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Chpt. 2 - The Ground Rules

    As I made myself that promise, I also knew this couldn’t be a free for all or interfere THAT much with my real life. So, I created a list of rules for myself to adhere to, with the realization I would probably need to amend some, but I needed to start somewhere. 

Rule 1 - Nobody, and I mean NObody, could find out about this, under any circumstance. Ever. For any reason. Ever. Period. 

Rule 2 - Minimal impact on the environment. I didn’t want to contribute to harming this beautiful planet any more than necessary just for my entertainment, so this rule got broken down into a few parts. 

2A - Toilet paper. Since I was going to be increasing the amount of trips I took to the restroom, I didn’t want to equally increase my TP usage. That’s so wasteful. So I’d have to get creative to solve this. :P

2B - Water usage. Again, increased trips should not equate to increased flushes. 

2C - Laundry. Sure, it’d be easy to leak a lot and just do more loads of laundry. But, that’s so much more water usage. Nope, I would stick to my once weekly laundry schedule. Which meant minimal leaking / accidents for me. 

2D - Wildlife. Obviously I’d have to use the outside world as my extended bathroom, but I didn’t want to bring any harm to the plants or animals. If I went all the time in the same place, the animals would smell it and flee, and whatever tree or bushes were nearby would be sure to be killed by the ammonia / acidity. So for this, I limited myself to twice weekly max for the same tree / bush / area. 

Rule 3 - Health comes first. Obviously, I didn’t want to bring any harm to my body from any of this. That meant I had to keep my fluid intake at roughly the same level I was at now (which was a lot), and maybe even be open about it (to some extent) with my Dr. during my visits. 

     That was it. That’s the rules I had set forth for myself to begin with. I was pretty proud of the list. All that remained was to sit back, and wait for my bladder to fill up, and take my first steps into this new part of my life. 

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Chpt. 3 - A Few Firsts

     Filling up my bladder for the first time of this crazy adventure was more stressful that I originally had though. Mostly self imposed stress, of course. It was a huge balancing act. I wanted to fill it up quickly so I could get started already, but didn’t want to overdo it on my first try and get discouraged. 

     I bargained with myself - I alternated chores with drinking water. Vacuum the house, drink a glass. Do a load of laundry, drink another glass. Dust all those hard to reach places that only get cleaned like once a year, another glass earned! 

     It wasn’t until I got to washing the dishes that I finally felt it. My first ping of a need to go. Helped along by all the running water, I’m sure. It was super minor in all reality. Like I wouldn’t go even if I had no interest in holding and was just living life. But it was still incredibly exciting. I was on my way, finally!

     I finished the dishes, had myself another glass of iced tea this time, and went back to my room to edit my list of ground rules for the first time. 

Rule 4 - I may only go if I’m at least a 7/10 on the need to go scale. 

     This prevented me from going just for the sake of going. For example, I could go and let a little out right now, but A) that wouldn’t be the slightest bit fun, and B) that kind of defeated the goal of this whole thing. I had to wait until desire became necessity. 

     I also decided I had to create a scale of 1 - 10 to use. I’d found quite a few of them online, all different styles and goals. None of them really felt like mine though, so I created my own, because why not. 

1 - literally still sitting on the toilet from the last go. Could squeeze at best a drop or two out, but don’t count on it. 

2 - went very recently. Absolutely no desire to go again. 

3 - could probably push out just barely enough for a urine sample at the doctor’s office if I had to. Don’t feel any desire whatsoever to go though. 

4 - Feeling the first little pings of maybe needing to go, wouldn’t classify it as holding though. 

5 - The point at which I would normally go if it was convenient and I was just going about my daily routine. Would call it more of a desire to get rid of pings rather than a need to go. 

6 - the first actual need to go. Would actively work towards getting myself to a bathroom. Not urgently, but certainly aware it’s becomming less of a convenience, and more of a need. 

7 - A distinct need to go. Fairly soon, but with a reasonable amount of time built in as a safety cushion. Would excuse myself from just about every situation to go. 

8 - An active need to go. The safety cushion from 7 is all but gone. Not doing the potty dance, but acutely aware of my need to go. Would excuse myself from EVERY situation to go. Holding myself is absolutely an option at this point if need be. Also the point at which I would actively consider bathroom alternatives if a bathroom is looking too far away (a squat on the side of a deserted road, in a pool / ocean, in a cup, etc.). 

