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  1. In Over the hedge the animals raid trash cans outside Gladys Sharp's house and Verne finds a used diaper inside. She is a single businesswoman with no children so why is there a diaper in her trash can? Either she is incontinent or is ABDL, but the only evidence of her being ABDL is her cute bunny slippers even though she hates wild animals. Nobody online seems to talk about this has anyone else given this much thought?
  2. Greetings everyone! I've been on and off this site for the last couple years, mainly just for story writing purposes. I've had new ideas and passions coming and going, not to mention some serious writers block, moving states, and having my old laptop die on me. I've settled, bought a new one, and have been writing for NanoWimo this month. The story I was working on just didn't have the flow I wanted to and to see if I could jog anything, I went reading through some of my older work. Master and Servant was one of the longest stories I'd ever written and I about punched myself when I realized how long I'd left it, and the way I'd left it unfinished. I've been thinking it over for a few days, and I realized that I really want to give it a proper ending. There are things I would change and do differently, so I decided the only fair thing to do was to give it another try and re-write it. Let me know what you guys think, I want to hear feedback and ideas to help grow and change as a writer...especially one who indulges a pissing fetish ? Hope you guys enjoy! The first chapter is a long one, reader beware! Ch. 1: Let the Games Begin Hermione Granger could pinpoint the exact date and time when her little habit had formed. She was eleven years old, the second Tuesday of November that year. On Halloween she’d been trapped in the girl’s loo and nearly had her head taken off by a troll. Since then, she found that every time she tried to use one of the girl’s toilets, her heart began to pound in her chest and her bladder quiver in her belly. She would rather, and many times nearly did, release its contents right outside the door than go inside. The fear she had was terrible, making her feel cold, clammy, and sick every time she so much as thought as going to the ladies’ room. It led to hours of agony, holding her water in her belly until it ached, only letting her pee flow when she was safe inside her dorm at Gryffindor Tower. Many times, she’d barely made it there, but letting all she held inside always felt so, so good. She would sit there on the porcelain throne, or stand in front with her legs spread wide the times she was a little too late, and her urine would spray from her like a waterfall. The agony would end, replaced with a euphoria so great she would moan and tremble. Oddly enough, she preferred it the times where her need was just a little too desperate. When her belly would throb, and her pee would spurt into her panties before she was even in her dorm, sending tendrils of urine down her thighs as she hurried up the stairs to her place of salvation. The times where she had her hands between her legs, skirt soaking up the constant bursts of wet heat from between her legs as she opened the bathroom door. What choice did she have but to let go right there in front of the toilet? She would moan as her pee soaked her panties, her skirt, her socks and shoes…the puddle would be so massive that the only thing that saved her from utter humiliation was her ability to perform advanced cleaning spells. As the days since the troll attack wore on, the number of accidents she had in front of the toilet grew. She liked it more, she admitted secretly to herself, to feel the pee burst uncontrollably down her legs. Once, she’d held it far too long and had an absolutely glorious pee right in the corridor on the second floor near the library. Another time, when the toilet had been occupied and she was already bursting, she crawled into bed and pissed the blankets until the were sopping. She laid there, panting in the wetness, realizing how badly she liked it. It gave her such pleasure to pee herself, made her girlhood tingle in ways she never had felt before. And, being a witch of inquisitive mind, she endeavored to explore these new pleasures. She let her experiments move from the privacy of the bathroom, or her bed, and out into the castle. Over the years, she learned her limits and pushed them, holding for hours until she burst. She learned places in the castle, or on the grounds, where she could pee unseen. That was always her favorite, to pee in the open. The fantasy that someone could happen upon her, even though she took precautions against it, gave her more pleasure than when she first discovered she liked to wet her knickers. She learned, as all teenage girls do, the best ways to give her body the pleasure it craved. She noticed that craving enhance greatly as her bladder filled, and it opened up new avenues for wetting and for pleasure. However, the last thing she ever expected was to be discovered. ***** Draco Malfoy had never paid Hermione Granger much mind. She was Mudblood, of little consequence. But, one day after Halloween their first year, he noticed something peculiar about the girl. They were in History of Magic, where