstep and shifty movement that, however momentary, indicated that the situation was serious. “I’m sure that when we get to Greenwich Village, you’ll be allowed to use any bathroom you want. You’re a poet, after all.” “Oh, I sure hope so!” _______ They started walking westward on East 4th Street, toward what appeared to be beatnik civilization. Long-haired young men in jeans and their beanpole girlfriends were milling around newsstands, appearing to have nothing better to do. Chester felt out of place with his crew cut, and had no way to explain to these hip strangers that it had been one of only three haircuts allowed on the Saint Sebastian campus. One of the fellows, shirtless and hairy as a muskrat, hung out of a window smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. He blew smoke with a strong, unfamiliar odor right at the boys. “Sir, do you know where we might find a restroom?” Joe asked, and for the second time they were simply laughed at. After a few more blocks, Joe stopped in front of an automat to bend over at the waist and press his slender thighs together. He felt tremendous pressure at the base of his pecker and needed to squeeze himself, needed it desperately, but knew it wasn’t decent. He crossed his legs like a girl and touched his lower abdomen gingerly. Oh, how his poor, tired, overfull bladder hurt! Here he was again, for the second time in as many days, on the verge of wetting himself in front of Chester, who was so strong and handsome and generous! “Aw Jeez,” Chester said, and placed a comforting hand on his arm, looking around to see if anyone was watching and judging. Chester could feel him shaking. “I have to go really, really bad, Chester. Why doesn’t this city have normal bathrooms?” Chester pondered. A hotel. They needed a hotel room for the night anyway; hunting for apartments and jobs was an overwhelming task and could start tomorrow. Based on Chester’s finances, it would have to be a fleabag hotel, but Joe could have a pee and they could both get some sleep. “Here, I’ll take your suitcase,” Chester said, “I’ll get a hotel room real quick and you can pee there.” “Please, can you…hurry?” Joe said, straightening up with a pained expression. The first hotel they came to was hideous, somehow in business despite having two conspicuous broken windows, and even this was out of their very short financial reach due to charging only hourly rates. Joe could hardly stand still at the counter of that horrible place. He was sweating more than the heat called for. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks were red from a sunburn that would hurt in the morning. Of course their restrooms were for customers only. And just like that, they were back on the march. Joe may have been a poet, but he knew no words in English to describe how badly he needed to pee. He had to try again, he had to. There were no alleys or cul-de-sacs that he could see, and he knew he could never tolerate the guilt and ignominy of sullying a phone booth, so when they came to another abandoned storefront, he ducked into the doorway. The doorway was shallower than the portico had been, and there were more people around, but all Joe could think about was how it hurt to hold it in after walking for miles and miles. The pressure was blinding. He was about to wet his pants in the middle of a strange city. I have to, I have to. He unbuckled and unzipped again, with Chester rushing to stand guard. “Stop, Joe! There’s a cop!” Joe did up his pants again in a flash. If there was one thing that terrified him, it was Authority. And sure enough, a bearish middle-aged New York City cop, the first cop they’d seen in awhile, was walking right by them. “Hey!” the cop hailed, “you boys. Were you pissing in that doorway?” Joe and Chester glanced at each other. What if they were wanted men upstate? What if they were already on posters? Were they going to go to prison? “The law has a pretty damned clear perspective when it comes to pissing in doorways,” the cop muttered, wiping his nose, looking behind them to see if there was a puddle in the doorway, which there wasn’t. The cop looked Joe in the eyes, scrutinizing him. Joe almost flooded his pants in his own defense. He would have been in danger of wetting himself from fear even if he hadn’t already been at the limits of his endurance. It was all he could do to clench his muscles as hard as humanly possible to hold it in against the squeezing downward pressure of terror. “Alright then,” the cop said with a tone of minor disappointment, “you seem like some nice law-abiding young men. Have a good afternoon.” They watched him walk away. When he turned the corner, Joe doubled over again, teeth clenched, legs together, hands on his knees, whimpering as he battled for enough control to keep walking. He felt dizzy and disoriented. He pictured his bladder as a lead balloon expanding inside him, massive and heavy and hot and pushing hard against his belt. Oh, Mother Mary, help