9 - Potty dancing. Social norms be darned, it’s time for me to go. ASAP. Like now. Would deffinately consider just about any bathroom alternative at this point. Maybe even a leak or 2. 

10 - The time has arrived. Ready or not. Maybe 30 seconds left, but certainly leaking on a regular basis. It’s either pull the pants down now, or do an extra load of laundry later. No more excuses. Make it happen. 

     When I was washing dishes, I’d qualify as a 4. By the time I finished this scale, I was solidly a 6. This meant two things, another glass of tea, and time to hop on the good old internet to take my mind off my imending entertainment. Let the games officially begin!

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Chpt. 4 - A Few More Firsts

    So there I sat, in my room, approaching a 7/10 need to go. According to my rules, I could go now and let some out. But again, that’s no fun. This was my first fill up with plans to not empty. I wanted it to be memorable. 

     It was fairly early in the day, plenty of people out and about. Perfect to add the added risk of somebody noticing my increasing need. I threw on an older pair of V String undies, the kind that I wouldn’t mind having to get rid of, but still cute for the time being. A white bra, light white T-shirt and dark jean skirt finished off my outfit. 

     It was a beautiful late Spring day as I locked my front door and set off towards the boardwalk, about 12 blocks away. The warm weather was a nice change from the bitter winter cold, and I was so happy to see all the small local shops coming back to life. 

     I was solidly at a 7 by the time I reached the Boardwalk. There were a few people out on the beach, but it was still a little too cold for my taste. Instead, I started at one end, and began visiting all the new shops and stores that were just moving in this year. It wasn’t too crowded yet, mostly locals and some die-hard tourists, so I was able to make my way in and out of them with relative ease. 

     I passed about 45 minutes this way, before an oblivious tourist bumped into, dragging me back to the reality that I was on the cusp of an 8/10. I leaned up against one of the rails and bent over slightly, allowing the wave to pass. I thought about heading home at this point, planning on making it back right about at a 9, until I turned around and saw fate had other plans for my day. Staring down at me was one of the newer casinos, having opened just a year or two ago. Now, I don’t particularly condone gambling, but I understand it’s a part of life. I rarely go, and if I do, it’s with friends and only with money I was going to waste on frivilous shopping anyway. However, on this particular occasion, I was quite excited to give it a try. 

     I’d played Blackjack a handful of times before  I wouldn’t say I’m any good at it, but I at least understood the rules. I sat down and put a twenty out for the dealer. There was two other people already at the table, a balding older gentleman who had a stack and a half of chips in front of him (either he’d been sitting there WAY too long, or sat down with WAY to much) and a woman who struck me as a middle aged mother.

     A dozen or so hands passed as I focused on remembering how to play when finally started settling in  I also had two major realizations then.  The first being that I was doing well at playing. Really well actually, only having lost 1 hand since I sat down. That kind of luck NEVER happens. The other was that my 8 was creeping towards a 9/10 far faster than I originally anticipated. I was starting to shift back and forth in my seat with greater frequency, and my hand had found its way to my crotch under the table. I decided Rule 1 needed an amendment.

Rule 1A - nobody can know about any of this. Ever

Rule 1B - Discreetness. Holding with my hand and potty dancing are perfectly fine, as long as it’s as discreet as possible. 

     A few more hands, and a few more wins, my twenty had turned into forty, then sixty, now I was closing in on a cool hundred. I’d never NEVER won like this. And neither had the other two at the table based on the way we were all cheering and celebrating each hand. A cocktail waitress made her rounds by our table, and of course I couldn’t be the only one to not get anything, especially when we were winning so much. I ordered a tea, despite my growing need.  

     I was now solidly in 9 territory, my hand tugging at my skirt and I no longer maintained the ability to sit still. I’d never been this desperate in public before. I wasn’t sure I could even stand without losing some, let alone get to the bathroom, which I didn’t even know where it was. Maybe I was pushing myself a little too far, being so new to the hobby. 

