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These two girls are so cute ! Keep going... i love this.

i certainly understand the reluctance to repeat oneself, but really, every story since the beginning of time

is pretty much variation on a very few simple themes anyhow. There's a joke about a composer, someone asks him

"So, what are you working on now?" The composer replies, "An opera."

"Oh, really? What is it about?"

"The usual thing... a tenor tries to make love to a soprano, and a baritone tries to stop them." :lol:

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"So it happened when you fell?"

 

"Yes." Ellie blushed. "And maybe a little bit on the way down after."

 

"That's all right," the doctor informed her. He was Aussie and looked like he had just walked out of a reality show about young, attractive surfers. His presence as a resident at a ski resort was a mystery to Ellie, but his attractiveness was not. Ellie didn't know if she was blushing because of the stupid reason she was there or because she was being cared for by this ridiculously hot guy.

 

"This problem is actually quite common in young women," he continued.

 

"Really?" Ellie blushed again.

 

"Yes. Of course, I see it more often in young men. They want to look tough and impress beautiful young women like yourselves"—at this point, Ellie's face turned into a semi-permanent shade of red—"so they go to the toughest, meanest-looking slope and then they fall and break their legs. Trust me, I've never seen anyone look tough fighting tears in an ambulance with multiple fractures." As he was saying this, he was holding her injured ankle tenderly, slowly stroking it, as if that could make her feel better. It did make her feel better, although not because it hurt any less. "But it doesn't look like you've broken anything. We can do an X-Ray if you want to make sure, but I don't think that will be necessary. I'll just advise you to relax and feel it out, and sit out if it hurts too much to go skiing. A holiday isn't worth risking your health over."

 

They had gone to the ER—this resort was in the middle of nowhere, and no one really lived there all year, but due to the frequency of skiing and snowboarding accidents, there was a small emergency room that was operational in the winter season, located in the basement of the new, shiny hotel—because Julie insisted. Ellie felt fine. Her ankle hurt, but she was sure nothing was broken, so she figured there was nothing to do except tough it out. Tomorrow, she would surely be better, and they could ski again as if nothing had happened. She had been able to finish the run down the hill on her own two feet, after all, and that alone indicated that nothing could be seriously wrong. Ellie didn't exactly have the highest pain threshold in the world, and even if she could somehow have supported her modest weight on a broken leg, the pain would surely have been too much. Going to the ER over such a silly little thing would be embarrassing, like she was a child who couldn't cope unless someone blew on her wounds, and so had to seek out a doctor when her mom wasn't present. But Julie had been so concerned about her after Julie's own accident that she'd almost cried when Ellie refused to go, and so she had relented.

 

Ellie had peed herself a little bit when she fell. Thankfully, the doctor didn't get to hear that part of the story. Then she had leaked a bit again in the elevator. When Julie allowed her to go first in the bathroom, she had hobbled in without taking off her snowpants, hoping to hide her accident from her sister. By the time she was undressed, however, she had leaked some more, and as she sat on the toilet, finishing up her pee, she realized she was too far gone: she would need to bathe and change now before facing her sister anyway. She was embarrassed because of her pee accident, and in pain due to her skiing accident, and these factors clouded her mind, and she simply didn't think about her sister's own urgent need. After all, despite the previous day's desperation, and the one accident at the dinner table, Julie was the one who never had to pee. Ellie wasn't used to considering her sister's bathroom needs, since Ellie was the one with the small bladder, and her sister apparently had such a large one that bathroom compromises were never an issue. So she had run a bath, undressed and gotten in, existing in her own world, just trying to luxuriate in the hot water and the clean, urine-free feeling of getting out of her stained clothes and washing up. It wasn't until her sister banged loudly on the door and announced that she was actually peeing that Ellie realized her blunder. She did promise to be quick about it, and she had broken her promise due to inattention. Despite being pushed by her sister, Ellie knew that it was ultimately her decision to let herself be convinced—no one was forcibly pulling her onto the lift and shuttling her onto the highest mountain top with no way down except by skiing. It was her own fault she fell, and she didn't blame her sister for it, and so had not intended to deliberately keep her sister waiting as some sort of petty revenge, although she worried, now, after what happened, whether that was what her sister thought.

 

She had unlocked the door, but it was too late. Her sister was a mess. Julie was sitting in an ocean of urine, if nothing else attesting to the enormous volume she could contain before her bladder burst. Her jeans were wet all over, and even her shirt was stained. She was sobbing so hard that her entire upper body was shaking, and too embarrassed or scared to even look Ellie in the eyes. Julie usually sported a look that, if it didn't kill, had doomed dozens of high school boys to eternal unrequited love. She would look you directly in the eyes and sort of smirk, before looking away as if she were shy, but locking eyes again so quickly that you sensed she wasn't. The effect was electric, almost impossible not to be charmed by, even for Ellie, who had grown up with that look, and yet Julie did it all unconsciously. She'd never kissed a boy and yet she was an unwitting master seductress. But now, she had lost all of that confidence—that supreme certainty of her own value that she had simply because, unlike other, more cynical people, people who had been hurt before, no reason to doubt it had ever occurred to her.

 

Ellie recognized this transformation from Julie's previous accident. It was a shyer, more helpless side of Julie that seemed to come out when she did something she wasn't supposed to do at her age. Now that she thought about it, Ellie thought she had seen glimpses of it at other times, when Julie had said something so particularly childish that even as she said it, she realized how it must sound, or when she had clumsily bumped into something at home as if she were a child first learning to walk. Those times, though, it had gone away in a moment, but Ellie sensed that this was more serious. If she was going to help her sister, she would have to treat her like a child. Yet true to her form, there was something seductive even to this side of Julie. She was so adorably helpless that Ellie just wanted to take care of her.