me. On the next block, they spotted another hotel. The Mitchell Hotel, according to its theater-style marquee, which had seen better days. Joe started jogging toward it, and Chester took off after him. They opened the heavy Victorian front door. Behind the front desk, a tremendously fat, sweaty man in a wifebeater sat on a small metal stool, reading a newspaper and smoking. His bald head looked like a big red egg. A blackboard proclaimed that rooms were available for the night, and well within their budget. “Hello, sir. We’d like to rent a hotel room and we thought this establishment looked so lovely - “ Chester began. “Ayse, youse wants hourly rates or to stay the night?” harrumphed the man, without looking up. “We’d like to stay the night, sir.” “What are ya, queers?” “No, brothers,” Chester said, “Don and Pat Frasier. We’re traveling on business. We work in advertising - “ “Aye, misters Frasier. We gots a room for the night, if two brothers’ll be willing to share a bed,” he said, winking, as he stubbed out his cigarette in a huge metal ashtray. Chester glanced at Joe, who was gazing toward some unmarked distant horizon and shaking his right leg rapidly. “Yes, that’s fine with us. When we were little we - “ “Aye, I don’t need youse whole life story. Gimme the cash, write youse names in the guestbook and get lost. Room 18 is up on the third floor. Don’t be making any messes my old lady has to clean up, alright?” He threw his weight off the stool gruntingly and went to grab a key from the rack “Edna! Just gave room 18 to some queers!” they heard the man yell as they got on the ancient elevator. The elevator creaked alarmingly as it rose. Joe leaned back against the metal grate with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, breathing hard. He folded his arms tight over his chest so he would not grab himself in front of Chester. A horrendous sloshing shudder went through his bladder as the elevator bounced sullenly to a halt. He bent his knees and keened in his agony - “nnnmmmnnnhhhh!” - as gravity itself cruelly compressed him internally when he was so close to getting relief. When the elevator opened, he ran out into the gloomy hallway, looking for room 18. “Here it is! Here it is! Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh, please hurry up.” Joe bounced on his heels and Chester scurried to his side. Chester inserted the key into the latch of room 18 - or at least he tried to, but it wouldn’t go in. “Please hurry,” Joe groaned as he fumbled. Chester withdrew the key and looked at the fob. “This key says it’s for room 17.” Chester went across the hall and knocked on the dark oak door of Room 17. “Who there?! Not cleaning time! I pay! Go away!” a woman with an unplaceable accent yelled from inside. “Goddamnit, they gave me the wrong key,” said Chester. “Nnnnnnmmmmmmhhhh!” It did not even occur to Joe to be bothered by Chester’s blasphemy. “Shhh, it’s okay, just wait here. You can hold it another minute,” Chester said. “Please hurry!” Chester jogged back down the hallway, glancing back with a hopeful smile as he waited for the elevator to creep back up from the ground floor. So kind. He hadn’t meant anything by the off-color comment at Larry’s, surely not. Please hurry, Chester. Please, please, please. The ancient damask wallpaper in the hallway was water-stained and peeling. The dim light fixture on the ceiling was big and yellow and round enough that Joe couldn’t stand to look at it. Knowing that there must be a toilet or an old-fashioned chamber pot or even a random decorative receptacle in the locked room was maddening. He marched in place in front of the door, grabbing himself hard in Chester’s absence. The feeling of his urethra being squashed down helped, it numbed the pins-and-needles torment of his pecker tingling with the need to pee from root to tip, it let him hold it just a little bit longer. Please, please, please come back, Chester. I can’t wait, I’m going to wet myself again, hurry, hurry, hurry. After several eternities, the elevator creaked open and Chester ran down the hallway holding the correct key aloft like the Olympic Torch. Joe gasped. His heart leapt. He doubled over as his bladder spasmed violently, a wave of anguish crashing into him. “Ohhhhh, hurry!” he cried. Chester put the key into the lock. Joe was standing beside him with his thighs pressed together, one hand on the grimy wall and the other rubbing against his lower belly, teeth bared from the strain of clenching muscles that were fluttering with exhaustion. “Ohhh, please hurry, Chester. Please, please hurry,” His buckled knees were shaking. “Just a few more seconds, Joe.” “Oh Mother Mary help me, oh no - nnnnnnnnhhhhhhhgghhmmm!” He was wetting his pants. It was like a geyser: abrupt and unstoppable. He was pissing at full force, so hard that it made a swishing noise as it gushed out of him and ran down his trouser legs in a hot torrent. It went on for almost a minute. He didn’t have the strength