     My tea arrived, I tipped the waitress, and cautiously took a sip. I casually asked the dealer where the nearest restroom was, trying to play it off as a mild inquiry for future reference. My luck held as he pointed right behind me, maybe 15 yards across the playing floor.

    3 hands later, it was time for the deck to be shuffled, and time for me to go, with great haste.  I asked the dealer to put a holder on my spot, I was just going to use the restroom quickly. He rolled his eyes in a way that made me question if he knew what I was up to, but I didn’t have the time to ask or care. My 9 was approaching a 10 as I felt an unfamiliar and ultimately worrying sensation - a short, warm, fast squirt found its way into my undies as I stood up. I couldn’t remember the last time I leaked, maybe as a child, maybe never? It didn’t matter. I just had, and there was quite a bit more where that came from. 

     I half walked, half hobbled the distance to the bathroom, leaking not once, not twice, but three more times. I could feel them run down my leg. No matter what though, I was following Rule 1A, and didn’t bend over, didn’t hold myself, didn’t do anything that would draw any undue attention myself. I just kept walking at as steady a pace as I could, no matter how badly I wanted to run. 

    At the door, I nearly cried as there was a line of two women in front of me. Options limited, time dwindling, I had to make something happen, and happen fast. 

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chpt. 5 - Surprises and innovations

Time running out, I decided to bend Rule 1B a little since I was already in the bathroom, and grabbed onto my crotch. I tapped the shoulder of the woman in front of me in line and asked if there was any way she would let me skip ahead because I was bursting, which she could clearly see given my recent severe bending of 1B. Her answer though caused me to leak yet another squirt into my thouroughly drenched undies. “And you think I’m not also bursting? What if I told you I’m leaking right now, as we speak? I just have the decency not to act like a small child and potty dance.” She retorted, turning back around. 

How? What? I could barely process what she had just said while still maintaining relative control. I could no longer remove my hand as I knew there’d be no stopping the flow at this point, so regaining my “decency” as the woman had said wasn’t a choice for me any longer. 

I had but only one option left  I wasn’t fond of it, but it didn’t break any rules. Granted I was pushing 2C a little, but my V string was already drenched anyway, so I wasn’t about to cause any further harm. I removed my hand, stood up straight, and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Of course, I was still striving to hold, but only whatever my deep down muscles could handle. Needless to say, I leaked. And leaked. And leaked again. However, by the eighth or ninth leak, I mostly had total control again. Of course there was a small puddle beneath my feet, but I was well hydrated, and it honestly just looked like water. Fortunately, I didn’t smell anything amiss either.

My jean skirt was hiding most of the damage, but if anyone looked closely, they’d be able to see my legs were fairly wet. However, as I regained focus and looked at the “bursting” woman in front of me, I noticed 2 things. First off, she was wearing khakis. If she was actually leaking like she had claimed, it’d be totally obvious, just like my legs. I was skeptical until I noticed the second thing, a small, mostly unnoticeable bulge sticking out just slightly from between her legs. SHE HAD A PAD IN!! I realized. She was leaking into her pad, probably on purpose. That’s why I couldn’t see any obvious leaks. That’s genious. She was getting a small amount of relief without anyone noticing. Except me, of course. 

I was pulled back into reality as the woman entered the newly vacant stall in front of us. Wow, I’d been in my own little world for some time now. Finally next in line, and still at a strong 9 despite my brief and momentary releases, I was feeling confident I’d be able to make it without any further leaks, spurts, or unforeseen accidents. That was, until a woman, probably in her early thirties and quite obviously pregnant came running around the corner, into the bathroom, holding herself without any shyness or reserve. 

She audibly groaned when she saw me and immediately asked “excuse me, I hate to ask, but I’m literally about to wet myself.”

”Seems to be the theme of the day” I muttered to myself. 

“ Is there any way I could please go before you?” She continued to plead. 

