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I've noticed a lot of threads about people holding it, and then posting what is happening to them as time passes. I've decided to consolidate this into a single thread in order to keep the board from getting cluttered. I will keep this short and sweet. Basically, if you're holding it right now and you want an audience, go ahead and post in this thread. Mention things such as your level of desperation and provide as many details as you can. While I would prefer all live action stuff to go in this thread, that doesn't mean you are obligated to do it. If you would rather, you could always hold it, do what needs to be done, and then post a separate thread about what happened. This is subject to change as questions and problems arise.

I promised male-male, and here it is! This is one of at least a half-dozen story ideas that I came up with over the past few weeks. I had another one that I was *sure* I was going to write next, but then literally yesterday, I saw the word "woodcarver," and here we are. (Note to self: it's probably not the best use of mental powers to turn any word into an omo-based story!) *** “Here, darling.” Caroline Docell reached over to straighten her son’s bow tie. Charlie smiled half-heartedly in response, and his mom titled her head sympathetically. “I know, honey,” she assured him. “These thing get exhausting. But it’s good to get to know people, and it’s important for your dad. Besides,“ Caroline continued over Charlie’s resigned sigh, “The Fawcetts have two sons around your age, and I’m sure they’ll be there!” Nodding his assent – or at least his desire not to argue – Charlie leaned back against the car seat. Of course he understood the importance of attending these ridiculous galas, these bastions of ostentation. His father’s job as a professional fundraiser depended heavily on knowing “the right people” and “being seen in good circles.” And part of being seen meant showing off his shiny, photogenic family. Marty Docell did make an effort to use his kids judiciously, and it’s not like children were invited to many fêtes or fancy dinners, anyway, but as an 18-year-old senior in high school, Charlie was at a stage where he was fairly discomfited by the preening and pretension. Black-tie dress code, high-ceilinged rooms, vapid conversation…Even the promise of peers (well, people his age, at least) wasn’t particularly enticing. Yes, Charlie had met some good friends and had some valuable commiseration sessions with fellow teens at these type of events throughout the years, but he was just as likely, if not more so, to meet kids who were clearly trying to prove that they belonged in the glitz and glamour – kids whose default posture seemed to require keeping their noses in the air and who followed up initial introductions with overtly esoteric questions about a certain United Nations activity or the economic fluctuations in Laos. Charlie nearly shuddered at the thought. His dad had told him about the Fawcett’s two sons – Wendell and Harrington, names that didn’t exactly inspire confidence in their potential sociability. They were both a bit older than Charlie, a junior and sophomore, respectively, at Georgetown University. Normally, having the chance to talk to two students at Charlie’s dream college would be exciting, but as the sons of one of the wealthiest families in Washington, D.C., there was absolutely no guarantee that they’d gotten in on their own merit. “Ready, team?” Marty gestured out the window as their driver pulled up a tree-lined driveway. Charlie’s heart sank. The mega-mansion that rose up over the hill dashed any hopes he’d allowed himself that this party might not be that bad, that maybe the people would be relatively down-to-earth. Instead, the stone-and-pillar monstrosity said, in no uncertain terms, that this was going to be a gala gala, a proper, high-class function packed with people whose only goal in conversation was to make themselves look good. Both Marty and Caroline looked apologetically at their son, but Charlie just straightened his spine and rolled his head back and forth like a boxer loosening up before a round. He’d done this before, and he could do it again tonight. It would only be a few hours, after all. Smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his tuxedo, Charlie unfolded from the car. The evening wasn’t cold, thankfully, so they had no coats to hand to the event staff. Mr. and Mrs. Fawcett were waiting to greet their line of guests in the entryway. Charlie had a brief vision of a royal court announcer, the kind that would bang a staff on the ground to get the room’s attention before loudly calling the names of all entrants. Charlie smothered a giggle as his parents stepped up to be introduced. “Of course!” Mr. Fawcett bellowed, pumping Marty’s hand enthusiastically. “Wonderful to have you, Martin! I heard about the wonderful work you did for the new psych center out in Arlington.” Marty smiled back, just as earnest. “My wife, Caroline,” he gestured, knowing that introduction lines weren’t the place for long conversations, “and my son, Charles.” “Good to have you, welcome, welcome!” Mr. Fawcett beamed as Charlie and Caroline shook the hands of their hosts. “My sons are around here somewhere…” Mr. Fawcett did a quick scan of the room, a task greatly aided by his towering height. “There’s Delly, over there talking to Ambassador Strom-“ Charlie followed Mr. Fawcett’s eyeline to a young man who could only be described as “strapping,” laughing heartily next to a silver-haired gentleman. “-and Harrington…” Mr. Fawcett trailed off, apparently not seeing his younger son, but recovered quickly. “Well, do enjoy, have some hors d’oeuvres, mingle! I think you’ll find, Marty, that there are some very good people here tonight who would appreciate someone honest to guide them to where their money would be best put to use!” Charlie couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at this seemingly honest assessment, but Marty just smiled and nodded appreciatively, leading his family into the fray. A member of waitstaff appeared out of nowhere, offering bite-sized morsels that probably had very fancy names, while another nameless server offered slim glasses of champagne to the family. Marty glanced at Charlie, silently assenting, should his son want a glass, but Charlie gave his head a little shake. He didn’t particularly like champagne (even, he imagined, obscenely expensive champagne), and he didn’t think alcohol was going to benefit him tonight. It took a few more minutes for another staff member to appear with a tray of water glasses. “Still or sparkling, sir?” “Still, please.” Charlie sipped on his newly-obtained water and looked around the room. Wendell Fawcett (“Delly,” apparently) had moved on from the ambassador, but was putting on a similar performance with a small group of bejeweled women. Charlie had seen enough to decide that he really had no desire to meet Wendell, at least not tonight. Even if he was a decent guy, the elder Fawcett son was clearly in his element schmoozing with Washington society; he wouldn’t be of much social help to Charlie. Seeing no other guests within a solid 20 years of his age (so much for that younger Fawcett), Charlie stuck with his usual game plan of sticking close to his parents, nibbling on the proffered food, and politely responding to the repetitive questions the other adults directed his way. The gala was among the biggest that Charlie could ever remember attending. The house itself was gigantic, and it seemed like the entire first floor was filled with people. The ballroom was teeming with formally-dressed elite, but there were also hundreds of guests throughout the library, the study, the living room…Charlie lot track of the layout of the house as his father wound his way through the crowd, cheerfully talking with potential donors. After about two hours, Charlie found himself shifting from foot to foot. The tedium of the evening was getting to him, but Marty was on a roll. Mr. Fawcett had been right – people were eager to speak to Charlie’s dad and hear about the various projects his company was fundraising for. Absentmindedly, Charlie pulled at his collar. The house climate was well-controlled, but being around hundreds of people for so long was making the air feel thick to Charlie. Like the waitstaff from earlier, Mr. Fawcett was suddenly at Charlie’s elbow, a fascinating feat for such an imposing man. “You know-” Mr. Fawcett leaned down conspiratorially. “-the air is probably a bit cooler down the basement.” Charlie looked up the host, choking down a yawn. “Sir?” Mr. Fawcett beamed. “You’ve hung in there for quite a while, kid, but it looks like your parents will be busy for quite a bit longer. If you head to the back of the house, past the hallway bathroom, there’s a door that’ll take you downstairs. There’s a game room, a TV room…hell, you can hang out on one of the couches and take a nap!” Charlie’s yawn morphed into an awed sigh. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should politely decline – even at the legal age of adulthood, going unsupervised into an otherwise off-limits area of a host’s home wasn’t exactly peak etiquette – but he desperately wanted a break. Maybe even that suggested nap. Charlie glanced toward his mom, but Caroline was already nodding her approval. Charlie turned back to Mr. Fawcett, eyes wide with gratitude. “Thank you so much, Mr. Fawcett. I really appreciate it.” The genial man clapped Charlie on the back, then pointed him in the direction he had indicated earlier. Charlie didn’t hesitate; he was so ready to not be surrounded by rich adults. He wound his way through the rooms and out to the hallway, which itself was still full of people. He saw a line of people waiting for the bathroom, so he slipped past them and opened the next door to find a well-lit stairway. Charlie shut the door behind him and took a deep breath. The air already felt less close, and the noise of the gala faded with every step. The sudden lack of overwhelming chatter made Charlie feel like he’d stepped into another world. At the bottom of the stairs, he was deposited in a large game room. He walked past two pool tables, a foosball table, and a giant collection of video game consoles. Past the game room was a gym that could’ve easily fit in a swanky hotel, with more cardio machines and weight racks than the family could possibly use. Down the hall from the gym, Charlie found the library and the TV room. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to figure out the massive home theater setup, but before he could figure out what to do (that nap was still a possibility), he heard a small noise coming from the other side of the room. There was another door, partially open, on the far wall of the TV room. At first, Charlie assumed it was some sort of pet or other animal. The noises sounded distressed, though quiet. Slowly, Charlie made his way across the room. “Hello?” He pushed the door open to find a small workshop of sorts. There was a tall table in the middle of the room, covered in raw pieces of wood, as well as intricate carvings in various stages of completion. The floor was littered with shavings. And in the corner of the room, perched on a stool, was a young man. Charlie froze. “Oh, I’m-“ But he cut himself off as the took in more details of the scene. The young man was tall, but hunched over. He was twitching and making soft, irregular whining noises, as if he couldn’t stop himself. His hands, however, were working diligently and skillfully, whittling away with a sharp knife at a small block of wood. He was still in formal dress, but he bow tie was completely undone, the strip of cloth just hanging around his neck, his shirt was untucked, and his jacket was long gone. For a moment, Charlie stood, transfixed by the sight of curls of wood falling from the young man’s hands. The movements were mesmerizing, and Charlie’s mouth hung open slightly. In the next instant, however, Charlie was drawn back by the whimpering. The young man, who could only be Harrington Fawcett, was clearly in distress. “Ah-“ Charlie snapped his mouth shut, unsure of what to say. He was intruding in Harrington’s house, after all. “Are…are you OK, man?” Harrington’s shoulder jerked forward, so Charlie could only assume that he’d heard him, but the young man – boy? – didn’t respond. Charlie frowned. No one had said anything about the younger Fawcett having a disability of some sort, but Harrington wasn’t talking and wasn’t acting in any way that fell within the bounds of typical social interaction. “I…” Charlie was increasingly unnerved. “Hey, I don’t want to bug you, but…” Harrington sniffed, and Charlie saw a tear slip down his cheek. His shaking was even more pronounced, to the point where Charlie was surprised he managed to stay on the stool, but his hands never stopped whittling away at the block of wood. Thoroughly unprepared for this situation, Charlie tried again. “Look, man, can I get someone for you?” Harrington sniffed again, but shook his head vigorously. Charlie let out a slow breath; at least the boy could hear him. “Okaaaaay…” Charlie whispered to himself. He raised his voice to speak to Harrington “Then can I-“ Charlie stopped himself again as he saw Harrington’s knife-holding hand slip off the block of wood, an uncharacteristic break in the previously-controlled movements. Charlie’s eyebrows drew together with concern. Harrington curled his shoulders forward, and tears started to pour down his face. His body shook with silent sobs. Just as Charlie was about to open his mouth to insist on getting someone to help, he heard another odd sound. A liquid, trickling sort of sound. Charlie didn’t even have time to mentally question the noise before he saw the source – a dark, growing stain down Harrington’s left leg, ultimately