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Found 147 results

  1. With Kayra's approval i have created a new thread for her and her pee shows for everyone who still wishes to be a part of the pee shows of our Queen. As many of you know, she loved all the challenges and fun things you guys made her do, so feel free to come and join her in her room again soon and have fun like we previously did together. She has also given me permission to post Gifs and pictures, now and in the future. There may even be some short videos in the future. Any information about upcoming shows will be posted here. I will also post here everytime she comes online ( unless im sleeping lol ) The link to her page - https://m.chaturbate.com/kayra_latin_/ She hopes to see you there again soon, to torture her and bring fun and laughter. Please be polite and treat her with respect. Bladder bulges, Challenges, Beer shows, Pee dancing, Nude peeing, Wetting panties or pants, She does it all. Powerful pee streams - Sexy pee dancing - Bladder bulges - Wetting Jeans -
  2. So, I just started watching this super cool show, Twelve Forever. It's on Netflix and its main focus is this red-headed 12 year old girl named Reggie who never wants to grow up despite what everyone else is telling her. She has a magic key that basically allows her to travel to this magic place called Endless Island where she can be herself & never have to worry about growing up (she's known as Twelve in this world). And since it's a kids' show, you can pretty expect a LOT of toilet humor. Yet, the show fortunately doesn't rely on that. There are however a few pee jokes here and there (such as Reggie saying she peed in a fountain at the mall once or threatening with peeing on the floor in class if the teacher won't let her go to the bathroom),but overall nothing that interesting. Just the kind of humor you'll find in a kids' show. On the other end of the spectrum, the show also picks up a lot of more mature themes such as sexuality and puberty. But it's a given that they'll get away with a lot more, as it aired on Netflix (which has much less restrictions when it comes to their shows compared to Cartoon Network). However, what I was getting at was in fact the main antagonist of the show - the Butt Witch (which apparently isn't her real name, but only the childish nickname Reggie gave her out of spite). The Butt Witch is this highly - attractive curvaceous lady with a sultry deep male voice. She is meant to represent puberty. More exactly, the chanhes your body goes through during puberty. I was wondering, wouldn't it be great if we got some Butt Witch omorashi? Generally, she seems to be the type who puts a lot of focus on coming up with plans to kill Twelve and restore Endless Island back to its original format. So, I guess she might not pay attention to her bladder as much until the very last moment. She also seems like the type who would try to alway appear in control, always very mature, so if she is with Big Deal (her minion) out on a mission to destroy Twelve, I feel like she would try to not pay attention to her bursting bladder and focus on what she has to do instead. She might discretely cross her legs and & grab her crotch occasionally. Big Deal would probably ask if she's fine several times, at which BW would lie and tell him shortly "I've never been better". And if she ends up wetting herself, she would probably try to hide her blush & embarrasment , with Big Deal doing his best to make his mistress feel better. Something like "It's okay mam, it was just an accident. These things happen". Another think I noticed is a certain lack of bathrooms on Endless Island, but that's probably because Reggie (or Twelve, as she's known in this universe) woukd just pee anywhere. However, I think that Buttwitch is too classy to juts lower herself to do that,unless it was a dire emergency. Another thing to consider is that BW is also wearing that tight red catsuit which might be an absolute to struggle to get out of. So in an emergency, I don't think she would be able to make it until she takes the entire thing off. She probably needs help from Big Deal eveytime she needs to pee. I also watched the last episode in which BW gets shrunked by Twelve and her friends & locked her inside a cage. What if once she shrunken, her bladder shrank as well (but the liquid inside of it remain the same). She might so desperate but not one can help her get out of there. Ah, I just love Buttwitch. So many possibilities with this lovely character. What do you guys think?
  3. Alex Oxford

    female Cashier Desperation

    This is a sighting from fairly recently, but I haven't had time to sit down and type it out! I may have embellished a little bit for storytelling purposes, but all of this definitely happened, and it was pretty great. About a month ago or so, I was going on a little road trip with friends, towards the southern border of California. Of course, as every self respecting man knows, you need to have some badass socks for a badass road trip. I hope I'm not the only one. Regardless, I needed socks, and as much as I hated to admit it, a particular store in my area had the best socks for the best prices (I've shopped around). This particular store I used to work at, right after I graduated from high school. They shafted me on hours on a regular basis, had the crappiest job training in the world, and on a number of occasions, I was harassed by a crackhead (the same one), and a co-workers jealous cholo boyfriend. Naturally, this was not one of my best experiences. While it really did a lot at toughening me up, I never once looked forward to going to work. I'd like to think I'm over it now, but I'm still not the biggest fan. I was at least over it to walk in there and get a tremendous deal on some work socks. You know, the kind that you use for office clothes and such. I picked up a pair earbuds as well, and a pair of throw away flip flops, which is important coming up. As usual, they were understaffed, and there was a long line with only 2 cashiers, both girls that looked to be in their early twenties. I sighed, and waited patiently for my turn. The cashier furthest to the left was about 5'4", pretty, and Latina, with long black hair kept in a ponytail, with modest assets. She looked fairly athletic. As my turn came closer, I noticed that this particular girl was looking a little restless. She was bouncing up and down, and blowing somewhat forcefully through her mouth, that way you would blow on a cup of tea or coffee to cool it off. She seemed somewhat distressed, and I think I knew why. I felt a sudden rush of excitement roll through my chest, and I silently wished that I would be called to her register. The stars aligned today, and as I approached the register, her buzzer went off. "Please proceed to register 5." Nice. "Hi, how are you today?" She greeted me pleasantly. "Not so bad, thanks! Just running a few errands. How's your day so far?" "It's going okay, it's been really busy!" "I'm sure, there's only two of you!" I said, referring to the lack of cashiers. "It's always like that." She sighed, and crossed her legs tightly. She then proceeded to bounce up and down while ringing up my stuff. She started stepping from foot to foot, and she sighed in frustration as she did so. I decided to say something, casually of course. "It's been a long day for you huh?" I said, referring to her sigh. "Oh not really, I've had longer shifts. Honestly, I just really have to pee!." I blushed. Then I laughed, and she giggled back. "Don't make fun of me!" She laughed, crossing her legs and bending forward. I was so aroused. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you. I promise!" I teased back. She was a good sport about it. "You better be!" She laughed, giving me a silly look. "Oh my god, I have to pee soooo bad!" Now that the cat was out of the bag, she began to openly pee dance, to my disbelief. She started stutter stepping, putting one foot in front of the other, rhythmically, and dancing from foot to foot. "You gonna be okay?" I asked, feigning concerning but subtly wanting to know more. "I will be if someone were to come and cover for me! I've been trying to go for a whole hour now!" She said, crossing her legs, bouncing, and hissing through her teeth as she desperately tried to finish the transaction. "A whole hour!? Damn, you're a pro!" I teased, hoping to make her laugh. She giggled, firmly crossing her legs and pressing her hand into her side. "Don't make me laugh, it's not helping!" "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to make things worse!" Low key, I was. She then asked for debit or credit, the whole time pee dancing, and getting more and more frantic by the second. She really had to pee, and it was obvious to anyone looking at her that she didn't have much time before she had an accident, and completely flooded her work uniform and made a massive puddle behind the register. At this point, I am aroused beyond belief, and I'm doing my best to keep my composure, probably failing actually. I was so nervous I was almost shaking. I decided to do something very bold, and something I almost regret. I decided to delay her as long as I possibly could, and see how that played out. I wasn't sure if I would be entirely discreet about it, but I decided I was going to do it anyway. I told her I wanted debit, and the prompt came on to the screen and requested my PIN. I inserted my card, and intentionally input the wrong PIN. I was so nervous and excited and what could potentially happen that it was almost overwhelming. But what's done is done. She continued to subtly pee dance behind the register, and I could hear the shuffling of her thighs back and forth behind the counter. She frowned, and looked at me. "The card was declined, invalid PIN." "Huh, that's strange. I'm pretty sure this is the same debit card I always use. It could be from my business account, can I try again?" "Of course!" She said reassuringly. We tried again, and again (of course), it was declined. She was starting to look a little bit anxious, and I could now hear her feet making contact with the floor with more force. She was losing composure. "I'm so sorry about this, let me do credit and I'll run my credit card." "Okay... no problem!" She said, biting her lip with a forced smile. She started tapping her foot, jiggling her leg, and took a minute to press her hands against her thighs. "I really have to pee. Oh my god. I'm so sorry, I must look ridiculous!" She gave a half hearted giggle, while continuing her pee dance, now much more frantic, visible, and vivid. She stepped back and forth, and an audible moan left her mouth. I tried my credit card, which was maxed out. Again, declined. "Here, let me try another one!" I said, pulling out another cancelled card as she reset the transaction. As aroused as I was, I started to feel guilty, dirty even. Despite the fact that she wasn't able to leave, even if I did cash out, I still felt bad for making this harder for her, and I had a wave of conscience. "Look, you can go to the bathroom real quick, I'll just stay here, I don't mind waiting." "No, I can't, someone has to be here to fill in for me." She winced, bending slightly and putting her hands on her knees. I thankfully my erection was concealed on the other end of the waist high counter, or I would've been outed. I haven't seen a woman this desperate in a long time, and I had no idea how to take it. At this point, I had had my fun. I felt bad, and I was ready to pay for my stupid socks. I asked her to try again, and reached for an active credit card. She nodded, and started the transaction over. As she waited for me to nervously pull out my other, she reached for a water bottle underneath her counter, and chugged a good quarter of it. I was shocked, and I couldn't help but stare as she gulped down additional fluids, which was definitely a problem for her bursting bladder. I tried to make a joke, considering this was absolutely incredulous to me. "Isn't that counter- productive?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "What is?" "Chugging water? Don't you like, really have to pee?" "Ohhhhh, that!" She laughed, crossing her legs and bouncing once, kicking her foot behind her. "I wasn't even thinking honestly! I always drink a lot of water." "Not that it's any of my business, but that might have been what's gotten you in this situation in the first place!" I teased, genuinely. As much I was I was enjoying this, it was ludicrous to me that she would keep drinking, being that she looked like she was on the verge of an accident. "You're probably right to be honest, this happens to me a lot here!" Nice. Amidst her frantic dancing however, I failed to notice one of the other employees come in behind the register. Apparently, he had just come in, and opened up another register. We both looked at the same time as he logged in. "Oh thank god! I'm dying!" She whined, and radioed in to the supervisor to see if it was okay if she could use the bathroom. "Hi, it's Jenny (we'll call her).... No, but Diego (we'll call him) just signed in, can please take a break now?.... I really have to go, I've been holding it since 3.... Okay, thank you so much!" She put down the radio and looked at me. "I'm so sorry but this is getting bad, I have to go. Diego can help you on the next register!" "That's no problem, I totally understand!" I said nicely, "have a nice day!" She still had to log out of her register, and as I moved over to Diego's, I could see her frantically stepping back and forth as she attempted to log out. I rang my stuff up at his register, and in order to not look fishy, I told him I was having trouble with a lot of my cards, and I needed to find one that worked. I began to search for another credit card, when all Diego called to Jenny, as she was walking towards the bathroom with clenched fists. "Hey Jen, do you know where the [name of tool] is?" A what? Why would he need that? Then I looked down at the flip flops that I had bought, and they were chained together with a theft prevention sensor and cable. I couldn't leave the store without them, and there was a tool that you needed to remove it. Diego didn't have it in his register, but apparently Jenny did. She stopped on the spot, crossed her legs, and winced and groaned. She bent at the waist and clenched her fists at her sides. It was so sexy, and other customers watched as this pretty girl desperately tried not to pee herself in the middle of her job. Jenny waddled back over to her register, and searched for the tool to remove the sensor from my flip flops. She couldn't find it. She raised a thigh to waist level and twisted to gain control, and hissed through her teeth. She was definitely close to losing it. "Are you okay?" Diego asked stupidly. "No I have to pee!" Jenny whined, stepping in place. "I'm sorry, can you have Donna (we'll call her) find it? She knows where it is, I seriously can't wait anymore." With that, she briskly shuffled over to the bathrooms. By the time Donna had come and provided the tool, she still had not come back. I silently hoped that she had wet herself on the way to the bathroom. I asked for scissors real quick from Donna, who was unoccupied at the time and working the other register closest to the exit, to open my earbud container. Just as she had finished opening the container, and I had linked up the earbuds to my phone to play some music on, I saw Jenny walking back from the bathrooms, looking cheery. She made it, I'm sure. She saw me as she passed by and smiled. "Feeling better?" I chuckled. "Much better, thank you! Have a nice day!" I don't have many fond memories of this store. But as of that day, I have one more! I might need more socks, now that I think of it.
  4. Chapter 1 Mrs. Clemens ran into the school at the start of the day. She tossed her empty coffee into the garbage can. Having forgotten to use the bathroom before leaving home, and then guzzling down her coffee only worsened things. Her bladder felt hard and heavy, aching so bad she almost just wanted to pee her pants right there. She ran up to the bathroom, a one person’s room, there was one for ladies and one for men, and she shoved her key in and tried to turn, but no good. Sweating, shaking, she knocked on the door fast and with force. “Um, um, are you almost done in there?” asked the desperate thirty-year-old. “In a minute.” With her bag hanging over her arm, Mrs. Clemens kept her legs tight together as her feet paced back and forth. She saw a couple student walked by and giggled. Embarrassing. She pushed her hands up against her crotch and crossed her legs. She felt herself losing control, her eye widening, the pain so bad. The pee inside slowly moving through her crotch, trying to push the cracks of her crotch opened and flood her underwear and pants. “No, no, no, no!” she freaked out. She was about to knock again when the door opened, and Mrs. Clemens ran in, unbuttoning her pants, pulling them and her white panties down, and spreading her legs as she sat on that toilet. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” she said peacefully as her bladder deflated. A loud stream shot out of her, splashing the toilet water sending drops at her ass that were cold. The sweet relief as she sat down letting it all out, avoding a major accident. After a minute, she flushed, got her pants back up, washed her hands and went to her class to start the day. Mrs. Michaud was a tall woman. Amazon lady-like tall. Her long, muscular legs made her 40-year-old body still seem like early thirties, late twenties and a ten on the hottie scale. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a long ponytail, and she wore black nylons over her tall legs, with a dark red short skirt over it. Her torso was covered by a tight black sweater. It was only the beginning of May, and a good two months of school left. The sun blazed onto the high school making teachers and students like Michaud sweat. “Jesus,” she said, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She guzzled a large portion of her big water bottle and her throat expanded and gulped as it all went into her body. Across the hall Ms. Lee, who was getting married at the end of the school year. She was a thin, hot blonde in her mid-twenties. Her blonde hair lased over her shoulders as a tight gray top stretched over her boobs. Her black jacket was more for show than need, since it was so hot, she wish she had not worn it. Her tight black jeans showed off her sexy crotch and ass and cut off at the ankles where she wore brown heels. Her XL Ice Coffee from the donut shop this morning both perked her up and cooled her off. Mrs. Clemens, although her marriage seemed on the rocks lately, she remained optimistic. After all despite a tiny bit of chubby around the hips and legs, those tight blue jeans, white t-shirt with a black sweater tight over it showed off her classy, figure. Her short brown hair hung over her ears, and she wore brown shoes that had the back cut off which allowed people to see her white socks. She sat with her feet up on her desk, ankles crossed, and read aloud to her students from the poem they were reviewing. “And to the wind, comes the night, let the rivers flow and-,” just then, Mrs. Clemens was cut off by a slight tingling in her lower body. A familiar pressure. Not even close to bad. But a slight annoyance as she felt it push up again here and there. Perhaps she should not have had her morning coffee so fast and guzzled down that can of cola from the teacher’s break room vending machine. She whistled quietly to herself as a student read on. The first bell of the day rang, and classes ended. Everyone headed out. Mrs. Tuley, a physics teacher, had her class on the other side of the school today as most of the rooms on the other side of the school was being renovated. Construction left holes in the walls, power lines turned off, and the plumbing exposed. Some classrooms were still opened, but it was still a hassle for some. Mrs. Tuley dismissed her class, and thank the heavens the teacher’s lavatory was right next to the computer lab. She unlocked it with her designated key, and went in to do her business. Down the hall came Mrs. Clemens, her nice ass shaking back and forth. For thirty-years-old, she still looked pretty good. She stuck her key in the teacher’s lavatory door, tried to turn it, but it felt like it did not move. She grabbed the handle and tried turning it, but no good. She tried harder turning the key, but nothing. She knocked, and heard from the inside, “Occupied.” Mrs. Clemens sighed as she stood against the wall across from the bathroom. Her hands in her pockets, whistling quietly. The remaining of her morning coffee that had not made it out this morning since it had not reached her bladder yet, mixed with the digested cola. Such a hot day. She walked over to the drinking fountain and took a long sip. She saw Mrs. Michaud and Ms. Lee walking towards the bathroom so she hurried back so she could remain in front. Michaud was right behind her, Lee at the end, and each motioned their hips back and forth as they waited for the toilet…. To be continued…
  5. Super awesome

    female Indian Panty Wetting

    Version 1.0.0

    1,808 downloads

    I found these on VK. But I remember seeing these years ago. Word is that Barbie is the other two girls mother. But I don't think thats true. If it is true, than I wonder how they decided to make wetting videos and who idea was it. One is Barbie and Janice having a pee holding contest. Midway through the video, Janice runs to the toilet but end up pissing her jeans on the steps. Barbie follows than wets her jeans while waiting on Janice to change her pants. Another is Janice waiting on Barbie to get in her apartment, She crosses her awesome legs while trying to hold her pee in. Janice pisses her shorts right as she makes it to the toilet. Three Girls Pee Holding Contest is as the name implies. All three piss themselves by the end. This is likely their first video. Another video is probably one of Janice's earlier videos. Janice is rushing home wearing some really tight jeans. She makes it to the toilet but couldn't undo her jeans in time and end up peeing herself.

    Free

  6. View File Indian Panty Wetting I found these on VK. But I remember seeing these years ago. Word is that Barbie is the other two girls mother. But I don't think thats true. If it is true, than I wonder how they decided to make wetting videos and who idea was it. One is Barbie and Janice having a pee holding contest. Midway through the video, Janice runs to the toilet but end up pissing her jeans on the steps. Barbie follows than wets her jeans while waiting on Janice to change her pants. Another is Janice waiting on Barbie to get in her apartment, She crosses her awesome legs while trying to hold her pee in. Janice pisses her shorts right as she makes it to the toilet. Three Girls Pee Holding Contest is as the name implies. All three piss themselves by the end. This is likely their first video. Another video is probably one of Janice's earlier videos. Janice is rushing home wearing some really tight jeans. She makes it to the toilet but couldn't undo her jeans in time and end up peeing herself. Submitter Super awesome Submitted 07/16/2019 Category Female videos Clothing Jeans  
  7. This story (multi-part) is based on a roleplay I had over chat with “burstingboy”, who´s idea the whole scenario was. Will eventually contain pee desperation, poo desperation, peeing and wetting with minor sexual content. (this first small segment contains VERY minor poo desp) „Please hurry up i´ve been waiting soooo loooong!“ Kira said in a half-moaning and half-whining voice, knocking on the bathroom door with one hand while pressing the other onto her crotch. She blushed slightly as she bent forward slightly, pushing out her bottom as she wiggled in front of the locked toilet door. “I can´t wait any longer!” The girl behind her, Megan, added, herself standing one leg and angling the second against it, squirming on the spot. The two girls were at the front of a queue of 26 girls all waiting for a chance at the single ladies room, in various stages of discomfort and urgency. “I can´t believe how long the line for the toilet is!” Megan gasped, pushing a hand in front of her crotch as well in an exaggerated motion. Kira nodded and rolled her eyes, reaching forward to knock on the door again sharply as she saw two other girls walk by the queue quickly. “Is this the line for the ladies room? This is ridiculous!” the blonde said with an eyeroll, making a show of crossing her legs and wiggling her ass. “yeah…there is no way I can wait for it, it´d take forever to make it through…” the brunette agreed, swaying her hips and putting her legs close together knees bent slightly. Both looked away from the toilet with desperate grimaces as if in serious pain for a few moments before the blonde leaned over to the other girl and said loudly “lets find a bush we have to get back…” before they hurried off to a side. `I wish I could find a bush!´ Kira thought, still doing her badly designed pee dance in front of the toilet cursing her full bladder, looking longingly at the toilet door hoping against hope for it to open. “CUT!” a loud voice called, followed by a series of gasps and groans behind Kira. She immediately locked her knees and squirmed, closing her eyes at the relief actual pee dancing brought her, however fleeting. “This is ridiculous why do we have to actually needing the loo if they´re gonna tell us how to act anyway?” Megan complained, speed-walking on the spot. Behind her a girl was holding her stomach hunched over and looking down the line Kira couldn´t see a single girl standing still apart from 2 with legs crossed very tightly. “Its just us lucky ones at the front that get to talk…that’s why they pay us that extra buck remember?” she said to Megan. “Reset…one more people then we´ll have the scene” the director called, leading to a fresh series of groans from the queue. “Oh god here we go again” Kira muttered, stopping her dance and putting a hand over the crotch in a very obvious way totally unsuited to actually help her hold the lake of pee in her bladder. „Please hurry up i´ve been waiting soooo loooong!“
  8. Unknown104

    Discord's Dance

    Posted this to Tumblr a few weeks ago, figured it'd fit here too. All the characters are 18+ and anthro. --- "Mmm..." A single claw grazed across Celestia's midsection, rousing her from her sleep. Cobwebs and grogginess slowed her consciousness but the gears in her head began to turn. She turned over onto her back, the silky blanket tickling her skin. The room was covered in darkness, shadows cast from the moonlight shining through the bedroom window at the other side of the room. Soon enough, she would have to start her day and raise the sun. "Morning, Celly." Though, she still had some time. She glanced over, Discord laying on the other side of the bed. With a sly grin, her dragged the claw gently across her ribs, running back down to her thigh. She stifled a giggle, pressing her knees together. "Don't do that." "Why not?" His claw moved up her pelvis, stopping perfectly on top of her bladder. "It couldn't be because of this little thing, could it?" He pressed down on it gently, sending a dose of desperation through her. Her bladder was firm, pushing outwards an inch or two. She hadn't peed in two days. Somehow, Discord had managed to talk her into it, the mad man! "Of course not." She separated her knees, trying not to let the sheets move too much. "Would you like to be tickled the first thing when you wake up?" "Depends on the one doing it." He snickered. Celestia rolled her eyes, shuffling to sit up in her bed. Her nightgown pulled down as she moved up, the straps on her back becoming tight and the fabric around her bladder and breasts becoming tighter. She felt a rather strong urge, but she tried her best not to show it, only allowing herself a moment or two of squirming before she corrected the issue. "So," He sat up with her, wearing a white tank top of red boxers with white stripes. "How much longer do you think you can last?" Discord questioned. "Don't get me wrong- as much as I'd love to see that little bulge of yours get larger... Won't it interfere with things? Royal mumbo-jumbo and whatnot?" "It won't." Celestia stated. "Besides, it'd be more fun for the both of us if it did, wouldn't it? Who cares?" "You do have a point..." He grinned. "Is that a hint of rebelliousness I sense in little Mrs. Goodie Two-shoes?" "I'm getting it from you." She leaned over, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before she stood up. Her thighs pressed together almost immediately as the liquid in her bladder sloshed and squished around, instantly regretting her decision to stand up so fast. Discord chuckled at the sight. "Seems like that bladder isn't as strong as you let on. Maybe you won't be able to last as long as I tell you to." Her head shot back towards him, staring a hole through him. "It was a moment of weakness, nothing more!" Discord grinned. "Well, I suppose I should be getting back to Flutters' now." He stood up, grabbing his pair of jeans at the foot of the bed and pulling them on. "Same time tonight?" Celestia turned around. "You know it." Discord nodded. "Oh- almost forgot," He turned back to her, snapping his fingers. A full pot of tea sat on the carpet in front of Celestia's bare feet, with a small tea cup beside it, summoned by his draconequus magic. "Don't worry about cleaning it up, it'll disappear once you've finished it." He turned back around. "See you tonight, C!" In the blink of an eye. Discord had disappeared. Celestia bent down, picking the pot by the handle, swishing it around. It was full, right to the brim. At least I don't have to brew my own this morning... She rolled her eyes, grabbing the cup and pouring into it. Celestia walked over to the darkened part of the room, feeling around for her closet. After a few moments, her blind hands managed to find the familiar wooden doorknob. She sat the pot down, opening her closet. Per usual, she had already prepared her outfit the night beforehand. She pulled out a white dress and a small brown belt with a golden belt buckle. Lulu's probably tired by now, I probably shouldn't waste time. She tipped her head back and chugged the rest of the tea in her cup, setting it to the side. Celestia quickly pulled the the dress over her head, slipping her arms through the open straps, showing off her shoulders and collar. The dress went down a inch or two below her knees. As adventurous as she had become with Discord, she still didn't want to run the risk of a subject seeing her in such a state. Next, she grabbed hold of the belt, pulling it around her back and tightening it over her bladder. She winced slightly, her thighs pressing together for moment before she regained control. Mm, he is going to love this! She turned around, bending down to grab her socks and shoes. The buckle pressed into her bladder hard, giving her a jolt of pleasure and desperation. All that tea and water is sloshing around... But it won't be coming out. Not for a while. She bit her lip, the thought exciting her so much! I'll be good for Discord. I can wait until he let's me go. She slipped on a pair of socks and some small heels. Nothing major- perhaps a half inch or so. She closed her closet, feeling around the top of it. Eventually, she got her hands on to a small, handheld mirror. She checked face and hair, still as perfect as the day before. Just need to get through to tonight. My bladder can handle it. Celestia grabbed the pot and the cup before she headed towards the door, ready to start her day.
  9. Alex Oxford

    Bank Desperation

    Hey guys, I wanted to share cool little experience that I had the other day at the bank! I'm very quickly realizing that this bank is a prime location for desperation, which I think is hilarious (because, well, it's a bank). I recently lost my debit card, and I needed to get it replaced. While I had already cancelled the card, I needed to go in person in order to be able to get a temporary replacement card, considering the actual card would take a week to get to me. I walked in to the bank around lunch time, 12pm, and of course, there was quite a line at the tellers. I've seen a number of desperate tellers before, but at this moment, that couldn't have been further from my mind. My focus was on getting the card, getting out, and getting something to eat before my lunch was over. The fact that it was this busy here at the bank made me a little anxious that I might not have time to eat. I went up to the "sign in" table, and told the older woman sitting there that I would need to have a seat and they would call me when they were ready. There were only 3 people ahead of me, surprisingly, but only one person was in the cubicles handling customer service issues. I figured it might be a long wait for me. I was sitting for about 5 minutes when a blonde stepped out from behind the teller section through the sealed door. She was pretty, smiling, and on the curvier side. Not necessarily voluptuous, but she wore the weight very well in my opinion! She walked briskly and deliberately over to the cubicles, set up her work station, and called in the next person in the queue. They must have asked her to go and help, and they took her off the till to come over here. She handled the case very quickly, and the other representative had taken the person waiting in front of me. I was next in line, and when the blonde had taken care of her clients needs, she called me in. She was very sweet, very helpful, and had a good sense of humor. We were the same age. I told her that this was the 5th time in two years that I had misplaced my debit card (which is absolutely terribly true) and I told her, "losing debit cards is one of my favorite pastimes," something stupid like that 😛 she seemed to think it was funny because she laughed charmingly, and swiftly crossed her legs over each other while seated. She squeezed them together, visibly. And of course, I couldn't help but notice. Over the course of the next several minutes of small talk and basic service work, she continued to cross her legs, shift in her seat, and at one point, she was fanning her legs back and further. Fast, and she did this throughout the entire time we were there. To me, that was one of the most obvious signs of desperation I had ever seen. I can see her squirming and shifting her legs under the desk, and I was trying very hard not to show my arousal. As she stood up to walk across the cubicle to get my temporary card, I caught an eyeful of a nice, large butt, complimented by her surreptitiously crossing her legs and jiggling where she stood. I was having a hard time not staring. I asked her how her day was going when she sat back down. She said, "It's almost over, thank god. I've been working non stop for maybe an hour or more!" She rocked slightly in her chair and fanned her legs. She must have known that I noticed, but she did not show any facial signs of stress, on physical. The tone of her voice, and her expressions, suggested a composed banker. But her legs wriggling under her desk told me she must be bursting for a pee. Being the mischievous guy that I am, especially when I don't see blatant desperation like this every day, I decided to press a little more. I asked her if she had been able to take a break at all, and she told me no. I told her a short story about a friend of mine who works as a nurse, who once went 3 hours without a break, on a particularly busy St. Patrick's Day. My main intention was to stall her a little longer, the rustling of her tights under the desk as her legs slid back and forth restlessly constantly echoing in my ears. Surprisingly, she did not seem bothered or restless at all during our conversation. In fact, she went into details about her education, and that she had wanted to be a nurse years ago, but didn't feel like going to school for that long. She is now working on a bachelors in political science, and how she wants to work in government one day. The whole time, I could see her swiveling in her chair, back and forth. Her legs were lightly bouncing up and down as she pressed them together. Her hands stayed on the table, but she started getting a little fidgety with her pen, toying with it as her legs moved slowly but constantly under the table. I couldn't imagine how full her bladder must have been, but certainly enough for her to cross her legs and squeeze them together. We wrapped up our conversation as she added my PIN to the card, and she even joked with me that she had plenty left for the next time I lose my card. I laughed, and so did she. I shook her hand, and walked out, only to see a crowd of 5 people or so in the lobby, waiting to be served. She was going to be busy for a minute.
  10. First of all, sorry for my bad englisch, i`ll try my best. This is another experience from my youth. It was my first experience where i had active the chance to make a girl hold her full bladder. My parents invited the daughter of one of their friends, to spend some days of her ester holidays with us. She was a kind of cousin to me and she was at the same age as i was. She lived with her parents in a little village at the country and i should show her the city where we lived, it was a big city. My parents was at work for the first 3 days, so we had time from morning till 6 pm, for sightseeing. I wanted to show her all buildings and all sights of the city, but i was sure that she would not see even one loo all day long, from early morning till evening. I had so many questions to my self, how long would it take till she need to pee, how long would she hold it before she tells me that she need to go and how long would she be able to hold it in, if i don`t let her go, if i don`t give her a opportunity. The poor girl did not know what i wanted to do with her, that i wanted to test her bladder and her ability to hold it and that i wanted nothing more than to see her desperate to pee, really, really bad. On our first day, we did get up at 7 am at the morning, she had her morning pee at this time, we had breakfast and we did leave at about 8.30 am. I did not give her much time, so she did not pee again before we started our sightseeing. At noon we had a quick lunch on a kiosk, we had to eat, to drink, but no loo for her. At about 1pm she said "i need to wee, do you know where i could go?" Sure i did know where she could go, but this was the last place what i wanted to show her, so i said "sorry, but there is no loo around here. It was so exciting for me, to walk beside a beautiful girl, to know that her bladder was full, to know that she needed to pee and to make her wait and hold. She was to shy to aske again for a loo, but it was more and more difficult for her to hide her need. At about 3 pm we had to wait at red traffic lights, she could not stand still anymore, she rubbed her knees, she crossed her legs, she was bending over and looked shy at me and said "i am sorry, but i need to wee sooo bad, you can`t imagine how urgent i need a loo" "You are a big girl, i think you can hold it until we are at home, only 3 hours more" i answered and told her one experience from a group of 4 girls, from our school, they did always hold it on school day trips, all day long even the days was long. They peed at home before and than when they was back. She wanted to know, why i did know that and i told her that they did talk about it, especially in the bus on the way home, they did talk about how bad they would need to go und how difficult it would be to keep the panty dry, but they always was able to hold it. I said to "my" girl, if they could endure that, i am sure that she can endure that too. 3 more hours at the first day and 2 full days, to test the bladder of the girl. to continue
  11. Teen Annie pee desperation on road 1 minute trailer video. Annie_Trailer.mp4
  12. Alltheomorashi

