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My first fic! I'm planning on turning this into an episodic series with an ensemble cast; since chapters won't necessarily be written in the order of the events depicted within, I'll include an in-story date for when the chapter takes place. Enjoy! A/N: This was inspired by a trip I took on Amtrak's Capitol Corridor a few months ago, and I made an effort to work in a mention of every station between Sacramento and Oakland (except for Emeryville, since I didn't want to interrupt the story at that point). Fellow railfans, enjoy. Chapter 1: The Trouble with Trains July 2023 Northern California shouldn’t be this hot, Marco Vigil had decided. It was well above a hundred degrees in Sacramento, a simple fact that he nevertheless couldn’t wrap his head around. He would have expected weather like this in Phoenix, or in Austin, or in Atlanta, but not in Sacramento. Marco was eager to get out of Sacramento and away from the terrible heat, but that wouldn’t happen if he missed his train, an outcome that was looking more and more probable as he rushed to get to the platform before the departure time. Marco had gone to Sacramento to visit a friend who’d moved back home for the summer. He’d lingered in the air-conditioned oasis of his living room, with the result that he was now racing through Sacramento Valley Station in a desperate attempt to make the southbound Capitol Corridor train before it pulled away from the platform. In his mad dash through the station, as he struggled to hoist his backpack over his shoulder while holding on to his phone and mostly-empty water bottle, it hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d sprinted right past the restrooms. Now he was running flat out, and he must have been quite a sight: All 5’6” of his frame was leaning into his stride, and his unkempt black hair bounced with each footfall. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clenched with determination as he rounded the last corner to the platform. There was the train! With one last frantic burst, he leapt into the closest car and gasped for breath. The air conditioning was so refreshing that for a moment he felt weak in the knees, but he collected himself and gulped down the rest of the water. Still panting from his mad dash, he refilled his water bottle before making his way upstairs and claiming a window seat just as the train pulled out of the station. “Welcome aboard southbound Capitol Corridor train #273, with southbound service terminating at Jack London Square in Oakland. Please have your tickets ready…” Marco put in his earbuds and relaxed, eagerly taking a few more swigs from his water bottle as he thought of the immense heat outside. It would be nearly two hours before the train got to Oakland, and then for Marco it would be longer still before he got to his destination. That’s because Marco was a student at Rockridge University in Oakland, and at this time of day the bus back to campus would probably be caught up in traffic. Marco didn’t mind; he was content to sit right there in the train, enjoying the air conditioning and rehydrating himself after a scorching hot weekend. In fact, come to think of it, his bottle was almost empty again. Time for a refill, he thought. … After the train stopped in Davis, Marco went to the café car and bought a soda, since the water still hadn’t quenched his thirst. After the train stopped in Fairfield, Marco refilled his water bottle yet again. And when the train stopped in Suisun City, Marco realized that he had to pee. Well, no matter. Marco may have been shy, but he definitely wasn’t going to wait until Oakland to relieve himself – he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait that long. The only question was what to do with his bag: Take it with him into the bathroom, or leave it on the seat? After a moment of thought, he decided to leave it. The bathroom would probably be cramped, and there were plenty of people on the coach who would notice if a would-be thief tried to make off with some dirty clothes and a toothbrush. And besides, Marco thought to himself with a smirk, what kind of idiot would steal something in between station stops? He’d be trapped on the train, and then I’d just have to track the thief down… ‘Mystery on the Capitol Corridor.’ That sounds like a good short story! By this point, he’d got to the bottom floor of the car and made his way to the bathroom. He opened the door and peered inside. He’d never been inside a train’s lavatory before, but it reminded him of the one on an airplane. It was a bit larger, and furnished with stainless steel instead of plastic, but it was still familiar. There was only one major difference that Marco discovered: He closed the door behind him, moved to lock it, and ended up gesturing ineffectively at the handle. How does it lock? The door’s handle clicked into place, but there was no obvious way to lock it. Marco prodded at a small knob next to the handle, thinking that it might be the lock, but even after twisting it, pulling it, and sliding it, he could tell the door was still unlocked. I’m an engineer. I can figure this out. The experience reminded him of trying to turn on the shower