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Found 11 results

  1. This experience is going to be pretty short because there wasn’t a huge build up of desperation before hand seeing as I was sleeping. That being said I hope you all enjoy it anyway. As always every story I’ve posted thus far have been from my real life experience. If I ever end up writing a work of fiction I’ll be sure to add a fiction disclaimer. While this was a few years ago I was definitely still an adult at the time (probably 20 years old) ______________________________ I’d really like to chalk this up to having an odd or stressful day or even something out of the ordinary happening but I can’t. The day before had gone on like any other day, nothing was out of the ordinary. I had gotten up, had an easy morning, went into work around noon and left at maybe 9pm that evening. When I got home 45 minuets later I didn’t do anything differently. I stripped out of my work clothes, put on some comfy pajamas (a T-shirt and panties), relaxed for a while, had some dinner & water, and got ready for bed around midnight. All of those things add up to an uneventful, boring work day. What’s not boring, however, are my dreams. My dreams typically consist of something like ‘a flying neon purple tiger is walking on top of buildings made out of violins and I have to save the Pope from evil talking vacuum cleaners who are trying to take over the world.’ Those are the kinds of dreams I have, but I always have them. When I went to bed that night I turned out all the lights (save for a hallway night light, I don’t like the dark), flicked on my ceiling fan, plugged my phone in, got under my covers, and started to drift off. I soon fell sound asleep and my dreaming began. I only remember parts of my dream but I know I was in a pretty fancy museum or antique shop of sorts and I was talking to someone, perhaps an employee, who I didn’t know at all and she absolutely would not shut up. I really didn’t want to be talking to this person because in my dream I was trying to get to the bathroom and I couldn’t duck out of the conversation politely. She was wearing this historical costume gown like Marie Antoinette style and shuffling along after me as I walked around. I was going from display to display and getting more and more annoyed because she kept following me. Finally, I ended up in front of a painting and she ran off to join a parade of other people dressed in historical gowns that all looked extremely beautiful. Briefly I began to feel left out and cursed myself for not dressing up for the museum gown parade. At this point I had held it so long trying to get away from this dream woman I was absolutely shaking with the need to pee. I looked around desperately and eureka! I spotted a single restroom across the hall and sighed in relief. At the thought of relieving myself my bladder pulsed and twitched and I almost lost control but held my crotch just in time. Getting control of my need wasn’t easy but I straightened up and looked around to make sure the coast was clear. Not a person in sight, perfect. This was my chance, I was finally alone and I can head to the bathroom. I power walked, almost jogged, down the main hall past beautiful statues, paintings, and fine jewelry on display. I quickly made it to the bathroom and opened the door without bothering to knock first but it ended up being empty anyway. I turned to lock the door behind me with a smile on my face because I knew I had made it just fine. I lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties, and began to pee....ahh so much better.. Shit. My eyes snapped open at the feel of wetness around me and my body automatically stopped the stream. Wait, was that real or was that all in my dream? I sleepily and timidly lifted my blanket to clearly reveal I had absolutely wet the bed. My panties were soaked, my sheets were soaked beneath me, my blanket was damp, the hem of my shirt was a bit damp as well. My heart was pounding from being so abruptly startled out of a dream and I squinted over at my alarm clock, the red letters reading 3:30am, great. And I sill had to pee pretty badly because apparently I had emptied only half my bladder. I knew I couldn’t keep my stream stopped for too long so I jumped out of bed to run to the bathroom across the hall. The ceiling fan making me shiver from the wetness around me. I practically kicked open the door and yanked my wet panties down to the floor where they made a damp fabric sound on the ice cold tile. I didn’t even sit down all the way when my body gave out and continued my stream. I audibly sighed, it felt so good. All the built up pressure finally leaving me. It felt like my bladder was empting itself forever but of course it ended up stopping eventually. “Time to see the damage I did” I thought as I stood back up. I automatically pulled up my underwear without even thinking and by now they were FREEZING. I shivered again at the feeling. I glanced up in front of me at the full length bathroom mirror and