dripping off the cuff of his tuxedo pants, creating a puddle on the concrete floor. Blinking in confusion, Charlie glanced up from where his gaze had followed the wet trail down to the floor, and he saw that Harrington had resumed his carving, his hands making quick, frenetic movements, tears still coursing down both of his cheeks. It felt weird and intrusive to watch a college student – a presumably sober one, at that – have an accident, but Charlie figured that leaving or turning around would be even weirder. He settled for looking awkwardly down and to the side. Not that Harrington was looking in his direction, anyway. After several long seconds, the trickling sound stopped, though Charlie could still hear Harrington’s suppressed cries and the sound of the knife working away at the wooden block. Cautiously, Charlie raised his eyes. The scene in front of him was much like it was when he’d first walked through the door – a trembling young man, sitting on a stool, whittling a piece of wood. Only now, there were wet streaks down his face and his pants, and a puddle of urine beneath the stool. Charlie drew in a deep breath. “Harrington?” he said hesitantly. “Do you…can I…” He held his hand out, then dropped it to his side. What do you say to a total stranger who just peed his pants in front of you? Facts, Charlie thought. Stick to the facts. “You can’t just stay like that, dude,” Charlie said gently. “You have to get cleaned up.” Harrington twitched, which Charlie took as another sign of acknowledgement, but didn’t move to get off the stool. Charlie forged on. “Can you go upstairs and change?” Tensing all over, Harrington shook his head emphatically, a tight, nervous refusal. “Okay.” Charlie nodded reassuringly. He didn’t understand the man’s reasons, of course, but he was starting to get a picture of Harrington’s behavior. The young man desperately didn’t want to be upstairs in the crowd. Fine. Charlie could deal with that. “Do you have any other clothes down here?” Charlie asked hopefully – maybe a laundry room or something? Harrington shook his head, more slowly this time, almost sadly. His tears had slowed but not stopped, and he looked miserable. Charlie was formulating a plan. It wasn’t a very good one, and he wasn’t sure it would work, but the alternative at this point was leaving Harrington alone, which, in Charlie’s mind, wasn’t an option. “Okay, so you can’t go upstairs, and you don’t have any extra clothes down here,” Charlie narrated. Harrington kept carving. “Then I’m going to go upstairs,” Charlie declared. He saw Harrington’s hands pause for just a second, but the young man still didn’t say anything. “I’ll find your room and get you some clean clothes,” Charlie continued. “No one at the party really knows me, so I won’t draw much attention. You can stay here. No one has to know.” Harrington’s lower lip trembled, but he didn’t offer any overt dissent of Charlie’s plan. Not quite used to Harrington’s silence – he’d only “known” the guy for about five minutes – Charlie nodded. “I’ll…be back soon.” Making his way back across the extensive basement, Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, dazed at this turn of events. Somehow, he had to sneak up two floors in a giant, unfamiliar house, find the bedroom of a man who he still hadn’t technically confirmed was Harrington Fawcett, grab some clean clothes, and sneak back downstairs, without being seen, or at least without being stopped. He’d started the night thinking he’d spend the whole time making inane small talk with rich, old people, and now, he was on a self-imposed quest for a rich, young person who had wet himself in his own house. Weird. Charlie paused at the top of the stairs to make sure his tuxedo was still presentable, knowing that any signs of dishevelment would only draw attention. He slipped out the door into the still-crowded hallway, not making any eye contact. He knew that there was a grand staircase in the entryway, but Charlie also figured there would be some sort of back set of stairs. Relying on nothing more than educated guesses, he made his way toward the back of the house. There were still plenty of people, but the crowd thinned a bit as Charlie approached the kitchen. He stuck his head through the doorway and nearly gasped with relief when he saw a set of stairs going up in the fair corner. Charlie didn’t hesitate as he strode across the room. There were a few catering staff, but Charlie correctly assumed that they were all hired from an external company and had no real interest in policing the boundaries of the party. Up the stairs, Charlie found himself in a long hallway. The doors were all shut, but it was quiet; Charlie could only hope the lack of noise meant a total lack of people. Seeing no other option, Charlie tried one door at a time, pausing to listen before he opened each one. The first six doors seemed to be four guest bedrooms – well-decorated, but no personal touches – with guest bathrooms between each pair. The next rooms were an office of some sort and another TV room. Charlie closed his eyes in frustration after shutting the door of the TV room. Who really needed all these rooms, anyway? Whatever happened to the upstairs just being bedrooms? He turned the corner at the end of the hallway and continued trying doors. A bathroom, then a bedroom that Charlie gazed around a bit before deciding it must be Wendell’s. It was larger than any of the guest rooms, but the collection of politically-based books on the bookshelf looked like they belonged to the young man who was easily hobnobbing in the party, not to his younger brother who was hiding in the basement. With a sigh, Charlie closed the bedroom door and tried the one across the hall. Bingo. Harrington’s room was covered in models and wood carvings. It was slightly messier than Wendell’s room, but not a disaster by any means. It just looked like more of a haven, a place that was Harrington’s own in the midst of the carefully-curated mansion. Charlie leaned over the windowsill for a moment, admiring the carvings lined up there. Harrington really was talented. Still, Charlie wasn’t here to snoop; he had a job. Charlie quickly rifled through the wardrobe, settling on a pair of plaid pajama pants. He grabbed a pair of underwear from the top drawer, marveling briefly at the continued oddity of the situation, then folded his stash under his tuxedo jacket and headed back downstairs. Maintaining his practice of not looking anyone in the eye, Charlie strode across the kitchen and back to the hallway with the basement door. He didn’t see anyone he knew (which really, only consisted of his parents and the Fawcetts), and none of the other guests seemed to care about the shifty teenager winding through their midst. Breathing a sigh of relief, Charlie shut the basement door behind him and bound down the stairs. His part of the mission was essentially done. He made his way across the basement, pausing at the kitchenette in the theater room. On a whim, he grabbed some paper towels and ran them under some water in the sink. He hadn’t thought to grab soap or a washcloth upstairs, but he figured Harrington should probably clean up a bit before putting on dry clothes. Back in the wood shop, Harrington hadn’t moved, although, Charlie had to admit, he did look calmer. He’d stopped crying, and his breathing was more even. He was still working on his carving, but his hands looked less tense. “Here.” Charlie pulled the pants and underwear out from under his jacket and set them on the edge of the table along with the damp paper towels. “I’ll…” Charlie knew he really couldn’t do anything else – lead a horse to water and all that – but he didn’t want to just leave Harrington alone completely. “I’ll be in the theater room if you need anything else.” True to his word, Charlie settled in one of the corners of the huge sectional couch. He still didn’t want to mess with the TV, so he just pulled out his phone. It didn’t take quite as long as Charlie implicitly expected – maybe 15 minutes or so – for Harrington to emerge. Really, Charlie hadn’t been sure that the boy would leave the workshop at all. But leave he did, in just a white t-shirt and the pajama pants that Charlie had collected. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were puffy, but he didn’t look nearly as anguished as he had when Charlie first encountered him. Charlie glanced up, but didn’t move from the couch. He had no precedent for this situation, and he didn’t want to do anything to make Harrington more uncomfortable. The younger Fawcett son sat in the opposite corner of the couch, curling his long legs in front of him. For a couple more minutes, he stayed silent, and Charlie went back to scrolling through his phone. “Thank you.” Charlie nearly jumped. Harrington’s voice was quiet, but much deeper than Charlie had expected. He looked up. Harrington was worrying the hem of his shirt between his fingers, head down. “No worries, man,” Charlie replied, sincerely. “Like I said, I didn’t mean to barge in on you like that.” Harrington was quiet for a few more moments. Charlie wanted to stare at him, to try to figure out exactly what was going on with this otherwise privileged young man. But he just went back to his phone, barely paying attention to the images on the screen. “The parties are really hard for me.” Charlie looked up again. Harrington still wasn’t looking at him, but he breathed in deliberately, as if he was going to keep talking. “I…” Harrington wound the hem of his shirt around his thumb. “Even when I was little, I didn’t like them. The noise and the closeness…I used to put my hands over my ears and cry.” Slowly, so as not to make any noise that might interrupt his companion’s story, Charlie slid his phone back in his pocket. “My parents were always really good about it,” Harrington continued. “They wanted me to be there, obviously, but they understood that it was hard. It wasn’t just parties, but the events were the worst. They took me to therapy. It never seemed to bother them that I needed a shrink.” “…wonderful work you did for the new psych center…” Charlie recalled Mr. Fawcett’s introductory praise for Marty, which suddenly made a lot more sense. “I want to be good at it,” Harrington sighed. “But the whole gala experience makes me feel awful. My head hurts and my stomach feels weird and I want to claw my skin off. So my parents made me a deal, years ago: I would make an appearance, get dressed up, and then I could sneak off and hide.” By this time, Charlie had turned so that his whole body was facing Harrington. “I don’t-“ Harrington’s voice caught, and he took a breath to compose himself. “Tonight was really bad. They’re not usually this hard, but there were so many people, and they all wanted to talk to me, and Senator Smallwood kept giving me champagne, and his wife kept touching my arm…” Harrington trailed off, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and Charlie felt a deep hatred for this couple he’d never met. “I left as soon as I could,” Harrington went on, his voice wet. “I came down here because the woodwork usually calms me down, doing something with my hands, but-“ He choked up again, and Charlie wanted to tell him that it was OK, he really didn’t need an explanation, but his own voice betrayed him. “There’s no bathroom down here,” Harrington explained, a quirk that Charlie had noticed. “It’s weird, but it’s usually not a problem, because there’s one right at the top of the stairs, but-“ A single tear slid down Harrington’s cheek, a relic of the anxiety and humiliation of the evening. “I couldn’t make myself go back upstairs, and then it got worse, and then I really couldn’t go upstairs, because someone would see me having to pee, and I just…” “It’s okay, man,” Charlie insisted earnestly, finally finding his voice. “No one saw, no one has to know.” Harrington finally looked up, blinking tears out of his shining eyes. “I just…I just wanted to thank you. I wanted you to know that I don’t just…” Harrington hung his head again. “…tonight was really bad,” he finished softly. Sensing that the story was over, Charlie wanted to give the young man a hug. Or deliver him to his mom for a hug. Something. But they were still strangers, and Charlie had heard enough to realize that human touch may not be super comforting to Harrington, so he settled for verbal reassurance. “It’s really fine,” he assured the ashamed young man sitting across from him. “It’s no big deal, and I promise, I won’t tell anyone.” Charlie offered a hesitant smile. “I was coming down here to escape, too. I was super grateful your dad suggested it.” Harrington looked up again, smiling weakly in return. “He’s a good guy,” he said, and Charlie could see how much the young man truly loved his father. “He probably wanted you to check on me.” Charlie shrugged ruefully. In all honestly, he would have done a lot more than what the past half hour had encompassed in order to escape the gala. “I’m glad I could help.” He sat up a bit straighter, realizing a gaping hole in the conversation. “I’m Charlie, by the way. Charlie Docell.” Harrington’s eyes widened at the social oversight. “Oh! I’m-“ “Harrington Fawcett,” Charlie interrupted, grinning. “I figured that much.” Harrington dipped his head slightly and reached for the remote to turn on the TV. “It’s nice to meet you Charlie. It’s nice to have someone to wait out the rest of the party with.” He flipped something in Charlie's direction, and Charlie's hand closed reflexively around a small, wooden figure - the carving Harrington had been working on. It was an owl, covered in intricate feathers, so detailed that Charlie felt guilty just holding it. "Wow," he breathed. "This is awesome, man." Harrington shrugged off the compliment, but smiled nonetheless. He turned on the TV, signaling an end to his introductory confessional. “And you can call me Harry.”

