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Howdy everyone! Some of my favorite stories on this site are the ones set in some kind of dystopian hellhole where there are laws prohibiting or restricting female urination - it's an exciting fantasy to think about, albeit a horrific human rights violation if applied in real life. This got me thinking, though, what about a society where there aren't necessarily these dystopian laws restricting restroom access, but holding is just kind of a peculiar custom that's been part of a culture for as long as anyone can remember? What if the people there don't really feel the need to pass any laws on the subject because that's just the way they've always done things? I wrote this little summary of a bizarre country with bizarre customs that others may find repulsive, but hey, that's just the way they like to live! - Bart Z. I come from a small island nation in the Indian Ocean called the Kingdom of Jalabhumi. We are quite remote and removed from the rest of the world, but we have gradually begun to open up to the world in recent years. Most people don’t even know our country exists, but the people who do know about us are always highly impressed by our unique culture and stunning natural landscapes. The people of Jalabhumi are a mix of the many different groups who settled on our island over the years, ancient navigators who came from Southern India, the eastern coast of Africa, Sumatra, and Java. The Jalabhumese language is Dravidian in origin, somewhat related to Malayalam, but with some Bantu and Austronesian elements. Our religion is polytheistic and unlike any other in the world. Our cuisine is largely based on fish, nuts, and fruits, with our island’s fertile soil producing the juiciest and sweetest fruits you can possibly imagine. Our society is highly matriarchal and our monarchy is matrilineal, with women largely dominating society and politics from the very earliest days of our country’s foundation. In fact, men were not even granted the right to vote until 1997, as our formerly reclusive nation gradually began to be exposed to the outside world. Women are traditionally viewed as the indispensable overseers of the country, mothers, matriarchs, and carriers of children. Men are viewed as the more dispensable, dedicated warriors willing to die to protect the nation and its women, collect food, and provide the seed for the next generation. As you can tell, our culture is extremely unique. However, quite possibly the most unique cultural trait about our country is something that often astonishes visitors more than anything else about us. Many who come here hate this practice, or think it’s a savage way of thinking by an “uncivilized” nation, but I have come to this website because I think I may have found the one group of people in the world who will appreciate this ancient custom so dear to us. You see, in our culture, it is viewed as socially unacceptable for women to urinate, at least in the manner and frequency that they do in most other parts of the world. Girls are trained to hold large amounts of liquid in their bladders from adolescence onwards. By the age of 20, a woman is expected to be able to go at least, at the very, VERY least, 48 hours of drinking a large volume of liquid without allowing one drop to escape her bladder. Women’s restrooms are practically nonexistent in this country and the majority of women adamantly oppose any effort to build any new ones to accommodate the growing tourist industry. Women here largely view unlimited access to urination as a barbaric and disgusting foreign custom, entirely alien to, and incompatible with Jalabhumese values. Foreigners who come here are often viewed as disrespectful for demanding more restrooms and for urinating openly in the sea and in the forests. While we are grateful for the increased volume of visitors who have come here in recent years to contribute to our economy, we only wish they could respect the local customs a little more and not try to impose their alien way of life on our country. This custom is not something we would normally even think about on a day to day basis. Jalabhumese women view a perpetually full bladder as a mundane part of daily living; part and parcel of the experience of womanhood. Free urination is considered to be a habit of men, an example of men’s perceived lack of self-control, whether sexually or otherwise. A woman’s ability to control her bladder shows dignity, discipline, and self-restraint. The only time we really think about our custom is when foreign women (or more rarely, the occasional undisciplined Jalabhumese woman) either urinates uncontrollably or complains about