pouted at what I saw. Me standing there with hard nipples poking through my shirt from the cold and totally soaked pink lacy cotton panties. I decided to leave them on while I washed my hands and checked on my sheets. I got back to my bedroom, flipped on the light switch and walked over to my bed. Fuck. The puddle was bigger than I thought it would be and it had spread out considerably. My blanket wasn’t too bad but definitely had gotten wet. I quickly stripped my sheets and walked downstairs. The wetness from my lower half was rubbing me the wrong way, but it felt exhilarating being out in the open totally wet with no way to hide myself. Laundry was started and I jogged back up to my upstairs bathroom with the intention of jumping in the shower but I decided to hold off. While this wetting was totally unplanned I still prefer punishments to come after accidents. So I sat in my bathtub with my freezing cold soaked lacy panties and shamefully did kegel exercises for the entire length of my laundry cycle. Thankfully I was alone in the house and I didn’t have to sneak my bed wetting sheets past anyone but I still felt utterly humiliated. I mean, I’m an adult not a little girl who has to wear pull-ups to bed. I should be able to control my bladder, not keep having accidents. Oh well, at least I get to share this experience with you guys. :-)
  2. This happened to me just last week. I was busting my ass all day at work and never got the chance to run to the bathroom, the ENTIRE day. I had a full days bladder and I hadn't really noticed how badly I needed to go because I was so distracted. Anyway, I finished my shift around 5pm and was about to head home, but I realized my car was absolutely dead out of gas - like I was hardly making it to the station down the road. I'm one of those lazy people who waits until the last second to do a lot of things so this was a regular occurrence for me. The need to pee was getting stronger once I was sitting by myself and not super busy and distracted but I still ignored it (big mistake). I really had to stop and get gas and I was confident that I could just be quick about it and jump back in my car to go home. So I get to the pump down the street and there's already two other cars there. I pulled up to the pump facing the road as my car was drastically flashing the "Low Fuel" sign at me. Trying to be quick I began to fumble about my car in search of what I needed. I grabbed my card to pay at the pump (thank god I didn't go inside) and I hopped out of my tiny car onto the pavement. Gasoline fumes assaulted my nose and the sound of cars whizzing by filled my ears. As soon as I stood up I realized I would be doing the potty dance for the next few minutes that I'd be out of the vehicle. Trying to power through the experience, I jammed my card into the machine and grabbed the gas pump. As I inserted the nozzle into my car the need to pee was getting unbearable. I tried to be subtle about my desperation because there were other people around me and I was already facing a busy road. "Halfway there" I thought to myself as I looked at the rising numbers "I can do this" I stopped dancing for just a moment to look at the pump to see my progress and I felt a spurt of wetness dampen my panties. I quickly tried to stop the stream but that little spurt was all my body needed to let the flood gates open. It started slow but quickly got out of hand. I stood there next to my car, frozen like a statue as my panties drenched and overflowed into my dress-trousers. I felt a stream of wetness run down the back of my thighs. Two streams down the front of each pant leg. And a stream at the source, my crotch, easily passing through the fabric and directly hitting the pavement with a little tinkling "splash" sound. I looked down in heated embarrassment as I saw massive wet spots forming and a puddle on the ground where I had been standing. My bladder finally emptied itself without any consideration for me. The streams slowed down and finally came to a stop with a few moments of dripping. Drip. I literally couldn't move I was so humiliated. Drip. Oh god how Is this possible? Drip. Shit, did anyone see me? *a final little stream came out of fear, hitting the puddle beneath me rather loudly* I looked up and saw a guy next to me getting out of his SUV at that moment. Another guy at the next pump over glancing in my direction. I ripped the nozzle out of my car and slammed it back into the fuel pump. My only goal was to get out of public and away from wondering eyes as soon as possible. I was too scared to even look at the stopped cars on the road as I jumped into my vehicle as quickly as I could and started to drive home. I sat for a thirty minute drive with soaked trousers and panties in humiliation and shame, thinking about all of the people who could have seen me. Hoping that there isn't some security footage of the incident but I can't help but wonder if there is... A lesson learned, always make time for the little things or they will make time for themselves...