to fight it; all he could do was look down and watch in horror as it happened. A huge puddle formed on the threadbare carpet. “Ohhhhhh, oh golly, oh no, I wet my pants,” he moaned pitifully. He turned the toes of his wet shoes inward and covered his face with his hands. He was fully prepared to die in that moment, even if he was certain he was going to Hell. “Jesus,” said Chester. “This keeps happening,” he lamented, touching his soaked left thigh with the tips of his fingers, “I’m so sorry.” Chester got the door unlocked and ushered Joe inside with a friendly hand on the back. The liquid in Joe’s shoes made a squelching noise. “It’s not your fault. The towering behemoth down there gave me the wrong key. When you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. Judging from the um, odor and the stains on the carpet out there, you’re not the first.” He smiled reassuringly, looking into Joe’s teary eyes as he pulled the suitcases inside and locked the door. He liked the way Joe’s wet khakis clung to his lithe boyish body, although he couldn’t explain why or imagine admitting it. The room was as bad as Chester had anticipated. Most of it was taken up with a full-sized bed, which looked sunken in the middle. There was no telephone. The ashtrays on the nightstands hadn’t been emptied after the last guests, and there were cigarette burns on the bedspread. A number of insects had met their demise in the twin light fixtures on the wall. But there was, miraculously, a private bathroom where Joe could clean himself up and try to wash his clothes in the sink with some old soap flakes. Chester could hear him crying over the sound of the sink running. Poor Joe. Joe was primarily concerned about the puddle outside: “there aren’t any towels in here we can use to clean it up! The man downstairs said we shouldn’t make a mess,” he sobbed from behind the bathroom door. “The man downstairs is a piece of work,” Chester retorted as he opened Joe’s suitcase to retrieve some dry clothes for him. He realized that he hadn’t packed Joe’s pajamas. Goddamnit. He had to show up at the door with only white briefs and an undershirt. “Here you go, buddy. Please…don’t cry. You having an accident, it’s…nothing I haven’t seen before.” Joe looked at what Chester had handed him. “What about pants?” “You’re thinking about being presentable for dinner? I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. We should get some sleep.” “We…?” “It’s not a problem. We can sleep back-to-back like people in the old days.” It wasn’t until they were both dressed for bed that they realized just how fatigued they were. They had been on the move for over 24 straight hours. Their feet and backs hurt from walking all day, and their eyelids drooped of their own accord. Chester, who had remembered his own pajama pants at least, climbed into bed on the far side. The sheets felt grainy and the smell of the pillow left something to be desired. He turned to the wall for Joe’s modesty as he felt his lean body settle beside him. Here I am in New York City, sharing a bed with a homosexual with bladder problems who’s sweet on me, Chester thought. He didn’t have the energy to fret over the implications. They both fell into a dreamless sleep as the sun set over Greenwich Village, delaying until the next day the proper beginnings of their lives. TO BE CONTINUED
  7. Pee pee dance for Mistress before she allowed me to pee 1250ml. IMG_5214.MOV
  8. Good Afternoon all, As a way to pass time at home, I am going to start a desperation channel. I have had a page before, however I didn’t feel very confident in the quality of my videos. I am looking for any video recommendations that you can think of. I am mostly into desperation holding and measuring my holds, but any recommendations are greatly appreciated . Thank you all for the help, and I hope you guys enjoy the videos that will be coming very soon:)
  9. Because sometimes I drink too much before setting out on the three hour ride between home and camp I need to pee at the halfway point. There is a service area there that I will sometimes need to stop and pee at. Today was one of those days. But a few weeks ago the state started a 15 month remolding project and it was closed. I knew this but figured I would be ok, as I have never peed myself while driving, or even in the car. By the two hour mark my bladder was quite full, and my need to pee had increased significantly. I knew I likely would have trouble getting into the house dry. With a half hour to go I was feeling really desperate. My bladder was bulging against my loose fitting sweats, and there was strong pressure in my penis. But I never have peed while driving, I would be fine. But, with ten minutes to go the pressure in my dick felt like my pee started feeling like it was going to come out. I wiggled around so I could squeeze my legs together with my penis between them, while driving. Perhaps sensing relief was coming soon, my bladder started spasming