I took a step to the side and motioned for her to head into the stall as the woman in khakis was finally coming out. I was in this situation for fun, after all. This pregnant woman was likely caught short and incredibly embarassed. The khaki woman washed her hands and left as the pregnant woman started, then stopped, then dribbled a bit before starting again. I once again found myself alone, on the wrong side of the stall door. I grabbed a few paper towels and cleaned up my little puddle from early. I felt wrong leaving it for someone else to clean. Taking a page out of the Khaki woman’s book, I also grabbed a few more paper towels (I know, I was breaking rule 2. I was still new to all this. Give me a bit of a break) and folded the gently before placing them in the base of my undies, just in case any more unforeseen obstacles presented themselves. It wasn’t a pad, and certainly didn’t feel particularly good, but I didn’t have my purse / access to a pad, so this would have to do for the moment as my 9 was rapidly working it’s way back to a 10. My poor bladder was getting ready to start leaking again, ready or not. 

I heard the toilet flush as the pregnant woman finished. My whole body was ready for sweet relief. I was almost sweating in anticipation. That is, until one of those unforeseen obstacles came strolling in, knocking the air right out of my chest, and a small stream into my newly paper - towelled undies. This couldn’t possibly be happening. 

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  • 3 weeks later...

Chpt. 6 - Embracing Embarrassment

I heard the wheels first. It was the bucket of commercial mop, pushed in by a grizzly looking Janitor with a long beard. My heart dropped. 

“ ‘Scuze me ma’am, but I’m going to have to ask you to go on ahead and utilize one of our other facilities this afternoon. This one in particular is being closed for cleaning and maintenance.”

“I... um...” I stammered at first. Rule 1A, RULE1A! I yelled at myself. I’ve bent enough rules today. Especially Rule 2 - using paper towels to catch leaks and thinking about using a pad to leak in, how shameful. None of that was environmentally friendly. It’s amazing how quickly I’d disregarded my own rules as soon as I hit a 9. 

“Of course” I replied and started walking out. By walking, I mean taking tiny steps, barely able to move. I was leaking with every step. I could feel each squirt hit the paper towels, could hear the slight hiss they made. 

The pregnant woman exited the stall and asked “where are you going? I thought you were bursting?” 

I replied “Oh I’ll be alright, this nice gentleman here just needs to clean this bathroom now”  Were my cheeks red? They had to be blushing super hard by now. I was officially at a 10. 

“No, he’ll be alright stepping out for a minute and letting us WOMEN finish our business in the WOMEN’s room. Isn’t that right, sir?” 

He grumbled a few words I couldn’t understand but proceeded to step back out of the bathroom. “You go ahead, hun” The pregnant woman said, holding the stall door open for me. 

I was quite literally 5 feet from the toilet but just couldn’t make it. I was wetting myself. In front of a complete stranger. In front of the toilet. 

It was no longer a squirt, or a series of leaks. I was full go, no slow, forcibly and involuntarily releasing a filled to the brim bladder straight into my V string undies. There wasn’t a thing the paper towels could do at this point. I was gushing. It literally sounded like someone had turned a water bottle upside down and was letting it empty out on the tile floor. 

And it felt... 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chpt. 7 - Coming into my Own

... And it felt amazing, and terrifying, and relieving, and embarrassing, and sensual, and sexual, and the best and worst thing to ever happen simultaneously to anyone ever!

I couldn’t believe how losing control like that could make me feel so much all the same time. I reminded myself towards the end of my massive spirts that no matter how badly I wanted to squeeze every single last drop out, and had to keep some in the tank. I ended up cutting all flow at about a 2. 

That was about 3 weeks ago and while I’m so glad it happened, I also learned and realized a few things. The most important of which being I was running too fast, too soon. By that, I mean that I went all out and pushed my limits passed what was safe or even realistic. 

Since then, I’ve settled into a more consistent daily schedule during the week days that ultimately complies with all my rules, and does actually push me somewhat. The weekends, well, we’ll talk about those a little later ;P

0700 - wake up at about a 7 or 8. Get up, eat breakfast, stretch a little. Usually hit a solid 8, maybe just touching on a 9. I won’t, however let myself get to the point of leaking at this time of day. Even if I have to hold myself and take flying leaps down the hall from the kitchen to the bathroom, I will not moisten my undies this early. 

0800 - shower. First wee of the day takes place at this time. Sometimes it’s mid shower, sometimes, before I’m even able to turn the water on, and sometimes, if I’m in the mood or just not totally bursting, at the very end. But always in the shower, never the toilet for my morning go. 2A and 2B - if I’m already using water, make the most of it. I usually cut my stream off somewhere around a 4, maybe a 5 if I’m feeling a little edgy. Enough so I feel it as I’m leaving the house.