So today I attempted to hold through the whole day at work. I was then told by my boss that I could leave an hour and 30 minutes early. By now my bladder was looking like it would need to emptied before normal finish time anyway. I decided to risk it for the journey home! The risk didn't pay off. In preparation I put my towel from my gym kit on the chair of the car before leaving. Only 10 minutes into the journey I was regretting the descision. My bladder was throbbing like crazy (not helped by the seat belt!) And within another 5 minutes I had started loosing control and spurting leaks every 30 seconds or so! By the time I pulled onto my drive there was a little wet patch on the front of my work trousers and a tiny wet patch on the towel. I dived out the car and ran round the back of the house. To stop my self from ruining my shoes I quickly squatted down with my legs apart and lost all control totally soaking through my boxers and works trouser and creating a puddle on the patio about 3 feet wide! Honestly it felt like absolute heaven! Just finished my shower and had to type this up!

Okay guys, here's my thread :D I know that a lot of people want to see more bulges, myself included, so here's a thread for exactly that. I'll try and upload my own photos once or twice a week, in different outfits and the like :) Also, everyone is welcome, male, female, anyone :) (Even cats, Rini) Rules of this thread; Feel free to post your own bulges; the more the merrier! However, please refrain from uploading photos you've found on the internet. I'm trying to encourage participation from the members on the site, so yeah. Anyway, to start our ball rolling, here's a photo I took a few days ago. Please enjoy my thread! xo Kay