as I started down my road, one mile to go. Fearing I was actually going to wet in the car, I used my left hand to tightly grab my throbbing dick. Pee was pressing hard on my pee hole. I skipped checking the mail, knowing I would lose control if I stood up. As I pulled up in front of my home the need to pee got even more intense. I was unsure if I would even make it out of the car. While putting the car in “park”, I spurted, my black pants glistening with pee wetness before I got my seatbelt undone. Although not a lot, I had actually peed myself while driving for the first time in my life I quickly exited the car and totally lost control as I entered my yard leaving my things in the car for now. I fumbled with my phone trying to disarm my motion sensing cameras as pee ran down my legs soaking my feet and sandals. With my bladder about half empty, I regained control. These pants are not very absorbent so, while wet most of my pee escaped onto the ground. Feeling a bit naughty, and having already wet myself I just let the rest out at my door step. I realized that since I was wearing black pants I decided to bring my stuff in from the car and walk down to check the mail in my wet pants. Since my pants didn’t absorb much of my large amount of pee, I decided to keep them on as they dried. I turned on my computer and took care of some financial business. Then I came here already needing to pee and began reading posts and watching videos. A few hours had past. My need to pee was slowly increasing when I came upon Princess Peach’s Road trip fun. I re-watched the video of her peeing hard and long in a park. This stimulation brought my need to pee to the very edge of wetting my pants-again. I quickly grabbed myself but it didn’t help much. I stood to walk to the bathroom, but I didn’t get far, and my pee came gushing out. Since as I said my pants didn’t hold much, pee just ran down my leg, causing a puddle on the floor. Fortunately there was a towel nearby. I dropped it on the floor and relaxed, letting my bladder empty in my pants, and the towel.
  10. Hi, I know I've been quiet for ages and sporadic poster at best, but today I think my challenge to myself might interest some of you. I was away for the weekend at an event, camping, and had a 4+ hour drive home. So I peed before leaving, and set myself the challenge of drinking two x 1 litre water bottles (refillable, for the eco-conscious reader) and 2 x 330ml Diet Coke cans (already in my recycling ;). I made it near home, and was properly bursting by this point. I'd done just over 4 hours driving without stopping, drunk everything I had with me, and wasn't satisfied. Yes I was really full and desperate, fidgeting (both legs rocking together and outward while I drove) and tense, unable to think about much else, but nowhere near my limit. So I decided two things: firstly, to set myself the target of lasting until 11:30, the 5 hour mark, and secondly, to go via the local supermarket to buy dinner. When I drove into the car park, I realised my desperation had made me sweat, specifically, the nasty sweaty arse-crack that proper desperation can cause. And that had made my shorts a bit damp. So I had to change, and parked in the far corner of the car park for privacy. My bag of dirty clothes from the weekend away was on the seat behind me, so without getting out of the car I rooted through for some other shorts, then proceeded to change in my car seat. That was quite hard to do without leaking, but I managed, and proceeded into the supermarket. On the walk to the door, I did leak a tiny tiny spurt, not enough to show on my shorts but enough to make me proud I was voluntarily going shopping at that level of desperation. The shop was uneventful, I felt full but in control, and had a smile on my face under my mask because of what I was doing. The drive home was also fine, apart from a delay while waiting for an old guy to reverse, very slowly, to let another driver through the other way on a narrow bit of lane. That was typical, and of course, sounds like a made up delay in a story like this. When I got home it was 11:24, so I hadn't peed for just under 5 hours. I was still in control, though would struggle to stand still if I had to talk to anyone. So I set about unloading the car of all the paraphernalia and dirty washing and so on that comes from a weekend camping. I got all of it inside the house with only one more tiny leak, so I started putting it away but when I had a bigger leak, leaving a wet spot about 20mm across. I'm into challenging myself or my girl, the mental torture, the squirming, capacity and measuring but not wetting. Wetting is just going to result in a smaller than potential measurement. So I immediately went upstairs, and peed into a measuring jug, as you can see in the photo. Just under 1600ml is not my record (though it was a few years ago) but is the best I've managed for 14 months, since my personal best 1800ml was set in May last year.
