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So, this was actually written using several characters from a series of books that I write. In order to post it here, I have changed everyone’s names as well as a few key details. I want to ensure tha

Another involving these characters.  ***  Elizabeth could be caring and compassionate at times, provided the situation called for it. Usually having someone dote on you wouldn’t be such a ba

This one has a scene depicting child abuse, skip down the asterisk if you don't want to read that. Kenneth couldn’t wait any longer. He was squirming and holding himself and doing everything he c

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I saw this prompt on Tumblr for a story where a character who is not normally bladder-shy, suddenly is in a particular situation and gets really confused by it. I've also kinda been wanting to do a fic where Kenneth has to help Dwight go, so I decided to use them for the prompt. The idea for the situation comes from my partner telling me that if he's trying to pee while in a vehicle, he can't go if he can feel it moving. Like, if he's got to use a bottle in the car, the car's got to be stopped first or else he won't be able to. Decided to give Dwight the same issue here. 

***

Dwight was confused.

Here he was, his bladder ready to explode, standing at a toilet, and nothing was happening. He couldn’t understand it. He’d been needing to go for ages as he waited for the train, Bryce refusing to let him use the restroom at the station because there was going to be a toilet on the train and he didn’t want Dwight to cause them to be late. Dwight had been nervous that Bryce wasn’t telling the truth— The last train he’d been on had had no facilities— but, once he was able to walk about and explore, he quickly found the place he needed to visit, locked himself inside, unzipped, and—

Nothing.

His pee just remained where it was. He was constantly aware of the movement of the train. Every few seconds a bump would not only make his bladder spasm, but make his body tighten and clench, preventing anything from coming out. It was really freaking him out; He’d only gotten ‘frozen up’ like this once in his life when someone had been bothering him too much. Every other time he’d ever peed, it hadn’t mattered where he was or who was near him, he’d just go.

But, that wasn’t happening now.

He felt a weird fear seize him. Was this how it felt to be Kenneth? Dwight had seen many, many times just how painful having a shy-bladder could get for his friend. He’d seen Kenneth doubled over in tears, red in the face with humiliation as his holding muscles continued to refuse to grant him what he needed. Dwight didn’t want to know what it felt like to be that desperate and still unable to release his flood.

He mashed the flat of his palm over his bladder and practically jumped out of his skin when the pain pulsed through him. Good God! It felt like his urethra was burning, and like his entire lower half was gonna disintegrate! But, even with the unfathomable amount of pressure his poor bladder suddenly found itself under, it didn’t release. The confused dread he felt amplified; Maybe there was something wrong with him? Like, could his ‘pipes’ be plugged up with something somehow? Was this what a kidney stone did?

A loud knock resounded off the door and Dwight sighed. He’d been here too long, and it didn’t look like he was gonna get any peeing done in the next few minutes, anyway. He reluctantly zipped back up, and a violent spasm crashed through his bladder as he turned away from the toilet he needed so badly. Just the mental affect of leaving behind the place he was supposed to be able to get relief seemed to make his urge deepen and bloom into a very severe state of need. Frustration surged into his mind; If his bladder was seriously this full, then why the Hell wouldn’t it empty when he told it to?!

He opened the door and stepped aside as another man headed in. Then, he returned to his seat with Kenneth and Bryce. “Have you handled yourself now?” Bryce asked in a bored tone.

Dwight was too… Not ashamed, but rather… Apprehensive, to admit that he’d been unable to make himself go. He just nodded and resigned himself to holding it a bit longer. He’d try again later.

Dwight spent the next half hour squirming in place, grinding his thighs together and jiggling his knees. He kept looking at the door to the restroom, wishing he could try again. But, it hadn’t been long enough. Kenneth and Bryce both thought he’d just peed. Going again now would raise questions. He had to wait longer. Just a tiny bit longer, until it would be okay, and Dwight could relieve his poor bladder.

He didn’t last much longer, however. His bladder was swollen and convulsing beneath his belt, and the feeling of heaviness was just awful! It was well and truly an emergency now, and he was certain that whatever weird thing was going on earlier wouldn’t happen again; He was just too full to not be able to pee!

He stood to his feet, ignoring the look Bryce gave him, and shuffled back to the restroom on stiff legs, with his arms kept straight against his sides so he didn’t hold onto himself. He locked the door to the toilet, tugged down his zip and took aim. This was gonna feel amazing

Every few seconds, though, he felt slight jolting beneath his feet. And every time it happened, he clenched. His pee refused to come out, his muscles refused to ease. He finally made the connection between the sensation of movement and the strange tightening of his sphincters, and felt a bit ridiculous. He was about to burst, but getting jostled around a little bit was preventing him from going?

If that was the cause, he supposed he was a little less scared. Nothing was wrong with his body—Apart from the fact it was completely filled with piss, anyway. Deciding that maybe the bumpiness wouldn’t affect him as badly if he wasn’t trying to stand and aim, he pulled his pants down the rest of the way, sat himself down, and waited for what was sure to be a magnificent flood of relief.

And waited.

And waited…

The panic was returning now. Every time he felt himself getting bounced, he clenched and braced himself against the toilet. He kept feeling like the pee was starting to trickle through his overtaxed urethra, only for the feeling to fade back into the desperate pulsating misery of his bladder yet again.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

There was another knock on the door, and Dwight sighed to himself. He didn’t know what to do now. Apparently, he couldn’t pee. But, he couldn’t not pee, either. The excruciating contractions shooting through his middle made him want to scream. He realized with some dismay that his knees had started to bounce and he was twisting on his hips; He was squirming up a storm despite being on a toilet where he was free to pee as much as he wanted!

And, oh, how he wanted to pee! He wanted to pee out an entire ocean! He wanted to pee until his body was so dried out he looked shriveled! He wanted to pee until this awful, impossibly painful trembling of his straining pelvic muscles finally evaporated!

God… He just wanted to pee!

More knocking, much sharper and ten times more impatient, and Dwight gave up once more. He cringed as he got to his feet, hands pressing almost cruelly against his exposed dick for a moment before he finally pulled his pants back up and zipped. He couldn’t bring himself to close his belt, just the feeling of his pants cutting into the round, hard curve of his aching bladder was making him rock his hips back and forth and squeeze himself even tighter.

He opened the door, certain he was going to look more than a little disheveled to whomever was on the other side. And, of course, it just had to be Bryce. “Finally, I’m bursti—“ Bryce stopped and looked Dwight’s body up and down, eyeing his pink, flushed face. “What in the world were you doing in there?”

“Peeing,” Dwight lied.

Bryce was about to retort, but evidently he was more eager to empty his own bladder than he was to tease Dwight. Even if Bryce didn’t say anything more, he still managed to taunt Dwight quite a bit without even realizing it. Because, only a second later, Dwight was unable to block out the sound of Bryce’s zipper being pulled, and especially not the sound of his relieved sigh as a stream of liquid began to trickle out of him.

Dwight threw himself down into his seat beside Kenneth, cringing as this succeeded in sending a sharp tremor of need through his pulsing bladder. He clenched his holding muscles tight, and fought not to grip himself again. He crossed his legs together, and the relief this granted was nice, but lasted only a couple seconds. A sudden spasm rocketed through him and he couldn’t stop himself from doubling over. “Kenneth…” He said. “H—How much longer until we arrive?”

Kenneth gave his friend an odd look. He was confused. It looked as though Dwight needed a pee in the worst way, but he couldn’t figure out why. As far as Kenneth knew, Dwight had just emptied his bladder a couple minutes ago. Even when Kenneth had had that awful infection, he hadn’t needed to go this often! Maybe it wasn’t a need to pee that was troubling him, maybe it was something else. “Are you okay?” Kenneth asked. “Are you motion sick?”

In a way, Dwight supposed he was. The feeling of being on a moving vehicle had rendered him incapable of peeing, and he had to go so incredibly badly that he was actually starting to feel nauseous. “Nnno,” Dwight said nervously.

“What’s wrong?” Kenneth asked. “You look… Not okay.”

Dwight couldn’t believe he felt anxious about admitting his problem to Kenneth of all people— The man whose shoulders he’d rubbed for minutes on end countless times just to coax him into taking a badly needed piss. The man whom he’d shared everything with since they were eight years old. The man that was the entire reason he got up in the morning, and the one thing he was sure he could never live without.

“It’s…” Dwight winced and kicked his feet out, before drawing them back closer towards his body— A small spurt had just wet the front of his boxers. He was losing it… “I… I have to pee. Bad.”

Kenneth tilted his head in bafflement; “You just went,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t,” Dwight said. “I tried to, but—“

Bryce returned and sat himself across from them. “You are whispering,” he said. “I do not like it when you whisper— And what in the world is wrong with Smith?”

“We were talking about how you need a nose-job!” Kenneth snapped.

Bryce stared at Kenneth for a moment, his expression transforming into a scowl. “Oh, when we get back, I’m going to make you march until your feet fall off,” he warned.

“We’re gonna go look around,” Kenneth informed. “Come on, Dwight.”

Once they were away from Bryce, and in a secluded area, Dwight whispered furiously to Kenneth as he bent almost double at the waist. “What the Hell did you say that for!? Now he’s mad!”

“Yes,” Kenneth said. “But, he is distracted. He has forgotten about all that squirming you were doing.”

“So, you did that so—Ah—“ Dwight’s hands flew between his thighs, his legs pressed together. “Ssso that he wouldn’t figure out I have to— Oooh— Really, really have to pee?”

“Exactly,” Kenneth said. “Now, what is wrong? Why have you not gone?”

“I can’t,” Dwight said.

“Huh?” Kenneth asked. “But, you don’t have… My… Um… You know… My ‘thing’…” His voice got softer and softer with each word, until he was speaking so quietly that not even a bat would be able to pick up on the sound.

“I don’t,” Dwight agreed, remembering all those wonderful, easy times where he’d just peed in whatever location he felt like going that wouldn’t get him into trouble. He’d just feel the urge, turn around, and let it flow nice and simply. This situation was like being on an alien planet. “It’s… I can’t go when we’re moving,” he admitted. “I tried standing and sitting, and I just— I don’t know. I couldn’t relax.”

Kenneth had never even tried to pee in a moving vehicle before, it was a foregone conclusion that it would be impossible for him. He hadn’t expected Dwight to struggle with it, though. If Kenneth had a shy bladder, then Dwight had an extroverted one. More than once, Kenneth had been a little embarrassed by his friend’s tendency to just whip it out and pee whenever they were outside, no matter how many people were around. Although, if he were being honest, Kenneth felt not just embarrassment but perhaps a small touch of envy in those moments as well. His friend could get relief right away, without a moment’s thought to his surroundings. Meanwhile, Kenneth would be stuck holding it and holding it until a secluded space presented itself, and then still he’d normally need Dwight to come rub his back and soothe him into going…

Oh.

“How about I help you?” Kenneth asked softly. “Like, how you help me? Do you think that would make it better?”

Dwight was willing to try anything to get this piss out of himself, and he nodded. “Yeah. Okay,” he said graciously. “But, let’s try it in the toilet in the back of the train?”

Kenneth had thought Dwight would want the shortest walk possible! “Wh—“

“I just… I don’t want Bryce to see us go into the restroom together…” Dwight said.

“Oh, okay.”

Shortly, the two were in the restroom. Dwight had suffered more than a little bit of leakage on the walk there, but rather than dismay he felt hopeful— Maybe since he’d started going in his pants he’d finally be able to let it out!

It was a tight fit for the both of them, though. Even with as small as they were, there wasn’t much space. They didn’t need too much space though, Dwight didn’t think. He unzipped and aimed, hoping his pee would spray out automatically like it usually did. Of course, that wasn’t what happened, though. “Nnnnhhh…”

“It’s okay,” Kenneth said, gripping his friend’s shoulders. “I’ve got you. I’ll keep you nice and steady.”

Some of the tension in Dwight’s body loosened then, Kenneth felt his shoulders slacken ever so slightly. Still, his bladder remained taut and full.

“I’ve got you,” Kenneth repeated. “Um… Breathe in now.”

Dwight did.

“Let it out.”

Dwight exhaled.

Kenneth tightened his grip, “Breathe in.”

Inhale.

“Breathe out.”

Exhale.

Kenneth continued instructing Dwight to breathe, holding onto him tightly, and trying to make the bumps beneath their feet feel a little less jarring.

The deluge began suddenly; A gush of clear, hot urine hissed in a rapid torrent into the toilet. Dwight’s head dropped forward and his eyelids fluttered blearily as a groan fell from his lips. The sound of Dwight’s pleasure-filled, almost perverse moaning told Kenneth that it was a good thing Bryce hadn’t seen them enter this space together— Who knew what ideas he’d come up with when he heard that!

Dwight’s bladder kept pouring away, bliss flooding every nerve and synapse, the wondrous sensations of release practically overwhelming him. After a few more seconds of intense, nonstop spraying, Dwight realized that Kenneth was holding him. Kenneth was holding him, and rubbing his shoulders, and speaking so very softly into his ear. So much affection from Kenneth was rare, and hearing his friend talk in anything below a shout was rarer still. Fluffy, tender feelings crashed down upon Dwight, and it made the relief of finally peeing after such a long hold feel even better.

The spill continued to build in intensity, showing no sign of stopping any time soon. Kenneth didn’t comment on it, simply continued standing there and holding his friend until at last Dwight’s firehose petered out and the final drips had fallen.

“Better?” Kenneth asked, just as Dwight always had for him.

“Yes, that’s a lot better,” Dwight said as he zipped up. “Thank you. I needed that.” He wondered if Kenneth would be okay with a hug… He badly wanted to wrap his arms around Kenneth and pull him into a tight embrace. Purely out of gratitude of course, he told himself. Nothing else.

To his surprise though, Kenneth was the one to hug him. “I hope you’re not sore later, Dwight,” he said. “And, if this happens again on the way back, you know where to find me.”

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10 hours ago, astralis said:

SEGA. BRUH. I saw "Bryce and Kenneth were handcuffed together" and I sat up straight so fast lmao but THEN. BUD. Fuck. I had no idea it was gonna get Soft and I just???? I'm crying lol this was beautiful tysm :') Bryce really said 'I'm gonna help Kenneth piss in front of me' and I feel God in this Chili's tonight. 

Heh, I had a feeling you'd like this one! Thanks! 

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This one was, again, inspired by a writing prompt on Tumblr. 

***

Kenneth did not like going to the bar. It made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way they smelled; the harsh odor of alcohol often mixed with cigarette smoke. It was the stench that clung to his Father like spots clung to a leopard. Nothing good ever came from that smell.

Kenneth did not drink, a fact that netted him plenty of teasing from Bryce. Even if Kenneth abstained from alcohol, he was still often required to tag along when Bryce and others who served underneath him visited the bar.

Being in the bar, having to inhale the stench of alcohol, it brought back a whole host of memories that Kenneth wished would just stay buried.

Dwight did not drink either. He only did so one time, but seeing the way Kenneth looked at him after a night of intoxication, like he didn’t know for certain if he could be trusted anymore; It made Dwight decide never to do it again. Dwight couldn’t recall what all he’d done while under the influence, he didn’t know if he’d done anything bad, and Kenneth hadn’t told him. The look in his eyes had been enough to make Dwight decide that a few drinks wasn’t worth Kenneth’s worry that he may turn into an abrasive alcoholic like his Father had been.

The issue was that being the only two sober people in a bar wasn’t very fun. Especially not when one of the people drinking was their superior.  Bryce didn’t get any meaner than he usually was when he drank, at least. “Paulson,” Bryce said, slurring the word. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

Kenneth glanced at the empty water glasses that lay in front of him, and the single still-full one in his hand. “No, Bryce,” he said. “I am fine.”

“Real men drink, Paulson,” Bryce said. “Stop being such a pansy.”

“You are the one always saying I should present myself better while in uniform, so why are you getting drunk while in yours!?”

“I’m not drunk, Paulson,” Bryce said, though the way he was wobbling said otherwise. “I’m just having fun.”

Kenneth took another sip from his water, more as a way to avoid responding than out of a need to quench his thirst. Because, if there was one thing Kenneth wasn’t in that moment, it was thirsty. He was hydrated enough for five people, and his bladder had made it very clear that it wasn’t very happy about that fact.

This was another reason he hated it when he had to go to the bar with everyone else; He still at least had to drink something so he could avoid feeling too awkward, and these soirees would typically last many, many hours; well into the night. Add to that the restroom at the bar was the furthest thing from ‘private’ and Kenneth would always leave feeling like a small poke to his middle would genuinely cause him to explode into ten thousand pieces.

In spite of how he’d prepared for this, not drinking anything all day, and relieving his bladder seconds before he’d needed to leave, he had once again found himself in a very bad place. When Dwight sat beside him and set down his own glass of water, Kenneth’s eyes fixated upon it against his will; as the water sloshed ever so slightly in the glass, the liquid inside of Kenneth’s bladder seemed to move in time with it.