needing to urinate. To give an example in more familiar terms, it’s like how you might not think about how rude and uncivilized it is to belch or fart in polite company until you see someone doing it. Or perhaps if you see someone cough in someone’s face instead of covering their mouth. With our country’s newfound popularity amongst travelers, we have been forced to look inward and truly think about how different our customs are from other places. The custom of women holding their urine in rather than releasing it is an ancient one, and is even baked into Jalabhumi’s traditional religion and our national origin myth. On this island, we worship many gods and goddesses, but the highest among them is the great Goddess Anakketta. In the past, other gods were worshipped to a higher degree than they are today, but devotion to Anakketta has served us so well over the years that She is widely considered to be the symbol of the nation. According to the ancient texts, Anakketta was once a simple island girl born in a time dominated by men. In this time, everyone let their waters loose freely without any thought. Anakketta was considered a very strange girl because she would drink and drink and drink, her bladder would expand, and she would hold it all in. The men of the island were repulsed by her habits and made fun of her, but the women were impressed and many of them joined her. The men, frightened by their wives participating in such a strange activity, banished Anakketta to the hills and forbade their wives from keeping their bladders full. But one day, after a storm, an enormous tidal wave appeared, threatening to drown everyone on the island. The men who banished Anakketta realized they had no one else to turn to. They rushed to the hills and called upon her to save them. And so, she opened her mouth wide, swallowed the giant wave, and held back the flood. No matter how full her bladder got, she did not leak one drop. It was at this moment when the simple girl Anakketta became a goddess. As the men of the island bowed to Her and apologized for their mistake, She forgave them, but She also asked the islanders to abide by Her rules: She will continue to hold back the flood and protect the island, but she cannot do it alone. All women must help her by holding back their own floods. They must drink and drink and drink, let their bladders expand, and hold it all in, just as Anakketta had done for them. But the men objected. They told the Goddess that they couldn’t possibly hold in their waters the way women do. But Anakketta simply smiled, and answered that She does not need the help of men. Since the men have demonstrated that they do not have the spiritual strength that women do, they cannot be trusted to maintain discipline with such a task. So, the men of the island would be free to release their waters as much as they want, but as a consequence, they will lose their dominant position in society and the women would rule. The islanders all agreed to these terms, and thus, the nation of Jalabhumi was born. To this day, the Goddess Anakketta is believed to be a dam protecting Jalabhumi, and the women of the island are the maintenance workers, working hard to make sure She stays intact. Religious devotion to Anakketta is pervasive in all aspects of society. Obviously, a human woman cannot hold her urine forever like a powerful Goddess can. But when a Jalabhumese woman does eventually succumb to the inevitable need to empty her bladder, there is a ritual that must be done first. Jalabhumese women, typically in groups, will approach an altar dedicated to Anakketta and recite a prayer thanking Her for continuing to hold back the flood. Once finished, each woman will urinate into a container while praying to Anakketta to take on the liquid that they were unable to hold. The urine is then taken by a priestess to be poured into the ocean, which is believed to represent the infinite bladder capacity of the Goddess. Men such as myself, on the other hand, typically just pee into the ocean whenever we want. We do pray to Anakketta and thank her constantly for not giving us this burden. We are grateful for our wives and girlfriends and mothers and sisters for sacrificing comfort, and we devote ourselves to protecting them and making them happy. And of course, I won’t lie and say that most Jalabhumese men aren’t intensely attracted to a woman who can hold a lot of liquid for a long time. It is a major turn on for myself and many of my male friends to see a bulging bladder on a woman. While some of us are impressed by the beauty of foreign women, sorry ladies, but most Jalabhumese men won’t even approach women unless we can see how full