I haven't ever tried writing an interactive story before, but it looks like it could be fun. A lot of good ones have been posted, so I'm going to give it a shot. It's been a while since I have written anything and I don't have a good track record when it comes to finishing stories, but we'll see how this goes. This story is based on a personal fantasy of mine, but I won't say much more about it because more information will be available later on. Anyway, here we go. *** Flowing Creek You wake up in what looks like some sort of a cheap motel room, to the sound of birds chirping outside. You are facing towards the outer wall, so you can see sunlight coming in around the edges of the curtain over the window. You feel the need to relieve your bladder, but it is still bearable for the time being. For a moment, you allow your eyes to wander around the room before lifting your head off the pillow and sitting up. You look down and realize that you are still wearing your t-shirt, jeans, and socks. The lower half of your body is still covered by the blankets, but you can tell what you’re wearing beneath it, from the feeling of the material on your skin. You are unsure of how long you were asleep, but what you are sure of, is that you have never seen this room before. You take a good look at your surroundings. The walls of the motel room are a milky white and the curtain over the window has a grey and black checkerboard pattern on it. About a meter away from the foot of the bed, directly in front of you, there is a stained, oak dresser that is about two meters wide, and there are only two doors in the room. One of them leads to the outside, but the other one, about two meters to the right of the dresser, leads to what could either be a closet or a bathroom. You get an uneasy feeling about the situation. Where am I? You wonder. Since you are all alone, you try to rack your brain, hoping to remember where you are and how you got there. The only thing you can remember, is going on a mid-summer road trip, with a friend that you’ve known for years. The two of you grew up in Ontario, Canada and went to the same college. You recall traveling through a heavily forested area in Manitoba when you were both caught in a sudden, intense rainstorm. The only other thing you remember is seeing a blinding flash of lightning, but everything after that is a total blank. Right beside you to your left, there is a small bedside table. Sitting on top of it, you find a clipboard with a single sheet of paper on it. Taking hold of it, you notice that the paper contains very personal information about you. There is an ID photo of you in the upper, right-hand corner. In the upper, left-hand corner, there is a line that says that your identification number is FC-05202018. Beneath the photo and your assigned number is everything else about you. What does the sheet say? This will be used for character creation. Include as much information as you like and I’ll fill in anything that gets left out. If any artists would like to create the character’s ID photo, then feel free to do so. This will give me an idea of their appearance, without you having to put all of the info in. General Info Name: Gender: Height: Hair style/color: Eye color: Body type: Age: Personal Info Personality: Interests/Hobbies: Fetishes/Kinks: Sexual Orientation: Breast size (if applicable): Butt size: Bladder size: Holding Ability: Extra Things Underwear appearance: Notable features of outer clothing (If applicable): *** There will be more coming after creating a character. After 48 hours, if there is only one suggestion, that will be your character. If there are more, then the one I like the most will be your character while the second best may be used as the identity for your character's traveling companion on the road trip. This time frame can be extended upon request for any ID photos. Constructive criticism is welcome, if you have any. My goal will be to post a new part to this at least once a week, with 48 hours between each post available for making decisions for where the story will take us, so hopefully we'll have some fun on this adventure.

So, uncircumcised guys (I am also one of them). Did anyone else try pinching the skin at the end of their penis shut while peeing? Can anyone actually hold their pee this way? Or has it ever helped you make it to the bathroom by a few seconds? Or has anyone done it to you (your partner, or the person standing next to you at the urinal as a joke, I think that'd be harassment though)? When pinching it between 2 fingers I can last for a few seconds before my grip slips apart. I've also tried crossing my legs over my foreskin while standing/sitting in the shower/bath, it holds for a little longer and then a load comes out. (Sorry if too obscene.)

I made this video a few months ago, but didn't have anyone to share it with until now. I was inspired by a series of Japanese "hidden camera" videos where women stumble into a toilet desperately clutching themselves, but don't quite get their pants down in time. I've been into watersports and wetting (especially desperation wetting) since I was about 12 (I'm 27 now). I've gotten more adventurous in the past few years, doing a few outdoor wettings, but always at night, and not in very public places. I've been going through kind of a dry spell lately though. My dream is to one day find a (female) companion I can share this interest with. It gets boring doing the same things over and over on your own. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the video. Let me know what you guys think! Untitled.flv

After spending the last two days constantly holding it and bursting and posted a lot on the Bulge Diary thread, after the amazing experience of today (day 3), I have decided to start my own thread. I have woken up at around 10am. Last time I peed was also out of pure desperation 6 hours before that, before falling asleep.You can find out more about that here I felt like I needed to pee, but I justed walked past the bathroom and headed directly into the kitchen to get my coffee brewing. I've made myself a big cup of coffee which I filled to the top with milk. I have drank it in about 10 minutes, whilst walking round the house to get ready to leave. I finished my coffee and started drinking from a 0.75L revitalizing drink which I have quickly drank (another 10 minutes) until I finished preparing myself to head off for the day. I had another one full for me to take with me. So far I am at 7 hours since my last pee (no morning pee) and already 750 + 400 coffee, over a L drank + whatever there was already in my bladder. I had to drive about 4 hours to the airport to pick someone up in Budapest and back. As I had to leave the country and be in Roaming so I didn't even have mobile data available, many hours to drive there and also some margin of time ahead just in case anything happens all by myself, I purposely skipped the morning pee and started drinking loads, as a bulging bladder defienetely would make the time way more enjoyable and less booring. With that I mind, I have decided to put on the tightest slim-fit jeans I had. They are so tight and hard to move in that I haven't ever wore them, but they were perfect for making things even more interesting :-) I had to struggle to put the on and close the button, even without a bulging bladder. They really limited my movement a lot and felt very tight and squeezing all the way from my feet to my bladder. The small size made them have the button area happily right on my lower bladder area, puting a huge extra pressure. Planning to go extreme and also willing to assume the risk of anything that can happen, I have made a small bag to carry with me, 2 big towels, spare pants, underwear and T-shirt and just put that on the passanger seat along with liquids of course. Need to keep myself hydrated and have plentyful to make sure I have no reason to stop and leave the car, just enjoy the experience whilst driving. I have also put a purse round my waist and made sure to make if heavy so it would be pushing against my bladder. Took me about 40 minutes to cross the town and get to the highway. From there I was looking at a 3 hour drive. He was landing in 5 hours time, so I had plenty of time ahead of me. At this moment I was 7hrs+ since last burst and had already been drinking 1L+ before leaving the house. I decide to open up the second bottle of revitalising drink (0.75L) and start drinking from it. Drank that and one Hell Energy drink within the next 40 minutes putting the duration at 8 hours and the luqids at 1L+(from before) + 0.75L second revitalising drink + 250ml of energy drink OVER 2 litters. At that moment I started feeling pretty uncomfortable and started feeling the presure, but kept on driving like normal. It was a great sunny day, would have sworen it is a hot summer day if the thermometer in my car would not have shown 11°C :)) Had about 30 minutes left until the boarder and was already starting to feel squirmy as my bladder got more and more bulged and harder. Had to take off the purse as it was becoming too hard to hold. You can see me frantically moving my legs already 20171026_121729.mp4 🚘🚘🚘 The safety belt itself and the very tight pants made it already squirmy enough :-) I have reached the border where of course there was a big line that took 20 minutes to clear as the cops were checking id, which were very intense and hard, given the fact that I needed to control myself alot to look normal and not shake frantically next to the cops :-) After sucesfully passing trough and making it trough this though milestone, I decided to celebrate by openning another can of energy drink :-) Of course it did not take me long to finish that one also, putting myself at 9.5 hours and 2.5L of drinks. I was getting really squirmy and felt the urges slowly starting to come, starting to feel the strugle of stopping myself from leaking. My bladder was rock solid screaming for pee, and I was still punishing it with my tight pants and seatbelt. Got to the point when I had to hold myself when an urge hit so I did not leak. The bulge is very visible right now and the pressure becomes almost impossible to control. 20171026_115850.mp4 After skipping the first two parking spaces on the highway for the reason there were only toilets (which I was not needing) and no gas stations or stores where I could have bought more liquids, I pull up in the third one, a Shell gas station. Manage to find a spot where it was not that crowded so I could try to control myself down and be able to walk normally and keep on holding at the same time. I get out of the car and start walking the maybe 20 meters to the entry. I tried to act as cool and casual as I could but I am sure it did not quite work out. I was thinking in the mean time to go in quickly, grab a bottle of water, pay and head straight back to the car. After getting in the gas station, I have noticed a big line at the cash register. I started to feel like the pee was already there at the edge, ready to spurt out. The very tight pants constantly pressing my bladder with every step did their job right - lol :) I realised that the situation was so desperate that there was no way for me to walk back to the car, even without shopping without starting to pee in the process, so I head straight to the bathroom. There was only one bathroom and of course it was occupied. This was the first time in my life I was literally fighting not to wet myself in a public place. I've been squriming and fidgeting like crazy as I waited a few good minutes until the bathroom got free. A few seconds before the dor oppened I have felt a so intense urge that despite my best efforts I released a few drops in my underwear, but which I managed to cut off without making it visible on my jeans. I go straight in, lock the door and struggeled a lot to hold it in for a few more seconds so I can take a shot of my huge bladder and also record it. I quickly pulled down my pants and released a huge flow which took more than a minute. It felt amazingly good as I could feel all that pressure slowly fadding away. Here is the video of that After being done, I got out of the bathroom straight to the fridge, grabbed a 1.75L cola bottle and headed straght to the cashier to buy a large coffe to-go as well and pay. My pants were dry, but I could feel the wet spot on my panties as I was walking and it really turned me on :-) I get those and walk back to the car. Before leaving I take out the towels and place them on my seat, challanging me not to leave the car until I arrive at the airport NO MATTER what. There were 3 hours left until the scheduled landing and I knew things could get very unpredictable given on how much I have drank and been planning to drink on. I want to make sure I am safe and I can't give myself an excuse to leave the car. I kept on driving. Drank the ~300ml latte in about 10 minutes and than oppened the cola bottle. Been taking a mouthfull of it every few minutes :-) At this point I've got informed that the flight took of with more than 1 hour of delay, which made me even happier as I had more time alone to enjoy my Omorashi :-) Within the next hour I drank more than 2/3 of the Cola bottle which added 1L+ extra to the challenge, I still had plenty of fluid from earlyer as well still in me that starting rushing trough my bladder after the burst that I had before. I started to feel squirmy and a very hard and bulged bladder not long after that, which I decided to torture till the extreme because of the pee that it forced out of my body earlier. You can see a video of that here It does not take long for the pressure urges to hit forcing me to hold myself more and more often while frantically shaking my legs. I get tremors even now as I am rememorating the feeling. The situation got very real when I started to feel like the urges are getting more and more frequent and harder to control and I had nowhere to pull over, but had to drive with the traffic. I must admit it was one of my greatest bursting experiences so far. Was trying to hold back every leak, it was a really slow and painfull soaking. Loved it and felt soooo relieved afterwards. The feeling of the warm pee I was sitting was amazing as it was slowly flowing everywhere. I will not say anything more, but will let this amazing 18 minutes video speak for itself. THIS IS THE VIDEO and THE EXPERIENCE I am the PROUDEST OF:) I have continued driving like nothing happened. Great feeling :) After staying in them and on the towels, without leaving the car for about, 1 hour, I pulled over and changed whilst dispozing the soaked clothes and towels in the trunk because I had to get to the airport to pick him up. Everything was soaking wet except for the seat, which I was a bit surprised of, but that means I've found my trustworthy towels. Even having the seat wet would not have bothered me to much as it is leather, easy to clean. The most extreme and amazing experience I had ever. After this I stopped my maniac drinking, as I knew for sure I will be desperate pretty soon again no matter what due to all the previouws drinks and I had to pick him up, so any holds from this point on will need to be secret and more discrete. I pick him up and we start our journey back. After about 40km we pull over at a restaurant to eat a Goulas. Of course a meal with lots of liquid :-) I was quite desperate as we got there and really struggeled to go trough my meal and also keep a strong composure, hiding my Omo Joy. Before leaving I go to the bathroom, at point at which I was already struggling not to leak. Here is my bladder Was with my pants unbutonned struggling to hold on for more and more seconds until I exploded yet again with a big steam. Here you can see that That pee had taken place 7 hours ago. Since that time I've gotten back home, drank some wine and started writing this article. I have not peed since and I'm more and more desperate as I finish writing this article. Sorry for any typos, took me 3 hours to write and upload everything using my phone and a bladder that is becoming more and more desperate. I also don't consider myself as being a writer, but please give me some feedback for this insanely amazing day. Happy hodling :-) cheers 20171026_154516.mp4