 

"Oh, Julie," she said. "Did you have an accident?" It was the sort of dumb rhetorical question her mom used to ask her and Julie when they were younger. If she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar before dinner time, or inside with a trail of dirty footprints behind her, or in bed with wet bedsheets, her mom would ask if she had done what she had very clearly done. It was her way of signaling that she was disappointed, but not mad. Everything would be okay. Ellie couldn't remember her mom ever being angry or strict with her, except a couple times when her mom had been drunk, like that time when she had offered them wine. This was the demeanor Ellie adopted to deal with Julie's accident. She sensed that her own little bathroom incident could easily be swept under the rug due to Julie's present condition, and she seized the opportunity.

 

Julie nodded, eyes still directed towards the centre of her puddle.

 

"My ankle still hurts, but if you can manage to walk to the bathtub, I'll take care of you," Ellie said. Her sister slowly lifted her eyes, then rose on unsteady feet, as if the exertion of peeing her pants so completely had exhausted her. She walked the three steps to the bathtub with unusual attention devoted to her toe-tips. "Look at me," Ellie said. Her sister raised her head again to meet her eyes, and in her makeup-smeared face, Ellie saw a look of desperation. It was like her eyes were yelling, Please help me. Please take care of me and tell me everything will be OK. So that was exactly what Ellie did.

 

"Wow, you're soaked! Let me take off your shirt," Ellie said, and had Julie lift her hands above her head while she slid the shirt off, just like her mom used to do when she bathed Ellie when she was still in kindergarten. Next came her bra, and Julie was naked above the waist. "Your pants must be icky. They're so wet we'll need to wash them before we go anyway. Why don't you simply step into the tub with me in your wet pants, and get them cleaned up right away?" Julie had done as she was told, climbing into the jacuzzi with her jeans, panties and socks still on. It wasn't like her garments could absorb much more liquid anyway, but this way, at least her pants wouldn't stink of piss for the rest of the weekend. Ellie didn't share this concern with her sister, though, fearing it would further upset her.

 

"Hey, I know, why don't we turn the bubbles on?" As she did, Julie's eyes lighted up again for the first time since her accident, and she was overtaken by a look of absolute wonder. The bubbles were a magic trick to Julie, and she was spellbound.

 

"Did you hold it too long?" Ellie asked.

 

"Y-yeah." Her sister was blushing again. "I—I thought I could hold it."

 

"Promise me you'll go the next time you feel the urge?"

 

Julie nodded earnestly. "Pinky swear, I'll go," and she even crossed her fingers. Ellie was reminded of her sister's eye-rolling at the gas station when she'd suggested Julie might want to use the bathroom.

 

After the bath, Ellie undressed Julie, hung the wet clothes over the tub to dry, and dressed herself. She then led her sister by the hand to her bag and found a bra, socks, pantyhose, panties and a pretty, flowery summer dress which her sister had brought despite the season. Ellie figured little girls want to feel like princesses. Julie just stood there, still nude, looking at her expectantly, so Ellie started dressing her. If her mom had treated Ellie like a small child after one of her accidents, one of the numerous times she had woken up in a wet and cold bed, it would have felt condescending. She was not a child, she was almost an adult, and that was the way she wanted to be treated. Accidents were childish, inappropriate at her age, and babying her afterwards would only serve to confirm that, while treating her like an adult would reassure her that she wasn't a baby after all. On Julie, however, all this hand-holding and babying apparently had the opposite effect. To her, it was reassuring; being cared for meant she was loved and therefore loveable, valuable, and that was what she craved in her moment of weakness.

 

While dressing her, Ellie started telling old jokes, ones that had ceased to be funny to her years ago. For each joke, Julie's smile widened further, and by the time Ellie was helping her into her dress, Julie was telling her own silly, stupid jokes. That was when Julie had remembered Ellie's injury and become very concerned that she had quite possibly broken every bone in her body, including those in the inner ear and the nose, and it was absolutely necessary for them to go to the ER to get it checked out. When Ellie expressed skepticism, tears began to well in her sister's eyes, and Ellie quickly agreed to go after all.

 

That was where she was now, and the young, attractive doctor was handing her two pills wrapped in plastic. "If the pain gets bad, you can take these. But be careful: they will impair your ability to drive, and the same goes for skiing."

 

That concluded the seance with the doctor, and Ellie jumped down from the examination table to leave. Her sister, heavy winter jacket wrapped over her floral dress, was sitting in a chair. When she got up, Ellie thought she caught a glimpse of something shimmery where she'd sat. When she passed the chair, it was obvious. As soon as the door to the examination room was closed, Ellie grabbed Julie's hand and dragged her into a bathroom.

 

"Julie, honey, I think you need to pee again," Ellie said in her sweetest voice.

 

"Noooooooo?" her sister said, dragging the no out from a firm statement to an uncertain question.

 

Ellie unbuttoned her sister's jacket, and when this prompted no protests, she continued by dragging Julie's dress up and her pantyhose down, exposing a pair of Hello Kitty panties with a wet spot on them. As if startled by this discovery, a small trickle escaped Julie, caught in the pantyhose resting between her knees. "I—um, I didn't realize," she said.

 

"Would you like to do that in a toilet?" Ellie asked.