    It’s a Wet World After All

    Catie has been excited for this trip to DisneyWorld for months. The semester had dragged on for ages but her boyfriend, Harry, had promised that the minute she got home for the summer he’d take her. They were high school sweethearts and even though their respective colleges weren’t too far apart and they still saw each other relatively often, long distance was hard. So Catie was excited. She quickly got out of bed and showered humming Disney tunes the whole time. She got to her room and put on a pair of light blue panties and a white bra. Over that she put on a pair of jean shorts and a pink shirt. She finally finished the look with a pair of pink Mickey Mouse ears she’d purchased the last time she’d gone to Disney. Satisfied with how she looked she made her way downstairs where her parents were already eating breakfast. Catie laughed when she noticed her father had made pancakes in the shape of Mickey Mouse. “In honor of your trip!” he told her chuckling. Catie graciously ate them and then washed it down with a glass of orange juice. “When is Harry picking you up?” her mother asked. Catie checked the clock. “He should be here in about fifteen minutes,” she said. “Do you want some coffee while you wait?” her mother offered. “Sure!” Catie sipped on her coffee and chatted idly until she heard the doorbell ring. She then excitedly hopped up and raced to the door, opening it. On the other side stood Harry. He looked handsome in his jeans and tee shirt and seemed just as eager to see Catie as she was to see him. They hugged and briefly kissed after exchanging greetings before Catie let him into the house. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Baker. How are you?” Harry asked. “We’re doing well sweetheart. Excited for your trip?” Catie’s mother responded. “Yes very!” he grinned. Meanwhile Carrie quickly ran back upstairs to grab a drawstring bag before returning. “Ok I’m ready to go,” she announced upon returning to the kitchen. “Great. Nice seeing you Mr. and Mrs. Baker!” Harry said as he and Catie waved goodbye and went to get in Harry’s car. The drive was relatively short and before they knew it they were parking the car. Catie felt the first stirrings of her bladder after all she’d had to drink during breakfast. She figured she would go while Harry waited in line to buy the tickets but he happily alerted her that he had already bought them online and so instead they made their way directly to the entry line. Catie forgot about her bladder entirely once they entered the park. Her eyes filled with wonder. She had been here many times before but each and every time filled her with immense joy all the same. “Let’s get on a rollercoaster first!” she exclaimed excitedly as she grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and eagerly started to pull him along in that direction. Harry laughed and fondly shook his head as he followed behind her. They picked one of the rollercoasters with the smallest line although even that was long. Not that either of them was surprised, it was Disney during the summer. It took about an hour for them to finally get to the front and Catie once again felt a stir in her bladder. She thought nothing of it though and simply stepped into the car of the coaster next to Harry and strapped in. The rollercoaster took off at an intense speed, shaking, jostling, and jerking Catie, Harry, and the other passengers around. They all yelled out in delight as the coaster continued to rock them. However, after one particularly hard turn, Catie felt herself spurt a little bit into her panties. It startled her a little bit but a quick look down confirmed it wasn't nearly enough to show anything on her shorts. When they get off the ride Catie was certainly more aware of her bladder. She wasn’t desperate but she certainly was no longer completely comfortable. “Hey Harry I’m going to run to the bathroom quickly,” she said. She left her things with Harry and then went over only to find a long line. She sighed and joined the line but after several minutes the line had barely moved and Catie gavebup. “I don’t really have to go anyway,” she reasoned as she abandoned the line and returned to Harry, who now had two drinks in hand. “Hey! I figured you might be thirsty since it’s so hot out,” he said. Despite her misgivings, Carrie accepted it and took a large sip. He wasn’t wrong about it being hot out and despite her slowly filling bladder she was getting dehydrated. “So I thought we could do It’s a Small World next. It’s not too far from here and I’m not as adventurous as you. I need breaks between rollercoasters!” Harry said. Catie laughed but agreed anyway and the two walked to the aforementioned line. When they got there, a sign at the end of the line read “Wait two hours long from this point.” “That’s pretty long. We can go somewhere else if you want,” Harry offered. “No it’s alright! All of the lines are going to be long and you wanted to get on this one. I’m fine to wait,” Catie assured him. So wait they did. The line trudged slowly along as the two talked and sipped their drinks to pass the time. Before she knew it, Catie had finished off her drink entirely so she tossed the now empty cup into one of the nearby trash cans. Shortly afterwards she was suddenly reminded of her bladder. The drink was just starting to trickle in to what had already been filling. Suddenly instead of just a distant tingling she was actively uncomfortable and her bladder was starting to feel heavy. She started to run back through her day. She had had that glass of orange juice, the coffee, and now she had polished off the drink Jason gave her. That was quite a bit of liquid she had ingested without giving her bladder a chance to void it. She tried to refocus on her conversation with Harry as a distraction but her bladder’s nagging was consistent now. She pressed her thighs tighter together and prayed that would be enough to prevent her from having an accident. For awhile that was enough but by the time they had stepped into the building where the ride was housed just pressing her legs together was no longer doing the trick. Harry seemed oblivious to her struggle, too wrapped up in telling her the story of his first time ever riding on It’s a Small World. Meanwhile Catie resorted to crossing her legs and trying not to bounce up and down. “I need to get to a bathroom now,” she thought but looking around there were none and they were way too far ahead in line for her to get out now. So all she could do was sit there and to try to contain the heavy weight in her abdomen. Only once she started squirming a little more earnestly did Harry notice. “Are you alright love?” he asked her, concern in his voice. “Yes I’m fine,” she responded putting as much false cheer into it as possible. Harry gave her a dubious look but dropped it. “She’ll tell me if it’s something really bad,” he thought. They finally get to the point where they’re next in line and while that should be reassuring to Catie she almost cried when she remembered one key thing: It’s A Small World is a water ride. The sound of the water lapping against the sides of the track and the boats was torture on her poor bladder. “At least it will be easier to hold once I am seated,” she told herself. Harry let her into the boat first but stepping down required opening up her legs and Catie immediately felt herself lose a spurt into her panties. She quickly sat down after that and moved so she was seated in the corner before immediately crossing her legs. Harry once again shot her a concerned and suspicious glance but respected that she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Instead of saying anything he simply stepped into the boat as well. Soon they were off. The boat began to slowly make its way down the watery path and the signature song began to play. Harry delightedly looked around at the dancing puppets, trying to name each country they represent. Meanwhile, Catie was barely paying any attention at all to the ride. The sounds of the water around her felt louder than everything else. She couldn’t help but squirm in her seat as she tried to keep from flooding her shorts. “I forgot how fucking long this ride is!” she thought frantically. She felt herself spurt again and quickly jammed her hands into her crotch to stop another leak from forcing its way out, groaning as she did so. This caught Harry’s attention. He turned to look at her then took in her trembling legs, twisted up together like a pretzel, her hands gripping her crotch as if her life depended on it, and the tension she was carrying in her lower body. He suspected he knew what the problem was. “Catie, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, trying to be quiet so the other riders in their boat wouldn’t hear. “I really have to pee. I’ve had to since awhile ago when we were in line,” she confessed with a trembling voice. Harry gave her a sympathetic look, “It’s alright you can do it. We’ll get you to the bathroom the second we get off this ride. Ok?” he soothed her. She nodded her head but wasn’t positive she would even last that long. Catie’s squirming only got worse as the ride progressed. She could no longer sit still for even a moment, constantly wiggling and grinding down into the seat in a desperate attempt to hold it in. Her grip on her crotch had somehow gotten even tighter. Harry tried to be encouraging, every so often telling her that it was alright and she could make it. Catie appreciated the support but the longer the ride lasted the less she believed him. Soon it was the beginning of the end. She felt herself leak for a solid few seconds before she could stop it. “H...Harry it’s starting to come out,” she stuttered with a whimper. “It’s okay baby not too much longer. You can hold it, I know you can,” he tried to assure her. “I can’t though, I can’t,” she insisted. She started to tear up as she leaked a second time, this time for even longer. She was sure there must be a wet patch on her shorts by now. Finally the floodgates fully released. Catie released her crotch to bring her hands up to cover her face as she finally lost the battle against her bladder. Piss rushed out of her and the hissing noise of it exiting her strained urethra could just faintly be heard underneath the cheery music. Piss puddled in the seat before cascading down to the ground below as Catie soaked her jean shorts. Feeling absolutely helpless as his girlfriend completely lost control, Harry pet her hair and rubbed her back through it in an attempt to comfort her. Eventually Catie’s flow stopped and tapered off. Harry could faintly hear her crying so he quickly tried to reassure his girlfriend. “Hey baby it’s ok. It’s ok. Here, look at me,” he said, gently pulling her hands away from her face and then his hand on her chin to make her look at him. His heart filled with sympathy for his poor embarrassed girlfriend as he looked at her tear stained face. “It’s ok, Catie. Accidents happen. It’s not a big deal,” he assured her. She nodded her head silently. By the time the ride ended, Catie’s shorts had begun to get cold and clammy. Harry got out first then reached down to help her out as well. She couldn’t help but take a look back at the boat. Her face flamed red when she noticed how large the puddle both in the seat and on the floor was. “Hey don’t look at it, come on,” Harry told her, tugging her along. Quite a few of the people in line whispered and snickered when they saw the state of Catie’s shorts as she walked past but many more simply gave her sympathetic looks. Harry quickly ushered her away until they were clear of the building. “I’m sorry” Catie weakly offered. “Hey don’t be sorry. I tell you what, let’s go in one of the gift shops and see if we can buy you some new shorts to wear ok?” he told her, still speaking gently as if afraid to spook her. “Ok,” Catie quietly responded. “Everything’s going to be okay Catie,” Harry told her confidently with a smile as he began to pull her away towards the shops. A small smile appeared on Catie’s face. “How did I get so lucky?” she wondered. “I love you Harry,” she told him. “I love you too Catie.”
  13. This is a rough draft of something I was writing though stopped due to getting sidetracked and I wasn't entirely sure where I want to take this either. I might come back around to cleaning it up with writing the whole thing in past tense as it jumps around from past and present. Though posting this just because I'd assume someone might want to read it here. Note, sergals are a species from a fantasy universe known as Vilous. Appearance wise, they can be described by looking somewhat like a fur covered raptor/shark. More info about them can be found on the official wiki if wanted. Image for their appearances from the wiki too. Link (SFW) Some background info of the story, the setting takes place with there being a chess tournament going on, Blue entered the game and her friend Jennifer tagged along too. She's up for a long night ahead of her with countless drinks and most likely no bathroom break in sight either. Blue is a sergal, and Jennifer is a human. A Night to Remember This was the first chess tournament Blue attended to, and she was having the time of her life so far. Everything was great, so she thought. On the outside for the sergal everything seemed pretty usual, though on the inside her bladder for sure wasn’t playing along quite well. Blue was an unordinary sergal for reasons most wouldn’t expect. Her body was rather slender, though a bit short for her species, lastly with a red coat of fur covering her too. Her deep love for holding back from the bathroom wasn’t known by any, but this was the night things were going to change. It was a cold summer evening, Blue just won her third round of chess with what felt like little effort. She even had a bit of a gathering watching her play by now too, which excited her somewhat. The last few hours of the night she’s been going through water almost at the same rate she was breathing in oxygen. Well, not quite that quick, but still enough to polish off a half litre bottle every thirty minutes to the dot. Given the third game was over now Blue got a bit of time to rest her mind and be to herself, not having to think of moves to defeat her opponents left her mind wandering, which eventually turned her attention to that growing need in her bladder. “Has it really been that long?” She thought, the tournament did start nearly three hours ago, meaning the sergal downed a little more than three full litres of cold liquid. From how much she was concentrating earlier nearly all that excess fluid went practically straight to her bladder. Working through her system until her kidneys did their jobs pumping more urine into her swelling bladder. Where she sat now, she was comfortable, though had a growing need. The only apparent sign to those looking over at her was the fact her grey tank-top was a bit more taut around her lower midsection, though that didn’t raise any questions quite yet. Blue excuses herself from the table to head over to the commons room, first talking with some friends that were attending to the event, before taking a moment to fill up her water bottle. She also grabs a one litre Coca Cola to crack open and sip on now. Given the fact she was standing and not seated, the bulge caused by her bladder on her midsection was more obvious. Blue attended the event with a close friend too which knew about her inner desires to hold, which will turn out to be a great mistake for her. Her friend, Jennifer was no stranger to this feat of Blue. Jennifer noticed Blue’s cola, ‘helping’ her by grabbing a few more bottles to carry around with the sergal. “Hey hey, good job on those first few matches! You sure did end up with quite a gathering watching you during that last game.” Jennifer said to Blue, reaching around her friend to briefly rub her hand against Blue’s midsection. Blue was a bit caught off guard as she was somewhat zoned out just having that cola, having finished half of the bottle now. That faint rub against her bladder made her huff just a bit, but she kept her cool. Snapping back into it the sergal turns her attention to her friend, facing the human. Even looking straight on at her, it was apparent for sure that Blue’s bladder was quite full. Her tank-top looked rather taut over her midsection, while her jeans even dug into her belly just a bit too. “Oh, thanks. I’m glad you were able to make it here, lots of faces I’m not familiar with around here makes me a bit nervous.” She admitted, her eyes wandered to the bottles Jennifer held, though for now Blue did what she could to pretend she didn’t see them. The growing pressure in her bladder was starting to get to her if just a bit by now. The earlier drinks counting up to be a few litres of urine sitting in her vault of a bladder, which was only filling more and more every moment that passed. “Yeah I can see why, although, here. I brought you something that should help you focus better maybe.” Jennifer ruffled through her backpack for a few moments before pulling out a litre sized bottle that was unlabeled. The fluid was a rather dark, metallic-like colour inside it, weighing down the bottle a considerable bit too.
  14. I have started a historical omo fic inspired by a suggestion by Ola93 set in ancient Rome. It will include pee and poop desperation (male and female), wetting but not excessive messing, and finding alternative ways of relief. There´s also be intrigue and a bit of sexual stuff, including weird fetishes...its Rome, after all;) The prologue got a little away from me, but here it is, i hope you enjoy! „Why do I need to pee now….“ Lavinia thought miserably, fighting the urge to cross her legs as she eyed the grim-looking overseer standing behind her holding a short cane that she knew would be brought down on her back or buttocks if she gave in to the impulse. She sighed and put her gaze back forward to were a small group of wealthy citizens stood by tables bearing fruit, sweetmeats and wine, looking over in her direction from time to time. Forcing a thin smile on her lips, she tried to adjust her stance to both appear energetic as the old woman in the slave quarters had instructed her, and press her tights against one another enough to avoid fidgeting, or, worse, losing control over her filling bladder. She shuddered inwardly thinking of the consequences that would undoubtedly bring – a savage beating, for starters, followed by a trip back to the slave quarters and then, at night, to the slave auction at the night harbour where the only prospect of employment for girls were a labour chain gang in a field or a cheap brothel. Neither offered anything but pain, exhaustion and a quick death and so Lavinia held her pose, smiled and prayed to the gods to keep her from that fate. Stood in a row on either side of her were several other girls, most around her own age, dressed in simple but elegant tunics shortened enough to show off their legs. She knew that she wasn´t the youngest, tallest of prettiest of the girls and it made her feel doubtful of her chances. Also, she thought sadly, most wealthy senators preferred exotic household slaves from the far corners of the empire, not simple italic girls like her. As she stood, willing her bladder to stop filling, she noticed another of the girls subtly slide one leg a little in front of the other and press them together. She even made it look graceful, Lavinia thought, but then with athletic legs like these everything probably looked sexy. She was a bit jealous of the dark-skinned girl but at least she wasn´t the only one that had overestimated her bladder capacity and followed the old woman´s advice to drink plenty of water for the auction to “keep hydrated and appear healthy”. Her own bladder was small and she frequently had to urinate, but she´d never had to hold still for so long while full. As time passed, the attending patrons looked at them less and less, focusing instead on the food and especially the wine, sparing the girls only occasional glances. Why did they insist on keeping them posing for ages when they probably picked their preference with the first, lust-filled glance, Lavinia thought bitterly. Still, to become the household slave of a wealthy roman senator or merchant was the best fate that any girl born or forced into slavery could wish for. It meant living in either a villa in Rome or on a large estate somewhere in the surrounding countryside, enough food, clean clothes, and easy work – if you didn´t count the diverse and, from rumours in the slave quarters, apparently endlessly diverse and outlandish sexual favours routinely of slave girls from their patrons, either for themselves or given as rewards to friends or followers. Still – it was better than ending in a soldier´s brothel at the fringes of the empire, neglected and used night after night into a early grave. The thoughts almost brought tears into her eyes again and she blinked, forcing the thoughts from her mind. She was here, now, and she would survive. She could deal with servicing men if asked of her and besides, if the rumours were true, very few of the favours household slave girls performed were traditional sex anyway. They were supposed to be the things that the patrons didn´t want to become known outside their household, private secrets shared with nobody and indulged in with those they owned and controlled. She smiled. If that was the price she would pay it – how bad could it really be? Nothing that a girl wouldn´t endure living in the Suburna, the slums of Rome, even should she manage to remain a free woman or even become a roman citizen. No, doing things like that for men was just what life was like until – or rather unless – you found a gentle, caring man like her father. But her mother had told her years ago, when she started coursing, that these things would be expected of a girl. She´d also told her that it gave her power. Power over the men that craved those things, and that a girl had to wield that power carefully. And, Lavinia had resolved a month ago when she was made a slave following her parents death at the hands of bandits that burned down their little farm, wield it she would. Looking at the assembled patrons, she smiled more now, not a smile of joy, but of bitterness and resolve. She would have her revenge. She could not fight, could not use force, so she would use her mind and her body. She knew that a slave girl called upon indulging their master in sexual fantasies meant that she would know a secret few, if any, others would know, giving her incredible power. But it needed to be used carefully. It was too easy to just dispose and replace a slave. No – it was not as simple as doing whatever was asked and then using blackmail. She´d need to be subtle – and devoted. She´d do whatever the secret was so well, so good, that her master would not want to get rid of her when she decided to wield the power. It would take time and resolve – but she had both, for the anger burned deep within her. She only hoped the tools she´d have to use on her road to revenge wasn´t too depraved. Her thoughts were interrupted by another urgent signal form her bladder protesting at the enforced stillness while full. She flinched slightly and slowly pressed her legs closer together, hoping nobody was looking at her just that moment as she had to take a slight step with her left foot to press it against the other. Ahh – what a slight movement could help with the need to pee! She blushed slightly and smiled, a genuine smile this time, and looked ahead again – and froze. From the back row, a middle-aged man dressed in a simple white, blue rimmed stola was staring straight at her, smiling. Lavinia felt her cheeks burn more brightly and forced herself not to look back directly at him, knowing that a single comment from any of the patrons could get a girl sent away instantly. Breathing deeply, she risked another glance at the man and found him still looking at her. Something in his expression was strangely calming, she thought. He wasn´t leering like most of the men had been when the girls started to pose, but seemed to be studying her. Emboldened, she dared to flash him a smile. That had been another piece of advice the old woman had given them. If you see a patron interested in you, do your best to charm him. She´d given other advice, good advice, born of a lifetime as a slave. Few slave women ever reached her age and Lavinia had marvelled at the serenity of the woman, considering what she must have endured. “Life is too precious to waste wanting and longing”, she had said and smiled. “You make your own way any way you can, and find a way to be happy. If you´re happy, it matters little if you´re a slave, and if you´re unhappy, all the money in the world will not help you.” Tall words, but Lavinia thought they made sense – as had all the other advice. Well, almost all, she thought, feeling her bladder protest at the amount of water still flowing through her. THAT advice might be her doom. “Honoured patrons, I trust that you have had ample time to survey the goods!” The owner of Rome´s most exclusive slave auction house smiled grandly as he entered, gaudily dressed in a multi-coloured stola and tunic. “You will now be able to make any requests you may before we settle the auction.” Lavinia sighed again, hoping the requests wouldn´t prove too much for her poor bladder. The first request was almost a given – that the girls bare their chests to let the patrons ogle their breasts. Lavinia glanced left and right, envious of the much larger breasts all the other girls had, and felt her fortunes sink again. The second request almost made Lavinia giggle, for a overweight senator wanted to look at the girls feet in detail. No harm there – feet were a common enough fetish and something that no girl would mind, she was sure. She hoped she was bought by him, but by the way he stared at the legs of the petite Hispanic girl next to her she thought that was overly optimistic. The old woman had told the girls that the requests would be tame, as none of the patrons would dare to expose their fetishes to the others, since they were, by default, rivals who would use such information mercilessly. And she proved to be right – again – as they went through a series of easy and only vaguely sexual insinuations – licking honey off a stick was her favourite. Only once did Lavinia hesitate slightly, when they were requested to touch each other´s breasts. As she turned to the Hispanic girl who, even though she was almost a hand shorter than she, had almost double her breast size, she knew she was expected to enjoy it. Taking a breath and returning the other girl´s smile, she slowly cupped one of her breasts and ran her thumb around the big dark nipple, marvelling at her soft touch, then flinching as she felt the girls hand run over her own nipple. She felt a flutter of excitement and thought how strange that was, and then It was over. She´d almost wished it would be longer, since it had allowed her to cross her legs while turning. Behind the Hispanic girl she could also see the dark-skinned girl with crossed legs as well, her hips moving in obvious desperation. She must have an even smaller bladder than me, Lavinia mused as she turned back into her pose with considerable difficulty. “Are there any more requests?” The owner asked, still smiling. After a few moments, the patron that had caught Lavinia´s throat cleared his throat. “I would like them to stand with their legs spread for a little while” he said with the same serene smile, eyes on the dark-skinned girl. “Damn”, Lavinia thought, she´d hoped her brief moment of eye contact had won her points, before registering what he´d said. “Oh no…” she thought bleakly as she spread her legs with a sharp intake of breath. As she held the position, she had to fight with all her strength not to pee right then and there. “Oh gods let it be over soon…” she could hardly believe her misfortune. How on earth was this turning anybody on? She didn´t know and couldn´t think of anything beside her desperate desire to pee. The girls next to her seemed fine, they either had bigger bladders or not drunk as much, but leaning forward ever so slightly Lavinia could just see the dark-skinned girl visibly shake. “She´s not gonna hold it…” she thought and turned her eyes front where everyone was staring at the struggling girl now who gave a silent whimper followed by a long, guttural moan as there was a loud hissing sound followed by her pent-up pee hitting the floor. “Oh gods this is torture” Lavinia moaned inwardly, listening to the girl sob as she peed down her legs while being forcefully grabbed by the overseer and hauled back off the stage. Lavinia closed her eyes and clenched every muscle she could as she felt a few drops leak out of her pussy. “This is it..its over” she though, ready to give up, when the owner said “Alright we will start the auction now. Please put your bids in the respective bowls by the girls feet.” Lavinia gasped as she quickly closed her legs, first crossing them HARD for a few moments before managing to put them apart with one slightly in front of the other, pressing together. As she opened her eyes again she saw the patron watching her again and she thought she saw him nod at her gently as she struggled to keep control after her ordeal. Bowls were put at the feet of each girl and the patrons started putting in small chits with numbers scratched on them, indicating their bid. She received only a few chits, including the overweight patron and she hoped that she´d go to that one. But when the other patron came down to place a chit in only her bowl and smiled up at her, she involuntarily smiled back. The bidding was mercifully short and one by one the owner went through each of the bowls, announcing the winning bidders. Lavinia barely followed this as she was struggling to keep from leaking too badly, unable to keep small leaks from escaping. Thankfully in pressing her legs together she´d trapped on of the inner folds of her tunic between them and it was soaking up the leaks. Finally the owner reached her bowl and went through the pitiful 4 chits, grimacing at the low bids until he looked at the last one. Turning towards the attentive patron, he asked “Are you sure this is no mistake? This price is outrageous even for me exclusive establishment…” At the simple nod and smile from the patron he shrugged and indicated him as the winner. “Outrageous price?” Lavinia thought. “For me?” She couldn´t fathom what she had done to deserve a high bid, especially not when compared to the other girls. “Come” the patron simply said, indicating for her to follow. Lavinia gladly obeys, glad at being able to move and rub her thighs together. But how was she going to relieve herself? She thought with a sinking feeling as she felt another leak escape her tired bladder. If she didn´t get to a latrine soon she´d embarrass herself and surely upset her new master. She followed him out of the villa, taking smaller and smaller steps as she struggled to keep up. Her face was red with exertion and she felt increasingly larger leaks as she forced herself to walk behind the man, until finally she was sure she would wet herself, when he suddenly stopped, turned and looked at her for a moment before pointing at a wooden door. “Relieve yourself and you can begin your duties” he said simply. “Thank…Thank you master” Lavinia managed, hobbling over and opening the door to what turned out to be the slaves latrines. 2 of the seats were occupied, one by a male servant watching her with an amused smile as Lavinia hiked up her tunic and collapsed on the seat next to where the old woman was peeing. “Oh gods” Lavinia gasped and then stifled a moan of pure relief as her pent-up pee shot out of her aching pussy and down the hole under her. She peed quickly, her small bladder soon empty, and remained seated for a moment. “I bet that felt good” the old woman said, smiling at her. “Remember what I told you, and be happy, child.” Lavinia smiled as she stood up, careful to adjust her tunic so the wet fold was safely hidden from view. At the door, she turned back to the woman “Thank you”. She said and exited to find the man smiling at her. “Fell better?” he asked? And returned her smile, walking out of the building with Lavinia following.
  15. Dear collegues, I just had a nice pee desperaiton play today on Russian (not anymore) webchat Runetki. I found a nice young and skinny latina... And had a chat with her. Here how I started . I had prepared text and just copy paste it in chat: Hi, I want to play with you. I have rare fantasy. I like golden showers fetish games. I offer you 300 tk for 1.5 hour game. Are you interested to see the rules? Drink 1.5 liters of water (as fast as possible)- 50 tk. Pee in container (in pravate chat) - 50 tk. Then hold your pee for 1.5 hours and be always on camera - 150 tk. Pee in container (in pravate chat) - 50 tk. Total 300 tk. + tips. Her answer was: I will do what ever you want. So please find attached a link to a videcap. https://yadi.sk/i/qiVg_cVA7Tpd_Q Just a pice of advice . Latina girls are willing to do whatever you ask for small money. Sorry to say this but this is reality. So if you chose to do the same as I did please chose skinny nice looking young girl with fewer people on the line with her meaning not from the top of the page and you will get everthing... With mine was only 10 people on the line so she basically work mainly for me, because I was tipping 20+ and others ony 1. Alexey Moscow Russia P.S. Please share some content with us.
  16. Red Simpson

    The Grand Tour goes Omo?