  3. Thorn177

    Andi's Secret

    I wrote this a while ago as the idea came into my head, and have tweaked it a little bit since. There is, I think, the possibility for a continuation, but it depends on inspiration, motivation, and whether anyone would even be interested in reading more. Read the tags for content warnings, and enjoy! Andi’s hand shook as he struggled with his keys. He stood walking in place, jaw clenched, and a small whimper of frustration escaped him before he managed to get the key in the lock of his front door. Once inside he threw down his bag, and left a trail of scarf, jacket, and boots as he raced towards the bathroom. He pulled the door shut on reflex even though he now lived alone. He hesitated, glancing at the toilet. He needed to go so badly he felt like he would burst, but after a brief moment’s consideration he stripped down to his boxer-briefs and turned towards the shower. Shifting his weight back and forth between his feet he wondered if he should take them off or not. In the end he left them on, and stepped into the shower. He stood there for a good while, occasionally moaning, whimpering and swearing, still shifting back and forth, rocking on the balls of his feet. He stuck a hand in between his legs and grabbed himself. He could feel that he was hard, but of course he was. ‘Shit,’ he murmured. ‘Shit, shit, fuck . . .’ He felt the pressure building, until he couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and he sobbed as he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and his urine began to flow down his legs, through his pants, splashing onto the tiles beneath his feet. ‘No! No . . .’ He sank to his knees, panting and sobbing, feeling the warm pee underneath him. He touched the front of his boxers, rubbed himself through the fabric, and a final spurt of urine soaked his hand. He grabbed one of his nipples between the fingers of his other hand, pinching, and kept stroking his sex until his sobs turned to groans of pleasure and he finally came. Sitting there, in a puddle of his own piss, he didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to take his pants off, even though they were quickly becoming cold and uncomfortable. In the end, he did anyway. Andi had two secrets. One was this, his most shameful kink. That he liked to hold his pee in until he wet himself. That he got off on it. The other was that he was only a few months a ‘real’ boy. He’d been on T for a little over half a year. His voice had dropped. He had gotten hairier, his skin had changed, as had his body fat ratio. He had always been quite flat chested, though what little tits he had still bothered him, as did what was, or wasn’t, between his legs. He did have a dick, the clitoris having grown significantly. It was about an inch long now, about an inch and a half and much thicker while erect. He was proud of his dick. It couldn’t penetrate anyone, but then he had always preferred bottoming anyway. Still, he hated to think about it, to look at it. His vulva. He’d hoped his dick would grow bigger than this. It still might, of course, but a lot of the guys he’d spoken to said theirs grew most in the first six months on testosterone. Whether or not he’d have surgery at some point he hadn’t quite decided, but he really wanted to. Top surgery was a given, and he was already on a waiting list. Andi hadn’t had sex in a long time. Not since he started trying to pass. Well, not until recently, that is. Not until Ronan. Ronan, who had been his best friend for a long time, and who somehow took everything in stride. When they had first met, online, Andi’s transition had been in its infancy. He had only just started to accept that he was trans, and the first thing he had done was try to be a boy online. Ronan was the sort of person who inspired trust, so eventually Andi had told him everything. He had been completely cool with it. He hadn’t asked any weird or invasive questions. He had simply listened, and when Andi had asked if he was freaked out, he had written: Why? You’re the same person now that you were five minutes ago. You’re my friend. And I want you to be happy. Since that moment, Andi had shared his fears, his body dysphoria, what his doctors and therapists told him, and his hopes for the future with Ronan. And then, at some point, his fantasies and his kinks, and that was when their relationship had changed. They had talked about all of it, and then explored it in detail, first with a series of phone calls and Skype sessions, and then finally, a few weeks ago, in person. The fact that Ronan, who was gay, wanted to be with Andi almost served to make him feel more like a real man than the hormones could. But this last kink even Ronan didn’t know about, and he never ever would. If he ever found out . . . Andi was sure even Ronan couldn’t accept something like that. Who would? It was, objectively speaking, gross. Urine was not a natural part of sex. Of course, it wasn’t the urine itself that turned him on. It was the desperation, and the act of wetting himself. The shame of it. Shame and humiliation were already present in his and Ronan’s play. When they were together, Ronan had tied Andi up, spanked him, made him choke on his dick, and Andi had loved every second of it. The memory was enough to make him blush. Ronan was naturally dominating, and being submissive with him felt wonderfully freeding. This, though, this was different. Lately, Andi’s wetting fantasies