in an unfamiliar hotel room; it seemed that there was always a different sequence of levers to control water temperature, actuate the drain, and turn on the shower head. The only difference was that Marco’s current situation was a bit more stressful than trying to turn on a shower, a fact that was reflected in his tense stance as he became more and more aware of the contents of his bladder. Nervously, Marco moved away from the door and faced the toilet. Glancing over his shoulder, he unbuttoned his shorts and moved down the zipper. Best to get this over with quickly before somebody comes in. Then, as he unzipped his pants, Marco’s mind was suddenly seized by the image of another passenger opening the door and disturbing him as he did his business. Maybe he could wait until Oakland after all. He zipped his shorts back up and sighed as he returned to his seat. With his thighs pressed together, Marco prepared himself for the uncomfortable ride home. … “Attention passengers… due to an open drawbridge, we’ll be delayed for about ten minutes. Next station stop is Martinez.” As the train loitered at the foot of the bridge across the San Joaquin river, Marco knew he was in trouble. For now, the discomfort in his bladder had subsided to a dull ache, but with every small movement he felt the mass of liquid shifting inside him. There was nothing to it but to press his knees together and lean back in his seat. The train was stopped next to a stand of trees on a steep hillside. Marco found himself thinking of the last time he’d had to pee this bad, during a run in the hills above campus. It had been during the heat wave last fall, and with his class schedule leaving him no choice but to run in the afternoon, he’d kept hydrated… perhaps a bit too eagerly. Just after crossing Grizzly Peak Road he’d ducked into a stand of trees, pulled the front of his shorts down, and watered a tree. The smell of urine, sweat, and eucalyptus sap that had combined on that hillside was surprisingly agreeable, and Marco made a game of it: He stepped back and angled his penis upwards, managing to soak the bark nearly four feet above the roots. Then he stepped to the side a bit and tried to project his stream as far as he could on the downhill slope. Then he was done, and he was quite satisfied to stand there watching his puddle trickle downhill. It was the shock of his life when Marco stepped out from behind the tree and saw, not thirty feet away from him, Riley Conrad standing shirtless with his back towards him, watering his own tree. Riley Vigil, who Marco knew because they were both on Rockridge’s rocketry team… Riley Conrad, who looked pretty good without a shirt on… Riley Conrad, who was pissing on a tree. Marco fled with swift but silent footsteps and set a new record on his downhill sprint back to campus. He’d already made plans to meet Riley for lunch the next day, and when they both sat down at the restaurant Marco was so nervous that he could barely read the menu, but Riley seemed normal. Obviously he hadn’t caught Marco peeing, and he hadn’t caught Marco watching him pee. After all, it wouldn’t do to let lust or piss get in the way of what was already a good friendship. … When the train stopped in Martinez, Marco had to direct his attention towards his bladder and penis every few seconds to keep himself in control. At this point, he was filled with almost as much worry as urine, and he figured that there were only two ways that his situation could get worse. The first way was that somebody would sit next to him. The second way was that she was wearing a Rockridge University t-shirt. “Oh, you’re another Rockridge student?” she asked. Marco tried to make himself look less tense. “How did you know?” “Water bottle.” Marco looked at his bottle, which he had purchased from the student store. It had the university seal printed on the side. “What’s your name?” Marco asked. “Elizabeth.” “Marco.” Elizabeth was wearing athletic shorts, a tank top, and sandals, and she had shoulder-length brown hair. Marco thought she looked familiar in a vague sort of way, as if they’d crossed paths on campus a few times before. As they talked some more, Marco learned that Elizabeth was a fellow sophomore, studying physics. He told her that he was majoring in mechanical engineering. Marco tried not to squirm in his seat, but with Elizabeth sitting next to him all he could do was sit and suffer as he tried to keep his pants dry. Luckily, the conversation was distracting him a bit; the train was now rolling through Richmond, with the factories and railyards of the East Bay moving outside the windows. Elizabeth interrupted herself to point out the window. “Look, you can see the Golden Gate Bridge.” Marco turned in his seat to see that, yes, in between the treetops, he could see the distant San Francisco skyline and the bridge off in the distance. “You know,” Elizabeth said, “I have kind of a funny story about the bridge… A few weeks ago I had a friend visit from out of town. She’s a transfer student who’ll be starting at Rockridge next fall, so she wanted me to shower her around. We went into the city, and one of the things she wanted to do was walk the length of the bridge, all the way from San