    In Season 3 episode 11 there's a moment where Clarkson, Hammond and May all have to drink 3 glasses of water and then wait 20 minutes then they drive around a track in Georgia to see if their lap times improve due to them having full bladders. If you haven't seen I'd watch it as it is just hilarious and it ends with one in the toilet, one desperately holding himself and the other having an accident off camera but you can see the outcome. If you haven't watched it I'd like you to guess on who made it, who had to wait and who had the accident.
  17. There is a list of people I’d like to thank before we get to the story. I’d like to thank @Bulge_Lover for being my editor and inspiring me to write medieval themed stories. Had it not been for him, I would have never taken to writing about medieval stuff. He has always been there for me and motivated me whenever I needed it. Thank you so much my friend! Your advice has always proved to be helpful. Thank you so much for everything. It wouldn’t have been possible without you! I’d like thank @KozmoFox for reviewing my work when it was still at a nascent stage. Thank you so much! You are an inspiration and your guidance was really helpful! I got to learn so much from you. Thank you! It wouldn’t have been possible without you! Thank you @OmoCommando for editing the first part of this story for me. You were truly kind and helpful and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for helping me with my work. I’d like to thank @holditin for always inspiring me with his works and giving me the strength to believe that I can write whatever I love to write. Thank you so much buddy! You truly are an inspiration! And in the end, I’d like to thank @full-bladder12 for always motivating me and pushing me to keep writing omorashi! Thank you so much for supporting my work! I owe you big time! Thank you! Coming to the story, it is the sequel to my previous work, A Song of Swords, which I’m sure some of you might have read. It has a medieval setup which means it highly underlines the medieval practice of violence, though I promise you it was all necessary for the story. The story is built upon the base of the great fantasy works famous throughout the world, which will be evident once you begin the journey. These great works of literature have always inspired me and I’ve always wanted my work to be a reflection of them. I hope I’ve done justice to the great writers who have written these stories and to my readers as well. ---------------------------------- The Rains Of War CHAPTER- I THE CITY OF THE GODS The loud cry of warhorns, the screech and thud of catapults tossing stones, the crashes and splinters, the crackle of burning pitch, the fling of scorpions releasing their iron headed shafts, the ceaseless clangour of bells... and with it all, the cries of dying men. The sounds of battle pervaded the halls of the King’s Fort, where in a bunker the trestle tables were filled with the highborn ladies of the city, along with a handful of old men and young boys. The Queen had promised they all would be safe here. She sat on the high dais with her son, Prince Iwan. Her gown had a shade of green, like the colour of the sea after a storm. Her hair was tied in a bun and around her slender neck hung a rope of diamonds and emeralds. She signalled for her mug of beer to be refilled while the others quietly went at their broth. They had been here since morning, since the first report of the advancing enemy had reached the castle, praying to the mother as their husbands, sons, fathers, brothers and nephews prepared for battle. Though silence prevailed in the room, the air was heavy with fear, Queen Charlotte could sense it. If they were to lose this war, the Daltons would not spare even a single one of them. They had been raiding her father’s lands ever since she had managed to slip out of their clutches almost a year ago. Towns were brutally sacked, the buildings burned, the bodies of men, women and children butchered in the streets and left as fodder for rats and carrion crows. The long struggle had left the Torrington forces tired, beaten and broken trying to defend their lands from the enemy’s incessant onslaught. For long now, the Queen had worried about what would happen if Lord Reynard decided to march for Godswick. There was nothing to stop him from taking the city and the throne, and now all her fears were coming true. The attack she had dreaded for so long was at last at hand. The news of the approaching Dalton army had incited terror in the city streets. Thousands of smallfolk had streamed out the city gates in these past few days, carrying their children and their worldly possessions on their backs to seek safety in the country side, while others dug pits and tunnels under their hovels, dark clammy holes where they hoped to hide whilst the city burned. Riots had broken out all over the city as mobs surged through the streets, looting as they went. Hundreds died in stampedes, women were raped, and young ones had been plucked from their mothers’ breasts. The city guard lost over a hundred of their men trying to control the crowd. The Queen had ordered the city gates to be closed and barred days ago, sending watchmen to the walls and dispatching pigeons to Longford, carrying a message for her brother Walter, pleading him to come to her aid at once. As well, she had commanded pigeons to be sent to all the lords loyal to the crown, summoning them to the defence of their Queen, but most of them were afraid to stand against the Daltons and those who weren’t had already been put to sword. The city stood defenceless, like a lamb before a pack of wolves and the fate of the crown now rested in the hands of the almighty. The broth was followed by a salad of diced red-skinned apples, celery, grapes, chopped walnuts and yogurt. However scared, the guests ate whatever was served to them, though not the Queen, her plate was left untouched. After the salad came roast fowl, served along with frumenty and cabbage pottage, trailed by mutton roasted with leeks and carrots, served in trenchers of hollowed bread along with chicken covered with yolks and sprinkled with spices. The war raged outside the city walls till late at night. Thousands lost their lives, some only their arms or legs. The city was an image of blood, mud, fire and smoke. Arrows, rocks, screams and curses flew freely in the air. The guardians of the city fought bravely till the wee hours of morning but when the tide of the battle started turning in favour of the Daltons, their courage deserted them. Many threw down their weapons and ran, many yielded, but the most devastating blow to the city came when the captains commanding the twelve gates were murdered by their own men. A bit of coin had weakened the loyalty of those who were thought to be the city’s protectors. The city gates were opened to the Dalton army. For all the vaunted strength of its walls, Godswick fell in less than a day. A bloody fight waged at one of the gates where a few knights and men-at-arms still loyal to the crown tried to fight the enemies and hold against attacks both from inside the city and out, but their courage was for vain as Lord Reynard’s army poured in through the other gates unmolested. The realization that they were vastly outnumbered took the heart out of the Queen’s men. When they saw that resistance was futile, the members of the royal council surrendered the keys to the castle, bowing their heads in defeat, and ordered the knights and men-at-arms to lay down their swords. Though he had conquered the city, Lord Reynard’s triumph was far from complete. The Dalton soldiers stormed the castle and killed everyone they could find. But when they broke down the doors of the bunker they only found a flock of frightened women. The Queen had fled with her son, along with the knights Barnabus Ricaud, Mark Ambrose, and Robyn Hawksworth of the Queensguard. Not even the members of the council seemed to know where they had gone, and none had seen them pass through the city gates. CHAPTER- II WELCOME Rain lashed at Charlotte's face as she spurred her horse across the swollen stream. Beside her, Sir Mark gave the reins a tug and his mount neighed in response. A cold wind made the trees dance and sent the wet leaves flapping around them. She looked back at Iwan and hoped he could keep up. Though the Prince was now all of eleven, he still was not a good rider even in fair weather, and a whole day of rain had left the ground muddy with hidden rocks. The wind brought the water right into Charlotte’s eyes. Her wet clothes clung to her sodden and itching, her butt sore after the long ride. The sound of steady wash of rain against leaves filled her ears. It was mid-afternoon, yet the forest seemed as dark as dusk. All the beer and water she had drunk since yesterday sloshed inside her cavernous bladder, yet she rode on without a thought of it. Even now she felt no more than a slight urge for relief. The cold air made her shivery and her fingers felt stiff, she longed for a fire and a little tea to warm her. They wove a path between rocks and puddles, past great oaks, grey-green sentinels, and black-barked ironwoods. In places the branches wove a canopy overhead and she found a moment's respite from the drumming of the rain against her head. From a distance, she could see the massive walls and stout towers of Tilsworth. Green banners flew from its battlements, displaying the graceful golden deer of its lord. Lord Gilbert Furnival had been a loyal support to her father and had followed him into many wars without doubts or questions. She knew he would protect her and her son. When they got close enough a knight rode out to meet them. His armour was grey, but his cloak was the rippling green and black of Tilsworth. “Who goes there? State your purpose.” “Sir Mark Ambrose, with Her Highness Queen Charlotte and Prince Iwan,” the Queensguard answered. The knight lifted his visor. “I thought the lady looked familiar. It is a pleasure to have you both here, my Queen and my Prince,” he bowed. “May we enter the castle?” Sir Barnabus asked. The knight nodded in agreement. “In the name of Robert Furnival, Lord of Tilsworth, I bid you enter freely, and charge you to keep his peace.” “Robert?” Charlotte’s voice sounded her confusion, “I’m here to meet Lord Gilbert, his father.” “Forgive my man’s folly, my Queen,” she heard Robert call as he approached, guarded by half a dozen men-at-arms of his own. “My Lord father awaits you inside the castle.” He smiled and bowed. “My apologies he couldn’t be here to greet you, his health keeps him confined to his chambers.” Her mind found itself restless, her body a victim of fatigue. All she wanted to do now was take a long piss and go to sleep. Dulled by exhaustion, she nodded at Sir Mark. Stable boys took their horses from there and they walked inside afoot. “This way, if it please you, my Queen,” the Lord showed them the way, “You honour us greatly by being our guest, Your Highness.” But before she could respond to Lord Robert’s greetings, they came across something in the courtyard they would have never imagined … though Lord Gilbert’s charred corpse was burned beyond all recognition, hanging from the gallows; only by the jade ring he used to wear on his left thumb did Charlotte know him. The blood drained from the Queen’s cheeks, but young Prince Iwan was the first to realize what it meant. “Mother, run!” he shouted, but it was too late. Lord Robert’s men, over forty strong, fell upon the three Queensguard. An axe took Sir Robyn Hawksworth’s head before his sword could come out of its scabbard, and Sir Barnabus was stabbed through the back with a spear. Men closed from both sides. Sir Mark Ambrose reached back over his shoulder, ripped his sword from its sheath, and buried the blade in the head of the first man to come at him. Bronze was no match for steel. The blow sheared right through the guard’s helm and deep into his skull, Sir Mark kicked on his shoulder to free his sword, which came out blanketed with blood. Steel rang on steel as he danced with his sword and corpses fell to his feet, one after the other before a spear pierced through the back of his neck. Blood sprouted from his mouth as he choked with the fall and with him died the last of the Queen’s defenders. “Sir Mark Ambrose.... the greatest swordsman to ever walk....,” Robert smiled as he looked at the dead bodies lying all around him. Charlotte pulled her son to her chest,“Why?!” she yelled, tears welling from her eyes, the terror of her life stopping the words in her throat. For a moment she had thought she was safe. “Sometimes the old must go, to make place for the new. King Reynard is the new lord of the twelve kingdoms and anyone who denies his claim will die, just like my old Lord father did,” Robert stated. He signalled his guards with his head and they pulled Iwan away from her. “Mother!” he shouted. “No!” she screamed, trying to fight the men but to no gain. Her son was gone, she could not see him anymore. Where had they taken him? She did not know. CHAPTER- III DARK Her eyes had never starved for light like this ever before. There were no windows, no bed, no goblets made of gold that she was used to. Only darkness. She remembered walls of black stone, incompletely covered in a blanket of moss, a brownish door of splintered wood, four inches thick and studded with iron. She had seen them, briefly, a quick glimpse as they shoved her inside. Once the door had slammed shut, she had seen no more. The dark was absolute. She now knew how it might feel to be blind. The dungeon was under the castle, deeper than she dared imagine. Robert’s face seemed to float before her in the darkness. His shrewd, cunning eyes, his smile reflecting mockery. She wept when she thought of Iwan, though as silently as she could. The thought of him was as painful as a sword through the heart. She wondered where he was, what he was doing. She wondered whether she would ever see him again. For how long she had been here she did not know. There was no sun and no moon. Charlotte closed her eyes and opened them; it made no difference. She slept and woke and slept again. She did not know which was more horrifying, waking or sleeping. When she slept, she dreamed of death and blood, and when she woke, all she could think of was about the same. Her bladder was jutting out of her abdomen now, filled with three days worth of piss. She knew she was in a dungeon, she knew she was alone and no one would see her if she decided to relieve herself here on the floor, but her pride stopped her. She was a lady, and a proper lady always and only relieved herself in a privy or a chamber pot and nowhere else. She was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. Water, she thought. When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the sudden light was painful to her eyes, though she had grown used to it in this short while. The gaoler thrust a jug at her. The clay was cool and beaded with moisture. She grasped it with both hands and drank eagerly till it was empty. They brought her water every three to four hours but every time she drank it like she’d been thirsty for days. Something made her throat dry, maybe it was the fear. “How long..?” she asked weakly. The gaoler was an ugly man with a pot belly and bald, clad in a mail shirt and a leather half cape. “No talking,” he said as he pulled the jug from her hands. “Please,” Charlotte said, “my son...,” The door crashed shut. She blinked as the light vanished, lowered her head to her chest, and curled up on the straw. She could no longer tell the difference between waking and sleeping. For as long as her spirit and strength gave her consent, she begged the man for some word of her son and the world beyond her cell. Grunts and kicks were her only replies. Later, when the stomach cramps began, she begged for food instead. Though they did not feed her, the gaoler brought her mugs of milk from time to time. One thing was clear to her by now, if Robert wanted her dead, he would have cut her down the moment he saw her. He wanted her alive. Weak, desperate, yet alive. But why? She lay there on the straw in silence as her bladder swelled further with all the water and milk and all the beer she had before leaving her castle. She ran a hand over her belly and wondered when she’d get to use a privy? Will they ever let her out of here? If not, would she just have to keep holding it? For long she listened to the sounds of beating and torture from other cells, she listened until she could listen no more to the cries and pleas, begging for the gift of death. Horror crept under her skin, so much that she lost her sleep. It had been two days since she had eaten, or maybe three. Down here in the dark it was hard to tell. But at least they brought her milk, the other prisoners did not get even that. But she could feel all the liquid bothering her bladder now. She wondered what fate had in store for her. Would she get out alive? Whenever she closed her eyes, she found herself remembering her husband. All this would have never happened had he been alive. Suddenly, she heard the sounds outside the dungeon door. It was strange. They had brought her water and milk just a while ago, so she knew this wasn’t that. They were coming to beat her, they would torture her. At once she froze, fearing even to breathe. She listened in terror, hard as stone, to the scuff of boots and the clanking of iron keys. No, she thought, no, please gods, not me, not me. She did not want to die, not this way. The sounds were growing louder. Please gods, he isn’t coming for me, she prayed, crouched down in a corner of her cell. Go away, she prayed, go away, pass me by, please, please. But the footsteps stopped just when they were loudest, and the keys clattered right outside the door. Her hands trembled in horror. “No,” she mumbled, “Noooo.” Her clothes fought with the straw as she tried to push herself into the corner, into the cold damp stone walls. The sound of the lock turning was the most terrible of all. Torchlight fell across her face as the door creaked open. She shielded her eyes with a hand. And when the man came to stand before her, she let out a shriek. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He was simply too big to be unintimidating and so wild - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of clay pots, and his feet in their leather boots were like tree trunks. She looked at him wide eyed, afraid that he was going to smash her skull open or do something even worse. Charlotte was certain she was going to die tonight but then the giant opened his mouth, “My Queen, don’t be scared,” he bowed down a bit, “I’m Gunther, the kennel master, come with me, I’ll get you out of here” he said. For a moment she did not believe him. Maybe this was a trap. But how much worse could it get? “My son” her lips trembled, tears flooding her cheeks. He held out his vast muscular arms to help her up. “Don’t worry, he has escaped,” the giant whispered. “Now come with me before someone sees us.” The gaoler was dead drunk in a puddle of wine, with his breeches down around his ankles. They quickly climbed the steep dungeon steps, the flame of the torch in Gunther’s hand flickering like a dancer’s hips. “The Hunter’s Gate has no guards,” he spoke but Queen Charlotte didn’t reply; only looked at him. She walked rigidly, with her thighs slightly pressed together and a hand on her stomach, a sign that she would like to let out her three days worth of urine, but she didn’t let it show and kept her composure strong. It was a chill dank autumn night. Clouds hid the roof of stars above and wind made the trees dance. It smelled like rain. Charlotte did not know whether that was good or bad for their escape. No one saw them, and they saw no one, only a black cat creeping along atop the wall. The fires were out, and the castle fast asleep. The postern gate was unguarded, just as he had said. Outside the walls of Tilsworth, a wolf howled long and loud. Gunther lifted the bar, set it aside, and pulled open the heavy oak door, they slipped from the castle and splashed across the stream, stumbling over stones. Wisps of pale mist threaded between the trees. Sentinels and soldier pines grew thick about here, and there was nothing as dark and gloomy as an evergreen forest. CHAPTER- IV A FRIEND INDEED The rays of the morning sun pierced through the roof of leaves over their heads, showing them the way ahead. Her mount walked forward in the dense forest, beside Gunther’s large garron. They crossed a shallow stream and went deeper into the woods. Many a times during the cold night that went by, Queen Charlotte had found the moments to close her eyes and sleep, even if it was for short whiles. But the man had been awake since their escape. Only once had he stopped to rest and eat apples that he had carried in a sack. Charlotte had been fending off her increasing bladder pangs for hours now, trying not to think much of it. Taking a deep breath, she again reminded herself that she had to wait until she got to a privy or a chamber pot, no matter how badly she wanted to go. She knew her bladder was much too large but everyone had their limits. More and more she found herself thinking of emptying her swollen vessel but every time she erased the thought from her mind. She looked around to take her mind off her need and felt as if she knew the place. “The Enchanted Forest,” she sighed. Of all the tales her Lord father had told her of the place, one she had cherished more than the rest. It told of a monstrous beast that lived in this forest over ten thousand years ago, a lion with the head of a goat arising from its back, and a tail that ended with a snake’s head. Every night the fiend would appear from the forest to hunt people from the nearby village. It killed anyone it could find men, women or children and dragged them back to its den to devour. To appease the creature, the people of the village fed it two sheep every day. But when they ran out of sheep they started feeding it their children who they would choose through draw. There came a time when the lot fell on the lord’s daughter.The lord, in his grief, told the people they could have all his gold and silver and half of his lands if his daughter were spared but the people refused. The poor girl was sent out to the forest to be fed to the monster. But just when it appeared from the woods, snarling at the trembling girl, Sir Richard Cantillon, who happened to be riding through, thrust his sword into the beast’s back. A gory battle took place between the knight and the monster which ended when Sir Richard buried his sword into the animal’s stomach. It died, but not before bathing the warrior in a burst of flames that cooked him in his armour. When she was a child, all Charlotte wanted was to become like Sir Richard Cantillon, strong, valiant and kind. But the older she grew, the more she realized that what she wanted did not matter. What mattered was her father’s name and the honour of their house, what mattered was her husband’s crown and the name it held and what mattered was her son’s life and the throne he was going to sit on. She now knew that her life had never been her own. It had been for others, the ones she loved. They went on for another hour before in the middle of the dense forest they came upon a small hut with a chimney that had smoke coming out of it. Gunther lifted her from the saddle and gently landed her on the ground before knocking on the thick wooden door, “Martha?” The door opened and stepped out a beautiful middle aged woman, who looked gentle by her appearance. “Your Highness, this is Martha, my wife,” Gunther said. “Oh, my Queen!” Martha bowed when she realized who stood before her, “It is such a great pleasure to have you here!” she couldn’t control her joy and kissed Charlotte’s hands, “Please do come in” she welcomed Her Highness, and the Queen smiled meekly, trying to conceal her bladder fatigue. “The potatoes are on boiling and the kettle's singing, Gunther, you'll get us some fish," Martha echoed. “Of course, my dear,” the giant picked up the net that hung outside and left for the brook nearby. Meanwhile Martha filled the kettle, lay the table, cut the bread and put the plates in the oven to heat and drew a huge jug of beer for Gunther from a barrel which stood in one corner of the house. Just as the frying-pan was nicely hissing, Gunther came in with the fish which he had already opened with his knife and cleaned out in the open air. The new-caught fish smelled rich while they were fried it, making him feel hungrier. Martha drained the potatoes and then put them all back in the empty pot to dry on the side of the range before dishing up the trout as everyone prepared to eat. There was a jug of creamy milk for the Queen and a great big lump of deep yellow butter in the middle of the table to go with their potatoes. Though the Queen only had some bread along with the milk, she felt hungry no more. “I would like to thank you both, I owe you my life,” Charlotte spoke, “I promise you’ll be rewarded handsomely for this,” she finished as she looked at them. “Oh, that won’t be needed, my Queen,” Martha smiled, “It is our duty to serve Her Highness.” She forced a smile but her concern soon boiled over. “I’m worried for Iwan, I don’t know where he might be now,” she held her face. “Norman, one of the stable boys, I asked him to take the Prince to your brother who is not too far away from the capital now, moving forward with this mighty host,” Gunther assured her, “We could have escaped together but this way it will be difficult for them to catch us.” “Does my brother know?” Charlotte asked, her fist clenching tightly over the table. “No, he doesn’t,” Gunther replied, “Robert planned to sell you to a flesh merchant from across the Troubled Sea. Men would kill to have the Queen warm their bed. It won’t be long before the word gets out though,” he stood up, “Robert will have his men looking for you, that is why I brought you here.” Martha filled one of Gunther’s huge beer jugs and placed it before the Queen. “Thank you,” Charlotte said with a wry smile, avoiding mentioning her swelling bladder. Despite a wait this long, the Queen was not desperate. The beer was going to make its presence felt soon enough but she knew she could hold it. “Lord Walter plans to march on Godswick when the time is right. Reynard Dalton sits warily on the throne. His forces have dwindled but many have joined his cause, mainly out of fear,” the giant said. “I must be with my brother... I must go to Walter...,” Charlotte found herself drowning in her pool of thoughts. “It won’t be safe for you to move out right now,” Gunther added, “I say, you stay here, my Queen.” “I know, but I need to know where Iwan is,” she said, “I’m worried for him.” “I know, my Queen,” Gunther spoke softly, “....but I assure you he is safe, might have as well reached your brother’s camp.” That calmed her down a bit but she still couldn’t stop thinking about him. “I’m afraid I must leave your here with my wife, Your Highness,” Gunther said, “I must go back to Tilsworth or they’ll come looking for me.” With a nod she gave him her leave and Gunther looked at his wife before stepping out of the door. Just as he left, Martha came to her, with her legs crossed and her body bent a little, “My Queen, if I may have your permission, can I go out to relieve myself? I haven’t been all day.......,” “Well, of course you may,” Charlotte answered. In that moment, she wished she was a commoner as well. Then she could have peed anywhere she wanted and no one would have cared. But she was the Queen; it would botch the name of her family if she was to do something like that. She shook her head and let that thought go. Hold it, she told herself as she clenched her fists over the table. As Martha rushed out, Charlotte walked to the window and looked intently at the woman. She saw Martha lift up her dress, which revealed her bulging bladder, it was gigantic! It was nothing close to her own swollen bladder but it was huge none the less. Charlotte turned around when she saw Martha begin to squat and went near the fire place but in her mind she imagined the relief that might be flowing through the woman’s body. She wanted that relief too but she knew she’d have to wait for it. As the night fell, Charlotte began to feel cold. Thus Martha heated up the mare’s milk she had full in a huge cauldron and filled a mug for Charlotte. The Queen felt much better as she began to sip the hot drink. It was something she had never tasted before, sweet and foamy and creamy, and it warmed her right down to her toes. She stayed up all night, sitting by the fireplace with a blanket around her, drinking the mare’s milk. By the morning the cauldron was empty but the Queen felt tired and her headache had worsened. Her shoulders pained and her fingers felt stiff. After she came back from picking cherries off the bushes, Martha brewed the Queen a kettle of hot nettle tea, which gave the Charlotte a slight respite from the headache. The warmth spread through her body and made her feel better. She cradled the tea in her hands and blew on it to cool it. Fate seems to be upset with me, Charlotte thought as she sipped the astringent tea, before I go to my son, I only wish to see my father once. But she knew she could not. She had written to him before the day Godswick fell. I love you father, I pray for you to the Lord each night, may he grant us strength in these difficult times. Over the day she drank over a dozen kettles of nettle tea and though it made her feel warm and nice, it didn’t help abate her headache. It made her want to pee more but she corked it up like an iron horse. When the night had shrouded the forest in its dark and Martha and Charlotte had fallen asleep, a sudden banging at the door woke them up. Martha opened the door to find Gunther, with a look of fear on his face, “Hurry, we must leave right now, Lord Robert’s men are on their way here! There’s not a moment to lose...,” Martha turned swiftly and handed over a blanket to Queen Charlotte, before picking up sacks and laying them on the table, "Gunther, just reach down that ham and get two or three loaves out of the crock over there in the corner." "What are you doing?" exclaimed Gunther. "Packing a load for each of us, dearie," said Martha chaotically. "You didn't think we'd set out on a journey with nothing to eat, did you?" "But we do not have any time to waste!" said Charlotte, wrapping the blanket around herself. "They may be here any minute." "That's what I say," added Gunther. Martha packed whatever little she could and they all rushed out. Queen Charlotte walked, her bladder straining with the movement and Gunther helped her on her horse, before they set out into the cold night. CHAPTER- V THE ONE OF HER OWN Martha had gone ahead to scout, and it was she who brought back word of the army at a distance. "By their fires I think they might be twenty thousand strong," she said. "Their banners are green, with a dancing horse." "It is my brother," Charlotte said, her mammoth bladder aching after the long night’s ride. She put her heels to her horse and trotted off, giving Gunther and his wife no choice but to follow or be left behind. Distant watchers peered down from watchposts made of wood as the three rode towards them. A dozen crossbowmen manned the uneven hilltops. Charlotte halted Martha and Gunther out of range and rode up. "Who commands here?" she shouted. The captain was quick to appear, and even quicker to give them an escort when he recognized the Queen. She could see the camp spread out to a vast distance. Mailed men sat under trees and honed their blades, and familiar banners fluttered from staffs thrust into the muddy ground. The air was filled with the smoky haze of a thousand cook fires. Thousands of pavilions rose from the grass like silken mushrooms. A party of mounted horsemen rode forward to greet them as they ventured further in. The knight who led them wore silver armour inlaid with ametrine and striped purple and golden cloak and his shield bore a lamp for the sigil. Charlotte reined up to greet him. “Sir Adam.” Sir Adam Popplewell lifted his visor. "Your Highness," he said in astonishment. "We all feared for your safety, it is a blessing to see you unharmed!" He looked at the giant and the beautiful woman besides him uncertainly. "These . . . friends of yours . . .” "My travel companions," Charlotte said. "Where will I find my brother?" "He is in his pavilion." "I will see him at once." "As you say, my Queen." Lord Walter’s camp spread over leagues. Martha’s estimate of twenty thousand men could not be far wrong. The common men camped out in the open, but the knights had thrown up tents, and some of the high lords had erected pavilions as large as houses. Near all the chivalry of the east had come to Walter’s call, it seemed. Charlotte could see the silver eagle of the Calverts, Lord Longwood's pine tree, the bells of Swinton, the beaver of Stillman. Everyone bowed as she rode past, containing all the water beer and milk she had consumed as it streamed into her bladder. And even though she was holding this much, her demeanour was calm as ever and only her bulbous abdomen could tell otherwise. Martha was gaping back; beyond a certainty, she had never seen so many men, horses, and weapons in all her days. A pair of house guards in greenish cloaks and helms stood outside the great pavilion, on either side of the door. Charlotte recognized their captain. "My brother?" "Inside, my Queen." "Those two who came with me will want clothes to wear, beds to rest and meat and mead to fill their stomachs," Charlotte told him. "See that they are well taken care of." She entered the pavilion, and there was Walter. She found her brother surrounded by their father’s lords bannermen. Walter Torrington, The acting Lord of Longford, was in his early thirties. He was tall, with long legs, broad shoulders and a flat stomach. With rich black hair, a handsome face and brown eyes. He stood leaning onto the table, a pile of maps and papers in front of him, talking intently with Earl Calvert and Victor Atwell. At first he did not notice her... but the other lords did. The lords fell silent one by one, and Walter looked up at the sudden quiet and saw her. “Charlotte?” he said, his voice thick with sentiment. Charlotte wanted to run to him, to hug him so she could feel safe again, but here in front of his lords, she dared not. So she held herself at the far end of the table. Lord Hadrian was the first to travel across the tent to pay his respects, kneeling before her and pressing his brow to her hand. “My Queen,” he said, “you are fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times.” Lord Earl followed, his son Baron, and the rest, one by one. Sir Duncan was the last. “I had not looked to see you here, my Queen,” he said as he knelt. “I had not thought to be here,” Charlotte said, “....until I escaped from Tilsworth, and someone told me that Walter had his host moving towards the capital.” “My Queen, we had men looking for you everywhere but none of them could find you...,” Lord Victor said. The lords were anxious to talk to her, but Charlotte raised a hand. “No doubt we will have time for all this later, but my journey has fatigued me. I would speak with my brother alone. I know you will forgive me, my lords.” She gave them no choice; led by the ever-obliging Lord Calvert, the bannermen bowed and took their leave. “Have you had any word of Iwan?” she asked the moment she was sure they were alone. “There was a letter,” Walter said. He went to the table, rummaged among some maps and papers, and returned with a crumpled parchment. Something in Walter’s tone troubled her. She smoothed out the paper and read. Concern gave way to disbelief, then to anger, and lastly to fear. Her son was Lord Reynard’s prisoner now. She held the table for support as something broke inside her and tears came to her eyes. “He wants me to surrender you to him as well and ask my men to ride back home,” he added. “And if we march... even if we win... he’ll kill Iwan.” Her hopes were crushed, the light within her suddenly dimming. She did not know what to say. She did not know what to think. All she knew was she couldn’t lose. Not after coming this far. “If you turn your tail and retreat to Longford, your lords will lose all respect for you. Some may even go over to the Daltons. Then Reynard, with that much less to fear, can do as he likes with Iwan,” Charlotte looked at him with pleading eyes. “Our best hope, our only true hope, is that you can defeat the foe in the field. If you should chance to take Lord Reynard or any of his sons captive, then a trade might very well be possible, but that is not the heart of it. So long as you have power enough that he must fear you, Iwan should be safe. Reynard is wise enough to know that he may need him to make peace, should the fighting go against him.” “What if the fighting doesn’t go against him?” Walter asked. “What if it goes against us? He has twice the numbers I have.” “They say the Daltons have hearts of stone.” Charlotte looked down for a moment and then towards him, “If you lose, there is no hope for any of us.” Walter saw the fear and desperation in her eyes. “Then I will not lose,” he vowed. CHAPTER- VI THE STONE TABLE The morning that followed was a strange one. Charlotte woke up in her pavilion that was larger than the common rooms of an inn and furnished with every comfort: feather mattress and sleeping furs, a wood-and-copper tub large enough for two, braziers to keep off the night's chill, slung leather camp chairs, a writing table with quills and inkpot, bowls of peaches, plums, and pears, a flagon of wine with a set of matched silver cups, cedar chests packed full of clothing, books, maps, game boards, a high harp, a tall bow and a quiver of arrows, a pair of red-tailed hunting hawks and more. She tried to sit up on her bed but felt an immense increase in pressure as she did so. Her bladder was now rock hard. The barrel of beer she had emptied last night while discussing the battle plan with her brother and his bannermen was now brewing inside her bladder, stretching it out immensely. She still was not at her limits, but she was very, very full and her bladder felt very heavy in her abdomen. She quickly dressed herself up but before she left for her brother’s pavilion, Charlotte reminded herself that she had to act normally no matter how much her bladder ached. She was determined to keep her legs uncrossed all the times. She knew she was in full command of her bladder and she could wait to empty it. So, nursing her bursting bladder, she walked as normally as she could to her brother’s camp. She found him sitting on his chair, looking carefully at the map that lay before him. “Your Highness,” he rose up to greet her. “Is there any word of Iwan?” Charlotte asked as she walked towards her seat, containing in her iron bladder litres and litres of urine. “Well, no. But the scouts report King Reynard has moved his army further up,” Walter studied the pieces on the map, “He wants to end this as far away from the capital as he can.” Just then a knight entered the pavilion, "Sorry to interrupt you My Lord, but there is a messenger from Reynard Dalton." Charlotte looked at her brother and he looked back at her. "Let him approach," said Walter. The knight went away and soon returned leading the King’s messenger. “What is your message?” asked Walter. "The King of Solambria desires a safe conduct to come and speak with you," he said, "on a matter which is of as much concern to you as to him." "King of Solambria, indeed!" said Charlotte. "That bastard -" “Charlotte, no,” said Walter, “.... we might have a chance to get Iwan back” he added, “Tell your King, that I grant him safe conduct.” The messenger bowed and left. The hours that went by left Charlotte’s mind laden with the thoughts of her son and for once she did not think of her bladder that was now swollen outrageously to contain the copious amount of liquid she had consumed. Even when she felt the need she acted as if her bladder was empty. Only the significant bulge of her abdomen told otherwise. The wait was getting on her nerves, but she did not worry. She knew her bladder would swell further if needs be but would never crack or give way to any amount of pressure. A herald’s voice suddenly boomed across the empty skies, “Here comes King Reynard of the House Dalton, the fifth of his name, Emperor of the twelve kingdoms and the father of the realm.” The Queen felt a shudder running down her back at the sight of his face. Murmurs rose from the men around. The only two people present who seemed to be quite at their ease were Walter and the King himself. They entered the tent and took their seats. "The bitch is here," said Reynard looking at Charlotte, his voice cold and straight “and I have her pup.” His words enraged Walter but he reined the storm within him. "Well," said Walter. "What do you want from us?" “What do I want? Huh!” Reynard grinned, “You speak as if you do not know. I want both their heads on spikes, yours too if you don’t mind.” “You have Iwan, why haven’t you killed him yet if that is what you want?” “Well oft times I’ve heard that a live captive is of more value than a dead one,” Reynard breathed. He looked at Charlotte and then at her brother. "Have you forgotten the Laws of the God?" asked the King, coming straight to the point, his voice stiller than before. "Let us say I have forgotten them," answered Walter gravely. "Tell us of these Laws." "Tell you?" said Reynard, his voice growing suddenly shriller. "Tell you what is written on that very Table of Stone that the Servants of the God carved with their own hands? You very well know the Laws of the God. You know that as the King of Solambria, every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every treachery I have the right to kill." He looked at her again. "And so," continued Reynard, "....the Prince and his mother are mine. Their lives are forfeit to me. Their blood is my property." Charlotte stood on Walter’s side, looking all the time at his face. She felt a choking feeling and wondered if she ought to say something; but she didn’t know what to say. "Charlotte," said Walter, "I will talk to the King alone." She turned and left the pavilion. It was a terrible time this - waiting and wondering while Walter and King Reynard talked. They talked for long and until the night fell dark and the shimmering stars glowed in the sky. As she waited outside the tent, Charlotte gave an “aah!” and hiked one leg up as the bladder pangs grew stronger but then stood confidently without giving a trace of her desperation to the men around her, as her organ swelled past the six day mark. The gallons of water she had today were stretching her bladder walls even further. There was going to be no release of pressure until she wished it and there would be no giving into the desperate need to let out the massive lake that she had inside her, she’d just have to wait. Then suddenly King Reynard appeared out of the tent and left without saying so much as a word. Charlotte went to her brother who took a last sip from his goblet of wine. "I have settled the matter. He has renounced the claim on your lives." Charlotte felt so relieved, as if she had began to breathe again. She held her bladder as a smile ran across her face. “...and he promised to send Iwan back early on the morrow,” he continued. She couldn’t believe her ears, her joy knew no bounds. Then, she stopped, “But what did he ask for in return?” she could read the sorrow on her brother’s face. But of that she did not get an answer as Lord Walter stood up and left. Charlotte couldn’t sleep that night. She had a horrible feeling - as if something was hanging over them. She felt as if something dreadful was going to happen to her brother. Early morning the next day, as he had promised, King Reynard returned the Prince to them. Sir Adam Popplewell brought him to the Queen and she pulled him to her loving embrace, “Oh, my son....,” she cried as her fingers ruffled through his hair. “Mother!” he sobbed, the wound on his lower lip paining him. She ran her hands through his beautiful face and wept, thanking the God. “They killed Norman and they tried to kill my friend too but he got away!” the young Prince cried when he found the strength to speak. “Friend? Who?” “My friend, Tirius!” Iwan told her, trembling. “Tirius?” Charlotte believed she had never heard that name before. “Yes, mother. He is my friend,” the Prince nodded, “You would not believe but he had legs like a goat’s and two small horns over his head, he brought me apples and cherries while I hid in the forest! But then they found me!” Charlotte couldn’t believe the words of her son. Maybe the shock and fear had caught to him. She could not say. She only knew that the boy was frightened and only time would heal his wounds. She asked a squire to take the Prince to his pavilion and help him bathe, while she proceeded for the war meeting. All through the meeting she strode about around the tent as she spoke to the lord’s bannermen, still keeping her legs apart and paying no mind to her aching bladder. She needed this victory more than she needed anything else and she was going to make every effort she could for it. But during that day, many a times she heard her brother telling Lord Atwell how to place his men against the Dalton army while in battle. He told him of every move or strategy he could think of and also gave him the command