Found this and love it! Also this is a wonderful Tumblr for male wettings: http://fluffy-omorashi.tumblr.com/ I think it's one of our members 😉

I'm a single black guy that's into peeing n wetting, Any Girls on here that likes African American wetting?💦😌

Was holding my pee for hours, Stayed in bed until I had the urge to release.

I had an interesting and humorous sighting a couple weekends ago. (My extended family seems to have a lot of bladder issues. I know at least half my cousins did or still do wet their beds. A few have an occasional day wetting accident. We are pretty open about it and nobody is too embarrassed. I think a couple of them enjoy it like I do. Sometimes the occasional tickle fights end with a sudden run for dry pants.) I was at my uncle’s riding ATVs with his family. It was he and I and his three teenage sons. It was Saturday morning and we had stopped by the side of the trail for a break after riding a couple hours. Usually this is an opportunity for some bottled water and a pee. The middle son, Jason, was squirming around a little. He’s the one that always kids his brothers that they have small bladders and always have to pee. He usually does seem to be able to hold it pretty well. It looked to me like he had to pee really badly but didn’t want to be the first to go. I wasn’t too surprised, he had two big glasses of milk and one of orange juice with breakfast. He got out his bottle of water and took a sip while his older brother went into the woods to pee. As his brother came back Jason casually took his turn in the woods. He turned his back and unzipped to start peeing. Just then we heard some more ATVs coming down the trail. Jason looked back in panic and frantically zipped up and came out of the woods. It was a guy and a girl on two ATVs. She smiled, pointed at him and gave Jason a thumbs up as she passed him. Then I saw why. Evidently Jason had started to pee just as we heard them coming. He zipped up but evidently he had to pee so badly that he couldn’t quite stop the flow. He didn’t seem to notice that he was still peeing until she pointed. He looked down and turned bright red as his faded skinny jeans turned dark in the crotch and the wet stain spread down his legs. He quickly unzipped and finished peeing on the grass. Finally he finished and sheepishly walked back to us. We were all laughing hysterically. Jason was soaked, his jeans were wet to his ankle on one leg and the knee on the other. His crotch and fly with it’s nice bulge were wet to his belt. The tight wet jeans made it obvious that he was wearing briefs or bikinis rather than boxers! When he he turned around I could see the wetness had even spread up the back to his jeans pockets. As the laughter died down Jason’s younger brother walked quickly to the woods and peed. As he turned to walk back I saw him looking down and then he tugged his shirt down over his fly. Just before he got it covered I noticed he had a small wet spot on one side of his fly. I think he laughed so hard he leaked a little. His shirt covered it so I didn’t say anything. Both Jason’s brothers started teasing him about who had the strongest bladder now. Their dad let them get a few digs in and then told them to let Jason alone, he was embarrassed enough. I wonder what the girl on the ATV thought about what she saw. If she was in to Omorashi I think it probably made her day! Jason asked what he should do about his wet jeans. It was two hours back to the cabin and nobody had any spare clothes. I reminded him about the time he got splashed really bad while riding. It only took about and hour before the wind had dried his shirt and jeans as he rode. He brightened up a little and said he hoped we wouldn’t meet too many other riders before he was dry. He even said we might as well continue the ride we had originally planned. The rest of us peed, had some water and we all continued on. It was funny watching Jason ride. He would spread his legs out to catch the wind on his legs for a while. Then he would stand on the running boards for a while to get some air on his crotch and seat. It seemed to work, at our next rest stop about an hour later his legs were dry. His crotch and fly still damp enough to show that he’d wet himself. He joked that he’d be dry enough that we could even stop for lunch like we planned. His older brother even told him he might have lucked out; he didn’t even smell like he pissed his pants. The restaurant stop was an hour later. We pulled in to the parking lot to see if Jason wanted to try going in. He asked me to check his jeans to see if they looked dry enough. He was mostly dry, only his fly was damp and his shirt hid it well enough. That was a first for me. A kid asking me to check his peed jeans to see if the wetness still showed! I had to give him credit; I don’t think I’d have been brave enough at his age to wear jeans I’d peed in into a restaurant! His older brother noticed they had an outdoor patio and suggested we sit out there. During lunch Jason seemed to have a hand on his crotch a lot. From some similar wet occasions I knew he had to be itching down there and was probably scratching it. I also realized that he hadn’t peed since he wet his jeans, the rest of us had all used the restaurant’s bathroom. I wondered if he really didn’t need to pee or if he was too embarrassed to go in there with his pissed in jeans. I bet his underwear was still kind of damp. The wet pants accident didn’t seem to slow his capacity to drink. He finished two large sodas with lunch. We hit the trail again and headed toward the cabin. At the first stop we all peed in the woods again. I was watching Jason because I couldn’t believe he wasn’t desperate to pee. He sure didn’t act like he needed to pee. I was thinking that maybe he really did have iron control. Then I noticed him coming out of the woods. His shirt was still up showing his zipper and crotch. It was obviously freshly wet. He pulled it down as he walked back so no one else saw it. When he climbed back on his ATV I saw that the back of his jeans were equally wet. It looked like he’d peed while sitting on the seat. Was he so stubborn about not peeing when everyone else did that he wet again? Or did he like the feeling and had deliberately wet his jeans again figuring nobody would notice the new wetness? When we ended the ride at the cabin I was still curious about Jason. I watched as he got off his ATV. From the back his jeans still looked really wet. Then I got a look at his front. The bottom of his shirt was damp around his crotch and his jeans were wet a couple inches down the inseams. He was still leaking or had deliberately wet himself again. He quickly held his helmet in front as he said he was going to go take a shower. His younger brother had noticed me watching and grinned at me and said “He did it again on purpose, didn’t he!”