0900 - 1100 - First class of the day, first set of kegels (I’ve taken up practicing my kegel exercises in an effort to cut back on leaks and ultimately increase both bladder strength and capacity. I also really like the feeling of focusing down there in a totally public setting like mid class or in line for the bank. It feels like I’m getting away with something) of the day, and first 500 mL’s of water of the day (I’ve also taken to bringing 2, 1 Liter bottles of water with me, one frozen to last later into the day, and one cold with lemon slices). During the class I’ll usually jump up to about a 5 or 6.

1100 - out of class and straight to the library to knock out some homework. The neat thing about my friend group is there’s at least one of us at the library pretty much all day long at the same table. It’s nice having essentially a reserved table to study / write at and a chance to spend some time with friends, even if most of it is spent reading. It’s the company that’s nice. 

Noon - lunch with a cohort from my program. We brown bag and meet on the more communal floor of the library, a floor down from my friends’ table. Second set of kegels, second 500 of water, and usually hitting the magical 7/10 where I could allow myself to go if the situation called for it. Let’s be real though, I don’t go yet. I walk into the bathroom with my cohort, listen to her get sweet relief while I just wash my hands, and then we go eat. The first few times, she sort of called me out, asking if I needed to go, or why I wasn’t going. I had to lie and say something like I go when I get to the library, or I like to go right before my next class so I’m not distracted. She eventually stopped asking and I got to stop lying, but it also meant I couldn’t fidget, or make any unnatural or stiff movements while in her presence, or she’d be on to me. 

1300 - 1430 - second class of the day, third set of kegels, third, very chilly half liter of water, and a quite stuffed lower belly at around an 8. By the end of this class, it’s time to before I get caught off guard by something on campus and end up a little on the leaky / embarrassed side. 

1500 - I’m a Junior this year, which means I know my way around campus quite well. Not just the main campus, but areas a little more off the beaten path thanks to some nights with good friends, and cold drinks which sometimes led to some exploring. One night in particular, during my sophomore year, a friend of mine who was a Senior and I went drunkenly exploring campus and stumbled upon what I would forget about until just recently. Upon entering the library, most students go upstairs to one of the many reference or study floors. However, on this night, we went downstairs. Passed the aging reference floor and down to the “forbidden” floor, meant only for Doctoral professors, and books that were literally falling apart from age, but have long since ceased remaining in print. Too fragile to actually use, though to old and valuable to toss away.

Anyway, almost everyone avoided this floor except for the occasional random Freshman hookup. On that night though, my friend and I were determined to find something interesting. Well, we did. At the very far corner, past where most of the overhead lights had burned out and no one bothered to replace them, was a narrow, dusty stairway leading down another floor. Naturally, we took it and found a short hallway with a makeshift wall blocking off further exploration. We did find one room, on the left hand side. Of everything it could be, it turned out to be a 2 stall, one sink, ANCIENT bathroom. The school was built in the mid 1800’s, and it looked like this particular section was either built or remodeled some time around the 1920’s. Both toilets were the old fashioned kind with the tank mounted high on the wall and a pull chain to flush. Neither stall had a door. The first stall looked in relatively decent condition while second had seen far better days.

Both she and I took turns christening our find that night. I’d mostly forgotten about it, but looking back, either she was also into holding, or was very close to making a sprint to go somewhere as she didn’t hesitate one second after the initial awe of our find wore off to drop shorts and let loose, hovering since there was a layer of dust on the seat. Of course, there was no TP so we had to drip dry. In front of each other as the room was small and there weren’t any stall doors. Talk about getting to really know someone in a hurry.

In recent times though, I’ve begun utilizing our find from that night as my own, personal, on-campus bathroom. I even brought my own TP and towel. I gave the first stall a thorough cleaning last week and keep a bag with a spare pair of old undies and jeans in the second stall, just in case. If I’m having a bit of a desperate day where I’m more towards a 9 after class, I’ll even allow myself to potty dance a bit in there since its essentially my own bathroom. 

Overall, I’m quite happy with it, other than there’s no lock on the main door, so anyone could in theory find me in a rather compromising situation. 