had taken on a different form. He imagined not doing it alone. He imagined Ronan telling him when he could and couldn’t pee—much the same way he sometimes forbade him from touching himself without permission—refusing him access to the toilet until he was a shivering, desperate mess. He pictured Ronan making him wet himself on command, and sometimes he imagined Ronan fucking him while he was holding, fucking his arse until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and pissed. Then he would get disciplined with a spanking. He could never, ever tell Ronan what he was imagining. The whole thing had started back when his transition was in its infancy, pre-T. Back when he had begun trying to pass. At the time he had felt very uncomfortable with public bathrooms. He didn’t want to use the ladies’ room because he wasn’t a woman, but he felt like if he used the men’s room they would see straight through him. They would call his bluff, they wouldn’t see him as a real man. So whenever he was away from home, he refused to use the toilet. One evening he had been out for a drink with some good friends who called him Andi instead of Anna, and used the correct pronouns, and it had been a really good time. He had rather a lot of beer. He was quite used to holding his pee in by then, and could usually handle it, but it got a lot more difficult when he was drunk, and on his way home at two in the morning, it happened. He wet himself. It was dark, but there were some people about. Andi froze, completely mortified, hoping to God that no one would notice. It didn’t seem like anyone did, but he had never felt more embarrassed or terrible about himself. As soon as he could shut off the flow, which was easier said than done, he ran the rest of the way home and locked himself in the bathroom, sobbing. Not seeing any point in holding it in anymore, he let go and finished wetting himself on the bathroom floor. After pulling off his sopping wet jeans, he got in the shower and washed. He got off twice, went to bed, and got off again. The next morning he woke up wanting to do it all again. Thinking about that night (what he had since come to think of as his second awakening, the first having been when he accepted his true gender) still made him hard. Andi turned on the shower, washing the urine from his legs and the floor. He made the water as hot as he could take, and while he stood under it, began to stroke himself. He pictured Ronan while he did, and tentatively reached back, pushing a wet finger inside his arse. He moaned loudly, and a little bit of leftover pee trickled out. His fingers didn’t really feel like enough, though, and he stepped out of the shower and over to the bathroom cabinet. He had left his dildo there the last time he had got off. He found it along with some lube, and after slicking it up and stretching his hole a bit, got back in the shower and began to pump his arse with it. He moaned loudly, stroking his cock, and peed a bit more. It didn’t take him long to come. Andi cleaned himself up and got out of the shower. After towelling himself off he reached for his phone to check his messages, and the moment he touched it, it rang. Ronan’s picture filled the screen, and Andi instantly blushed. He only let it ring twice before answering. ‘Hi,’ he said, his voice a bit breathless. ‘Well, hello there, boy,’ said Ronan’s deep, silky voice. ‘You sound exactly the way I like you best,’ he purred. ‘Have you been naughty?’ Andi smiled. ‘Maybe . . .’ ‘Tell me,’ Ronan demanded. His tone of voice hadn’t changed, but it was a command nonetheless, and Andi felt a tugging sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch. He may not like his XX-chromosome parts all that much, but they did give him the advantage (or disadvantage) of not being easily spent, and he immediately reached down to touch himself again, before stopping himself. ‘I just got out of the shower,’ he said. ‘I may have . . . Gotten off a few times.’ Ronan tutted. ‘Without me? I’m disappointed in you, Andi.’ ‘Guess you’ll have to punish me,’ said Andi quickly. Ronan chuckled softly. ‘If you’re so eager for punishment, boy, perhaps I should prepare some less pleasurable discipline. Silent contemplation, say.’ Andi whimpered involuntarily. ‘No? Well, I guess I do owe you a bit of a spanking. Too bad I can’t do it right now.’ Ronan sighed. ‘What are you doing?’ Andi asked. ‘Right now I’m stroking my cock, thinking of you all naked and wet in the shower.’ Andi let his hand wander down to his own dick and said, ‘Me too.’ ‘Uh-uh. Did I tell you you were allowed to touch yourself?’ Ronan asked, and Andi stopped immediately, but not before whining softly. ‘What’s that, boy? Are you complaining?’ ’N—no,’ Andi stammered. ‘Of course not.’ ‘Good. You can touch yourself when I tell you to.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Andi, obediently. ‘What were you doing before?’ Ronan asked him. Andi’s heart hammered in his chest. ‘Nothing, really. I was just in the shower, and then I . . . Touched myself.’ ‘How many times did you come?’ ‘Three . . . I think.’ ‘My naughty little Andi,’ said Ronan. ‘Whatever shall I do with you? It’s like you want to be punished.’ Andi swallowed, but said nothing. ‘Do you, boy? Do you want me to spank your arse raw?’ Andi moaned softly. ‘Tell me.’ Andi drew a breath, and it came out again ragged. When he spoke his voice was uneven. ‘If you want to. I’ve . . . I’ve been disobedient. I need discipline. Need to be . . . To be shamed.’ ‘You want me to shame you? To embarrass you?’ Ronan asked. Andi remained silent. His legs felt shaky. He was so turned on he could barely breathe, and he needed to pee again, too. ‘Tell me what would embarrass you most of all. What could I make you do that would be a true punishment?’ Andi spoke without thinking, without considering the consequences. It was a reflex, to answer Ronan truthfully. He couldn’t lie to him. ‘Make me piss myself.’ He covered his mouth, mortified. He had said it. What would happen now? ‘Oh?’ came Ronan’s voice. ‘Why, that’s new. What manner of kink is this?’ Andi bit his lip. ‘It’s . . . It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.’ ‘No, no, no,’ Ronan purred. ‘None of that, boy. Tell me.’ Swallowing a couple of times, Andi considered his words carefully before speaking. ‘Sometimes I . . . I like to hold it until I’m fit to burst. Getting all desperate like that . . . It, er . . . It really turns me on.’ His face felt hot, and he was stammering quite a bit. At the same time he felt more aroused than ever. Embarrassing himself like this, telling Ronan his most secret of secrets, he could almost come without even touching himself. ‘Sometimes I . . . I hold it until I wet myself, and then I get off.’ The last bit nearly turned into word salad, but Ronan seemed to catch it all the same. ‘Then I feel embarrassed, and ashamed . . .’ ‘Mmm . . . Well, I do like you desperate. I could forbid you from going to the toilet. And then, if you do wet yourself, I’d have to discipline you.’ ‘Oh God,’ Andi whimpered. ‘Please . . .’ ‘Please what?’ ‘Please, sir, may I come?’ ‘Hm, not sure you’ve earned it yet. You’ve been holding back on me, after all. Not telling me about this . . . How long have you been doing it?’ Andi swallowed. ‘Since . . . since before I started on T. Back when I started trying to pass.’ ‘And here I thought you had told me all about your fantasies, and it turns out you’ve got this squirrelled away. I’m disappointed in you, Andi.’ There was amusement in Ronan’s stern voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ Andi mumbled. ‘I . . . It was embarrassing. I thought maybe . . . maybe you wouldn’t like me anymore, if I told you. That you wouldn’t want to . . .’ ‘That I wouldn’t want to fuck you anymore?’ Ronan chuckled. ‘You’re an idiot, my little Andi. The thought of you all desperate like that, of you pissing yourself and feeling mortified about it . . . Mmm, that really turns me on.’ His voice sounded a little breathless. Andi licked his lips. ‘Ronan . . . Sir . . .’ ‘All right. Since you’ve given me so many fun things to think about, I’ll let you come, boy.’ Andi’s hand immediately went down to his crotch and he began to stroke himself. ‘Fuck . . . I’m so horny right now, I can’t even—I’m gonna—’ ‘So eager. Slow down, boy. That’s it.’ Andi did as he was asked, slowed the movement of his fingers, but he still felt so close. ‘How’s it feel?’ Ronan breathed. ‘Feels good,’ Andi moaned. ‘God . . . Wish you were here, fucking me.’ The sound Ronan made was more like a growl than anything else. ‘So do I, boy. So do I. But until I am, this will have to do.’ ‘Mhm . . .’ Andi felt breathless. ‘Fuck . . . Ronan, please . . .’ ‘Go on then. You can come.’ Andi picked up the pace. His thighs quivered, and he could barely remain standing, unable to support himself with his other hand since he was on the phone. ‘Oh, fuck! Ah!’ He came, but kept stroking, and not long after he came again. He dropped to his knees, hand still working. ‘Fuck, you sound so good, Andi. Keep this up, I’m gonna come, too. Think you’ve got another one in you?’ ‘Yeah.’ Andi kept going, eyes slipping shut. ‘I can . . . fuck! Shit . . . I need to . . .’ He hesitated, face feeling hot. ‘I need to pee.’ ‘I see. Tell you what. When you come, you can pee.’ ‘Mmh . . . Yes, sir.’ Andi stroked himself faster, getting closer and closer. ‘Ronan . . . Ronan, I’m gonna come again!’ ‘Mm, go ahead. Let me hear you. I’m so close, I’m gonna come, too. Wish I could come in your mouth. All over your face.’ That was all it took, and Andi gave a loud shout as he came a third time. He was forced to stop touching himself, as he was too sensitive to continue, and then he pissed again, letting out a moan of relief. On the other end of the line, he heard Ronan swear, and groan, voice gaining in pitch as he finally came. Andi loved listening to Ronan coming. He loved listening to Ronan, period. ‘How are you feeling?’ asked Ronan softly. ‘Good. I feel . . .’ Andi gave a breathless laugh. ‘I feel good. Thanks. Fuck . . .’ Ronan laughed as well. ‘You always sound so good, boy. Can’t wait to see you again.’ ‘You’re still coming next weekend, right?’ ‘Of course I am. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Andi. You won’t be able to walk.’ Andi whimpered. If he gave himself a few minutes, he’d be ready for another three or four orgasms, he was sure of it. His libido had already been high pre-T. Testosterone did not serve to soften it. Still, best not push his luck. As much as he loved and accepted Ronan’s discipline, there could be too much of a good thing. He cleared his throat. ‘Can’t wait.’ ‘I don’t want you to touch yourself until then, boy. Is that clear?’ Andi gave another soft whimper. ‘Yes . . . yes, sir.’ ‘Good boy. I’ll see you soon enough.’ ‘Yeah. See ya. Thank you, sir.’ They hung up, and Andi stepped back into the shower for another rinse.