“I know you hate coming here,” Dwight said quietly. “But, look on the bright side. Maybe Bryce will get so drunk he embarrasses himself again, and we can make fun of him for the next three weeks, at least.

Kenneth tried to force a smile.

Dwight assumed Kenneth’s fidgeting was because the odor of the alcohol laden beverages was bothering him. Dwight had heard that smell was one of the most primitive of the senses, and that nothing could bring back a memory quite as fast as a smell associated with that memory. It made sense Kenneth would be on edge when surrounded by the smell of his monstrous Father.

Kenneth shifted in his seat a little as he turned to Dwight. He lowered his voice; “How much longer do you think we’ll have to stay here?”

Dwight shrugged. “You know how Bryce gets, it could be a few more hours. I’m sorry.” Dwight tried to distract Kenneth from what he was certain was only the scent of the bar.

Kenneth tried to pay attention to the words Dwight was saying, but he couldn’t manage it. All he could think about was how, even if Bryce did get so wasted he humiliated himself, Kenneth was at risk of being even more embarrassed tonight; He imagined himself being one of the only sober people in this building, yet still managing to be the only one to leave it with urine soaked clothes.

He chewed on his pinky as he tried to come up with a way to avoid that fate. But, the image of himself flooding his uniform and the barstool he was sitting in was becoming more and more clear in his mind’s eye. Perhaps, he could go outside somewhere? Pee against the wall of the building? It was late, very dark and few people around. Maybe he could do that?

His bladder sent a sharp twinge that made him cross his legs; It seemed to think that that was a fine idea! But, Kenneth hated himself for even thinking of it. There were perfectly fine toilets not but a short walk from his current position, yet he was thinking of urinating onto a wall like an animal instead? And really, who was he kidding? He couldn’t just let it flow on a public street, no matter how deserted that street may be. He knew what would happen; He’d lock up, smash his hand into his bladder to no avail, and leave a handful of minutes later feeling so frustrated he could scream, and so desperate he could cry.

No. He would not do it. It would be a waste of time. But, even in the few short minutes he’d spent thinking that awful plan over, his kidneys had continued pumping more and more water into a bladder that could no longer accommodate more liquid. Without really thinking, he slid himself off the barstool. His short stature had meant his feet did not even come close to touching the ground when he’d been in it, and when they hit the ground tremors of need ricocheted up the lines of his legs and pummeled his bladder with no mercy. “Nnnh!” he whined aloud, skipping in place with his eyes scrunched tight.

Dwight watched his display and realized that it wasn’t just the smell of alcohol that was causing Kenneth so much discomfort. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution as he watched his friend’s hips twist and his weight rock back and forth upon his heels. “Kenneth, do you—“

“B—Be back in a minute!” Kenneth said, walking a little twistedly through the crowd. He didn’t know what he was doing, he knew this wouldn’t work, he knew he’d only make himself angry… Still, he tried to allow himself a tiny glimmer of hope as he flung open the door to the men’s room. Please, he thought. Please, let me do this. It’s an emergency.

This was, perhaps, the single worst public restroom Kenneth could have picked to try this impulsive little ‘experiment’ in. The urinals were visible from the doorway, and none of them had a partition between them. Three men were stood at them, blissfully letting go as Kenneth tried to block out the sounds of their streams.

One urinal remained between two of the guys, but Kenneth wasn’t even going to try that. He couldn’t even manage that sort of thing in his wildest dreams. Literally. He’d had numerous dreams— nightmares, really— in which he’d been absolutely bursting to pee, and the only available place to do it was in a urinal between two people he didn’t even know. In his dreams, the people beside him would always gush implausibly loudly, moaning with relief as he begged and pleaded with his body and mind to just let him do the same thing. Sometimes, the urinals would even be on a big stage somewhere. Every time he woke up from such a dream, his bladder would feel on the verge of rupturing, and he’d barely manage to hobble to the restroom in time.

He had a feeling that the dream wasn’t merely letting him know that, in the waking world, his bladder was getting full. It was probably trying to tell him something else, too. 

Kenneth stumbled on shaky legs past the urinals towards the stalls. He stepped inside the first one and turned to lock it… But the lock had been broken off. The second stall didn’t have a door at all, obviously the result of some kind of vandalism. The third stall had a lock, but also a window, because clearly Kenneth had managed to piss off a very incompetent architect in one of his past lives or something. Still, Kenneth decided the third stall was his best bet. He fumbled the lock into place, unclasped his belt, fought with his buttons for a few maddening seconds, then yanked down his zip. Finally, free to pee to his heart’s content, his sphincters decided it was time to remember how to hold it in.

His bladder cramped and spasmed, angered by the fact a toilet was now within Kenneth’s field of vision, yet still not being used. Kenneth winced and shuddered, dreading what he was about to do to himself, but knowing it was the only hope he had left. He smashed his hand against his lower abdomen as hard as he could. The pain that followed this was enough to make him yelp out loud as he fought not to double over on himself. His middle felt like it was made of stone, and his hand was like a sledgehammer attempting to shatter it. But, the sledgehammer was not powerful enough. All it could do was scrape the stone, not destroy it. All Kenneth could do was make his bladder hurt worse, not empty it.

He felt his eyes begin to sting as he dug his hand into his flesh harder and harder, praying for a miracle; Please, God. Just a drop. Just one drop, that’s all I’m asking!

But, he couldn’t have even that. The alcohol smell was strong even in here, and the scent of nicotine was more powerful inside the restroom than anywhere else. The stench swirled around Kenneth, penetrated his nostrils and worked its way into his brain; What would Father say to him if he were alive to see him in this wretched of a state? What would Father do to him?

“Christ, brat…” Father had said so many times. “Do you think I am standing here for my fucking health? You have five seconds to piss, and if you don’t do it, there will be all Hell to pay. Do you understand me?!”

And, young Kenneth would tremble and shake, so overcome with equal parts terror and urgency, mushing his little hand into his rock hard bladder, begging it to empty so that Father wouldn’t beat him and he wouldn’t have to suffer the shame of another accident later on.

But, it never worked. It never, ever worked. Nothing ever worked.

In the present, Kenneth tried to shake off the memories, he tried to shake off the fear flooding his veins, he tried to shake off the immense shame pulsing through his mind. But, he couldn’t do any of it. And, he especially couldn’t pee.

It took him several seconds of harsh breathing to stabilize himself enough to zip back up. He hobbled back out of the restroom, wincing when he once again heard streams spraying the urinals.

Within a few minutes, he was back beside Dwight. Dwight took one look at Kenneth’s red face, sweaty body and disheveled hair and knew something had to be done. His friend was miserable and the sight made Dwight’s chest tighten. He had to get Kenneth out of here. Had to get him somewhere else. Anywhere else.

“Ohh,” Bryce said. His voice was even more off-kilter than it had been previously. He turned to the man he’d been chatting to. “This guy…” he flung a hand towards Kenneth. “This is the guy… Paulson, I was just telling…. Uh…”

“Hank,” the man supplied.

“Hank, yeah. I was just telling Hank about how obnoxious you are,” Bryce said.

Kenneth didn’t rise to Bryce’s bait. The insult barely even registered to his ears. All he could hear was the frantic shrieking in his own mind; “GOTTA PEE! GOTTA PEE! GOTTA PEE!” His knees turned inwards towards each other and he rubbed them together as pang after pang pulsed through his body.

“Lemme tell you, Hank,” Bryce said. “Paulson’s got a set of pipes like you wouldn’t believe. If you get him mad, he can yell so loud you’re gonna wish you could shove ice-picks into your ears just to make it stop.”

Kenneth stuffed a hand into his pocket, maneuvering it until he could kind of get a grip on his dick as he stepped in place.

“And, his voice…” Bryce continued. “He is seriously just…So shrill. Five minutes listening to this guy yell, and you’ll have the migraine from Hell, I’m telling you.”

Dwight looked to Kenneth and shrugged. “Sorry… I don’t mind your voice,” he assured.

Bryce raised his glass to his lips and took a sip; “Seriously, just listening to him scream and complain for thirty seconds could have you head for the hills, really.”

Kenneth seized upon that last sentence. He realized something; Sure, maybe there were a lot of things he couldn’t do. He couldn’t reach stuff in high places. He couldn’t lift anything that was particularly heavy. He couldn’t pee while in earshot of other people… But, he did have his talents; He could be loud as absolute Hell and let absolutely everyone in his immediate vicinity know what he wanted, and that they’d better give it to him if they knew what was good for them.

“Dwight,” Kenneth said. “I have a plan.”

Dwight looked around, “You aren’t going to try and prank Bryce again, are you? I know he’s saying mean stuff about you, but—“

“No,” Kenneth interrupted. “It doesn’t involve Bryce. But, even if it works, I still might need you to help me. So, come along, please.”

“…Okay,” Dwight said after a moment.

As Kenneth led Dwight towards the back of the bar, every step he took bounced his bladder as if it were on a rollercoaster. His heart pounded as he hoped that this would work. That this would give him what he needed. He was so close to his limit now, and before he made it to the door, the first leak had already slipped out. He removed his hand from his pocket, squeezed himself properly and jiggled up and down as he tried to both curtail his leak and psyche himself up.

“Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I know, you need to go really bad. But, I can’t follow you into a stall in a crowded public restroom and help you. It wouldn’t look right. Let’s try and find you somewhere outside.”

“Mmmaybe,” Kenneth squeaked out, finally managing to get his spurting back under control. “I want to try something else first, though.” Kenneth was being weirdly cryptic, and now Dwight was concerned his friend was going to try and murder everyone in there so he could piss in private.

But, Kenneth didn’t get violent. Dwight’s confusion only grew with what Kenneth did. Kenneth shoved open the door with enough force it slammed against the wall and bounced back off of it. Then, he opened his mouth and launched into a rant.

Kenneth ranted a lot. Dwight had never minded it. Kenneth had a way of empowering words with such a devil-may-care attitude that his long, rambling speeches about the various things that had annoyed him could usually get Dwight to start to feel something as well.

But, the rant Kenneth had begun now had very little in common with his many, seemingly endless diatribes about how much he hated mosquitos, or how Bryce was an asshole, or anything like that.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! I’VE GOTTA TAKE A MASSIVE FREAKING FIRE-HOSE PISS!” Kenneth yelled at the top of his voice.

What the absolute fuck? was Dwight’s first thought upon hearing that. Usually, Kenneth did everything to avoid saying he had to pee. Instead, he’d say something like “There is an issue I must attend to.” Something that really beat around the bush and could honestly mean anything at all. The fact that a phrase like ‘I’ve gotta take a massive freaking fire-hose piss’ even existed in Kenneth’s vocabulary was a bit of a surprise.

“MY BLADDER IS ON THE VERGE OF RUPTURE, I AM GOING TO FREAKING EXPLODE!” Kenneth continued yelling about how badly he had to pee for a few seconds. The man whom was at the sink gave him a strange, perplexed look and exited. The men at the urinals quickly finished and hurried out. A man that had been on his way to a stall just kind of froze and backed out of the room.

And then, Dwight understood what Kenneth’s angle was.

The room was empty.

When Kenneth realized that, he dashed for a stall and instructed Dwight to assist him as usual, just in case there was still a problem. But, Kenneth didn’t need too much help, just a few seconds of gentle shoulder-rubs and his stream was blasting into the water. “Ohhhh, God, that feels good…” Kenneth murmured. And, it did. Not just the relief of no longer needing to hold back this enormous flood, but the knowledge that he’d used his… ‘unique’ skills to get himself the privacy he needed.

As more and more liquid exited his bladder and splashed into the bowl, Kenneth’s body started to shiver. He knew he shouldn’t take this much pleasure in a basic biological function, but for whatever reason whenever he got a chill while mid-pee, the pleasurable sensation that cascaded over him was just mind-numbing with how good it was. He moaned as the intense feeling swept through him.

Dwight stroked his shoulders some more, “So…” he said. “Um… That?”

Between panting sighs, Kenneth explained. He’d needed to speak a little loudly to be heard over the rush of liquid still spraying full force from his tip. “Got them to leave. So I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed trying to pee around them.”

Dwight blinked a few times, “So wait, it’s NOT embarrassing to—“

Ahhhh…” Kenneth groaned again. He could practically feel his bloated bladder beginning to shrink back down to its proper size. Somehow, the relief continued to get better and better. It just kept coming and coming, so light and so freeing. He barely knew what to do with himself, all he could do was moan and take it all in.

His stream came to an abrupt finish and he shook himself off before putting his uniform back together.

“…That better?” Dwight asked after an awkward silence.

“Yes. Much relieved,” Kenneth said.

“Well, that’s good…” Dwight trailed off, waiting for the pin to drop. And, he thought. Three… Two…—

“Oh my God…” Kenneth said suddenly. “I can’t believe I said that!”

There it is, Dwight thought.

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Dwight and Kenneth had been tasked with taking inventory of the ammunition for their various weapons. Kenneth knew that Bryce only made them do this so often to keep them busy and out of his way, and he was pretty sure Dwight knew that as well. So, rarely did they actually count out all the bullets, they’d just write a random number down at the end of the day instead. Bryce never actually checked if it was accurate or not.

So, instead of completing their pointless task, the two just sat and talked to each other. It was strange that, even after knowing one another as long as they had, they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. They talked about how much of an ass Bryce was. They talked about their dreams for the future— Kenneth in particular could go off on long-winded speeches about how badly he wanted to go live somewhere bright and sunny by the ocean. They talked about their favorite memories together. They talked about Kenneth’s new favorite thing.

Kenneth had recently discovered a particular kind of orange soda that he really loved. It was so sweet and fizzy, and the flavor was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The fact they were able to get several cans of it here had been a delight to Kenneth; and he’d downed so many of them that morning. He loved the way the bubbles felt on his tongue, and the way it fizzed all the way down his throat.

As they talked about it though, Kenneth realized he may have really overdone it on the sodas. He couldn’t actually remember how many cans he’d had to drink; He’d started guzzling them basically from the instant he’d woken up and then only stopped because Dwight had reminded him it would be difficult to get more and so he shouldn’t run through them so fast.

He tried to remember… Okay; One when he woke up… One while he waited for Dwight to finish in the restroom… One after he got dressed… One more while he shined his boots… Then another as he walked out of the barrack… And another when Dwight was scolding him to slow down… Then, one more after he and Dwight had come to a compromise.

He nervously counted it up on his fingers; Seven. He’d had seven of them. Seven big cans of fizzy liquid. His knees knocked against each other; How could he have done this? He knew he’d be here ‘working’ all day, he knew he had difficulties with emptying his bladder, how could he have been stupid enough to drink so much?

But, he remembered his new strategy to get everyone out of a public restroom so he could pee via yelling bizarre things until they got uncomfortable and left. He’d just do that again, he decided. “I… Must attend to something,” Kenneth informed Dwight, standing up and briskly walking off.

Dwight was a little confused he hadn’t been asked to accompany his friend; He knew that sayings like “I must attend to something” were just how Kenneth said that he needed to take a pee break, and would have figured he’d want help relaxing like always. Maybe he just wanted to give it a try by himself today, Dwight thought. He wouldn’t press the issue.

Kenneth was soon to learn that his new tactic was not always going to have the desired results. When the occupants he hoped to remove were all strangers to him, then yes his angry screaming and threats were enough to get them to back off. But, when he was dealing with people he knew, it was not going to work at all.

Because, everyone who knew Kenneth knew that he was basically a particularly angry chihuahua that had been given a human body through some strange twist of fate; He had weirdly large eyes, was tiny, and while he may have shouted and made a great deal of noise, he was nowhere near strong enough to pose an actual threat to anyone. He was all bark and no bite.

When Kenneth entered the restroom, his bladder nervously tingling beneath his belt, he tried to use his new strategy on Bryce and some of the other guards. He mustered up the full power of his shrill voice, and shouted out the most vulgar, discomfort-inducing thing he could come up with; “I GOTTA PISS SO FREAKING BADLY! BETTER LEAVE NOW, OR YOU’LL BE CAUGHT IN THE SPLASH-ZONE!

But, rather than any of them leaving him to his blessed privacy, they just laughed. “If you have to take a piss so damn bad, why don’t you go?” Bryce asked simply.

“I—I, um…” Kenneth tried to call back his angry, loud shouty voice, but now faced with the prospect of trying to relieve himself in such a crowded restroom, his nervousness took over instead. “N—Never mind,” he said, turning for the door and trying to block out the laughter he heard coming from behind him. He told himself this was okay, he didn’t even have to go that bad; Just… It would have been nice to have a pee right about now. But, he didn’t need it. He just wanted it. That was all.

