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Hey everyone, here's my first attempt at writing anything in years. From the perspective of a crafty ultrasound tech (non-con). "Alright, hop off now. You're all done" I told my patient. She carefully slid off the table before taking quick, ginger steps outside my office and toward the bathroom. I went into the waiting room to see my last patient of the day. He was freckle faced cutie in his mid-twenties with curly locks. His name was Parker, and I saw him for a pelvic ultrasound a couple weeks ago. Last time the poor thing practically tripped over his jeans as he ran out of my office, leaking and spurting. Parker was doubled over, tensing his thighs and breathing laboriously. It was 5:15 and he had been scheduled for 4:30. "Hey Parker, come on in." The young man stood up slowly and followed me with an awkward gait. "Hop up on the table. I'm sorry for the wait, I scheduled you for the end of the day to give you a little more privacy" I half-lied. He blushed and darted his eyes to the ground. I locked my office door behind us and he didn't seem to notice. The privacy was perfect, but it was only part of my plan. He wasn't getting off easy this time. I gave him a little step stool to get up on the table, and told him to lie down. "Alright Parker, raise your shirt a little, unbutton your jeans and slide them just past your pubic bone," I instructed. The anxious boy followed while squeezing his thighs together tightly. "Now just relax, take a couple deep breaths," I said. Parker took a breath and shivered, getting goosebumps all over his body. I like to keep the office a bit colder than necessary and wear a cardigan myself. I love the effect it has on my desperate patients, especially when combined with the cool gel. My poor boy was sweating, shaking and I hadn't touched him yet. I dabbed his forehead with a paper towel. He opened his big brown eyes, looked straight into mine, and I could see tears start to well. "Don't worry, Parker. We'll get through this quickly and you won't have to come back, ok?" I whispered sweetly in his ear. "Ok" he closed his eyes again and braced for the ultrasound. He tried to keep from shivering as I applied the gel. I grabbed my probe and gently laid it on his stomach, right above his belly button. His bladder was bulging and his muscles were all tensed up. "You're doing so good for me" I whispered, this time a little sultrier, "such a good boy". He seemed to notice the change in my voice and shifted his body. I started moving the probe gently across his abdomen. As I looked at the monitor, I noticed his bladder was way too full for the scan. Normally I would have my patient release a little and return, but I couldn't let this squirming little cutie go. Parker's face was pink with effort, and his whole body was shaking trying to hold in the flood. Once I moved the probe lower onto his bladder, he groaned in discomfort. "It's ok, sweetheart. Why don't you grab hold of your cock for me?" He looked up at me a little bewildered. "Well, wouldn't it help you hold if you could squeeze off the exit?" The desperate boy, in no position to argue, grabbed hold of his cock and started squeezing against the contractions of his bladder. "Turn on your right side" I said softly, tucking a curl behind his ear. His cock stiffened in his hands. He groaned and turn his body over slowly, so as to not aggravate the contents of his bladder further. "That's my good boy," I said and wiped the gel off his stomach. Since I wasn't going to get any images, I wanted to feel his bladder for myself. I stood behind him and gently placed one palm on his lower abdomen, pushing the rest of his body back into me. His cute little ass ended up grinding against my pussy as he tried to escape my hand. I gently palpated his bladder, bulging from his pubic area all the way past his belly button. It was so firm to the touch and I wondered how much time he had before the inevitable. "Please!" he yelled out, surprising even himself. "Ok, I'll help", I said as I grabbed his cock too. I squeezed nice and tight below his head. "Nothing is coming out until I say so, ok? We have to finish your exam." I said sternly. He whined like a puppy and flapped his thighs before squeezing them tight again. Poor thing, I thought, knowing he would have to come back and go through all of this a third time. I started slowly pumping his little cock, and Parker began to moan. At this point he must've been seeing stars. His arms slumped, he stopped trying to exert control and gave himself up completely. I continued to stroke his little cock firmly while breathing a little heavily into his ear. "Please" he said more quietly, with wanting. I didn't know whether he was asking to piss or for me to continue, but I took the opportunity to lead the way. "Stay nice and hard for me, sweetie. It'll be so much easier for you to hold it." I purred. At this point my patient was drooling on the table, desperately in need. I could feel his heart pounding fast and his cock getting ever harder. I pinned his left shoulder down, forcing the boy to fall harshly on his back, sloshing his bladder. "Fuck!" he yelled out. "Now, there's no need for that kind of language in my office