  4. Thorn177

    Omorashi!!! on Ice

    Just a little scene I just wrote for fun. Don't know if there are any Yuuri!!! on Ice fans around here, but have a cute little Yuuri/Victor omo ficlet anyway. It had not gone well. And little wonder, given the fact that the moment he stepped out on the ice, Yuuri discovered that he really, really had to pee. How are you supposed to do a quadruple toe loop when you’re desperate for the toilet? Let alone a salchow or flip. Yuuri fumbled with his skates the moment he got off the ice, hands shaking. The kiss and cry was a no go. He had to run right now if he was going to make it in time. ‘Yuuri?’ Victor’s voice called, but he didn’t have time to listen. He ran. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ The nearest bathroom wasn’t far, but he had to stop twice along the way to cross his legs and grab himself through his costume. Luckily, no one was watching. He made it inside, locked the door, began to fumble with his costume, and . . . ‘No! Shit . . .’ He had no way of stopping it, and he moaned pathetically as his pee came out, soaking his costume. Yuuri had never felt so ashamed in his life. Here he was, a grown-ass skating champion, pissing himself because he failed to make it to the bathroom on time. Skating had probably made it more difficult to hold it. He slid to the floor and sobbed. There came a knock on the door. ‘Yuuri?’ Victor’s voice was filled with concern. ‘Yuuri, are you okay?’ ‘I . . . I’m fine!’ Yuuri knew he didn’t sound especially convincing as his voice cracked. ‘Just . . . go away!’ ‘Are you sick?’ ‘Y—no, I’m . . . yes, I’m . . .’ Shit. ‘Let me in, Yuuri.’ ‘No. Just go away.’ ‘Are you upset because it didn’t go well?’ Yuuri almost laughed. If only Victor knew. ‘No. Yes. Just . . . please.’ It came out as barely a whisper. ‘Please just go.’ He heard Victor sigh. ‘No. I refuse to go when you’re in there by yourself feeling like crap. Just let me in so I can help you. Okay? If you won’t let me in as your coach, at least let me in as your boyfriend.’ Yuuri closed his eyes. It was hard to argue with Victor when he sounded like that, so earnest and sincere and loving. Finally, he stood on shaky legs and unlocked the door. It opened at once, and Victor stepped inside, closing and locking it behind him. ‘Yuuri, what—?’ He frowned. Looked at Yuuri and then down on the floor where a puddle had formed. ‘Oh dear.’ Yuuri couldn’t look at him. ‘I’m gross,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘You had to pee that badly? That’s why it went so poorly out there?’ ‘. . . yes.’ Yuuri felt tears sting his eyes. ‘I ruined the costume, too . . .’ Victor shook his head. ‘It can be dry-cleaned.’ He sighed. ‘Okay, I’ll go get you some dry clothes. I’ll be right back.’ Yuuri locked the door behind Victor and, for lack of anything better to do, sat down on the toilet and hugged himself. What now? Was Victor disgusted with him? He should be. Yuuri felt mortified, but he knew that Victor would have had to see it in the end regardless, or he would have been stuck in this bathroom forever. A few minutes later, there was another knock. ‘Yuuri? It’s me.’ Yuuri unlocked the door again, and Victor entered, locking the door again behind him. He carried a bag, and set it down away from the puddle on the floor. ‘Sorry,’ Yuuri muttered. ‘I should clean that up.’ ‘It’s okay,’ said Victor. ‘I’ll clean it. You just get changed. I brought a towel, so you can clean up a little.’ Yuuri started to undress. Even though he and Victor were frequently naked together, he still turned his back. He pulled off the sopping wet leotard, swallowing back a sob. It was just so embarrassing. He turned to the sink, soaking a wad of paper towels so he could clean his crotch and legs. He noticed to his chagrin that the touch made him half hard, in spite of everything. Yuuri dried himself with the towel. He heard Victor go up to the sink to rinse something and glanced sideways. He’d brought a rag, which was now soaked in urine. ‘Fuck,’ Yuuri mumbled, pulling on clean underwear. ‘This sucks . . .’ ‘Don’t worry about it, lyubimiy. It happens.’ ‘Not to skating champions in their twenties . . .’ He felt a hand on his shoulder. ‘Hey.’ Yuuri turned his head to meet Victor’s gaze. His expression was kind. ‘I said it’s okay. It doesn’t matter.’ He pulled at Yuuri’s shoulder so he would turne to face him, and put his arms around him, hugging him close. ‘I love you no matter how many times you wet yourself.’ Yuuri laughed in spite of himself, and put his arms around Victor in turn, burying his face in his shoulder. ‘I love you too.’ They stood like that for a moment. Then Victor uttered a puzzled, ‘hm’, and stepped back, looking pointedly down at Yuuri’s crotch. ‘What’s this, then?’ Yuuri quickly turned around again, pulling a pair of jeans out of the bag. ’N-nothing.’ ‘Nothing? Cause I felt that.’ ‘You . . . you were just really close. I . . .’ ‘You don’t get hard every time I hug you, Yuuri.’ ‘Does it matter? This isn’t the time.’ Victor’s arms encircled him from behind, his hand sliding down his bare stomach towards the waistband of his boxer-briefs. ‘It’s kind of hot, though. Is it cause you . . . felt embarrassed? Cause I know embarrassment can sometimes make me feel kind of excited.’ ‘It’s not! I’m not . . .’ But Yuuri couldn’t lie to Victor, no matter how much he wanted to, and he sighed. ‘Yeah. That’s probably it.’ ‘Then let me help you.’ Victor’s hand disappeared into Yuuri’s underwear, and Yuuri hissed as he wrapped his hand around his cock, making him fully hard. ‘Mm, that’s it, my love. Doesn’t that feel better?’ Yuuri’s head drooped forward and he nodded. ‘Yeah.’ Victor stroked him slowly with nimble fingers, and then he pulled down Yuuri’s underwear again. ‘Won’t do to stain these, too,’ he murmured and placed a soft kiss just behind Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri groaned. ‘Mm, there’s a good boy.’ Victor stroked faster, and Yuuri moaned. ‘That’s it.’ Yuuri’s breathing came in short, ragged bursts. ‘I have to pee again,’ he gasped without thinking, and Victor chuckled softly in his ear. Victor manoeuvred Yuuri over towards the toilet and lifted the lid and seat with his free hand. ‘Come for me first?’ It was all the encouragement Yuuri needed, because he was already pretty close, and he came with a soft whimper, cum shooting into the toiletbowl. Victor kept his hand on his dick, and a moment later Yuuri peed again. ‘There you go.’ Victor kissed the back of his head. ‘You’ve been very good for me, Yuuri.’ He pulled Yuuri’s underwear back on and turned him around again so he could kiss him. Yuuri sighed into the kiss, his cheeks hot with embarrassment. ‘Did that feel good?’ asked Victor, pulling back to look into Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri only nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and leaned forward to kiss Victor again, because that was all he wanted. ‘You stay here and get dressed,’ said Victor after a couple of minutes of this. ‘I told them you were ill, so I’ll just go give the press some platitudes, and we’ll head back to the hotel. Yes?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Maybe we can have some more fun when we get there, hm? Cause I’m feeling pretty excited now, too.’ Victor winked, and then he left the bathroom. Yuuri locked the door, sighed, and put on his clothes. Having some fun in their hotel room didn’t sound like a half bad idea, and he adjusted his junk. Maybe he should do this again some time.
  5. honkytonklagoon

    The Shame Game

    We all grew up believing that having an accident is about the most shameful and humiliating thing that could happen to a person. Does anyone have accidents now because the humiliation is a turn on?