He returned to Dwight and sat back down, before gnawing on his index finger. Dwight noticed immediately and knew that Kenneth’s attempt to relieve his bladder had been unsuccessful. “Kenneth?” Dwight asked. “Do you need something?” He always had to be so careful about asking Kenneth if he was ready for his assistance; One wrong word and Kenneth would become defensive and insist he didn’t need to go at all, then force himself to endure until he was full enough to start leaking. It was always simpler to wait for Kenneth to come to him and ‘demand’ help.

Kenneth preferred to ‘demand’ it. He used a commanding tone and usually finished his requests with something like “And that is an order!” as if he were forcing Dwight to do this against his will. Dwight was pretty sure Kenneth understood that he would always help, that he didn’t need to speak in such a firm tone, but decided it was probably Kenneth’s desire to feel like he had control in an uncontrollable situation. Kenneth may not have been able to command his bladder to empty, but he could command Dwight to help him, and perhaps that made it less humiliating to him.

“N—Need something?” Kenneth repeated, plucking his finger from his teeth.

“Yeah, is there... something you’d like to do?” Dwight tried again, pointedly trying to avoid using the word ‘need’. In Kenneth’s world, to have a need was to have a weakness.

“Oh, yes,” Kenneth nodded now, and Dwight smiled. He’d used the right words; Ones that wouldn’t make Kenneth shut down and hide his fragility behind his egotism. “Yes, I would…” he lowered his voice, even though he and Dwight were the only two people around to hear him. “I would very much like to… to relieve myself.”

“Okay,” Dwight said, trying to act like he’d been unable to tell that Kenneth had to go. “Would you like me to—“

“And I order you to assist me!” Kenneth added, louder now. “If you know what is good for you, you will find me somewhere private at once, and—“

“I will, I will,” Dwight said. “Come on.” He stood and Kenneth followed.

Kenneth felt much better now. He’d started to get worried he’d have to hold it in for too long again, that he would once more find himself filled to the brim with urine and have no way to release it. But, Dwight was here, and Dwight always made it better. Kenneth was gonna get to go before it became an emergency.

Or, so he thought.

When they stepped outside, Bryce was waiting for them. “What are you two doing?” Bryce demanded. “Have you completed your task?”

“…Yes,” Kenneth said after a moment’s hesitation.

“I doubt that,” Bryce shook his head. “You know, last week we ran out of bullets for one of the guns much sooner than we should have. I believe a mistake was made while you were counting, so it’s in the best interest of everyone that I observe you this time and make sure you do it correctly— I am stunned that you are both so stupid you can’t even count, but with me there I’m sure you’ll remember how to do it.”

“Okay,” Dwight said. “You can do that, but first we need a restroom break.”

“Paulson was just in the restroom,” Bryce said. “Sure, he didn’t use it, but that still counts for his break.”

I haven’t had one yet, though,” Dwight said.

“I don’t care,” Bryce said. “You have work to do. And, if you give me an inaccurate number again, there will be consequences.”

Kenneth’s heart sank, and he hoped they could get this asinine task completed quickly. “Bryce, counting hundreds of bullets by hand is dumb, and you’re dumb for making us do it.”

“That’s a pretty rude way to talk to someone you’re wanting a favor from, wouldn’t you say, you little moronic gnat?”

Dwight sighed, not wanting to be caught up in one of their arguments again. “We’ll probably count better if we don’t have to pee.”

“Or, perhaps a full bladder is the motivation you need to get the job done properly,” Bryce suggested. “Come along now, get back to work.”

Kenneth and Dwight re-entered the storage building. Kenneth grimaced when he saw the huge sack of ammunition on the table. It would take forever to count all that! He sat down, and his belt compressed his bladder, reminding him rather harshly that for some reason he’d thought it would be a good idea to chug down seven cans of soda in under an hour.

It hadn’t felt like too much of an emergency a few minutes ago, when he’d thought relief was right around the corner. But, now that he had to hold it for who knew how long, his urge was cataclysmically strong.  He shifted in his seat, shimmying his hips and tapping one of his feet. He was beginning to feel a bit of panic, his need was building and building at an alarming rate. It was as if just the mere knowledge that he had no choice but to keep it all inside of himself was enough to make it feel more urgent.

Half an hour later, and nowhere near finished with Bryce’s pointless busywork, Kenneth was twisting and shuddering in his chair. His belt felt like its true purpose surely must have been to be used as some sort of wicked, bladder-squeezing torture device. He was being forced to take the shortest, most shallow breaths he could as just inhaling too far squished the sensitive walls of his bladder, made his sphincters pulse and beg him for permission to slacken.

He’d bitten his fingers so much that one of them now sported a gash, his legs were so tightly coiled around one another that they’d begun to tingle from the lack of decent blood-flow. Sweat was pouring off of him in waves, which he hoped would help prevent his bladder from filling any further, but by that point it wouldn’t have made much of a difference; the torment assailing his midsection no longer felt like something of this Earth; It now felt wholly unnatural, like a punishment from a cruel and vengeful spirit.

At some point, he’d begun to hold himself with one hand, an action that had slowed down his progress at counting out the ammo tremendously. Not that he could count at all, anyway. His mind was so utterly devoid of any thought that didn’t involve finding somewhere to release the pressure inside his body, that he’d actually managed to momentarily forget what came after two hundred fifty three.

His hand was pressing itself firmly into his groin, and he bucked his hips forwards into the pressure, hoping to take at least a tiny percentage of the edge off his desperation; But, it didn’t work. He needed to go, and he needed to go immediately.

Beside him, Dwight was trying to count as fast as he possibly could. Kenneth’s trembling and the tiny, whimpering whines that he couldn’t stop himself from making were seriously concerning him. This was, perhaps, the most desperate he’d ever seen his friend get, and that was really saying something.

“Br—Bryce!” Kenneth cried out. “I can’t concentrate!”

“Not my problem,” Bryce informed, lazily turning a page in the book he’d been reading.

“There is something I must attend to,” Kenneth squeaked. “And, I— Ahhh!” he exclaimed as the first pulse of urine sprayed from his tip. It hadn’t been a small leak at all, it had felt enormous, like a hose turned on full-blast. “I—I really must take care of this! I will be better able to complete this afterwards!”

“Whatever you have to do,” Bryce said, as if Kenneth wasn’t currently doing what had to be the most blatant pee-dance in recorded history. “It will need to wait until you have finished.”

That could take at least another hour. Kenneth couldn’t wait an hour. He couldn’t wait a minute. After his first agonizing, bursting loss of control, three more had followed. He could feel his thighs growing damp and warm, and his hand pinched his opening closed tighter and tighter.

“Bryce,” Dwight said. “We’ll get done a lot faster if—“

“No.”

Kenneth’s second hand plunged down to join the first already buried between his legs. A second later he realized with some horror that he couldn’t move either of his hands now. They were the last barrier left separating his unbearable agony from transforming into total disgrace. “NnnnhNnnhh…” He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, wished that he could at least have the small mercy of being alone before he had the accident that now looked inevitable. Why did he have to drink so much soda?! Why?!

Leaks and dribbles continued to push their way past his weakening dam, each one stung his straining urethra on the way out. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t. He really, really couldn’t. He needed somewhere to go. Anywhere. He’d settle for literally anywhere. Just… He needed it out now!

But, Bryce was here! He’d gone in front of Bryce once before, yes. But, Bryce had been acting… Well, not like himself. He’d been trying to be nice, trying to apologize to Kenneth after realizing he’d gone too far… But, now Bryce was back to his usual assholery, if Kenneth tried to relieve himself somewhere in this room, Bryce would be obnoxious the whole time and do things that would make Kenneth’s shy bladder lock itself up tighter than the gates of Hell.

He had to get Bryce to leave. Then, he’d piss somewhere in this room. In a trash can, in a bottle, and if there weren’t any of those here he’d do it up against the freaking wall. To Hell with the consequences when Bryce inevitably came back and saw the stain he left. Nothing Bryce could do to punish him for urinating in an improper location could compare to the pain he was feeling now from not urinating at all.

He struggled to come up with a way to entice Bryce into getting lost. He writhed against his clenched hands, and to his horror another massive jet of pee shot from his tip. He pressed down harder and harder to stem his flood. “Dwight!” Kenneth whispered, harsh and raspy. “Please, I can’t do it anymore. It’s already… It’s coming out! Please, I gotta do it here somewhere, but Bryce is here— Please, please, please--

Dwight understood right away. He was a little nervous about trying to trick one of his superiors, but Kenneth had begged him. Kenneth never begged unless he literally could not do without the thing he needed a minute longer. Dwight thought fast; “Bryce,” he said.

“I already told you morons, no leaving this room until—“

“Well, it’s just that I… I, um… I heard something being knocked over outside,” Dwight said finally. “Didn’t you? Perhaps an enemy is here, attempting sabotage?” His heart pounded in his ears as he hoped Bryce bought it.

“… Alright,” Bryce said after a moment. “I’ll go check this out. But, if I come back and either one of you has snuck out the window, there will be Hell to pay.” And with that, he turned sharply on his heel, and walked off.

Even if Kenneth had wanted to sneak out the window, there was no way he could have done it. He was too short to reach it, for one. And, more importantly, all the squeezing would be way, way too much for his bladder. As Kenneth gingerly forced himself to his feet, losing a few more wayward streams along the way, Dwight went over to the door. He frowned when he realized it didn’t lock. “Sorry, there’s no lock,” he said. “But, if you have trouble, I can—“

Zzzzziiip!

Kenneth had yanked his zip down so quickly that the noise was loud enough to make Dwight go quiet. He was surprised Kenneth had found something to pee into so quickly— And then realized his friend had completely foregone that idea and had instead just darted for the closest wall… Which was now being hosed down relentlessly as Kenneth moaned his head off. “Ahhhh… Yesssss….” His eyelids began to flutter, then opened a little wider as he suddenly remembered that he would like a bit more privacy than this; In the moment, as he’d readied himself at the wall, he’d literally been so desperate to just unleash that no other stimuli could register to his brain. Now that he was letting it flow, his awareness of his surroundings had returned. “D-Dwight, please stand behind me while I go, okay?”

Dwight thought it was a little silly that Kenneth would ask for that now, since he’d already been peeing for several seconds, but did as was requested anyway. Being so close to Kenneth as he made all those relieved little noises always felt a bit intimate, but Dwight had never, ever heard Kenneth moan quite this much before. The sound of his piss spattering the wall was loud as Hell too, it hissed and splashed ferociously. Dwight thought it sounded more like he was standing beside an enormous water-ride than a guy emptying his bladder.

Dwight, of course, was aware of how much pee Kenneth could hold. He was aware of how, even when he was letting loose with such an extreme amount of force, it could take him a while to drain completely. As a minute passed, and Kenneth was still spraying like his life depended on it, Dwight began to worry that Bryce would return before Kenneth managed to finish. He considered telling Kenneth to hurry it up, but couldn’t imagine he was capable of pushing it out any harder than he already was, and telling him to cut it off midstream before Bryce came back would just be cruel and unusual.

Kenneth’s knees had begun to buckle underneath him, his entire body was turning into extremely relaxed liquid. He slumped against Dwight’s back, whom quickly turned around and began to support him by the shoulders. Dwight noticed Kenneth’s expression then, and saw he looked almost dazed. Kenneth shivered as though he was naked in Alaska, and his stream began to slow. Dwight hoped that meant he was nearly done; Ordinarily, when Kenneth’s body shook like that as he peed, it was because he was close to being finished. Good. Bryce wasn’t going to catch him midstr—

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Bryce yelled from the doorway.

Kenneth jumped, and his jelly-like limbs began to tighten back into their usual, tensed state. His stream ceased immediately, and a burning feeling assailed him; It felt like getting a burning hot poker shoved up his most intimate place, and he found he could not continue peeing.

“I—I—“ Kenneth stammered as he hurriedly zipped up. “I told you I had to take care of something,” he said. “You wouldn’t let me. I was out of options.”

“Great,” Bryce huffed. “Now, I have to smell your piss while I supervise you!”

“Um, well,” Dwight said. “Kenneth was super hydrated, so it doesn’t smell…that…strong…” he trailed off, getting quieter and quieter as he noticed Kenneth going red in face and shooting him a look that could kill.

“Get the fuck back to work,” Bryce commanded. “And tomorrow you’re cleaning that wall.”

Kenneth hadn’t been able to finish, he could still feel a bit of tingling in his midsection, and having been stopped midstream his muscles were really stinging; But, he no longer felt the threatening tremble that told him he was seconds away from peeing his uniform, so got back to work. He could hold what little still remained inside him until later. What he couldn’t hold back until later, though, was the embarrassment. He was disgusted with himself for doing something so totally desperate and dirty, and had to remind himself several times that it was either pissing on the wall or flooding his pants.

A couple hours later, Bryce accepted the tallies they’d taken on the ammunition and they were dismissed. Kenneth walked rather stiff-legged back to the barrack; His bladder had been very unhappy about its release being interrupted and had begun to once again issue him several urgent pangs. He was so relieved to lock himself in the private restroom and allow the remainder of his urine to slowly drain away. “Ahhh…” he breathed as he zipped himself back up afterwards. He exited and looked at the remaining cans of soda under his bed. It would probably do him well not to feed his addiction so generously any more.

“Dwight?” Kenneth asked. “Um… Don’t ever let me drink so many of those sodas again, okay? Even if I beg or threaten you, you have to promise you won’t let me do that to myself again.”

“Heh, okay Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I won’t.”

Kenneth absolutely would do that to himself again many, many times in the future. He just loved that soda. 

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  • 7 months later...

Okay, so I have a huge backlog of fiction updates to post to this site, but since I don't want to put up a ton all at once I'll just do a couple each day. (Like, one chapter for each story). You can view my AO3 account if you want to see more right away. (Link to that on my profile.)

*** 

Kenneth had not pissed in seventeen hours. 

He wished he was dead. 

He thought that, perhaps, he actually was dead and this was his punishment in Hell.

To spend eternity holding a bladder that refused to empty no matter what he did to try and force it to.

And, oh, how he’d tried to force it to. 

There was no reason this should have been happening. This was supposed to be a good weekend, a couple days of leisure just strolling through town. No responsibilities to attend to, no Bryce bothering him, nothing to cause him agony. He was supposed to have two nice days of just him and Dwight enjoying themselves!

But, they were staying in an inn. And, the walls of that building were very, very thin. Kenneth could hear people in all of the other rooms wherever he went, including the restroom. And, no matter what he did, his bladder would not ease and allow him to pee when he could hear such a racket! Kenneth had peed at the barrack before leaving Friday evening, hadn’t let out anything since then, and now it was mid-afternoon on Saturday. And, he’d had a lot of water and soda to drink in that time; Because he’d thought he’d be able to pee with no trouble! 

But, then he’d locked himself in his restroom, unzipped, realized how loud everyone was being, and that was it! He tried smooshing his bladder as hard as he could stand it, and then a little harder than that; He pressed against his swollen middle so forcefully he practically saw stars! But still, not even a drop. He tried to hold his breath, and did so until he became so lightheaded he nearly passed out. But still, not even a drop. He gave up then, no methods ever worked for him, and he’d tried plenty. 

He’d spoken to a doctor about his issue several times in the past, which was an absolutely humiliating thing to have to do. The doctor had given him many methods to test; One of which was the breath-holding thing that had failed him over and over and over again. Another suggestion was to try doing simple Math equations in his head. Allegedly, this was supposed to distract his brain enough that his pee would start flowing. 

Kenneth did give that a shot a few times, and it had backfired tremendously; He never did manage to pee by solving multiplication problems in his mind, oh no. No, instead, he’d tried to do it so many blasted times that now whenever he had to do Math in his day-to-day life, he became overcome with an urge to pee. He could seriously have a perfectly comfortable, empty feeling bladder, then be asked what eight times seven was and as he thought about it, he would suddenly feel like his bladder was gonna rupture. 

Kenneth had no clue who “Pavlov” was, but he knew that if he ever met the guy, he’d sock him in the face as hard as he could. 

Still, he had tried the multiplication thing a few times during the last seventeen Hellish hours. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t helped. 

He and Dwight were not sharing a room on this trip, a fact which Kenneth was none too happy about. It had been difficult enough trying to fall asleep last night while his bladder thrashed, he wished he could have at least had the comforting sounds of Dwight’s snores to lull him into a state of relaxation. 

He knew he should probably tell Dwight that he couldn’t pee, and that he needed help. But, he was ashamed to. It was one thing to ask for help when they were outside somewhere, or when he was attempting to use a urinal; Situations where someone really could walk in and see him gushing away, and it made sense he was feeling shy. But, it was another thing entirely to admit he couldn’t make himself use a private toilet that had a lock and a door and everything just because he could kind of hear the murmur of voices from elsewhere in the building. 

