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Found 1 result

  1. Nineteen

    Cabin Individual

    "Oh my god! Nineteen isn't dead!" That's right! I am not deceased... I just lost my motivation to write for a pretty long while. I apologize if this story isn't as good as the other ones as I am shaking off the rust, but if you like it, I'd love it if you left a comment telling me so! Do you like my title? I named it like that because of the movie Cabin Boy that I heard of from Game Grumps and because this story is centered around a cabin, but I said "Individual" instead of "Boy" or "Girl" because, as usual, I've left the gender unclear so you can picture me however you like. So, now, without further ado, here is my story! ... I had been on break for a while before I went out to help my aging grandparents with upkeep at their cabin. They lived in a normal house, naturally, but the cabin functioned as their summer (and occasionally winter) home. It was rustic to the point of being slightly disgusting in some ways. For example, the shower was nothing but a bathtub with a shower-curtain draped around it that stuck to my chest and back side every time I climbed in and gave the sensation of being groped inappropriately. I avoided showering when I could. I had asked my grandparents if they needed my help when I went to visit them upon arriving home. I hadn’t managed to land a job for the summer, so I decided that helping them was the least I could do. They said they could use a spritely young body on board to help out with roof repairs and moving heavy things, then gave me an address to head for and a date that they would be departing. I left with every intention of going, so the night before they said they were leaving, I set my alarm for 8 A.M., fully expecting them to be early risers like I imagined many older people were. To my surprise and distress, I managed to sleep through my alarm completely and woke up nearly an hour late. I showered quickly, threw on clothes and rushed to my car. Their house was near my family’s, so I drove by before heading for the cabin to see if they were still there. They weren’t, and I cursed under my breath as I drove past their house and out of town. The cabin was a three hour drive, and I hoped that I would have time to catch up to them if I took minimal breaks and drove quickly. Now, the savvy reader may see where this is going- some stressed out college student pushes themself too hard and ends up having an accident for no reason- but what if I surprised you by telling you that my grandparents are actually very punctual and very judgemental of people who aren’t? Now what, smart guy/girl? Yes, my grandparents have always been strict about arriving in a timely manner, so I certainly didn’t push myself for no reason. I assumed they would be angry at me if I showed up after they did, so I was in a hurry to get there as soon as possible. The first hour of the drive was relatively uneventful. I drove five miles over the speed limit (I would’ve gone faster except I really don’t like to speed) and stopped to grab a green tea because I was feeling drowsy (I also don’t like coffee). I shifted in my seat on occasion, but for the most part, I was able to ignore my bladder and enjoy the music on the radio. It was only during the second hour that I really began to feel my bladder. As the first hour ended and the clock shifted from 10 to 11, I began to squirm a little. I had put on skinny jeans that morning instead of my favorite summertime, just-barely-too-short-to-be-decent shorts because, although it was quite warm out, I knew the cabin would be buggy and the less of my skin the pests could reach, the better. Now, though, I grimaced as the button of those skinny jeans pushed into my bladder. Maybe wearing them for the trip hadn’t been such a good idea. Even so, I was still confident I could make it to the cabin without incident… until the green tea hit me. At around 11:30 I finished off the bottle, and quite soon after, I began to feel the urine building far more quickly in my bladder. As the first wave of desperation hit, I squeezed my knees together more tightly, tightening my muscles against my growing desperation, but that was all I dared to do. I was on the highway by that point and I was all too aware of the kind of mistakes I could and would have if I didn’t give my full attention to the road. They had, after all, happened before. By the third hour, I dared to move around quite a bit. I could feel my bladder fighting against me, but there was nothing I could do about it. Near 12:15, I had my first leak. I still couldn’t take my eyes off the road or cross my legs, but I used one of my hands to grab my crotch and hold on for dear life. I tightened my jaw, locked my thighs around my hand and tried with everything I had to hold it back, but all of that still didn’t stop a few drops of pee from dampening my underwear. After I had regained control, I gingerly used the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel to unbutton my jeans. The relief only lasted a moment before the pressure set back in, but I was able to relax my legs as, without the added pressure of the button, I could hold back my urine with my kegel muscles alone. It only took another few minutes for the pressure to reach critical levels again. The GPS on my phone said I still had twenty minutes to go, as I had driven fast enough to shave off a few minutes of the three hour drive. With a toilet so close, I knew I couldn’t give up now. I hoped I was ahead of my grandparents so I could use the bathroom without them hearing the enormous amounts of pee coming out of me, but if I didn’t beat them there, the whole struggle would have been in