Francisco to Marin. I’d never done it before either so we went across the bay and stopped in San Francisco for a coffee before heading to the bridge. Of course, it was a hot day, so I was also drinking lots of water… I didn’t realize there was a bathroom in the visitor center on the San Francisco side, so we just started walking across.” Marco stared at her. “That’s… interesting…” He shifted his legs around some more. The train was making a stop in Berkeley, and as the people passed by in the aisle he tried to lean forward as casually as he could and crossed his arms over his thighs. His new hunched-up position took some pressure off his bladder, but he couldn’t think of a way to change the subject. He really wanted to change the subject. And he really, really wanted to pee. “Anyway, all that ‘hydration’ was catching up to me. I had no idea how long the bridge was, so by the time we were halfway across I had to piss bad. It was getting hard to walk. So you know what I did? I walked up to the railing, pulled down the waistband of my shorts a few inches, and got my underwear out of the way.” “But what about the people?” Marco blurted. Elizabeth laughed. “What people? Tourists don’t go that far out onto the bridge, and the bike path was on the other side. And I was hidden in an alcove behind one of the support towers; from the road, none of the drivers could see me pissing off the side of the Golden Gate Bridge.. Oh, it was great. I tell you, when you have to go that bad, it feels so good to just let go of your inhibitions and take an amazing leak.” “Yeah.” Marco winced. “That does sound nice.” “Of course, some people are more timid. I mean, my friend also clearly had to go when we were walking the bridge, but she didn’t want to join me when I pissed over the side. She managed to wait until we found some bushes on the Marin side of the bridge. She gave them a good watering!” Marco just crossed his legs again as the train rolled south. … Marco knew he was in trouble. His legs bounced. He resisted the urge to grab himself as he twisted in his seat. Finally, he grabbed his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest, scrunching himself into a ball. His only consolation was that Elizabeth didn’t comment on his apparent desperation; if she had, he might have died of embarrassment. Her silence allowed Marco to pretend that she thought he was just trying to find a comfortable sitting position after spending nearly two hours on the train. Elizabeth was telling him about her work in Rockridge’s Turbulent Flow Lab. He didn’t understand fluid mechanics that well, but she told him that her work could have engineering applications for nozzle design. She even offered to help Marco get a position in the lab, since they’d probably need help from an engineer for their upcoming experiments. However, he declined, saying that he was more interested in robotics and aerospace engineering. And after being drawn in to such an interesting conversation, Marco was shocked to feel the train slowing down as it pulled into the station in Oakland. Finally! He grabbed his bag and stood up – and that made him realize that he truly was on the verge of wetting himself. “Will I see you on the bus back to Rockridge?” Elizabeth asked. “I don’t think so,” Marco replied hesitantly. “I have, uh… errands to run downtown.” Elizabeth smiled. “If you say so.” She saw right through the lie, but she pretended to believe Marco because it seemed important to him that nobody would find out how badly he needed to relieve himself. Honestly, she thought, if I had to go that badly I’d find some quiet alley to squat in as soon as I got off the train. She also rose from her seat to disembark, but Marco was already gone, sprinting down the stairs and onto the platform with stiff legs. With a stiff gait, he made his way towards the station building, devoting all of his energy towards holding his it in. Hobbling across the lobby, he spotted the door to the men’s room, and- No! Locked! Marco was could have cried in frustration. His face was red and he was sweating with the effort of trying not to wet his pants. He dashed out onto the street, and saw the taillights of the Rockridge shuttle bus as it pulled away from the station. “Shit!” He’d have to wait another thirty minutes for the next bus back to Rockridge. Naively, he thought for a moment that he could wait that long, but the brief lapse of concentration to check the bus schedule on his phone took its toll. Marco felt a brief spurt of urine leak out of him and soak into his underwear. No, it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to wait. Marco had been desperate before, but he’d never been so close to wetting himself that he started leaking. Out of options, he ran for the closest secluded place he could find, a mostly-empty parking garage next to the station. Ducking past the toll booth, Marco ran into a quiet corner of the station. He found a bus dropoff lane that had clearly fallen into disuse; it was separated from the rest of the garage by a wall, and the chances were low that anybody else would cross his path while he was pissing a river. Nervously, Marco walked over to a good spot with a support column shielding him from the