 

Julie walked over to the toilet, slid down her panties, and started to pee. She peed for a long while; clearly, her bladder had managed to fill again. This time, she was blushing, clearly still in her childish mindspace, but at least she didn't cry. Ellie decided that now would be a good time to start the transition back into adulthood, so she allowed her sister to dress herself again and wash her hands without saying anything—not making a big deal of it, the way Ellie wanted to be treated if she had an accident. Then she grabbed her sister's hand and they walked together back to their hotel, through the glitzy lobby of the new one. On their way they passed at least one person whom Ellie thought she knew from tv, or maybe from a film.

 

* * *

 

Julie's memory worked by a process of emotional amplification. Perhaps that was why she had such a hard time learning her multiplication tables. There wasn't much emotion to 6×7. Her memory of yesterday went: They had champagne in the bath. Ellie fell and hurt her ankle. Julie peed her pants. Ellie helped her clean up and took care of her. They visited the ER. She fell asleep with her head on Ellie's chest. Everything else, everything that fell short of emotional significance, fell away. These were the organizing principles of her memory: excitement, fear, embarrassment, joy, love. Perhaps that was why her best subjects had always been languages. Writing, to her, was always a challenge, until a teacher told her to write down what she felt, exactly like she would tell a friend about it. Since then, Julie had developed a fluent, extremely verbal style for which her teachers went wild, and which suggested to her that perhaps being a writer was her calling, although it didn't feel exactly right, just falling into a profession, a lifestyle like that.

 

Everything else about the day before was already in a blur, faded like yesterday's multiplication tables washed out on a blackboard. Today, she would write new memories over them, amplify the ones that spiked her emotions, and wash the rest out, and thus, quickly, the details of the day would be gone forever. If someone wanted to commit the perfect crime, Julie would be the perfect witness. She would tell the police all about how scared she was, but she wouldn't be able to tell them anything about either the victim or the perpetrator. Like a child, her world was centered on her own emotions.

 

Some of her memories from this day, now quickly receding: she woke up still resting on her sister, overjoyed with the promise of a new day. Sometime later, Ellie declared that she was in too much pain to go skiing, so the sisters had decided to enjoy their luxury hotel, to pretend they were superstars and enjoy all the comforts of their sweet lodgings. After another bubble bath, they had explored the hotel, and Ellie had told her a scary story about another hotel that supposedly had a haunted floor, a floor inaccessible except by chance—if you took a certain elevator, a small percentage of the time, you would end up on a floor that didn't really exist, between floors, all dark, where a man who dressed in grotesque animal costumes supposedly lived and dispensed his life wisdom to whoever stumbled into his domain. It wasn't this hotel, though, Ellie assured her, but Julie still spent the day worrying whenever they took the elevator.

 

After a fine dinner at the hotel's restaurant, they had gotten dressed up and gone over to the other hotel, because Julie had remembered her sister's promise to get her a kiss from a hot guy. But her hopes were dashed when her sister was carded at the entrance to the hotel's bar. Julie, although probably also too young, had easily charmed her way in by winking at the doorman, but she wouldn't go in without her sister. Instead, they had ended up ordering more wine from room service and drinking it in their room. After a glass, Ellie informed her that she had taken the pain pills a couple hours before, because her foot hurt. Julie was worried: she had a vague idea that maybe mixing pain pills with alcohol wasn't such a stellar idea. Ellie didn't die, but she did get roaring drunk off one glass of wine, stumbling around the room like she'd had fifteen shots. Thankfully, she didn't puke, but Julie found it best to get her to bed. This time, her sister fell asleep resting on her.

 

* * *

 

"Wake up! You're peeing!"

 

Ellie, still somewhat drunk, rolled out of bed and hit the floor with a thud. Lying there, she continued to pee through her panties. The pee pooled between her legs, and her light pink panties turned red and see-through. "Julie, please, the bathroom," she said, and her sister got out of bed—she had slept naked, Ellie noticed—and put Ellie's arm around her shoulder, half carrying her to the toilet. Ellie sat down and finished peeing. It wasn't until she was done that she noticed she'd forgotten to lower her panties. They had taken the full force, absorbing a complete accident. Ellie would have been embarrassed, but her world was still lurching around her, and she still felt like she might throw up if she didn't concentrate on not throwing up, so she was kind of preoccupied and didn't have much space in her head for embarrasment. Instead, she told a bold lie. "Told you I'd piss on the bourgeoisie," she said. "I waited 'till the last night, so we wouldn't have to sleep in a wet bed." Not even her sister could be dull enough to believe this lie, but Ellie didn't care. In her current state, her accident amused her. She pictured herself on a swing high up over a crowd, like a performer at a circus, except her audience would consist only of the richest bastards in the world, and she'd piss all over them. The best part was that they'd pay her to do it. She'd convince them it was healthy or something. Rich bastards would pay for anything as long as they saw someone richer than them paying for it. Ellie laughed heartily at her own crazy idea. She began to realize why people liked being drunk. It was fun to be stupid, sometimes.

 

Ellie slipped off her wet panties and washed them in the sink. "I'll just hang them to dry with your pissy clothes, sis," she said, and stuck her tongue out. Julie laughed. Ellie was glad her sister was back to her old, cheery self. It was like she just had to be comforted a little and fall asleep, and then a flip switched: when she awoke, she was out of her helpless, childish mode and back to normal.