Which was why, when they went out to walk around town, Kenneth tried not to show any signs of need whatsoever. He even had to fight down the urge to engage in his nervous tick of knuckle-chewing, since he knew Dwight would recognize it and know what it meant. He didn’t intend to make himself hold it until Monday of course. Just… He was sure Dwight thought he'd peed right before leaving the inn, so he only had to wait until they’d been out long enough that it was reasonable he’d need to go again. Then, he could ask for help. 

Simple. 

But, there were still so many variables to consider. If there was nowhere suitable in town that Kenneth could relieve himself, Dwight would probably just bring him back to the inn to go… And he’d be back at square one of not being able to pee in that building, and being totally unwilling to admit to it. 

Not to mention, after over seventeen hours without a pee, hiding his urge until he felt ‘safe’ enough to request assistance wasn’t easy. As they walked, Kenneth couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. They kept creeping towards his crotch, and he’d have to stop them from pressing down. After which, they would immediately raise up to his mouth and he’d bite his lip to keep from chewing on them. He decided on just stuffing them into his pocket, where hopefully he could give himself a few, discreet squeezes. But, just as he was about to give that a shot, the weirdest thing happened. 

Dwight reached over and took hold of one of Kenneth’s hands. Then, gave it a squeeze. He didn’t say anything when he did this, he didn’t even look at Kenneth, just continued walking, as though nothing out of the ordinary was taking place. 

Kenneth’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears as he squeezed Dwight’s hand back… God, it felt so nice to squeeze SOMETHING as his bladder continued throbbing and pulsating. Kenneth’s eyes flicked around the area. A few people were nearby… “Dwight,” he whispered harshly. “What are you doing? Someone could see. They’d think—“ 

“Hey, brother,” Dwight said. “Remember when OUR parents tried to convince us that chocolate milk came from brown cows?” 

Kenneth was confused. He and Dwight were not related, and Kenneth’s Father would have never tried to amuse him with silly myths. “But, Dwight, we’re not brothe—“ 

“And remember when OUR parents grounded us for throwing a rock through someone’s window, when really it was the neighbor kid? OUR Dad said to me ‘Dwight, you’re the older BROTHER, you need to look after Kenneth since he’s younger and make sure he stays out of trouble.’” 

Kenneth blinked, fighting back a wicked pang of need from his midsection. He tried to understand what Dwight was saying, but his brain was so filled with the mantra of ‘PEE NOW!’ that it took him a few seconds to work it out; Dwight just wanted everyone around them to think they were holding hands because they were brothers. Kenneth supposed that they did look similar enough to pass for relatives, they were both short and fair-skinned, and had pointed noses. 

“O-Oh, yeah,” Kenneth said. “You are a great older brother.” He was a little annoyed Dwight had claimed to be the older one, when Kenneth was older by three months. And, he still didn’t understand why Dwight wanted to hold his hand so much, apparently enough to concoct a whole story to dissuade on-lookers from speculating about them. But, Kenneth liked the fact Dwight was holding his hand, not just because squeezing something was helping quell the fury from his bladder a little bit, but because Dwight’s hand was so warm. It had always been warm, and soft. It was a bit more calloused now, but it still had that soft, tender quality to it under the surface. 

This did mean that Kenneth had to walk at the same pace Dwight was, though. And, that wasn’t easy to do with a full bladder. Every step sent a harsh tremor through his feet and up the lines of his legs to clobber the walls of the bloated organ. He squeezed his thighs, and tucked his other hand into his pocket, straining to reach his cock. When he was able to give it a meager squeeze, the teensiest bit of the pressure faded away. 

Had it been long enough yet, Kenneth wondered. At most, it had been an hour since they’d left the inn. Was it reasonable to think he’d need a pee break so soon? Maybe… Maybe he could say he just ‘forgot’ to go before they left, rather than admit that he’d been unable to. Yeah, that could work. “D—Dwight, I—“ 

Before Kenneth could get the words out, Dwight was tugging him off. “Oh, let’s try this cafe,” he said. Kenneth hadn’t expected to suddenly be pulled in the opposite direction, and as he scrambled to catch his footing, his boots harshly thwacked the pavement and the impact coaxed a few spurts of liquid into his boxers.

When he bore down on his holding muscles, fighting to plug the leak as though his bladder were a boat about to sink in the middle of the ocean, he tried to be hopeful. The cafe would have a restroom. Maybe even one he could use! Maybe, it would be nice and quiet, and his bladder would decide not to clam up and get stage-fright as though it were an aspiring politician being told to deliver a rousing speech to thousands of potential voters. Perhaps instead, it would remember that it was just an organ, and that its purpose was to contain urine and, most importantly, EXPEL it once it had been brought to an appropriate place. 

Kenneth was not so lucky though. The cafe was crowded. So crowded that, when he spotted the restroom, there was a massive line for it. His heart sank, and from the surplus of throbs that began to radiate in waves within his midsection, Kenneth was pretty sure his heart sank until it was perched on top of his bladder and had begun to violently kick it. There was only one thing that could make Kenneth’s shy bladder worse than it was to begin with, and that was knowing someone was waiting on him to finish. 

It wasn’t that he was worried about drawing out another person’s desperation— He’d always be so caught up in his own that he couldn’t spare a thought for someone else’s. But, instead, the knowledge that someone was so close, waiting on him, growing impatient… It was all too much like what his Father had done. All the screaming insults of “Hurry it up, you little brat! You’re wasting my time with this bullshit!” would return to flood Kenneth’s mind, and he would become convinced that that was exactly what the person waiting on him was thinking, too. 

His mind would concoct detailed, horrible fantasies about what the other person was thinking of him. “What is taking that guy so long? He’s been standing there for twenty minutes! I don’t even think I hear a stream! He must have a serious problem, how dumb does a person have to be to not know how to take a piss? What a freak!” 

He knew that, realistically, very few people would be thinking that way. But, knowing that didn’t stop his brain from supplying him with more and more potential insults and comments that could be hurled his way if he didn’t hurry up and pee. Which, in turn, would make it even more impossible to let anything flow. 

It was worse when someone knocked on the door. If someone knocked on the door, that was just… It. He would zip up immediately, splash some water on his hands, and shamefully slink out of the room. 

So, upon seeing the line for the toilet, and hearing the crowd that had already congregated in the cafe, Kenneth knew that he would not be peeing any time soon. 

But, God… He just… Had to! He had to so much! It felt like a watermelon was smooshing against all of his other organs. The skin over his bladder was pulled taut, like a rubber band stretched to the limit. Even with his uniform on, he could sort of see the bulge that had formed there, and worried someone else could see it, too. Kenneth was so thin, and the bump didn’t look like it belonged at all. 

If someone noticed, would they know it was his bladder? Would they wonder why in the world he was holding so much? Or, would they think he had some kind of horrible tumor? 

Dwight released Kenneth’s hand, and without thinking, Kenneth immediately tucked it between his legs. Ohhhh, relief…. Just finally holding himself felt like a reward he’d waited years to earn. But, after a second, the pressure returned, and his other hand tore itself out of his pocket to join the battle. 

Dwight had found a table, and when he turned around to look for Kenneth, Kenneth quickly removed his hands and stuck them behind his back, like a kid caught taking candy they weren’t allowed to have. Dwight waved him over, and Kenneth shuffled his way through the crowd. He’d hoped sitting down would alleviate some of the pressure, but it didn’t. It just made it worse. His bladder felt like it was being run through a taffy puller, his belt squishing it and the change in position stretching its walls. A single drop flew from his tip, and he was grateful for the cover of the table because now he could hold himself again. 

“You look a little pale,” Dwight said. “We were walking for a while. Let me get you something to drink.” 

More liquid was the last thing Kenneth wanted. “N—No, I’m fine!” he said. His teeth were chattering, grinding against each other. He wanted to chew his hands; God, he wanted to bite something! 

Dwight gave him an odd look. “You’re sweating,” he said. “You need water. Hold on.” He stood from his seat and left. 

Kenneth allowed his head to fall against the table, he shut his eyes tight, both hands kneading his crotch as his legs twisted around beneath him. He didn’t want water. He couldn’t fit any more water. There was no room left. None at all. It already felt like he should have had liquid coming out of his ears and nostrils, where the Hell was he supposed to put more of it? 

Dwight returned a few minutes later with two glasses of water. He looked at Kenneth and knew he’d gotten him a drink just in time. Kenneth got dehydrated pretty fast, and the effects it had seemed to be extreme. Poor thing was so out of sorts he couldn’t lift his head up! “Here you go,” Dwight said, placing the glass in front of his friend. “Drink up, you’ll feel better.” 

Kenneth was positive if he allowed even one drop of that water down his throat, he would feel so far from ‘better’ that he wouldn’t even be in the same zip-code. “Nn—No,” he said again. 

“You have to,” Dwight said, unsure why Kenneth was acting like this. “I know, it’s not that soda you like so much. But, they don’t have that here, I checked. And, you’re obviously dehydrated, so just have the water. Maybe we can find you some soda somewhere else.” 

Kenneth cringed. He didn’t want to make Dwight worry, so he forced himself to sit up a little more, painfully dragged one hand away from his dick, and grabbed the water. When he brought it to his lips, he hesitated, finding it difficult to force his mouth to open. His bladder spasmed violently, like it was screaming at him ‘No! Please! I can’t! No more!’ 

He managed to part his lips, and began to take in the water. He was surprised by how refreshing it felt pouring over his tongue and down his throat. He hadn’t thought it possible he could actually be dehydrated when so much water already had to come out, but the way his senses jumped to the water in his mouth, he now realized how much he needed it. 

But, his middle was convulsing already, protesting the addition of new liquid when he was still so far from being able to deal with the old. Once the glass was empty, Dwight said “See? Told you. Feel better?” 

Kenneth didn’t feel better; His throat was less dry, but that was about it. His bladder was still a swollen, hard rock that commanded all of his attention. He nodded anyway, though. 

“You’re quiet,” Dwight noted. “Oh, is it the crowd?” 

Kenneth nodded again. Whatever. It was as good an explanation as any. 

“That’s okay, we can go somewhere else. Anywhere you wanted to go?” 

‘Yes,’ Kenneth thought. ‘Somewhere quiet with a private toilet!’ But, instead he said; “N—No, I’m not familiar enough with the area. You pick.” 

It was so unlike Kenneth to not try and take command of everything they did… “Are you feeling okay?” 

“N—Never better!” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Sure I’m sure! Nothing is wrong, everything is fine. I…” His mouth snapped shut, his teeth ground together so hard he was probably gonna wear them down to nubs. His feet continued sliding around the floor, his legs bouncing, his hands clutching. It was getting worse than bad now; Sometimes, when Kenneth had to pee this catastrophically urgently, the pain would not confine itself to his bladder. It would begin to move upwards. It would begin to reverberate in horrific waves through his lower back, the focal point being just beneath his ribcage. That was what was happening now. “Nnnnnnhhh!!!” he exclaimed through his clenched teeth. 

“Kenneth, what’s—“ 

“I haven’t peed in almost nineteen hours!” Kenneth announced, way, way too loudly. People at other tables were staring, and he felt his face practically catch fire as embarrassment doused him like a bucket of cold water. 

Dwight stared for a moment. He had to…go? But, he hadn’t been chewing on his hands? And… “Nineteen hours!?” 

Kenneth gave a miserable nod. 

“But… No, that can’t be right.” 

“I’m living it.” 

“You would be in agony!” 

“What do you THINK I’m feeling right now!?” 

Dwight sighed, realizing that yeah, that had been a dumb thing to say. Kenneth looked like he was well passed the point of agony. “Why!?” 

“Can’t go at the inn,” Kenneth admitted at last, so overcome by need that his pride basically fell off a five hundred foot tall cliff and died on impact. “Too noisy there.” 

“Oh my God— Why didn’t you— I would have helped!” 

“I was embarrassed,” Kenneth said. “I thought I could find somewhere to go while we were out, but it’s crowded and noisy here, too!” 

“Ahh, oh jeez, Kenneth!” Dwight was beginning to panic. Nineteen hours without a pee?! Should… Should Dwight take him to a hospital?! “Let’s… Let’s get you… Somewhere!” he said finally. His own anxiety was causing him to shake, and he gripped Kenneth’s arm and tugged him up a little too quickly. 

“Ahhhh!” Kenneth cried out, feeling his bladder squeeze itself with such force that he was sure a leak was coming, but it didn’t. Rather than feeling relieved that he hadn’t disgraced himself, he felt a little frightened. He couldn’t even leak? He was seriously locked up now… 

“Come on,” Dwight said through his fear. “I’ll… I’ll get you somewhere, I promise. I’ll make it better!” 

Once outside the cafe, Dwight scanned the surrounding area. He still thought that maybe Kenneth needed medical attention, but he didn’t see anywhere that would provide him with that. There were some shops, all of which were crowded, and which he knew would bring Kenneth no relief. “Let’s— Go back to the inn!” Dwight decided. At least there, he knew, the toilet would be private. If the noise was too much, Dwight could help calm him. 

Or, at least he hoped he could. 

The walk back was agony for poor Kenneth, and tears began to pour down his cheeks. The crying disturbed Dwight. Kenneth only cried if the pain he was under was extreme enough that it would be enough to knock any other person off their feet. Finally at the inn, Dwight realized they were now faced with the task of climbing the staircase that led to the rooms. He again glanced at his miserably desperate friend. Dwight realized Kenneth had ceased squirming, he was instead just doubled up on himself, hands buried between his legs, not moving. 

Dwight thought that maybe Kenneth was wetting himself, and that was why he’d stopped squirming, but his clothing was not darkening, and there was no sound of trickling liquid. All of Kenneth’s urine was evidently still inside of him. 

Kenneth had stopped moving because the pain he was under was so extreme that even the smallest twitch of any of his muscles would make it intensify. His holding muscles felt like they'd been covered in paper-cuts before being smeared with lemon juice. His urethra was shuddering, and it felt as though the sharp tip of a knife was repeatedly poking into it. His eyes widened as he looked at the staircase, remembering that they separated him from the potential of relief. “I… I can’t…” he whimpered. 

Dwight wasn’t about to force him. “Okay… Um… Just let it out here,” he said. 

“What?” Kenneth cried. Kenneth had always had a shrill voice, but not even Dwight had ever heard it reach that high of an octave before. 

“Just do it here, alright?” Dwight said. “The stairs would be too much at this point. Just… Go, and then run right up to the room. I’ll find an employee afterwards, I won’t tell them what happened. Just go, no one else is around to see it. It’s just me.” 

Kenneth squeezed his eyes shut, and he tried to do as Dwight said. He tried to unclench his bladder and allow its contents to flood down his legs and create a massive puddle at his feet. He tried telling his body it was okay. He tried to pee. 

But, nothing would come out. 

He was desperate well past the point of severe physical strain, yet he couldn’t even wet himself. He couldn’t even manage a little, leaky dribble. The pain in his back intensified until it felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of rampaging buffalo. The fear he felt overpowered all other feelings; He could scarcely even feel the agony past the terror. Was it possible for someone to actually burst their bladder? What happened to someone if they literally couldn’t pee ever again? Was his life now going to be nothing but the constant torment of ever increasing desperation that he could never relieve even the slightest bit? 

“I can’t!” Kenneth exclaimed. “I can’t do it! It won’t— It won’t come out! Dwight, please?” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging Dwight for, just… Dwight fixed things for him! Dwight made him feel better! He needed Dwight to fix THIS. “Please, Dwight! Please!?” 

Dwight wasn’t too sure what Kenneth was asking for either. But, obviously being here was upsetting him. “Okay, want to go up to the rooms?” 

Kenneth nodded, and Dwight took him by the arm and tried to gingerly lead him up the stairs. “It’s okay if you can’t make it up the stairs. It’s okay. Just keep trying to make it come out, alright?” 

As they maneuvered up the stairs, Kenneth tried to force his bladder to release itself into his clothes. He was in so much pain that he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if he had an accident. He just cared about getting all this piss to go somewhere that was outside of his body. But, he couldn’t. Dwight was making him move too fast! But, really, any speed would have been too fast for Kenneth’s bloated, water-logged body. 

The pain Kenneth felt every time he set his foot down on a new step was the sort of thing that could drive a man to insanity. Kenneth had felt extreme physical pain before, he knew pain like he knew the back of his own hand, but he’d never felt anything even close to this. He genuinely believed that he was going to explode, that something inside of his body was going to rip him apart limb from limb. 

Once they’d reached the landing, Dwight tugged Kenneth into his room. He reached his other hand downwards, unclasping Kenneth’s belt, undoing his buttons and tugging down his zip for him as he helped his poor friend hobble into the restroom. “Y—You’re here,” Dwight said. “This better?” 

Kenneth trembled as he pulled himself free and aimed. “Nnnh, I can’t! It’s loud!” 