Finally the long delayed sequel to The Library begins. The Library can also be read as a traditional narrative. I'll aim for weekly updates over the next three months. Thanks for reading! You glance at the clock flickering in the middle of your peeling dashboard as you pull up in front of 12 King St; 6:37. Fuck. You were meant to meet Shauna at her house seven minutes ago. Like most teachers she's got a real thing about punctuality. Turning up late is not the best way to start a date but your day has been hectic and you barely had time to make yourself look presentable. You are just going to an old movie at the independent cinema near Shauna's place so you didn't overdress, just a minimally creased red and black checked button-up shirt, a pair of black slacks, dress shoes. You had a very quick shave with your electric razor and brushed your teeth for a good thirty seconds. It isn't until you are driving over that you even notice you forget your traditional preemptive pee. It's fine, you can just go at the cinema. It wouldn't do to wet yourself it front of Shauna! Again. You still can't believe she asked you out after the embarrassing incident in the library. She answers the door less than ten seconds after you ring the doorbell. She already has her handbag over her shoulder and is clearly ready to go. You knew she would be. "Hey you." She smiles, "I was beginning to think you were standing me up!" She's says it as a joke but it's also clearly a comment on your continued lack of punctuality. You casually apologize and explain how crazy your day was during the walk back down her garden path. The conversation flows naturally and without pause the whole twenty minute walk to the cinema. When you arrive there is a bit of a queue to buy tickets. There is only one little old lady behind the desk and she seems a bit overwhelmed by the number of people who have turned out today. "Who knew Aliens was so popular, right?" You say. "Well it was the greatest movie of 1986." Shauna kids. "Not Pretty in Pink?" You say picking the second best John Hughes screenplay of that year. "Pretty in Pink!" Shauna is outraged and begins to explain the "problems" with Pretty in Pink. The line crawls. Your bladder is nagging you. You definitely should go before the movie. Would it be unacceptably rude to ask Shauna to get the tickets while you go pee? Will she think you are trying to get out of paying? Should you give her money? Ugh. No. That isn't an option. To go to the restroom now turn to page 24 To wait until after you have bought the tickets turn to page 9

It was marching band practice. It was November and cold. I really really had to go. We were practicing for a contest the next Saturday. We just couldn't get our routine right. We'd play it right, but mess up marching; or, we'd march perfectly and screw up our playing. The director would not let us go. It was late afternoon -- three o'clock, four o'clock, fine o'clock -- and we were still at it. I was absolutely hurting. I was past worrying about teetering my pants; now I was worried about injuring my bladder or kidneys. Thankfully, it was dark by then and the field light back then weren't that bright. So I decided to just let go. Funny thing, it was nearly impossible to start in my pants. I guess potty training had made its mark. Finally, I gave up and just kept marching. That's when I teeteed. Instantly my crotch and inner thighs grew warm. I couldn't believe it: It actually felt good. It ran down my legs and filled my shoes and just kept coming. The relief was ecstatic. Then I realized that my uniform pants were steaming in the cold air, and people were snickering and pointing. My face burned with embarrassment. We marched another half hour. My crotch and legs were absolutely red raw. Funny thing is, despite the embarrassment, I liked it; then next week I did it again, though with more control, and a little at a time. I probably teeteed that band uniform a dozen times that year. Thankfully the pants were black polyester.

Finally had a chance to break-in this ensemble I bought awhile ago. I felt that I could've held a bit more and become even more desperate, but I was actually running an errand--I didn't want to thoroughly embarrass myself then so I decided to relieve myself earlier than expected. Anyway, enjoy! cyc31.wmv