of his army. "But you will be there yourself, my Lord," Lord Atwell asked. "I can give you no promise of that," Walter answered. He did not talk very much and seemed to them to be sad. Walter's mood affected everyone that evening. Lord Atwell was feeling distressed also at the idea of fighting the battle on his own; the news that Lord Walter might not be there had come as a great shock to him. Supper that evening was a quiet meal. This feeling affected Charlotte so much that she couldn't get to sleep when she went to bed. And after she had laid counting sheep and turning over and over she heard Martha give a long sigh and turn over just beside her in the darkness. "Can't you get to sleep either?" asked the Queen. “No,” said Martha. "I thought you were asleep, my Queen." "No, I couldn’t. I've a most horrible feeling - as if something were hanging over us." "Have you? Because, as a matter of fact, so have I." "Something about Walter," said Charlotte. "Either some dreadful thing is going to happen to him, or something dreadful that he's going to do." "There's been something wrong with him all afternoon," said Martha. “What was that he said about not being at the battle? You don't think he could be stealing away and leaving us tonight, do you?" "I don’t know. Where is he now?" said the Queen. "Is he here in the pavilion? I’m worried for him,” she added, "I want to see him." “My Queen, he must be asleep by now, can’t it wait till the morrow? “No, I’ve to see him right now,” Charlotte threw away her blanket, “I have a feeling that he needs me.” "All right, let's," said Martha, "....we might just as well be doing that as lying awake here." So the two women slid out of the tent and quietly made their way towards Walter’s pavilion. The moonlight was bright and everything was quite still except for the noise of the river chattering over the stones. Charlotte peeped into his tent and found he wasn’t there. "Is he here in the pavilion?" asked Martha "I don't think so." "Let’s have a look round,” Martha spoke “We might see him." And then, on the far side of the camping ground, just where the trees began, they saw her brother slowly walking away into the wood. Without a word they followed him. He led them up the steep slope out of the river valley and then slightly to the right. On and on he led them, into dark shadows and out into pale moonlight, getting their feet wet with the heavy dew. They saw that they were going up the slope of the hill on which the Stone Table stood, an ancient relic known to all the men of the realm. They heard the sounds of men talking and the two women crouched behind a thick wall of bushes. Almost a score of men stood round the Stone Table. It was a great grim slab of grey stone supported on four upright stones. It looked very old; and it was cut all over with strange lines and figures that might be the letters of an unknown language. Though the moon was shining, many of them carried torches which burned with red flames and black smoke. And right in the middle, standing by the Table, was King Reynard himself. They laughed at her brother and made japes of him. “The fool!" King Reynard said. "The fool has come. Bind him fast." Charlotte and Martha held their breaths waiting for Walter to draw his great sword and cut his enemies down. But it never happened. Four soldiers came forward to tie his hands and legs to which he made no resistance at all. Then they began to drag him towards the Stone Table. Everyone was at him now. Those who had been afraid to come near him even after he was bound began to find their courage, and for a few minutes the two women could not even see him - so thickly was he surrounded by the whole crowd of men kicking him, hitting him, spitting on him, jeering at him. At last the rabble had had enough of this. They began to drag Walter to the Stone Table. “Those bastards...,” sobbed Charlotte. When once Walter had been tied on the flat stone, a silence fell on the crowd. Four men, holding four torches, stood at the corners of the Table. Reynard Dalton pulled out his sword. The thing shone in the moonlight, white as milk. At last he drew near. He stood by Walter's head, who looked up at the sky, still quiet, neither angry nor afraid, but a little sad. Then, just before Reynard gave the blow, he stooped down and said in a quivering voice, “Fool, did you think that by all this you would save your sister and her pup? Now I will kill you instead of the Prince as our pact. But when you are dead what will prevent me from killing him and his bitch mother? And who will take them out of my hand then? I have two times the men you have but this has made things really easy for me. Without a leader your army will scatter in no time. Understand that you have handed over the fate of your sister and her son into my hands, you have lost your own life and you have not saved theirs. I hope you find peace in the afterlife.” He brought down his sword to pierce right through Walter’s chest. The blood of his life ran on the stone table and he closed his eyes. Charlotte covered her face, trying to stop the images of her brother’s murder but it didn’t help. She cried without making a sound and Martha tried to hold her. CHAPTER- VII THE LAWS OF GODS AND MEN While the two women still crouched in the bushes with their hands over their faces, they heard the voice of the King calling out, "Our work is done here. Now! Follow me all and we will set about what remains of this war! It will not take us long to crush the whore now that her foolish brother lies dead." Charlotte and Martha held their breaths as the men walked past the bushes. They would be raped before being butchered if King Reynard got to know they hid here. Their laughs and japes echoed in Charlotte’s ears as they mounted their horses and swept off the hill-top. At any other time she would have trembled with fear; but now the sadness and shame and horror of Walter’s death so filled her mind that she hardly thought of it. As soon as the wood was silent again Charlotte and Martha crept out onto the open hill-top. The blanket of clouds hid the strokes of the moonlight, painting the night deeper and darker, but still they could see the shape of her brother’s body lying dead in his bonds. They both knelt down in the grass, before the Queen kissed his cold face and stroked his beautiful black hair; “He did this to save us...,” tears flooded her cheeks, her voice shaken. She cried and cried till she could cry no more. She looked at Martha and sobbed for she felt lonely and weak. "Help me" she said as she stood up and tried to pull out the sword that pierced her brother’s chest. They put all their strength to pull out the sword that had cut into the stone and at last it came free, her brother’s blood dripping off its edge. Charlotte tossed it aside and fondled Walter’s face. They tried to untie him but the cords were drawn so tight that they could do nothing of the knots. A certain quiet surrounded them. Charlotte felt as if nothing was going to happen ever again. Hours and hours went by in the dead calm, and they hardly noticed that they were getting colder and colder. Though Martha noticed the sky on the east side of the hill was a little less dark than it had been an hour ago. Then Charlotte in a fit of broken despair tried to untie her brother for one last time, and this time she succeeded. The sky in the east was whitish by now and the stars were getting fainter - all except one very big one low down on the eastern horizon. They felt colder than they had been all night. Every moment Walter’s dead face looked nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better. In the wood behind them a bird gave a chuckling sound. It had been so still for hours and hours that it startled them. Then another bird answered it. Soon there were birds singing all over the place. It was quite definitely early morning now, not late night. Martha rubbed arms to fight the cold as she looked on in despair at the broken Queen. The rising of the sun had made everything look so different - all colours and shadows were changed that. Charlotte held her brother in a tight embrace. Lost. All was lost. Her brother was gone. Her tears knew no end and her breathes were broken still. Defeat was absolute. “The Laws of the God...,” there came a voice from among the trees that startled both the women to the toes. “Who’s there?” Charlotte went wide eyed, horror creeping under her skin. Martha took a step back, sweat beading down her forehead. And then a very strange person stepped out of the trees, into the light. He might have been as tall as Iwan. From the waist upwards he was like a man, but his legs were shaped like a goat's, the hair on them was glossy brown and instead of feet he had goat's hoofs and his skin was rather reddish too. He had a strange, but pleasant little face, with a short pointed beard and curly hair, and out of the hair there stuck two horns, one on each side of his forehead. Charlotte and Martha couldn’t believe their eyes. A faun stood before them, a being of whom they had heard of only in fables. For a moment Charlotte thought she was dreaming but then the sight of her brother’s corpse stabbed her. “My Queen, I’m Tirius, a friend to Prince Iwan,” he bowed before her. The two of them didn’t know what to say. Fear stopped the words in their throats and left them shaking. Iwan was right, the person he had been describing was true after all. “The Laws of God, my lady, are strange but just. They say, only he can govern what is true and what is false. Only he holds the right to give life and to take it back,” he walked towards them, “....but he is not the only one who can give life. A mother can give life as well.” Charlotte looked at him with tear filled eyes. She couldn’t understand what he was saying and she didn’t know what to say. “The Stone Table was built thousands of years ago, on the command of the almighty, to serve as a symbol of justice and only the King could serve this justice,” he looked at Walter’s face, which seemed to be at peace, “The King is next to the God and his word is absolute. But if the Lord almighty gave the King the power to take life, he gave the Queen Mother the power to give life as well.” His words struck a string of hope within her. Suddenly her heart started to beat faster. “The Stone Table does not agree to the blood of an innocent,” Tirius told them, “If someone, for no fault of his is executed on the Table, then he can be brought back to life, but only by the Queen Mother.” “How?” she asked, her voice shaken, “It is not possible...,” “But it is...,” Tirius said, “It could be...it all depends upon the faith.” She looked at him, then at her brother and then at Martha. Wrecked by grief she stood up and placed her hands on the chest of her brother’s corpse, and though she didn’t believe the faun, the words came to her mouth, “My Lord, the creator of heaven and earth, I pray to you, shed your mercy upon us.....,” Her words sounded hollow to her ears, her hands touching her mistrust. She tried and tried but her brother’s breathes did not return. She sighed, broken in spirit. Her eyes closed in defeat. Tears flowing down her face. She looked at him, hoping he would move, hoping he would speak but his soul was gone. Gone far away. Her hands shook. She had lost. She looked at Martha, who stood still, not uttering a word. Charlotte turned and walked, to where she did not know. “My Lady there is one more way....,” Tirius spoke suddenly. She stopped on her track, then started walking again. “My Queen, without Lord Walter this war is lost,” Martha’s voice sounded in her ears, “Only he could have guided your men to victory.” Charlotte knew that was the truth but could she believe the faun’s words? “My Lady, inside the Castle of Light and Dark lays a hidden chamber. And inside that chamber is a tabernacle which holds a chalice of gold. The chalice that contains the God’s wine.” He stopped to catch his breath. “It is said that one can ask of anything from the Lord almighty if he succeeds to drink from the chalice and his wish shall be granted. But to get to the chalice is not easy....,” Tirius said, “It is said that magic guards the walls of the Castle of Light and Dark and to get past it is no feat for the faint of heart....,” The Castle of Light and Dark? She had never heard of it before. Was the faun lying? But what if it was the truth? Maybe it was her only chance to get her brother back. “How far is the castle from here?” “A day’s ride north,” Tirius replied, “...but my lady I must warn you, this may cost you your life...,” “If this is the way to bring my brother back, then I must do it....,” Charlotte spoke, “No matter what the cost....,” CHAPTER- VIII THE CASTLE OF LIGHT AND DARK Amongst the dense forest of larch and pine, Charlotte found the castle of Light and Dark. What she had presumed to be a magnificent stronghold was just a grey and ancient ruin, protected by the woods. She stood there with a hand on her aching bladder, her thighs pressed together. Studying the fortress and guessing what it held inside. The pressure inside her bladder had grown to the highest degree. The waterskin she had carried with her on the journey had been emptied and refilled over a dozen times since she had left Martha and her brother back at the camp yesterday and yet her bladder was unrelieved, still holding ten days worth of urine. But Queen Charlotte was confident. She knew her bladder would never crack or give way to any amount of pressure. But what if it became her undoing inside the Castle of Light and Dark? “My Queen,” Tirius said, “I want you to think this through one last time...” “There is nothing to think about,” Charlotte spoke, her eyes stuck on the castle, “I have no other way,” she sighed. “It is said that many go into The Castle of Light and Dark, but few come out,” he told, “If you have decided to follow your heart, then take me inside with you. I’ve heard many tales of the place, maybe they will come of help.” “No,” she breathed, “Some places even the Queen must walk alone.” This frightened the faun, “My Queen, you must remember, the front way leads in, but never out again. Heed my words, The Castle of Light and Dark was not made for mortal men. If you value your soul, take care and do just as I tell you.” “I will do as you say,” Charlotte promised. “When you enter, you will find yourself in a room with four doors: the one you have come through and three others. Take the door to your left. Each time, the door to your left. If you should come upon a stairwell, climb. Never go down, and never take any door but the first door to your left.” “The door to my left,” Charlotte repeated. “I understand. And when I leave, the opposite?” “No,” Tirius said. “Leaving and coming, it is the same. Always up. Always the door to your left.” “I understand.” She sighed and as the Queen walked towards the huge wooden door, it opened itself to let her in. She turned to look at the faun for one last time and then entered the castle. The door slowly closed behind her back. She found herself in a stone anteroom with four doors, one on each wall. With some hesitation, she went to the door on her left and stepped through. The second room was a twin to the first. Again she turned to the left-hand door. When she pushed it open she faced yet another small antechamber with four doors. I am in the presence of sorcery. She felt shaken but never did she let her fear overcome her. She took the door to the left once more and found herself in a long hall. The long hall went on and on and on, with torches burning on the walls. She walked past more doors than she could count, closed doors and open ones, doors of wood and doors of iron, carved doors and plain ones, doors with pulls and doors with locks and doors with knockers. Finally a great pair of bronze doors appeared to her left, grander than the rest. They swung open as she neared, and as she entered it, Queen Charlotte saw the thing for which she was not prepared. A gigantic dragon, bound by chains lay before her, guarding the doors behind it. Even the darkness had not dimmed the beauty of its scales that shone a shade of dark green in the light that danced upon the torches. For a moment, it took her breath away. Dragon? She couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d never seen one in her entire life and now, one was right before her! That’s an Asgarothian Ironbelly! She realized. She had read about dragons in the books kept in the capital’s great library and knew they had all died out centuries ago. It was a miracle to find one alive. Her amazement was short lived though as then the being sensed her. It turned its ugly head towards the Queen and roared with a noise that made the rocks tremble and then, it opened its mouth to spew a jet of fire that sent Charlotte running back. She held her bladder as she leaned back on the wall, her organ unprepared for this kind of rapid movement. The Queen went back in again, peeping at first. She could make that the creature was partially blind but only more savage for that. It looked at her fierce but then suddenly the dragon began to shift backward, as if it was scared of her. Charlotte couldn’t understand what was going on but she knew this was her only chance. The Queen slowly walked towards the wooden door behind the dragon and placed her hand on it. The door opened and she found herself in a room that was crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor, the skins of strange creatures— some with long spines, others with drooping wings — potions in jeweled flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown. There at the end of the room, she saw the tabernacle. She hurried towards it and opened it to find a chalice full of red wine like the faun had told her. Charlotte raised it to her lips. The first sip tasted sour, but when she swallowed it seemed to come to life within her. She could feel tendrils spreading through her chest, like fingers of fire coiling around her heart, and on her tongue was a taste like honey and blood. It was all the tastes she had ever known, and none of them . . . and then the chalice was empty. She closed her eyes and prayed, “O’Lord almighty, creator of heaven and earth, I pray to you to show your mercy upon me and send my brother back to me....,” she couldn’t control her tears any longer. Then all of a sudden the ground beneath her started to shake and the pillars that held the roof started to crumble. Horror gripped Charlotte tighter than ever. “Oh no!” she wailed. Huge boulders fell down as the roof began to collapse. The castle was coming down. Maybe it was the effect of her drinking from the chalice, she did not know. All she knew was that she needed to escape or she’d be crushed to death. She rushed towards the door as fast her swollen bladder would allow. The bound dragon let out a roar but its posture still seemed submissive, as if it was afraid. Then something happened, something clicked inside her and inspiration or madness came to Charlotte. She rushed towards the dragon and climbed atop the creature, which strangely showed no resistance. “Go! Go! Go!” she commanded and go it went! Charlotte had to put all her strength into her pee hole to keep it shut but she had other things to worry about now. The cuffs broke open with loud bangs. The dragon’s scales were hard as steel; it did not even seem to feel her. Then the creature became aware that it was unbound. With a roar it reared: Charlotte dug in her knees, clutching as tightly as she could to the jagged scales as the wings opened, knocking the pillars aside like skittles. Charlotte, flat on its back, scraped against the ceiling as it dived toward the passage opening, while the castle continued to fall around her. By sheer force the dragon clawed and fought its way through, a massive rock hitting its head, though it wasn’t enough to stop it. Charlotte’s eyes were shut tight against the heat and dust: Deafened by the crashing of rocks and the dragon’s roars, she could only cling to its back, expecting to be shaken off at any moment. And then at last, as the result of the dragon’s brute strength, the remaining roof over its head fell apart. Finally the dragon had room to stretch its wings: Turning its horned head toward the cool outside air it could smell around itself, the dragon climbed atop the rubble of the falling castle with Charlotte still clinging to its back. And then after a bit of struggle, it launched itself into the sky. The Queen was crazed with fear. What if she fell off?! She looked down and saw the Castle of Light and Dark, only the way she had found it before. Unharmed, unbroken. CHAPTER – IX THE BATTLE FOR GODSWICK Swords grazed the flesh off men and horses alike. Screams and shrieks filled the cold air and rivulets of blood ran through the field of battle. Murder was never a sight so common. Lord Victor Atwell could feel a fluttering in his bowels, a queasy liquid feeling; he hoped he was not going to die sick. He saw Sir John impaled on a spear and watched Lord Borbon’s horse shatter a man’s ribs with a kick. A flight of arrows descended on them; where they came from he could not say, but they fell on Torrington and Dalton alike, rattling off armour or finding flesh. Lord Victor lifted his shield and hid beneath it. One by one, his men were falling. The chance of victory slipping from their hands. With Lord Walter dead, there was no chance of defeating Reynard Dalton on the field. He should have known that. Lord Victor saw his son take an arrow to his eye before he fell to the ground, dead. Men stepped on his corpse. He screamed with grief and pain, louder than he had ever screamed but the sounds of the battle muffled his voice. He ran and took the motionless body of his son in his hands and rested his head on his lap before he pulled the arrow out of his skull. Tears found their way to Victor’s blood soaked cheeks, his hands shivering and his lips trembling. His wails were loud, heavy with sorrow but unknown to the ones around him. Then he stood up, swaying his sword, in anger, in pain, in defeat. But all was lost. Someone struck him from behind and his body surrendered itself to the mud. He didn’t want to get back up. All was lost. But then he heard something that left him numb, “Lord Walter is here!” A huge roar of approval went up as men pointed their swords and spears towards the sky in joy! And then he saw him. Atop his white stallion, the Lord of Longford pierced through the enemy. He saw Lord Walter catch an arrow mid air just when it was about to core his eye. What a magnificent warrior! Walter Torrington tossed it aside and jumped off his horse, piercing his sword into an enemy as he landed. Victor could not believe his eyes. A night ago he had wept over his Lord’s corpse that lied cold in his coffin and now he stood before him. Just then the knight who had hit him came thundering down on Victor, swaying his axe. He hit Victor’s helm with the side of his weapon. His head exploded with pain, his skull suddenly heavier than a boulder. Victor’s sword fell. He clawed on the ground for anything he could get his hands on, but the knight hit the side of his axe on Victor’s face once more and he fell down again. He did not recall hitting the ground, but when he looked up there was only sky above him. He rolled onto his side and tried to find his feet, but pain shuddered through him and the world throbbed. The knight drew up above him. "Lord Victor," he boomed down. "You are mine. Do you yield?" Yes, he thought, but the word caught in his throat. He made a croaking sound and fought his way to his knees, fumbling for a weapon. His sword, his dirk, anything . . . "Do you yield?" The knight loomed overhead. He seemed immense. The axe in his hand a raw piece of steel. Victor's hands were numb, his vision blurred, his scabbard empty. "Yield or die," the knight declared. “Fuck you, pig,” Lord Atwell mouthed and in an instant his head was gone. Lord Walter stood on the other side of the field. The battle seemed to have moved beyond him. No one remained on his part of the field save a large number of corpses. Ravens were already circling and landing to feed. The sound of hooves coming up behind him made him whirl, and he saw King Reynard’s reserve come sweeping along. Walter watched as the remnants of his lines got shattered like glass beneath the hammer of the Dalton charge. He had lost the battle. Then the enemies turned towards him. His eyes met theirs’. Suddenly Lord Walter felt as if the world had stopped moving and then he heard the word, “Charge!” Thousands of mounted men were coming towards him. To kill him. To rip him apart. He readied himself, tightening the grip on his great sword. He could feel the earth shuddering beneath his feet, sweat running through his brow, eyes pierced at the sea of warriors that was charging towards him. This was it. He had failed his sister. He had failed his men. This was his end. He closed his eyes and remembered his father, his late mother and his sisters. But then, a sound of thunderous roar filled the skies. Every eye on the battle field looked up and there it was. A dragon. King Reynard watched open mouthed as the great being flapped its gigantic wings. And then he saw her. Sitting atop the dragon’s back. The Queen. In the blink of an eye the dragon came sweeping down to rain fire on his men. Shrieks of horror went up in the skies as an inferno engulfed them. Many ran to save their lives, many got cooked. The dry grasses and stands of wheat went up at once. The wind fanned the flames and blew the smoke into the face of the King. The scent of fire sent the horses into panic, and as the smoke thickened, horse and rider alike were blinded. Their ranks began to break as walls of fire rose on every side of them. The remaining of the Torrington men waited with their bows and spears and made short work of the burned and burning Dalton men who came staggering from the hellhole. More than twenty thousand men died in the flames and what remained of King Reynard’s men perished from swords and spears and arrows. The beaten King looked on as the battle slipped from his hands. All was lost. He began to flee but found someone standing before him. A ghost of his past. A man he had killed. “I hope you find peace in the afterlife,” Lord Walter said before putting his sword through Reynard’s belly. Blood sprouted from his mouth before he fell to the ground. Dead. The echoes of, “Long live the Queen!” and “Long may she reign!” filled the air. A smile ran across Walter’s face. The war was over. They had won. CHAPTER– X THE END The night that followed was that of celebration. Lord Walter held a small feast to mark their victory and everyone drank to the health of the Queen. Charlotte herself drank a large amount of beer on the insistence of the Lords and knights present, though she had not wanted to. She had not made water in days, and the last thing she wanted was more liquid getting pumped inside her tired bladder, but she very well could not refuse the men who had fought for her. As the night darkened and the Queen went to her bed, sleep evaded her. She was beginning to grow less and less confident in her ability to hold her piss and was clenching her muscles as tight as she could, her calmness slowly slipping away. The pressure was getting to her, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Her bladder filled considerably during the night and by the time it was morning, Queen Charlotte was feeling a fairly intense urge to piss. She knew there was no room left for her bladder to expand and she had little will power to continue her hold. But regardless, she got up and dressed herself. Her bladder felt like it was about to explode but the Queen withheld her pressure and waited calmly until it was time for her to leave for the capital. She was dying to get to the castle, rush to the privy and take the piss of her life. She just wanted to let it all out. Hold on, you can hold on, she told herself. Waves of urgency came upon her again and again as her bladder attempted to release its contents to save itself from bursting apart but the Queen held on, endlessly. Her composure unshaken. But inside her chest, her heart beat faster than ever, her head heavier than a boulder. She realized she wasn’t able to think straight, did she really needed to pee that much? It did not matter. She would hold it till she reached inside the walls of the King’s Fort. Inside her chamber. Inside her privy. Only then would she relieve herself. She thanked all the Lords for their support in the war and kissed her brother’s brow before climbing atop her horse, barely controlling her immense need to piss. They all waved at her, Walter, Gunther, Martha and the rest, and she waved back, and so did her son who rode right beside her. Surrounded by a dozen guards, they went on their way as the others looked on. As they rode on into the dusk, Charlotte found herself grabbing her crotch whenever she was sure no one was looking. She could not believe the pressure, it was more than she’d felt ever before. She had never wanted to wee this badly in all her life, yet she was determined not to let it show to the men who rode with her and especially not to her son. She reminded herself that she did not need to worry; her bladder was cast-iron, strong and unbreakable. But then why did she feel so worried? She realized she did not want to think about it. They’d get to the capital tomorrow anyway, until then she’d just not think about it. She just pressed her crotch on the saddle of her horse and rode on. After another hour of riding, they spotted a watchtower. It meant they were on the border of her father’s lands and the royal grounds started from here on out. As they got closer to the tower, Charlotte spotted three armoured men on horsebacks. One carrying a banner with the rampant Griffin of House Seymour on it, the sigil of her late husband’s house and now hers. The three men rode towards them, grasping swords and shields. “It’s an honour to have you here, my Queen and my Prince,” one of them said, “I would like to congratulate you on your victory.” “Many thanks to you, my friend,” Queen Charlotte said forcing a smile. Her bladder was absolutely bursting by this point, her desperation growing by the minute. She realized her hands were shaking. She didn’t know what was happening to her, she was growing restless and panic was starting to crawl up her chest. Was this because she had to urinate? No, that couldn’t be. That couldn’t be. She was the Queen. She could hold on as long as she wanted to. Then why was she sweating? Why was she afraid of losing control? Why? Why? Then, it suddenly hit her, I cannot hold it. M-my bladder is going to explode! I have to piss....i-it’s going to come out! I need to find somewhere to go! I have to piss! Oh my god, I have to piss! Her body was trembling, but she couldn’t let it show to everyone. Hide it, hide it! She screamed within. Holding the reins tighter in her trembling hands. “My Queen, we’d be honoured to have you as our guest at the tower, to share our meat and mead and our roof for the night,” Oliver, one of the men said. Albert, the captain of the Queen’s escort replied, “I thank you for the offer, but we must continue on our way to the capital.” “Wait,” Charlotte said suddenly. “I think we will accept your offer of hospitality. I am sure my guards are hungry, and my back is sore from riding. If you could give me a private room with a bed in which I could rest till the morrow, I would be very grateful to you.” “My Queen,” Albert whispered quickly. “... the capital is just a few hours away, we’ll reach home if we cont--” “I have given my command,” Charlotte said sternly, although on the inside she was frantic. She’d already waited past the breaking point. She knew she didn’t have much time left. “We’ll rest here for the night,” she finished much more politely, turning back to Oliver. “Of course, my Queen,” Oliver said with a bow. “I thank you. With haste, then,” Charlotte said loudly over the whispered protests of her guards. She ignored them completely as she reined her horse to follow Oliver towards the tower. It was a short ride, and soon they were dismounting and making their way into the tower. Oh, she couldn’t wait to piss! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! She screamed internally at Oliver, who was leading them inside. Charlotte walked into the lobby, her bladder ready to crack, “My room?” she asked straight away. “My Queen, would you like some wine before your rest?” he asked. “N-no, not at all,” Charlotte held her brow, squeezing her thighs as tightly together as she could, “Just show me to my room, please....” “Of course,” Oliver replied. “If you would follow me.” Charlotte turned to step after him, and he led her to the base of the tower's staircase. She trembled at the thought of climbing up stairs when she was just moments away from losing complete control of her bladder. Nor did she have the energy neither the time to fight off her need anymore. Still, there was no escaping it. She lifted her right leg and took the first step of the tall tower, then another with her left. Every time she raised a leg, her thigh pressed into the bottom of her bladder, causing it to send out a pulse of pain and pressure that rippled through her body. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, and she pressed her thighs together, her hands gripped in tight fists, nails digging into her pale skin. Charlotte gasped in pain, audibly but quietly, and her bladder throbbed strongly. Then, suddenly, without her consent, her pole opened for a full second and a long, hot leak escaped into her smallclothes. She froze in panic and quickly stood straight, clenching her muscles, stopping herself from wetting her dress any further. Looking down in horror and shame, she saw the wet spot on her dress, now dark green from the sudden spurt of her warm urine. Fuck, this is so embarrassing! Despite her humiliation, she continued to climb the stairs, grabbing her crotch as tightly as she could. Finally she came to a thick wooden door at the fifth floor, and she grasped the handle, stumbled inside and yelled, “Thank you so much!” to Oliver before banging the door shut at his face! She dashed straight towards the window, lifting up her dress and tearing down her small clothes as she did so. Stricken with panic, she threw her bottom over the edge of the window and at that very moment, the flood inside her erupted completely. “Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!! Ooooooooohhhhhhhh mmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy ggggoooooddddd!!!” Queen Charlotte threw her head up as her eyes closed themselves tight with the immense relief that flowed through her exhausted body. Her toes curled in response of the enormous release. So much pressure... for so long... “Oooooohhhh tthhhaaannnnkkk ggggoooddd!!!” she groaned, the relief rendering her unable to open her eyes. Her whole body shivered with respite as the endless flow of piss streamed out of her. Her brain felt numb. It felt so good to finally release it! Her bladder was stretched to the bursting point. How she had managed to hold it this long she’d never know. She could feel the stream carry her stress out with it. Oh, how long had she waited for this! This glorious feeling of relief. Another heartfelt groan of relief escaped her throat as she let out her long held waters. Oh, how much her bladder had ached! The feeling of bliss as she finally felt her organ shrink was beyond what words could describe, it was pure ecstasy. The tower had come as a blessing in her time of desperate need. There was no way she could have held it all the way to the capital with her bladder that full. But now it was over. She did not have to worry anymore. She was saved. “Phew!” she breathed as she felt the heavy stream run out of her, I really needed that. The relief was so overpowering that she felt light headed. It felt so good! But this private moment of her release was interrupted when a fat man suddenly burst into her room! “My Queen!” the man said with a big smile on his face, “Am I disturbing you?” Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock and humiliation and with the fear of being found out! She didn’t know what to do or what to say! She froze where she was, not moving an inch as her piss continued to flow out of her. “Oh, Your Highness! You mustn’t sit on the window like that!” he yelped, “You might fall off!” The man she recalled as Lord Peter Walden. Many years ago she had granted him the custody of this watchtower for his dedicated service to the throne. Now he was standing before her, about to find out that she was weeing out of the window of his tower. Get lost! Get out, you idiot! She screamed within. “M-my Lord, I-I assure you that I’m safe,” she said, trying her best to cut off her flow but her sphincters were too worn out, “T-to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” “I am most grateful to you my Queen for the generosity you’ve shown us by being our guest for the night,” he said, “I hope you find your stay comfortable.” Yes! Please get out of the room! Get out! Now! “T-thank you, M’lord, that is so kind of you,” she forced a smile that told she wanted to kill him, “Is that all? You may leave now.” She was trying her best to stop the flood that was pouring out of her, all while keeping a straight face but it was out of her control now. There was no stopping it. “Oh, my Queen, I must say we’ve never had a ruler more generous and kind than Your Highness,” he went to sit on her bed, much to Charlotte’s horror, “My Queen is the fairest of all!” he laughed. Queen Charlotte felt like she’d rip him apart, but she was stuck on the window, her river of wee going on and on and on. Then finally he stood up, “Well, my Queen, I beg for your leave now. I’d look forward to seeing you at the feast,” he bowed and left with a smile, closing the door behind him. Charlotte let out a breath of relief. Lord Peter was an old man. She hoped he wouldn’t have noticed what she was doing. Her piss continued unabated for a few more minutes before she found the strength to cut off the flow and quickly climb off the window. She had botched her family name and her title of the Queen, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She still had to pee a lot but her bladder was now empty more than half, which meant she had let the pressure off enough to be able to ride home. She looked out of the window as she adjusted her smallclothes and found that the wall was drenched and at the ground a massive puddle sat as if made by an elephant. A small pond of warm piss. I shouldn’t have relieved myself like that. She felt a sense of guilt overcome her but she tried to suppress it. She quickly adjusted back her dress and went down for the feast. That whole night, the Queen didn’t even look at Lord Peter out of embarrassment, but the old man seemed normal to her, as if nothing had happened. Maybe he had not found out what she was doing back in the room. She thanked the God and participated in the feast with utmost graciousness. During the entire feast, Charlotte didn’t take any wine or beer but only stuck to timely sips of water. Her bladder was completely exhausted and the last thing she wanted was more liquid making its way into it. They left for the capital early on the morrow and after a few hours ride, they saw the massive walls of Godswick at a distance. People praised her name as she rode through the city streets and children ran behind her contingent. But Charlotte cared for none of it. Her desperation had grown since they had left the tower and the Queen once again found herself on the edge of losing control. She had to get to the castle, and fast. She found a small welcoming party along with the members of the royal council waiting for her at the foot of the King’s Fort, but she dismounted and walked past them, steeling herself from grabbing her crotch in full view of her people and leaving her son behind in her frantic run to reach the privy. My room. The privy. Have to go so badly, it all took over her mind as she stepped into the great hall of her castle, ignoring the guards. She slowly climbed the stairs that led to her chamber, stopping her piss at the gates. Her breathing was heavy and her bladder completely exhausted. Hurry, hurry, hurry! She told herself. It’s going to come out! She grabbed her crotch as tightly as she could. She would never know how she had managed to put off her need to wee for so long. Somehow she reached the top of the stairs, and she turned towards her chamber. Squeezing her crotch with her trembling hand as she held her breath tight. She screamed out loud as her bladder pulsated madly within her. She needed to piss so badly! And the pressure was increasing rapidly. Her pee was just a hair breadth away from completely pouring out of her and her chamber still seemed so far. Then suddenly a long jet of her hot wee escaped out of her and she stopped in her track, her eyes widened in fear. There was nothing more she could do. I got so close...just a few more- There was no stopping it anymore. Her piss exploded in a thick stream as relief washed over her body. The Queen was wetting herself. She tried her hardest to stop the flow but failed. She looked on in disbelief at the puddle of hot piss as it grew beneath her, her eyes still wide with fear and humiliation. “Stop! Please stop!” she sighed her hands holding her face on the sides. Her body was beaten. It could have not taken the pressure any more. My God, why did you let this happen to me?! Shame crawled up her skin. What if someone saw her like this? Wetting herself in the hallway. She could not let that happen. No. She’d be humiliated for the rest of her life. She needed to move from here, but her body was frozen. She could not move. Her legs trembling as the amazing relief flowed through her. “My Queen?” Charlotte’s heart practically stopped. She looked up, eyes wide. Her handmaidens Lucille and Mary stood before her, looking on with disbelief. The Queen was wetting herself. This was a sight they shouldn’t have witnessed. The Queen’s embarrassment flowed from under her dress like a river, soaking into the carpet and spreading out in every direction. Her body was fatigued and she was completely defeated, humiliated in front of her servants, everything she thought of herself as a Queen flowing out of her, dampening the bottom of her skirt. It just went on and on, a seemingly endless stream of hot piss that nearly reached Lucille and Mary who were standing several meters away. Despite the absorption of the carpet, the puddle reached the ledge of the second floor of the entrance hall and fell to the marble below. Charlotte could hear it splattering against stone even at this distance, and she knew there was absolutely no hiding such an accident. Even if she banished Lucille and Mary from the Capital, people would come into the hall at some point and see the mess coming from her wing of the castle. I'm going to have to run. Just shift to some other country and make a living as a cook. What if Iwan finds out about this? Oh, no! Not him! It was several minutes before her waterfall fell silent. Her puddle was almost ten feet in span and the only sound that could be heard was of her pee falling to the floor below. Her two servants still stood by, watching her in disbelief. She wished they would look away, but it made no difference now. Her body and mind fatigued, she looked at the two young girls. “So, what is going to happen now?” Charlotte asked them, a semblance of hurt and humiliation in her voice. “Are you going to run and tell everyone what I have done here? This is a good chance for you to have your vengeance for how poorly I’ve treated you all, isn’t it?” The two of them looked between Charlotte and her colossal puddle. They knew if the word of this got out, the Queen would have to face an embarrassment like no other. Mustering her voice, Mary spoke first. “It was me who did this. I lost control of my waters. Please, forgive me.” Charlotte sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time in what felt like days. “Oh, my sweet girl, that is so kind of you....,” she breathed. “However, nobody will believe that a tiny one like you could hold this much piss. I fear there is no possible way for me out of this.” “I couldn't hold it either,” Lucille said suddenly, “We were so occupied in preparing for your welcome since morning, that we didn’t get a chance to use the chamberpot. We beg for your pardon, Your Highness...,” At this very moment, Charlotte loved these girls like they were her own daughters. “You would take the blame for this, after how I have abused you over the years?” “We owe you everything we have, my Queen,” Lucille said, “We were born to serve you.” “I will never forget this,” Charlotte said, “You two will be rewarded with whatever you want for this.” “Please, my Queen,” Lucille said. “Just see yourself to your chamber to wash.” Charlotte nodded, her heart full of gratitude, before she rushed towards her chamber. The End
  18. Hey guys, So I just found this recently on YouTube. It looks like an interesting and very entertaining game, but I don’t have a clue what it’s called or where I can find it. In fact, I’ve scoured the comments section and the no one knows the name, nor is the owner telling anyone where the game came from. Frustrating ? If anyone can point me/ everyone else in the right direction, that’d be awesome! **** On a side note, are there any other games like this that I haven’t seen yet?
  19. Alex Oxford