1530 - 1830 - with my daily on campus trip to my personal bathroom accomplished and my bladder back down to about a 4, I go to my tutoring job in the student center where I help Freshmen with basic gross anatomy while my own anatomy practices my fourth set of kegels, consumes my last half liter of water, and feels my bladder fill back up to at least a 6. 

1900 - 2200 - Finally back home, I have dinner, catch up on my shows, allow myself to embrace my growing desperation by holding myself openly, and usually under my pants, and get ready for bed. 

2230 - there’s almost never anyone out in my neighborhood out at this time of night, which means I get to go out (while still holding myself) find a nice tree or flower in my yard, and pop a squat to water them. Never the same within a week to avoid too much ammonia buildup on the roots. 

I’m not worried about someone catching me while I’m going. Bladders fill up and sometimes you just have to go when you have to go. That would easy enough to explain off. I’m worried someone will catch me during the several minutes afterwards, when I remain squatted and free for all the world to see, air drying with a still half full bladder. That might be fairly difficult to explain. 

So now you know all about my new daily routine. My 4 sets of kegels, 3 wees, and 2 liters of water. Of course that doesn’t leave much room for experimenting or pushing boundaries. That’s what the weekends are for :)

 

 

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Chpt. 8 - Weekends

I’ve always been a fan of spreading my classes out as much as possible, so that means Saturday and summer classes for me. 

My Saturday morning is pretty similar to my weekdays; except my only class of the day starts at 11:00, so I have a little more time in the morning to really push my bladder. Unlike my weekday mornings, I’ll let myself leak, just a little. I’m going to change my undies anyway and I have time to clean up any larger than anticipated spurts. 

I usually get to campus at a 5 or so, around 9:30 and head straight to the library to knock out some homework. I also strive to get down my first half liter of the day, really put the pressure on nice and early. 

First and only class of Saturdays is from 11:00 to 12:30, and it’s a super easy “filler” class so I focus more on getting down my second 500 mL and rocking my first, second and sometimes THIRD set of kegels. By the end of class, that first liter is doing its job and I’ll usually walk out at at least a 7. 

I head straight back to the library, A) to finish some homework, and B) so I’m close to my special bathroom in the basement. 

This last Saturday though, I found myself in a very unusual and slightly uncomfortable situation. I was sitting at a table, my laptop and a notebook out in front of me. None of my friends have class on Saturday so I’m usually at a table by myself somewhere near the back corner, by the office, and of course, the main bathrooms on that floor. I didn’t pick this table because of that, it’s just the farthest from the elevators and subsequent noise. It is interesting, however, to watch as every so often someone speed walks their way over towards relief, passing right by me. Since you can’t leave your laptop or anything unattended for risk of getting it stolen, most people have a friend stay at their table while they head off to the loo. However, on Saturdays, most people are alone, like me, so their choice is pack everything up and lug it with them just for a wee, or hold it. I guess you could say, everyone is into holding on Saturdays. 

Well, on this day, I was engrossed in a paper I was writing for biomecular anatomy, and making quick work of my third half liter. Surprisingly, I was still only at a 7. Maybe my bladder was starting to actually stretch out. 

Anyway, I hadn’t paid much attention as a girl maybe a year or two younger than me took the awkward half run to the bathroom behind me as so many had before her. I did start to take notice as she walked back passed me heading towards the elevators with similar speed mere seconds later. Weird. 

I turned my attention back to the paragraph at hand and took another gulp of my water, leaving just a sip or two left in my third 500 mL. I was FINALLY crossing the 8/10 threshold and needed to start considering when I’d make my voyage downstairs. I still had a decent amount of time left though. And it’s not like I’d have to wait in line or anything. 

Maybe five minutes later, my attention abruptly snapped away from my paper as the same girl that passed me earlier twice, passed me towards the bathroom again. Quite aggressively this time. Welp, since my focus was now all but gone and my barely an 8  bladder was quickly migrating towards a solid 8, I started to pack up all my things as I caught the same girl out of the corner of my eye, rushing into the office. What was happening? 

