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Okay, so this is my most ambitious story on here to date. I tried to include a lot of different things into it. Hopefully, y’all will like it. I ended up writing it on the notes app of my phone, so please don’t hate me for formatting issues or a few typos 🙂 It’s pretty lengthy and think I found a few good break points. Enjoy!

 

“Parking to Front Leader,” Liz called over the radio, channel 8. 

At 18, Liz was among the youngest members of the Camp Theme Park team. 

When she first applied for the job, she wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but quickly made sense as her soon to be manager explained it in the interview. Basically, the theme park was built directly next to an old summer camp. Accordingly, the owners saw an opportunity, and started having their staff for the theme park live in the old camp cabins for the summer. It was a brilliant idea. 

Since the staff lived right next door, the hours were long, and there was rarely a day off to be had, but the money was good. Far better than most young adults would make this year. It gave Liz the feeling of having a leg up financially heading into Freshman year of college. 

Camp life started early, with breakfast on the mess hall tables by 6:00. Work life at the park started shortly thereafter, around 6:30 when the early birds would start trickling in. 

Liz was on Parking duty today, sitting in a small shed in the parking lot, collecting $5 from every car and directing them where to go. It was mindless and tedious, but not hard at all. 

It was a warm Spring day, warmer than it had been recently and Liz was trying to keep up on her fluids. She knew she’d have to start getting ready for the brutal summer heat, and learning to drink more water during the day was the first step. 

It was also the first step towards more bathroom breaks, which she was looking for at the moment. She had gone around 6:00 that morning, before breakfast. At 10:30, and 2 water bottles deep, the time to go again was approaching. “Parking to Front Lead,” she tried again on the radio channel 8. 

There were 4 Leads in the park; 1 for Rides, 1 for Games, 1 for Food, and Front Lead, which basically included everything else (parking, tickets, info booth, first aide station, etc.). The Leads were responsible for assigning the staff to their post for the day, getting coverage for breaks, trouble shooting any issues that arose, and essentially just making sure things ran smoothly. 

Liz was mostly interested in the coverage for breaks part as she tried again “Parking to Front...”

“Go ahead Parking,” came her response from her annoyed sounding Lead, Shannon. 

“Just looking to take my morning break,” Liz answered as politely as she could. 

There was a particularly long pause before the radio cracked back, “copy, standby.”

Standby? Like she had a choice, Liz thought. She was sitting in a 3 foot by 4 foot shed at the front of the parking lot with a pretty consistent stream of vehicles coming in now. She had absolutely nowhere to go or hide. 

Liz crossed her legs, thankful the uniform was relatively comfortable - short khaki shorts, light blue T-shirt with the park logo on the breast, and dark blue baseball cap with the same logo on the front, her long brunette hair in a ponytail out the back. 

Underneath, her choices left a lot to be desired should anyone see, which she wasn’t counting on. She had chosen plain white soft cotton panties, the kind you can buy like 20 pairs for $10. They didn’t fit perfectly, a little loose in all the wrong places, but they were cheap (important given she was a nearly broke college kid) , light (important in the summer heat), easy to clean (important given the long work hours), and overall pretty much indestructible (arguably most important since Liz used the camp laundry service. They weren’t known for being gentle on delicates.) Liz also had her name written in permanent marker across the back for the same reason.

Up top, she rocked a plain black sports bra for many of the same reasons. Additionally, the color and light fabric of the uniform top left very little to the imagination. While she had a chest to be proud of, watching middle aged men oogle her all day from their car in front of wives and children just didn’t do anything for her. 

Liz sighed as another car pulled up. It wasn’t that she was worried about not being able to hold it. On the contrary, she’d held it much longer, and had to go far worse many times when she was in school and purposefully avoided the gross school bathrooms. It was more just the constant uncomfortable pressure that bothered her now. In school at least, she had room to move around, friends to talk to, lessons to pay attention to. Here, she had nothing and no one to distract her from her need. 

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“I heard you the first time,” Shannon muttered under her breath, clicking through several screens. 

Trevor couldn’t do much but stand behind her, somewhat awkwardly. The aged computer had frozen on him and he ended up accidentally clicking way too many wrong things while trying to transfer pre-bought tickets. 