vain, so it was really all or nothing. With renewed confidence in my ability to make it to the cabin with jeans unpeed, I returned my focus to the road… only to have another huge wave of desperation breach my bladder’s walls and wet my underwear again. It took me completely by surprise and, without a second to prepare, all I could do was stop it as quickly as possible. It took me nearly a second to reign it in, and, without looking, I already knew it had left a wet spot on my jeans. I cursed and, in a moment of despair, let tears blur my vision. I’m going to wet myself, I thought sadly. Then, looking at my phone again and seeing that I still only had a few minutes left, I steeled my resolve. No. I will not ruin my car seats like this! With determination in my heart, I unbuckled my seatbelt to spare myself as much unnecessary pressure as possible and squeezed my thighs together as hard as I could without crossing my legs. I was going to make it. I had to. With fifteen minutes to go, I was shifting desperately in my seat again, this time almost constantly. I had pulled onto a pretty empty road, so I wasn’t too worried about crashing into the cars in front of me. With ten minutes, I was shaking and positively bursting. I knew that, if I didn’t get there soon, I would pee myself right there in the car. I sped up a little. With five minutes left in the journey, I turned onto the dirt road that led to the cabin. This was where things really started to fall apart. The road was ill-maintained and covered in… can they be called potholes if they’re not in pavement? Whatever. The road was filled with dirt potholes and bumpy as can be. I was already on the verge of losing control, but one or two of the potholes were big enough to jolt the pee out of me. After a couple more leaks, I was ready to give up, but the cabin came into view just in time. I pulled into the driveway shaking in anticipation and desperation. I turned off the car and braced myself for the strain of climbing out. It took a lot of energy not to wet myself completely, but I made it out of the car with relatively little damage. Upon closer inspection, I had left a small wet spot on the seat, but that was the least of my concerns. I had beaten my grandparents to the cabin, and that made it worth the wait. I hobbled over to the cabin door and went to pull it open… but to my horror, the door was padlocked shut. Of course it’s locked! Did I really expect my grandparents to leave their cabin unlocked for any would-be thief to break into while they were hours away? Without moving, I did a quick search of the surrounding area, but if they had a spare key, I didn’t see it. I slid the welcome mat away from the door with my foot, but the only things under it were dirt and worms. I shuddered at the sight, which was all my body needed to expel a huge spurt of pee from my bladder. I was bent at the knees, so the pee dripped back and wet the underside of my butt. The warmth made me want to lose control, but I fought the urge to let go and regained my composure. I paced the clearing that the cabin was located in for a moment, trying desperately to think of something to do to relieve myself. On one side of the cabin was the dirt road that I had come down. It was mostly empty, but I didn’t want to risk it. On the other side of the cabin was a lake, and on every side of the lake were other cabins. I couldn’t pee there either. There wasn’t a single piece of hidden land in the entire place! And all the time, I ran the risk of my grandparents arriving just in time to see me lose control like a child. I looked around one last time. Behind me was outhouse I hadn’t noticed before. I groaned. Disgusting, I thought, but it’s my last shot. I could only hope that it was real and not just for looks like so many of the things at the cabin. I shuffled desperately over to it. It wasn’t padlocked, although there was a place where it could be. I turned the latch, but to my horror, it didn’t line up. The door had warped somehow, and the latch wouldn’t come undone. I danced on the spot, desperately trying to hold back the flood as I fiddled with the mechanism, but I knew it was too late. In one last ditch effort, I crouched low to the ground, still too embarrassed to pull my pants down but hoping to keep them as dry as possible. The pee came splashing out of me with no hesitation, soaking the front of my pants and parts of my butt, but thankfully not touching my legs. The urine hit the ground and was immediately soaked up by the dry, thirsty soil, but, eventually, it became too much even for that, and began to puddle at my feet. When my bladder was finally empty, I stood up, grimacing at the drips of urine still making their way down my legs. I took in the damage with a sigh before returning to my car and retrieving my bag. Finding somewhere I hoped nobody would see me, I changed out of my ruined jeans and into a torn pair as quickly as I could. My grandparents didn’t arrive for nearly an hour, and I passed the time trying to get the urine smell out of my jeans by dunking them in the lake, then leaving them out to dry on the roof of my car. When my grandparents finally pulled in the driveway, I lied about the wet jeans, saying I had gone out to the dock to get a good look at the water and fallen in, then headed straight for the bathroom, eager for the tender (if slightly creepy) embrace of the shower-curtain. ... That's my story! I really hope you liked it, but if you didn't, you're still welcome to leave any constructive criticism in the comments. I added a picture of the door-latch because, if you couldn't tell, I didn't really know how to describe it... but, anyway, thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day!