Dwight tried to catch his breath for a moment, and then he did notice it; The faint sound of people talking in other rooms. Dwight could barely hear it, but apparently it was still enough to lock Kenneth’s bladder up. “You can do i—“ 

“I CAN’T!” Kenneth exclaimed, frustration and rage in his tone. “I can’t do it! Don’t you think if I could, I would have by now!? But, I can’t! I can’t, and it hurts! It hurts so bad!” His rant was interrupted by a heaving, choked sobbing sound. “Please… I can’t take it…” 

Dwight came closer. He rubbed Kenneth’s back as he repeated every soothing word he could think of. “I’m here… I’m here… I’ve got you… You’re okay…” 

“I’m not,” Kenneth whimpered, pushing down on his pelvic muscles as hard as he could, not a single drop managing to snake down through his urethra.

“You are, I’ve got you…” Dwight said. “You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” He began kneading Kenneth’s shoulders, trying to get as deep into his tensed, rigid muscles as he could manage. “I’ve got you, you’re okay. You’re safe. Deep breaths now.” 

Dwight ran him through their usual breathing exercise for a couple minutes, but still Kenneth’s bladder remained fuller than should have been physically possible. Dwight tried not to let the panic he was feeling enter his own voice. “Kenneth,” he said. “You can do this, I know you can.” 

“I can’t…” 

“You can,” Dwight repeated. “You’re not the kind of person that gives up, Kenneth. You’re the kind that keeps fighting, even when it seems impossible. Ever since you were little, you never gave up; You always kept moving forward, you always kept trying, you always survived.” He pressed his hands as deep into Kenneth’s shoulders as he could. 

A few of the seven billion knots of tension in Kenneth’s body began to loosen, his panic began to fade. 

“You’re a fighter, you’re not a quitter. You’re so much stronger than everyone says you are. That’s why I lo—“ 

HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! 

“OH! GOD!” Kenneth cried out in ecstatic euphoria as a deluge of urine erupted from his overburdened bladder. His body instantly felt like it were made of gelatin that had been left out in the sun for fifty hours. If Dwight weren’t already holding onto him so tightly, he would have collapsed. He didn’t know if he even would have noticed he’d fallen over if he had. All he could comprehend was intense, mind-breaking relief. All he could do was moan and allow shivers to work their way up and down his spine. “Ohhhhhh…. Yesssssssss… That’s the stuff… Mmmm…” 

Holding onto Kenneth’s shuddering body while he made such… intense noises was doing something to Dwight. Something that was beginning to have a very physical effect. ‘No, no!’ Dwight thought. ‘Not now!’ He begged his body to stop sending an unnecessary amount of blood downwards. ‘He’s right up against… He’ll feel it! Not now!’ 

If Kenneth noticed, or knew what it was, he didn’t react. Hopefully he was too caught up in what he was doing to pay attention to anything else that was happening around him. Kenneth just kept moaning away, as what surely must have been gallons of liquid intensely sprayed through his tip. He was inhaling and exhaling as if he was trying to catch his breath after a three mile run. His stream dwindled down to a trickle, only to ramp back up to its forceful, gushing state a couple seconds later. When he started dribbling again and felt pretty empty, he reached for his zipper, only to be surprised by another huge pulse of liquid. Then another. And another. 

Then, finally, he was drained. “Ahhhhhhhh!” He sighed loudly. 

Now that Dwight was reasonably certain Kenneth could keep himself upright on his own, he let go of his friend and stepped back, trying to cover his crotch with his hands. Kenneth didn’t notice, just headed for the sink to wash his hands off and splash a little water onto his face. “That’s better…” he murmured, his mind and body were still trying to readjust to how it felt to not have a medieval torture device shoved inside his abdomen. 

“Okay now?” Dwight asked, his face turning red as he took in his friend’s disheveled appearance. Kenneth’s face was pink, his hair mussed, his eyes glazed over… It looked like he’d just gotten through doing something other than taking a leak… “All better?” 

“So much better…” Kenneth confirmed. “I… I just… Thank you. You have no idea how badly I needed that.” 

Having seen the size of the tsunami Kenneth had just unleashed, Dwight thought he did have a pretty decent idea… Though, he could not for the life of him imagine what it would feel like to have that much urine locked up inside his body. “You’re welco—“ 

Before Dwight could finish, Kenneth’s lips were on his. 

This was not the first time Kenneth had kissed him; Pretty far from it. The first time they’d kissed had been immediately after the death of Kenneth’s Father. Kenneth’s emotions had been running so high then; Scared that it didn’t look enough like a real suicide, scared that what had really happened would be obvious, and that no one would understand that he’d been left with no choice, that it was either Father’s life or his own. But, beyond the fear, there was also elation; a dizzying sense of freedom that the monster whom had terrorized him his entire life was finally gone and would never hurt him again. 

Kenneth had been so totally overcome with so many conflicting feelings, pinging through his body, obviously he had to get them out somehow; And, he’d just drawn Dwight to him and kissed his lips hard, begging his friend to never leave him even after what he’d been forced to do. Dwight had just melted then; The idea that his friend had taken the life of another had been frightening at first, even knowing that he’d only done it to defend himself… But, when Kenneth had kissed him, brought him so close that he could hear his heartbeat… He knew Kenneth was still the same person. Just, he’d been forced to do a terrible thing. 

They’d kissed a few times since then, too. When one of them was frightened, or incredibly upset, the other would sometimes just give him a quick kiss on the cheek. They had done more than kissing, too; Once when they’d been extremely stressed out, they’d gotten into bed together. It had only happened once, and neither of them ever spoke of it. It was as if it had never happened. 

Dwight was sure lots of friends had done things like that before, but just like he and Kenneth, they never, ever talked about it. 

Just… Dwight couldn’t lie to himself; He wanted that to happen again. Kenneth taking command of him, dominating him and sending rushes of… of just pure ‘feeling’ through his body in ways he’d never before experienced. He wanted that experience again, but for now he was content with just having Kenneth kiss him, like now. 

All his memories of the previous times Kenneth had deigned to kiss him told Dwight that ‘kissing’ was reserved for times when Kenneth was completely overwhelmed by a whole spectrum of emotions. This was a little different from the other times Kenneth had wanted to kiss him; Seeking reassurance that Dwight still loved him after he’d committed a murder, wanting to be cheered up after being hurt, or just wanting comfort when super scared were all a bit… Different than being so grateful that Dwight helped him take a piss that he could literally kiss him for it. 

Still, Dwight kissed back, he wasn’t going to waste this moment, as weird as it may have been. Kenneth’s tongue forcing its way past his teeth did nothing to help Dwight with his below-the-belt issue, which he was positive Kenneth MUST have been able to feel with as close together as they were. But, he didn’t care, he wanted this moment to last as long as possible, and he wanted to let himself feel everything it made him feel. 

When Kenneth paused for breath, exhaling another “Thank you,” Dwight immediately drew their lips back together a second later. When they finally parted and looked at each other, neither knew what to say. They never knew what to say after these sorts of things happened. “Uh~Um…” Dwight said finally. “You’re… You’re very welcome.”

Edited by segaface (see edit history)
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“No,” Bryce insisted. "You may go when we arrive at our destination.” 

Dwight paced in place as he stood on the train platform, desperately eyeing the sign designating a mens’ room just a few short paces away. “But, Bryce,” he complained. “You said that this will be a five hour ride! And, I already really, really need to—“ 

“No,” Bryce barked. “Contain yourself. Be an adult. I will not allow you to make us late!” 

Kenneth rolled up the sleeve of his coat. Bryce hadn’t thought it was that cold, but Kenneth had still shown up with a heavy coat over his uniform. Kenneth must have had a very low tolerance for cold, and Bryce thought it may have been funny to take his jacket from him somehow so he’d have to freeze. 

Kenneth eyed his watch. “Bryce,” he stated. “Stop being a moron. We have fifteen minutes until the train is supposed to get here. That’s plenty of time for Dwight to pee.” 

“Keep pushing, Kenneth,” Bryce glowered. “Keep calling me a moron and see what happens.” 

“Moron,” Kenneth repeated. “Moron, moron, moron!” 

“I swear to—“ Bryce turned around, noticing that Dwight was gone. His annoyance grew; The little twerp had just wound him up so much that he’d been distracted enough to let one of his subordinates slip away and disobey his orders. 

When Dwight returned, his face was back to its usual color, no longer tinted with a pink hue. He was able to stand still again as well. 

Bryce huffed, “Feel better?” he asked in a mocking tone. 

“Yes,” Dwight nodded. “Lots better. No way I could have held that the whole ride.” He lowered his voice and stepped closer to Kenneth. “Do you have to go, too?”

“N—No, I remembered to… handle that… before we came here,” Kenneth said quietly. 

Bryce rolled his eyes up to stare at the clouds. Why did he have to get stuck with these two? They were such children. They were a disgrace-- One of them couldn’t even PISS, unless someone did that bizarre shoulder-rubbing ritual thing for him. They were— Bryce noticed a slight tingling in his lower abdomen, and realized he’d neglected to relieve himself before departing for the station. He glanced furtively to the mens’ room, then immediately looked away. He couldn’t go for a piss after he’d just made such a big deal out of Dwight doing the same thing. He didn’t even have to go that much, it could wait until they’d reached their destination. 

When the train arrived and Bryce took his seat, he grimaced slightly as his belt compressed his bladder ever so softly. Perhaps, he needed to go a bit worse than he’d initially thought. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t a childish idiot like his subordinates were. His bladder would stretch to contain however much liquid it needed to, and would accept the fact that it would not be getting emptied until Bryce decided it was convenient to do so. 

This could be a nice endurance challenge for Bryce as well, to prove to himself how much he could take. His confidence in his strength and pain tolerance had been off balance ever since he’d somehow managed to lose to Kenneth in a pee-holding contest. And, truth be told, witnessing so much piss pulse out of Kenneth’s body the night they’d been handcuffed together had made Bryce feel… Weirdly jealous? 

He never thought there would come a day that he’d envy another man for his bladder capacity, but he just did. Bryce had been unable to stop thinking about how much fluid Kenneth could carry around inside himself. How could someone that was so tiny have enough room in their body for so much pee? He’d cast out a few of his more ridiculous theories, such as thinking Kenneth had gotten an operation to install a second bladder, or that he’d been granted such phenomenal capacity by a genie. 

But then he realized that, in spite of how Kenneth’s bladder was obviously obscenely huge, Kenneth still got desperate to relieve it all of the time. Part of that was because Kenneth got thirsty pretty fast and tended to drink a lot, but most of it was because he just didn’t have that many opportunities for relief thanks to him practically being the poster child for shy bladder syndrome. Then, Bryce concluded that the reason Kenneth could withstand holding back stunning quantities of urine was merely because he’d been forced to practice at it every single day of his life. 

It made sense; One’s holding muscles were surely like any other muscle, they got stronger the more you worked them out. And, there were a lot of days where Kenneth evidently went once in the morning before leaving his barrack, filled and filled throughout the day, and then finally had his second pee late at night after being dismissed. Kenneth’s holding muscles got worked out as much as an Olympic marathon runner’s legs. 

After figuring that out, Bryce had intended to ‘exercise’ his bladder a bit in the hopes of someday being able to best Kenneth, but there just never seemed to be a convenient time to try it. Now, he thought, he had the perfect opportunity. He’d hold it through this entire ride— Hell, maybe even a bit longer than that— and his bladder would start to get stronger as a result. 

A slight pang from his midsection seemed to request that he stop thinking so much about peeing when he was so far from being able to do so. He instead looked out the window at the passing scenery, feeling the pressure inside his body build. 

For the first hour, Bryce was okay. He wasn’t comfortable, but he wasn’t desperate, either. His urge to pee was more of an annoyance than a solid ‘need’. Nothing more than a constant thrumming tingle just below his belt that was barely intense enough to distract him from the book he’d begun to read. He’d become acutely aware of the rattling of the train beneath him, each little shake would make him flex his thighs ever so slightly as an irritating throb coursed down his length. But, he was fine. He was okay. 

Kenneth and Dwight were occupied by talking to one another, they hadn’t seemed to have picked up on how tense Bryce’s legs had gotten. They certainly hadn’t noticed the way his teeth would sink into his bottom lip every so often. That was one thing Bryce had to ensure; That no matter how full he got before their arrival, he could not allow either of those morons to pick up on it. 

He spent the next hour that way, occasionally squeezing his thighs together, trying to distract himself by reading, and reminding himself that he could easily hold this; That his bladder was getting stronger. He enjoyed pain, up until a point, it was fun to see how much his body could withstand, this was just more of that. And, while the pain-games he sometimes liked to play were always based on external pain (being whipped, being cut, getting stomped on) and this was a very internal pain, it was the same idea more or less. 

And, he told himself, this wasn’t pain. Not yet. He was merely a little uncomfortable, his bladder was nowhere close to painful. 

But then, Bryce picked up on what Kenneth and Dwight were talking about. Namely, Kenneth was babbling about the tropics. And, more specifically, how nice the ocean sounded when one was walking along a beach. “It’s so relaxing,” Kenneth said. “As soon as I can go to the coasts, I will never leave. We can live there together, we can live in a beach house, and we’ll be able to hear the ocean as we go to sleep. It will be so soothing to hear the water lapping at the sand all night, and when it rains it will sound even better; The rain striking into the thrashing waves and trickling on the roof all night. It will be so soothing!” 

Bryce’s bladder seized, the constant trembling transformed into mighty throbs; Kenneth’s painfully evocative descriptions were now the only thing on Bryce’s mind. He could hear the gushing, roaring waves Kenneth babbled about, he could see the liquid sloshing up onto the sand. Aside from these tortuous, watery visions, the only other thing Bryce could think of was; ‘Is he doing this on purpose? Can he… tell?’ 

Bryce couldn’t figure out how Kenneth could have possibly figured out that he needed to go. He’d been very steadfast in keeping himself as still as humanly possible. Besides, he reminded himself, Kenneth always talked about tropical things like beaches and oceans; He was obsessed with them. He was so obsessed with palm trees, sand and sun that sometimes Bryce thought it was some kind of bizarre sexual fetish of his. He always talked about this sort of thing, he always fantasized about places like that when he was bored. Just because he was doing it again now, that didn’t mean he was able to tell Bryce was starting to really need a pee-break. 

Even if Kenneth wasn’t intending to irritate Bryce at the moment, he definitely still was; Every word that came out of his mouth, every elucidation of just how ‘relaxing’ the noise an ocean made was, every bit of commentary on exactly what those noises were like… All of it made Bryce feel as though a gorilla was squeezing his bladder in a vice-grip. 

Suddenly, it was too much; “Paulson,” he barked. “No one cares about your weird beach fetish. Shut up.” 

Dwight raised a hand slightly; “I care.” 

“You don’t count,” Bryce informed. 

“Oh…” Dwight looked down sadly. 

“And it’s not a fetish,” Kenneth said, feeling himself blush. 

“Oh, sure. I swear, I wouldn’t be shocked if I caught you jacking off to photos of palm trees,” Bryce said, bouncing a knee. 

“That’s vile,” Kenneth said. “Why can’t Dwight and I talk? Just ignore us.” 

“You are…” Bryce struggled to come up with a way to finish his statement. Something other than ‘You are making me have to pee really badly!’ “You are… Distracting me from my book,” he said. “Be quiet.” 

“Fine,” Kenneth huffed out. “The first stop is soon, anyway. Maybe you’ll be less of a jerk after you get some fresh air.” 

Bryce looked back up then. “There’s a stop?” he asked, trying to keep the elation he felt from entering his tone. That was good.. He was really starting to second-guess this whole self-imposed challenge. If he wanted to give his holding muscles a work-out, it was probably best to do it somewhere that he could easily relieve himself once he’d decided it was time to stop. 

“Yes,” Kenneth said. “This train stops about halfway between where we left and where we’re going.” 

Oh. Wow. Yes. If they weren’t even at the halfway mark yet, then the signals from Bryce’s bladder were telling him there was NO way he could make it through the entire ride. Bryce just nodded to Kenneth, pretended to go back to his book, and hoped that the stop came soon. 

Bryce was lucky; The stop occurred only a small handful of minutes later. He eagerly shot to his feet and tried not to cringe as a painful twinge shot through his middle. ‘Soon,’ he told himself. ‘Just a couple more minutes, and you’ll be peeing.’ His bladder throbbed even stronger then, as if to say ‘Not soon enough!’ 

Dwight and Kenneth stood as well and followed Bryce off the train and onto the platform. Kenneth stretched out, mentioning how uncomfortable it was to sit in one place for so long. Dwight told Bryce he needed another pee-break and started in that direction. Kenneth looked down at his feet. “Um… I would like to… Take care of something as well,” he said, following his friend. 