He could have resolved it fairly quickly had the mother in front of them insisted he “call for help” which led to his Lead, Shannon, now stumbling through screen after screen. She was going about it all wrong, but he wasn’t in any position to say so. 

At 22 years old, Trevor was on a path through life he believed few others would ever be allowed to take. He and his best friend from college, Leah, had stumbled their way head first into inventing an industry disrupting cell phone, worn as a bracelet rather than carried in a pocket. 

Shortly after proving it was possible, Trevor and his partner made the commitment to their new (though not official) company, and dropped out of school to start dedicating all their time and effort towards making it a reality. 

Unfortunately, building a prototype and securing patents was expensive. As 2 college drop outs, funds were not something they had a lot of. Sure, they’d bring on investors, but only after the patents were secured. They needed an easy job, preferably relatively mindless so they could focus on their project, that payed at least decent. The Park checked all those boxes nicely. At the rate they were going, they’d have their funds by the end of the season. 

All of which led to the young man standing awkwardly behind Shannon while she struggled to fix a very broken program. 

He was normally quite confident, even big headed sometimes. What budding business owner isn’t? 

But standing there, behind Shannon, made him feel like a child who needed an adult to clean up his mess. It was fairly humiliating. 

To add to the awkwardness of the situation, Shannon quite clearly had to use the bathroom.   

She crossed, uncrossed, recrossed and uncrossed her legs yet again while bending over at the waist. Her sentences were short and her thoughts (given how she had circled back to the same screen for the third time) were even shorter. 

Trevor wasn’t fond of the situation. He was a man of technology - clean, precise, never leaving anything to chance. Shannon, on the other hand was apparently leaving her basic biology up to chance as she wiggled in front of him. He was becoming rather uncomfortable with the situation. 

“Hey,” he started lamely, unsure of himself in the moment. 

“As long as you’re here anyway, do you care if I take my morning break?”

He could actually see the anger rage as it flared up through her body, only to just as quickly be extinguished. He guessed it was because he was asking for a break when she so clearly needed a bathroom break herself. 

“Go ahead,” she answered softly. It almost sounded like a defeated tone to Trevor, but that thought was pushed aside as she then said with a renewed authority, “But hey, 15 minutes.”

Obviously. Morning break was always 15 minutes. He left the room before his tongue got ahead of his brain. 

Outside, he immediately pulled out his cell phone and started making calls. He had a laundry list of materials to order, appointments to make, and an assortment of other matters to take care of. 

He’d always found it easier to focus on a phone call while walking, and soon found himself halfway across the Park, in the Games section. 

He usually didn’t wander out this far into the Park, but a particularly important and mentally taxing call left him unawares of his location as his legs moved forward. 

When his mind finally came up for air, he found himself directly in front of the Horse Race game, about 15 feet back from it. 

Most games had 2 operators, one to run the game and prizes, one to manage questions and keep track of collecting tickets to play. It also made it so they could just cover each others’ breaks instead of having someone else come over. 

As Trevor watched, he realized something very odd was happening. There was only one team member visible - a male, about Trevor’s age. No one was playing the game and the fellow running the game had both his hands resting on the roughly waist high ledge. While Trevor couldn’t be sure, it looked like he had his shirt untucked, a huge dress code violation. 

More interestingly was this guy’s expression. He looked somewhere between, strained, relieved, embarrassed, and amused. 

It took Trevor a moment before the thought hit him - was he...? No, he couldn’t be. Could he? 

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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 3 weeks later...

This next part is ending up being WAY to long for a single post. So here’s the first part of. Just know it does circle back to the Park. There’s just a HUGE back story to tell here. Enjoy! 😊 


 

~  The Benefits of Saying No: Dropping the “Go Just in Case” Mentality and Gaining Bladder Independence ~ 

Catherine scribbled the title in her notebook. She’d rewritten and reworded variations of it a few dozen times already, but was still second guessing herself. It was the title to the most important paper she’d ever written - her doctoral dissertation to receive her MD. 

It was 10:45 in the morning, just before she had to leave camp for her first day at the Park. 

Obviously, this was not her dream job. But medical school was expensive and she needed to start paying some of her loans down. She searched high and low for a decent job for an almost Doctor, but came up dry. 