young man," I reprimanded him. "Sorry--gotta piss--sorry" was all I got out of him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his breathing became shallow. "You'll have your time," I said "right after I'm done with you, you can race down to the bathroom and finally have a nice, long, relaxing piss" I teased. He whined again as I kept a steady hand down on his bladder and continued stroking with the other. He groaned in pain and tried to curl into himself. "Please please I have to pee so badly can we reschedule please?" he begged me. "Sorry dear, I'm all booked up and won't have another appointment for six weeks. Let's try to make it through this one and it'll be your last," I lied. "AH!!" He yelped and his hands flew down to his cock, squeezing mine too as he desperately fought for control. "Please I can't anymore I can't!" he cried. He tried to get up, but couldn't fight with his bladder so full. He gasped and tears started to flow down his pretty cheeks. "It's ok, I know it hurts but it's going to be ok. You're a a big boy and you're going to hold all that hot piss inside for me until we're finished." I tried to pry his hands off his cock but he kept squirming away. I gave him a quick slap, which took him by surprise, and grabbed his jaw in my hand. "Listen to me Parker, the only way you're getting through this is by following my instructions carefully. Is that understood?" The scared young man nodded in submission. "Good," I said, "Now take your hands off that cock." The sweaty, pained boy carefully lifted finger after finger, with a gentle sob. "PLEASE--" he cried, and I slapped him again. This time harder. The sting felt warm against my palm and I lingered on his cheek, wiping away his tears. The other hand went down to squeeze him. "Watch your tone with me," I told him. To his horror, I loosened my grip on his cock, and he immediately began to spurt. I squeezed him shut and he groaned loudly. His piss dribbled down, wetting his jeans and briefs. I started to let go every few seconds, and spurt after spurt leaked out of his abused little cock. Bit by bit, I allowed him relief, a few seconds at a time. By the time Parker was able to empty half his bladder, he was completely exhausted. He managed to gather himself once the worst of the urgency wore off, and wiped away his tears. "You were such a good boy for me," I whispered tenderly, and let him empty the rest of his bladder uninterrupted. His eyes rolled back into his head with pleasure. "Let's get you cleaned up and send you home."

View File JAV - ACZD-089 Medical - Enema, Fisting, Catheter, Pissing Medical scene with lots of enemas, a catheter, diapering, anal fisting, and more, Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 02/12/2023 Category JAV Collections  

After a long hiatus, I'm back to writing. I'm planning on at least five chapters, but I'll see how long I can keep it going. If you share the story, please credit me. Please let me know what you think! Chapters involve female desperation and/or wetting and occasional humiliation - other topics some people might not be interested in will be labeled if appropriate. Chapter 1 Maribel sipped the last of her water bottle, tossed it into a mall recycling bin and headed to a bathroom. She’d been at the mall all afternoon, and that water bottle hadn’t been the first one. Pressure was building between her legs, and Maribel was looking forward to relieving it. She got into a stall and got ready to pull up her short, grey skirt when she noticed a familiar symbol on the toilet. It looked like a miniature police badge with a bright yellow teardrop in the middle. Or pee-drop? Dammit, Maribel thought. Another detection toilet. She’d seen them before, occasionally. The toilets scanned urine for DNA profiles matching fugitives and digitally sent ‘hits’ to local police. It shouldn’t have mattered. Why couldn’t the past just be the past? Maribel was a law abiding, tax paying citizen now. She’d only been the getaway driver a few times as a teen for some friends who’d had the brilliant idea to rob banks. They were good at it, too. Great at it even, until the moment they got caught. Marisol, as she was known then, had skipped bail and used her ill-gotten gains to stay hidden. Enough money, it turned out, could buy excellent forged identification documents, cosmetic surgery – even a college education. Marisol was supposed to be gone for good, yet now a mistake as simple a pissing into the wrong toilet could resurrect her. Despite knowing what the result would be, Maribel checked the other empty stalls. Each taunted her with the same shiny, white porcelain monstrosity. It wasn’t fucking fair. Ignoring her bladder’s twinges of protest, Maribel picked up her shopping bags, exited the bathroom and headed for the parking lot. Finding her car easily, Maribel began her drive home. A few minutes in, she found herself squirming a bit in her leather seat. What are you, a child? Maribel scolded herself. It will be fine – I’ll find a gas station or something. The gas station up the road from the nearest exit seemed like just the oasis Maribel was looking for. She opened the bathroom door, sure that a gas station bathroom of all places would be free of those awful new