    female Prime Suspects- May

    Hey guys, I thought I might elaborate on a one of the ladies, which I had mentioned in another thread, that I suspected of being into omorashi on some level, based on a summary of events, and a few specific experiences in particular. We’ll call her May; she was more than likely into pee desperation, and possibly into messing herself as well. She wore glasses, had a cute face, and was like 5’4” with beige skin, and respectable assets. She was adorable, and we would flirt on and off whenever we saw each other. She always struck me as a sweet girl, and I didn’t want to corrupt her, which I totally felt like I would. It wasn’t until later though, that I saw she had a naughty side to her. We were at the beach one day, with a few other friends, and she couldn’t help but mess with a few of our sleeping friends. She actually drew a dick with sunscreen on one of their backs, and let them get sunburned in the shape of said dick. That was my first cue that she wasn’t so innocent. My second cue was when she decided it would be a good idea to slap my ass. I told her, jokingly “I don’t do double standards, so if you’re gonna slap my ass I’m gonna have to slap yours.” Shitty reasoning, I know. But she smiled mischievously, and said, “well fair is fair!” And offered me a turn. I, of course took this as a cue to turn up the flirting. But it wasn’t till later that evening that I got the third cue: dinner. We had been walking around for awhile, and she was starting to whine about needing to pee. She was very vocal about it. To anyone else it might’ve seemed like she was just unashamed. But I could tell, by the way she was talking about it, she was gauging for reaction. She was stepping from foot to foot, wiggling her butt around, and walking in place. I started to tease her, “you look like you’re running a marathon!” “I’ve had to pee for hours now Alex, I have to go really bad!” She replied, with a nervous smile. “Why didn’t you go before? There’s like, bathrooms everywhere!” I pushed, wanting to see he reasoning. “Because,” she said, smiling, “I didn’t have to go that bad.” “So you have to wait till you’re dancing around to go pee?” “Well that’s usually a good time to go I think!” “Better hope you don’t get stuck in traffic like that!” “Oh I already did.” “Did you make it?” She giggle shyly, “Hahaha.... no, no I didn’t...” “YOU PEED YOUR PANTS!?” I asked, incredulously. “Yes, yes, I peed my pants!” She smiled, “The minute I got out of the car it was like, everywhere.” “You haven’t learned your lesson have you?” At this, she gave a cute little smirk, and a wry smile, which caught me altogether by surprise. I mean, I was just having fun. I’m super discreet when it comes to talking about bodily functions, at least as far as my interest goes. But she gave me some sort of “knowing look,” the “wouldn’t you like to know” look. I felt myself blush instantly, as she said, “obviously not, you can’t tell?” She returned to he friendly smile, but else crossed her legs and bobbed on the spot. “You better go soon or you’ll be in trouble,” I advised, amorously. “I’m a big girl, I can handle this!” But it seemed that’s all she wanted to do: handle it. For the next 30 min or so, we walked around the beach town, looked at stores, window shopped, all that jazz. The whole time, she was stepping from foot to foot, crossing her legs, and walking on the spot. For me, it was a clear indication that, a) she knew I found some sort of interest in her needs, and b) she had an interest in her needs herself Nothing conclusive at this point, but it was all I needed to make my night. I was practically drooling, watching her legs squirm back and forth, not frantically, but just enough that anyone who looked could tell she was in some state of restlessness. She would cross her legs and bob slowly, deliberately. She had a mildly anxious look on her face, but nothing That said urgency. It said, “I’m uncomfortable, but I can wait.” She was long past the point where anyone trying to be comfortable would’ve forgone a restroom for the sale of convenience. There were restrooms everywhere, she could go when she wanted. But she didn’t she kept doing her subtle pee dance, and I kept watching. I’d like to think she knew I was watching, and she was doing it to tease me. There was an incident that I had described here before, where she had done just that, very deliberately. But at this time, it was just fantasy. Still, I couldn’t help but notice that she had to pee fairly bad, and refused to go, which was enough to make my mind wander. Eventually, we went to a restaurant, and sat down to eat. She sat there with all of us, and subtly wriggled and squirmed next to my friend. He asked her what was wrong, and she said “I have to pee.” Freaking guy. He said, “well no ones stopping you!” Laughing, and pointing in the direction of the bathrooms. May nervously and briskly got up, now that her seating pee dancing was seemingly no longer welcome. I hate him for that. She came back, and I asked her, “Did everything come out okay?” She giggled and said, “Yes, I was very hydrated.” And that was the evening right there, nothing really intense after that. In fact, nothing other than friendly conversation for the rest of that night, despite the flirting. But later the next week, I got the most deliberate recognition and appeal to my fetish that I’d ever seen from anyone other than my girlfriend.
  20. Dravid61+

    female Love Wetting with Dee

    I HAVE LOOKED TO SEE IF THIS LOVE WETTING VIDEO IS ON HERE BUT WAS UNABLE TO FIND IT, APOLOGY THOUGH TO THE MEMBER IF THIS IS A RE-POST THANKS. This is Dee from Love Wetting where she is very, very desperate to pee and she as to drink 3 cans of beer. She starts with holding her crotch while pee dancing and drinking her first can of beer. She is instructed by her camera man to take up certain positions and release short bursts of pee and then to hold it on a number of occasions. We can see pools of pee where she as released it in different areas, how she manages to hold it in from when she first released it I don't know, her sphincter muscles must have been really working so hard here. How she manages to hold so much pee for just a slim woman I just do not know, although the beer that she as just drunk won't kick in for about another hour when she will be desperate again. Yeah I must warn you that at the end there is nudity Love Wetting with Dee.mp4
  21. The Twelve Fanatics – Founding Day Hello everyone! With permission from Hikewe, I've decided to write a little story based in his The Twelve Fanatics universe. This game has been a particularly effective time sink for me, possibly the best since the likes of Wetters Taiken or Mojique. Ever since playing, I've felt compelled to contribute, and I decided to write this short fic as a tribute for a game that I hope to continue to be developed. Now, unlike the current mechanics of The Twelve Fanatics universe, I issue a fair warning that this story will include pee and poop desperation, and even some messing. I decided on this mainly because I really loved the idea, and from a debate in the comments thread for the game as to whether it should be included as a gameplay element. However, it is certainly not my intention to sway anyone's opinion on that, especially Hikewne's. I just like the idea of desperate anime girls and clenched butt cheeks. So without further ado, on with the story! -------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter I: The Trek to Arcadia Solveig Bladder – Empty Bowels – Needing 2 Lily Bladder – Needing Bowels – Needing 2 Hecate Bladder – Desperate Bowels – Desperate Aria Bladder – Needing 2 Bowels – Empty “C'mon Sol, just gimmie thirty seconds behind that bush over there, I'll be done before anyone knows!” The sun was just starting to set on the horizon on the evening of December 17th, 1964, a warm day for such a month, as Solveig Tveit, Liliana Seuhans-Gagliardi, Princess Hecate Melaina Kardia, and Aria were traveling back to the capital city of Arcadia after finishing up on an assignment. The day was particularly special for the region's history, for it would mark the founding of the city exactly 500 years ago, the city celebrating each Founding Day with a massive festival with food, drink, dancing, and song. With the city being the nearest stop from where they completed their assignment, they had all decided to visit and join in on the festivities, Solveig still remembering the first and only Founding Day she attended years ago at the Capital, the bright lights and fireworks burned into her memory. Though the city was just a couple brief miles north, they would be far more brief if it weren't for- “Seriously, this coffee is going right through me, I already have to piss like a racehorse!” “Look, we both agreed that wouldn't be fair to Hecate and Lily. I have to pee too, but Hecate and Lily aren't going to do it unless they're bursting, and we don't want to rub it in their faces. Unless you're literally about to have an accident, I think we can wait a few miles.” “I am about to have an accident!” “...no you're not.” “Hmph...so I gotta nurse a pita fruit under my waistband cause they're too pee shy? Great.” Solveig would have chastised Aria for her callousness, but she had her own issues to deal with. Solveig was only telling a partial truth to Aria, she didn't have to pee at all, and in fact she had emptied her bladder earlier this morning while Lily, Hecate and Aria slept. No, her desperation was an entirely different animal as she gently pressed a hand to her tummy, which rumbled back at her: she had to poo, urgently. Maybe it was the nervousness of the mission they had just accomplished, breaking up that guild of thieves terrorizing both the Northern and Southern castle towns. Maybe it was the rations that they had been eating. But Solveig hadn't emptied her bowels in a good three days or so, and only today were they reminding her of their fullness. And this, rather than simply her concern for Hecate and Lily's desperation, drove her willingness to finish her business in a restroom, rather than outdoors. She had done such things during training, but never in front of her new comrades and friends, and she didn't want to be the first girl in this party to cross that threshold. Or at least, she wasn't desperate enough to do so. As she continued to massage her protesting lower tummy, Solveig looked up at Hecate and Lily, who were about 40 yards ahead. Though she couldn't be sure, she had a hunch she wasn't the only one telling a fib about only needing to pee. Solveig's hunch was, in fact, correct. Though her bladder was slowly becoming a more pressing issue, Lily's bowels were what worried her, constantly making their fullness known. She let out a soft gasp as she felt them clench, wishing that by some sort of divine miracle a restroom would drop out of the sky right in front of them all, but choosing a prayer more realistic, Lily chose instead to relax a bit, hoping that there was still some gas she could let out. As she did, Lily sighed as a silent toot issued between her cheeks, giving her guts a brief reprieve. But she knew it wouldn't last forever. “H-how are you holding up, Hecate?” “Oh I'm just grand, I'm absolutely bloody peachy, Liliana!” Hecate snapped angrily. Lily shrunk back a few steps in surprise and even a bit of fear, before looking away without a response, not wanting to irritate her any further. But after ten or so seconds of awkward silence: “...I'm sorry Lily, I didn't mean to snap, it's just that...by the Gods I need a toilet...” Hecate's cheeks burned as she said this. Even now, with all the time she had spent with Sol, Aria, and Lily, she always felt a flash of embarrassment when she admitted such needs. And she wasn't even getting started at the dark secret of the extent of her needs. Underneath her long, black dress, her bladder bulged against the waistband of her panties, filled nearly to capacity as she snuck a grab to the front of her dress, trying to give her muscles any assistance she could to the rapidly climbing pressure. Meanwhile, her bowels were clenching and kneading almost rhythmically now, loaded down with what days ago were field rations. Deep in the crevice of her pale bottom, her pink pucker twitched and winked as she fought to contain herself, even as her insides continued to coax her with promises of sweet, wonderful relief if she'd just raise the portcullis on her back gate and just let it all out. Though as she clenched up and issued her body yet another denial, her tummy reacted with an angry gurgle, the weight of her rectum's contents dropping down on her clenched anus like a massive battering ram, jarring a squeak out of her and forcing her to stop. “Hecate, are you alri-” FlrrrRRPT A blessing and a curse, on one hand the explosion that rang out of Hecate's rear gave her immediate, yet fleeting relief, and did not foul her panties or leave them feeling heavier. Nor did her bladder, jarred by the surprise of her release, decide to leak any of her waters. However, if Solveig or Aria hadn't heard her, than Lily certainly had. Beet red, Hecate turned to Lily, who had stopped beside her, feeling her own face go pink in vicarious embarrassment as she realized that Hecate, Princess of Kardia, had just farted in her presence. And quite noisily at that. “F-f-forgive me Lily! I-I didn't mean, it's j-just that-!” “You...you too?” Hecate cut her apology short when she heard Lily's much less...involuntary confession. “I...I know I said earlier that I just needed to pee, but I need to do...that...even worse-” This admission by Lily cut through the overwhelming embarrassment Hecate was assaulted with, and rather than feeling like curling up into a ball and disappearing off the face of Gaia, Hecate felt a genuine gratefulness to the archer. +10 Bonus Bonding points were gained by Hecate and Lily “Please Lily, I beg of you, don't let the others know, I-I can't bear anyone else-” “Don't worry, I'm embarrassed too, I won't tell anyone.” Though her spirits were lifted, Hecate couldn't deny it now, at least to herself, she was desperate at both ends. At this point, she might have asked the others to stop so she could find a spot to pee, but she couldn't bear the thought of all of them knowing that a Princess of Kardia needed to make what felt like a dragon-sized pile of leavings behind her where she would squat. Their proximity to the Capital only strengthened her resolve to simply grin and bear it. As they paused and redoubled their “defenses”, waiting for Solveig and Aria to catch up, Lily pondered asking her again, as she did earlier, if she would like to find a spot off the side of the road where she could relieve herself. Perhaps a part of her felt like if Hecate agreed, she would find it easier to do the same herself. However, knowing Hecate's refusal to take such measures in all but the most drastic circumstances, and knowing she'd be all the more adamant considering this was the brand of desperation she suffered from, Lily decided against bringing up this suggestion again. Instead, she offered her reassurances to Hecate. “Don't worry Hecate, Arcadia isn't too far, we'll make it-” Though it wasn't the first time Lily said this today, for the first time, she wasn't too sure she believed her own words... --------------------------------------------- Chapter II : At the Gate Solveig Bladder – Empty Bowels – Desperate Lily Bladder – Needing 2 Bowels – Needing 2 Hecate Bladder – Leaking Bowels – Desperate Aria Bladder – Desperate Bowels – Empty One hour later... “Finally!” Aria and Solveig groaned in unison as they approached the gates of Arcadia. The sun had just finished setting, leaving a beautiful orange glow over the mountainside as the moon was growing more visible overhead. However, the scenery was the last thing on each girl's mind as they each fought their own individual battles. In the time it took them to reach Arcadia's gates, Solveig had grown quite desperate, her anus constantly winking back her load as she struggled against the tremendous weight bearing down on her ring, clenching her buns with each contraction of her bowels, coming one after another, and each stronger than the last. She was just glad that soon, a nice seat on a porcelain throne would be her reward. On the other end of the spectrum was Aria. She had long since crossed the threshold of where she would have ventured off into the brush to pop a squat, but only Solveig's insistence had kept her from going off and relieving herself unilaterally. As she squirmed, pretzeling her legs, she let out a low grumble of frustration at her predicament. Meanwhile, Lily's bladder had caught up with her need to poop, and even though her less animated nature hinted that her urgency was, overall, less than her friends, she still was relieved that they'd be reaching a restroom soon. By any visible measure, Hecate both looked, and was, the worst off of the four. Hunched over slightly, a hand between her legs and another over her constantly clenching bottom, she waddled precariously. Several times already, her load had attempted to force itself into her panties, her muscles weakening and her anus beginning to dilate very much against her will. Her iron resolve as Kardian royalty and her desire not to shame herself and her bloodline was the only reason she found the strength to force her backdoor shut. However, with each urgent contraction in her lower tummy that forced her to focus all of her concentration on not soiling her panties, her bladder would take the opportunity to force a dribble or leak out. Hecate shifted her thighs together, the gusset of her panties clinging wetly to her quivering lips as she felt a rivulet run down her inner legs. If she had simply had to pee, she would have run for the nearest tree or bush right now. But Gods...imagine if Sol, Aria, or Lily had decided to join her, and they saw her making her dung on the grass, it was unthinkable... As cold sweat beaded at her forehead, and another rivulet of her urine ran down her thigh, she was thankful for this long dress... As they approached the gates, deeper inside the castle walls, they saw fireworks shooting into the air, and hear music even through the thick walls and massive timber gates. “Looks like the celebration is already s-starting.” Lily said, her voice betraying her growing need. “Do you think the park restrooms will be packed?” Solveig felt her stomach drop, and not just from the weight in her bowels. Founding Day was one of the biggest festivities of the year for Arcadia, and the last thing she needed to deal with now was a queue at the closest restroom the could reach. “I hope so, b-but it should be fine! How bad could it possibly be?” Solveig truly hoped that her optimism was founded, as she approached the gate guards, flashing her badge. “Solveig, Kriemhild special task force, r-requesting permission to enter the Capital. And please hurry.” “Ah, you ladies looking to get in on the festivities too? You're in luck, thing are just ramping up in there! Just be sure to let the guys at the barracks know it's their turn to relieve us now.” Solveig shuddered and clenched her ass as the word “relieve”. She would have rather listened to any other word at the moment... As the gates slowly swung upon, the four girls were greeted by an absolute spectacle. It seemed every single person in Arcadia was out on the street. Concession stands were up and selling cakes and sweets, citizens were costumed and dancing merrily to the music that seemed to be pouring from the center of town, and every other person was drinking, laughing, and in good spirits. Even her memory of her last Founding Day didn't live up to the expectation of how massive this festival was. Pushing through the crowds, Solveig's initial hopes for easy relief grew dimmer and dimmer, but were utterly crushed, along with the rest of the girls, when they finally reached the edge of the park, the restrooms within sight. A massive queue seemed to pour out of the ladies room, and unlike the Gents, the queue seemed to stay stagnant as they approached. “How bad can it possibly be?” Aria hissed mockingly, before suddenly storming off. “Fuck this, I'm about to piss myself, I'll find somewhere else to go.” “Aria, wait!” Solveig called, but Aria soon disappeared into the crowd Aria has left the party. As Solveig turned back towards the others, Lily was still at her side, but Hecate was already halfway to the restroom queue, her awkward waddle betraying how badly she needed the toilet at the end of the line. “S-Sol, what do we do?” Lily asked worriedly as she squirmed on the spot, Solveig looking in the direction where Aria ran off to, and towards Hecate. “Aria should be fine, we should join Hecate. The Embassy restrooms will probably be even worse than this, the park restroom is our best chan-AH!” Solveig was cut off as the load she was holding descended, her pucker doming out as she fought off each wave of urgent, painful contractions. As she did though, her bowels nevertheless forced out a series of low, audible toots from her bottom as every last ounce of room in her rectum was forcibly appropriated for its more solid contents. As her face burned, she was about to offer an explanation to Lily, when she felt her hand taken by her and led to the restroom queue. “You're not the only one-” Lily stammered. “Lets just hurry!” Ten minutes have passed. As the trio waited in line, it indeed appeared that the queue was going nowhere fast, and they seemed to not be the only ones there who were desperate. In fact, when the line did inch forward, it wasn't because people were exiting the restroom. No, in fact the line only seemed to shorten when people simply left the line, without ever setting foot inside. Some did so out of frustration, grumbling about the state of Arcadia's public restrooms, but as Solveig watched, some left for much more dramatic reasons... ...like a young woman letting out a squeal of distress as she buried her hands under her skirt and ran off, her legs shimmering with her waters in the light of the moon, the fireworks, and the park's lamps... ...or a curvaceous mother in a skintight, body-hugging harlequin costume who was squirming frantically in line suddenly hunching over. Her hands on her plump belly, the seat of her brightly colored and patterned tights starting to tent out, before she too stepped out of line and beckoning her husband and two young children over. Solveig caught part of their under-breathed conversation as she waddled past, trying to act casually, but the children unable to help but giggle at their mother's curious and, in their eyes, humorous predicament: “Oh Gods, Halli I-I-I can't wait for this restroom, I'm s-starting to go in my panties-!” she whispered panickedly to her husband. “Ssh, just hang on and try and hold the rest Kara! The house isn't too far away, just act naturally! We'll be there soon!” “But I can't make it that f-far! N-nnh!” Solveig watched as the woman paused briefly, hunching over again, the tent in the rear of her tights suddenly ballooning and crackling out to a much larger bulge, her husband going wide-eyed and her children giggling harder. Clearly embarrassed, she waddled quickly towards the cobblestone roads with her husband and children in tow, the heavy bulge swaying between her shapely butt cheeks continuing to grow before they were out of sight. If she didn't want to end up like that woman, she had to do something. Taking a deep breath, fishing out her badge, and clenching up her bottom as tightly as she could, she turned to Lily. “Stay here with Hecate. I'm going to see what the holdup at the front of the line is.” “O-okay, just please, whatever you're going to do up there, just hurry!” Hecate just nodded, gritting her teeth as the urgency to empty her bladder and bowels came in incessant waves. This was it, if something wasn't done soon, her panties were going to be soaked and filled. One minute has passed As Solveig reached the front of the line, she flashed her badge again. “Alright, w-what seems to be the problem here, his line isn't moving at all!” Several women immediately, and pleadingly responded. “Two of the toilets are broken!” “The third one is being hogged!” “There's only one toilet for all of us!” After first calming down the women squirming for their turn, she turned towards the stalls. She would have given anything to just rush ahead and take one for herself, even the broken ones, but for now she could only control the situation and speed up the queue. Trying to use her authority to cut in line at this point could start a damned riot. Solveig stepped stiffly towards the stall containing the “toilet hog” and rapped sharply on the door. As rude as it was, Solveig had run out of patience. “J-just a minute! I'm a bit constipated!” a woman from inside called. “Listen here, there are dozens of women out here waiting patiently for their turn, many of them having accidents while waiting! By the authority of Kriemhild's security services, either you leave that restroom in sixty seconds, or I will personally kick that door down and drag you out!” Solveig regretted being so harsh, but her rant was greeted by cheers and whistles from the queued women inside the restroom. When the very embarrassed woman left the restroom, the queue's pace quickly doubled, but Solveig, wanting to minimize any more accidents, began working her way down the line, triaging the women she saw as she slowly made her way back towards Hecate and Lily. If she saw someone looking desperate, she'd move them further up the line, and if she saw someone starting to lose control, she'd whisk them to the very front. Meanwhile, Lily and Hecate watched as, for the first time, the queue began to move in earnest. Lily's heart leapt with hope, in the time they were in line her need to poo had increased dramatically, and she constantly had to squeeze and flex her bottom to keep her load inside. “H-Hecate! We're moving! We''ll be at the front in no time....Hecate?” Hecate did not respond, instead quivering where she stood as she brought both hands back to her butt cheeks, trying to squeeze them shut. Yet despite this, the powerful wave of pressure knotting her bowels was only weakening her grip, and horror of horrors, she felt her anus begin to fully dilate. Her face grew hot, sweat running down her brow as her load began to push past her defenseless cheeks. “Hecate, just a bit longer, the line is moving!” “Nnnn....nnngh...!” Instead of a sharp pain, or a dull, powerful contraction that would subside if she clenched hard enough, the urge that built up inside Hecate was one that built up to a tall plateau that didn't seem to taper off, an insurmountable wave that no longer accepted excuses or denials. No, it would keep building until it got a compromise. Despite Hecate's best efforts, it was simply too much for her as a foul spear poked out from exhausted, overworked anus. Groaning as she tried to fight it back, it only widened her further, stretching the Kardian Princess to her limit, before making landfall in the seat of her panties. Even then, her body continued to push rhythmically and involuntarily, inch by inch, feeling her underwear sag with the weight, before finally heaving the remainder of the log into them. Then, and only then did the urge finally grant her some mercy. Hecate stood there, panting, feeling the hot, hard pillar nestled against her rear. In the back of her mind, she knew, she felt, that there was much more inside her that needed out. But that was overshadowed by the mortifying realization: She, Princess Hecate Melaina Kardia, had pooped in her panties. Lily watched the whole thing. Though her black dress offered a great deal of concealment, from behind, Lily could see Hecate's dress bulge out slightly from the rear. “Hang on Hecate! I'll get Sol!” Lily darted towards the front of the line. Solveig was midway between the restroom and where she figured Lily and Hecate would be, whisking another grateful girl to the front of the line when she noticed that she was starting to wet her pants, when she saw Lily running towards her. “Sol! You gotta come quick, it's Hecate, she's-” Lily saw some of the other queued women looking in her direction, and she lowered her voice appropriately. “Sol, she's starting to have an accident!” “Oh no...” Lily and Solveig made their way back to Hecate, who was right where she was previously, but at this point on her last legs. Her face was a brilliant shade of magenta, and the combination of her embarrassment and the fullness of her bladder was causing her to leak in panicked little spurts into her underwear. Trying her best to balance holding in her water and her dung, and losing both battles. “C'mon Hecate, I'll take you to the front of the line, I ca-n-nnnngh!” Solveig's desperate need to poo, though temporarily preoccupied as she took control of the situation with the queue, suddenly made their presence known with a vengeance. The urge came on suddenly and strongly, catching her completely off guard. “S-Sol!” Lily gasped as she watched Solveig double over slightly, putting her hands on her lower tummy, a rumble coming from it loudly enough for all three girls to hear. In training, Solveig had heard all manner of vulgarisms from her fellow trainees. One in particular that she learned, when a trainee was caught short and needed to unburden their bowels, very accurately described the state that Solveig was in at the moment. Solveig was touching cotton. Badly. ----------------------------------------------------- Chapter III: Salvation Solveig Bladder – Empty Bowels – Leaking Lily Bladder – Needing 2 Bowels – Desperate Hecate Bladder – Leaking Bowels – Leaking Solveig remained rooted to the spot, her log halfway inside her, and the other half wedged between her cheeks and pressing against her panties. She dared not move. She dared not breathe. Gods, how did she get herself into this predicament...she could have just browbeaten Hecate and Lily to go in the bushes outside town earlier. Sure, she might have hurt their feelings, but at least they wouldn't be stranded in a glacially-moving queue, slowly soiling themselves as they fought the inevitable. Her mind raced, could she go to the front of the line now, and flash her badge to get herself a spot in the queue? No, the ladies she got to the front of the line would riot if she used her authority in such a way. She thought grimly that maybe she could get Lily and Hecate to the front, nobody knew they were members of the security forces as well. Meanwhile she would stay in line and...tried to prolong what at this point was most likely assured... They could all look for somewhere to go like Aria did, but with this crowd? There wasn't an alley or corner that didn't have another Arcadian citizen two feet away. As her log continued to push her panties away from her butt, Lily stood by helplessly, getting a feeling that at this rate, she would be next. However, when all seemed lost... “Hecate! Lily! Sol!” Aria came sprinting towards them across the grass, panting softly as she stopped, shifting and crossing her legs. “Come with me! I've found a place where the four of us can go!” “W-what do you mea-ahhnnn-!” another wave of urgent clenching took Solveig's breath away as she fought to stay in control. Aria saw the state of all the girls, but homed in on Hecate. Judging by her appearance, she didn't have to take too many guesses to know what was happening under her dress. “Hecate, I know somewhere you can go, but you have to trust me.” “B-b-buh-” Hecate was on the verge of tears now, her bowels deciding that a taste of relief was not enough, as her pucker began to widen again. Hecate looked up at Aria. She always knew her as headstrong, crass, and even downright insensitive, but she saw a look of earnestness and concern in the Observers' eyes, something that she rarely saw. Without much alternative, Hecate nodded, unable to say much else, as Aria took her hand and slowly escorted her out of the line. Aria has rejoined the party! Hecate Bladder – Leaking Bowels – Empty “Lily, can you take Sol?” “S-sure!” Lily responded, taking Solveig's hand. “Can you walk?” “If I do...I...I might-” Solveig stammered. “Well you will anyway if you wait here, so come on!” Lily responded, with a rare hint of command in her voice. Despite it all, Solveig felt a glimmer of hope at whatever Aria had planned, and biting the bullet, willed herself to move. Inevitably though, her bowels protested as she walked, a twitch of her pucker causing the log to break off and settle in the seat of her panties. She felt the weight dragging them down while she walked, as she struggled not to poo them any more. Reaching a hand behind her skirt and lifting it a bit, she grabbed the waistband of her underwear, hoping she could make it to wherever Aria was taking them without her panties ending up around her ankles. The crowds thinned out as they reached a lightly forested area in the park close by, where despite the crowds of people meandering not too far away, at least no one could see them. But when they turned the corner around a thick patch of some bushes and trees... Several other women were dropped down and squatting down, relieving themselves. This didn't seem to faze Aria, as she brought them closer. “Apparently a few people back at that queue decided this was a better spot, and honestly I gotta agree. Now c'mon, pop a squat before some creepers walk up on us!” Solveig, despite the prohibition on public urination or defecation inside the walls of Arcadia, was no longer in any position to argue. Nor could she judge any of the strangers before her, none of them looking like drunken revelers, rather just desperate women who'd needs become too great to wait anymore. She could hardly cite them, since in a moment she was going to join them... Walking stiffly towards a tree, where another woman was squatting, she hiked her skirt up, fumbling with the waistband of her panties before yanking them down, and dropping into a quick squat at last. “Ahhhnnnngods....!” An almost erotic groan of relief exited Solveig's lips as the remainder of her first log slid out to the grassy ground below, joining the other half that had rolled out of her panties as she squatted down, and she was soon joined by Lily, who after overcoming her initial hesitation, squatted down and herself let out a sigh of relief as she emptied her bladder and bowels next to Solveig. Solveig's leavings were soon joined by a second log, and she was halfway through pushing out a third when a voice next to her spoke up. “Oh dear, you too?” Solveig looked to her right and saw the squatting stranger nearby. It was the curvy harlequin mom from the queue earlier....Kara, she believe her name was, in the middle of finishing a poo that, from what Solveig could see, ended up mostly in her panties and tights before she could get them down. She was panting softly from either relief or exertion. And her face was pink and dewy, from either exertion, or more likely, the current state of her bottomwear. “Hnnh....d-don't be embarrassed sweetie, I started f-hnnkhh-filling my panties in that dreadful queue too, I couldn't even make it home! If it weren't' for this, I'd be in an even worse ssshnn-state than I am now-” “H-hah-t-thank you...” Solveig replied breathlessly. She didn't know what else to say, too lost in her relief, and pushing out the remainder of her poo, to contemplate much else. When she looked down, she noticed that, thankfully, her panties were still quite clean. A small skidmark here and there, but this would be bearable for now, and was certainly much better than Kara would have to deal with... “Are you here for the festival too? If you'd like, you can freshen up at my house. It's probably less crowded than the inns in town right now.” Solveig thought for a moment, she did like this idea. “...y-you know...sure, I...I can take you up on that! What do you think Lily?” “Mmmhhh...” Lily, on her left, was lost in her own relief, a significant pile behind her ass as a hissing stream issued between her thighs to the grass below. “Just...give her a moment.” Meanwhile, on the other side of the patch of bushes, Aria and Hecate were facing one another. Hecate's hands were planted firmly on the sides of her bottom, squeezing for dear life. If she let go, she was certain that the contents of her bowels would come spilling forth with hopeless abandon. “Alright, just lift up your dress and-” “A-Aria-!” “Seriously?! Look Hecate! I am literally b-bursting at the seams right now, and I still came back to you when I found this place! If you give me that r-royal froofy 'I'm too good for this' nonsense, I am seriously gonna-!” “A-Aria! H-help me lift up my d-d-dress! N-now! I-I-I can't-” Aria blinked for a few seconds as she processed the request. “...oh! Yeah sure!” Kneeling down, Aria began to lift Hecate's dress up to thigh level, her eyes widening when she saw the true extent of her desperation as rivulets of her waters raced down her thighs. The sight of this only made her own bladder contract sympathetically, and though she'd only lost a few leaks before now, the sight of Hecate starting to lose control like this was causing her to squirt in her pants. Despite this, she steeled herself to follow through. “O-okay, when I pull up your dress, you yank your panties down and s-s-squat. Ready?” Hecate nodded frantically, her whole body ready to give in to her urges with relief at hand. She was so close, but her bladder's frantic spurts began to merge into one long hiss, and another log began to push its way between her cheeks, threatening to overload her panties- “....NOW!” Aria yanked up Hecate's dress the remainder of the way, Hecate letting go of her bottom and grabbing her panties, yanking them down while quickly dropping into a squat. Nothing. No fine wine, no fine food, no fine men...no mortal pleasure on Gaia could match what Hecate felt at that moment, squatting down just as the floodgates opened and the avalanche began. A dull thud could be felt through the ground as the first log she lost in the queue hit the grass below, another log spilling forth atop it, followed almost immediately by a powerful, angry hiss of her water gushing between her legs. Aria, meanwhile, losing control of her own bladder, frantically undid her pants and dropped into a squat next to her, letting out a groaning sigh of relief as she did, her stream exceeding even Hecates. “AH-ah-ahhhnn....” Hecate moaned as her wastes continued to pour forth, no longer caring who saw, who judged, the relief taking her in blissful ecstacy. But, after what seemed line an eternity, the two finally finished, panting side by side as they remained squatted. Before them, their urine had flooded the grass with a shimmer that looked as though a heavy rain had passed recently. Behind Hecate, there was a pile that, as she saw her leavings and laughed at the absurdness, perhaps could have been mistaken for a dragon's! “Hahhhn...you...you came back for for us? E-even though y-you-” Hecate avoided the rudeness of gesturing or pointing, but she was referring to the sodden state of Aria's panties, not to mention the significant wet patch between the legs of her pants. She had not lied, she did go back for the others before tending to her own needs, even at the expense of her clothes. “H-heh, l-lets just say I got a conscience when I saw you guys from here~” Hecate took Aria's hand as the fireworks of the Founding Day celebration exploded skyward, cheers ripping through the crowds in the street. Though the Observer got on her nerves to no end...at the moment the Kardian Princess could think of no better person to trust at her side as she did something as private as what she had done. “T-thank you Aria...” +75 bonus Bonding Points were gained...
  22. Hey guys ? I have a quite a few sightings over the years. Some of which during were on a Saturday night, where after drinking, partying, and having so much fun, some ladies completely forget to use the bathroom. Or better yet, some of them definitely have to use the bathroom, but can't be bother with the "inconvenience." ? Other sightings were random desperate moments I observed in a grocery store that just happened to make my day. Either way, here of some of my favorite little snippets of desperation. I was out on a Saturday night, leaving a bar as my friends and I went their separate ways. I was feeling kind of hungry, so I went to a local taco place. Not only did they have good tacos, but they only had one stall for each bathroom. Better yet, each bathroom was locked with a key, which sometimes gets lost, or maybe the staff is too busy to go and fetch it from the back. Either way, those doors a locked quite frequently, likely to the dismay of several desperate women that may enter the restaurant after all the bars have been closed. One evening, I myself happened to be in line, when a busty latina girl in a peach cocktail dress came rushing in. She had her hands pressed against the crotch of her dress, and her bladder was visibly bulging out from her dress. She tried the door, and surprise: it was locked. "Ohhhh, I have to pee soooo bad." She moaned to herself, and immediately broke into a pee dance, stepping from one foot to the other, crossing her legs, and bouncing up and down. She didn't care if anyone was watching, it was likely all she could do to keep from wetting herself. The door stayed shut. She knocked several times, but no answer. "What is this bitch doing in there." She mumbling to herself, stepping from foot to foot. "Maybe you should ask her," I teased, as I continued to wait in line for my hand washing. "That's a great idea," she smiled at me, "HEY BITCH WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE!?" Hands down, one of the funniest things I've seen, ever. "Oh god, I'm gonna piss myselfffff." She moaned, double crossing her legs and bending forward, giving me an excellent view of her cleavage. "Should I ask them for a wet floor sign?" I laughed jokingly. I'm an asshole, I know. "HAHA! Don't make me laugh or you will!" She giggled, with a forced smile. We chatted for another minute or two before my turn was up, and I very quickly washed my hands ti get back out there to enjoy the show. When I left the bathroom she was walking in place. "Working on your cardio?" I asked suggestively. "I'm about to pee myself, I don't need this kind of positivity in my life right now." She giggled, bending forward with her hands pressed firmly between her thighs. "I'll leave you to it then!" I giggle, returning to my table. The girl continued to furiously potty dance at the bathroom door, stepping from foot to foot, bouncing up and down, and all around trying to keep her panties dry kind of dance moves. Just then, a slim Asian gal came from the front of the cash register, with key in hand, and walked right past the dancing girl into the bathroom. The girl, with her mouth agape, muttered "are you f**king kidding me?" She bit her lip and started lifting her thighs up to her waist, in a high step potty dance. Who knows how long this Asian girl would be in the restroom? Hopefully long enough for me to see this beautiful Latin women finish her dance routine, or even better, long enough that I could go fetch that 'wet floor' sign. She knocked on the door with urgency, still lifting her heels to her waist, and alternating between that and kicking her heels back behind her. No response. She knocked on the men's room. Apparently, there was someone in there as well, but she felt she had a better chance of staying dry if she stuck around there for a bit. After maybe another minute of furious pee dancing, leg crossing, and other sexy variations of "don't wet yourself," the men's room opened and she rushed inside. She walked out looking very relieved, flashed me a friendly smile, and got in line for some tacos. Kinda made my night.
  23. holditin