 

It was early morning. At least that's what the clock told them, although outside it was still dark as night. This was their last day: they had to check out of the hotel and drive home. It was a Monday and they were supposed to be at school, but their mom had implicitly agreed that it was all right for them to skip a day by booking the room for them until today. Both girls had great attendance records. It wasn't like one day would get them kicked out or their grades lowered. Besides, this was the greatest, the most expensive, the fanciest birthday gift of all time, and they deserved to enjoy it for that extra day. Since they had to get up in a few hours anyway, and both girls were quite awake by the time Ellie had gotten changed into clean panties, they decided to simply call it a day and leave the comfy hotel bed behind. Instead, they would take a long hot bath in the jacuzzi—their first, and probably last experience with one in a long time—and then enjoy the hotel breakfast, which they had skipped twice, first because they decided to drink Champagne instead, then because they overslept, piled on top of each other. Their mom always said hotel breakfasts were the best, the most lavish buffets they had ever seen, and the fancier the hotel, the greater the selection at breakfast.

 

As they were being massaged by bubbles, Julie suddenly said, "I know what I'm doing for college."

 

"Oh?" Ellie was intrigued. She couldn't really picture her sister as anything other than a high school student.

 

"I'm going to be a writer."

 

Ellie didn't know what she had expected, but whatever it was, it wasn't that. Her sister's apparent lack of any ability to reflect deeply on anything seemed to disqualify her from the hallowed halls of literature. There was always another shiny thing to distact Julie before her thoughts ranged too far. But perhaps that was her strength. Literature needs some naiveté as a counter-balance to all the theoretical dick-measuring contests. Many writers were interested in the naive, and tried to write in a naive style, but they rarely got it right. They were too jaded, too cynical, too reflective people. They could never properly get into the head of a person like Julie: a spontaneous, naive, optimistic, attention deficient, childish, delightful and accidentally seductive creature like her sister. Maybe that's where Julie could shine.

 

"That's great," Ellie said. "I'd love to see you write the next great novel."

 

Still, as they drove home later that day, Ellie wondered how her sister would ever survive in college without her. And when she considered this weekend, she wondered a little how she would cope without her sister too.

 

(Author's note: this is the last part of this saga. I might return to the characters in the future, as I already have some potential ideas, but I want to give them, and myself, some breathing room. Also: if anyone can tell me which novel Ellie stole her scary hotel story from, that would be fun.)

Edited by satyr (see edit history)
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  • 1 month later...

So much.

 

A loud spattering, only partially masked by the ambient noise.

 

A river trickling down the aisle.

 

So much.

 

Wait, back up.

 

Her sister had become a latter-day hippie. Yes, that's where it started. Ellie was greeted at the airport by her sister wearing, no kidding, a colorful hairband and a flowery sundress with a giant PEACE button affixed to the chest with a similarly oversized safety pin. And she was barefoot. She didn't appear to be wearing a bra underneath. As they hugged, Ellie was sure: she definitely wasn't. She didn't recognize Julie's outfit, but she did recognize her sister's bright smile and radiant personality. 'Oh how have you been it's so good to see you you got so see our apartment and oh the campus it's so lovely come,' she said in one long sentence, not stopping to take a breath after each sentence fragment, simply modulating her voice up and down where you'd expect a pause.

 

Ellie had visited her sister shortly after she began college, and seen her briefly at Christmas—Julie had been too busy with her new friends to spend more than a few days at home during the holiday, which had secretly bothered Ellie, but she had said nothing, as she supposed Julie simply didn't think things through and went with whatever idea seemed good in the moment (a spontaneous roadtrip over New Year's, apparently), simply blind to the fact that she might hurt someone's feelings in the process—but this was the first time she would actually stay with her sister, and it was already well into spring, almost finals time. Julie was characteristically unworried about studying, but still managed to get decent grades—if by 'decent' you meant just about the class average in every class. Ellie was excited about seeing her sister, about seeing the apartment and meeting her roommate, and especially about seeing the college, which was where she intended to head in the fall. During the car ride from the airport, Ellie learned all about Julie's roommate, who Ellie guessed was the source of all this hippie stuff. Coincidentally, she was named Juliet and apparently went by 'Jules.' Julie and Jules. How about that.

 

Student housing was scattered around the city at a dozen different locations, some close to the campus and some on the other side of town, not all centered on the actual campus as at some colleges. Julie, however, had been lucky. She'd arrived one day before orientation week began with no place to stay and stayed in a hotel, then befriended a girl who'd already gotten herself a sweet apartment five minutes from campus through family connections—Jules—the very next day, and promptly moved into the apartment's spare bedroom. Julie parked in a parking spot designated '110-2C' and led Ellie to a second-floor apartment. After taking off her shoes in the spacious hall, they entered the combined living area and kitchen, which was equally spacious and equipped with what looked like factory new, neatly clean furniture. In the living room portion were a three-seat sofa strewn with heart-shaped, apparently handmade pillows, a table, a reclining chair and a large flatscreen tv set. In a corner near a window stood a large potted cactus. On the wall was a poster extolling the virtues of P(eace)L(ove)U(nity)R(espect), and in the ceiling hung what looked like a large, colorful dreamcatcher.

 

'Wow, this is really nice,' Ellie said.

 

'Yeah I know. I can't believe the rent I'm paying for this, it's so low. I'm really the luckiest girl in the world, aren't I?' her sister said and laughed. Ellie couldn't quite determine if she was annoyed or endeared by her sister's odd inflection, something that hadn't been present in their weekly Skype sessions; it must be something she'd affected recently. Ellie didn't get much time to mull it over, as she was startled by a third person entering the room.

 

'Oh!' said the girl, whom Ellie presumed to be Jules.