left and a drain on the right that would hopefully keep too large a puddle from building up. Now all he had to do was unzip, pull himself out, and go. But Marco couldn’t do it; he couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Riley in the hills above campus, and how embarrassing it had been to nearly be discovered. Although there had been a few desperate times in Marco’s life where he’d had no problem watering a tree or a bush, he’d avoided peeing outside since the incident with Riley last fall. And now he was in a built-up environment, not out in nature like the previous times he hadn’t been able to wait for a bathroom. Pissing here seemed like an impossible task. But all of those concerns were pushed aside by Marco’s intense desperation and a desire to salvage his dry shorts. If relieving himself here was difficult, then wetting himself was unthinkable. Steeling his nerve, Marco unzipped his shorts, pulled his underwear waistband down, and gripped his penis in his right hand. He aimed at the wall, and immediately a torrent burst forth from him. Marco was standing less than two feet from the wall, but in that moment he was sure that his stream could have traveled three times that distance, and the pressure caused a few spray drops to ricochet back onto his ankles. That didn’t bother him at all; the feeling of relieving himself after putting it off for far too long was intoxicating. Even though Marco fought the urge to close his eyes so that he could keep glancing around for passersby, for the most part he didn’t have a care in the world as he took his badly-needed piss. In his entire life, Marco had only ever peed in three places before: In a bathroom, onto a tree, and onto dirt. Concrete was new to him, and he was surprised by how quickly his stream flowed down the wall and into the drain. As it fell into the drain, it made a gurgling sound; the sound amused Marco, and he wondered how long he’d be able to keep it up. He had already passed twenty seconds, and he showed no signs of slowing yet. Moving his right hand, Marco began to idly move his stream back and forth against the wall, settling on a position that provided a bit more space between his foot and the steady trickle running into the drain. His small accomplishment made him smile; it wasn’t a wide grin that crossed his face, but rather the mellow expression of relief and bliss. So far, Marco thought that his first urban piss was going quite well. Maybe he didn’t have anything to worry about after all. In fact, maybe he’d even try it again sometime. On a few occasions over the last few weeks, Marco had missed his bus and been stranded in the remote corner of Oakland where he worked as an intern at an engineering firm. Since Marco tended to drink a lot of water during the workday, after waiting at the bus stop for a few minutes he’d have a distinct urge to go. His pride refused to let him walk back to the office just to use the bathroom – after all what if somebody saw him? – but the industrial side of town wasn’t well-served by transit, and after waiting half an hour for the next bus he’d be quite uncomfortable. He always made it home before it became a true emergency, but next time maybe he’d just find a spot behind an abandoned warehouse and water the plants. As he was lost in thought, Marco didn’t pay much attention as his stream started to lose power. Another ten seconds or so, and he’d be finished, with an impressive damp mark on the wall and a puddle of urine slowly flowing into the drain. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw somebody walking towards him. Marco’s good mood vanished in an instant. He couldn’t possibly let anybody see him like this! With lightning speed, he tucked his penis back into his underwear and zipped his shorts up. Unfortunately, after being lost in relief, he wasn’t able to stop his stream until a few seconds after fastening his pants, and he ended up with a small but noticeable damp patch on the front of his shorts. With no time to worry about that, he bolted for the nearest exit, which happened to take him next to the person he’d seen coming his way. The person was Elizabeth, and she waved. Marco saw her eyes move downwards, just for an instant, and he knew that he’d been caught. He’d had an accident, and Elizabeth had seen it. Marco was overcome with embarrassment, and he instinctively turned to face away from her. And then, instinctually, he started running, sprinting back out onto the street and leaving the parking garage behind. He’d see Elizabeth again on the bus back to campus, but for now he just needed to be alone.