Bryce didn’t really want to follow them, and allow them to find out how much he needed to go, but he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t empty himself before getting back on the train, he would regret it deeply. Perhaps, he could do something to annoy Kenneth while they were in there. Like, insist on going directly next to him, and then talking to him the entire time so he wouldn’t be able to go. Maybe, he could keep that up for so long that Kenneth would be unable to urinate before they had to head back to the train. 

But, when the three reached the door to the restroom, Bryce realized that none of that would be happening. The mens' room was currently out of order. Kenneth whispered something to Dwight, his face so red it looked like he was sunburned. 

“I—It’s alright, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “You won’t have to hold it the whole ride. There’s a nice wooded area right over there, I’ll keep watch for you and everything.” 

As the two quickly made for the small, forested space to the side of the platform, Bryce swayed back and forth in indecision. If he went behind a tree as well, that would be admitting that he didn’t think he could wait through the rest of the journey; That would mean showing Kenneth and Dwight that he was bursting for a pee. Absolutely not. He would not piss on a tree and let those twerps think he was no more capable of holding his bladder than they were. Because, he was way more capable. He knew he was. He just needed to stop thinking about it; Mind over matter. 

His bladder was cramping, though. His vision kept being drawn to the trees, the most primal part of his brain screaming at him that any one of them would make for a perfectly suitable urinal. Perhaps, the other two wouldn’t even see him going there? But, no. With as full as Bryce’s bladder was feeling, he knew it would take some time to drain it all away. If those two got finished before then, came back and couldn’t find him, they’d probably do something really stupid once they realized they were unsupervised. 

Bryce would hold it. He turned swiftly on his heels to face himself in the opposite direction from the trees. He told himself to just pretend they weren’t there; Therefore, there was nothing in the surrounding area he could use to relieve himself. So, he may as well just deal with it and keep holding on. 

That same primitive part of his mind screamed back; ‘For God’s sake, KENNETH is peeing outside behind a tree! The guy that’s so pee-shy he had a meltdown when he couldn’t catch a fly that was buzzing around the restroom! If he’s doing it, you sure as shit should!’ 

Bryce ignored it, he bounced on his toes and paced in place ever so slightly. He could feel the urine inside him swishing and sloshing about his body. Why did the mens' room have to be out of order!? 

Wait. The womens' room wasn’t! 

But, he wasn’t THAT desperate, was he? 

An angry pounding throb from his bladder warned him that, if he wasn’t now, he was certainly GOING to be pretty soon. He hadn’t even seen that many women on the train; What were the odds anybody was in there? And, if there was, maybe he could just pretend it was an honest mistake? He reached a hand to the door— 

Dwight and Kenneth returned. “Ahh, that’s better!” Dwight said. “I really have to stop drinking so much water before long rides.” He smiled at Kenneth. “And you prattling on about the ocean sure didn’t help!” 

Kenneth smiled slightly, but his face was pink. Obviously, he was embarrassed that he’d needed to pee outside. Or, maybe he hadn’t been able to? Maybe he was still holding it? Bryce hoped so; And he realized his hope wasn’t purely based in a desire to see Kenneth humiliate himself by doing that little dance of his. No, Bryce hoped Kenneth still needed to pee purely so that he wouldn’t be alone in his suffering for the rest of the ride. 

Bryce’s hope shattered like an egg thrown against concrete when Kenneth lowered his voice and spoke; “Eheh, sorry… And, thank you for… Helping me, uh, ‘go’ again…” 

So, he HAD peed, then. Just great. So, Bryce WOULD be the only one of the three needing to nurse a full bladder for the rest of the voyage. Maybe he should just put aside his pride for a moment; If Kenneth had just gone, that meant he had outlasted him already, after all. He opened his mouth to excuse himself to the trees, but was interrupted by the announcement that the train would be departing in a couple minutes. 

Kenneth and Dwight dashed back on board, and Bryce trudged after them. When he sat down, his belt felt like a thirty pound weight slamming into his midsection. He looked down at himself for a second, startled that he may have leaked. He was dry, but he noticed a very slight bump in his lower abdomen. His bladder had been feeling swollen for quite some time, but now it looked that way as well. 

When the train started to move, Bryce cringed at the sudden jolt. His bladder lurched in time with the train, and his sphincters had to work at least five times as hard to keep any of its contents from spilling. He ground his teeth together, and his ankles crossed against one another of their own volition. 

He. Had. To. Go. 

He’d made a horrible decision. He’d made a whole host of horrible decisions. He should have gone before they’d left for the station. He should have gone before the train arrived. He should have gone behind a tree at the last stop. He should have gone, and now there was nowhere to go, and he was trapped, and he was just so, so desperate! He grabbed up his book, placed it face down on his lap, used it for coverage as his hands wrapped themselves around his cock and squeezed away. 

He looked outside, trying to see if he could recognize anything and gauge how far they were from their destination. But, of course, he knew they must have been quite far if they’d only just passed the half-way point. He felt cold chills shudder through his body as he began to consider the fact that he actually might not be able to make it. He actually might have an accident. He actually might flood his uniform with gallons of piss with Kenneth and Dwight sitting right across from him, watching the entire thing unfold. 

Another hour later, and Bryce was experiencing the very definition of the word ‘agony’. He pulled his feet up from the floor, and tucked them underneath himself. He didn’t know why, but curling up on himself like that always helped him hold on. And, he needed all the help he could get if he was gonna have even the smallest chance of making it in time. His book had fallen from his lap when he did this, not that he noticed, and the grip he had on himself was now clearly visible between the straining crease of his legs. 

“Bryce?” Kenneth asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. “By any chance, do you need to relieve yourself?” 

“No,” Bryce snapped, aware of how ridiculous a statement that was when he was coiled up in a fetal position and squeezing the ever-loving fuck out of his dick. 

“Why didn’t you go when we stopped?” Kenneth asked. 

“Because I don’t have to go,” Bryce insisted. “I don’t… I don’t need to go.” His bloated bladder throbbed tyrannically as he denied what he needed. ‘No, you need to go so bad! You have to! You can’t hold it anymore—‘

“I don’t have to hold it,” Bryce said. “I don’t have to hold anything. I don’t need to pee.” He didn’t need to pee, because he couldn’t need to pee, because there was nowhere for him TO pee. Simple. 

It didn’t matter how much it FELT like he needed to pee. He just… Didn’t have to. 

Kenneth covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed, nudging Dwight. 

“Be nice,” Dwight scolded. “You’ve been there before, and—“ 

“And he’s always an absolute dick to me about it!” Kenneth interrupted. 

“I know,” Dwight said. “But, you should still be the bigger person.” 

“He can’t be,” Bryce choked out, twisting around and trying to press the heel of his boot against his crotch. “Because he’s… He’s too short.” 

Dwight threw his hands out. “Alright, fine then,” he said. “Kenneth, do your worst.” 

Kenneth grinned like a six year old that had just been told they could have anything they wanted at the toy store. “H—Hey, Bryce? Think you can hold it until we get there?” 

“No,” Bryce answered automatically. “I—I mean, no. Because… I… Don’t have to. I don’t have to hold anything. I just don’t need to pee.” He jiggled in place in spite of himself. “I don’t need to at all.” 

“Well, if you don’t need to pee,” Kenneth said. “I guess you won’t mind if I talk about the ocean now, would you?” 

What followed was a painfully endless diatribe about the beautiful, sparkling ocean of the coast, with careful and intense detail paid to the sight and sound of the way the liquid moved about on a windy day. When Kenneth could no longer think of new ways to describe waves, he moved on to babbling about how comfortable it was to have a nice, flat and empty bladder; “It was not easy for me to go behind the tree earlier, but I am so glad I did! I was starting to really need it, and it just… It felt so amazing to just let it all flow. Didn’t it feel good, Dwight?” 

“Um, yes,” Dwight said. “I was… Starting to get kinda desperate.” 

“I could tell! You were peeing so much, I’m surprised you didn’t peel the bark off the tree with all that! And, it must have felt really good, you were sighing so much and trying to catch your breath. But, I know that’s not the worst you’ve ever had to go. When was the worst?” 

“Uh, one of the other times we took a train ride. Remember? The time we ended up having to go together once we’d arrived?” 

“Yes, I remember that!” Kenneth said. “I had to go SO bad that day! And, when I finally got to let it out, it felt SO good. It actually made me shiver a little bit! You ever have that happen?” 

Dwight nodded. He was, quite frankly, a little weirded out by Kenneth’s sudden willingness to discuss his bladder so openly. Apparently, his hatred of Bryce outweighed his self-consciousness. Which was really saying a lot… “Yes, I’ve gotten that before.” 

“It feels really good when that happens, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Dwight agreed. “I don’t know why, but I guess it does make the relief a little more… intense.” 

Bryce tried so hard not to listen to this. He couldn’t stand it. Every word that came out of those two dunderheads’ mouths caused a drip of urine to force its way down his urethra. He couldn’t even believe it was possible to need to pee this badly. He’d seriously never felt anything close to this before; Not even during the holding contest. His need to pee was now a full-body experience; The extreme, mind-breaking levels of pain he was under were no longer restrained to his bladder. He felt an intense, indescribable surge of white hot torment flare through his lower back. He had never, ever felt such an awful sensation before, and it honestly terrified him. 

Was it actually possible for someone to need to pee so badly that they exploded? Bryce was starting to wonder, because it really DID feel like his body was being torn apart by the crushing, straining pressure it was under. The leaks had started up at some point, he wasn’t even sure when, but now they just wouldn’t stop coming. And they were getting bigger and bigger. He was certain there was a visible wet spot now, but didn’t dare raise himself from his position or move his hands to check. 

The torture continued on and on; The assault from within Bryce’s body, the assault of Kenneth and Dwight’s discussion and the vivid, tantalizing images they conjured in Bryce’s mind. He could picture it so clearly, a long held stream of liquid gushing unabated into a blessed urinal… Oh, please, please let them get somewhere with a urinal soon! Please… Just… He needed one so bad… He’d do anything for one… He’d give his left arm if it meant he could pee… 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed—Time had become a completely lost concept to Bryce with seconds somehow stretching themselves into years— but finally the train pulled into the station. Bryce got to his feet as gently as he could, but no matter how slowly and gingerly he moved, the humongous leak that followed couldn’t be stopped. 

“Well, okay. We’re here!” Kenneth said. “Now, I guess since there’s nothing we have to do here at the station, we should just head straight to—“ 

“I HAVE TO GO!” Bryce exclaimed, shuffling for the doorway. 

Kenneth quickly followed after him. Once they were on the platform Bryce’s eyes desperately scanned the area for a sign with the promise of a restroom while piss audibly hissed into his uniform. 

Kenneth asked; “Go where?” 

“To pee, you moron!” Bryce cried, bobbing in place, clutching his trickling cock for all he was worth as the pain below his ribcage became like something straight from the depths of Hell itself. “Ohhhh, I have to pee!” 

“Are you sure?” Kenneth asked, standing on tip-toes so he could more easily block Bryce’s view of their surroundings. “Because, I thought you said you didn’t have to?” 

Dwight had caught up. “Kenneth, you’ve had your fun,” he said. “Let him go.” 

Kenneth sighed, “Okay…” He lowered himself from the tips of his toes. 

Bryce’s eyes kept darting around desperately, as the swishing, trickly noises coming from his crotch grew louder and louder. Where the Hell was the restroom? He walked closer to the building at the platform, step by painful step, finally finding it tucked away in a crevice. He could make it… He could make it… Just… 

Left foot, right foot. 

Hss— 

Left foot, right foot. 

HSSSSSSS!

He… He couldn’t make it. He was peeing. He was a few yards from the urinal he so badly needed, but he just couldn’t get to it in time. He was peeing with the force of ten firehoses, all down his legs. A puddle formed quickly at his feet as his body forcibly rejected every drop of liquid within it. He stood there, stock still. His hands were still gripping his cock, but all that was doing was getting them soaked as the deluge built and built. He let go of himself, his heart pounded tyrannically in his chest. 

This could not be happening. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening. 

But, it was. Bryce was having an accident. In public.

His vision started to blur, cloudy fragments forming on the lenses of his glasses. A second later, he realized this was because he’d begun to tear up. Great. Even more liquid he couldn’t contain. 

Urine just kept pouring and pouring, the puddle at his feet reaching an unbelievable size as it spread further and further out. He tried not to think it, but he did anyway; ‘God… What a relief…’ 

It both was and wasn’t. He couldn’t deny that the way his bladder slowly deflated after hours of constantly building pressure was very pleasant, but it was far outweighed by the disgust of his wet clothes clinging to his thighs and legs, the humiliation of this having to have happened in public, and the horror that— of all people— Kenneth was here to see it. 

Bryce had given Kenneth zero reason to be merciful about this. He’d instead given him an entire surplus store’s worth of reasons to be as cruel as he could possibly be about it. 

Bryce bore down on his muscles, trying to speed up the process. He had no idea what he was going to do after he was finished, but he very much wanted the rest of this piss out of him so he could try to move on. 

It took a long time, though. He’d been so catastrophically full that this wasn’t going to end quickly. Rivulets streamed down his legs for almost two full minutes before he felt that he was finally getting empty. His body shuddered as the last of it streamed out, and that made his body heat up even more; How humiliating was it to get a pee-shiver while having an accident!? 

He just stood there in his puddle, trying to catch his breath and to stop his tears. 

Kenneth ran over to him, Dwight calling after him; “Be NICE.” 

“Wow…” Kenneth exhaled. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Bryce hissed out. 

“I… You didn’t make it,” Kenneth stated the obvious. 

“I’m aware of that!” 

“I didn’t think you’d…” Kenneth covered his mouth, fought down a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d wet yourself!” 

Bryce didn’t respond. 

“You…. Uh… Feel better?” 

“No,” Bryce snapped immediately. 

“You must feel at least a LITTLE better…” 

“Fine. A little bit,” Bryce admitted. 

“I… Don’t know where I can get you different clothes to wear,” Kenneth admitted. “I mean… I can take off my coat and you can cover up with that, I guess.” 

Bryce actually looked at him now. “You hate the cold.” 

“I know,” Kenneth said. “But, what would people think of ME if they know my commander can’t keep his pants dry?”

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Every time Kenneth, Dwight and Bryce met with The Leader at his private villa, all three of them were a bundle of nerves. Impressing the most powerful man in the country was not easy, and they couldn’t afford to make even the smallest of mistakes. But, on previous visits, they certainly had.

The very first time they'd met The Leader, Dwight’s bladder had burst. He’d been unable to find the restroom in time, and the very second The Leader came down from one of his private rooms to greet them, Dwight had begun peeing all over the floor, completely unable to stop. It had soaked his uniform so thoroughly it looked like his lower half had been caught in a hurricane. And it had just kept coming and coming, drenching the carpet beneath his feet. Kenneth had dashed in front of Dwight, trying to block The Leader’s view of him. Kenneth proceeded to speak as loudly as he possibly could while he waved his arms up and down like he was trying to fly. Still, the puddle left on the carpet had been impossible to miss. 

Once, it was requested that Kenneth model the march he’d been practicing. It had gone well for a few minutes, but eventually Kenneth suffered the most painful muscle cramp he’d ever experienced in all his days. A tightly knotted ball of pure, white-hot agony formed in the back of his knee. It had felt like someone had driven a knife deep into his muscle and was twisting it around. It completely immobilized that leg and he crumpled to the ground on his hands and knees. Kenneth had an amazing pain threshold, but it was still enough to bring tears to his eyes. When the pain finally ebbed to an intense, but manageable, throbbing, Kenneth realized that the only thing worse than the torturous torment of the affliction in his leg was the fact that he was now laying on the ground, close to crying, in front of The Leader. 

Another time, Bryce had thrown up. And he hadn’t merely done it IN FRONT of The Leader either. No, Bryce had thrown up directly ON The Leader. And it had been a lot. The Leader had, understandably been incredibly furious and Bryce could hardly believe he’d been allowed to leave with all his limbs still intact. 

This time, Bryce was very concerned that he would be humiliated before The Leader once again; The coat Kenneth had given him concealed the visual aspect of his accident from earlier that day, but it didn’t do a thing for the smell. The very second they arrived at the villa, Bryce was going to change out of the sodden, clammy clothing that was clinging stickily to his legs. In addition to the disgust he felt at the way his soaked pants clung to him, the liquid had cooled very quickly as they’d walked, and he now felt uncomfortably chilled. He was very eager to change. 

But, he was also getting a little eager to pee again. He was shocked he already felt so full, but he assumed that his muscles were probably a little worn out after he’d… After he’d pushed them ‘too far’ like that… He was not about to run for the toilet the minute they’d arrived, though; Not with Kenneth and Dwight there. He was positive they already thought of him as a weak-bladder’d baby after what had happened earlier. Dashing off to pee the second he was able to would only confirm it to them. 

