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  1. Version 1.0.0

    77 downloads

    risky wetting sexy tight jeans shorts on a busy street - comments welcome!
    Free
  2. 9,603 downloads

    makeing room for new clips on `have u got a soggy bottom` archiving old clips here
    Free
  3. I found it on Reddit earlier today. If this person is included in the Do Not Upload list, lemme know and I'll take it down 🙂 https://www.reddit.com/r/funnyvideos/comments/vf7akg/when_you_and_your_friend_come_home_at_4am_and/ rapidsave.com_when_you_and_your_friend_come_home_at_4am_and-v98yshcw2e691.mp4
  4. View File Out and About Archive(40) makeing room on `out and about`forum archiving old clips here Submitter robster67 Submitted 04/13/2024 Category Female  
  5. View File Soggy Bottom Archive(41) makeing room for new clips on `have u got a soggy bottom` archiving old clips here Submitter robster67 Submitted 04/13/2024 Category Female  
  6. The chime of a phone alarm woke Isabelle Wilkins painfully early one August morning. She startled awake, retreated into the covers for a minute, but perked up as soon as she remembered why she was up so early. Today was launch day. Within ten minutes she browned a bagel in the toaster and then headed into the bathroom, where she showered and used the toilet. She dressed in light clothes and then stepped out of the small apartment onto brown grass. It stretched in every direction, occasionally interrupted by dead trees and oil wells. The apartment and its surroundings weren’t amazing, but Isabelle didn’t care, because it was temporary housing for the employees of Total Orbit, one of the newest startups fighting for a slice of the commercial space pie. The company could have made her sleep in a tumbleweed patch and she wouldn’t have cared. She loved her job, and to be just four years out of college and hold the title of propulsion engineer at an aerospace company on the verge of striking it big was a major bit of good luck for her. The door of the next apartment over opened and a woman about Isabelle’s age stepped out. “Good morning, Izzy,” she said. “Morning, Gloria,” Isabelle replied. Gloria Ortiz had been hired by Total Orbit at the same time as Isabelle; she was an electrical engineer responsible for the rocket’s guidance system and avionics. They’d been fast friends since their first day on the job, and on weekends they often drove out to Roswell or El Paso together to escape the crushing boredom of the Permian Basin oil country. Now they were carpooling to the Total Orbit launch site, tucked in between oil fields near the border with New Mexico. “The social media rocket nerds are already awake,” Gloria reported. “They’re saying that this is our chance to prove ourselves as a legitimate rocket company. They’re also saying that if this launch goes wrong we’ll probably go bankrupt.” “Does that bother you?” “Only because they’re right,” Gloria admitted. “They’ve also mentioned one record we’re likely to set: We won’t be the first company to launch a rocket, land a rocket stage, or put a payload in orbit.” “Damn SpaceX,” Isabelle muttered. “But we will be the first one to launch an orbital rocket from an inland spaceport,” Gloria pointed out. That made sense: Every other commercial rocket so far had launched from either Vandenberg Space Force Base in California or Cape Canaveral in Florida, with their trajectories taking them out over ocean during the flight. However, neither the state government or the FAA apparently cared about range safety anymore, so they’d approved Total Orbit’s license to build a spaceport in the middle of the prairie. Most of the engineers were worried about whether such a decision was safe, and with good reason: Rockets launching towards the southeast would thread the needle between Corpus Christi and San Antonio, and even ignoring the larger cities there were still a hundred different oil towns and farming communities that would be devastated if a rocket fell on them, literally out of the blue. It was for good reason that rockets didn’t normally fly over populated areas. With so much at stake for this launch, Gloria and Isabelle couldn’t afford to make a single mistake. … As Isabelle stepped onto the launch tower, she took a moment to savor the experience. Beside her, Gloria was doing the same. Even at this early hour, with the first traces of sunlight barely visible on the horizon, dozens of workers wearing coveralls and work boots were already rushing back and forth with checklists and tools, tending to the rocket. Here on the first level of the tower, a few thick hoses were suspended overhead. They ran to an access arm accessible by a catwalk to supply the rocket with kerosene and liquid oxygen. Vapor leaked from the liquid oxygen line at its interface with the rocket, and the mist swirling around the five engines at the bottom of the vehicle created a tantalizing sight that stirred something deep within Isabelle’s soul that lusted after the technological marvel of the science fiction scene before her. Her stupor was interrupted by heavy footsteps behind her, followed by a hard slap on the back. “Howdy, Izzy!” a deep voice called. “You ready to light this candle?” Isabelle turned around. Ruben Connor, Total Orbit’s 30-year-old launchpad safety officer, was 6’2” of Texan swagger and bravado and a commanding force on the launch tower. He’d added his own belt buckle to his coveralls, and Isabelle imagined that he’d also wear a ten-gallon cowboy hat if he could – but Ruben took his job seriously, and if he found anybody without their protective equipment on launch day he’d kick their ass back to El Paso. “Glad you’re in a good mood, Ruben,” she replied. “How’s the rocket?” “She’s a beauty, all right! One little hitch – we’ve got an electrical issue in the second-stage avionics module. Can you mosey up there and take a look at it, Gloria?” “Roger,” Gloria said. “Take it easy, you two.” As Gloria turned towards the stairs, Isabelle and Ruben headed towards the rocket. They joined the rest of the propulsion engineers checking the fuel lines and turbopumps; their job was one of the most dangerous launch day tasks, so Reuben was there to look over their shoulder for the entire morning. As they worked, Ruben reminded the crew to take frequent water breaks. Isabelle welcomed the interruptions, and by the time the engine inspection was finished she’d worked her way through most of her water supply. I should really pace myself, she thought – as a safety measure, the launchpad water was turned off early on launch day (except for the fire suppression systems, of course), and with the mounting heat she couldn’t trust the water jugs that had been placed on each level of the tower to last very long either. There might not be any refills. The other consequences of drinking so much water didn’t even cross her mind as she started up the stairs with the rest of her team to inspect the second stage engines. … Four