 

Jules was naked, tracking water droplets, her hair wrapped in a towel. 'I didn't realize you'd be here so soon. You're Ellie, right? I'm Jules,' she said, stretching out her hand for a greeting. Ellie didn't know what to make of it. There was the striking disparity between her physical features and her voice: she was tall, thin and blonde, with large breasts prominently on display in her nudity, but her hoarse voice involuntarily brought to mind a middle-aged, chain-smoking stereotype. And there was the fact that she was completely unembarrassed by her nudity and proceeded as if standing there shaking hands while one party is in the nude is perfectly normal. She could at least have the decency to take the towel off her head and cover up her crotch. What was this, a nudist colony? Hippies and nudists now? Hopefully Julie hadn't turned into this. Ellie liked to see herself as open-minded, but this was a little much to swallow. Hesitating, she took Jules' hand and nodded. Jules smiled and ran off into a different room. Hopefully to put on some clothes, Ellie reflected, although who knows what outfits she'd wear, considering what Julie looked like.

 

The place was spotlessly clean, but her sister was tracking dirt with her bare soles. 'Why aren't you wearing any shoes, anyway?' Ellie said, trying not to yell out why the fuck is your roommate greeting me naked.

 

'Oh! I'll clean it up after I show you some things. You wouldn't believe it, but Jules is kind of a neat freak. I'll clean it up soon, promise. I love walking barefoot when I can. It's so much more natural, and today is such a hot beautiful day! My soles are so thick now!'

 

Clearly she wasn't cleaning anything up anytime soon.

 

'So. That was your roommate,' Ellie said.

 

'Yeah. Isn't she great?'

 

* * *

 

Jules was physically preparing the mushroom tea while she was trying to mentally prepare Julie for the trip ahead of her. It was her first time. She'd been curious, not in the rebellious way of a teen who wants to oppose the supposed wisdom of her parents and their doomsday prophesies about drug use, but more in the way that a child is curious about anything new that appears on her horizon. Jules considered this attitude to be imperative when dealing with psychedelics. She'd considered cutting up the San Pedro and extracting mescaline, but in the end she'd decided that her friend's mushroom hookup would be a better alternative for Julie's first trip. Jules had tripped herself on numerous occasions—LSD, 2C-B, DMT, mescaline, magic mushrooms—and considered herself something of a cross between a shaman and a tour guide to an alien country. They'd been talking about this for months, and now that they had the mushrooms in their possession, she'd picked them up the day before in fact, Julie was too impatient to wait until her sister was gone. The day before they'd showed Ellie around campus and made sure she knew her way around and back to the apartment, and then sent her off to look around for herself and talk to some of the student counselors about her own application, soon due. They'd have some hours to themselves, and Julie had begged her to try the mushrooms now.

 

'Ellie won't mind, she'd never try something like that herself but she's pretty cool, she always supports me. If we time it right I'll be coming down before we meet up again, right?' Julie said. Jules had agreed. She was a little apprehensive about Julie's sister being there and not knowing, but she was too excited to initiate her friend into the exploration of the psychedelic landscape to wait much longer herself.

 

According to Jules, a small mushroom dose that just got you to the edge was inappropriate from beginners. They might be unimpressed and swear off psychs as overhyped bullshit. The opposite, having a terrifying bad trip, was definitely bad, too, but she'd be there the whole way. Tripping is a lot like returning to childhood, but a weirdly twisted, fractal rainbow version of childhood, and having a babysitter to 'tripsit' you is a good way to ensure the trip will be a pleasant and enlightening one. Hippie and psychedelic culture teaches that it is not the chemical, but the set (mindset) and setting of taking it which determines whether the trip is a good or a bad one.

 

Jules had ground up a medium dose of dried mushrooms and let them soak in lemon juice for half an hour. This lemon tek was to ensure that the psilocybin in the shrooms is converted into psilocin, the active component. Normally this takes place in the stomach, but the lemon juice does it for you, ensuring that the trip comes on faster and harder than otherwise.

 

'I'm so excited! What do you think I'll see?' Julie said.

 

'It's hard to predict. Pretty colors, certainly. The secrets of the universe, possibly. Just don't get the idea into your head that you'll see, like, giant spiders crawling everywhere or everyone will turn into lizards like in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. That stuff doesn't happen on shrooms.' Jules poured hot water over the mushrooms and let them soak, then strained the water into another cup. Julie downed the tea, and then Jules repeated the process several times, making Julie drink more tea in order to ensure that none of the active components were left over. The upside of this technique was that you didn't have to actually eat the mushrooms, which could be unpleasant and hard on the stomach. The downside was that you might have to drink a lot. Jules didn't want Julie to have a bad first trip, and she considered a weak trip a bad one, so she repeated the straining and pouring water a couple times more than might be strictly necessary, in order to be extra sure that none of the mushrooms went to waste.

 

'How do you feel?' Jules asked when Julie was finally done.

 

'I feel... Normal.'

 

'That's fine. It doesn't come on quite that fast. But soon enough you'll be tripping balls, I guarantee it. Let's go outside, it's always better to trip around nature if you can,' Jules said, and, taking Julie's hand, led her out of the apartment. In between the college campus and their apartment was a large park, a natural park of preserved forest and grassland in the city rather than a manicured and pedicured astroturf fake park. They used to cut across it every day to get to campus. On a hot, sunny spring day like today, it would be perfect for their purposes. A pleasant stroll, literally stopping to smell the flowers.

 

Jules was wearing an airy blouse with generous cleavage and a psychedelic print over jeans shorts, in the spirit of the experience. Julie was wearing similar denim shorts with suspenders, a romper almost, over a plain shirt finger-painted in all the colors of the rainbow by an older, mutual friend's toddler son. She looked five years younger than she was. Although you'd think it would be too early in the season for shorts, it was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold.