  11. I remember a good few years back now my local town was hosting a civic day parade and as a youth leader I had been asked to lend a hand and supervise one of the floats in that parade. The route only took about an hour to complete but sadly in this case that was long enough. At the time I was about 19 and as mentioned above had been helping run a youth group in the local town, I thoroughly enjoyed it although after this event I had to stop. So that morning of the parade I was wearing some jeans and a t shirt, as I was getting dressed and observing myself in the mirror tucking my dick into my CK white boxer briefs, little did I know that the next time I saw them they would be soaked and my fairly thick bush would we visible through the white. As we gathered in the car park getting ourselves ready to leave I had a bit of a twinge in my bladder, nothing overly serious but I thought I had best go and take a leak before we set off, as I was about to head to the toilet block in the car park one of the other leaders asked for my help with something which distracted me and before I knew it, it was time to set off. It was a warm day so we had packed a lot of drinks on the float to keep everyone hydrated, I was the only youth leader on the float to which I was assigned which was challenging in itself. As we set off on the journey lasting a little over an hour I was pretty confident that my twinge in my bladder would last out. Just like the other 10 kids on the float I had been drinking a fair bit in the first 45 mins and was starting to feel uncomfortable. Not yet desperate but I could feel a sort of dead weight in my bladder and the twinge had started to become almost like an tickling feeling inside me as the truck we were on trundle its way along the route. As we were nearing the end one of the boys came up to me and said he was really needing a pee and if it would be ok for him to pee in the corner on the float where no-one could see. I told him that I was desperate too and that I was sure he could wait, he told me he was about to wet himself and seeing him holding himself made me feel even more desperate but I allowed him to go. As he peed in the corner I heard the splatter on piss hit the floor of the float while some of the other kids made fun of him. The splatter just heightened my desperation and that is the state I was now in, desperation. I couldn't believe it when that thought crossed my mind, I was there standing on a float with a load of kids making fun of another for just peeing in the corner, what would happen if I as an adult ended up wetting myself? It couldn't happen. The last 10 mins of being on the float were torture and I did have to discreetly grab my soft, tortured dick from time to time. My inability to stand still started to become obvious and one of the kids pointed out that I needed a wee too when he saw me grab my crotch. I was ridiculously embarrassed. Once the float arrived at the destination we pulled into another car park at the other end of the town which had a town hall next to it. I jumped off the float and as I hit the ground, sssssssss, I let out a spurt into my cks. I was bursting and then a second ssssssssss, I looked down and saw a very small wet spot, not even a patch, missible to everyone else but I knew what was happening. I made my way as quick as I could to the other youth leaders and told them I had to go for a pee to which they told me they would keep an eye on the kids I was in charge of as I looked really on the edge. I made my way over to the town hall along the way I released a much bigger spurt from my soft uncut dick, I could almost see it nestled in amongst a crown of pubes twitching, trying desperately to stop the flood that was about the unleash. As I got inside there were loads of people, we were nearly the last float to arrive, I knew where the toilets were and I raced down the hall but as I turned the corner I saw a line, as soon as I saw the line I swore under my breath, I really didn't know what to do, I joined the line, hand firmly on my dick, some people watching me, then I felt it, my hand started getting wetter and everything felt still as I heard a small hissing sound grow louder and louder as my legs grew warm, at 19 I actually started to sob a bit and when it was finished i just walked away, some sniggered, some laughed and others felt sorry for me. I went out and told the other youth leaders I was gonna head home to which they said they understood, one gave me a lift home. Strange thing is that on the way back, which my dick seemingly exhausted, the wetness seemed to get me excited and when I got home I did have some fun with myself especially as I peeled off the boxers, looking in front of the mirror as I did that morning. Hope you folks enjoy :)
  12. From the album: bfdi omorashi art

    so at some point in bfb donut was the host because four and x were divided by zero and i bet during the time he was host donut needed to use the bathroom but he learned he couldn't just take a bathroom break during a challenge (this picture takes place during bfb 8's challenge) he is trying to not let the contestants see him
  13. From the album: My furry omorashi Artwork

    I've made an illustration of other Sonic characters, and now I have the wonderful opportunity to make Tails! I always thought Tails would look cute in this situation, and I think it would fit since he in canon have been shown desperate.