levels up, Gloria stared at the laptop with narrowed eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” “Problem?” a technician asked. “Sustainer inertial guidance cannot initiate ground reference frame,” she hissed, reading the error on her screen. “English, please?” “The rocket needs to know where it is during flight,” Gloria explained, exasperated. “The avionics starts off with an exact definition of its position and attitude at launch, and then it updates its position based on accelerometer data – but it can’t get the initial position lock from our ground station!” “What should I do?” “Call a maintenance crew and tell them to start examining the entire length of the DS-12 data transmission cable, which goes from here to four antenna arrays a mile away from the launchpad. A break somewhere in that line is the most likely cause of the issue I’m seeing. Go!” The technician scurried off as Ruben and the propulsion team arrived at the upper level of the tower. “How’s it going, Gloria?” Isabelle asked. “Real fucking bad. The guidance system isn’t working and we need to send a crew out to examine a remote transmission station.” “How long will it take to lick this?” Ruben asked. “I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes, maybe four hours. If it takes too long I’m worried we’ll need to scrub.” “We’re launching a dummy payload so we don’t have any kind of launch window to hit,” Ruben said. “I’ll give the FAA a holler and see if we can’t extend our no-fly-zone through this afternoon. Until then, you can get your team working on the propulsion inspection, Izzy.” “Actually,” Izzy said, “second-stage engine checks require guidance data to run, since we need to make sure the thrust vectoring will respond to changes in upper-atmosphere winds. I can’t finish that until Gloria works out the avionics issue.” Ruben thought for a minute. “In that case, I’ll tell everybody who’s finished their jobs to get off the launch tower; avionics and propulsion will need to wait until we can get that cable working. I’ll try and get the FAA on the horn in the meantime.” … With Ruben gone and no work to do, Gloria and Isabelle both had their first real moments of rest since waking up early that morning. They sat in the shade and gazed out at the plains; from their vantage point they could see thousands of oil wells and the dirt road marking the border between Texas and New Mexico. With nothing else to occupy their time, they talked idly and let their minds wander, trying not to think about the massive tanks of high-pressure kerosene and oxygen barely ten feet away from them. One thing that Isabelle realized, without any work to focus on, is that she had to pee surprisingly badly. That was no surprise; it had been over four hours since her last bathroom break, and she’d had a lot to drink since then. She’d sweated a lot of water out in the daytime heat – but since they’d been working since morning, it hadn’t been warm enough to prevent a large amount of fluid from travelling down to her bladder. Isabelle stood up. “Where are you going?” Gloria asked. “Bathroom.” “You know the launchpad water’s already been turned off, right? It’s probably not a pretty sight in there.” “Well, I have to go,” Isabelle said, and went off – and then returned a minute later, a pained expression on her face. “You’re right. It’s awful.” “I have to go, too,” Gloria said. “What are we going to do?” “Suck it up and use the bathroom?” “Do you really want to do that?” Isabelle sat back down on the floor next to Gloria and pulled her knees to her chest. “No.” “Well, then we wait.” The walkie-talkie on Gloria’s belt crackled and she answered. Isabelle listened to a few minutes of her one-sided conversation, shifting her legs into a new position every few seconds. By the time Gloria got off the radio, it was clear that waiting wasn’t going to be an option. “Who was that?” Isabelle asked. “The cable maintenance team. They’ve located the break and they should have it fixed in an hour.” “An hour? That’s too long? I mean, after they fix it, you and I still need to run our inspections.” “I know,” Gloria said, and fell silent. Two technicians walked by them then, talking in Texas drawl. Gloria identified them as local labor, hired off the oil rigs in the Permian basin to work on simple launch support activities where physical endurance was more important than engineering know-how. The two men walked over to the edge of the launch tower, stood at the railing, and unzipped the trousers of their coveralls. Isabelle gaped. “Are they-” Her question was answered when she saw two golden, shimmering streams fall between their legs and descend to the unseen ground below. “Fucking rig workers,” Gloria grumbled. “These are the kinds of workers you get when you hire cheap from the energy companies.” Over at the railing, the workers were laughing a bit. One of them turned slightly, his stream intersecting that of the man next to him. A brief swordfight resulted, along with more laughing and shouting. Isabelle watched, equal parts curious and disgusted, as the workers shook themselves off and zipped their coveralls back up before walking away. “Screw this,” Gloria said, and stood up. “Come on, Izzy, we’re finding someplace to piss.” “You mean… we’re going to pee off the tower?” “Are you kidding? That’s just asking for trouble and wet socks. I mean let’s find somewhere secluded around here where we can look out for each other and take turns.” Gloria looked at Isabelle’s shocked expression. “Oh, come on. We can’t hold it forever. Unless you want to go into that awful bathroom, this is our best bet.” “But- the launch tower- the equipment-” “Is designed to withstand rainfall,” Gloria said. “If you leave a puddle, nobody will leave the difference. Besides, the water bottle I brought has a wide neck, and I’m hoping I can just go in that.” “My bottle… doesn’t,” Isabelle said. “Well, you’ll just have to rough it, then.” … Gloria crept into the narrow gap between a storage locker and the launch tower’s elevator shaft. “I’ll go first since I don’t want to have to stand in your puddle,” she told Isabelle, who nodded reluctantly while bouncing on her toes slightly. “Hand me my water bottle.” Isabelle did as instructed and turned around, embarrassment creeping into her expression. Behind her, Gloria started unfastening her coveralls, and she heard Velcro straps being opened and zippers being lowered. After a few moments of effort, the coveralls were off, and she handed them to Isabelle, who took them with a worried look. Gloria was still fully clothed in light athletic wear, but in the context of launchpad operations, she was practically naked. “Relax,” Gloria said, seeing the look on Isabelle’s face. “Full protective gear is only necessary during fuel loading and inspections.” “Hurry up, then,” Isabelle said, and turned back around. Gloria unscrewed the top of the bottle and set it next to her. Then she gripped the waistband of