 

After a while—Jules didn't keep track of time with a watch, preferring to let the experience unfold as naturally as possible, despite the fact that she was simply the sober companion—Julie seemed to be coming up. 'Oh!' she said. 'Look!' She pointed at some flowers, then bent down on her knees and stared intently into the grass. 'It's so... I've never noticed that before,' Julie said, apparently glossing over some incommunicable quality to the grass. Jules was an experienced tripper and had a good idea what it was Julie was trying, but not trying to say. Probably the colors were intense and the natural patterns of the grass blades amplified, mirrored, full of symmetries invisible to the sober eye. But more importantly, they would have a greater significance that we are all blind to, thinking it is simply grass, boring grass, nothing more. On shrooms everything seems important, everything seems good. Nature especially. Jules had often thought that if everyone simply tried mushrooms, politicians and corporate bosses in particular, pollution would be halved in an instant. Everyone would realize the importance of preserving our planet's ecosystems.

 

They spent some time walking around, Julie alternating between periods of quiet contemplation—judging by the intense look on her face—and a running commentary on the amazingness of everything in their path. It would have been perfect if Jules' phone hadn't vibrated. It was on 'vibrate only,' but not turned off completely, because Jules had an idea that there might be something important today that she'd forgotten about, so she figured she'd leave it on just in case, even though cellphones kind of ruined the sanctity of the experience. There was something she had forgotten. Her phone buzzed and vibrated, and after a while she could no longer ignore it and had to take the call. It was her boyfriend, who was furious that she hadn't been around to pick up her art as she'd promised. Her boyfriend was moving today, and she had made him promise not to throw away any of the various art projects she'd left in various states of completion around his place, but now he really was on his way to leave the keys with the owner and was threatening to let his roommates deal with all the art—and knowing them, that would mean they'd probably throw it away in a heartbeat, if not burn it just to spite her (they'd never liked Jules, for some reason, always referring to her by unpleasant names like 'hippie slut' and 'attention whore' when they thought she wasn't listening). Abandoning Julie at the height of her trip wasn't ideal, in case anything went wrong, but Julie seemed to be in the perfect state of mind, so surely stepping away for forty minutes to sort out the art issue at her boyfriend's campus apartment wouldn't be too bad?

 

'How are you?' Jules asked.

 

'Fantastic!' Julie replied, her face grinning wider than ever.

 

'Listen, I kind of, uh, I have a thing I really need to sort out, I'll only be an hour tops. Is that all right with you? Can you handle things on your own for an hour?' she asked.

 

'Sure! In fact, you know, this is all so wonderful, I think I'd like to be alone in nature a bit anyway. I'll be here or, like, at the apartment if not, so we'll meet up here or there, ok?'

 

Jules nodded, then ran off to save her art from the unappreciative hands of her boyfriend's roommates.

 

* * *

 

Everything was new to Julie. She had always had the ability to see the wonderful nature of everything, retaining the childlike wonder at nature for quite a bit longer than most of her friends, who decided at an early age that nature was boring (unless it was adrenaline-rushingly exciting, like going downhill skiing, then it was bearable). But this was something new. Everything was exciting, everything familiar looked new. For a while, 'boring' became a string of meaningless sounds to her; she couldn't imagine what being bored was like, even though she was impatient and frequently got bored in a sober state. How come no one realized how fascinating a blade of grass could be?

 

But then gradually something happened. The trip was taking a darker turn. Julie couldn't understand quite why. The visuals were unchanged, but now there was a sinister undertone to everything. The shadows of the trees seemed to comprise scowling faces, the few clouds in the blue sky seemed to have faces also, faces somehow disapproving. Her body, too, felt vaguely uncomfortable, as if there was something wrong with it, as if the proportions weren't right, as if her stomach was separate from the rest of her body, perhaps, although she couldn't quite put her finger on what specifically was wrong. Nevertheless, her cheery mood was giving way, and she remembered Jules' advice about set and setting. Perhaps changing the setting would help her avoid descending into a bad trip. Luckily, she had walked to the edge of the park that directly abutted campus, so she walked out of the park and began strolling between the buildings.

 

This didn't improve things. Although there were less disapproving faces hiding in the shadows here, faces she knew weren't real, but felt anyway, she still felt like her body had become fundamentally disjointed from the universe, had been painfully seared from it in some way. She felt lost and alone. The trip was going south fast and the change of scenery wasn't helping.

 

Then she started to become aware of the source of her problem: she had to pee. She really, really had to pee. Realizing that this was the cause of her worries, and that a simple trip to the bathroom could solve it, she became calmer. The building panic in her stomach decreased, though the dull pain did not. But then it turned out finding a bathroom wasn't that simple in her state, and even though she knew logically that there was nothing wrong with her except for a bladder in need of emptying, she still felt as though something more was fundamentally wrong.

 

She was lost. The buildings were all familiar, but Julie had a poor sense of direction at the best of times—boys were good at spatial reasoning, she had read in her psychology class, while girls were worse but better at emotional understanding and interpersonal relations, and she embodied this—and right now, she was severely impaired. She could walk fine, unlike when drunk, and all the buildings looked familiar, but they felt different, alien. Julie navigated by emotions, not by logic, and right now her emotions were all messed up. She had no idea where there was a bathroom, and she couldn't find her way back to the park where she might simply have squatted in some bushes.

 

Suddenly Julie felt an odd, painful sensation in the pit of her stomach, like an alien pinching a nerve from some higher dimension, and she remembered a moment too late to clench down there. Following it was another odd, uncomfortable sensation. Julie had to look down to confirm her suspicions: there was a coin-sized wet spot in the crotch of her shorts.