your bladder is. We view women as the backbone of our society. They protect us spiritually, while we defend them physically. One such woman for whom the people of Jalabhumi have the utmost devotion, is our Queen, Archita Ottakam XIV. She is a member of the Ottakam dynasty, perhaps one of the oldest reigning dynasties in the world. Much like how the Emperors of Japan were traditionally believed to be the descendants of Amaterasu, we believe that the Queen of Jalabhumi is the direct descendant of Anakketta. Only women are allowed to reign as monarch, just as Anakketta commanded. It is often said that the royals of Jalabhumi have the most powerful bladders in the entire world. Queen Archita herself is said to only empty her bladder once every year - and while we often like to believe that for fun, we all know it’s just an exaggeration. However, her capacity is extremely impressive, even for Jalabhumese standards. She is often spotted in public sporting a humongous bladder bulge, making her look eight months pregnant. While seeing bladder bulges are extremely common in our country, hers is amongst the largest. Royal women are trained from an early age to expand their bladder capacities as much as possible. It takes an extreme amount of discipline and prayer to Anakketta. The women of this country adore and admire our Queen and seek to model themselves and their lives after her. We believe that our faith in the Goddess Anakketta and Her ability to hold back the flood has helped us remain an independent kingdom, uninterrupted by any foreign invaders for millennia. Throughout the colonial period, many a European empire tried to claim our island and failed spectacularly. First came the Portuguese, and then the Dutch, and then the French, and then the British. And one by one, we fought them off. As India, Africa, and Indochina fell prey to European forces, we held back the flood and remained a self-governing nation. In 1941, as other nations fell to the Japanese, we held back the flood. In 1961, when India invaded Goa, they also tried to invade us, but we held back the flood. Today, as China and the United States squabble for influence all over Asia, we hold back the flood. And it doesn’t even just end at protecting our nation from foreign invaders, but also from the danger of rising tides. Neighboring islands such as the Maldives, the British Indian Ocean Territory, and the Indian state of Lakshadweep are all in danger of sinking into the sea as climate change causes the sea level to rise. Yet despite our close proximity to these nations, our island is protected by its geography - it is high enough to avoid flooding and its hilly landscape gives us ample protection whenever a storm comes. We believe that Anakketta protects us by holding back the flood, and our continued maintenance of our tradition honors Her sacrifice to us. We owe all our respects to Anakketta, and thus, we continue to practice the tradition that we believe honors Her and the protection She bestows. This is why we hold this custom so closely to our hearts. It is as important to the Jalabhumese religion as it is for Muslims to avoid eating pork - such a custom may seem strange to outsiders, but if you come from an Islamic background, you’d be just as shocked to see someone who professes to be a Muslim eating bacon as I would be to see a Jalabhumese woman shamelessly emptying her bladder. As I have said, you all here on omorashi.org are probably one of the only groups of people who appreciate and respect our unique custom for what it is. I hope to one day see some of you in my country, and to participate in our ancient customs! Please let me know if there are any questions you have about my country. I would be happy to answer! Thank you.

Summary: When fourteen-year-old Agnes is caught making out with a boy, her religious parents ship her off to Mary Magdalen's Home for Girls, a corrective institution for ungodly young women. Agnes isn't too worried, but as it turns out, this is nothing like Bible Camp. Their aim is to drive out the devil, and they will do so by any means necessary. So, this is an idea I've been kicking around for a while, and I just never knew quite how to write it. The idea started when I read an article about special religious 'schools' in the US where unruly girls were sent to be taught to be good Christians, basically, and where methods ranged from the mundane to the outright sadistic. Please read the tags. This will not be a nice, fluffy or cute story. I'll add extra content warnings to future chapters if necessary. Please consider yourself warned. ————— CHAPTER ONE Agnes stared out of the bus window, at the country side swishing past. It