her shorts and took a quick glance around, reminding herself that the launch tower was nearly abandoned, and that they hadn’t seen anybody walk by for over ten minutes. With a quick flourish, the shorts and underwear were down, and Gloria was left in the unusual position of being half-naked right next to a multimillion-dollar rocket. She spread her legs, held the bottle against herself, and waited. And waited. She had to go quite badly, but she couldn’t relax. Gloria closed her eyes and focused. Waterfalls, garden sprinklers, thunderstorms, fire hoses- A brief spurt shot into the bottle. Gloria felt herself relaxing, and felt that within a few seconds she’d be peeing full force. “Hurry up!” Isabelle whined, and Gloria tensed up again. “I can’t do it standing,” she said. “It feels too weird.” Gloria crouched down and placed her back against the wall, waddling forward a bit so that her weight was supported by her shoulder blades and there was a few inches of clearance between the wall and her ass. Then she picked up the bottle and let go. Isabelle heard a powerful stream strike the plastic bottle, as well as a loud hiss and a sigh from Gloria. “This feels way better,” she said. “Just like I’m pissing in the dirt outside.” After a few seconds, the noise changed from a stream spattering against plastic to a stream hitting liquid, which Isabelle didn’t appreciate one bit. She tried not to squirm or reveal how desperate she felt, but she wholeheartedly wished that Gloria would hurry up and let her have her turn. Instead, the better part of a minute passed before Isabelle heard the stream start to taper off. She turned around to trade places with Gloria – a bit too eagerly, since her friend still had her underwear around her knees and a bottle filled nearly to the brim pressed against a sensitive area. “Oh my God!” Isabelle gasped. Gloria scoffed. “It’s fine. Here, hold this while I get my clothes back on.” She handed the bottle to Isabelle, who was too stunned to say anything. The bottle was warm, but to Isabelle’s relief the outside wasn’t wet; apparently Gloria had good aim. “Okay, your turn.” Gloria had stepped out of the alcove and was zipping her coveralls back up. Isabelle eagerly stepped past her and started tearing at her garments, disrobing with a haste that was spurred by the pressure she felt in her bladder. The last time she’d had to go this badly was during a thermodynamics exam during her college years. She’d sustained an uninterrupted night of cramming before the exam with a steady supply of caffeine-loaded drinks, some of which still hadn’t left her system when she sat down in the lecture hall. By the time she’d answered the last question, her legs were twisted into a pretzel and she had a hand buried in her crotch. The bathroom outside the lecture hall was full, so with stiff legs she’d speed-walked into a service alley behind the building and dampened the concrete with a clear stream that lasted close to a minute. That exam was the last time Isabelle had peed outside of a bathroom, but by now the overwhelming desire for relief had quashed her qualms over popping a squat on the launch tower. Moving quickly, Isabelle her pants down and set herself into a low squat with her knees close to her chest. She set her left hand down behind her to support her weight as she leaned back slightly and pulled her clothes out of the splash zone with the right hand. Then she released. The stream shot out remarkably far, splashing against the steel floor just beyond Isabelle’s ankles. It was a pale shade of yellow, and she briefly felt proud that she’d managed to keep herself well-hydrated on such a warm day. Then she spread her legs slightly, because the puddle was growing fast. As her stream went on, the sound of urine striking metal became louder and louder, and Isabelle started to worry that she’d be discovered in her compromised position by a curious engineer. But Gloria was still there to stand guard, and the knowledge let Isabelle focus on keeping the last few drops clear of her feet as the stream diminished. Within a minute she was finished, and she pulled her pants up as she rose from the squat. Gloria turned and looked down at Isabelle’s puddle. “You really had to go, huh?” Isabelle blushed and didn’t say anything. “Bet that felt real good,” Gloria said, and then handed Isabelle her jumpsuit. Just as she finished putting it back on, she heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. “It’s Ruben!” she gasped, keeping her voice down. “Hurry!” She and Gloria darted away from the puddle, grabbed a random checklist from a workbench, and made a show of reading it intently as Ruben rounded the corner from the stairwell. “I’m tellin’ you guys,” he bellowed, “those FAA sons-of-bitches take their sweet time answering the phone! We’ve got our launch clearance extended, so let’s hope those fellers we’ve got checking out the cable can get their hogs together and get us a launch soon, because I’m dying for a piss.” Isabelle nervously eyed the corner where she’d relieved herself, but Gloria responded calmly. “We can turn around it you want to go over to the railing,” she said. Ruben grinned and started walking towards the railing. “All right – no peeking, you two!” Gloria and Isabelle turned around as he unzipped his coveralls. The way they’d been designed, it would be much easier for him to relieve himself than it had been for the two women waiting with their backs politely turned. All he had to do was lower the crotch zipper and pull out his manhood. The stream took over a second to reach the ground from Ruben’s position near the top of the launch tower. He leaned back slightly and tried going for distance; he couldn’t see exactly where his impact point was on the ground far below, but he’d definitely set a personal record. With his bladder still feeling quite full, he then tried to trace the outline of Texas in the dirt. Unfortunately, the stream split into a spray of droplets as it fell, which was no good for drawing anything. Ruben’s stream trailed off around twenty seconds later, and he shook himself off and zipped up before turning back to face the rocket. “Whoo-ee! That feels good!” he shouted to Isabelle and Gloria. “Either of you need to take a leak?” Isabelle and Gloria looked at each other and held the gaze for a moment. Isabelle raised her eyebrows, and Gloria rolled her eyes slightly. “No,” Gloria said carefully. “We don’t need to go now.” Epilogue “T-minus thirty seconds.” Fifty pairs of eyes watched the displays in the Total Orbit launch control room. Twenty engineers sat at workstations down on the floor, and thirty more stood in the observation room overlooking the control center. There were three screens at the front of the room; one showed tracking and guidance data, another had altitude and velocity readouts, and the third – the one that most of the spectators were looking at – showed a live picture of the rocket. Neither Gloria nor