    © Cephy

  14. Hopefully the next stop isn’t far….. …..unfortunately that doesn’t seem likely.
  15. sometimes I hate having an omo kink because of how easy it is to get turned on. especially in my work environment. i work as a waitress at a busy corporate restaurant (that shall remain unnamed for obvious reasons). ive been here about 6 months and its probably like like 7th or 8th restaurant position. but anyway. in the type of environment I work in, I am both lucky and unlucky in the fact that I get to witness desperation a lot. practically almost every shift, because working in a busy restaurant, a lot of us generally don't have, (or make) the time to use the bathroom when we need to. we'll hold it for hours because we're just generally too busy doing other things and too distracted and I've got a lot of experiences to write up because of it, but this one stood out to me and made me want to write this tonight because it was a coworker im very attracted to and close with. (its one in the morning and I just got out of work as im writing this. i was just so excited to tell someone about this tbh) so for detailing purposes, coworker in question is in his late twenties, very tall and thin (like idk 6'4 maybe 180? if im ball parking it), very well liked and good at what he does and most of the girls at my work place like to flirt and play with him, obviously he does so back here and there, but with me especially. we actually made out a couple times while we were both on the clock still (don't tell shhh). he happened to be bartending this particular night and we were closing the restaurant together. it was just me and him and the manager left in the building. so im running my financial report for the night (for those of you who don't know, that's when you deposit the cash you owe to the restaurant for the night and figure out exactly how much you made in tips, and divide up your tip out for the hosts/bartenders) and I needed change for a 20$. the bar has a cash register and so I usually ask there first. my coworker is at the POS where the cash register is, counting some dollars and doing some other things that made him look a little busy. slightly stressed. "can I get change for a twenty?" I asked, climbing into the stool and leaning over the bar top. he didn't seem to hear me, but mumbled something under his breath. I didn't hear what it was, and I asked. "what was that?" "i have to pee so fucking bad." thats when I noticed, the fidgeting, the bouncing. he had my full attention now and i watched for a second. he bounced in place and rubbed his legs together, subtley but frantically counting what was in the drawer. i assumed he was trying to hold it until he was done, but i was mesmerized as i watched him draw in a sharp breath between his teeth and suddenly cross one leg over the other, leaning forward at the hips. i was literally in heaven. I tried to stop staring and asked again. "can you just give me change for this really quick, just like a ten a five and some ones" he looked up at me and took it, again seeming very rushed- understandably. i wondered how long he'd been holding it (he'd been there since I got there about 8 hours before hand) as I watched him count out the amount I needed, crossing and uncrossing his legs as he did so. it was so simple, but easily one of the hottest desperation sightings I've had at my job. he handed me what I asked for and I regrettably had to walk away to avoid being suspicious. I finished my financial and by the time I got back out he wasn't behind the bar, so im guessing he finally finished and found his chance to go. he didn't seem desperate anymore by the time I left and hugged him goodbye, but I was more than happy with what I got to see. if you guys are interested in some other work desperation sightings ive had recently let me know! I'm sure I can find the time to write some out xoxo
  16. Pee Shy at a Day Long BBQ This occurred many years ago when I was around 20. I don’t think I ever wrote about it until now. this is a true story . I believe however my recollection is fairly accurate. I remember stories about pee desperation, mine and my girlfriend / fiancée/ wife well, because they are such a turn on for me, and hopefully you as well. I know this is a bit long but I strive for detail. It was about this time of year with long summer days with sunshine well into the evening. My fiancée and I went to a BBQ/party at a friend of her sister’s home. We were outside all day from around noon until after dark around 9PM. Of course there were plenty of beverages including beer, ice tea, and soda. I drank copious amounts of all them heedless of the possible consequences. I was having a good time and never thought about my bladder until it reminded me of its fullness. By around 3PM we migrated over to a nearby field to play baseball. I made some excuse not to participate, but the real reason was I didn’t want to run around because I needed to pee, badly, and to do so would hurt more than my bladder already did. I walked around back of a small building, with the idea of sneaking some relief. But I quickly realized there was little privacy there, because there were too many people around, so I would have to keep holding it. About an hour past and we returned to the house. By this time my bladder was severely distended and I was in serious pain. I also experienced strong pain and pressure in my penis too. I was too shy to admit I needed to pee very badly, and ask to use the toilet, so I just suffered quietly. I didn’t notice anybody else going pee, but now I know they must have. There was more drinking and running around playing games, and