toilets. And yet to her dismay, there it sat – another gleaming white detection toilet. FUCK!!! And so, for the second time that afternoon, Maribel left the bathroom with her bladder as full as when she’d entered. “Nice, isn’t it” a gas station attendant commented as Maribel headed towards her car. “What?” Maribel was confused. “The new toilet – the city installed it for free. Good thing too – kept having to service the last one.” “Yeah…..it’s nice.” Maribel replied. Perfectly nice, Maribel thought. Everything about it is just great except for the part where I can’t actually use it! Maribel got back into her car frustrated and very uncomfortable. I’ll pee when I get home, she told herself, hand wedged firmly against her crotch. This is fucking ridiculous. You’re not gonna wet yourself in your own damned car. Just hold it. Somehow the drive home was both a blur and in slow motion all at the same time. But Maribel made it home, shoved her key into her apartment’s lock and rushed to the bathroom with her continence and most of her dignity intact. What Maribel found made her stare in disbelief and total shock. Right there, in her own bathroom was a shiny, new detection toilet with its stupid authoritarian logo practically mocking her. WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK IS GOING ON?!!!! I’M GONNA CALL THE DAMNED MAINTENANCE GUY AND FIND OUT WHO DID THIS! THIS IS MY APARTMENT AND….” Maribel’s furious internal diatribe was interrupted by an unmistakable hissing sound. She twisted her legs together desperately but the piss just kept coming. Maribel could hardly believe what was happening as her short grey skirt rapidly darkened and hot piss ran down her legs to the fluffy bath mat below. Maribel had wet herself inches away from the toilet. After drying herself off and regaining her composure, Maribel got on the phone. “You know this line is for emergencies only, Maribel.” “This is an emergency, Mike! How could you let someone replace my toilet without telling me?” “The city came and replaced all the toilets. They didn’t tell us in advance. But they’re free and much better than the ones we had before. Apparently it’s part of some new criminal apprehension kick the mayor’s on. Don’t you like yours?” Maribel didn’t want to sound like a crazy person, or worse, someone who had a suspicious reason to not want a detection toilet in their home. “Actually, it is very nice. I just like to know when people are in my apartment is all. It feels like an invasion of privacy.” “Totally understandable. Sorry for the intrusion. Anything else I can do for you?” “No, I’m sorry for being rude.” “No problem – have a good night”. Maribel’s hands shook as she ended the call, and she tried not to hyperventilate. This was bad – worse than she could have ever imagined. What the fuck was she going to do?

I was just curious if anyone has any stories of being desperate or peeing at the doctor. Is anyone else excited by knowing you might have to give a sample? Or does anyone have a medical fetish that ties in with this? ?

[All events, places, names and medical conditions are made up and the behaviour suggested herein, especially overdosing prescription meds, is not advised or condoned] It had been getting worse for weeks when I finally went to the doctor. He'd taken a urine sample and run a few tests and told me in the meantime to drink only water or cranberry juice. When that had turned up nothing immediate he sent me for an ultrasound, for which I had to arrive at the hospital with a full bladder which I'd enjoyed, and insisted on heading home without relieving myself when they were done with the tests. I hadn't made it home without masturbating under my short summer dress on the tube though. Happy times. Today the latest results had come in and it didn't bode well that his secretary had rung me to come in for an emergency appointment. Cryptically she'd asked me not to pee or drink anything before arriving. That was fine with me, I didn't need to go. Sitting in his consulting room I was surprised I felt nervous when I saw the Doctor's grave face, but tried to hide it. He had a diagnosis and was here to make me better I told myself. I could handle that. "So what is it doctor?" I asked eventually as he was looking forlornly at me. He sighed. "You have a very rare condition, so rare I've never seen it before in my whole career. It didn't occur to me to test for it but the lab drew a blank with my requested tests so added one for this. In the meantime the ultrasound showed the same result. Your kidneys are malfunctioning, due to a constriction of the ureters that empty the urine they produce to your bladder. It's called Retroperitoneal Fibrosis. It's potentially dangerous, as it can lead to kidney disease and all the complications that brings." I wasn't sure if he was pausing for breath or to let me ask questions, so stayed stum. "Its treatable with a minor procedure, under local anaesthetic and using keyhole surgery. Normally we'd work on the ureter from the outside, as the obstruction is caused by fibroids growing near it, but in your case we need to open it up first. It's a bit like angioplasty where a balloon is used to enlarge a blocked blood vessel in the heart. However it's