Isabelle had been selected for a flight controller role today, so they stood side by side in the observation room, eyes glued to the screen as the announcer began the countdown. “T-minus ten, nine, eight…” Isabelle bit her lip. There were a million ways that the engines on the first stage could malfunction and destroy the entire vehicle. The launch was the moment of truth, when she’d finally find out if her work would send the rocket to orbit or careening into the West Texas dirt. “Seven, six, five, four…” As the main engines ignited and steam started billowing from the rocket, Isabelle gasped. She grabbed onto Gloria’s arm with both hands, her nerves having got the best of her. “Three, two, one, liftoff!” The hold-down bolts released and the rocket sprang up from the launchpad, accelerating at over 3 g’s. It soared into a cloudless sky, leaving behind only the white vapor trail of the four main engines as it started rolling over and picking up downrange velocity. “Vehicle is supersonic.” Some of the engineers in the control room, the ones who’d worked on the rocket’s aerodynamic simulations, relaxed. With the rocket supersonic, it had passed the point in the flight where it was exposed to maximum aerodynamic loading, and the airframe would be able to stand up to the rest of the flight with ease. “Passing Mach 5. All systems nominal.” By now the rocket was just a faint point of light traveling south in the sky. Even the best ground-based cameras could only make out the blurry vapor trail of the main engines as it climbed out of the lower atmosphere. “Passing Mach 8. Contingency abort modes now available.” Contingency abort was a euphemism for explosion. The rocket had picked up enough velocity that, in the event of a major malfunction, the debris would keep travelling downrange and fall harmlessly into the Gulf of Mexico. Isabelle let out a sigh of relief; her greatest worry so far during the flight was that some catastrophe would happen as the rocket passed over San Antonio. “Booster cutoff in three, two, one, mark. Cutoff and separation.” The first stage, high in the upper atmosphere, separated from the rest of the vehicle and began a slow pirouette under the power of reaction-control jets. It would turn around and burn off the last of its fuel to land near Corpus Christi, using technology that SpaceX had developed and that every rocketry startup had used since. “Sustainer ignition.” The second stage engine lit up. Isabelle finally relaxed a bit; now that the engine was running, it was unlikely to fail during its five-minute orbital insertion burn. The rocket was also staying true along its planned velocity vector, so it looked like Gloria’s work held up too. The view from the onboard camera showed the Gulf Coast and a few strings of clouds slowly rolling by beneath the rocket. Looking at the video, it was hard to tell that the rocket was moving twenty times faster than the speed of sound. The only thing that was clear from the transmission was that the rocket had long ago left the atmosphere behind and was steadily accelerating towards orbital velocity. “Sustainer shutdown in three, two, one… shutdown. Residuals nominal.” The control room erupted in cheering. They’d made orbit! Gloria grinned wildly and gripped Isabelle by the shoulders as both of them started laughing joyously. Their exhalation at their accomplishment was only matched by the relief of having a successful launch behind them, with no more need to fret about engines that wouldn’t ignite or tracking systems that would send the rocket spinning out of control. “Kiss me, Izzy,” Gloria said. Isabelle thought that sounded like a good idea, so she did. She was right. It was a good idea.
  7. My first fic! I'm planning on turning this into an episodic series with an ensemble cast; since chapters won't necessarily be written in the order of the events depicted within, I'll include an in-story date for when the chapter takes place. Enjoy! A/N: This was inspired by a trip I took on Amtrak's Capitol Corridor a few months ago, and I made an effort to work in a mention of every station between Sacramento and Oakland (except for Emeryville, since I didn't want to interrupt the story at that point). Fellow railfans, enjoy. Chapter 1: The Trouble with Trains July 2023 Northern California shouldn’t be this hot, Marco Vigil had decided. It was well above a hundred degrees in Sacramento, a simple fact that he nevertheless couldn’t wrap his head around. He would have expected weather like this in Phoenix, or in Austin, or in Atlanta, but not in Sacramento. Marco was eager to get out of Sacramento and away from the terrible heat, but that wouldn’t happen if he missed his train, an outcome that was looking more and more probable as he rushed to get to the platform before the departure time. Marco had gone to Sacramento to visit a friend who’d moved back home for the summer. He’d lingered in the air-conditioned oasis of his living room, with the result that he was now racing through Sacramento Valley Station in a desperate attempt to make the southbound Capitol Corridor train before it pulled away from the platform. In his mad dash through the station, as he struggled to hoist his backpack over his shoulder while holding on to his phone and mostly-empty water bottle, it hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d sprinted right past the restrooms. Now he was running flat out, and he must have been quite a sight: All 5’6” of his frame was leaning into his stride, and his unkempt black hair bounced with each footfall. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clenched with determination as he rounded the last corner to the platform. There was the train! With one last frantic burst, he leapt into the closest car and gasped for breath. The air conditioning was so refreshing that for a moment he felt weak in the knees, but he collected himself and gulped down the rest of the water. Still panting from his mad dash, he refilled his water bottle before making his way upstairs and claiming a window seat just as the train pulled out of the station. “Welcome aboard southbound Capitol Corridor train #273, with southbound service terminating at Jack London Square in Oakland. Please have your tickets ready…” Marco put in his earbuds and relaxed, eagerly taking a few more swigs from his water bottle as he thought of the immense heat outside. It would be nearly two hours before the train got to Oakland, and then for Marco it would be longer still before he got to his destination. That’s because Marco was a student at Rockridge University in Oakland, and at this time of day the bus back to campus would probably be caught up in traffic. Marco didn’t mind; he was content to sit right there in the train, enjoying the air conditioning and rehydrating himself after a scorching hot weekend. In fact, come to think of it, his bottle was almost empty again. Time for a refill, he thought. … After the train stopped in Davis, Marco went to the café car and bought a soda, since the water still hadn’t quenched his thirst. After the train stopped in Fairfield, Marco refilled his water bottle yet again. And when the train stopped in Suisun City, Marco realized that he had to pee. Well, no matter. Marco may have been shy, but he definitely wasn’t going to wait until Oakland to relieve himself – he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait that long. The only question was what to do with his bag: Take it with him into the bathroom, or leave it on the seat? After a moment of thought, he decided to leave it. The bathroom would probably be cramped, and there were plenty of people on the coach who would notice if a would-be thief tried to make off with some dirty clothes and a toothbrush. And besides, Marco thought to himself with a smirk, what kind of idiot would steal something in between station stops? He’d be trapped on the train, and then I’d just have to track the thief down… ‘Mystery on the Capitol Corridor.’ That sounds like a good short story! By this point, he’d got to the bottom floor of the car and made his way to the bathroom. He opened the door and peered inside. He’d never been inside a train’s lavatory before, but it reminded him of the one on an airplane. It was a bit larger, and furnished with stainless steel instead of plastic, but it was still familiar. There was only one major difference that Marco discovered: He closed the door behind him, moved to lock it, and ended up gesturing ineffectively at the handle. How does it lock? The door’s handle clicked into place, but there was no obvious way to lock it. Marco prodded at a small knob next to the handle, thinking that it might be the lock, but even after twisting it, pulling it, and sliding it, he could tell the door was still unlocked. I’m an engineer. I can figure this out. The experience reminded him of trying to turn on the shower in an unfamiliar hotel room; it seemed that there was always a different sequence of levers to control water temperature, actuate the drain, and turn on the shower head. The only difference was that Marco’s current situation was a bit more stressful than trying to turn on a shower, a fact that was reflected in his tense stance as he became more and more aware of the contents of his bladder. Nervously, Marco moved away from the door and faced the toilet. Glancing over his shoulder, he unbuttoned his shorts and moved down the zipper. Best to get this over with quickly before somebody comes in. Then, as he unzipped his pants, Marco’s mind was suddenly seized by the image of another passenger opening the door and disturbing him as he did his business. Maybe he could wait until Oakland after all. He zipped his shorts back up and sighed as he returned to his seat. With his thighs pressed together, Marco prepared himself for the uncomfortable ride home. … “Attention passengers… due to an open drawbridge, we’ll be delayed for about ten minutes. Next station stop is Martinez.” As the train loitered at the foot of the bridge across the San Joaquin river, Marco knew he was in trouble. For now, the discomfort in his bladder had subsided to a dull ache, but with every small movement he felt the mass of liquid shifting inside him. There was nothing to it but to press his knees together and lean back in his seat. The train was stopped next to a stand of trees on a steep hillside. Marco found himself thinking of the last time he’d had to pee this bad, during a run in the hills above campus. It had been during the heat wave last fall, and with his class schedule leaving him no choice but to run in the afternoon, he’d kept hydrated… perhaps a bit too eagerly. Just after crossing Grizzly Peak Road he’d ducked into a stand of trees, pulled the front of his shorts down, and watered a tree. The smell of urine, sweat, and eucalyptus sap that had combined on that hillside was surprisingly agreeable, and Marco made a game of it: He stepped back and angled his penis upwards, managing to soak the bark nearly four feet above the roots. Then he stepped to the side a bit and tried to project his stream as far as he could on the downhill slope. Then he was done, and he was quite satisfied to stand there watching his puddle trickle downhill. It was the shock of his life when Marco stepped out from behind the tree and saw, not thirty feet away from him, Riley Conrad standing shirtless with his back towards him, watering his own tree. Riley Vigil, who Marco knew because they were both on Rockridge’s rocketry team… Riley Conrad, who looked pretty good without a shirt on… Riley Conrad, who was pissing on a tree. Marco fled with swift but silent footsteps and set a new record on his downhill sprint back to campus. He’d already made plans to meet Riley for lunch the next day, and when they both sat down at the restaurant Marco was so nervous that he could barely read the menu, but Riley seemed normal. Obviously he hadn’t caught Marco peeing, and he hadn’t caught Marco watching him pee. After all, it wouldn’t do to let lust or piss get in the way of what was already a good friendship. … When the train stopped in Martinez, Marco had to direct his attention towards his bladder and penis every few seconds to keep himself in control. At this point, he was filled with almost as much worry as urine, and he figured that there were only two ways that his situation could get worse. The first way was that somebody would sit next to him. The second way was that she was wearing a Rockridge University t-shirt. “Oh, you’re another Rockridge student?” she asked. Marco tried to make himself look less tense. “How did you know?” “Water bottle.” Marco looked at his bottle, which he had purchased from the student store. It had the university seal printed on the side. “What’s your name?” Marco asked. “Elizabeth.” “Marco.” Elizabeth was wearing athletic shorts, a tank top, and sandals, and she had shoulder-length brown hair. Marco thought she looked familiar in a vague sort of way, as if they’d crossed paths on campus a few times before. As they talked some more, Marco learned that Elizabeth was a fellow sophomore, studying physics. He told her that he was majoring in mechanical engineering. Marco tried not to squirm in his seat, but with Elizabeth sitting next to him all he could do was sit and suffer as he tried to keep his pants dry. Luckily, the conversation was distracting him a bit; the train was now rolling through Richmond, with the factories and railyards of the East Bay moving outside the windows. Elizabeth interrupted herself to point out the window. “Look, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge.” Marco turned in his seat to see that, yes, in between the treetops, he could see the distant San Francisco skyline and the bridge off in the distance. “You know,” Elizabeth said, “I have kind of a funny story about the bridge… A few weeks ago I had a friend visit from out of town. She’s a transfer student