  6. Howdy, My back story has a very rough patch, involving a sexual assault at the age of 10. The story is a bit too intense for this site, but one thing that I can admit was that during the assault, I'd wet myself in fear. I ran home and it was very obvious that I'd had an accident. Before then, I'd had a rather pleasant intentional wetting in the (near) privacy of my home. I feel that had the assault not happened, I might have had a more stable sexual awakening. Due to the assault, I repressed all of my sexual feelings. I struggled with PTSD and the aftermath of my parents not knowing how to deal with a daughter who they said was 'possessed.' I did do intentional wettings several times in my adult years, but they felt more about control than a sexual nature. I am working to come to terms with the things that I feel arouse me sexually, which includes observing videos of fear wetting. I feel ashamed of being aroused by videos (from films and anime) of people experiencing trauma great enough to lose control. When I wet now, there is still shame from that assault. Recently, I've been having unpleasant stress incontinence spurts due to allergies and a nagging cough. I am ashamed and I am terrified that I will be in public and lose control. Anyone that has wet in fear, are you attracted to fear wetting videos? Does anyone have shame that dampens the sexual pleasure that you feel when wetting? How do you deal with shame or the fear of the accidental loss of control in public? How have you gotten past the embarrassment of a previous public accident? Thanks for reading and any replies! -hoimi #~_~#
  7. AEMILIVS

    malefemale JR HIGH BAND

    It was marching band practice. It was November and cold. I really really had to go. We were practicing for a contest the next Saturday. We just couldn't get our routine right. We'd play it right, but mess up marching; or, we'd march perfectly and screw up our playing. The director would not let us go. It was late afternoon -- three o'clock, four o'clock, fine o'clock -- and we were still at it. I was absolutely hurting. I was past worrying about teetering my pants; now I was worried about injuring my bladder or kidneys. Thankfully, it was dark by then and the field light back then weren't that bright. So I decided to just let go. Funny thing, it was nearly impossible to start in my pants. I guess potty training had made its mark. Finally, I gave up and just kept marching. That's when I teeteed. Instantly my crotch and inner thighs grew warm. I couldn't believe it: It actually felt good. It ran down my legs and filled my shoes and just kept coming. The relief was ecstatic. Then I realized that my uniform pants were steaming in the cold air, and people were snickering and pointing. My face burned with embarrassment. We marched another half hour. My crotch and legs were absolutely red raw. Funny thing is, despite the embarrassment, I liked it; then next week I did it again, though with more control, and a little at a time. I probably teeteed that band uniform a dozen times that year. Thankfully the pants were black polyester.
  8. Hey, guys. I've been in to omo for as long as I can remember but I've always had trouble accepting this fetish as a part of me. When I think about it or watch it, I always feel ashamed over myself or it just feels wrong. I know the fetish isn't going anywhere but do you guys have any tips on how to accept it and live with it?? Thanks
  9. File Name: Wetting the bed at friend's house File Submitter: Canela File Submitted: 27 Mar 2015 File Category: Pajama Wetting A girl wet the bed and must cope with the shame Click here to download this file
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    A girl wet the bed and must cope with the shame

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  11. Hi, this will be a short story about a wetting experience. But the incident didn't take long, it was over in maybe five minutes. It happened yesterday. I was walking along a lane in a small village back to the parking lot where I'd parked my Beetle. It was very warm and sunny and I'd had a lot of water to slake my thirst. I'd been pretty desperate for quite a time and realized that I should pee before I sat in my car and drove home. I seemed to be alone on the lane, so I stopped abreast of an arbour. Hidden among the leaves a bird chirped. I listened to its song, and became so absorbed by its beauty, that I didn't at once notice that I've started to wee in my panties. But feeling my warm pee running down my thighs made me aware of what was going on. I parted my legs and hitched up my skirt to keep it away from becoming wet. I looked down. I've always been fascinated by watching myself wetting my panties like a little child. The pee stream increased and thrust its way through my panties and splashed down onto the pavement. I put a hand between my thighs and felt the hot wee running between my fingers. I felt so horny and couldn't resist to rub my pussy. I sqeezed the wet, pink cotton fabric in between my pussy lips. Then I heard: "Oh!" I looked up. On a bench in the shadowy arbour sat a girl. Shit, she'd seen me all the time! I tried hard to stop peeing, but it just went on flowing like it would never stop. I pressed my hand against my pussy, but it didn't help. I looked at the girl. I knew I was blushing like hell. She was staring at me with wide open eyes. She seemed totally fascinated. She was probably younger than me, maybe around 15-16. I thought I should say something. "I'm sorry, I can't stop... I'm trying but..." I didn't know what to say more. And the girl didn't say anything. I made an effort to press harder on my mimsy and even rub a little. Which I shouldn't have done. In seconds I got a strong orgasm. My whole body shivered and I couldn't help moaning. It felt so wonderful! But that feeling soon became mixed with a strong feeling of shame. "P...pl...please forgive me! I..." I stopped. What could I say? I turned and walked away. Fast, very fast. Pee still running down my legs and, to my further more shame, almost overwhelmed with an increasing arousal causing additional orgasms while still walking. Before I started to drive home, I had to set my mimsy (and my mind) to ease. In which way I did that...? Well, guess!