imperative that you don't pee until the operation. We need the pressure in your bladder to back up along the ureters and keep them open otherwise we can't insert the stent." I was getting excited now. This sounded good. "So I will get better? So when's the appointment Doctor?" I asked. He shook his head. "Yes, it's easily treatable but serious if left untreated. I've tried all over the country, the first slot I can get you is Thursday, in Orpington of all places. There's a shortage of the specialists needed. So ridiculous as it sounds you can't pee for the next 44 hours." I think he expected me to respond negatively but I couldn't. I just couldn't. "Well my record hold before now is 35 hours so that sounds ok." My grin was clearly disconcerting him as he appeared to ignore what I'd said. "We'll admit you to hospital where the staff will help you hold your pee. We'll prescribe drugs to suppress the feelings in your bladder. We'll... Hang on, what did you say?" I smiled and nodded, as if to say he'd heard right. He went beetroot red. "Are you into watersports?" "Well, omorashi to be precise." He looked blank so I went on "The denial of urination for sexual pleasure Doctor." I decided to push my luck. "Have you ever tried it?" "That's not of concern here," he muttured. "Holding urine deliberately can be bad for you young lady, it can cause bladder infections amongst other things." I interrupted "Check my notes doctor, I've never had a UTI. Could it be the cause of my condition now?" He rummaged at his keyboard and then nodded. "Ah yes, so you haven't. But no, various genetic or medication causes are attributed to Retroperitoneal Fibrosis, but peeing too often is more likely to cause this. It doesn't sound like it will be in your case. When did you last pass urine?" I told him it was a couple of hours before his secretary's phone call. "So that's what, 5 hours ago?" he asked. "Give or take," I nodded. "You must need to go by now then." He said it matter of factly, as a statement, not a question. I shook my head which served to fluster him. "Well take this prescription to the pharmacy and start taking the pills immediately. They will help suppress the nerves in your bladder and thus make it easier to hold on to begin with. I'll arrange for an ambulance to pick you up from home at," he checked his watch for the third time since I'd said I hadn't peed for 5 hours, "4 o'clock this afternoon?" I nodded. It would save me the cost of hospital parking. "You'll be admitted to the local hospital for the time being, and transferred sometime on Thursday to Orpington where the Urologist will perform the procedure. I must impress upon you, do not drink anything until you are in hospital and your fluid intake can be measured and controlled, and do not eat any moist foods, especially wet fruits like melon. Both these measures, while unsafe long term, will help avoid you overfilling before the procedure." Well that was like a red rag to a bull, and as soon as I got to the pharmacy I bought a 1 litre bottle of water and downed it while waiting for the prescription. I took quadruple the dose of the Oxybutynin pills to spice up my hospital visit, washing them down with another litre of water. The ambulance picked me up as arranged, by which time I'd only waited 7 hours, a trifle compared to my daily routine never mind any of my regular big holds. I chatted to the gorgeous paramedic who sat in the back with me, doing my best to boast that after 7 hours I didn't need to pee. He evidently wasn't into holdit but seemed to like my cleavage. I gave him my number as he wheeled me into the ward I'd be on for the next day and a half, and tried to kiss him on the cheek after he'd handed my notes to a nurse and checked I was safely on the bed. The nurses were lovely. They seemed very concerned for me that I would be "so uncomfortable" not being able to pee. None of them seemed to understand that being instructed medically not to pee was turning me on. I tried to explain that for a lot of this enforced hold I'd be completely under control and enjoying myself. But they didn't believe me. They just kept saying how badly they had to pee by the end of a busy shift and none of them seemed to like it like I do. However when I mentioned sex with a full bladder they started to take notice. The seven on my ward all formed a pact to try it out that night, by going home with their bladders full after a 12 hour shift and seducing their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands or whatever. The next day 3 reported difficulty orgasming, 3 had loved it and one had enjoyed it so much she hadn't peed afterwards and had instead begged her boyfriend for sex again this morning, when she was so desperate she had no ideas how she was still holding on. But she smiled to her colleagues all gathered round my bed that she had never had sex or an orgasm so intense, and she swore to me then and there to never have sex again without "drinking lots first." Meanwhile I'd been holding for 24 hours now and never before found it so easy. My 2 litres of water were definitely in my bladder, it was bulging to prove it, but I barely needed to go. The Oxybutinin was clearly helping. The nurses had never seen anyone so in control