who’ll be starting at Rockridge next fall, so she wanted me to shower her around. We went into the city, and one of the things she wanted to do was walk the length of the bridge, all the way from San Francisco to Marin. I’d never done it before either so we went across the bay and stopped in San Francisco for a coffee before heading to the bridge. Of course, it was a hot day, so I was also drinking lots of water… I didn’t realize there was a bathroom in the visitor center on the San Francisco side, so we just started walking across.” Marco stared at her. “That’s… interesting…” He shifted his legs around some more. The train was making a stop in Berkeley, and as the people passed by in the aisle he tried to lean forward as casually as he could and crossed his arms over his thighs. His new hunched-up position took some pressure off his bladder, but he couldn’t think of a way to change the subject. He really wanted to change the subject. And he really, really wanted to pee. “Anyway, all that ‘hydration’ was catching up to me. I had no idea how long the bridge was, so by the time we were halfway across I had to piss bad. It was getting hard to walk. So you know what I did? I walked up to the railing, pulled down the waistband of my shorts a few inches, and got my underwear out of the way.” “But what about the people?” Marco blurted. Elizabeth laughed. “What people? Tourists don’t go that far out onto the bridge, and the bike path was on the other side. And I was hidden in an alcove behind one of the support towers; from the road, none of the drivers could see me pissing off the side of the Golden Gate Bridge.. Oh, it was great. I tell you, when you have to go that bad, it feels so good to just let go of your inhibitions and take an amazing leak.” “Yeah.” Marco winced. “That does sound nice.” “Of course, some people are more timid. I mean, my friend also clearly had to go when we were walking the bridge, but she didn’t want to join me when I pissed over the side. She managed to wait until we found some bushes on the Marin side of the bridge. She gave them a good watering!” Marco just crossed his legs again as the train rolled south. … Marco knew he was in trouble. His legs bounced. He resisted the urge to grab himself as he twisted in his seat. Finally, he grabbed his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest, scrunching himself into a ball. His only consolation was that Elizabeth didn’t comment on his apparent desperation; if she had, he might have died of embarrassment. Her silence allowed Marco to pretend that she thought he was just trying to find a comfortable sitting position after spending nearly two hours on the train. Elizabeth was telling him about her work in Rockridge’s Turbulent Flow Lab. He didn’t understand fluid mechanics that well, but she told him that her work could have engineering applications for nozzle design. She even offered to help Marco get a position in the lab, since they’d probably need help from an engineer for their upcoming experiments. However, he declined, saying that he was more interested in robotics and aerospace engineering. And after being drawn in to such an interesting conversation, Marco was shocked to feel the train slowing down as it pulled into the station in Oakland. Finally! He grabbed his bag and stood up – and that made him realize that he truly was on the verge of wetting himself. “Will I see you on the bus back to Rockridge?” Elizabeth asked. “I don’t think so,” Marco replied hesitantly. “I have, uh… errands to run downtown.” Elizabeth smiled. “If you say so.” She saw right through the lie, but she pretended to believe Marco because it seemed important to him that nobody would find out how badly he needed to relieve himself. Honestly, she thought, if I had to go that badly I’d find some quiet alley to squat in as soon as I got off the train. She also rose from her seat to disembark, but Marco was already gone, sprinting down the stairs and onto the platform with stiff legs. With a stiff gait, he made his way towards the station building, devoting all of his energy towards holding his it in. Hobbling across the lobby, he spotted the door to the men’s room, and- No! Locked! Marco was could have cried in frustration. His face was red and he was sweating with the effort of trying not to wet his pants. He dashed out onto the street, and saw the taillights of the Rockridge shuttle bus as it pulled away from the station. “Shit!” He’d have to wait another thirty minutes for the next bus back to Rockridge. Naively, he thought for a moment that he could wait that long, but the brief lapse of concentration to check the bus schedule on his phone took its toll. Marco felt a brief spurt of urine leak out of him and soak into his underwear. No, it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to wait. Marco had been desperate before, but he’d never been so close to wetting himself that he started leaking. Out of options, he ran for the closest secluded place he could find, a mostly-empty parking garage next to the station. Ducking past the toll booth, Marco ran into a quiet corner of the station. He found a bus dropoff lane that had clearly fallen into disuse; it was separated from the rest of the garage by a wall, and the chances were low that anybody else would cross his path while he was pissing a river. Nervously, Marco walked over to a good spot with a support column shielding him from the left and a drain on the right that would hopefully keep too large a puddle from building up. Now all he had to do was unzip, pull himself out, and go. But Marco couldn’t do it; he couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Riley in the hills above campus, and how embarrassing it had been to nearly be discovered. Although there had been a few desperate times in Marco’s life where he’d had no problem watering a tree or a bush, he’d avoided peeing outside since the incident with Riley last fall. And now he was in a built-up environment, not out in nature like the previous times he hadn’t been able to wait for a bathroom. Pissing here seemed like an impossible task. But all of those concerns were pushed aside by Marco’s intense desperation and a desire to salvage his dry shorts. If relieving himself here was difficult, then wetting himself was unthinkable. Steeling his nerve, Marco unzipped his shorts, pulled his underwear waistband down, and gripped his penis in his right hand. He aimed at the wall, and immediately a torrent burst forth from him. Marco was standing less than two feet from the wall, but in that moment he was sure that his stream could have traveled three times that distance, and the pressure caused a few spray drops to ricochet back onto his ankles. That didn’t bother him at all; the feeling of relieving himself after putting it off for far too long was intoxicating. Even though Marco fought the urge to close his eyes so that he could keep glancing around for passersby, for the most