minds tended to wander, and students fell asleep. His father would never allow the latter, but a wandering mind was something he just could not help in such a dull subject. He was thinking on its dullness when movement caught his eye. Granger was two rows up, at the corner desk, and she couldn’t sit still. It always gave Draco a secret, naughty, thrill of pleasure to see his classmates squirm the way Hermione Granger was squirming. He knew immediately what it was for and why, and always secretly wished to see a golden puddle form under their chairs. The girl had his full attention for the rest of the lesson. The way she tapped her feet, wiggled her hips, and crossed her legs. It was a perfect potty dance going unnoticed by anyone but him. She clearly had to go quite badly, he realized with a thrill, as by the end of the lesson she was holding herself and rocking in her seat. Why she didn’t just raise her hand to be excused was beyond him. Binns never cared if students asked. In fact, students often asked to use the toilet and just never came back. But then, Draco realized that he’d never seen her ask to use the toilet. She was such a little know-it-all that she’d never waste precious class time with something as inane as emptying her bladder. At least, that was what he assumed. Class ended with her dry, much to Draco’s displeasure and he left with his friends to his next class, one he shared with the Ravenclaws. He supposed Hermione would rush to the toilet, barely making it in time to pull her knickers down even though it was just across the hall. Maybe they would even be a little wet by the time she did. He found his thoughts drifting back to her potty dance throughout the day, feeling a nagging itch he didn’t quite know how to answer. He never imagined that by dinner, the squirming girl would catch his attention again. He almost missed his mouth with his fork when he spotted her across the Great Hall. She was pale, a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead, her whole body tight and trembling. There was no way she was still holding it all in, there couldn’t be. It had been hours since History of Magic, and she’d been about to burst. And yet, there she was, shaking with obvious need. How her friends or anyone else in the room wasn’t noticing was beyond him. He had to get a closer look, and tormenting Potter and Weasley would provide the perfect opportunity. He glanced at the Teacher’s Table, grinning to see them occupied in some discussion, and got up from his dinner to saunter over to the Gryffindor Table. “Well, well, well,” he drawled “Potter. Congratulations on defeating a Mountain Troll. I have to wonder, what were you doing in a Girls’ Loo to fight it? Already turning into a peeper, are you?” Harry and Ron both went red with embarrassment and anger, immediately firing off their mouths with blundering threats of physical abuse. He cared little for their tirade, he was watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye. And oh, what a treat. She was absolutely busting, legs tightly crossed and holding herself discretely under her skirt, her robe hiding the action. He could see it though, because he was looking for it. She was rocking back and forth, subtly and watching the argument with increasing worry. Was she worried, he wondered, that her friends would be in trouble or was it that she was about to pee her panties right there at the table? He smirked, and drawled more careless insults, lengthening her agony. Her fidgeting increased, rocking fast and uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. She bent forward a little, and he noticed how much paler she’d gotten. He’d have gone on at length, insulting Harry’s dead mother and Ron’s fat one, except that Professor McGonagall had started in their direction. He wrapped it up and continued off, disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to see Hermione lose it. He left the Great Hall, intending on heading to the library so he could finish up a little homework without Crabbe and Goyle pestering him. He didn’t see Hermione leave just behind him, but he did hear a horrified gasp in the corridor as headed toward the staircase. Being tucked behind a stone wall, he peeked back behind him to see its cause. It was Christmas! Hermione Granger was standing in the middle of the empty corridor, hands between her legs and frozen stiff. His stomach did excited backflips as he watched her tremble. “Oh no…! Oh no oh no…” she whimpered, dancing back and forth on the red carpet. Her thighs pressed together, hands clenching tight between her legs. Draco felt his face flush, cold shivers trembling through him as he watched. She was going to do it. She was actually going to have an accident. “Ah…ah..!” Hermione gasped, looking down in horror as her legs snapped apart, putting an end to her dance. Pssssssssssssstt….! Her water thundered in the corridor, spraying so hard into the carpet that it bounced back and splashed onto her shoes. “Aaaahhh….” Hermione sighed as she flooded the hall, her skirt and the carpet darkening as her thick golden stream only continued to flow. How could one person, one little girl, possibly hold so much liquid inside her? Either way, Draco loved the look on her face. She liked it, she really liked