was about four in the afternoon, and the day was sunny and hot. She yawned and scratched her cheek, where she had a mosquito bite. She was fourteen years old. Her dark brown hair fell in ringlets around her summer freckled face and she wore a brown skirt and blue blouse. On the seat next to her stood a small suitcase. It contained mostly underwear, a few other clothing items and a Bible. Her parents had been told that everything else would be provided. The representative from Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls had arrived at their church only a week before. She had brought three young girls, a bit older than Agnes, in neat white gowns, who had testified about how they had been led so astray by the Devil and how Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls had helped them find their way back to the Lord. This had been a couple of days before Agnes was caught making out with a boy from school, and her parents had decided that something had to be done about their daughter’s wicked ways. And so they had called Mary Magdalene’s Home for Girls, and asked if they had an opening. It turned out they did. The bus slowed to a halt. An older woman in the front, who had introduced herself as Miss Corrine when Agnes and about a dozen other girls had filed into the bus that morning, stood up. ‘All right, get your bags, we’re here,’ she said. Agnes picked up her small suitcase and shuffled out of the bus together with the other girls. As she stepped off the bus, she saw that they were in the middle of nowhere. ‘We’ll continue on foot,’ said Miss Corrine. ‘The path is too narrow for the bus.’ She set off down a narrow dirt road at a quick pace. The girls hurried to keep up. Agnes looked around. Flat grass land surrounded them as far as the eye could see, with a few trees sticking up here and there. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. They walked for what must have been at least twenty minutes and the heat was stifling, but then they rounded a corner and the large compound appeared. The girls who had spoken at their church had made it sound like a farm or a ranch, but Agnes couldn’t see any animals. The place seemed barren and dry, and it was surrounded by a chain link fence. It looked more like a prison. Which Agnes supposed it was. Her parents had sent her off, without her consent, to a correctional facility where she would learn to be a good Christian. Her crime had been kissing a boy, wearing tight jeans and not paying attention in Bible Study group. Which apparently meant she was promiscuous and ungodly. Agnes had been a good little girl, growing up. Whether out of fear for her father’s belt, her mother’s words, or simply because she was so sheltered, she had hardly ever done anything wrong. She had seen her older brother beaten for talking back, and that was enough to dissuade her from breaking any rules. But entering her teens, Agnes had become more strong willed. She had doubted the religion her parents had pushed upon her since birth, she had wanted to do her own thing, but a small town in Kansas wasn’t a good place to be a rebel. There was always someone watching, and word got back to her parents for every little thing she did. Miss Corrine led them into an entrance area. A man in a crisp light brown suit stood there waiting for them. ‘Welcome!’ he said warmly and beamed at them all. ‘My nam is Mr. Portman. I am the owner and leader of this establishment, and I’m so pleased to see so many new faces!’ He went on for a couple of minutes, about how their time at Mary Magdalene would help them build character and become better people, how the light of God would save them from the Devil’s influence and make model citizens of them, good mothers and wives, and most importantly, good Christians. Agnes glanced around as he spoke. The walls of the room were white, and the floor was grey linoleum. There was a reception desk at one end, but no chairs or sofas by way of a waiting area. The only art work was a large painting of Jesus on the wall behind Mr. Portman. When Mr. Portman had finished speaking, Miss Corrine opened a door off to one side. A dozen girls walked into the room, in a neat line. Like the girls who had come to their church, these girls wore white dresses. They all had their hands clasped in front of them. They lined up opposite Agnes and the other new girls. ‘These are your Big Sisters,’ said Mr. Portman. ‘We have a buddy system here. You will each be assigned a Big Sister who will teach you our rules, show you around and help you find your feet. I will call your names, and the names of your Big Sisters. When you have paired up, your Big Sister will take you to your sleeping quarters and give you a uniform to wear. They will then accompany you to supper, before we all gather for evening prayer.’ Agnes stood as patiently as she could while Mr. Portman started reading off the names on his list. Her name was the last to be read. ‘Agnes Williams,’ said Mr. Portman, ‘your Big Sister will be Mary-Louise Miller.’ The girl who stepped up to Agnes was a couple of years older. She was tall and blonde, with sparkling blue eyes and a sweet smile. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Agnes!’ she said and shook her hand. She spoke in a soft southern accent, her voice a lilting alto. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.’ Mary-Louise brought her to a dormitory down a couple of corridors. There were eight beds in it. One other new girl was being inducted a couple of beds down. ‘I’m in the bed next to yours,’ said Mary-Louise. ‘That way I can keep tabs on you. I’m sure we’ll be best friends!’ She beamed. ‘Here, let me find your uniform.’ She walked up to the small dresser that stood next to the bed. ‘You get two of these,’ she explained, taking out a white dress like her own. ‘We don’t wear any other clothes here, so you won’t be needing anything but your own underwear and night clothes. There’s room in the dresser for that. There’s a bathroom and showers at the end of the hall. Now, get changed.’ Agnes took off her own clothes and put on the white dress. Perhaps this place wasn’t so bad, she thought. Everyone seemed friendly… Maybe she’d be all right. It was only for three months, after all. Mary-Louise took her to supper when she was done changing. On the way she told her about the daily routine at Mary Magdalene’s. ‘We get up at six every day for morning prayers, before breakfast at seven thirty,’ she said. ‘After breakfast we have Bible Study classes, quiet meditation, things like that, all day, until about five pm. Lunch is at one, and supper is at seven in the evening. We have free time between five and seven. Then we have evening prayer at eight, which is one hour, and the showers are open between nine and ten. Lights out at ten pm.’ ‘Sounds very strict,’ said Agnes. ‘It is,’ said Mary-Louise, ‘but we’re better people for it. Routines are key.’ The mess was a large, white room with several long tables. Agnes was at once struck by how quiet it was. The tables were almost full, but the few who were speaking were doing so in hushed murmurs and whispers. Mary-Louise led her to one of the tables and they sat down. A few minutes later, Mr. Portman, Miss Corrine and a few other staff members came marching into the room. The room fell completely silent. They sat down at a smaller, empty table at the far end. Mr. Portman was last to sit, and before he did, he gave a curt nod to the table closest. As one, the girls at that table stood up, in silence, and marched over to the counter. They each took a tray, and were handed plates of food by serving staff. One table at a time, the girls went to collect their food. Soon it was Agnes’s turn. It was eerie. The only sounds in the room were shuffling feet, the chinking of cutlery and hushed voices from the staff table. The girls all ate in complete silence, it seemed. Approaching the counter, Agnes realised that the serving staff all appeared to be teenaged girls like herself. She wondered fleetingly if they were other students, but was too tired to bother questioning Mary-Louise about it. She was served a vegetable soup with a roll on the side. There were no other choices, and no butter for the roll. She was given water to drink. The soup didn’t taste like much, but Agnes was hungry, so she ate all of it. So, it seemed, did everybody else. There were no second helpings, however. Exhausted after the long journey and the new impressions of the day, Agnes sat through evening prayer in a daze, mimicking the other girls and moving her lips as best she could. Afterwards she had a quick shower and went to bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow. ————— Getting up the next morning was hard. Mary-Louise had to shake her several times before at last Agnes sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. ‘Time’s it?’ she murmured. ‘Already five past six,’ said Mary-Louise. ‘Hurry up and get dressed or we’ll be late for morning prayer!’ Agnes got up and put on her dress. She tied back her dark hair, now messy from sleep. ‘I won’t always be here to wake you up, you know,’ Mary-Louise admonished her as they set off towards the chapel. ‘You’re gonna have to learn to get up on your own.’ ‘Sorry,’ Agnes mumbled. She still didn’t feel properly awake. She longed for coffee or something else to wake her up. She sat through morning prayer trying her best not to doze off, though she appeared to not quite manage, as Mary-Louise had to poke her several times to make her pay attention. After prayer they went down to the mess for breakfast. Agnes ate a couple of spoonfuls of the bland porridge she had been served and then spent the rest of the meal poking at it with her spoon. She drank orange juice (there was no coffee) and tried to stifle her yawns. ‘Aren’t you going to finish your food?’ whispered Mary-Louise after a while. Her plate was empty and she sat with her hands in her lap, looking curiously at her charge. ‘I’m not really hungry,’ replied Agnes, sleepily. ‘I can never eat in the mornings.’ ‘But you have to eat it,’ said Mary-Louise. ‘Those are the rules. Everyone has to empty their plate at every meal. You have no choice.’ ‘But I can’t, I’m not hungry.’ Mary-Louise studied her, frowning. ‘Fine,’ she said, after a moment. Then she got up, and walked over to the staff table. She whispered something to Miss Corrine, who stood up and came back with her. Everyone stopped eating and looked up. Miss Corrine approached Agnes, looking stern. ‘Everyone has to finish their food here, Agnes,’ she said. Agnes was sure everybody could hear her as the room was so quiet. ‘Perhaps we hadn’t made that clear?’ ‘I’m sorry, Miss Corrine,’ said Agnes, trying for a smile, ‘but I just can’t eat if I’m not hungry.’ ‘Do you squander the gifts the good Lord gives you?’ asked Miss Corrine. ‘No, ma’am…’ Agnes frowned, her smile faltering. ‘I mean, I don’t mean to, but you give us big portions, so . . .’ ‘You will finish your food, Agnes, or there will be consequences,’ said Miss Corrine. Mr. Portman stood from the staff table then, and came towards them. ‘What’s all this then?’ he asked calmly. ‘Agnes refuses to eat, sir,’ said Mary-Louise softly. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Mr. Portman turned to Agnes. ‘I would prefer if you eat what’s on your plate.’ ‘But, sir, I’m not hungry!’ Agnes’s voice had gained an edge now. She felt annoyed. Surely it was none of anyone else’s business whether she ate breakfast or not? ‘Then I’m afraid you leave me with no choice,’ said Mr. Portman sadly. ‘Miss Corrine, look after everything here. Agnes, Mary-Louise, come with me, please.’ Agnes’s stomach churned as she stood. What was to happen now? They followed Mr. Portman out of the mess and down the hall towards a door. Upon entering, Agnes discovered the room beyond to be Mr. Portman’s office. It contained a heavy mahogany desk and several bookcases. Mr. Portman sat down behind the desk while the girls remained standing. ‘It pains me to have to do this already on your first day, Agnes,’ said Mr. Portman without looking at them, adjusting a cup full of pens on his desk. ‘But the rules here are strict and meant to be followed. Everything we do here is for your own good, to teach you girls to be good, Christian women. You are sinful by nature. You need guidance. You are here because the Devil has taken up residence in you. I am here because I wish to drive him out.’ There was a silence. Agnes stared down at her tan ballerina flats, saying nothing. ‘Now, as for your punishment.’ Mr. Portman stood, walking over to one of the bookshelves where a jug of water and several glasses stood. ‘Mary-Louise, I delegate to you to make sure that Agnes drinks one glass of water every hour until lunch. You are also to make sure she doesn’t go to the restroom in that time. If she is ready then to show appreciation for the gifts that God has given her and empties her plate, she may visit the restroom after. We’ll start now.’ He filled a glass with water and walked around his desk, handing the glass to Agnes. ‘Drink up.’ Agnes took the glass. Something squirmed in her stomach. She was to go five hours without going to the bathroom while drinking copious amounts of water? It seemed hardly possible. Mr. Portman made an impatient sound, a clearing of the throat and, without looking at him, Agnes lifted the glass to her lips and drained it in a few gulps. Thankfully it wasn’t a very large glass, but she suddenly wished that she hadn’t had all that orange juice. Mr. Portman dismissed them, and the two girls left his office. They walked in silence for a while. Breakfast was over and it was time for the first class of the day. When they exited the main building to walk across the dry grass to one of the smaller ones, Agnes finally spoke. ‘Why did you tell on me like that?’ she asked softly. She felt Mary-Louise glance at her out of the corner of her eye for a moment before answering. ‘Like he said. You’re here because you’ve got the Devil in you. They can’t help you expel him if you don’t follow the rules. I did it for your own good. Besides, they would have noticed sooner or later anyway.’ Agnes rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, I see. You did it for me, not to show what a good girl you are. Your motives were purely altruistic.’ She was unable to keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice. Mary-Louise stopped and turned to her. ‘We’re encouraged to take care of each other here, Agnes.’ Her voice still had the sweet tone of before, but something in her look was cold. ‘We help each other get better. I was like you when I got here. I had demons inside me making me wilful, making me talk back, making me flaunt the rules. The other girls helped me see the error of my ways, helped me shake off the demons and become a better person. I’m not there yet. Us girls, we’re sinful by nature and it’s only by giving ourselves over to the Lord completely that we can rid ourselves of that sin. I’m getting there, and helping you will help me get there. When you do good you are rewarded. When you do bad you’re punished. All we’re doing here is giving a taste in life of the punishments that await the wicked after death.’ She turned away and began to walk again. ‘The Devil loves pleasure and fears pain. It is with pain you drive him out.’ She sounded like a text book. Like she had memorised all these things and was parroting them back the way she’d been taught. This frightened Agnes more than the words themselves. She hadn’t had much choice but to come here like her parents wanted, and she had been resigned to her fate. Spend three months at yet another ‘Bible Camp’, act like a good girl, and then go home. But the certainty with which Mary-Louise spoke, her blind faith in her words and acceptance of the status quo, that was terrifying. It told Agnes that this place changed people, and that if she wasn’t careful it would change her too, and she would lose her sense of self. By ten o’clock, Agnes had lost her ability to sit still. She fidgeted in her seat while Miss Corrine told them the story of Adam and Eve and explained how Eve’s weakness had damned all women and steeped them in sin. How purity and obedience were the only way towards salvation for any girl. Agnes only picked up bits and pieces, her rapidly filling bladder distracting her. An hour later she was bouncing in her seat, rocking back and forth and trying to refrain from putting her hands between her legs and hold herself. Mary-Louise kept obediently getting up, every hour on the hour, to get her a glass of water. Miss Corrine appeared to have been informed, because she said nothing. Either that or this was such a common occurrence that it hardly bore notice. At one the girls returned to the mess for lunch, and by now Agnes was beginning to feel like she couldn’t possibly hold it for much longer. She took tiny steps and had to stop often to cross her legs or bend forward and clutch herself, and she felt the occasional trickle go into her panties. Mary-Louise walked next to her patiently. Agnes couldn’t have told anyone what was for lunch. It was bland and no doubt very healthy, and she wolfed it down at record speed, hoping that if she just finished it all she would be allowed a bathroom break. When Mr. Portman came over to inspect her plate and gave a satisfied smile, she shot to her feet. ‘Can I . . .’ She could hardly get the words out and cleared her throat, dancing slightly on the spot. She decided it would be better to be polite. ‘May I please be excused for the restroom now, sir?’ she asked as sweetly as she could. Mr. Portman’s smile widened. ‘Of course you may.’ Agnes shot out of the mess like a bullet and only just made it to the toilet in time. Peeing had never felt so wonderful as at that moment. She went for at least a minute, voiding her bladder in a hard, steady stream. She had to bite her lip in order not to moan. She was pretty sure moaning was a sin. ————— The afternoon was spent in so called quiet meditation, which essentially meant sitting in the chapel staring at the cross on the wall. It was impossible for Agnes not to let her mind wander. She thought about home, about her bedroom and her CDs. She realised with a jolt that she had never gone this long without listening to music before. Unless one counted the psalms they sung during prayer, which Agnes most certainly did not. If it didn’t have a beat it wasn’t much worth a damn. She wondered how much she’d miss dancing by the end of her stay at Mary Magdalen’s. She wondered if she would even remember her favourite songs, going so long without hearing them. And what about her friends? Agnes sighed deeply at this thought. She missed her friends. Ava, the trivia