part he didn’t have a care in the world as he took his badly-needed piss. In his entire life, Marco had only ever peed in three places before: In a bathroom, onto a tree, and onto dirt. Concrete was new to him, and he was surprised by how quickly his stream flowed down the wall and into the drain. As it fell into the drain, it made a gurgling sound; the sound amused Marco, and he wondered how long he’d be able to keep it up. He had already passed twenty seconds, and he showed no signs of slowing yet. Moving his right hand, Marco began to idly move his stream back and forth against the wall, settling on a position that provided a bit more space between his foot and the steady trickle running into the drain. His small accomplishment made him smile; it wasn’t a wide grin that crossed his face, but rather the mellow expression of relief and bliss. So far, Marco thought that his first urban piss was going quite well. Maybe he didn’t have anything to worry about after all. In fact, maybe he’d even try it again sometime. On a few occasions over the last few weeks, Marco had missed his bus and been stranded in the remote corner of Oakland where he worked as an intern at an engineering firm. Since Marco tended to drink a lot of water during the workday, after waiting at the bus stop for a few minutes he’d have a distinct urge to go. His pride refused to let him walk back to the office just to use the bathroom – after all what if somebody saw him? – but the industrial side of town wasn’t well-served by transit, and after waiting half an hour for the next bus he’d be quite uncomfortable. He always made it home before it became a true emergency, but next time maybe he’d just find a spot behind an abandoned warehouse and water the plants. As he was lost in thought, Marco didn’t pay much attention as his stream started to lose power. Another ten seconds or so, and he’d be finished, with an impressive damp mark on the wall and a puddle of urine slowly flowing into the drain. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw somebody walking towards him. Marco’s good mood vanished in an instant. He couldn’t possibly let anybody see him like this! With lightning speed, he tucked his penis back into his underwear and zipped his shorts up. Unfortunately, after being lost in relief, he wasn’t able to stop his stream until a few seconds after fastening his pants, and he ended up with a small but noticeable damp patch on the front of his shorts. With no time to worry about that, he bolted for the nearest exit, which happened to take him next to the person he’d seen coming his way. The person was Elizabeth, and she waved. Marco saw her eyes move downwards, just for an instant, and he knew that he’d been caught. He’d had an accident, and Elizabeth had seen it. Marco was overcome with embarrassment, and he instinctively turned to face away from her. And then, instinctually, he started running, sprinting back out onto the street and leaving the parking garage behind. He’d see Elizabeth again on the bus back to campus, but for now he just needed to be alone.
  8. Not wanting to disappoint his sidekicks, Kaito pushes through training to keep up. Unfortunately, it seems that even the most determined astronauts have their limits...

    © Kaito Momota is from the game Danganronpa: Killing Harmony

  9. Lumine from Genshin Impact tries to pee outside, but gets unexpectedly caught
  10. Just a heads up, sorry this is a long read. If you still want to read, enjoy the story! Okay. So it's been quite a while since I've pushed my bladder to its limit, and really wanted to tonight. The only issue I had was that I couldn't wet myself tonight, and would have to use the toilet normally. So, I started holding at 23:00, grabbed a 500ml bottle of water, and made 1l of green & peppermint tea in a pot. Last time I drank it, it went straight through me and I had to pee myself on a walk because of it. I drank about 300ml of the tea every 25 mins so I wouldn't feel too full, and half of the water some time in between. By the time midnight rolled around, I'd drank about 850ml and was at about a 4/10. At 00:30, I was at about a 6/10 and decided to refill the teapot with another litre of water. By the time it was 01:00, I was at an 8/10 and had drank 1800ml, and could see my bladder bulging quite a bit. I then had an idea. Just because I can't wet myself, doesn't mean I have to use the toilet. What if I went into my garden, took all my clothes off (besides my oversized t-shirt), went onto my knees, and peed like that on the grass? When 01:20 came, I was at a 9/10. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold much longer, my bladder started throbbing, and that's only happened maybe 4 times in my life. To give me and my bladder some hope, I said to myself I'd hold until 01:45. I still drank the same rate I had been drinking, and after what felt like an eternity, 01:35 rolled around. I finished the last of the tea I was meant to, and had drank 2200ml. I decided to head outside now. I couldn't stop squeezing my legs together and using my hand to hold myself, but I had to make sure I was silent leaving my room and going outside. By some miracle, I made it to the garden door, quietly unlocked it, and headed outside. It was now 01:40. I still had to hold another 5 mins, but I was in the final stretch. I could hold in anyway that helped, pace around to ease the pressure, anything. I just had to last 5 more mins. 01:41, I sat down and leaned forward to try ease the pressure. It helped quite a bit. 01:42, I had to jam my hand into my groin to stop myself from leaking. 01:43, I start pacing frantically with my hand still in place. Come on, I'm almost there! 01:44, this one minute felt like a lifetime. I was pacing on the spot, pee dancing, my fingers were starting to hurt from how hard I was holding myself, but I had to make it. 01:45. I immediately pulled my pyjamas and underwear down, but still had to slowly walk over to a clear spot on the grass. Finally... sweet relief. I let the floodgates open. I made it. I was still standing because in my panic I forgot I was supposed to kneel, so I just let my legs give way while I was peeing. It hurt a bit and accidentally peed a lil bit on my legs, but the relief I felt was more than worth it for me to ignore the pain. I was sitting there, my t-shirt barely covering myself, letting all of that tea I drank earlier out of me into the grass. I've never felt relief like that before... After I realised I stopped peeing, I got up, wiped any grass (and pee) off my knees with a dirty towel, put my clothes back on, and laid in bed. It's been 45 mins since then, and I can say with confidence that's one of the best holds I've done in a long while. I don't know if it felt so good because I was so desperate, I was barely covered, or because I was outside instead of by the toilet, maybe it was all of those thing, but I'm absolutely gonna hold and end it like that again.