She was lost, unsure what to do next until she met someone about a year or two younger than herself at an end of semester house party. All he did for hours was talk to anyone who would listen about this invention he was working on, and how he dropped out of school to work on it. She only listened for a few minutes before growing bored and talked to her friends instead. 

That was, until she overheard him talking about a job he had gotten for the summer to help fund the initial costs. Apparently it payed quite well. Suddenly, he was worth talking to. 

She remembered very little about him other than his name was Trevor, he worked Front at the Park, and he was pretty full of himself for someone who was essentially a broke college drop out. Of course, she only almost had MD after her name so she wasn’t really in a position to judge. 

Catherine closed her notebook and started to leave Camp for the walk to the Park. She’d been told it was only a 5-7 minute walk, but being late wasn’t her style. 

As she was leaving the cabin, she was greeted by the sight of the washroom building. Since the Camp was so old and never really renovated, there was only a main washroom building for a set of 4 cabins. The cabins themselves had no facilities. And since this was once an all-boys summer camp, there was no men’s or women’s rooms - just a large bathroom divided up into 3 main sections. There was a shower section to the right with 8 stalls and curtains that left a lot to be desired. She mostly just faced the wall so all anyone could see was a glimpse of her butt. Not all her female coworkers, and almost none of the males were as self conscious. Sometimes to get pleasure or amusement, but usually not. 

In the center section when you first walked in was the sink and mirror area. 

And then the important part - the toilets in the left section. 

5 stalls and 6 urinals to 4 whole cabins was a little on the tight side. Catherine was glad she started her work day later than most, so she missed the morning rush. Not that it really mattered anyway, considering she didn’t take morning pees anymore. 

She used to, of course. About a year ago, that all changed. 

360 days to be exact. That’s the amount of time she’d been working on her paper. 

While the Park was obviously not her dream job, becoming a Urology Doctor specializing in incontinence and non-pharmacological interventions was all she wanted to do. Basically, she wanted to help people hold it. 

While some research already existed, it was sparse and usually not exactly what she was looking for. So part way through her 3rd year of med school, she proposed a radical idea to the review board. 

Since she wouldn’t be able to find enough published works to adequately write her paper, and she wasn’t in a position to hold a formal study, she offered to gather “a substantial amount of anecdotal evidence relevant to her topic”. 

This seemed to satisfy the board enough for them to allow her to at least get started. 

Interestingly enough, while she wanted to help incontinent individuals hold their bladders longer, she had little experience in pushing her own limits. She’d never wet herself since she was little. She couldn’t even honestly say she could recall a time where she considered herself “desperate”. Her parents were always firm believers of trying before leaving the house, and always went out of their way to find a bathroom in a hurry if she even hinted at needing to go. 

A few days before the start of her year long research project, Catherine sat down and started to plan out the basics. Because she was including so little formal research, she knew she had to dazzle the board members by covering as many of her bases as she could. That meant a lot of charts and graphs and definitions. 

She started out by deciding she would only pee when she “really needed to go”. One sentence in and she already realized she needed to quantify and define her thought process. 

Catherine looked around online for a little bit and found an absolutely dizzying amount of 1-10 scales with varying specifics. However, they all worked under the general premise of 1 = just went or can’t go and 10 = can’t hold it or going. 

She didn’t like any of them, though. The whole concept felt flawed to her. It was too subjective in nature - one person’s 8 could be another’s 6. 

After brainstorming for a while, Catherine created her own “How badly do I have to pee” scale system. Each increment correlated directly to a physical feeling or action in order to make it as objective as possible. 

 

1 = Still sitting on the toilet from the previous pee (for males, still holding your genitals.) 

 

2 = Exiting bathroom from previous pee. 

 

3 = First awareness of needing to relieve yourself. The proverbial “bladder ping”. 

 

4 = First time your hand subconsciously moves over or near your groin. 

 

5 = First time your legs cross. 

 

6 = First time you openly admit your need to use the bathroom to either yourself or others around you. 

 

7 = Second time either you cross your legs or your hand finds its way to your genitals. 

 

8 = First time you actually physically grab yourself in an attempt to help hold it. 

 

9 = Fear of not being able to make it sets in. 