With my things packed, I decided to take a little field trip to the bathrooms in the hall behind my table. Sure enough, I found a note on the women’s restroom door that read, closed for cleaning. Just for my own interest, I pulled at the handle, and it was indeed, locked. Because I’m me, and I need to know these things, I tried the men’s bathroom and found it open, but in much greater need of both repairs, as the stalls were missing both a door and wall, and cleaning as it was just plain disgusting. 

Curiosity satisfied, I turned and was just rounding the corner of the hallway back out into the main area when I quite literally ran into the girl from earlier who was turning the corner back towards the bathrooms. 

“I’m so sorry!” She said a little loudly and quickly. She didn’t wait for a response though as she ran passed me, back to the bathroom door where she pulled at it without success, swore loudly, and proceeded to bend over and cram not one, but both her hands deeply into her crotch. 

“It’s locked,” I said, feeling bad for her. “ Try the one on the second floor?” 

“Already tried,” she answered,  not looking up. “It’s a single occupant and there’s some girl puking in there.”

”I just asked in the office if I could use the staff restroom on the first floor but, big shock, she said no,” the girl continued on. 

I legitimately felt bad for her at this point. “Maybe try the sciences building? It’s right across the street,” I offered. 

For the first time, she looked at me and I immediately saw the panic and embarrassment on her face. 

“ I’m not going to make it that long,” She confided softly. Then, more loudly, “I literally feel like I could wet myself at any second and I’m a Freshman and that’s so embarrassing, but I can’t hold it anymore and I don’t know what to do!” 

Rule 1A, I reminded myself. No one can know. Mind your own business. But then I thought back to the pregnant woman on my first day of holding, at the casino. And now I looked at this Freshman in front of me and decided to make another amendment to my rules. A “use my power for good” sort of moment. 

Rule 1C - I may assist those that find themselves truly at a 9 or 10 around me in any way I see fit at the time, even if that means exposing my own holding / plans. 

“There is one more bathroom in here, all the way in the basement,” I said slowly, still unsure if I was making the right decision. 

“Where!??” She asked without hesitation. 

“Follow me,” I said and took off towards the elevator at a good clip. While this girl was certainly far more desperate than myself, I was still in no safe condition of my own, heading towards an upper 8. 

In the elevator, the girl could not stop grasping at herself and wiggling about. She apologized which I found strange. Why do people feel the need to apologize when they need to take care of a perfectly normal body function? I took the opportunity to give myself a quick squeeze since she was distracted and no one else was around. I was filling up quite a bit faster than normal. 

We reached the basement floor, and I practically ran across the floor, turning to wait for her at the stairwell as she could only manage a few steps at a time before stopping and fiercely holding herself, one hand delving into her already unbuttoned jeans to hold herself more directly. Societal norms and modesty be darned at this point. 

She followed me down the stairs and into my bathroom where she practically leapt on to the toilet, attempting, and failing to properly pull down her jeans and undies first. 

As in my past, I stood there, not directly watching, but certainly intrigued by situation unfolding in front of me as the room was still small, and there was still no stall door.  There was, however a fresh roll of TP this time. Compliments of me and mostly meant for myself. 

She actually only went for a surprisingly short amount of time given how desperate she appeared, before standing up. I must have given her a quizzical look as she said “I hope you don’t mind waiting a little longer, I’ve still got quite a bit left” before she pulled down her wet jeans and undies, and proceeded to sit back down on the toilet, unleashing an absolute torrent. 

“I...” I started, caught off guard. How did she know I needed to go? Was I being obvious? Well, there’s rule 1A broken. Again. 

“I don’t need to go,” I lied, hoping she’d buy it. I certainly needed to, but in this case, it was more important to keep my need to myself. I could always come back down later, or just leave campus soon and hold it until I got home. 

She looked at me oddly for a second before she declared “sure you do! You were coming from the bathrooms upstairs and held yourself in the elevator coming down. Look at me!” She motioned towards herself, an absolute fountain still gushing out of her. “No use lying at this point”. 

For someone on the verge of wetting herself, she had paid an awful lot of attention to her surroundings. “No really, I’m good,” I continued. “I was filling up my water bottle upstairs and I was just adjusting my phone in my pocket in the elevator”. That was the best I could come up with. Now to see if she believed me. 

To my surprise, a big smile spread across her face. “You’re into holding, too?” 

 

 

Edited by Xx4evRockerxX
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