OK, I promised that my next story would involve male-male comfort, but I lied. I'm sorry 😕 This was a request from granger Danger, so I thought I'd throw something together. I do have other ideas though, so I hope to get something else out before summer ends! *** Chase Richards flipped his head back, running his fingers through his thick, russet hair. It wasn’t so much a calculated move as a habit he’d developed after learning that his friends (peers? Cronies?) seemed to interpret the gesture in whatever way they thought best. It kept him from having to say too much. Chase wasn’t very good with words. Luckily for Chase, he didn’t often need words. He had the height, build, and looks that gave him a golden ticket to the good graces of others. Most teachers - and certainly most of his classmates – never pressed him on much of anything. Not schoolwork, not his behavior, and not whether he really deserved the level of popularity he enjoyed as a senior in high school. Chase didn’t think about his unearned popularity too much. At 18, he had a set of mannerisms that served him well – introspection wasn’t required. So when emotions or challenges presented themselves, he didn’t have a whole lot of practice reacting. And Chase’s reactions tended towards nastiness. It wasn’t that he was mean. He certainly didn’t intend to be mean. It was more that he’d never really gotten the hang of social humor or teasing, so when he tried to joke, it came out jerk. He didn’t mean it. He just…didn’t know what else to do. Like today. Chase really didn’t know what had gone wrong. Well, he did know, if he bothered to think about it. It was actually fairly straightforward, and it started and ended with Courtney Montell. Courtney was a junior – only a junior, Chase tried to remind himself – but she was captivating. She was confident and articulate, and Chase was entranced. Courtney was the student council treasurer, and with Homecoming approaching, she’d been spending a lot of time working with the senior class members of the council, including Chase’s friend Marco. Chase hadn’t thought twice about Marco. He was the student council president, so it was natural that Courtney would be around him a lot. He hadn’t thought about it much, but Chase had implicitly assumed that Courtney’s relationship with Marco was all business. Besides, Chase wasn’t one to consider the possibility that another guy could be with a girl he himself had already mentally claimed. So really, it was just that Chase had been caught off guard after lunch when he’d turned a corner in the hallway and seen Courtney kissing Marco. Chase’s jaw slackened and his head felt fuzzy, seeing the girl he liked making out with one of his best friends. Before Chase had time to process anything, Marco had broken off the kiss and turned down another hallway, winking at Courtney as he left. Courtney spun around, grinning to herself, and came face to face with a stunned Chase (who, it turned out, had been standing much closer to the couple than he’d realized). Courtney blinked once before composing herself. “Can I help you?” “If you’re gonna be kissing guys in hallways, I’ll take one.” Chase could feel the sneer creep onto his face but had no control over the curl of his lip. Courtney didn’t even bother to roll her eyes, further irritating Chase with her lack of response. She took a step forward, but he rammed his hand against the wall in front of her, blocking her with his arm. Still, Courtney didn’t flinch, though her heart rate sped up. No matter how much she believed that Chase was all bluster, being physically blocked by a 6’3”, 225-pound man was never going to be a comfortable situation. “Move, Chase.” Chase’s stomach fluttered. He knew the situation wasn’t going well, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Why? You weren’t in any hurry a minute ago,” he said, his voice dangerously approaching a growl. “That’s how time works, asshole,” Courtney snapped. Her eyes glittered with challenge, but she was trying to keep her voice from shaking. Chase barely heard her. He wanted Courtney, and somehow, in his socially underdeveloped mind, he was convinced that he could still have her, if she would just… “Come on, Court,” he rumbled, circling his other arm around her until she was backed up against the wall. “There’s no one here-“ “Stop!” Courtney shrieked, slapping Chase squarely across the cheek. “Mr. Richards! Miss Montell!” Mrs. Harker, the physics teacher, strode down from the other end of the hallway. “Back away from each other now!” she ordered. Chase took two giant steps backwards, his arms dropping limply by his sides. His cheek stung, but he barely felt it through the utter daze of the past minute. Courtney was fuming. “Mrs. Harker, he-“ “Detention for both of you,” Mrs. Harker interrupted sharply. “We have zero tolerance for physical violence at this school.” Courtney opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs. Harker cut her off. “I’m sorry, Miss Montell,” she said, more gently. “Detention is the consequence for violence, no matter what the context.” Mrs. Harker turned back to look at Chase. “3:15, both of you. Mr. Green will be supervising detention this afternoon in room 113. No excuses.” Glaring once more at Chase, Courtney strode away. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch period, and the hallway filled with students, none of whom had the slightest idea what had just happened. Which more or less covers all of the important events that led to the current situation – Chase Richards, instead of taking out his car keys to drive home, was sullenly dawdling in front of his locker, unconsciously delaying having to face Courtney again in detention. “Chase Richards!” Mr. Green, the new freshman English teacher and today’s detention supervisor, was the kind of first-year teacher who chose to be overly strict to counteract his youth and assert his authority over the students. “Room 113, now!” Chase pulled his backpack from his locker and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna-“ Mr. Green cut him off with a glare. “No, you’re not ‘just gonna’,” he said derisively. “You have detention, and you are subject to the same rules as everyone else.” The teacher glared at Chase, not quite achieving the level of command that he wanted. “No matter what most of the other teachers here might thing,” he added sharply. Chase’s eyebrows knit in bemusement. He knew Green was a hardass, but it was just detention, and it wasn’t like Chase was trying to get out of it – he just wanted to go to the bathroom. Chase always went to the bathroom right after school, before going out to his car. It was just another one of his habits. It wasn’t that he had to go really bad or anything, but being denied the access made him realize just how full his bladder was. All of these thoughts proceeded rather slowly through Chase’s head, and by the time it occurred to him to ask Mr. Green to use the restroom real quick, the teacher had already started walking down the hallway to the dedicated detention room. Chase took long strides to catch up, but by the time he did, Mr. Green had reached the door of Room 113. Chase followed him in and opened his mouth to ask for a quick trip to the bathroom but stopped short when he saw Courtney sitting in the desk closest to the door. Chase’s mouth snapped shut and his request died in his throat. He’d already screwed up with Courtney once today; he couldn’t bear to ask to us the restroom in front of her. Flustered and still full, Chase put his head down and slunk to the back of the room, taking the sat in the corner farthest from the door – and farthest from Courtney. The digital clocked flipped to 3:15 – apparently, no other students had been given detention that day. “No phones, no electronics,” ordered Mr. Green by way of a greeting. “You will be released at 4:15, not one second earlier. You don’t have to do homework if you don’t want to, but you may not talk.” Chase shifted in his seat. He’d never been given detention before. He supposed the rules made sense, but he really wasn’t sure he could wait for an hour, especially without his phone to distract him. Still, he managed for the first fifteen minutes. Sitting in the back of the room definitely helped – he didn’t have to worry about Courtney looking at him, and he could squirm a little to try to keep his bladder comfortable without having to worry about being seen. At 3:30, though, Chase heard the buzzing of a phone. To his surprise, Mr. Green picked up his phone off the desk and glanced at the screen. “Stay here,” Mr. Green ordered needlessly. He’d apparently determined that the call was worth taking and stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The instant the door clicked shut, Courtney whirled around, glaring at Chase. He twitched under the intensity of her gaze; he had only been looking in that direction because of Mr. Green, but now it looked like he’d been staring at Courtney. She didn’t seem to care about Chase looking at her, though. “This is your fault,” she hissed, keeping her voice quiet but bitter. Chase’s face went blank. He knew that his interaction with Courtney hadn’t gone well, but she seemed…really mad. “You’re disgusting,” Courtney continued, her voice venomous. “You think you can just take whatever you want and never have any consequences.” Chase tensed reflexively. People just didn’t yell at him like that… “It was a joke,” he insisted dumbly, his attempt at levity coming out decidedly petulant. Courtney scoffed. “No woman in the world thinks that shit is funny.” Chase got a funny feeling in his stomach, beyond the fullness of his bladder. It was weird hearing a high school student refer to herself as a woman, but as soon as she said it, it made sense. She was a woman, and Chase felt like a little kid in front of her. A little kid who had to pee. Courtney seemed to sense his quailing. “Are we still in kindergarten, Chase?” she mocked. “You don’t know how to act around girls that you like, so you’re mean to them to get their attention?” Chase flushed red so quickly, his face was like a buzzer on a game show, lighting up to signal Courtney’s correct answer. She felt her own skin warm in response – confronting unreciprocated affection was never enjoyable. “Honestly, Chase –“ She was no longer snapping, but her voice still wasn’t friendly. “- it’s the 21st century. You don’t get to treat people – women - like shit and expect them to just be OK with it.” Chase was keeping his head very deliberately down at this point, both in embarrassment and because he was trying to curl over the desk. He felt so full, he was having a hard time keeping himself from squirming. As much as he didn’t want to have this conversation with Courtney (it was more of a monologue than a conversation, anyway), he really didn’t want her looking at him when he had to pee. Not one to skillfully manage unpleasant emotions, Chase reflexively settled into anger. “I don’t,” he grumbled. Courtney’s eyebrows drew together, projecting more incredulity than she actually felt. “You can’t possibly have so little self-awareness,” she derided. “You really do have the social skills of a five-year-old.” Blushing even more deeply, Chase scowled down at the desk. Being called a child twice in quick succession made his plight all the more painful. He flicked his eyes up at the clock and almost whined. There were still 40 minutes left in detention, and the combination of his full bladder and Courtney’s accusations made that 4-minute barrier seem impossibly long. The sound of the door opening made Chase look up. “No talking,” snapped Mr. Green before ducking back out into the hallway, phone still at his ear. Courtney had turned forward as soon as the door opened, but she threw another glare back at Chase before returning to her homework. Chase nearly sighed in relief. The deliberate lack of squirming over the past few minutes had heightened his need, and he had to thrust a hand between his legs to ease the desperation. He writhed and gripped for a few seconds to make himself feel better. A quick glance up at Courtney showed that she was diligently bent over her homework, paying him no mind. Exhaling slowly, Chase released he hand. The immediacy of the last surge had abated, but his heart was still beating hard. For a second, he thought of getting up and going to the bathroom, but that idea didn’t last long. For one, Mr. Green would almost certainly yell at him as soon as he stepped in the hallway. And he didn’t want to give Courtney another reason to scorn him. He’d just have to wait it out. Just over a half hour now, and as long as Courtney wasn’t looking at him, he could shift and wriggle freely. For the next 15 minutes or so, Chase did just that. He even crossed his long legs, which he hated doing, but the relief was too good to pass up. Unfortunately, even that tactic didn’t help for long. Chase’s body had been well trained to use the bathroom after school and being made to wait an hour to release and entire day’s worth of urine wasn’t something he was prepared for. Forced to physically hold himself again, Chase’s breathing became shallow. Unconsciously, he started shifting arrhythmically, twitching back and forth and kneading his dick between his legs. “Shh!” A sharp hiss from Courtney caught Chase off guard, and he felt a hot spurt of pee soak into his underwear. He looked up anxiously just in time to see Courtney turning back to her homework, a disgusted look on her face. Chase bit his lip to keep from whining audibly. He was clutching himself to the point of pain, but the dampness against his skin was breaking down his already-weak defenses. He remained curled over the desktop, tensing seemingly every single muscle in his body, trying to keep himself from having an accident through brute force. He couldn’t move to look at the clock, which was probably a good thing, because the clock would’ve told him that there were still 10 minutes left. And Chase didn’t have 10 minutes. Chase didn’t have 10 seconds. A painful surge rippled through Chase’s lower body, and a strong stream burst out of him, soaking right through his boxers and into his jeans. Chase grunted unwillingly, but his muscles were worn out and ill-prepared for such consistent tensing. Futilely, Chase kept his hand between his legs, but it was all over. He was wetting himself. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously, and Chase, if he’d been able to think or feel at all, would’ve felt like he was in a dream. The sensation of peeing into his jeans, while sitting at a desk, in a classroom, was so utterly foreign that the entire situation felt surreal to the point of unbelievability. Chase’s chest heaved with uneven breaths. Piss pooled briefly on the desk seat under him before spilling onto the floor. In the front of the classroom, Courtney was distracted by the unfamiliar sound. She whipped around to demand silence from Chase once again, but her face quickly melted from irritation into disbelief. Courtney was a smart girl, but it took her several seconds to puzzle together the scene in front of her. The sound she heard was the trickling of liquid from the seat of the desk onto the tile floor. Chase’s large body was hunched over the small desk; his shoulders rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths. A puddle was growing still growing across the floor underneath him. There was only one explanation for what she was seeing, but Courtney’s mind refused to accept the obvious. There was no way a senior in high school could be having an accident at school. Chase still didn’t look up. For once, he was completely unaware of Courtney, even as she cautiously stood and walked toward the back of the room. “Chase?” Chase jerked slightly, indicating that he heard her, but he kept his head forcefully down, as if he was trying to bore a hole into his sternum with his chin. Torn between pity and skepticism, Courtney lowered herself into the desk diagonally in front of Chase. She looked down to make her she wasn’t stepping in his puddle – it was big, but not quite spread in her direction. She looked back up at the cowering 18-year-old. The tension had melted out of his body, signaling that his accident was finished, but now, he was slumped so severely in his desk, Courtney wondered how he stayed in the desk at all. “Chase…” she repeated, not really knowing what she was trying to make happen. Awkward with words under the best of circumstances, Chase was rendered completely mute. His face remained down, and a single tear dripped off his cheek onto the desk. His throat strained with the effort of holding back actual sobs. They stayed in silence for a few minutes, Courtney unwilling to speak and Chase unable. The sound of the door opening shocked Courtney into turning around. Mr. Green was still on the phone, but he distractedly waved into the room. “You can go.” Courtney attempted a weak smile, but Mr. Green had already left, having not seen or not cared what had happened in the back of the classroom. Exhaling deeply, Courtney looked back at Chase, but he hadn’t moved. She straightened her shoulders. “Come on, Chase.” No response. “Mr. Green is gone. No one will see you.” Nothing. Courtney pressed her lips together. “Chase, come on. You can’t stay here forever.” Chase shifted uncomfortably, but still didn’t look up. God, thought Courtney. He really was a child, and she didn’t have a whole lot of patience for man-children. “What’s your plan, then? Just gonna stay here until morning? Or until the janitor gets here to clean up after you?” The last comment was a bit harsh, but Courtney wasn’t here to mother the boy who’d put her in detention in the first place. Instead of getting defensive, though, Chase raised his head slowly. His eyes were glazed with tears, and his face was completely guileless. Having an accident as a senior in high school was an objectively vulnerable situation to begin with, but Chase’s face underscored just how exposed he was. Sighing, Courtney dropped her shoulders. Yes, Chase was a child – he was self-centered and lacked self-awareness – but he was also clueless and seemingly unable to take care of himself in tough situations. Courtney mentally cursed all of the adults who had let Chase reach the age of 18 with so few life skills. She made a quick series of mental decisions. Chase had already dropped his gaze again, nervous and ashamed. “Get up, Chase,” Courtney ordered. “Grab your backpack. We’re leaving.” Chase looked up again, blinking in confusion. “You can’t stay here, and I don’t want to,” Courtney explained (even though this wasn’t really something that should require an explanation) “Get your keys, go home, and change.” Chase shuddered. Courtney’s words had drawn him back to reality, just enough to remind him that he was, in fact, 18 years old, and couldn’t just sit and wait for someone to take care of him like an infant. Even though he’d just peed his pants like one. He still couldn’t bear to look at Courtney for very long, but Chase slowly unfolded himself out of the desk. His jeans hung heavy between his legs, and he paused for a second, staring reluctantly at the puddle beneath the desk. “The janitor will clean it up,” Courtney promised, her voice softer than it had been all afternoon. “No one will know it was you.” In the great crush of emotions from the past hour, Chase had now settled on being disgusted with himself. He scowled as he grabbed his backpack, still keeping his gaze averted from Courtney as he trudged to the front of the room. Courtney, supposing that movement was better than nothing, followed. At the door, Chase stuck his head out in the hallway, checking to make sure no one was around to see the obvious evidence of his accident. Seeing that the coast was clear, he took a deep breath and prepared to head out to his car. Before he took a step, he hesitated. “Thank you,” he mumbled back over his shoulder, his voice gruff and strained. He didn’t wait for Courtney’s response. He couldn’t stand her revulsion or her pity, though he knew he deserved both. Later tonight, perhaps, he’d have time to actually think about the terrible events of the day – the hallway, detention, and actually peeing on himself in front of the girl he liked - and the truth behind Courtney’s chastisement. But for now, he just had to get home and take a shower.