 

10 = Either making it, or not. 

 

She acknowledged there were some flaws to it, but there was no “when you feel...” or “when you would normally...”. It was all as objective as Catherine could make the relatively subjective act of holding your pee. 

With that done, she was able to circle back and complete the main premise of the paper and study - she would only allow herself to pee when she really needed to. After reviewing her brand new chart, she settled on a 7 as the defining moment when she would allow herself to actively seek relief. 

Her immediate plan was to wait until she was at an 8, but then realized there would be highly impractical and embarrassing times to have to physically hold herself just to be allowed to go. However, she could play off something like crossing her legs for a second or third time. 

Perfect. She had a base plan to build off of. Nothing left to do but actually get started. 

The night before she embarked on a year long endeavor to learn as much about prolonging peeing as she could, Catherine was understandably nervous. This was a serious undertaking. She was about to alter how she managed a basic human need for an entire year! 

As she neared midnight, the starting time for her study, she debated if she should be completely empty, or start however full she happened to be at the time. 

As 11:58 drew near, Catherine decided as empty as possible was the way to start something like this. She headed to her bathroom, sat on her toilet, and let out what ended up being substantially more than she thought she was holding. Good thing she decided to start empty. 

Catherine watched between her legs as her stream trickled dribbled, then finally ended, she stayed seated, and made no move to wipe herself. A few drops casually rolled down her and dropped off, but she remained unconcerned. 

11:59 rolled around and Catherine tried to pee again. She found some success as a weak dribble streamed out of her for a few seconds followed by a dozen rogue drops. 

11:59 and 50 seconds and Catherine pushed one last time. 5.... drop. 4.... drop. 3.... nothing. 2.... drop. 1... Catherine gave a last squeeze of her bladder to be met with a single, final drop at the stroke of midnight. 

“Hell of a way to start a study,” Catherine whispered to herself as she wiped her nethers, realizing she was at a 1 on her new scale. She chuckled softly for moment. What was she doing?

The first day of the year long study for her paper was a challenge, to say the least. There was quite a learning curve. 

Catherine had started at the beginning of a few days off on purpose. There was bound to be a few sticky points to work through. And all too quickly, the first sticky point came to fruition. 

Catherine lazily woke up the morning after her midnight start time to a comfortably cool Spring morning. She was all nestled in a cocoon of blankets. As she started to stretch, she suddenly became cold, and felt a dull heaviness in her lower belly. 

She groggily uncocooned herself and stumbled into her bathroom, tugging down her pajama pants and underwear before plopping herself on her porcelain throne. 

She felt the relief coming as her bladder contracted, the pee rushing down her urethra, ready for escape. Until...

Catherine leapt up and crammed her hand between her legs as she felt her pee find its way out all over her hands and legs. She squeezed everything as hard as she could to try and stem the flow. 

It took a few seconds of standing in the middle of her bathroom floor, hunched over with her hands crammed deep, but her stream died down and eventually stopped. 

Well this was a problem. Actually... No. This was several problems. 

First and foremost at the top of her list, Catherine still had to pee. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Catherine was about halfway through the walk to the Park at this point. She smiled inwardly as she thought back to the early days of her study. 

At that time, she still had so much to learn, and so many embarrassing moments ahead of her. Look at her now! Going to her first day of a new job with only a brief glance at the bathroom. Sure, she could go, but she felt confidence in herself. She almost felt comfortable with the dull pressure in her bladder. This was the type of feeling she hoped to one day give to her patients. 

As she walked, she continued to think back to the early days when she fortunately remembered at the absolute last second about her solo study for her paper, and leapt off the toilet. At the very least, she had kept her integrity there. Even though she was literally only 8 hours into it. 

Since she was only peeing when she really needed to, she contemplated where she fell on her new system. Technically, since pee had just come out of her, she was at a 1. However, she also currently had a hand delved deep into her crossed legs to hold it, which made her an 8. According to her rough set of rules, she was allowed to go. 

Caught with indecision, Catherine opted to charge ahead with her second most problem - she was in dire need of a shower. Peeing down your own legs left an uncomfortable feeling.