    Indra vs Kira

    I just wanted to give a little introduction to this latest story of mine. It was not written how all my others have been, sitting at my computer and typing away. Rather, this one was written on my phone during bus rides to work over a span of many months. I looked it over and believe there are no plot holes or egregious repeats of words, but if there are, that's the reason for it. After finishing it on my phone, I went onto my computer and typed it all out, which took nearly a week's worth of free time to finish. So I hope everyone enjoys it, because I put in a lot of work to make it happen. Also, if anyone has future story ideas they'd like to see, as long as they involve a bladder of steel or two, be sure to message them to me. I love hearing new ideas. And without further ado, here's Indra vs Kira. Day 1 Growing up as a girl in India, my parents tended to be strict with me on certain issues. My bedtime, meal portions, and most central to this particular story, my bathroom habits. You see, in the area we lived in, sanitary bathrooms were not exactly easy to come by. This problem was doubled by the fact that I was a girl, because while men had no hesitation in whipping it out and taking a leak on a side road, it was considered extremely indecent for me to pop a squat in any but the most enclosed of spaces. Unfortunately, luck was not on my side in this matter, because growing up I had always had a bladder that was, shall we say, below average. That’s probably putting it kindly, as my parents would complain to no end about my lack of control. But whether they tried forbidding bathroom breaks, mandating regular sphincter training, or even messing with liquid intake, it didn’t make a difference. I was just as liable to pee myself no matter what, a fact that brought my parents great shame. I couldn’t deal with the constant embarrassment, and when an opportunity arose for me to escape the situation, I took it. A special exchange program had been set up with some high schools in my district of India and some in the southern United States of America. I graded highly enough in my studies to qualify for the opportunity, and I jumped at the chance. My parents didn’t really question my decision, and I think they realized it would be best for everyone involved. Two weeks later I was a freshman at Houston Area High School in beautiful Texas. All exchange students were set up in college style apartments, and though we were admittedly young to basically be living on our own, we all quickly got the hang of it. An interesting thing happened when I was finally free from the burden of my parents; constant pressure – my bladder control began to improve. At first I thought I was just imagining things, but as my pees became more and more volumous, I had to admit that my bladder actually seemed to be getting bigger. Before long I wasn’t peeing at all during the school day, and after such a long time of hating my weak bladder, I quickly began gaining pride in my new and improved holding tank. Even my classmates began to take notice of how long I was waiting before relieving myself. By my senior year I was a bona fide All Day Girl. My bladder of steel always seemed to have extra room, no matter how much I drank or how long I went without a bathroom break. As my senior year drew to a close, my parents made arrangements to come and visit for the graduation, followed by a trip around the US, as they had never been there before and intended to take it all in. As we chatted on the phone a week prior to the visit, making final preparations, I casually mentioned that I was much better at waiting for bathroom breaks now. Instead of the flood of well wishes I expected to receive for this comment, my mother gave a short laugh, one quickly echoed by my father, and sarcastically told me that that was good. She then changed the subject entirely. It was clear to me that she didn’t believe me in the slightest. When the conversation ended I found myself nearly heartbroken by this… But then my demeanor changed. If they weren’t going to believe me, then the only way to prove it to them would be to show them in person. My graduation took place on a cool Saturday evening at a converted church, of all places. My parents were both in attendance, along with my older sister Kira. Oh Kira, as happy as I was to see my older sister, just now finishing her studies in engineering at a respected Indian university, I couldn’t help but be reminded of how she was the favorite sibling of Mom and Dad. Not only was she admittedly more studious than I and regarded as a much better and more proper Indian woman, but Kira also kept my parents’ favor by way of her iron bladder control. While I was complaining of holding it after mere hours, Kira would be showing no greater sign of needing a toilet than pressing her thighs together, often waiting the better part of a day before seeking relief. I was sure she had kept up with her bladder training while at university, but secretly I hoped my capacity had overtaken hers. I was backstage, waiting for the graduation ceremony to begin, when I peered to the seating area and saw my family choosing a good vantage point from which to spot me. I watched as Kira held the seats while my parents visited the lavatories. While they still prided their daughters on their ability to last without a restroom, age had finally caught up to them in this regard. Kira seemed to be keeping her legs close together, but otherwise looked as calm and frankly as beautiful and perfect as she had years ago when I had seen her last. I had no shame admitting that she was the taller, prettier sister, but hopefully I could now make the case for being the better-bladdered sister. In accordance with my plan to achieve this end, I took another long swig from the water bottle I was carrying with me. Two others sat empty in a waste bin, consumed in the hour since I’d arrived at the church. I’d relieved myself at noon and that was it. Now it was closing in on 7 pm, so I was definitely feeling something building up inside me, but thanks to my newfound status as an All Day Girl, there was no urgency. Finally, at 7, the ceremony began. Truthfully it was overly long and induced severe boredom, both among the graduates and the audience, but it was still a rush to hear the name “Indra Patil” boom over the pa system as I made my way across the stage. I beamed as my family shouted and cheered for me, and that high was enough to sustain me until we were all made free to go at 9 pm. “Indra, darling! That was wonderful!” My mother yelled with delight as she hugged me tight in the lobby. My father was next, more compoased but as happy as I’d ever seen him nonetheless. Big sis gave me a good hug as well, and I was on cloud 9 when my mother suddenly asked, “Do you need to use the bathroom before we leave for the hotel?” I furrowed my brow and replied incredulously, “Isn’t it only a 15 minute ride from here?” “Well yes,” my mom replied, “But I just wanted to make sure you’d be alright. That was a long ceremony, after all, and I know you’re not like Kira. You haven’t gone since the airport back in Mumbai, have you?” Kira shook her head, demurely so as not to embarrass me further, but clearly still proud of her bladder’s lasting ability. I still noticed my sister’s closely held legs and took note that the long hold was taking its toll. While my own bladder was also nagging me due to the three waters I’d chugged down, I made a point to stand with my legs apart as I responded, “It’s ok. I’m not a little girl anymore. I can hold it if I need to. I was actually hoping we could go out to dinner before we hit the hotel.” My father merely shrugged as if to say “your funeral” while my mother regarded me with a look that mixed slight shock with begrudging respect. She then turned to my sister, no doubt aware that Kira had probably been expecting to get free from her long held waters within the hour. “Is that ok with you?” My mother asked her. No mention was made of Kira’s bladder state, but the implication was clear. My mother knew my iron bladdered sister had been holding on for most of the day, and she didn’t want to push the golden goose too far. Tension hung in the air, however, because it was not often that Kira even needed to be consulted about such a matter. But my sister, my perfect, irrepressible sister, just smiled and nodded, “Of course, dinner would be lovely!” Only my well-trained eye saw that her smile was fake. And so we went to a nearby steakhouse for some much needed sustenance. My family was unaccustomed to the Texas cuisine but quickly grew to enjoy it, despite “its lack of anything resembling spice” as my father put it. by the time we’d reached the restaurant those water bottles were definitely wanting to come out of me, but I just handled the increasing pressure and sipped at my medium Coke. I was used to enduring classes with more of an urge than this, so I knew I’d be ok. Kira was also drinking sporadically from her glass of water, but I caught a glimpse of her legs under the table, and they were crossed at the ankles. She was keeping her composure quite well, however, and I wondered briefly if I’d underestimated her bladder capacity. As dinner progressed and Kira’s need didn’t seem to increase, my skepticism in my own bladder returned. Here I was, a confident girl with a bladder that had grown enough to take on all comers in the last couple of years, but as soon as I found myself in the same situation I’d faced so many times as a kid, it was like I reverted back to the state of mind I had all those years ago. Suddenly my brain was telling me that my bladder wasn’t big enough or strong enough to last, especially compared to my ever so perfect big sis. Dinner was finished by 10 and with nothing left to distract me, my bladder felt like a lead weight in my abdomen. At this point I couldn’t tell how much of my urgency was psychological and how much was the 2 plus liters of liquid I’d consumed wanting to escape. As we readied to rise from the table, I was presented with a defining choice. I could admit my need to my parents, follow them dutifully but shamefully to the restrooms and pee to my heart’s content while Kira and her superbladder waited outside. This was the safe option. I’d already lasted longer than any of my family expected, after all. The point had been made to an adequate degree, and maybe, just maybe, I’d held long enough to earn my parents’ respect. Or…I could follow through with my original plan. I could wait longer, and trust that my bladder had enough space and strength in it to last until we reached the hotel. I could prove that my bladder was now a match for Kira. I was on shaky legs as I got up from the table, more from the gravity of the choice in front of me than from my desperation. I glanced over at Kira as she stood. When she thought no one was looking, my sister pressed her legs together hard. It only lasted a second before she went back to standing normally, but I had seen it, and that bit of desperation inspired me. Kira’s bladder was strong, but it wasn’t superhuman. She needed relief at some point too. Perhaps I could last as long. Gritting my teeth to keep from opening my mouth and backing out of my risky decision to continue holding, I followed my family towards the bathrooms. My father entered the men’s room with a grunt, and my mom walked towards the ladies’. When she got to the door she realized that I was not behind her, and turned to ask me, “Aren’t you using the bathroom now dear? You haven’t gone since just before the ceremony.” I nearly just shook my head as a response, but when my mother added that second sentence so naturally, as if it was obvious that I’d peed my tiny bladder empty right before walking on stage because that was surely the only way I’d lasted this long, I couldn’t help but issue a confident retort. “Don’t worry mother. I can wait until I am at a more proper place.” My mother again gave me that look I’d seen so rarely out of her, a mixture of respect and bewilderment, before entering the bathroom to relieve herself. My sister and I stood and made chitchat, both clearly very much in need of the toilets that were now mere feet away, but both continuing to resist them out of pride and good manners. If Kira was impressed with my holding ability thus far she certainly wasn’t showing it. I consoled my ego by telling it that she was clearly just much too desperate to pay me the proper attention. But soon enough our parents returned. Thankful to be spared of more awkwardness, I began to walk out of the restaurant. “Indra, are you sure you don’t also need to go?” My mom asked from behind me. This time I just smiled and shook my head. We arrived at the hotel at 11 at night. 11 hours since I’d seen the inside of a restroom, and probably a few more than that for poor Kira. Despite my sister’s reputation, she was obviously eager to get to our room and free herself from her load of pee. Our room was on the 3rd floor, and when we reached it Kira was the first to enter. She put down her purse on one of the beds while the rest of us entered and quickly made her way into the bathroom situated near the front door. To say she ran in or desperately entered is to do a disservice to Kira’s composure. Her huge bladder is known in my family for a reason, after all. But at the same time, the large amount of urine she was containing clearly needed exit soon, one way or another. My own bladder was beginning to brim with fullness, and I feared that my composure probably didn’t far exceed my sister’s at this moment. I clenched my sphincter hard in anticipation of having to hear Kira’s stream pounding the toilet bowl, and my intuition was correct. There were a few seconds of rustling sounds, followed by a loud hiss as Kira’s piss finally escaped her. My own bladder began to spasm at the sound. It was all I could do to bunch my hands up in my graduation robe and not hold myself openly. I knew that if I did I’d lose all the respect I’d built up with my parents over the course of the night. After perhaps two minutes Kira’s stream dwindled and stopped. It was a piss to remember, and normally I’d be marveling at my sister’s unbelievable bladder capacity. But after my time in America, I was no longer as impressed. In fact, I thought I could take her. Another minute and Kira exited the bathroom, looking truly comfortable for the first time in hours. My father was busy unpacking, but my mother leaned over and told Kira, “It was good of you to wait.” That was about as close as my parents would ever get to addressing someone else’s bladder need, even in private. Kira nodded to her, equal parts confident and delighted to have made her mother happy. Then my sister turned to me, and I saw her smile waver just a bit as she looked me in the eye. In the good old days such a urinary feat would have been met with reverence, respect, and perhaps a tinge of jealousy from me. But as I looked back at her, I knew she saw none of those elements in my visage now. It was time to put the final stage of my plan into action. Casually I walked to the bathroom. My bladder began spasming again with its relief now so near at hand, but I forced myself to continue walking normally. I entered, took off my grad robe, pulled down the skirt I had underneath, then my sliiightly skimpy panties, and released. The whole day of tanking up on drinks had led to this moment, and I hoped it would be worth it. My urine began to hit the water below it, first as a pitter patter, but steadily increasing in volume and strength. 15 seconds into my pee and it sounded nearly like a jet was taking off in the bathroom. Being in such an enclosed space, it was tough to gage how loud my pee was compared to my sister’s, but either way I knew without a doubt that everyone in the bedroom could hear what I was pouring into the toilet. I tried to stop it, but as the waterfall continued to emanate from my vagina, a moan of pleasure escaped my lips. I loved being able to contain so much pee for so long, but when it finally had to come out, the relief was sure worth it. Another minute passed and I felt myself starting to grow empty. Wanting to make this as good a show as possible to my sure to be listening family, I squeezed off my flow until it was a mere trickle. I let that thin stream go on for a good 20 seconds, no problem for my sphincter muscles, even after such a taxing hold, just to let them all think I was about ready to finish up. Then I bore down with everything I had, instantly flushing the rest of my piss out of my stretched bladder and into the bowl. The hiss this produced was extraordinary, as what had to be a half liter of pee was expelled from me in a matter of seconds. Empty at last, I breathed deeply, trying to compose myself. Inside, my mind was a whirlwind, wondering how my family would react to such a display, especially from the supposed runt of the litter, bladder-wise. I quickly pulled my garments back up, heart beating like crazy, washed my hands, and reentered the bedroom. My parents were making a show of busying themselves with unpacking, but I could tell it was a put on. The tension in the room was palpably thick. My newfound bladder capacity was the elephant in the room. As I prepped for bed I saw Kira staring at me. Her face showed concentration, but also something else. Then she nodded slightly and went to change. I pondered that look for an hour as I tried to fall asleep on the hard hotel bed, and finally I figured it out, just before I drifted off to sleep. While I’d intended for my huge piss to be the end of my plan, in reality I’d just thrown the gauntlet down. Kira’s nod was her way of saying, “Ok Indra, my little sister, you want to act like you have the iron bladder in this family. You’ll have to prove it. Consider the challenge accepted.” “Challenge accepted indeed,” I breathed as sleep took its hold on me. Day 2 I awoke the next morning to the sounds of my parents bustling around getting ready for the day. Yawning, I slipped out of bed to begin the arduous process of waking up. Kira had already changed into her clothes for the day and I quickly did the same. Obviously my parents did not have any clothes of mine that still fit, so Kira had generously lent me half of her wardrobe for the vacation. She was skinnier than I, so the jeans shorts I’d chosen were a very tight fit, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice anyway. By 9 am we were nearly ready to leave, so my parents availed themselves to the facilities one last time. I wondered if my sister and her iron bladder would decide to wait, but she went in right after them to take a hefty morning pee. It was down to me. As Kira’s pee droned on, I contemplated whether I should partake of a morning pee as well. I didn’t really need it, though my bladder certainly had something decent already inside with how much I had drank the previous day. In the end, I decided that if Kira could have a pee then so could I. Better to have it now than to need to stop mere hours into our day. As she came out of the bathroom I slipped in. A quick stare passed between us before I shut the door. My muscles loosened right away when I sat on the toilet, and the feeling of my bladder deflating as my morning pee left it was perhaps even better than it was last night. Clearly my bladder, trained though it was, was happy for the extra relief. We left our hotel and headed out for a day of sightseeing in Houston. As the person who had lived there for the last four years, my parents occasionally asked me for directions or recommendations about where to go next, but for the most part Kira and I were relegated to the role of followers. My parents had been planning this trip meticulously for quite some time, so they had done plenty of research on the places they wanted to visit. With the Texas sun beating down on us, we were all equipped with large water bottles of 1.5 liters each, and they were emptying at an alarming rate. Kira and I wanted to stop to get some real lunch after hours of walking, but my parents allowed us nothing more than a quick stop to refill our water and for them to pee out what they had drank. I was feeling no urge, so waiting was an easy choice. Kira paid the bathroom no mind, window shopping until our parents returned. After more walking, more pictures, and more sights successfully seen, we finally stopped for an extremely late lunch at 3 pm. Kira and I shared a look of exasperated glee at getting the chance to fill our stomachs and rest our feet. I was happy for that look, because it was the first time since last night when both Kira and I were on the same page, as opposed to being bladder rivals. She may have wanted to make my bladder pop to prove a point, and that went both ways, but we were still sisters. We ordered our food, mine coming with a tall lemonade and Kira’s with a large soda, and ate and drank our fill. Both Kira and I made sure to drain our glasses and the refills we were given. It was 4 by the time we finished, which meant neither Kira nor I had visited a bathroom for 7 hours. For an everday girl that would be impressive, but Kira and I possessed bladders that were far from ordinary. Still, I could feel some pee sloshing around in me when I stood up to leave. If Kira felt the same way she showed no sign, standing calmly while our parents peed for the second time on our outing. I caught Kira sizing me up out of the corner of my eye, as if trying to get a gage on my bladder’s condition, so I made sure to stand with my legs farther apart than normal. Upon returning from the restaurant’s washrooms, my mother told us, “You girls have been really good thus far. If either of you get tired, especially you Indra, just let your father and I know and we’ll head back to the hotel.” I read between the lines of my mother’s message to uncover what she was really saying, which was “You two are doing a good job of waiting until we are in a proper place to relieve yourselves. If either of you get desperate, let us know so we can spare you that indecency.” Once again, my mother had recognized that both Kira and I were going all day without a toilet and was giving us an out should we need it. But the fact that she singled me out “especially you Indra”, implying that I would need a bathroom well before Kira, made my blood boil. There was no way I was going to let myself pee if my iron bladdered sister was still holding on. The afternoon passed much as the morning had. Kira and I quickly needed to stop at a water fountain, as our big water bottles were empty for a second time. Kira immediately took a long swig from her bottle, so I followed in kind, after which we filled them right back to the brim. Kira gave me a glance as we rejoined our parents before taking another long drink. Again I followed suit, and that’s when I realized what she was doing. Kira knew I was determined to prove myself and would match her drinking, so she was trying to drink me under the table, so to speak. The confident half of my brain told me that Kira was trying to force an early end to our contest because she was nervous about her continued ability to hold for hours longer; the more reserved half of me was afraid it would work. I forced myself to remain calm. I reminded myself of my bladder’s prowess, thought of all the training that had led to this weekend, and determined once again to hold firm. As the four of us began walking again, I caught Kira’s eye and took a five second chug from my water bottle. Kira’s eyes squinted in annoyance as she drank more as well. With this brand of drinking bravado, Kira and I managed to drain our water bottles dry in only 20 minutes. The effect wasn’t instantaneous, but it was close. By 8 pm it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide my need to pee. My bladder had expanded greatly, going from being tight against those wretched too-small jeans shorts to being nearly suffocated against them. I looked down briefly and realized I could see the roundedness of my bladder bulge begin above the shorts, get right up to the edge of the waistband, and then get pressed inward as the constricting shorts refused to budge. I made an attempt to be discreet and put my hand below the snap of the jeans shorts. Sure enough, my bladder was also protruding out down there, meaning those dreadful shorts were literally pushing my bladder back into itself at the exact apex of its size. My capacity was being restricted at the very time I needed it most. Cautiously, I glanced over at my sister. She was more used to the tighter clothes than I, and in fact was in something similar herself. How was she managing to cope with it while I felt my bladder being squeezed and tormented? Then I saw her trick. Kira had casually unbuttoned the snap of her jeans, letting her gigantic bladder bulge expand as much as it needed to minimize the pressure on it. Though by how large it looked, it must have been a lot of pressure anyway! As I continued to watch my well-practiced sister, I noticed her either turning away slightly or doing something distracting with her hands every time my mother or father would go to speak to her. In this way she was managing to hide her improper attire decision from them. I was clearly watching a master at work. Slowly, while everyone had their back to me, I reached down towards my own button. I almost undid the snap. My bladder was screaming for me to. But I stopped myself. For one thing, while Kira had years of experience doing this, keeping her clothing modifications a secret from our parents, it would be my first time at it, and I didn’t think I could pull it off. If my mother saw me walking around in public with unbuttoned pants even for a second it would undo all the goodwill and respect I had gained in the last 24 hours. I simply couldn’t let that happen. But secondly, that deeper part of my psyche that I had started listening to more and more wanted to keep that snap shut and keep the pressure on. It proved I could hold on despite the circumstances, that my bladder was strong enough to cope with it, and it showed that I was doing something that the proclaimed iron bladder of the family wasn’t daring to do. I felt superior to Kira, and that feeling was far too addictive. I couldn’t undo that button, no matter what my bladder said in protest. And so I suffered silently, putting off my bladder’s needs for pride. My bulbous bladder continued to try and break through that deadly button, but to no avail. It simply grew around it, to the point that the pain was starting to make me a bit queasy. But I had come this far, and even though it hurt I knew my limits were still ahead of me. 9 pm came and finally it was full dark. Reluctantly, my mother made the call to return to the hotel. Inside I was joyous, knowing the torment I was going through would soon be over. But on the outside, I did my best to look calm. I think I succeeded. In past years, my parents would notice my relief at getting to the end of a long journey, and they’d guess correctly that the reason for my emotion was my full and quivering bladder, desperate to be emptied. Inevitably they would shoot me a disapproving glare or make a comment about needing to be stronger. Tonight they paid me no heed. I saw Kira breathe outwardly, probably in relief at not having to contain her load much longer, but I wasn’t sure. I could have been grasping for a sign that she had to go worse than me, because I desperately wanted that to be true. But nothing other than her close steps and the ominous bulge of her abdomen over her tight shorts belied the urgency Kira had to be feeling. I had to admit that my sister was succeeding in living up to her reputation. By the time we reached our hotel at 10 pm, Kira’s steps may have been shorter than when we started to return, but otherwise she was doing a remarkable job of keeping her 13 hour bladder in check. I, on the other hand, was feeling the fullness get to me. I struggled, but I couldn’t help coming off as tense when my father turned to ask me something 10 minutes from the hotel. As he turned back around, Kira gave me a look that said “I know you’re just about done in. I’m winning.” I feared she might very well be right and redoubled my efforts to clamp down on my sphincter. When we got inside, my mother immediately entered the bathroom. My father was waiting at the door for his turn. Kira and I gingerly made our way to our bed to sit and ready ourselves for bed, though she was still managing to come off as pristine as ever, while I seemed to be on the verge of losing what slight control I had. It was only once we began sitting that I reminded myself for the first time in an hour that Kira’s button was undone, while my bladder remained squashed. This information was of little use to me, as I still refused point blank to undo the button, but it gave me the little ray of hope I needed to muster the strength to last until bedtime. That came at 11 pm at the urging of my parents, who reminded both of us that we had a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Indeed we did, a winding, all day bus trip that would land us in Oklahoma City. Kira had no shame in going to use the loo first. I almost, almost cracked and asked to go first, but somehow I resisted. After doing so well, I couldn’t bear to show weakness, even when it was past when my parents would be able to accuse me of being weak. After all, I’d just been 14 hours without a pee, but in my holding delirium, I wanted more. I wanted to stay strong for so much longer, and leave my parents, and especially my steel bladdered sister in awe. For a brief second I considered going to bed unrelieved, but then Kira’s torrent started to hiss from the bathroom, and my bladder spasmed hard enough to make me realize that that was simply not going to be a possibility on this night. And so I clenched my thighs together, willing myself not to start holding my crotch in my presence of my parents, and waited for the interminable splatter to end so that mine could take its place. It was perhaps 3 minutes later when Kira’s massive organ ran dry, and another before she calmly exited the bathroom. While the previous night I had felt confidence mixed with the beginnings of desperation as I went in to follow my sister’s pee, tonight I wanted to let loose so badly I could think of nothing else. I walked in quickly, nearly bumping Kira in the process, which earned a smirk from her, but then I was in the bathroom and the door was shut. Frantically I undid the button of those terrible jeans shorts and threw up the toilet lid. I was milliseconds from bending my knees to sit atop that gorgeous porcelain throne when I stopped. My bladder, which seconds before had been cramping with urge after urge to let go, was suddenly calmer. Not calm, because there was still a heck of a lot of liquids stored up in it, but I no longer felt as though I was on the verge of wetting myself. Even though I could let go in the toilet bowl at any moment I chose, I stood and thought. What changed to make the urge die down so completely when I was SO SURE that I was done in? it wasn’t easy to wrack my brain with liters of hot pee wracking my stretched bladder, but I forced myself to continue waiting. With the inviting toilet bowl staring me in the face, I finally realized what had been so obvious. The shorts! No wonder my bladder was throwing so many spasms against my sphincter as the night wore on. That cursed button had been digging into the very core of my bladder at a time when it needed all the capacity it could muster. Kira had been smart enough to loosen her shorts, but my sick pride prevented me from doing the same to ease my strain. That pride had almost cost me everything…but it hadn’t. I had lasted. As I thought about that more a chill of pleasure ran up my spine. It nearly loosened my sphincter enough to allow a gush on the bathroom floor, but I denied myself even that. I began to ponder my options as I stood there. That little demented part of my mind, the one that seemed to be growing the longer my sisterly contest went, wanted me to walk out of the bathroom unrelieved. I considered it as my bulbous bladder throbbed, but eventually brushed the idea aside. I had to think long term, for there was still plenty of trip left. Another plan soon formed in my mind, and I smiled as I fantasized about its implications. But that was for tomorrow, and tonight, my bladder needed to be emptied of over 14 hours of piss. Dong my best to keep from being eager, I finally lowered onto the toilet seat. One, two, three seconds I waited, still resisting, just to remind my aching