squirting people with squirt guns (the super soaker was not invented yet- that would have helped me out). Someone suggested escalating to a hose. I had a ray of hope. If someone sprayed me with a hose it would hide me wetting my pants. Heck I could even continue letting it out in my pants after an accidental release, and no one would know. But for some reason that idea was squashed, so that ended that idea. I couldn’t participate in the fun, because of my desperation to urinate. I just sat at a picnic table and watched, as running would have caused me to have an accident. Another hour or so past, so it was now around 5PM. I had to pee badly about 2 hours by then. My bladder felt like it was going to split open, and the pressure in my penis, especially at the tip was so intense that it was throbbing in agony. Then it got worse with the heavy-duty waves of desperation. My pee began to feel like it was going to come out. Eventually I had to start holding my dick with my hand to keep the huge buildup of urine inside. My fiancée came over and sat beside me and asked what was wrong, why I was just sitting there by myself. I admitted my plight to her; I had to pee extremely badly. She said I should go in the house and pee. But I told her I would not make it, as my pee felt like it would come out if I stood up. Besides I would have to keep holding myself as I walked, or I would defiantly wet my pants on the way. She looked down to my lap and saw my hand tightly gripping my penis and I was squirming my legs back and forth. She just said “oh, what are you going to do”? All I could do was to keep holding the best and as long as I could. I just could not admit my need to anyone else. Dumb I know .My pee pressure was pushing hard against my pee hole, but not yet through it. I know logically I could not just keep holding it forever, eventually it would come out, but I was not thinking of that certainty, I just wanted desperately to hold my pee a bit longer. I considered finding a bush to pee behind, but, again, I could not stand without holding or wetting myself, and I was afraid of getting caught. But then something weird happened. While the pain in my bladder got worse, with my whole abdomen cramping, and my kidneys were hurting, the pressure at my pee hole stabilized. My pee felt like it was pressed right against my pee hole, but did not go through. I now think the same condition that caused me to be unable to pee with people around kept my sphincter locked shut. Then as my bladder expanded well beyond capacity, it stretched and pressed down onto my urethra preventing urine flow even when I wanted to go. Unbelievably a couple more excruciatingly painful hours went by, and it was now past 8PM. I wanted to scream out in agony, but didn’t. Once I realized I was not going to wet my pants, I stopped holding myself, but since jostling my bladder caused even more pain I stayed as still as I could. Why didn’t I just go for goodness sake? I just didn’t. By this time an accidental leak or spurt wetting my pants would be a relief, and I would not have decided to go. I didn’t care about embarrassment. As darkness approached someone suggested setting off fireworks. Oh my God no, I just wanted to go home and pee, I can’t stand this pain any longer. We had ridden with my girlfriend’s sister, so leaving was not an option. Fortunately, the fireworks didn’t last long and around 9PM we left. I gingerly walked to her car, and carefully sat down so not to squeeze my bladder. Once seated in the back seat of her car, I was able to unbutton the top of my jeans for some minimal relief. I rubbed my aching bladder and penis hoping to lessen the pressure and pain. It didn’t help. I glanced over at my girlfriend and noticed her hand was buried in her crotch and her legs were squeezed tightly together. I said you too? She replied: " yea, I haven’t peed all day either, I feel like I am going to pee my pants. I know you have been holding it for several hours. Haven’t you at least leaked into your briefs?" I had not. This was my first indication she had to pee that day. She reached over to check my jeans were indeed still dry. I told her just don’t press on my bladder. I got dropped off at my home I went inside and immediately rushed to the toilet. I unzipped and pulled my throbbing penis out expecting a huge gusher of urine, but …. nothing, not a drop. WTF! Hours ago I thought I was going to wet my pants, somehow I held on, and now despite severe agony I could not go. I just stood there begging my pee to come out as fervently as I begged it to stay in hours earlier. I was scared. What had I done? What if I couldn’t pee? Eventually I few drops came out, then a minute later a few more soon I was able to release a weak intermittent stream. It stopped and started. Finally I was able to urinate, a weak but steady stream. Then with the initial pressure relived the flow stopped. I still had to go. I kept pushing and eventually got going again this time a little bit more forcefully. I still peed slowly for close to a minute. The whole process of emptying my bladder took at least 10 minutes. I learned later that apparently as I said my bladder was so stretched it was pressing on my urethra preventing my urine from flowing. I thought next time I just suck it up and admit I had to pee or I would even just wet my pants, instead of sitting there holding myself, anything but this. However, although not quite as severe, I did this again, more than once. My fiancée said she just made it home dry, but she started peeing as soon as she pulled down her pants. Some landed on her pants and the toilet seat, before she sat down.