it. It felt good to let all that pee out…It must have been over two minutes that she emptied herself when the torrent turned into a little trickle and then stopped. Hermione trembled on weak knees, pulling her wand out to clean her lake and her skirt. She sighed, looking all around before heading forward toward the stairs. That was strange to him. What normal girl holds her bladder all day long until she’s bursting, has the biggest accident in the universe in the middle of the hall, and just shrugs it off? He had assumed she would have at least started to cry. Either way, Hermione Granger had marked herself as interesting, and he decided to pay her some special attention. He wasn’t left disappointed over the next week. He watched her closely, and she never once went to the toilets during the day. She would drink at all her meals and spend the day fidgeting and holding until she was bursting. He never saw her wet again that week, but he had put together at the very least the only place she peed was in the Gryffindor Tower. She would always go there directly when she found her limit. It became an obsession to him, over the years, watching her most secret moments. He followed her around the castle and the grounds, whenever she ducked into her hidden places. From abandoned halls and classes, quiet courtyards on the grounds, she would always piss the ocean that had been held up inside her. She never, ever went to the toilet. It led to two conclusions, the first being that Hermione Granger did this on purpose. She liked to wet herself, and around thirteen the fact she’d started to pleasure herself after or during her wets made that conclusion obvious. The second was that Draco himself took no higher pleasure than watching her displays. How perverse on both accounts, he mused as he filled a Pocket Pensive he’d purchased over the summer before 4th year with his memories of her pleasured wettings. With the thrill of the World Cup passing, it was the thought of the coming year that made him giddy. Hermione had wet herself running from the Death Eaters, he was almost certain. When Harry and his friends had rushed into the clearing he’d been waiting in. He’d sassed them, watching how Hermione danced in the background, then doubled over. They never noticed how pee sprayed down against the ground, they were too angry at him or horrified at the treatment of muggles. But he’d seen. And better, Hermione’s eyes had locked with his when it happened. She knew he’d seen. He had something on her, and he knew what he wanted to do with it. All he needed was to catch her one more time, and he knew just how to do it. **** Admittedly, Hermione was worried Draco would have laughed at her right there in the clearing, pointing out her accident to her friends. The fact he hadn’t made her increasingly worried. There was no way he hadn’t noticed. He’d stared right at her as she soaked her jeans. It hadn’t been her intention to wet like that, but the Death Eaters had attacked right before she could slip into the woods and soak herself in private. It wasn’t her fault, or Draco’s really, that he’d seen her. Still, going into the next year with knowing he’d seen her and nothing to resolve it made her uneasy. But what was she to do? It’s not like she could confront him and ask him not to tell anyone she’d wet her pants. She saw him at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters boarding the train with his friends. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, and Theodore Nott were all in a group and chatting. They all leered at Harry as they walked by, but none looked at her. None except Draco. Heat tinted her cheeks and she looked away. He definitely had seen, but he hadn’t shared it with his friends. Why? Something so embarrassing would be fuel for the other Slytherins, and even the fussier Ravenclaws who hated her for her high grades. He had no issue tormenting Harry all last year for only fainting when Dementors came near. The whole of Slytherin house at the very least should have been laughing at her by now. They found their compartments on the train and Hermione felt a surge of need pulse in her bladder. Oh no she thought, already sitting next to the window as the train gave a loud horn blow, signaling its departure. She’d planned to empty her bladder before they got on the train, there were so many little hide aways in Kings Cross to do it. But she’d been caught up in conversation and then caught up in her anxieties when she saw Malfoy. There’d been no time for her to sneak back off the train and hide behind the information booth for the Hogwarts Express. She could have let loose there and got back on the train with no one the wiser… Her bladder throbbed again and she shifted in her seat. She couldn’t outright hold herself and dance like she needed to as her full bladder continued to give her signals. She, Harry, and Ron were all talking seriously about the Dark Mark and the show of Death Eaters at the World Cup. Harry admitted he’d been having nightmares and pains in his scar. This was no time for her bladder to be begging for relief. She suggested Harry write to Sirius, if only to ease his worries and give him something to do while she trembled with need. It was so bad…she had to go so bad. As Harry