of such a full bladder. The day passed without incident, in fact it was boring, being allowed only sips of water and dry foods. Well, I suppose one nurse asking me to masturbate her because she admired my fetish and wanted to try it was less boring, but being straight I declined. For now. I secretly drank another huge drink when I went to the hospital shop during the evening, but was only just finishing the bottle as I got back to the ward. It was the empty bottle in my bedside bin that gave me away, another 2 litres in and nowhere for it to go! The nurse who found it was the one who'd held for the whole night and she chided me publicly but winked as she left, taking the empty bottle with her to remove the evidence. I saw her later drinking the same size bottle as she did her rounds. I was enjoying my fullness and slight sensation of needing to pee as I drifted off to sleep. Now I'd woken up on the morning of my operation, 47 hours since my last pee and bloody bursting. The pills had stopped helping and I'd drunk way too much. As I lay writhing on the bed my favourite nurse arrived. I asked if she was off home soon, clutching myself the whole time. It turned out she'd swapped with a colleague and was now doing a double shift. "I haven't peed since starting my evening shift last night, and you know I drank that water. I want to be as good as you at this," she tells me, hopping discreetly from foot to foot. She'd also put her name down to accompany me in the ambulance booked to take me to Orpington. I was way beyond my usual hold now, two hours until the operation, half an hour before the ambulance and totally beside myself, really struggling. I told her so. She offered to make me cum, to help, as it had her, but instead I tried gingerly to get out of bed to go and pee some of it out. She hit the alarm button and other nurses from the same shift ran over to restrain me. They knew I enjoyed it and reminded me as much to distract me. In the end I had to be restrained like a mental patient to stop me going to the loo. I never thought I'd be medically prevented from peeing to this extreme. The thought turned me on as much as the physical sensation worried me that I'd leak and wet myself soon. Not something I'd done as a teenager or adult but this felt like I'd have no choice. I was kept restrained, with a double dose of the pills, as the ambulance transfer proceeded. I have never been lying down with such bladder strain while being driven along Britain's uneven roads, but in other circumstances I'd recommend it. I'd never been driven under blue lights and sirens because I needed to pee! Right now all I wanted was either to pee or for my boyfriend to penetrate me. At Orpington they bumped me up the OR schedule when told of my predicament, and I was given the pre-meds almost upon arrival. Drowsily I asked the nurse accompanying me how she was doing. "Bursting like I never have before but I'm holding it till we can both go home," she said. It was nearly enough to turn me. But the surgeon was properly hot. Delirious with desperation and the drugs by now I begged him to satisfy me with my biggest hold inside me, but he declined. Something about medical ethics. He offered to catheterise me while I was still under local anaesthetic but I refused to sign that form. He said doing so might render me incontinent for a few days whereas if I waited till I could pee naturally after theatre it was likely my capacity would be permanently improved as a side effect of the treatment. Not being able to feel anything, sedated and with a local, while a doctor stuck instruments inside me to access the ureter, was weird. I could see and touch my distended bladder, which was so big that I couldn't see what the surgeon was doing, but I couldn't feel any sensation of needing to go. After the op which apparently was very successful because I had such high pressure in my bladder and ureters, the whole surgical team urged me to pee, so I did try, honestly, but the anaesthetic had locked me up. I asked my tame friendly nurse how long that might last while we waited for an ambulance to take me home. She estimated only 20 minutes, which would be fine under blue light transport but the journey would be a bit longer at London's typical pace. Thank the Lord, the same hot ambulance paramedic turned up to collect us, and we chatted on the journey. The nurse told him her situation, and mine. She was squirming constantly, sweating and generally being a right turn on even though I'm straight. It was 11:30 when I felt the first twinge as the drugs wore off, 50.5 hours in. We were in the ambulance in a traffic queue and the sedation rapidly reduced. I knew i couldn't hold it in any longer and told them both. With a look at each other, my gorgeous paramedic held a bed pan beneath me, well, 3 in turn in fact. The nurse, face scrunched up in pain as she heard me pee, told me each one held 2 pints so I estimated that pee at 5 pints. 2.8 litres. She only managed one and a half bed pans, starting as soon as I'd finished. 3 pints was still respectable for a first time measurement I told her, but she was disappointed. What the hot paramedic thought I never found out as we arrived at home soon after. Bugger, to coin a phrase.