I’m sitting in class, struggling to keep my eyes open during the dullest lecture imaginable, when I hear the telltale pattering. The cute blonde who sits next to me had stealthily pulled her tight yoga pants down and was displaying her slightly hovering peach-shaped ass, which was connected to the seat by a pale yellow stream that flowed over the side in a sputtering waterfall. A growing golden puddle began to form and slowly crept towards my backpack. I yanked it away just in time. The girl, I think her name was Gina, gave me a sheepish look of apology. A few others at nearby desks looked around to identify the sound, and when they recognized the source they simply went back to jotting notes. It was amazing how quickly people got used to the new water conservation laws. As of three months ago, public urination was made not only legal but mandatory. Wasting a toilet bowl of water simply for peeing was now punishable by a fine and community service. Why this law only applied to women was still a mystery, but the public had quickly adapted. It was impossible to walk anywhere now without spotting a woman or multiple women squatting, standing, hovering, or whatever stance they chose while unleashing a pent up stream of urine. Gina crumpled up a sheet of paper from her notebook, wiped, tossed it in the river she just made, and pulled her pants back up, refocusing her attention on the teacher, who gave no indication he cared or even noticed what just transpired. In the early days of the new law, known colloquially as “The Pee Law’, it was a whole production between the girls expressing their shyness and the people around them overcoming their own awkwardness after the fact, but by now a bladder emptying was as routine as sneeze or cough. The resulting mess was always a bit of a concern, but the numerous campus custodians recently employed always cleaned it up before the next class like clockwork. Finally, after what felt much longer than the class’s hour long runtime, we were set free. It was a relatively short walk back to my dorm, but still I caught multiple glimpses of girls spraying their piss wherever they deemed appropriate. Some dashed away to water the grass, talking to their friends all the while, while others had more fun with it. I watched one perched over a trash can, her face steadily changing to one of relief as she peed all over the trash within. Amanda, a slender brunette I chatted with a few times before class started, came up to me as I was staring at the trash-pisser. I tried to play it off like I was just looking idly in the distance, but her sly smile made me think she noticed. “Hey, do you mind if I borrow your notes from yesterday? I was out helping a friend move.” I had a bit of a crush on Amanda, even though we barely knew each other, so my heart began to flutter as I responded. “Yeah, of course,” I said as I stopped walking and unslung my backpack. “Thanks so much!” She fidgeted slightly in what I at first thought was anticipation for the notes, but as another girl replaced the previous one on the nearby trash can, her eyes closing and mouth dropping open as her relief began, Amanda commented, “Ugh I hate how some girls have gotten so used to the Pee Law already and here I am holding it in til I can find some privacy.” My ears perked up at this. “It doesn’t seem like people mind anymore,” I said, “but I totally get your hesitance. It’s a lot of programming to overcome.” I handed her the notes and she smiled. “Yes, exactly! You guys pee wherever you want law or otherwise, but us gals are way more used to needing a toilet.” As she said this her hand shot towards her crotch and her leg wobbled. “It’s even worse having to go and seeing everyone else peeing all over the place. I’m barely gonna make it back to my dorm.” I didn’t want to overstep her boundaries but I couldn’t resists prying more detail out of her. “What would you even do when you get to your dorm? It’s not like you can use the toilet even there, unless you’re more of a rebel than you let on.” She laughed. “If you must know,” she said playfully, “I have a bucket I pee in that I then empty out the window when it gets full.” “Guess I better stay alert if I walk by your building then if I don’t want a surprise soaking!” She laughed again, this time moving incrementally closer to me. “Don’t worry, I make sure there’s nobody underneath.” She then cringed and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Actually do you think I could ask another favor? My building is all the way across campus and you live in the new one right over there past the café right?” My heart beat faster and faster. “That’s right. Did you want to-“ I almost said ‘use my toilet’ but that no longer made sense. “Could I just maybe use…something in your room that would give me some privacy? Like it’s not even that I don’t want to go right here, I psychologically can’t pee out in the open like this, and it would get really embarrassing squatting with my pants down and nothing happening.” I could hardly believe my luck. When the Pee Law first passed I was in heaven, but to my great disappointment truly exciting opportunities to watch girls pee in public had been limited to casual, by-the-books pees. It’s been a wild ride, don’t get me wrong, but the intimate experiences I fantasized about at the legislations inception had yet to materialize. “No problem at all.” I tried to sound casual but my lightly quivering voice betrayed me. “Thank you so much!” As she expressed her gratitude, another girl, this one a classmate of ours, waved to us as she walked past and suddenly sat down on a nearby bench, wiggled out of her pants, and shot a stream through the slats that pooled rapidly on the concrete below. “Umm,” Amanda began as the new sight presumably sent another spasm to her bladder, “Do you mind if we hurry?”