bladder of who was in control. Then I relaxed my sphincter and let my body have the pee it had been craving for hours. I was like a tap turned on full, which impressed me greatly. I hoped my family would have similar thoughts, though I knew that at the very least Kira would refrain from showing me. One minute turned to two and my stream continued unabated. My bulge was decreasing but wasn’t flat yet. Instead of being content with my current flow, I bore down with my abdominal muscles, urging my bladder to release even faster. For a moment there was no change, but then my stream seemed to nearly double in width. I could actually feel my piss pushing my peehole wider and wider, which was a crazy rush. After 30 seconds of roaring pee splashing into the toilet, I finally ran dry. Sighing with relief and pleasure, I rubbed my now-flat abdomen and stood up. I pulled the jeans shorts back up, noticing as I snapped the button back into place that they felt looser than they had in hours. Then I washed my hands and went back into our hotel bedroom. Once again I felt the tension in the air upon my return from the bathroom. It was not as bad as the previous day, but it was certainly still present. I had just proved that my pee prowess was no fluke. No one spoke as I flopped down on the bed next to Kira, but it seemed as though everyone wanted to. I busied myself with preparing my belongings for tomorrow, when we would be leaving the hotel to take our bus trip to Oklahoma City. My mom suddenly cleared her throat, “You know, Indra, I must say-“ “Mother, what should I wear tomorrow, do you think?” Kira cut in suddenly, and at once our mother changed her tune to speak on the virtues of the long sleeved shirt. It took me a few moments to realize what had just happened, but it dawned on me that Kira had just stolen my moment. My mom was fully prepared to acknowledge my prodigious bladder capacity in front of the entire family and Kira had instantly stopped her and changed the subject! It wasn’t often the “b” word entered my mind regarding my sister, but in light of her blatant sabotage of my compliment, I felt the word boiling to my lips and had to bite my tongue to keep it back. Any remaining qualms I had about beating Kira’s bladder into submission vanished, and as sleep overtook me that night, all I could think was “This. Means. War.” Day 3 I awoke the following morning with sleepy eyes, an ache in my back, and a very slight protrusion in my abdomen. I wouldn’t call it a bulge, not yet, but it was clear my kidneys had been doing some work during the night. it was probably a bit less than what I’d been holding the previous morning, but was certainly an amount that any sane individual would want to rid themselves of before starting their day. Slowly I pulled myself off the bed and got to work finishing my packing. A quick check of my phone revealed that it was 8 am, so 9 hours had passed since I felt desperate relief the last evening. I carefully selected sweatpants with a stretchy elastic waistband, not wanting to repeat the horrors of the day before, and when I was sure my parents weren’t looking, I deftly slipped off my panties and put them in my bag. The less I had constricting my bladder the better, though this also meant greater risk, because if I let loose a spurt there would be nothing to prevent it from instantly becoming visible on my pants. Kira woke up just as I had finished my wardrobe change, and I noted that she also opted for sweatpants, though she justified it to our parents by talking about wanting to be more comfortable on the bus. By 8:30 we were ready to leave, with both of our parents having just entered the loo to ensure they’d be ok for the start of the ride. On the previous days Kira had shown no shame in peeing first after our holds, but on this day she seemed to be making the distinct point of waiting until I’d gone, standing as far away from the bathroom door as possible as we prepared to leave. I sniggered to myself at this. She would be in for quite a shock. My father had used the toilet first, and when my mother exited after him she kind of gestured with her body language that my sister and I could go in now. Kira continued to stubbornly wait for me, barely even acknowledging that the bathroom was open, and I was about to make her pay for it. “No thanks, Mom, I’m fine thank you. Kira might need it, however. It’ll be a long ride.” I batted my eyes in my sister’s direction as I said the last sentence. I could scarcely believe I’d laid out such a brazen, public challenge to her, especially about such a taboo topic, and I could feel my adrenaline pumping as we stared each other down. Kira paused for a few seconds, wide eyed from my display, but when she replied it was in an even, confident tone, “Oh, of course I’ll be fine. Let’s go!” My father let out a sigh of slight exasperation, perhaps thinking our egos were getting the better of us. But mother beamed with pride, maybe mixed with a bit of fear, but pride nonetheless, at the thought of her two girls being so strong. It looked like she was finally getting used to having two iron bladdered daughters instead of one. And so the four of us paraded out the door, left the hotel, hailed a cab, and reached the bus station by 9, Kira and I both with 10 hours of pee being stoically held by our strong sphincter muscles. After another half hour of wait, during which the four of us casually sipped from our water bottles, the bus arrived, so we piled on. We were in the back half of the bus, with maybe four rows of seats behind us. I sat at the window next to my mother, and on the other side of the aisle Kira sat with our father. The seating was random, but also, perhaps subconsciously, fitting. After all, by taking the window seats, Kira and I were restricting ourselves from having ease of access to the bus lavatory, since we would need to both ask permission and crawl over our parents to reach the loo. It was just subtle psychological warfare between the two of us. Even if this impromptu holding contest wasn’t taking place, both of us would still easily be able to wait for a rest stop. The bus left at 10 am sharp. It was nearly full. Unless people hadn’t filled out the back, only two seats were free from what I could see. And since I had no intention of going back to use the onboard facilities, I obviously had no reason to look to the rear of the bus. The first two hours of the trip passed uneventfully. Kira and I continued to take large gulps from our oversized water bottles while our parents nursed theirs at a much slower pace. By constantly peering over at each other to keep track of the other sister’s progress, we were able to polish off our waters almost simultaneously at 12 pm. Our first rest stop was in half an hour, and I was content to wait until then to refill my water. After all, already there was 1.5 liters of water sloshing through my stomach and making its way to my bladder on top of my morning pee. Such was the same for Kira, but as I snuck a glance at her I saw her make quick eye contact with me. Then she turned to our father and asked for his half full water bottle, claiming to be thirsty. Father gave her a look that seemed to say “Don’t be stupid”, but Kira returned fire with a condescending yet steely glare that meant “Do you realize who you’re talking to?” Father sighed and handed over the bottle. Kira was nice enough not to drain it, but by the time she’d finished sucking water from it, there had to be an 500 ml making its way towards her expanding bladder. Then she handed back the bottle and looked at me mockingly, daring me to do the same. Like I needed the invitation. “Mother, can I please have some of your water? I’m quite thirsty, and as you can see, mine is empty.” I pouted and shook my empty water bottle for effect. My mother’s face began to show fear. Try as she might, it seemed she was still having a hard time adjusting to my new status as “big bladdered daughter number two”. “Are you sure you want it?” she asked me in a low voice. We both knew I wasn’t thirsty and just wanted to prove a point, though I’m sure she didn’t realize the extent of Kira and my holding contest. “Yes,” I replied confidently, “I’m thirsty.” My mother stared at me for a few seconds, waiting for me to crack and take back my request. When I didn’t she sighed, tried to smile to herself a little, and handed over her water bottle. I did my best to drink a comparable amount to Kira, handed it back, and rested my head on the window, waiting for the rest stop. We ended up being late to the rest stop, arriving at 1 pm. I’d noticed my mother sitting rigidly as the clock passed 12:30, but she managed to call upon her reserves of bladder strength and wait. But she was up right away when we stopped, and I knew her bladder was bursting. I, on the other hand, felt comfortable despite 14 hours of pee sitting in my bloating bladder. Kira too gave no sign of needing relief at the stop, and so we both patiently waited our turn and exited the bus. I noticed, as we made our way inside the stop, which was basically a large food court, that Kira and I were the only two women to not immediately head to the restrooms. What I was sure of was that we were the only two that hadn’t gone that morning, as well as the only two with two liters of water coursing through their systems. I decided to take action. “Here, let me fill that back up for you, sis,” I said, grabbing her empty bottle and walking to the water fountain. She made no effort to stop me. Instead, I noticed an odd, thoughtful look on her visage, but dismissed it and began letting the water pour into the bottles, secretly imagining all of it pouring straight into my enormous bladder. I saw my lower stomach growing and growing in my head, and nearly lost myself in the fantasy. When I recovered, both water bottles were brimming with bladder torturing liquid. I took them and turned to find Kira, but my sister was right behind me already. She was holding up two half liter bottles of cranberry juice. “I’m tired of just water. I think we should mix things up,” she said with a mischievous grin, trading me one water bottle for one cranberry juice bottle, giving us both an additional two liters of fluid to suck down and hold on to. It was certainly a lot of liquid, but I didn’t flinch, accepting the bottle and following her back to the bus, having found no relief at the so-called rest stop. We sat back down in our respective seats and Kira instantly began sipping at her refilled water. Refusing to be outdone, I did the same, and by the time the bus was ready to leave, we had both drained another half liter each. Our parents were beside us again, so talk was kept to a minimum, but from the glances my mother was giving to both of us, it was clear she was having trouble reconciling her joy in our bathroom etiquette with her fear of us losing it on the bus. I just smiled wanly. By 2:30 I decided to crack open my cranberry juice. Personally I wasn’t a big fan of the stuff, finding it rather bitter. Before touching it to my lips, I thought back and remembered that Kira wasn’t much of a cranberry juice drinker either. So why now? On a whim I began to read the label, my eyes scrolling down through the listing of ingredients and nutrients. I was about to shrug and take a swig when I saw it. ‘Can act as a mild diuretic.’ Now I was intrigued. Why would Kira pick this drink in particular? Was it chance, or did she know of cranberry juice’s diuretic properties? And if she did, why would she get it, knowing full well that she would also have to endure the extra pee flooding into her well trained bladder? I sat and contemplated this, then came up with the answer. Kira was trying the same strategy she’d used the previous day. She was trying to push the liquids to a great degree, betting that her ability to wait at full capacity would outlast my own. Surely the way yesterday ended had given her hope for this strategy, as it was I who was the more obviously desperate of the two when we finally reached the hotel in the evening. I’m sure she figured if she kicked the fluids up one more notch with the diuretic-laden drink, I would have no choice but to fold. However, she had overlooked one very important point. I hadn’t nearly lost my load yesterday because of the large quantities of water I consumed in the afternoon, but rather due to the unbearable tightness of her tiny jeans shorts pressed right on my full bladder. With both of us clad in comfy sweatpants on the air conditioned bus, this would be a nonissue for me. I was determined to hold out, no matter the stakes. With a grin to myself, I threw back my head and consumed the entire bottle of cranberry juice at once, sighing loudly enough upon completion to alert Kira to what I had just done. Her eyes went wide for a moment when she saw the empty bottle in front of me, but then she began to snicker. She did not, as I had expected, instantly chug her bottle in return, instead merely popping off the cap and taking a single sip. I steeled myself. So that was her game. She was playing dirty now. If she kept up her current pace, her cranberry juice would take over an hour to be finished, while I was now fully laden with the diuretic laced juice. My bladder would end up being pumped with a larger quantity of pee than hers. I was slowly realizing that perhaps she wanted more than just to win a fair contest with me. Perhaps she wanted me to embarrass myself in front of my family, to piss myself in shame on the bus ride for even having the gall to challenge her in this endeavor. Well, if that was her game, I was more than willing to play it. Ii knew my abilities, and I reckoned I could still handle myself and my sure to be bulging bladder. It was 4 pm by the time Kira finished the last of her cranberry juice. With 17 hours separating her from her last trip to the toilet, she looked the picture of casual calm. Hands pressed into her lap, true, but I didn’t doubt that my iron bladdered sister still had plenty of room and will to hold on. On the outside I also appeared ok. Maybe I was a bit tenser than she, but only slightly. Well, there was one outward sign of my need to pee, if we’re being honest. My bladder had started ballooning around 3:30 and only recently stopped growing at such a quick rate. I was thankful that the cranberry juice wasn’t as bad as a full blown diuretic pill, otherwise I’d probably be nearing my limit. But as I gently palmed the lump that was even slightly visible under my sweatshirt, I knew the juice had still affected me. We had another rest stop at 4:30, this one lasting until 6 so that we could all eat a real dinner. Considering all my family had had by this point in the day was some random snacks on the bus, we were quite happy for the stop. Though part of me was disappointed that my increasing hunger would no longer be there in the pit of my stomach to distract me from the throb of my bladder. I stood carefully to follow my mother off the bus. I peeked to my right and saw Kira stand, wince, and put her legs closer together before gingerly exiting after me. The diuretic had finally started to hit her as well. She probably hadn’t realized how full she’d gotten until she stood up, whereas I was used to the increased pressure thanks to finishing my cranberry juice well before her. Of course, I knew my sister’s bladder was still plenty strong and figured she’d be able to rebound from this setback soon enough. I, on the other hand, would in all likelihood be faced with having to control a weakening sphincter muscle before she would, since I was facing the pressure for a longer period of time. That thought sent a chill up my spine, but my heart began to beat faster as I noted that it was a chill of pleasure, not fear. This rest stop, near the Texas-Oklahoma border, featured a sit down restaurant proclaiming itself to be “The last true Italian food before Oklahoma”. I tried to stifle a laugh at how absurd that sounded and entered the restaurant. Thankfully we were allowed to seat ourselves, meaning our parents could immediately scurry off to relieve themselves once more. That left Kira and I at the table. I could tell she was smoldering at my insistence to continue holding as long as she did. I had just turned my glance away from her when she piped up, “You’ll never manage to outhold me, you know.” My jaw dropped at my sister’s blatant acknowledgement of our contest. Even though it was clearly happening, it still took getting used to to be talking about it. Not waiting any longer for my reply, Kira continued, “You couldn’t beat me growing up and you certainly can’t now. I don’t know who you’re trying to impress. Mom KNOWS that I’m the bladder queen of this family, and that’s not changing no matter how much you try. I know you can’t hold as much as me, and I know you can’t hold as long as I can. Indra, you should just give up now and spare yourself the embarrassment of having to use the bus toilet.” It took me a moment to recover from her outburst, but I shot back, “Oh yeah? Well ever since I moved to Texas my bladder has been getting bigger and bigger. Throw all the tricks at me you want, I can hold it.” “Please,” Kira responded with a smirk, “You nearly lost it last night. Another hour of walking and you would have peed yourself. I would have been fine. In fact, I’m still fine, while you’re probably sitting over there with a bursting fanny.” The venom in her words jolted me. It made me realize just how much Kira valued having the biggest, strongest, longest lasting bladder in the family. But this knowledge didn’t make me take pity on her for even attempting to unseat her. It just made me want to push her, and me, further. I was busy thinking these thoughts and Kira became impatient. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself??” I gave her a blank stare as I asked her, “How far are you willing to go?” Before she could answer, I flagged down a passing waiter. “Two iced teas please.” The dinner was fantastic. I promised never to doubt the true Italian tastes of North Texas ever again as the final bite of pasta entered my mouth. Kira and I had both finished our iced teas within minutes of our parents returning from the restrooms, so of course that meant we needed refills. I figured that would be all the drinking we’d need for now, but Kira was intent on following through with her plan to drink me under the table. As our waiter collected our dirty plates, Kira motioned to him. “Sir? I’m ever so sorry to bother you, but would you mind topping off my water bottle?” Not waiting for a reply, Kira took out her water, still one liter full, and chugged down half of it. I could hear my mother audibly gulping as the waiter then filled it with a liter of water to make it full once more. All eyes turned to me, everyone knowing what was coming. Kira was mouthing “Give up Indra” over and over, but she wouldn’t be winning this contest this easily. I took out my own 1.5 liter bottle, pressed it to my lips and didn’t lower it until the water level was at the same spot it was in Kira’s bottle. “Mine as well please.” I gave the waiter my sweetest smile to make up for the fact that he had to go and get another pitcher before he could fulfill my request. After all, it isn’t often girls ask for an extra two liters of water after a meal with multiple iced teas each. Our parents rose from the table. It was nearly 6, so we needed to get back on the bus. My mother was sweating, caught between wanting to say something about the condition of her daughters’ bladders and being restricted by her culture and upbringing. Finally she squeaked out, “Are you girls ready to leave?” Kira and I briefly stared each other down. She was doing a pristine job of maintaining her composure and hiding her need, built up by 4.5 liters of drinks and nearly 19 hours since her last pee. Her hands were in her lap and her legs were crossed and jiggling slightly, but her face remained calm as she replied, “Oh mother, I’m as comfortable as ever. Let’s get back on that bus.” My mother turned her gaze to me. “Indra?” Despite the telltale ache my bladder was now experiencing, and I lieu of the fact that it was packed solid with piss, round and hard in my abdomen, I took no more than a second before answering, “Why, I’ve never felt better. To the bus!” I caught Kira’s face nearly snarling in my direction as we made our way back to finish our trip. The bus pulled back onto the road. We were right on schedule and were due to arrive in Oklahoma City at 9 pm sharp. By 7 pm I was regretting the fact that we didn’t take a higher quality bus, as my bladder was expanding to even greater proportions and I desperately wanted to be able to lie back and give it room, rather than having to stay crunched up in the tiny seat. And I could tell that Kira, for all her bluster and outward confidence, was also feeling the strain. She was sitting straight up, sometimes moving her legs up and down, sometimes banging her hand on her thighs to keep herself distracted, but never looking fully calm. Both of us, however, remained in control, leak free and in firm command of our sphincters. The bus drove on. As 7 pm turned to 8, my bladder swelled to the size of a small cantaloupe. Kira was shifting her legs uncomfortably in her seat, the pee pressure clearly getting to her. But my father made no move to let her up to get to the toilet, and in any case Kira wouldn’t have bothered. She was holding with determination, as she better have been after her harsh words at dinner. But I didn’t feel much better. I was reaching what I felt to be my maximum capacity, my bladder hurting more with every additional millimeter of bulging. Still, the two of us continued to assault our poor, aching sphincters by drinking from our water bottles. There was no more chugging, we were both too full for that, but every five minutes or so we would alternate moderate sips. There was no stopping our insane holding game. Our bladders would just have to enlarge further, hurt more, and stretch to contain what we demanded of them. It seemed defeat was not an option for either of us. My legs had begun to softly scissor inward and out. The desire to release was becoming too strong to ignore without movement, and even then it was eating away at my will. I saw Kira begin to bob her knees up and down and redoubled my holding efforts, knowing we were both feeling the same strain, determined not to crack first. Somehow, both of us played Russian roulette with our bladders and came away unscathed, as the bus rolled into its station in Oklahoma City at 8:45 and neither Kira nor I had suffered even the most remote of leakage. It was clear to anyone who looked upon us that we were two young adult girls in dire need of a bathroom break, wee bursting to escape, but still we suppressed our bodily urges. On shaky legs I rose to exit the bus, and Kira followed after cupping her expansive bladder with her hands. Once we were out it was merely a 10 minute walk to our hotel and the freedom our pent up pee was so desperately desiring. “Are you two ok?” our mother asked us as we began the short walk. I whispered out “Of course mother,” while Kira could only nod and grimace. A particularly hard bladder spasm was wracking her beautiful slim figure, and it was taking what appeared to be a great deal of concentration and muscle control to fight it off. The walk was slow going but Kira and I pushed ourselves to our limits in an effort to appear unaffected by the quantities of piss pushing us to release our bladders all over the sidewalk. Our hands curled into fists, we both forced our backs straight, wincing mightily as the urge to let loose our torrents doubled in intensity. We both sported large pudges growing over the waistbands of our sweatpants. Had we been wearing Kira’s tiny shorts from the previous day, we might have been done in, even with our massive resolve and bladders. But thankfully our bladders were able to stretch as much as necessary to contain our immense floods, if only just. Finally the hotel was in sight. Kira gasped as she held it in in the face of yet another bladder spasm. I was taking ever smaller steps as we entered the hotel lobby, shaking legs pressed together as discreetly as possible. We all approached the counter and my mother began the process of checking in for the night. I looked to my right and saw Kira fighting with everything she had to remain still in front of the hotel employee at the desk, and with a groan I followed her example. But the check in began to drag on, and after two minutes I heard Kira take a sharp intake of breath and begin to fidget, clearly willing herself not to grasp her crotch for everything she was worth. For a moment I felt superior. Then I noticed that I had been unconsciously wiggling my legs for the past minute. Both of us were gagging for a toilet, two desperate young women holding back 22 hours of pee in our overstretched piss containers. It had to come out soon, one way or another. We were both pee dancing on the spot. For the first time I noticed Kira give me a worried look. The iron bladder of the family herself was close to breaking. Then the clerk handed my mother two hotel room keys and we were off, all thoughts of wetting on the floor of the lobby forgotten for the both of us as we walked quickly to the elevator. The movement gave me back some semblance of control, however slight, and I felt that Kira got the same effect from it. In any case her constant hitching of breath as she fought through spasm after spasm had stopped. The elevator took us to the top floor, and we walked desperately down the entire hall before reaching our room door at the very end of it. Mother inserted her key card while I kept myself from spurting at the thought of being so near a bathroom at last. But as she turned the handle, a new thought struck me with horror. Who would go first? Surely it would have to be Kira, as in my intensely prideful state I felt I would rather wet than pee before her. But that meant I would have to hold on for at least 5 long, painful bladder busting minutes before getting the opportunity to gain my relief. I didn’t know if I could make it that long, not with the toilet so close, not while listening to Kira piss out Niagara Falls. With bated breath I entered. The room was huge. For a split second all thoughts of pee pain left my head as I marveled at the size of our hotel room. “Sorry it took so long,” my mother was saying beside me, though it was difficult to concentrate on her voice, “I had us upgraded to the suite.” Momentarily I wondered why my frugal, penny pinching mother would voluntarily pay more money for an albeit bigger room, but then all that went to the wayside as I saw another perk of the room size – it had two bathrooms. Instantly Kira hobbled into the bathroom nearest the hotel door, while I raced to the one on the far side of the room. I heard her door shut with a thud and mine followed seconds later. My sweatpants were somehow tight to my body, such was the distension of my bulging bladder. I yanked them down frantically, crossed my legs for one second to regain full control and admire the cannonball in my abdomen, and then rushed to the toilet. My gusher began as soon as I was seated. 22 hours of piss streamed out of me with crazy force. That damn cranberry juice had nearly done me in, heck it had nearly done in Kira, the mastermind herself, yet we both survived. I could hear Kira’s massive gush faintly through the door, but by bearing down even harder on my own stream I managed to drown it out. I had always been good at peeing with force once I’d become a competent holder, but my current flood outstripped even the ones I had made in the past few days. I was well and truly bursting. I wiped matted hair out of my face as my pee continued into its second minute unabated. My mind fought through wave after wave of pee pleasure to think about Kira and the ridiculous levels this challenge had now reached. 