When they were about halfway to the villa, Dwight stopped at the doorway to a small shop. “Guys,” he said. “I—“ 

“No shopping, idiot,” Bryce interrupted. “We can’t afford to be late.” 

“I just wanted to use their restroom,” Dwight said, bouncing on his toes.

“Hold it!” Bryce barked. “We’ll be there soon.” ‘If I can’t pee, you can’t either!’ he added silently in his head. 

Dwight gave a longing glance to the shop’s door before picking up the pace. He’d needed to go a little bit before they’d left the station, and he’d tried to relieve his bladder there. But Bryce had denied his request, and accused him of only asking to pee in order to mock him for having an accident. Dwight had insisted that no, he just really DID have to go, but Bryce had merely ordered him to get moving. 

It hadn’t been an emergency, so Dwight reluctantly obeyed the command. But, now after about half an hour of walking, his need had become an impossible to ignore tingle in his midsection. He knew they were close to their destination, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how good peeing would feel right about now. 

“A—Actually,” Kenneth said. “I would like to take a break now as well?” he requested. He, too, had tried to pee at the station only for Bryce to angrily deny him the opportunity. Kenneth shouting back at him “Just because YOU pissed your pants doesn’t mean I should have to do it, too!” hadn’t defrosted Bryce’s icy anger at all. 

He also knew for a fact that the restroom in that shop was one he could use very, very easily. Only one person could use it at a time, the door locked, and it housed a very noisy fan. When turned on, the fan both kept sounds from outside the room from reaching Kenneth’s ears, and blocked the hiss of his stream from reaching anyone outside. It was so easy to pee there, much easier than at the villa. There he’d always be worried about The Leader hearing his urine trickling into the toilet, and Dwight would be unable to come assist him unless they were certain no one was around to see them going in or coming out together. 

A few of the times he’d gone to the villa, he’d had to hold it in until night fell. Until after The Leader and all the servants had retired to bed. The relief he felt those nights was always out of this world— enough to leave him weak at the knees as his shivers made it almost look like he was vibrating— but, he already 
had to go quite a bit and would prefer to do it now. Maybe he could convince Bryce somehow. “Um, don’t YOU need to go?” 

He realized a second later that that was not the right thing to say. Bryce turned sharply on his heel, scowling over his shoulder at Kenneth. “Of course not,” he insisted. “How dare you patronize me?” 

Kenneth gave his pinky a quick nibble, squeezed his thighs together, and resigned himself to yet more time spent holding it in. Maybe his bladder would cooperate a little more easily than usual once they’d arrived? He certainly hoped so… 

“Now, pick up the pace, you morons,” Bryce demanded. “I will not let you make us late!” He walked at a much faster speed than was comfortable, his bladder protesting with every step, but he was just so eager to get to the villa, change out of his wet clothes, stand at the toilet and let it flow… 

Following his fantasies, a pulse of liquid surged downwards and he abruptly stopped and snapped his legs together. 

“What’s wrong?” Dwight asked, shifting from side to side as he made himself stop walking. 

“Nothing,” Bryce said. “Just… Um…” He groped for an excuse. “Paulson, you are good at directions, aren’t you? We are going the correct way, right?” 

“Yes?” Kenneth answered, a little confused. They’d walked this path more than once… 

“Ah, thank you. Just making sure,” Bryce said. “I was concerned we were lost.” He forced himself forward, ignoring the angry throbbing from his bladder that demanded to know why he hadn’t done as the others had suggested and stopped for a pee-break at the shop. ‘Soon,’ he told himself. ‘You just have to wait for now.’ 

Eventually, they arrived at the villa. After being greeted by one of The Leader’s servants, Bryce quickly made his way to one of the guest rooms, peeled off his drenched uniform and put on a fresh one. He already felt better now that the fabric touching his skin wasn’t chafing against his flesh. After looking himself over in the mirror, and pressing a hand to his groin for a second to stem back a more insistent pang of need, he left the room and started for the toilet. 

Then, he noticed that one of the servants was speaking with Kenneth and Dwight. Dwight was twisting around on the spot, stepping in place with both hands shoved into his pockets. Bryce was fairly certain he was using the cover of his pockets to conceal the grip he now needed to place onto his dick. Bryce couldn’t believe the servant hadn’t commented on it, or offered Dwight the restroom yet. It was plain as day that he needed it really bad. 

Kenneth wasn’t exactly pee-dancing, at least not how Dwight was, but he was visibly uncomfortable. He was gnawing his fingers, and his body was shaking just the slightest bit with obvious tension. 

Bryce smirked, delighted that they were being made to wait even longer. They should piss themselves too now, that way they wouldn’t be able to mock Bryce for doing the same. Bryce was about to proceed to the restroom to answer his bladder’s now very urgent pleas, when he realized what the servant was actually talking to them about. 

The Leader’s personal chef was out sick for the day, so the servants would be the ones to prepare dinner. This wasn’t the part that freaked Bryce out. No, what freaked him out was when Dwight immediately said “That’s okay, we can do it today!” 

Bryce knew what happened when either of those two cooked. It was practically a war-crime. Whenever Kenneth tried to cook something, there was fire and destruction and just… So much smoke. Dwight may not burn the everloving shit out of everything and cause accidental explosions, but… He really, really loved hot sauce. He put it on everything. Literally everything. Bryce had seen Dwight put hot sauce onto kiwi fruit before. And then he ate it. It was disturbing. And, Dwight just didn’t seem to understand that other people did not like hot sauce to the extent that he did. If those two tried to prepare dinner, The Leader’s private villa would likely explode, and the resulting dish would be a nauseating concoction of hot sauce and completely random items. 

Absolutely not. 

Bryce stomped over. “Yes, we can do it,” he interrupted. “But, I am in charge. I will be monitoring.” 

“No problem,” Dwight said. His legs twitched beneath him and turned inwards.

“I suppose that will be acceptable,” the servant said. “You have shown yourselves to be trustworthy, if a little… unusual.” 

Bryce scowled. 

“Do you think you can get it done by six?” 

Dwight nodded quickly, bouncing a bit more harshly where he stood. “Yes. We can get started as soon as I—“ 

“No,” Bryce said. “No wasting time.” 

“But, Bryce, I—“ 

“No,” Bryce repeated. “We must get a decent start on the preparation, you two may relieve your puny, tiny little bladders after we’ve got the ingredients chosen.” 

“Okay…” Dwight said. That part shouldn’t take too long, at least. 

Kenneth plucked his hand from his mouth long enough to scoff at Bryce; “We’re not the ones with tiny bladders, you’re the one that had an—“ 

“If you keep talking, then there won’t be any break at all,” Bryce informed. “Now, come.” 

Once in the kitchen, the three quickly settled on a recipe, and Bryce instructed Kenneth and Dwight to accompany him into the walk-in pantry to fetch all the ingredients. 

Dwight followed Bryce in quickly, eager to get the ingredients out so he could finally unload his straining bladder, which was beginning to feel like it must have been the size of a watermelon. Kenneth did so a little more reluctantly. He just… He didn’t like places like the pantry. It was really small in there, that was for sure. And dark. The shelves made it feel even tighter. It was suddenly kind of hard for Kenneth to breathe… He looked back towards the door. He could leave now, if he wanted. Make this weird tight feeling in his chest go away. Make the sound of the blood rushing in his ears a little quieter. 

But, if he disobeyed Bryce, he might be denied his promised pee-break in a few minutes. And, Kenneth really, really couldn’t do without it at this point. He was getting dangerously full. He felt the liquid swirling and swishing, colliding with the irritated and straining walls of his overstretched bladder. He pressed his legs against each other, trying to pin his opening shut between them. 

Once they’d each grabbed a few cans from the shelves, Bryce turned to open the door and lead them out. His own bladder was already loosening itself in anticipation. Soon, he’d be in front of the toilet, his belt would be apart, his zip would be down, and he’d be able to just… Let everything out. God, that was gonna feel so incredi— 

Click… 

What the Hell? 

Bryce twisted the knob again. It still didn’t budge. Horror flooded his veins as his bladder swelled and pinched, the liquid inside it slamming full-force against his sphincters. Bryce pushed himself against the door, trying to force it open. But, it just wouldn’t. It was jammed. “I—I think we’re stuck in here,” Bryce stammered out. 

“What?” Kenneth asked flatly, praying to every last God he could think of that he had misheard that. But, apparently he’d done something to make God really angry, because Bryce just repeated his statement, unchanged. 

No, no, that couldn’t have been right. Kenneth was well and truly trapped in this tiny, darkened space with no way out. He felt like a rat in a cage. Shit! A flood of memories cascaded into Kenneth’s mind’s eye before he could stop them. And these weren’t like normal memories where he could only really see them in his head and his imagination; No, these filled up his frame of vision just like the events had when they’d actually taken place. It was as vivid and real as anything else that had actually happened that very day. 

His Father holding a gun as he swayed drunkenly on his feet, completely out of it. 

His Mother yelling; “Put that down! It’s dangerous!” 

His Father’s voice was so slurred one could barely make out his words, his tongue lolling from his mouth; “No, it isn’t. It’s not even loaded. See?” 

A noise so loud it made Kenneth’s ears ring, and then blood, and screaming, and more blood, and suddenly Kenneth didn’t have a Mother anymore, and Father was dragging something out of his closet and slapping him and hitting him and hurting him. He felt all the stings, all the bruises being formed. He felt the heavy weight of his Father’s arms as he was forced to lay in the dark box, heard the lid slam, heard the lock clicking. He saw the darkness, felt the sides of the box pinching him as he tried to move even a fraction of a centimeter. 

God, God… No, that was a long time ago. That was a long time ago, and his Father was dead now, and Kenneth was the one in charge of everything, the rest of the world had to sit back and watch, and obey, and do what he wanted, and… The memories faded and he saw the shelves of the cupboard once more, except… There… There wasn’t any air in here! Why wasn’t there any air!? He was going to die, he was going to die— But, Bryce and Dwight weren’t suffocating, something else was wrong. His heart was racing and his chest hurt so bad, like he just got tackled by every football player that had ever lived. He was gonna keel over dead in this stupid place, with the walls getting closer and closer together and the light fading to nothing, and— 

Dwight’s arms were around him, Dwight was holding him tightly against his body. “Shhh, shhh…” Dwight said. “You’re safe. I’m here. It’s okay…” He ran a hand up and down Kenneth’s knotted spine. “I’m here… I’m here…” 

Kenneth’s fists bunched themselves in the material of Dwight’s shirt. His breathing began to even out, he started to remember where and who he was. He remembered what was actually happening, and he buried his face into Dwight’s chest as his heart-rate began to return to normal. Everything was okay. He wasn’t going to be trapped forever. Someone would let him out soon, and it would be wide open and light again, and— 

And… 

And he could pee! 

Dear God, he still had to pee! He still had to pee SO bad!

He was perhaps a little shocked, and maybe even a bit proud, that he hadn’t wet himself when the fear had overtaken him a moment ago. To make sure, he felt a hand between his legs and registered nothing but dryness. He was still holding it. He just… Wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to do so. 

Bryce had watched Kenneth’s freakout and had dutifully kept his mouth shut. He’d made fun of Kenneth’s claustrophobia before, he’d laughed at him when he’d gotten so terrified he’d fallen apart before. But, that had been before he knew why Kenneth was so scared of dark, cramped places. Once he knew what had happened, it had ceased to be funny. Once Bryce had heard the story, he’d actually apologized for one of the first times in his life. 

If Bryce were a more honest person, he’d admit that seeing the terror in Kenneth’s eyes a few moments ago had made his heart twist ever so slightly. Had made him feel something other than pure ‘contempt’ for the little twerp. The… emotion that Bryce refused to call ‘concern’ had managed to distract him from his bladder for a couple minutes, but now that Kenneth was breathing again, Bryce’s urge was back full force. He returned to the door, twisting the knob back and forth in desperation, as a cold fist of fear squeezed his bladder. 

What if he had another accident? If he pissed himself for the second time in one day? Why didn’t he go at the shop when Dwight asked for a break? Why didn’t he go before they went to get the ingredients? He wished he could go back in time to the moment Dwight stopped at the entrance to the shop, instead of snapping and telling him to keep walking, Bryce would say; “Yes, that’s a good idea! This is a long walk, and we don’t know what will happen when we arrive. Let’s all go now!” 

He wished so furiously that that had been his response. Then instead of being stuck here in the dark with a bladder that felt as though it were containing the entirety of the Atlantic ocean, he could be stuck here with a nice, flat abdomen that was in no danger of leaving him soaked for the second time today. 

Now that Kenneth was a little calmer, Dwight decided it was time to solve his other problem. He scanned the shelves until he found a jug, promptly plucking it up with one hand while his other went to tug at his zipper.

Bryce turned around at the sound of Dwight’s zip being pulled. “What are you doing?” he demanded. 

“I have been telling you for over an hour that I have to pee,” Dwight reminded, turning his back to Bryce as he began to position the jug in place. 

“That is The Leader’s jug!” Bryce snapped. “Don’t even THINK about pissing in it.” 

“I’ll clean it once we get out,” Dwight said. “I’ve been holding it forever!” 

‘So have I!’ Bryce thought. ‘But, you don’t see me pissing on The Leader’s stuff…’ “If you piss anywhere in this room, there will be serious consequences. Zip up and hold it like an adult.” 

Dwight cringed as he obeyed the command, tucking his member back into his pants before he’d been able to let out a drop. His bladder convulsed and shook with confusion as he pulled up his zipper without actually letting it release. He placed the jug back onto the shelf it had come from and tried not to look at it. Tried not to think of how good it would have felt to be allowed to fill it up. Still, Bryce had a point. Soiling something belonging to The Leader was probably not a very good idea. 

But… If they didn’t get out of here soon, Dwight was probably going to soil the floor here, at least. ‘No, no,’ he begged inside his head. ‘Please, don’t let me pee myself here AGAIN…’ 

Kenneth hated to admit it, but he was relieved that Bryce hadn’t let Dwight pee in the jug. Kenneth didn’t think he’d be able to hold his own bladder if he was forced to watch and listen while Dwight gushed out a stream. Kenneth crouched down in one corner of the tiny room, doubled over on himself as buckets of sweat cascaded down his back. He was shivering, so tense that it was making him tremble. His hands were tucked between his legs, grappling tightly to his dick. He could feel a very tiny spot of wetness between his clenched fingers. “Dwight!” Kenneth whispered harshly. 

Dwight came a little closer to Kenneth and painfully knelt down beside him, needing to grip his own cock as he felt a splash of urine pool slickly and warmly in his boxers. “Nnnh, yes Kenneth? Still feeling sc—“ 

“I have to go!” Kenneth cut him off. 

“I know,” Dwight said. “You’ve been holding it since the train station like I ha—“ 

“Really, really bad!” Kenneth emphasized, a pink glow overtaking his pale features. 

Dwight nodded, “I know,” he repeated. “I don’t know if I can make i—“ 

“Don’t!” Kenneth interrupted. 

“Huh?” Dwight squeaked out, tightening his hold on his cock as drip after drip slithered down his urethra. 

“Don’t wet yourself,” Kenneth commanded. 

“I’m… really trying not to,” Dwight moaned, bucking his hips into his palms, feeling more wetness gathering between his thighs. 

“Don’t,” Kenneth said, and his voice was firmer than Dwight had ever heard it. “If… If you do it, then I’m gonna—“ 

“Ohhhh,” Dwight gave a shaky nod as he understood. He gave a forced smile, “Heh… Uh. Maybe we should have peed ourselves at the station like Bryce did? HE doesn’t have to go now…” 

Bryce turned to scowl at them, but was glad that apparently neither of them had caught on to the fact that he very, very much DID need to go. He’d begun knocking on the door now, hoping a servant would hear it and come free them so he could please, please, for the love of God, please just go take a piss! 

He had to go so badly now that he was positive when it finally came out, it would spray like the jets at a car wash. He paced in place as he just kept smacking the door. “Hello?” he yelled. “Anyone out there? The door is stuck, and… My subordinates have to use the facilities!” 

Nothing. 

Bryce shut his eyes tight, palmed his crotch for a couple seconds as he jiggled. “Ohhhh, I hate this!” 

“At least YOU don’t have to pee!” Kenneth responded furiously. “Seeing as you decided to wet yourself earlier! Why couldn’t you let Dwight and I relieve ourselves befo—“ 

“I didn’t DECIDE to do that!” Bryce hollered, raising one foot off the ground after the other in a way he hoped looked merely angry rather than desperate. “And, I didn’t let you two go because… Because we had a JOB to do, and that takes precedent over your inability to control your bladders.” 

“OUR inabi— YOU wet yourself just a couple hours ago, you complete and utter—“ 

“You know what?” Bryce interrupted, now jumping in place on the balls of his feet. “When we get out of here, you’re still not permitted to go. I hereby order you to either hold it until tomorrow morning, or piss yourself. Those are your options now.” 