pulled out pen and parchment, a sudden burst of heat warmed her panties. Hermione bit her lower lip, pressing her thighs together, but with everyone in the room it was all she could do to hold the flood back. It wasn’t quite enough. Another burst of pee bloomed in her knickers again, then another, and another, and another. Her thighs were wet and she felt the seat cushion she was sitting on grow wet. Thankfully, she’d had the sense to pull her skirt out from under her when she felt her needs grow urgent. It was soaking her liquid well, but it wouldn’t hold it all. If she fully lost control, everything would run down the front of the bench and puddle on the floor. Ron and Harry would see, they’d know…She bit the inside of her cheek as another trickle of pee soaked into the seat. She had to get up and find somewhere on the train, and now. “I’ll be right back” Hermione said, not giving a reason but her company didn’t much mind. She set her newspaper on her seat, hiding the stain there, and headed out of the compartment. She dared to give herself a little squeeze once she was alone. The only place that came to mind was the baggage car, they were closer than the toilets were. She hurried down to the end of the train, paling as she felt more spurts of pee warm her wet panties, trickles running down her legs. She hoped she was moving too fast through the students going from compartment to compartment, visiting this friend and that, for anyone else to notice. By the time she had shut herself in the baggage car, she was leaking constantly. “Oh my God, oh my God…!” she squealed, her hand buried in her skirt, wetness soaking through it and wetting her hand. “My, my, my,” Drawled an all too familiar voice. Shock and panic made her moans of need die in her throat. She even stopped wetting for a moment. Draco Malfoy was sitting on top of the first group of trunks, grinning from ear to ear. “M-Malfoy, what are you…?! Ah..Oh..!” she questioned, legs quivering as her bladder throbbed, another stream dribbling out. She crossed her legs, both hands clenching into her girlhood to stop the flow. “Looks like someone really needs a wee,” Draco smirked, “why don’t you just do what you did at the World Cup? You needed a wee then, too.” “N-no I can’t…What’re you doing in here, I…Aah..haaa….oh Merlin…” Hermione was doing her best to avoid the inevitable, but another burst a pee soaked down her legs, sprinkling onto the metal floor below her. Draco’s grin got even wider. “Looks like you can, and you’re already doing it,” he smirked, “Why don’t you let it all out, hm? It’ll feel so good…Doesn’t it always just feel so good, Granger?” How did he know? Why did he know? What was going on? She could hardly string two thoughts together while her bladder burned in her belly and her heart pounded with anxiety in her chest. She couldn’t pee in front of Draco Malfoy! She just couldn’t! But…oh she couldn’t help it anymore. Her bladder was so past its limit, and every little dribble felt so good like he said… “Aah…ahh..! I can’t…I can’t hold it!” she cried out, gasping with shock and shame as a strong torrent of pee burst into her skirt, splashing loudly onto the metal. “Oh no!” she cried again when another burst through her fingers, then another. She was peeing right there, in front of Malfoy and pleasure was still coiling in her belly. He smirked wider and she completely lost it with a cry, a wave of pleasure crashing through her as a full gush of pee released. It was hot and fast and her muscles felt like jelly, unable to clench against the flood. Psssshhhh…! The sound echoed loudly as her pee splashed against the metal, puddling around her. “Aah…haa….ahhhhhh…” she gasped, gulping air as she sighed with relief. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to watch the grin Draco eyed her with. Her release felt too good to worry with him for the moment. Minutes past and she still released her water until only a trickle remained. For long moments more, the only sound between them was a soft dripping from her soaked panties and skirt into the massive puddle she made. Draco adjusted his pants and jumped down off the trunks, giddy as he splashed into the puddle below. The sound made Hermione jump. She looked at him with wide, almost frightened eyes. “Looks like that felt real good, Granger,” he smirked, “you like wetting your knickers, don’t you?” “I…” she started, the haze of relief fading from her eyes, replaced with a narrowed look, gulping a touch, “Look…I didn’t mean…I really had to go…The toilets had a line, and…” “Oh spare me,” Draco scoffed, cutting her off “you’ve been holding it till you burst since first year. You never piss in the loo like a normal person. You find places you think you’re alone and flood the place.” Hermione’s jaw nearly joined her puddle on the floor. “How do you..? How could you possibly…!?” “You were never alone as you thought you were,” he smirked “I’ve been watching the whole time.” “You…you sick pervert!” she snapped, snarling as her hand went to her wand. “Now, now,” he said, pulling his own faster, “there’s no need for that. I’m not going to tell anyone.” “Why?” she demanded, wand still in hand. “I want to play a little game,” he said “and I think you’d like to play too.” “And why’s that?” she