 

Her situation was more dire than she had thought. But she could find no relief. She was clenching like a madwoman and stopping to bend and twist every few steps. The campus seemed to her to have become an infinite maze, a labyrinth slowly filling with water, and she had to run to stay ahead. But she didn't know the way, and every time she found a blind alley, she had to double back frantically before the stream caught up with her. A couple of times, it did: she and the river met at a junction and she had to struggle to maintain a lead, getting her bare feet wet—which is to say, spurting a little. She had to look down every time to confirm that the wet spot had not expanded; she didn't trust her senses.

 

She searched building after building, although there was nothing methodical about her search, and she ended up speedwalking in circles, stopping to grab herself when she thought no one was watching. There was no bathroom to be found. A few places, there were people around that she could have asked. Normally, Julie had not a bit of shyness in her, and could easily have strolled into an ongoing lecture and asked the lecturer for the nearest bathroom if need be, but right now, she was unsure of how to proceed. Language was rapidly losings its meaning. It wasn't like she had forgotten the word 'bathroom,' exactly, but saying the word in her head, it felt wrong to her. It felt like the sounds in 'bathroom' might signify something entirely different, like maybe what it really meant was sandwich. The relationship between sign and signified, between word and the thing itself had never seemed as arbitrary as right now.

 

She approached an Asian-looking kid sitting on a bench, hunched over a thick red book. 'Hi,' she managed, but what followed was simply a series of garbled sounds. She was entirely capable of talking, it wasn't like her brain and her tongue had stopped cooperating, but every time she started to say something, it felt odd, so she caught herself and tried using a different word, which sounded equally odd, so she tried a third word, and the result was a curious word salad that signified nothing. She blushed, then turned and powerwalked around the corner without saying goodbye. She really needed to get behind that corner so she could hold herself. Had there been no corner to walk around, she would have wet herself right there, right in front of this guy, all the while mumbling incomprehensible sequences of sounds. He would have thought she was an escaped mental patient, incapable of either speech or bladder control.

 

She thought she might be on the verge of wetting anyway. The stream was catching up and the maze was constricting around her, the corridors narrowing, choking her. She couldn't be sure, as she still felt somewhat divorced from her physical body. She was shaking and felt like crying. That was the moment she ran into her sister.

 

'Oh, hi!' Ellie said. 'I was just done talking with one of the counselors here. She was really helpful!' Her sister was beaming.

 

Julie wanted nothing more than to communicate take me to a bathroom right now, but she couldn't find the right words, or the right words didn't feel right, so she said nothing except 'Hi,' then put on a fake smile designed to distract Ellie from her predicament and from her enormous pupils. A dumb 'everything is ok, mommy, I totally didn't break an expensive vase or anything' look. Totally not minutes away from wetting myself while peaking on mushrooms.

 

'So the counselor lady told me about this great bookstore that has some good books about, like, transitioning from high school to college and such. But it's downtown. She told me there's a bus every ten minutes, though. Would you come with me?'

 

Julie had no choice, she felt. Only her sister could guide her to a bathroom. And if she didn't find one soon, there wouldn't be any need for one, the ground beneath her would transform into an involuntary toilet. And then her sister would be the only one who could comfort her, like that time on the skiing trip. Julie had not wet herself since then and had not seriously considered the possibility until now that it might ever happen again. She nodded weakly and followed her sister, hoping that either her ability to string together a coherent sentence would return miraculously on the short bus ride into town, in which case she'd simply tell her sister about her need for a bathroom and they'd find one in no time—or that a magical Ladies' sign would spontaneously appear somewhere in the bookstore. Stores have customer bathrooms, right?

 

They were in luck: just as they got to the bus stop, the right bus pulled over. They got on, Ellie paying for both of them once she realized Julie had forgotten her wallet. As they walked down the aisle, she must have noticed Julie's fidgeting, because she turned around and asked: 'Julie, uh, do you need a bathroom or something?'

 

Julie managed a nod and an 'uh-huh.'

 

'We'll find one as soon as we get off the bus,' Ellie whispered. 'Let's find a seat at the back, away from the other passengers, so you can hold yourself if you need to.' They took seats at the last row. The nearest fellow passenger was an aging lady four rows in front of them.

 

Once seated, it felt like Julie's stomach was a burning pit of fire. The feelings in her bladder were not located exactly where they should be, but seemed to occupy both her crotch and her stomach, all the way from her thighs to her breasts, and the pain was becoming unbearable. The visuals seemed to be weakening, or perhaps she was simply too distracted to notice them, but when she buried her hands in her crotch and fidgeted around there were still hints of tracers, like her vision was a movie shot with just a few frames per second too little to really fool the eye.

 

'Oh, Julie,' said her sister. It was a telling 'oh,' a mothering 'Julie,' and thankfully everything else went unspoken, so that Julie didn't have to attempt an answer. She knew that Ellie must be disappointed in her for getting herself into this situation. And that was even if she never found out about the drugs. She knew that Ellie had stopped wetting the bed. In one of their many Skype calls, Ellie had proudly announced, 'So, I just realized I haven't wet the bed in six months. I'm dry!' in a manner carefully measured to give the impression that this was not a big deal, just a casual little fun fact about her life, like if she'd said that she saw a woman with green hair on the bus this morning, but betraying the fact that it really was a big deal. Julie had showered her sister with praise, again in an indirect manner designed to suggest that she, too, considered it a casual observation, a funny aside, like if she'd said, 'Cool, sounds like an interesting woman,' about the green-haired lady, although both sisters realized the momentous importance of this. Ellie had always wanted to be a grown-up; she'd been precocious where Julie had always, she knew now, been naive. Bedwetting was the one thing that kept her back, that shackled her to childhood, and now it was gone. And now that she was over it, her older sister getting into a desparate bathroom situation, potentially peeing her pants on the bus must seem awfully childish. Julie was rarely embarrassed, at least not for long, but now she was ashamed of herself for getting high and probably wetting herself.