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Normally when I'm in the mood to wet (or mess,) I simply get into what I want to do either in and do it. Sometimes I plan in advance when I want to do it, but most often it's spur of the moment. Today, for some reason, I wanted to do a hold, despite the fact that I wasn't going to be alone for much of the day. Outside of my normal wake-up pee, I haven't visited the toilet at all while still drinking my normal amount. It's a much different experience, so far, let me tell you, as I never really do holds. I've felt the urge to pee for a couple hours now, and I'm still going on. I know I want this to end in a wetting, but I still have a few hours before I'm alone, so I'm going to have to hold on a bit longer. While still drinking normally, I wonder just how big this urge is gonna get. I've even started to feel the need to poo, so I wonder if I'm gonna mess when I finally give in to the urges. Anyhoo, that's what I've been up to today. Should I let loose when I finally get alone or should I hold on past that? What do you all think?

How many people have fantasized or have personally experienced being desperate when enjoying the great outdoors? I have always dreamed of spending a trip/vacation with someone hiking or camping while being completely and utterly desperate with one another. It is a dream that one day I will hopefully makea reality...but in the meantime what are some of your experiences? Was it planned? Were you by yourself or with multiple people? How did you get desperate in the first place? I would love to hear from both men and women so feel free to leave your responses below 🙂

Ok so I just got home from a beach party and it was amazing I had so much fun. But tonight was filled with lots desperate moments. Now I was wearing a beach pants and a white shirt cause I mean it’s the beach what else I’m i going to wear so I went to the party with a few friends and they where driving as soon as we got there I was offered a drink well of course I took and and for the rest of the night I was steady drinking beers. Well after a little while I felt a small urge to pee but I didn’t bother but it soon after tho it was getting bad and and all the public bathrooms where already closed ( you think when they decided to have a party they would at least open the bathroom) so I decided to make a walk down the beach I watched the near by park and thought to find somewhere inside there to pee but I continue walking down the beach there where so many people and I didn’t really wanna pee in public like that so I keep walking. But the more I walked the more I saw people and then I leaked I paniced and started walking faster I saw this point behind some rocks where there wasn’t any people so I decided to go there but then I leaked again and again till I stared to completely pee myself. Omg I’m actually peeing myself in public I just stood there in complete shock luckily no one noticed and my pants where already went from party in the water. Well after 10 minutes I went back to the party. After being in the middle of the dance for like and hour I felt a urge again but I ignore it again but a little while after I couldn’t put it off any more. I went back to make the same walk as before but before I could even half way I leaked. Then I decided to do it in the park as soon as I entered the park the urge became really bad like I was constantly leaking in my pants I saw this building and send fuck it I’m not going to pee myself twice in one night so I ran behind the building pulled it out and peed for at least 2 solid minutes. The relef was so good and I went back to the party at this point I thought I was done being desperate for the night but I was sadly wrong. The party had jus finished and me and my friends was heading home. A couple minutes after entering the car I felt a small urge again I thought it’s only a 15 minute drive I could make it but there was some traffic and it took us 15 mins just to get out of it. After that it was smoth salings from there. Since I live the closest I was dropped home first as I came out the car told my friends bye and went inside with my hand between my legs. I ran inside and straight to the toilet almost didn’t make it as I was leaking the whole time well that’s my experience hope u enjoy

You glance at the clock flickering in the middle of your peeling dashboard as you pull up in front of the school; 8:37. Fuck. You were meant to meet Shauna in the library seven minutes ago. Like most teachers she's got a real thing about punctuality and you only volunteered to wear the Reading Rabbit outfit to impress her in the first place. Shauna is the best thing about this school; sweet, kind, genuinely helpful, and as sexy as hell. You jumped at the chance to spend time with her out of school. Well, sort of out of school. The book fair is still on school property technically. But it's a Saturday and no one is getting paid. You really need to buy an actual alarm clock. You are a very deep sleeper and your phone just isn't loud enough to reliably wake you up. You file it on your mental list of thing you should get around to one day but probably never will. You woke up 42 minutes later than you had intended. There was no time for a shower or a shave, not even time for a real breakfast. You just threw on the first clothes you could find in your closet; cotton boxers, black shoes and socks, blue jeans, check shirt, and ran for the car. You drank a breakfast milkshake in a box while driving at ten miles over the speed limit. The front door to the school has been unlocked and propped open, Shauna's probably been here for hours setting up. You know where the library is already, you've been on placement at Starkwater for four weeks, but handwritten signs would have reminded you anyway. As you power walk down the South corridor toward the library the staff restrooms are to your right. You hadn't noticed earlier in your panicky rush but you actually need a pee quite a lot. Thinking back you are pretty sure you didn't use the bathroom before you tore out of the house this morning. If you go now though you'll be even later meeting Shauna, which is certainly not going to help your chances with her. And you can surely just have a pee after you pick up the rabbit costume. On the other hand walking by a restroom when you need to go is never advisable, especially with your history, you wouldn't want to make a decision you end up regretting. To use the restroom now turn to page 24 To go the the library first turn to page 9

I completely forgot I had a Omorashi account, so here is my thisvid for people that are interested. If you want me to make a story out of my videos, let me know!! Plz.

Welcome to the new interactive story by your boyo, Tempo!… I may or may not need to work on that little ditty. So apparently @Faust has been doing this Magic: The Gathering interactive story, and through reading it and so on, it seems to have inspired me to do something card-based as well. So, what better than Yu-Gi-Oh for something like that? Just to let you all know, I know the rules of the game fairly well. Because of such, I will try to incorporate as much as necessary into this story. But I will also try to keep things simple to the non-players as best as I can. In addition, being as this is going to be an OmoOrg story, there will indeed be elements that tailor to… well, need I say more? But before we get to that, it's time to make the main character. Main Character Creation: {Step 1} Gender: (Are you a Boy or Girl?) Height: (Are you Short, Average, or Tall?) Weight [this pertains to physical weight]: (Are you Light, Average, or Heavy?) Hairstyle: (Are you Short, Average, Long, or is it *Styled?) Muscle Physique: (Are you Skinny/Slim, Normal, or Toned?) *If Styled is chosen, I will throw in a list of options to chose from in Step 2. So go ahead and start picking which details interest you. Also, the reason for dividing this into multiple parts is that I figured it would be easier to start with the basics, being as I'm offering a choice between male and female for this character. Other than that, I hope you guys are interested to give this a shot because I certainly am.