growled. “Because you like to pee yourself, and I like to watch,” he grinned “I’m not going to let you watch me pee!” she snapped “I’ve been watching,” he said “and if you won’t play along, I’ll let everyone know.” “You fucking—” “Oh, such language from Little Miss Perfect,” he laughed “Shut up!” she snapped, sparks flying out of her wand. Draco flicked his own, his disarming spell finding its mark since she was so enraged. “Listen here,” he said “I have a whole Pensive of memories of you pissing your panties and diddling off in the wet. If you don’t agree, everyone will see it and think you’re the sick pervert. Do you understand?” “Blackmailing little shit,” she growled, hands balling at her sides. He just chuckled, not caring at all. “So,” he continued, “I want to play a little game…lets call it Master and Servant.” “If you think for one minute I’m going to serve you like some maid, you’ve got another thing coming!” she snapped “Oh please, I have house elves for that,” he said, noting her enraged expression with pleasure, “No, no…but I’m going to be the master of your bladder. I want you to come and get me if you need a wee, and you’ll only get to go if I say so. If not, or if you have an accident, you’re in for a punishment. How’s that sound?” “That sounds terrible! You sick pervert, I’ll never agree to this!” “Well, obviously I’d want you to agree,” he mused “but if you don’t I have the blackmail. Either way I get what I want. But before you get too angry, think it over. You like pissing yourself. You love it, I’d dare to say. And I like to watch you do it. How many guys do you think are gonna be into that? Most people would think that’s perfectly disgusting.” Hermione scowled, crossing her arms. She hated that he had a point. And she had, very secretly, wished someone would watch her. Take pleasure in her pleasure, watching her pee. Maybe even let her sit on a lap as her bladder burst…She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. “So,” she said tersely “you’re saying that if I do as you ask, you won’t tell anyone I wet myself?” “No indeed,” he smiled, “I’d rather let this play out for as long as I’m interested.” “And when you’re bored?” she asked “Well, if you play along nicely, I may not tell everyone you’re filthy girl that likes to piss her knickers,” he smiled wickedly. Hermione huffed, considering her options. She didn’t have many. She was a wet mess, caught in her own puddle by none other than one of the nastiest brats Hogwarts held within its castle walls. And yet…she found his offer strangely appealing. “You swear you won’t say anything if I play along?” she asked “Cross my heart and hope to die,” he grinned. Hermione’s scowl grew, her foot tapping impatiently in her puddle as she mulled it over. “I want some conditions,” she said, making Draco grin wider. “Like what?” “I don’t want to wet where others will see it,” she said, “you can see, but that’s it.” “Fine,” he agreed, “anything else?” “I’m not going to do anything…sexual as a punishment,” she said, heat tinting her cheeks. “Ugh,” Draco scoffed “no, you misunderstand. I still hate you. I still think you’re disgusting Mudblood. I’d never touch you or have any type of feelings. I just like watching you piss.” “Good,” Hermione said coolly, “that was going to be my third condition.” Draco had to laugh at her gumption, hands going into his pockets. She really was something, standing there in a puddle with pissed panties and a wet skirt, so defiant. It was part of the reason she was so very interesting. “So, you agree?” he asked triumphantly. “I agree,” she said with an irritated huff, “but you better not go back on your word or I’ll hex you so hard you’ll have to eat through a straw for the rest of your life!” He laughed again, such a fierce little thing! He liked this situation very much. “Now, now, that’s no way to talk to your Master…” “If you think I’m gonna call you that—” “I do, and you will, or Draco, or else you’re gonna get punished.” She scowled. “Fine, Draco…” she growled, “if you’re through, I’m going back to my compartment.” “Dripping wet?” he smirked, making her blush. Before she could retrieve her wand from where his spell had flung it, he cast his own cleaning charms. Her panties warmed and dried between her legs, her socks and skirt as well. The puddle followed next and it was like it never happened. “There, now you can’t say I’m not a nice master, can you?” he teased, moving to grab her wand for her. She snatched from his hand and turned heel, her bushy hair smacking him in the face. “One more thing” he said before she opened the door, “make sure you order a fizzy pumpkin juice from the trolley, and drink at least four goblets at dinner. Don’t pee before you go to bed, and meet me on the fourth floor, the unused classroom near the Charms classroom. You know the one, you piss in there when you’ve overheld it.” “Fine!” she snapped, reddening when he mentioned a favorite wetting spot of hers. The knowledge unnerved her, adding fact to the story he told. She stormed out of the baggage car, fuming with anger. Draco was left chuckling at his own brilliant idea and took a long moment to reward himself with a little pleasure, fueling it with her most recent release.
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