  17. I remember at my time at the army. The first weeks of the basic training were very hard. They did wake us up every day early in the morning. A few minutes later we had to be out at the yard for morning sport. No time to take a morning pee before sport. It was late autumn and despite it was cold in the morning, we had to wear nothing but our short sport shorts. Bare feet’s and the cold air on the skin, was not really a help for a full bladder and a strong urge to pee. The boy ( young man, we were 18 - 19 to that time) who was standing on my left side did always moan that he would need to pee so bad and that it would be torture what they are doing to us, to force us to make exercises with a bursting full bladder. I always have been in omorashi, i always did like the feeling of my own full bladder and i did always like to see girls and boys desperate to pee. The legs of our shorts were wide and once i did see a few drops of pee running down on the nude skin of his left leg. After the sport all boys were running to the bathroom, to take a much needed pee. Onetime, it was at our national holiday, they did bring us for a celebration to a large square in our capital city. We did leave early in the morning and they did bring us back late afternoon. We did not get one chance to piss all day long, they did not even ask us if we would need to go. I think they did know very well that we were full to burst, but nobody did care about it. Young men had to be able to hold it. On the way home at the back of the lorry, some boys were frantic to piss, they did knead and press their penis to keep their uniforms dry. Back at the barracks, we had to jump down from the lorry, what was hurting a lot with a bursting full bladder. After that, they made us stand in row for 10 minutes. I think they wanted to make us hold it longer, they wanted to see us suffer and they wanted to torture us. Another time, we had a night exercise at the country and in the wood. It would have been easy to piss anywhere, but we were not allowed. Most of us were needing to go after many hours. One of my roommates did need to pee really bad and he asked me if he should ask for permission. I told him that they would not let him go and that he should try to hold it. After some more time, he said that he had to ask, because it was getting so bad that it hurts so much. He asked and he got told that he is no more a little school boy, he is a healthy, young man and he had to learn discipline. ”Pee holding it a good way to train and to learn discipline “ they said. He was not allowed to pee for hours more, he had to hold it until we were back at the barracks. From time to time he told me how bad he would need to piss and how much his bladder was hurting from holding it back for so long. I did love to hear that and i did love the feeling of my own overfilled bladder. The most arousing for me was the daily morning sports. So many, most slim and athletic boys, nearly nude, with full bladders in their abdomen, with a strong urge to pee, had to do exercises- jumping , stretching, moving-where their bladders got tortured more. Some of them had goose pimples, from the cold air and from needing to piss sooo bad, especially this boy’s who did drink to much at the evening before. Does some of you have experiences from the army, where you or some other was forced to hold it?
  18. this is a quick sketch but there is something bigger coming soon :3c
  19. WARNING: all characters are adults in this story but there is strong nudity snd sex scenes. Just wanted to make that known ahead of time . Nothing violent or bad, all legal and adults just letting you know. Pablo, a twenty something tall, blonde hair guy in excellent shape woke up. Pablo got out of bed and stretched, completely naked. His pale white skin but thin muscular body that showed off his rib bones and v-shaped back. His strong, hairy calf’s that he bent backwards and grabbed to stretch and crack his leg knuckles. He bent over and his rock hard ass stretched open as his long dong pointed to the floor. He stretched his body, kicking one leg back as the other bent at the knee in front of him, and did it with the other side. He stretched both arms in their air as he cracked his hand knuckles and twisted. Dear lord his body was amazing. Pablo scratched his hairy crotch and then walked outside his apartment. In it, Billy sat. Billy had his shirt off and Pablo felt aroused. He walked over and said “hey Billy, can I feel you?” Billy grabbed Pablo’s crotch and rubbed it, making it rock hard. Pablo breathed heavy as each stroke excited the feeling between his legs. “Oh...oh...oh yeah. S...suck it.” Billy did. He placed his mouth on Pablo’s long cock, and sucked on it making Pablo’s back twitch and legs quiver. His body flicked back and forth and side to side. “Oh god, oh god.” Pablo’s cock tasted like a salty sausage, with a smooth outer layer. Pablo grabbed Billy’s head and felt great. But then his bladder twitched, and with that twitch came a sudden burst of morning pee pain that was so heavy his knees bent from the weight. To be continued
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