22 hours without a single pee break was crazy, even for a well-trained Indian girl such as her. Or such as me. I wasn’t sure if we could push the limits any further to really find a winner in this contest of bladder capacity. Even with a milk diuretic we both lasted a full day. With despair I noted that this trip would be over soon. We had another bus ride to Albaquerque tomorrow, and the next morning we’d be heading to the Albaquerque airport, where my mother, father, and Kira would fly back to India and I would fly back to Houston. I didn’t think there was enough time left to resolve things, one way or another. Even as my pee began to slow down in its fourth minute, I sat and pondered the fact that Kira and I were seemingly too good at holding it to decide upon a winner. My trickle finally ground to a halt seconds before the fifth minute began, and when it did I suddenly got one last, risky plan. It was ridiculous, so much in fact that I didn’t know if I’d be able to do it, let alone Kira. But dammit, at the risk of total embarrassment, of biting off way more than I could chew, and of pushing my bladder into very uncharted waters, I promised myself I would see it through to the end, for better or worse. And besides, my plan was crazy enough that it just might work, and that was enough for me. With a jolt I heard my father banging on the bathroom door, and I surmised that I’d been inside for an additional five minutes, going through my desperate plan over and over. Haphazardly, I apologized, rinsed my hands, and exited. My father gruffly entered, and I found myself alone in what appeared to be a combination bedroom and living room with one gigantic bed. I saw the other bathroom door was still shut, and I guessed that my mom was inside it, but then where was Kira? I turned all the way around and noted a door I hadn’t seen before in my rush for a toilet, hidden away just to the right of the bathroom that I had used. I turned the handle, opened it, went inside, and came face to face with two more beds, these ones smaller but still impressive. Kira was busy making hers, her back to me. Sensing my presence, she said to me, without looking over her shoulder, “You know this is hopeless, right? Try it again tomorrow for all I care. I’m used to this. I’ll last longer on my shortest hold than you ever could on your longest. Face it sis, I’ve got the iron bladder, and you…well you just don’t, ok? It doesn’t make you less of a woman, well, TOO much less of a woman, it just makes you like everyone else.” My eyes blazed like fire for a moment at her words, but then I lay into the bed opposite Kira’s and became unspeakably tired. All the holding of the past day had worn me out. All I mustered in reply was, “You’ll have to try harder than this,” before my heavy eye lids shut themselves. And as I began drifting off to sleep, I made one final revelation. Our mother said she had purposely upgraded us to the suite. Now I knew why. She knew how close Kira and I’s bladders were to their breaking points when we reached the hotel, and she didn’t want one of us to have to disgrace ourselves waiting for the toilet in the room. So she’d gotten us the largest room, the only one in the hotel with multiple bathrooms, to save us from ourselves. The last words on my lips before the sandman took his nightly hold of me were “I don’t want to be saved.” Day 4 I awoke to the sound of Kira getting dressed. In preparation for the bus ride to come, she had once again opted for sweatpants and a large t-shirt. Instinctively my hands reached for my bladder, and I was pleased to discover a small hardness, but nothing more. I was relieved that the cranberry juice from the day before hadn’t continued to work on my kidneys through the night. I’d need every bit of bladder capacity I could muster for what lay ahead. I clenched my sphincter a few times, testing it, and was delighted by the results. I was able to clamp down as hard as ever, my bladder showing basically no ill effects from the previous day’s bursting hold. This was good. This gave me a chance. Kira noticed that I was awake, and instantly her trash talk from the last night continued. “Aww, finally awake there Indra? Did that long hold tire you out? I still haven’t taken a pee this morning, and isn’t that your big bad plan? Get Kira to skip her morning pee, because obviously that worked out so well for you yesterday.” All I had time for was, “Don’t’ go before we leave,” before she cut me off and continued, “Of course I won’t go before we leave. If you wanna lose the hard way, so be it. But do you actually think skipping my morning pee is anything new or difficult for me? Back when I was a senior in high school, I didn’t take a morning pee for 8 months, from day one until graduation. I got my diploma with a darn fuller bladder than you had at yours. I’ve done this more than you know, and when I go back to India I guarantee you, Indra, that I’ll still be the owner of the biggest, strongest, and best bladder in this family.” I began getting dressed as she finished her rant. My normally composed sister was anything but. I knew I was in for a serious fight now that I was encroaching on her territory, staking my name to her big bladdered crown, but I had never been more prepared, both mentally and physically, for anything in my entire life. That much I knew. “We’ll find out if you’re right,” was all I said as I readied myself to leave the room. Kira could only huff and follow. The clock on the far wall of the main room read 7:30. I was surprised it was so early, but then again I had crashed to sleep as soon as we had gotten in and my pressing pee had gotten out, so I was certainly well rested. Our parents were already getting their things in order, and by 7:45 we were ready to leave the hotel. Our bus didn’t depart until noon, so we had some time to relax and see the sights of Oklahoma City. Both of them popped into the separate bathroom stalls for one final pee, and when they exited my mother wore that look of agitation mixed with pride that I was getting to know so well. She gave a half gesture to Kira and I in the direction of the open bathroom doors, and without even a glance at each other we both shook our heads. The battle was well and truly on. Mother almost gave a grimace, sighed to herself after a brief pause, then spoke, “Forgive me, girls. I should remember how grown up you both are.” She emphasized the word ‘both’, which brought a wry smile to my lips. ‘If you only knew how grown up we were going to prove ourselves to be before this trip ends,’ I thought to myself. Then we were out the door, checked out of the hotel, and on our way to the center of the city, and already nearly 11 hours separated Kira and I from our last lavatory visits. We found out one thing in the four hours we had to kill – Oklahoma City is a boring place. Maybe it was just that my focus was on other, more exciting things, but the time seemed to drag. Kira and I each emptied our water bottles and refilled them, along with consuming a cup of coffee and a glass of juice each at breakfast. The additional liquids bothered us not. By this point in the journey, we both knew the other possessed some serious holding power. Finally the time came to board the bus. We had reached the station a bit early to give our parents a chance to pee one last time before the ride. Kira and I simply waited outside the restrooms for them. The station was packed and the flow of women in and out of the ladies’ room was constant. As the two of us stood outside it, regarding ourselves as above needing the relief it offered, we overheard one skinny blonde, probably in her mid 30s, say to a man I presumed was her husband, “Look at those girls. Over there. Girls these days think they all have bladders of steel. I guarantee you they’ll regret just standing there in two hours time.” The man just nodded. Kira gave her sassy smirk, while I chuckled to myself. We might end up regretting it, but it would definitely take longer than two hours. This became funnier to me when I considered that it had already been nearly 15 hours since we’d last gotten relief. Despite the crush of people, the four of us found ourselves among the first ones on our bus. Kira gave me a look, then announced to my parents, “Indra and I are gonna take the seats in the back.” They nodded dumbly, as did I, surprised my sister wanted to sit with me but not really feeling unhappy about it. When we reached the seats I quickly realized the psychological ploy Kira was going for. These seats were positioned right next to the bus’s onboard lavatory, meaning that not only would we both constantly be afforded a reminder of our plight as well as an easy way to end our bladder pain, but we’d have to listen to the continuous trickle of passengers emptying their bladders while ours stayed full. Without missing a beat, Kira took the window seat, mentioning with an airy casualness, “I’ll sit here, so you don’t have to climb over me to pee. I, of course, will not be needing to do that on this bus. I can hold it. In fact, I can hold it even though it’s been over half a day since I wasn’t holding it. Grown women can do that, you know.” “I know how long it’s been, sister. And it’ll be much longer before I’ll have to do such an unwomanly thing as relieve myself, so I hope you’re in it for the long haul.” I sat down next to her after finishing my retort, legs intentionally open to show the ease of my current sublime bladder control. Inwardly I was proud of my response. I’d always wanted to be able to say things like that, just as Kira did, to offhandedly brag about my holding capacity, but until recently my bladder had never been big enough to actually allow me to do so. While I clearly needed practice, I thought I was getting better. The bus left at 12:10, maneuvering through the city streets and quickly joining up with the highway. The late start was attributed to the fact that this bus was jam packed with people, and many of them had decided to be stragglers. They clearly hadn’t expected such a crowded bus station to walk through, or perhaps they didn’t think the lines for the restrooms would be quiiite as long as they were. I smiled to myself at the knowledge that that was never a problem for me anymore. Within the first half hour of the ride a woman of perhaps 45 cursed, “Oh, blast it!” and rose from her seat. She hobbled down the aisle, keeping one hand on her thigh, mere inches from her crotch. With some manner of franticness she opened the bus bathroom stall and entered. Kira and I, being situated so close to the bathroom, could easily hear the woman’s stream, which started out impressively before dying down into a normal 30 second pee. “Not even enough to put a dent into my bladder.” I heard myself say as she returned to her seat. I was a bit surprised to be talking about someone else’s bladder in public like that, especially so brazenly, but I found that I quite liked hearing the words come off my tongue. Kira gave a short laugh and responded, “She could pee ten times before I’d have to go once.” By 1 pm I noticed that neither Kira nor I had consumed more than some token sips from our 1.5 liter water bottles. Feeling that my bladder was still quite in control, I decided to make up a game to increase our intake and, over the long term, decrease that very control we both coveted so highly. “Hey sis, how about a drinking game,” I suggested. Kira snapped to a half-hearted attention, moving her eyes from the window to me. “What do you have in mind?” she asked lazily. She asked it in the way one does when regarding a child’s poorly thought out request and not having the patience to give it some fake enthusiasm. Undeterred, I continued, “I’ll bet you that my side of the bus (I gestured to all the seats on the right half of the aisle) has better bladder control than your side (I motioned to everyone left of the aisle). We’ll keep track. Every time someone from my half goes to the bathroom, I’ll take a big drink of water, and every time someone from your half goes, you drink.” Kira’s eyes lit up at the idea, though she did her best to put on a bored face as she replied, “Well, ok, it’ll get me through this bus ride at least. But when you forfeit and pee, you still count for your side, so I expect you to drink when you come back.” I just smiled, “Deal.” By 3 pm it was clear that, despite her best efforts, my sister couldn’t keep from showing her excitement at my game. Her competitive nature had taken over, combined with her obsession to have a larger bladder than all those around her. Another person, this time a teenage girl who couldn’t possibly have been older than me, left her seat and went towards the lavatory. Kira fist pumped. I sighed. The girl was on my side. I would have to drink. I swigged from my water bottle, noting how much lighter it was now than when we’d begun this game. I reckoned I had already consumed a liter of it, while Kira had probably had no more than a third of that. Setting down my bottle, I turned to her as she began her trash talk, “Damn, Indra, this this was a better idea than I gave you credit for. You’re gonna lose both your pee and the game before the first rest stop, and I didn’t even have to do a thing to goad you on!” We both knew she was exaggerating. After the last few days together Kira had to know I wouldn’t break so easily. Still, there was no doubt as I felt the fullness of my abdomen that I was in worse shape than her. She was still as jovial as ever, even with 18 hours of pee sitting in her gigantic bladder. My spur of the moment idea was backfiring in my face. Suddenly, in the next ten minutes my luck changed. A parade of people began to filter in and out of the onboard toilet, and all of them were from Kira’s side! My sister began grumbling about how stupid of a game this really was as she was forced to chug her drink until it was level with mine. Still, she did no more than cross her legs until we pulled into our rest stop at 4 pm. With 19 hours of pee in our bladders, Kira and I ignored the women’s toilets and headed straight for the water fountains. As soon as we had refilled our giant water bottles, Kira noticed something. Nearly everyone on our bus had entered the restrooms. “How do you wanna factor that into our game?” I asked. Kira shrugged and turned her newly full bottle to her lips, her throat working overtime to swallow as much as possible. I followed her lead, the two of us chugging and keeping eye contact, determined not to quit before the other. 45 seconds later, we both succeeded. Our stomachs were heavy and waterlogged, but the 1.5 liter bottles were empty again. We couldn’t have that, obviously, so we filled them up one more time, grabbed some food to eat on the bus, and returned to our seats, both knowing our bladders would soon be feeling the effects of that rash decision. Time seemed to pass more slowly after the rest stop. Kira was still giving me the occasional comment about her bladder’s infinite strength relative to mine, but for the most part we sat in near silence, both waiting for our bladders to reach their bursting points. The two of us sat next to the bathroom, both needing it badly but neither giving in. Our abdomens were bulged out far past anything that could be considered normal, yet there we sat, pretending we hadn’t a care in the world. And besides our crossed legs and sometimes strained facial expressions, one could have still looked at us and not known we were bursting of the pot. Thankfully our game had slowed down as well, with so many people having relieved themselves at the stop. Over the final couple of hours of the ride, Kira and I did our best to remain unmoving, unchanging against the ever increasing tides lapping against our bladder walls. Our piss tanks continued to swell, to the point that we now both looked positively massive in that region. Kira squirmed in her seat every now and then, while I was busy doing Kegals to remain in firm control of the river I was containing. We’d both ended up consuming an additional liter of water each in the course of playing our bus bathroom game, and I could tell from the look in Kira’s eyes on her last few drinks that she didn’t know where she was going to be able to put this excess liquid. With no diuretic hampering me this time, I knew I’d be good to last to our hotel, even if it was a struggle. And at 9 pm, exactly 24 long, arduous hours since either of us had felt any relief, the bus pulled into the Albaquerque bus station. Kira and I took one last, longing look at the bus toilet before exiting gingerly to the sidewalk. We met up with our parents and decided to hail a cab to our hotel. I could see mother giving note to our heavily swollen abdomens and our feeble attempts to stand straight while walking, but she said nothing as we entered the cab. 15 minutes later we were in the hotel. Thankfully, despite our bursting conditions, Kira and I both showed much more self-control in the lobby this time around. We looked around with nonchalance, only giving away the severity of our bladder agony by placing our hands protectively under our giant, fragile bulges and perhaps clicking our heels and moving our feet a bit much for girls who only had to wait at check-in for a minute or two. Realizing we had much better control of ourselves on this night, our mother opted for the usual small, one bathroom hotel room. On legs that were just beginning to get shaky, Kira and I walked into our room. Both of us sat defiantly on our bed, neither making a move for the toilet. Our parents both paused briefly to give us a chance to change our minds, but when we continued to sit, my mother darted in to relieve herself. Father followed, but Kira and I did not. After unpacking a little, our father ordered the family some food to be delivered, then sat and turned on the TV to watch with mother. Kira and I made as if we were also paying attention to the screen, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Our bladders were like bowling balls in our stomachs, and keeping them full and intact was all either of us cared about at the moment. The food arrived and we all ate, then my parents retired to bed, done in from the constant traveling, after one final look from my mother to her badly bursting, nearly exploding daughters. I saw the clock once the snores began to rise from my parent’s bed, and it said 10 pm. 25 hours had now passed since Kira or I had even seen the inside of a bathroom, let alone use a toilet. It was like we were trying to live without admitting that a need to pee is a need that everyone, even well-trained girls with enormous bladders, must give in to eventually. Kira also noticed that our parents were asleep, so she was able to speak about our conditions freely, “Ok, admit it, Indra, you’ve failed. Once again, you only ended up holding as long as I have. You can’t last any longer, I mean really, look at that melon you’ve got in your gut! I know you have to let it out. It’s been over a day now. Why don’t you just admit you can’t defeat me, take a piss, let me take my piss, and we can go to sleep? I can go on being the iron bladder of this family, and you can go on being second best.” At this I smiled. “What’s so funny?!” Kira asked, louder than she intended due to her state of bladder distress. “This waiting game isn’t over yet,” I said to her, my eyes twinkling. “What are you talking about?” Kira questioned, “It’s been (she swiveled to look at the clock)….25 hours since we’ve peed! What do you mean it’s not over? We’re here, we’re in our hotel room. Of course it’s over. It’s just a question of who goes first. And that’s you. A tie always goes to the champion, and I most certainly am the bladder champion around here.” My grin grew wider, “Well, Kira, I’m not going. I don’t care how big the lump in my abdomen gets, I’m not gonna pee tonight.” Now Kira’s eyes got wide as she understood what I was saying. “You mean…” she started, before I cut her off, “That’s right. If you want to give in and pee now, surrendering your title, that’s fine. Be my guest. But not a drop is coming out of me until tomorrow.” Kira’s voice cracked as she responded, “You’ll never make it! You’ll wet yourself in your sleep and disgrace the entire family! What will mom and dad say after that??” “I can do it,” I told her, “and I’m going to. I’ve slept full before and I can do it again. So go, pee if you must, but that makes me the winner.” Kira was silent for a few seconds, clearly raging on the inside. She was now fighting both her incessant urge to pee and the idea of coping with a new challenge. My sister’s sights had been set on relief once we entered the hotel room, but from last night onward I knew the only way to win this would be to forgo my evening pee on this night, even if I was already 25 hours full. Finally Kira broke her silence. “Alright,” she almost spat the words at me, “I can go to bed without a pee too. It’s no problem for me, really. You’ll see. You’ll end up with a nice big wet patch under you while my side of this bed will be bone dry!” I smiled and nodded with fake good-naturedness, then got under the covers and prepared myself for sleep, bursting bladder and all. Kira grumbled, grumbled some more, hemmed, hawed, and finally got into bed with me. Her legs were moving restlessly as she fought with her sphincter to remain in control of the mass of water she was holding. My own need was something more than a pleasurable ache, but I hadn’t been lying when I said I’d managed to sleep full before. I had done that many times in Houston. I just hadn’t been this full. Or full for this long. But I was prepared to risk it all, and this was certainly a heck of a risk to take. Slowly, it took perhaps a half an hour, my mind drifted off to sleep, even as my pee raged inside my bladder. My last conscious thought was that I could still hear rustling in the sheets beside me. Kira was still having problems. Day 5 I awoke with a jolt at 7 am the next morning. Immediately I had to reach down and clutch my crotch for all I was worth. My bladder was like a boulder in my abdomen, round, hard, and aching. I knew at once that I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. I also knew that making it through the night dry had been a close thing. My piss holder was nearly ripping apart at the seams, and it was taking me some time to get used to this massive increase in pressure. It was easily the worst I’d had to go on this entire trip, which made sense, as I hadn’t been to a toilet for 34 hours now. I turned over, hands still on my vagina, and saw that Kira was awake as well. And just like the previous night, her legs were still restless, moving up and down, back and forth, with pretty good speed. It was clear she was desperate to relieve herself, just like I was. “Congrats,” I croaked in a whisper. Our parents were also waking, and I didn’t want them to catch wind of our conversation. Kira rolled over, face grimacing in exhaustion and agony, and replied sleepily, “For what, you sadist?” I managed a small grin. “I didn’t think you’d last the night, Kira.” For a moment all signs of sleepiness left her visage, replaced by pure rage. “Oh, you! I’ll never be outheld by you! Now go and take a piss! I’m positively bursting! I barely got any sleep thanks to this awful balloon in my gut. Do you know you long it’s been since either of us peed?? Give this up!” I shushed her, trying to make sure our parents didn’t hear anything, before telling her, “I’m not giving up yet.” With that, I sat up (slowly, mind you. My bladder was nearly the size of a watermelon!) and began getting my stuff together for the trip to the airport. Kira could only glare from the bed. The four of us prepared our things to leave. Kira and I could hardly keep still as we packed, pee dancing with increasing franticness as the urge to pee threatened to overwhelm us. Our bladders were rock-solid, adding untold inches to our waistlines. Once, around 7:45, Kira had whispered desperately to me, “No bladder, however big, is meant to contain this much piss! Go and let it out!” At the thought of release, my bladder cramped urgently, and I had to stop and nearly drop to my knees to fight the spasm down, but still I refused to quit. Kira moaned at me and shoved a hand in her crotch briefly. Our parents had noticed our desperation, but it wasn’t until 8 am, when we were ready to leave, that my mother truly realized how badly we had to go. Both mother and father had just returned from the bathroom, and as our mother looked us up and down she realized that, not only were we pee dancing on the spot, but our tight t-shirts and sweatpants were doing nothing to hide the insane bulges we were sporting. Our 35 hours worth of pee had swelled our abdomens out to ridiculous degrees. “Girls! What are you doing?? You’re both clearly masters of controlling yourselves, but for goodness sake you can’t expect to go out like that! Not all the way to the airport!” She turned to me, “Indra, dear Indra, please, I have kept my mouth shut for all this time, but please, go and make yourself comfortable again.” She pointed towards the open bathroom door, but I held my ground and my urine. After ten seconds our mother went to Kira, “Kira! How about you? You’ve always been strong, but show some sense!” But my sister’s face was a mask of determination, even moreso than mine. “If Indra doesn’t need it, then I am certainly comfortable enough to get to the airport.” She replied icily. My mother looked to our father in a last ditch effort, but he could only shrug and say, “If they say they’re fine, then let’s go. What are we waiting for?” And so, with half our number in an extreme state of desperation, we all made our way out of the hotel and hailed a cab. It was only I that noticed Kira’s last, longing glance at our hotel room’s toilet before the door swung shut. The ride to the airport was quiet. Kira and I were much too focused on keeping our pee from busting out of ourselves to make small talk, and I think my mother way in a state of shock over the whole thing. By 8:30 we were at the airport. Thank goodness there was no line to check in for our flight, because if Kira and I had had to stand still for a prolonged period of time, that might have been the end of things. As it was, we were able to move around the desk area, squirming, fidgeting, and trying our hardest to pass off our intense desperation as excitement for our flights to the airport employees surrounding us. After checking our luggage and beginning the walk to our gate, I saw Kira’s eyes looking everywhere for a restroom sign. She even had to hold herself while walking now. I knew she was close. Heck, I was close myself, as a quick series of bladder spasms reminded me. I stopped for a moment, legs turned inward, hands on my thighs, squeezing with everything I had. I had shut my eyes to concentrate better, and when I opened them, I saw both my parents were staring at me. Kira was not. She was too close to having her own urinary disaster, and was concentrating on nothing but remaining dry a little longer. I waved my hands to my parents as if to say, “Ah well, it happens,” and we continued on. Going through airport security may have been the hardest thing we’d had to do yet, but with unmatched resolve and willpower, Kira and I both managed to put our hands to our sides and walk normally past the airport security guards. Our desperation was reaching new and unforeseen levels, levels I didn’t even know could be reached by a girl’s bladder. When we got to my family’s gate, my bladder was in a constant state of spasm. I clenched with everything I had, using nearly all the sphincter strength I had left, and managed somehow to calm my pee urgency down to the point where I could function, if not well. Kira, on the other hand, was at the end of her rope. Pacing, nearly marching on the spot, she enthusiastically waved her arms in the direction of a women’s restroom sign. “Indra! Look! A bathroom! Go there! Please, please, go there!” My sister’s control was mighty, prodigious even, but it seemed her ponderous load of pee was finally getting to her. I gave my phone a quick check and saw that it was now nearly 10 am. It had been nearly 37 hours since either of us had let a single drop out of our stretched, tortured bladders. Smiling wide, I shook my head at my poor, desperate sister, relishing the fact that I was still in control while she was finally losing hers. It was the first time I had ever had the upper hand in this matter, and I was savoring it. “Kira, you should go,” I told her with an air of superiority, “Your belly looks ridiculous. You’re gonna pee yourself.” Kira’s eyes were fearful and she nearly shouted back at me, in total denial, “No, no, no, I’m the bladder queen of the family! I never have to go before you! I can wait as long as you can! If you haven’t gone yet, I won’t!” She said these words even as her bladder bulged ominously, as her sphincter tired itself out, as she slowly but surely came to grips with the fact that her enormous bladder was in a fight it couldn’t win. “Now boarding, Gate 72A!” The announcement came over the loudspeaker of the gate, our gate. As the clock struck 10 am, it was time for my mother, father, and Kira to go back to India. My flight left at 10:30 am, giving me just enough time to see them off and rush to my own gate. My parents were shooting looks of horror back and forth as they regarded their pee dancing daughters. The time when we were in firm control of ourselves seemed a distant memory. Now we could be mistaken for school girls with teacup-sized bladders…unless someone actually looked at our amazing bladder protrusions. Neither of us would have fit in anything but the stretchy sweatpants we were wearing. I hugged my mother goodbye gingerly, then the same with my father, being careful not to bump my round bulge against them. One wrong move and it could be all over. Kira was last, and I could tell it was taking every last ounce of energy and willpower she had to stay in place and hug me. I pulled her close, then whispered in her ear, “I’m not going to pee. I’m going to board my plane to Houston without going. The only way to outlast me is to get onto that plane, sit in the seat, strap that seatbelt over your bladder, and keep holding all the way back to India.” With a desperate shout, Kira pushed me away. One hand was clutching her crotch in a death grip, the other was holding her face. I saw that she was near tears, hair flying all over her face, panic in her eyes. Her legs were scissoring back and forth at a rapid rate even as she stood, but it was no good. Her final sphincter clenches were not enough. After all this, I had come to learn what it took to defeat Kira’s monstrous bladder: 38 hours, half a lake of drinks, and the prospect of holding on for hours and hours to come. It was too much for her, and Kira’s iron bladder began to rebel before my very eyes. Her strong, perfectly-trained dam of a sphincter started cracking, as I saw first one rivulet of wetness snake down her sweatpants, then another, then another, before she cut it off, breathing deeply. “I can hold it….I won’t lose…I can hold it…I…I…It’s coming out!” Kira’s bladder suddenly exploded, gushing piss everywhere. The floor was drenched and her sweatpants were waterlogged in seconds. With a shout of despair, Kira began half-running half-hobbling to the women’s restroom she had so astutely pointed out to me minutes before. The battle was over. I had won. I grinned, reveling in my victory, my bladder pain momentarily forgotten. My mother looked me in the face, saying, “Ok, Indra. You did it. You can go now.” But I looked back with a sparkle in my eyes and replied, “Oh mother, I don’t have to go. I’m a grown woman after all. I can hold it.” With that, I turned on my heel and headed for my gate. As I walked away, I knew that, despite everything she had said, my mother had never been prouder of me. Epilogue I strode onto my plane and took my seat next to an attractive guy who seemed about my age. For the first half hour of the two hour flight we made very little conversation. The adrenaline had worn off from my victory over my former bladder queen of a sister, and the intensity of my urge to pee seemed to be tripling. I was hell bent on lasting the flight, however, and ended up squirming in my seat to stay in command of my load of piss. The boy, Ryan was his name, glanced over at me as I wriggled. “Do you have to go too? I can get up if you’d like,” he offered. I smiled wanly, “No thank you. I’m actually quite capable of waiting, thank you very mu….did you say you had to go too? Why not go? You have the outside seat. The lavatory is open. I can see the sign.” He gave me a slight laugh and his cheeks reddened, but after a half minute of silence he lifted his shirt, showing me what was obviously a stretched and aching bladder, and replied, “What the hell, I’m never gonna see you again after this, so if you must know I’m testing myself. I haven’t gone in a very long time. It’s actually been 24 hours. I don’t want to go until I can’t wait anymore.” My jaw nearly dropped off of my face, and I had to jam both fists into my crotch to stave off my hardest bladder spasm yet. Finally I managed to tell him, “I haven’t gone in almost 40.” It was his turn to stare at me in amazement, and his gaze instantly turned downwards to my incredible bulging bladder. “That’s amazing…” he breathed. We spent the remainder of the flight aiding each other in coping with our piss struggles. I had originally planned on peeing at the airport bathroom in Houston, but found resolve I didn’t know was possible to have now that I had a partner in pee holding. As we got our luggage I could tell Ryan was on the verge of losing control, even moreso than I was. But I wanted to prevent him from darting off to the airport bathrooms, as I saw his eyes flick that way more than once. So I invited him to my place. He was unsure, clearly going out of his mind with desperation, but then I took his hand, placed it ever so gently on my rock-hard bladder, and told him, “You can watch me pee.” Without another word we collected our bags, hailed a taxi, and desperately shuffled into my apartment at 1 pm. I was sure we were going to explode the minute we were in the door, but instead I found myself overcome with horniness at the thought of our predicament and instantly wrapped him up in my arms and started forcefully making out with him, even as our aching bladders tried to forcefully spew out our loads of pent up pee. We resisted the call of nature for another hour, hands roaming each others’ bodies but staying mostly on the other’s massive bladder. We moaned, crossed our legs, danced while holding each other, squatted down low, and did everything we could think of to last. I even tortured myself further by downing a glass of water while he looked on in amazement. But finally we were well and truly at our limits. The pee had to come out, and after 41 hours of pristine control my sphincter finally couldn’t clench hard enough to keep the oncoming spurts back. In total desperation I rushed to the bathroom and grabbed the measuring jug I used for just such occasions, convinced that this had to be some sort of holding record for myself. When I returned to the living room, Ryan had his hand clenched over his bare penis. “If I let go it’ll all come out!” he cried desperately, so I did what any good, true lady would in this situation. I let him go first. With the last of my power I clutched myself and held on as he pissed long and loud into the giant jug. After 3 minutes his pee ended with 2200 ml in the jug. I was very impressed, because that was not a total I was used to beating often. But today I felt as if an entire lake was residing in my enormous, hurting bladder, and after dumping his load out in the toilet, I squatted over the bowl, ripped down my sweatpants, and finally let loose. The pleasure of this piss was out of this world, and I nearly lost myself in it as the pee poured out of me. I was like a tap turned on full, and it felt as though I would never stop. Ryan’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he gaped at my naked pussy unleashing a river into the filling jug. This pee took over 5 minutes of forceful peeing to finish, but when it did I proudly lifted the jug and showed him that 2700 ml was residing in it. It was a total I was sure my sister Kira, even with her amazing bladder capacity, had never bested, and I knew that I was now the true Bladder Queen in the family. And from the look I detected in Ryan’s eyes as I breathed in relief, this Bladder Queen wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.
  24. What is your favourite video you masturbate to when watching it. This is mine. https://www.omorashi.org/files/file/1135-awesome-russian-drinking-and-holding/?tab=comments#comment-3647
  25. Sooooo, I’ve been seeing ads for this app all over tumblr, and I just recently found a screenshot of a supposed “pee desperation” scenario, but I was never able to find the actual post from the “Episode” user. Until now. I took a screenshot of the ad, and reblogged it on my page. So here’s my question: is this an actual story on “Episode,” or is this just click bait? Any feedback would be great! P.S.: If this is not in the right section, please let me know!