machine who knew everything. Lily, who was so fashionable and sweet and always helped Agnes with her make-up. Wayne, who hung out with them and who Agnes was pretty sure would turn out to be gay. She would have given just about anything right then to sit in the park with the three of them, sharing a stolen cigarette and laughing about something they’d seen on TV. Would they still like her when she got back? She looked away from the cross on the wall, glancing about the chapel as covertly as she could manage. Everyone else seemed to be doing what they were supposed to. Some had their hands clasped, lips moving in silent prayer. Others had closed their eyes and looked almost blissful. Next to her, Mary-Louise sat with her hands in her lap, a serene smile playing on her lips and her eyes out of focus. Agnes found herself wondering what she was thinking. Agnes was about to return her gaze to the cross, figuring that one person not doing what she was supposed to was bound to stick out like a sore thumb, when she spotted another girl who seemed to have her mind elsewhere as well. A redheaded, freckled girl who might have been a year or two older than Agnes sat picking at her dress, looking deeply bored. As though she could feel Agnes’s eyes on her, she looked up and met her gaze. She smiled and rolled her eyes in commiseration, before, heaving what was obviously a heavy and demonstrative sigh, returning her gaze to her own lap. Agnes was too taken aback to return the smile before it was too late. ————— At five o’clock Mary-Louise finally left Agnes’s side to go hang out with some girls from a different dorm. She asked Agnes to join her, but Agnes had happily refused, longing for some time on her own. She made her way to the common room, which was next to the mess, and sat down in an almost comfortable arm chair. There was a bookshelf in the common room, but it contained only titles like How to Be a Good Girl and Rejecting Satan: A Guide to Spiritual Cleansing, in addition to half a dozen Bibles and several prayer books. There was also an out of tune piano with a sign on it saying that it was not to be played without express permission. So Agnes sat back in her chair and let her mind wander. Somebody pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. Dragged out of her thoughts, Agnes glanced sideways at the newcomer. It was the redhead from earlier. ‘Hey,’ said the girl, smiling. ‘I’m Maddie. What’s your name?’ ‘I’m Agnes,’ said Agnes, sitting up slightly. She took in Maddie’s appearance. She was very pretty, with sparkling green eyes, thin pink lips and a button nose. Her red hair was wavy and shoulder length. ’So, what are you in for, Agnes?’ asked Maddie, leaning back in her chair with her hands behind her head. Agnes looked away, blushing slightly. ‘Kissing a boy. And probably some other things too.’ She glanced at Maddie again and found her smiling. ‘What about you?’ ‘Well, let’s see, where to start . . .’ Maddie counted on her fingers. ‘Having opinions, reading William Blake, disobedience and masturbation. Plus lack of shame for all of the above.’ Agnes laughed nervously. ‘Well, that’s quite a list.’ Maddie shrugged. ‘It all boils down to the same thing, really. Being a girl and not feeling sorry about it.’ Her expression changed to a more serious one. ‘How are you holding up? I gathered that Portman gave you the old water torture. It’s a favourite of his.’ Her eyes seemed to darken at this and her voice took on a bitter edge. ‘Sucks to have to go through that your first day.’ ‘Yeah, well . . .’ Agnes looked away uncomfortably. ‘Been through it lots of times myself,’ Maddie continued. ‘Portman’s punishments just don’t seem to bite, though. I’ve been here for like six months, and I’m still the same ungodly, sinful creature as I was when I got here. At this rate I’ll grow old and die in this hellhole.’ Agnes looked around nervously. She was pretty sure that this was not a conversation they were meant to be having, but no one seemed to be listening to them. That made her feel braver. ‘I miss my friends,’ she said. ‘I just really wanna go home.’ ‘Yeah,’ said Maddie. ‘Me too. But, hey. I don’t know if I’m right, but I kind of feel like you and me get each other. So, you know, maybe we could be friends?’ Agnes smiled. ‘I’d like that.’ ‘Cool. Just don’t tell Big Sister Mary-Louise about it.’ As they talked, Agnes thought that if Maddie could spend six months at Mary Magdalen’s and still be normal, maybe there was hope for her too.

Here’s a challenge: Make up an entire religion (or cult, I guess) centred around peeing, desperation and all of that good omorashi stuff. I’m excited to see what you creative people come up with!