As if her bladder agreed, she was able to remove her hand and stand up straight without risk of losing anymore. She guessed that officially made her a 1 out of 10, despite still having the dull heaviness of needing to go. 

Catherine stepped out of her drenched pajama pants and underwear, and pulled off her cami top. She was about to get in the shower as she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror. Her lower belly bulged out a little more than normal. A direct result of her ongoing need to let go of most of last night’s pee. It was just odd, seeing herself like this. She’d never purposefully held it before. 

Even more odd for her to see was the wet drops decorating the short hairs between her legs. She’d been wet there before. Every time she peed, of course. But knowing it, and seeing it staring back at her in the mirror were 2 very different things. 

The shower itself was physically uneventful, save for an excessive amount of scrubbing both between her legs, and down her legs. Mentally, however, Catherine was running on high. 

Had she just wet herself? Even with her pants and underwear down, in her own bathroom, she hadn’t been in complete complete control. When was the last time that happened? Not since she was little, surely. And even then, Catherine had a hard time recalling any time at all she hadn’t gone in a toilet. Of course, she almost never held it. And certainly never on purpose. 

And now, what could she do? As she crossed her legs while washing over her belly, she was a 5. But she also openly admitted to herself she needed to go, which made her a 6. Neither of which allowed her to actually go though. 

Even as she crossed her legs several more times while toweling off and getting out of the shower, making her a 7 which allowed her to go, she held it. She had a lot of work to do. 

Throwing on nothing more than the first pair of panties she could grab when she reached into her drawer (a pair of purple stripped high waiste), and an old T-shirt with a band logo, Catherine sat at her desk to get started. 

First off, how to classify what happened in the bathroom? She didn’t have an accident because she had clearly made it to the toilet in time. But she did wet herself. But her underwear and pants were down. 

Her pencil tapped on the desk, legs crossed. It was so hard to think having to pee so bad!

Catherine took a deep breath. “Calm down,” She told herself. “This is what you’re trying to do here. You’re in control. You’re not going to pee yourself. But a lot of people may not be so lucky. You’re doing this for them.”

For some reason, this helped as she uncrossed her legs and started to write. 

 

Successful pee = complete or mostly complete emptying of bladder in controlled manner (may or may not be in toilet), AND underwear and/or pants remain dry. 

 

Leak = underwear and/or pants become obviously dampened or wet (either physically or visually), but bladder remains noticeably filled. 

 

Accident = inconveniently or without intention, underwear and/or pants become obviously dampened or wet visually, AND there is noted relief in bladder fullness (may or may not feel completely empty). 

 

Wetting = conveniently or intentionally pee, dampening or wetting underwear and/or pants, AND there is noted relief in bladder fullness. 

 

Unsuccessful pee = mostly incomplete emptying of bladder (started off intentionally peeing with expectation of being successful pee), AND underwear and/or pants remain dry. 

 

Spurt = small amount of pee released intentionally or unintentionally in manner that allows underwear and/or pants to remain dry. 

 

And there it was. Catherine dropped her pencil and sat back to admire her work, recrossing her legs. She had quantified every event that she could think of. 

Going by this thought process, she had a leak earlier in the bathroom. Which somehow made her feel better that she didn’t have an accident or wet herself. Even though it was a justification, it helped a lot to think about it that way. 

Catherine pushed back away from her desk, very ready for the first successful pee of her study until a sinking feeling hit her gut - every reliable study she’d ever seen had a pre-trial baseline or benchmark to compare the end results with, and either prove or disprove the main thesis. 

All of them, except hers. 

Catherine sighed and put a hand between her legs as she recrossed them, forcing her fingers deep towards her urethra. She’d never had to go this bad before. How would she know how far to push it? Would she know when she’s about to wet herself?

“Wait,” She said aloud, trying to get ahold of her thoughts again. Why was it so hard to focus when you really need to pee? Is this how it would be for the next year? 

Catherine frowned at that prospect before coming to a realization. 

“That’s it,” She whispered. “I just have to pee.”

Despite being chilly out, Catherine three on a pair of gym shorts in an attempt to put the least amount of pressure on her bladder. The old band T-shirt would have to do. She couldn’t bring herself to waste time strapping herself into a bra and finding another shirt. 

Time was of the essence and her bladder was the stop watch. 

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