 

She blushed.

 

She twisted and clenched and snuck her hands inside the denim, then inside her butterfly-design panties.

 

She felt a sudden push.

 

She felt her fingers get wet.

 

She looked down.

 

Observed, in a detached manner, that her wet spot had doubled in size.

 

Observed, also, her sister following her gaze.

 

'Oh no,' said Ellie.

 

Tears began to well up in Julie's eyes, and she fought them back.

 

Ellie leaned over to her and whispered, barely audible: 'Hold on, hold on, sis, we're almost there!'

 

But then everything happened very fast.

 

The fire in her belly reached white hot. She was carrying a nuclear reactor in her bladder, and it exploded. All safety measures were down. Failsafes were overridden. Contractions initiated. Red hot burning lava pee was about to be pumped out into butterfly panties and a childish denim romper. Everything was on the verge of catastrophe. Then catastrophe hit.

 

Her bladder violently contracted.

 

And contracted again.

 

Muscles were disengaged.

 

She watched, feeling as if she were a manager monitoring his nuclear plant from a safe distance as it exploded into a mushroom cloud, somehow both removed from and deeply involved in what was happening.

 

She was peeing.

 

The odd, icky feeling was gathering in force.

 

Wet denim clung to her.

 

Pee broke through her panties, saturated the shorts material, gathering in her lap, gathering in front of her hole and in the back, warming her butt. Then it broke through the shorts, too, as they could hold no more—they were not, after all, diapers, which was what it felt like she should have worn—diapers would have been less embarrassing than this. The pee continued, hissing loudly, so loudly she was sure everyone on the bus must be looking at her, must be watching her humiliate and disgrace herself and giving up her adulthood, her college student status, ridiculing both herself and her scene, the hipsters and hippies that were already ridiculed by half of the college campus and secretly envied by the other half. The pee began soaking into the fabric of the seat, but the seat was no diaper either. Soon it started running from her shorts towards the edge of her seat. Then it fell over the edge, spattering loudly on the floor. A small river was growing, and it was growing in the driving direction, towards the old lady's feet a few rows in front of them. Julie was too horrified to do anything but watch, too weak to resist her bladder's continual emptying although at this point, surely enough had been drained that the remaining contents would have been no challenge to hold under normal circumstances.

 

The flow was about to hit the soles of the woman's shoes, and Julie was transfixed. As the last drops were falling to the floor, she became fully detached from her physical body, felt nothing for a moment, then something amazing happened: all the pain was replaced by relief. By pleasure. Julie watched as her body shuddered, as a little chimera of moan and wail escaped her lips, but she didn't feel it: she was consumed.

 

* * *

 

So much.

 

Ellie watched in amazement as her sister began wetting herself for real. The amazement turned to horror as she noticed that the flow would not stop, as she watched it creep up towards the lady in front of them. She knew the terror her sister must be feeling, and she knew how it would be multiplied once everyone on the bus found out. Nobody had noticed yet, but once the pee hit that lady's feet, everyone would know. Luckily, the bus was just pulling into a stop. She had to get them off the bus while there was still some hope for her sister's dignity. That's when she noticed her sister was shuddering. Was she... Having an orgasm? Then she noticed her sister's pupils for the first time. What the fuck has that hippie bitch gotten her into, she thought, but said nothing. Instead, Ellie dragged Julie off the bus. Just as the doors closed, she could hear the old lady start to yell.

 

They stood there at the bus stop, looking at each other. Her sister had her eyes closed, still in a different space. Maybe she had exited spacetime entirely. No wonder she had said so little. Normally she said so much, when she was present in reality, that is.

 

Her sisters denim romper carried a wet half-moon extending from her crotch up towards where her navel. Her butt carried a similar half-moon. She was soaked. Her sister always held it forever, and when she peed, she peed.

 

Julie opened her eyes and stuttered: 'I'm... so sorry.'

 

The look in her eyes made Ellie forgive and forget everything. In that moment, she had infinite sympathy for her sister, her pants-wetting baby older sister who was high on drugs.

 

'If it makes you feel any better,' Ellie said, 'I actually wet my bed a few days before I came down here. Really soaked it.' She wished she was lying to cheer her sister up, but she was not. Then came the worst of it. Now that she had said as much, she might as well tell the whole truth.

 

'I was so afraid of peeing the bed with your roommate around that I brought... Goodnites.'

 

(Author's note: Only a month since the last one, and I fell for the temptation to write another installment, the longest yet. Perhaps the last one, perhaps not. I spend a lot of time setting the scene, but hopefully the payoff is worth it.)

Edited by satyr (see edit history)
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  • 6 years later...

It's flattering to see that people are still enjoying this six years later. I encourage people to look back in the archives, I'm sure there's a lot of good stories there that many members haven't seen. The forum has gained a lot of new members since 2013. If you find an author you like, check out their profile and read their backlog.

That said... When a thread has been dead for six years, you can safely assume that it's not coming back. I don't necessarily mind people necro-ing threads because they enjoy them and want to bring them to the attention of a wider audience or compliment the author. But pestering an author to continue a series that's been dead for many years is kind of rude!

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  • 3 weeks later...

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