  11. The other day, I drove to pick some folks up from an airport. It was a short drive. Nonetheless, it was long enough. I had to pee 40 minutes into my campaign but thought I would survive the trip to my destination. Now, at the airport, I go to the short-term parking lots. It was super far away. There is no world where I can find a parking space and book it into the airport washroom. No way I can make it. I park. I'm on the 5th floor in a parking garage and feel myself trickle a little. Never have I leaked in my life. It was too much. I did a pacing dance, thinking about getting to the washroom in time. Not possible. I found a corner in the lot. It was beside a stairwell; beyond that, you could see the spiral where vehicles drove up. Some cars did drive past. So what I did, looking out over the balcony-like walls at all the people entering and leaving the airport, stealthy whipped out my dong and pissed in the corner. All was good again after growing a chub from pee shivers and relief.
  12. From the album: Furry Omorashi

    It's all fun and games, wearing a super hero costume all the time, until the one time you gotta get it off fast the zipper gets caught! How will our daring hero get outta this predicament? 😛
  13. only-omorashi

    kaito.1

    From the album: stuff

    large campus + full bladder ^ being peeshy = he’s pretty damn lucky no ones around right now
  14. Currently sitting on my patio in two pair of wet boxer briefs and black shorts. It's been a while since I've "indulged", but tonight I just said screw it, Imma be lazy. If I have to go, I'll wait until I can't, but when I loose it, it won't be in a toilet ;). The best part is I live in an active campground, so getting caught is a real possibility, but the Captain tends to give me a bigger set of balls than usual. So for tonight, my shorts are my toilet. I've already lost it once, and it won't be long before I'm wet again. And I genuinely don't care 😄 Side note: We have No Nut November, why not No Toilet Tuesday? Chaoi my Omo siblings!
  15. A few nights ago, my husband and I were sitting on our deck. We were enjoying the fresh crisp air, and each other's company. I enjoy his touches, affection, tickles. It makes me incredibly wet and very needy. He was tickling my feet, at first it was a gentle foot rub, which felt amazing. I love when he spontaneously rubs my feet or any other part of me. Not necessarily sexual. I will be honest, I was in need to use the bathroom. After over 7 hours of agonizing pain and discomfort. (I do enjoy the holding and desperation feeling. I could go either way regarding wetting. Depends on my husband.) I was trying to press my legs together as he tickled my feet. I was laughing fairly hard. Mt feet were extremely sensitive and so was my ankles. In which he also tickled. I thrashed my body across the patio furniture as he firmly held my foot, tickling me even more, switching to the neglected foot. "You know our magic word. Say it if you want me to stop." He reminded. I told him, "I'm going to pee myself if you don't stop." I was in hysterics. He had me busting a gut. He did let up only to tickle my sides and hips, applying pressure and knowing my utmost sensitive parts of my body. "I'm going to pee!" I warned, though I never gave in with the 'magic word'. "Oh my God!" I managed to screech as I started to pee and it came rushing out. The urine raced down my legs, making wet streaks in my matte black leggings. I felt him go from tickling me to fondling my breasts and rubbing me as I had an amazing relief. I had a small orgasm, only intensified my urges. I turned around as I bit my lip, showing off my wetness with pride. We went to our shower and met each others desires. (3× for me. *blush blush*.)
  16. WARNING: If you don't like messing (or hate Willy Wonka) turn back now because this experience ends at the Chocolate Factory. Teeny tiny bit of fudge visible in last photo. Also if you've read my other posts, you know there won't be photos or videos of me. Y'all... I will never complain about yard work again. I started off my morning with coffee and yogurt, then headed out back for some roof work, which took way longer than expected, I was up on the ladder for well over an hour, almost 2. In that time, I had already soaked myself with the hose cleaning out gutters and the coffee was starting to work its way through me. I figured i was already wet, and my continuing to squirm while 6 ft in the air was bordering on dangerous so I just... let go. There's a weird thrill knowing you're wetting yourself in full view of every neighbor as you teeter over the fence line! Here's the aftermath of that. After, I headed in to cool off and tried something a little new: rapid desperation. I drank around 1200ml in about an hour, then filled up my water bottle one more time. I put my same wet panties and shorts back on (WOW. What a feeling) and headed back out. Started with pruning and weeds in the back, and felt the effects QUICKLY as I continued to sip from my water in the heat. Leaning over to pull the weeds was a difficult task with all the pressure put on my full bladder. When I finished with that task, I was already squirming and potty dancing. The wet spot from the first time was still visible on the front of my shorts. But I was feeling daring and headed to the front yard to work there. I got down on my knees to work on the weeds, and immediately felt a tiny sprinkle of pee sneak out, along with an audible moan. I grabbed myself, regained composure and kept working, but the kneeling position was too much. I was bouncing, rocking, sitting on my heels. I'm sure it was obvious to everyone that I needed a potty break. More dribbles continued to dampen my clothes. Before I had pulled even half, I was back up and rushing to the back yard gate, feeling the trickles begin down my legs. **THIS IS WHERE IT GETS MESSY** In the safety of the backyard (and on the ground this time), I couldn't hold back my piss any longer and let go. It streamed down my legs and splattered on the patio while I panted and moaned loud enough to wake the dead. The feeling of relief was ecstatic as I felt my clothes rapidly becoming soaked again. My shoes quickly became surrounded by a pool of my piss, as my bladder emptied with abandon. It felt like I could never stop peeing. That complete feeling of relaxation must have affected all my muscles, because before I knew it, I was squatting on the concrete and felt a surprising "plop" in the seat of my panties. I had--completely unplanned, began to have a second kind of accident! After getting over my inital shock--(I've just shit my pants!) It only took a light push to finish the job. I remained frozen as my panties expanded and sagged with the consequences of my mess. Pee dribbled from my soaking shorts and I remained transfixed and gasping on the ground, having a full blown accident in my panties, outside where anyone could spot me. Aftermath of second accident--I laid the panties in a way that conceals most of the mess, I'm not into visible poop either. Somehow nothing got on my shorts (other than pee!)
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