“Go suck on an elephant’s nutsack!” Kenneth shouted back, scrambling to his feet to jab a finger into Bryce’s chest. He forced himself to ignore the slow and choppy river of urine that began to roll down his leg at all of the sudden movement. “The second that door opens, I’m going to pee, whether you like it or not!” He continued jamming his finger against Bryce. “I don’t care that you pissed yourself earlier, you freaking deserved it for being such an intolerable douche pastry all of the freaking time!” 

“Ahh!” Bryce exclaimed, both hands flying between his legs, wrists pressing harshly into his crotch. One of Kenneth’s pokes had hit him way too low, way too harshly, and now a stream was seeping into his boxers that was taking all of his strength to restrain. 

Kenneth stopped yelling, stopped jabbing. “Oh, so you DO have to go?” 

“Yyyesss!” Bryce whimpered, thighs quivering, hands buried in the crease between them. “Yes, okay? I have to go! I have to go and I’m sorry, and I— I just have to pee so bad, Kenneth, it hurts! It feels like I’m going to vomit if I don’t pee! I can’t hold it! I have to pee! I have to pee extremely badly, do you get it!?” 

Kenneth was stunned by Bryce’s sudden and extremely vocal pee-dancing, and by the fact Bryce had called him by his first name rather than his last. “Well—“ 

The door creaked open a little… Then all of the way. And there The Leader stood, “What’s all this screaming about? Bryce, were you just… shouting the house down about needing to—“ 

“E—Excuse me,” Kenneth stuttered. “Sir,” he added quickly. 

The Leader stepped aside for a moment, and Kenneth ran out like the pantry was both on fire and filled with highly combustable materials. It was so light out here, so wide. So much safer out here, so much better, and— Ohhh, he had to PEE! Hands clutching his drippy penis for dear life, he dashed in the direction of the restroom as fast as his now wobbly legs would allow. He slammed the door shut behind him. Finally… Finally… 

He turned in the opposite direction of the toilet as he fought with his belt. He always tried to avoid looking at the toilet when he was this close to bursting until after he’d gotten his clothing apart. Several times, his bladder would decide that being ‘at’ the toilet was good enough and just release without a care for how his zip was still up. 

This time, however, the minute his brain registered he was at least in the right room, his bladder decided it was fed up with waiting. It wasn’t just a leak or dribble, but a stream that jetted from his exhausted urethra and wetted the front of his uniform before trailing its way down his leg. He tried to clench it off, but his muscles just wouldn’t listen, they were too worn out after such intense desperation. The trickling continued as Kenneth yanked his zip down in a panic and spun around to face the toilet. For a second or two, he missed and splashed the rim, but after he’d corrected that and his liquid began to flow with a noisy hiss into the water, the relief was so intense his eyes kind of rolled back in his head a little. He exhaled a soft sigh, trying to keep himself from unleashing a perverse moan while in The Leader’s home. “Phew…” 

As his intense stream sprayed on and on and on, he remembered that Dwight still had to go really bad. And so did Bryce, not that Kenneth particularly cared what happened to him. He figured he ought to hurry it up a little, for Dwight’s sake at least. He gave a slight push with his muscles, and as his stream picked up to an almost unbelievable speed, there was a frantic banging on the door. 

And with that, Kenneth’s floodgates slammed themselves shut. A horrific, aching sting traveled its way up his length before reaching his bladder and igniting it in flame. “Unnnghh!!” He cried out loud at the atrocious, intense pain. 

“HURRY!” Bryce’s voice shouted from the other side of the door. “HURRY! HURRY UP! PLEASE HURRY UP!” 

Kenneth pushed as hard as he could, begging his body to unclench itself again so he could finish. He was still so far from being finished! He still had to go so much! He wanted that mind-breaking, spine-tingling sensation of relief from a few seconds ago to come back! He needed it back right now! He couldn’t live without it! 

“HURRY!” Bryce shouted again, followed by more furious pounding. 

“I WAS hurrying!” Kenneth yelled back. “You startled me! You made me stop! Go away! Please!? Let me finish!” 

Bryce didn’t go away. He didn’t let Kenneth finish. He just slammed his balled up fist into the door once again. “If you can’t piss, just come out! You’re wasting my time!” 

“Go away!” Kenneth shouted back. 

On the other side of the door, Bryce was doing the very definition of a pee-dance. He was jumping from foot to foot, one wrist pressed firmly into his crotch while the other hand made angry contact with the door over and over and over again. 

Behind him, Dwight wasn’t fairing much better. He was clutching himself with both hands, knees knocking together, but neither of those actions were impeding his flood very well and he could still feel it dribbling out. “Bryce…” he whimpered. “Kenneth won’t finish if you keep freaking him out… Come wait farther from the door like I am, and he’ll be out a lot faster.” 

“Shut up!” Bryce barked at him. “He’s got to learn to listen to m—“ 

“I—It’s nnnot a matter of ‘listening’,” Dwight said, trembling all over as he bobbed up and down. “He can’t help—“ 

Bryce wound his legs together practically double, and slammed his fist into the door. “HURRY IT UP AND GET OUT HERE NOW!” 

Inside, Kenneth fought with his body to please let him do exactly that, the awful pinchy feeling still hadn’t abated, his bladder was still so god damned full. He hadn’t gotten out even one more drop since Bryce had started doing this. Why was he doing this!? Why couldn’t he just let Kenneth pee!? Didn’t he understand this would go a lot smoother if he just left Kenneth alone for a minute and allowed him the peace and privacy he needed? Kenneth could have been done by now if he could just be left alone! 

Maybe Bryce didn’t actually need to go. Maybe he’d just been saying that stuff to annoy Kenneth, and this was just more of the same. Kenneth mashed the flat of his palm just beneath his navel, but this only succeeded in causing him more burning hot agony rather than allowing his stream to resume. He felt tears begin to prick at the back of his eyes. 

Suddenly, all the shouting and banging ceased, and there was a sound of trickling liquid. Kenneth was so wrapped up in his own misery, he didn’t stop to consider what could be happening on the other side of the door. All he could understand was that the awful noises were gone, and had been replaced by the soothing sound of gushing water… 

Hsssss…. 

When Kenneth’s stream started back up again, he really did unleash that perverse moan he’d been trying so hard to tamper down before. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh…..!!” Thank goodness! He was peeing again! And, it felt even better now! He could feel his bladder deflating as the supply of liquid in his tank rapidly depleted. 

Outside the door, Bryce was standing stock-still, one hand raised in mid-air as if to strike the door again, the other still tucked between his legs. But, it wasn’t doing any good now. He was peeing. For the second time in one day, he was peeing himself. The puddle seeped into the carpet at his feet, darkening the material quickly. His pants grew warm and sodden once more, sticking to his legs as urine hissed down them in waves. The sound of Kenneth’s downpour behind the locked door, as well as his ecstatic, relieved moans only added to the shame and humiliation that crashed down on Bryce; A reminder of how he could have relieved his bladder correctly just a few steps away from where he currently was. 

Against the hallway wall, Dwight quivered all over, the dribbles that had been leaking from him for the past half hour turned into streams. Witnessing Bryce have an accident, hearing Kenneth pour on and on… It was too much temptation for his own bladder, which had decided that if Dwight wasn’t going to let it join in willingly, it was going to force him to. 

Frantically, Dwight’s eyes bounced around the hallway, and seized onto a vase. Without one more thought, he yanked down his zip, stumbled over to the vase, aimed and…. “Ahhhhhhhhh…..” He knew he was not supposed to piss in The Leader’s vase, but at least he wasn’t doing it in his clothes anymore. He’d wash it out later, it would be okay… 

Everything was okay in Dwight’s world now, there was an amazing sensation of shrinking from within his abdomen as his ocean drained away into the vase. 

“What the Hell are you doing!?” Bryce yelled, though his threatening tone was negated by the sound of his pee continuing to flood his clothes. 

Dwight didn’t reply, merely moaned again. 

After a few more long spurts, Kenneth was finally empty. He felt a little dizzy as he shook himself off and buttoned his uniform. Wow, that was better… As he washed up, he finally realized that the liquid noise he’d heard must have been someone having an accident… He hoped Dwight was okay! 

He hurriedly opened the door, and found Bryce standing in a rapidly expanding puddle… And Dwight peeing like an erupting geyser into a very fancy and expensive looking vase. This was very far from the first time Kenneth had seen Dwight pee somewhere weird due to an emergency. Dwight really was willing to pee basically anywhere. Kenneth had seen him fill up countless bottles, piss against various buildings in broad daylight, and just whip it out whenever he was in the woods with no attention paid to anyone around him… Once Kenneth had even seen Dwight relieve himself into a drinking fountain after he’d won a water chugging contest and then discovered that the nearest toilet was out of order. So, it wasn’t too weird to find Dwight using alternative means to release his bladder, but using something that belonged to The Leader could get them all into a lot of trouble. 

Kenneth stepped past Bryce, trying to avoid the spillage on the ground, and went over to Dwight. “So… Uh… Going in The Leader’s vase, then?” 

“I couldn’t hold it…” Dwight admitted in a tiny sigh. 

Kenneth groaned, but… If Dwight had been feeling anything close to the agony he’d been experiencing, he supposed he could understand taking such drastic action to make it stop. “Make sure you clean it out really well when you're done, okay?” 

“Mmmm…” Dwight moaned a semi-affirmative sounding noise. 

Bryce finally stopped gushing, and looked down at his water-logged uniform. The carpet beneath him squished under his boots… 

Kenneth looked over at Bryce. He had a hard time feeling any sympathy for him now. This was his own fault; If he hadn’t been screaming at Kenneth and making it impossible for him to go, then this would have ended very differently. He told Bryce as much, and Bryce just glared at him before trudging away to get changed once more. 

Dwight sprayed out a few last bursts, then began putting his uniform back together. “Ahhh,” he breathed out again. “Much better!” 

“Wash the vase,” Kenneth stated dryly. 

“I am, I am…” Dwight promised. “And, uh. Just so you know; I told Bryce to stop yelling at you earlier…” 

“Perhaps after this, he has learned that lesson,” Kenneth said.

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Bryce could not believe that he’d wet himself. He certainly couldn’t believe that he’d done it twice. And he absolutely, positively could not believe that both of those times had been during the exact same freaking day. Bryce was disgusted with himself, utterly humiliated beyond all reason. He tried to put these awful experiences behind him, but he couldn’t. For the entire rest of the day, the embarrassment clung to him like the stench left over after being sprayed by a skunk. It was literally all he could think about; He’d pissed his pants like a toddler, he was pathetic, he was weak. 

That night, however, before he went to bed, that was when he discovered a whole new problem. He was now very wary of his bladder, he didn’t trust it one iota. While there were usually some nights where he’d go to sleep without emptying it, he most definitely was not going to risk it tonight; What if now he spontaneously started bed-wetting, too? 

So, before retiring to the room he and his idiotic subordinates were to spend the night in, he went into the restroom. He lowered his pajama pants and aimed, trying not to think of the fact that this would be the first pee he’d had all day that hadn’t resulted in soaked pants. After a handful of seconds, Bryce realized something was wrong. 

He wasn’t peeing. 

He could feel the distinct pressure in his bladder, the straining build-up of urgency at the base of his cock… But, nothing would come out. What the Hell? He grit his teeth and strained, grunting with the effort as he tried once more to force back the memories of soiling himself. 

Not a drop. 

Bryce was nowhere near confident enough in his holding abilities to just go to bed without peeing. And, the longer he stood there, the visual stimuli of the toilet right in front of his eyes, the worse he needed to go. His bladder recognized he was in the right place, his bladder understood that his dick was out, that it was aimed, that it was time to let go… But, the one stubborn muscle Bryce needed to ease just wouldn’t listen to any of that. 

This had never, ever happened to him before in his entire life. The closest he’d ever had to this experience had been when Elizabeth had come into the men’s room while he was at the urinal to discuss some sort of urgent situation that couldn’t wait. Bryce’s stream had faltered mid-flow, startled by the presence of a woman in a men’s restroom. But, after a couple of seconds his pee had resumed easily enough. 

This wasn’t like that. 

This was something else entirely. Nothing he did could coax his pee to leave the confines of his bladder. He flicked on the sink, tried to focus on the sound of the running water. He felt about fifty times more needy, but still couldn’t manage even a tiny trickle. A little voice in the back of his head told him that he was doomed now, he could no longer control his bladder; It would only empty when IT wanted to empty, not when Bryce told it to. His bladder was going to play by its own rules now, and leave him soaked and humiliated no matter what he did to try to prevent the outcome. 

Because, obviously, the liquid in him had to come out eventually. And, if he couldn’t get it to come out at the toilet, then it would more likely come out later when his holding muscles finally failed and decided to leave him a sopping, shuddering mess. 

But then he was interrupted by another thought; Was this… Was this kind of like what happened to Kenneth? 

Bryce shuddered to think that he and Kenneth could have anything in common at all, and Bryce didn’t think what he was experiencing here was quite the same thing. He didn’t have any fear that someone was watching him, which was what he was pretty sure Kenneth was always so stressed over. But, Bryce was still stressed, just over the prospect of having another humiliating accident. 

“I can’t! I’m nervous!” was something Kenneth said often if Bryce ever told him to just go take a leak behind a tree when he began fidgeting during a march. Bryce had never once understood it; Kenneth was always so clearly desperate, Bryce could never actually believe his claims of being unable to go. He’d chalked it up to Kenneth just being stubborn or prudish. Two things which Kenneth definitely was, but… Then there was the night with the handcuffs, where Bryce had seen how much Kenneth struggled first-hand, that was the first time it registered to Bryce that maybe Kenneth and Dwight had always been telling the truth when they said Kenneth couldn’t control his problem. 

Now, here he was experiencing a very similar problem, and suddenly a wave of understanding poured over his mind. Bryce couldn’t. He was nervous. Just like Kenneth. Loathe as he was to admit it, Bryce got it now. This awful feeling, this horrid, aching need to do something only to have his own body refuse it from him; This was what Kenneth felt every time he needed to pee. 

And maybe the few times Bryce had overheard Kenneth screaming obscenities at his bladder and demanding it let him pee were still funny memories, but they made him feel something else now too. This was such a horrendous feeling; It was frightening, physically painful, and mentally draining. Bryce could suddenly understand how this sensation could cause a man to shout at his own uncooperative body. He felt like shouting now himself. 

How did he fix this?! He couldn’t take it anymore! He had to go now! 

What did Kenneth do? 

Well, normally he got Dwight to come rub his back and shoulders and speak soft, encouraging words into his ear… 

Bryce doubted Dwight was gonna do that for him. Not that he particularly wanted to ask, but he was pretty sure that whole… ‘ritual’ thing was something that was exclusively meant for Kenneth…

Bryce had a habit of peeing in the shower. He honestly didn’t even really intend to do it, just… Seeing, hearing and feeling so much water had a way of making him really have to go. And, the pipes were all the same, weren’t they? It was no big deal, even if others sometimes called him gross for it. 

He sighed, a little annoyed by the hassle, but if there was a chance of this helping he’d put up with it. He pulled off his pajama top and slid down his pants and boxers. The skin on his thighs and ass was still a bit pink after having been scrubbed raw after his earlier accidents. He took off his glasses and set them on the counter, so that he couldn’t see that reminder as easily. He cranked the shower on, and once the water was warmed up, he stepped under it. 

He didn’t get to experience a warm shower very often, so the hot water trailing down his naked back and spattering against his bare chest felt good. Relaxing. He closed his eyes and inhaled, and a few seconds later something else began to feel extremely good. The pain and tension in his midsection suddenly transformed into pleasure as a stream nearly as powerful as the one from the shower-head began to trickle from his cock. “Ahhhh,” he sighed. That was so much better… 

He felt pretty bad about peeing in such a nice shower, especially one that didn’t belong to him, so he aimed his release directly at the drain. After a minute or so, he felt nice and empty. He turned the shower off, dressed himself once more, and opened the door to find Kenneth tapping his foot impatiently. “I thought you already took a shower,” he said. 

Bryce stared at him for a moment. Kenneth should have been the last person on Earth he should have felt embarrassed to admit his sudden struggles to, all things considered. Kenneth would understand it better than anyone. But, their history and all the mean things they’d said and done to one another made Bryce choose a different path. “Awww, does little Kenneth have to go pee?” he sarcastically cooed. “Oh, of course he does. He drank too much soda earlier, yes he did. And now it’s all sloshing around in his puny, little bladder.” 

Kenneth straightened himself out a little. “Bryce, everybody likes to relieve themselves before they got to slee—“ 

“I knew you’d be bursting,” Bryce said. “So, I decided to make you wait a bit longer and listen to the sound of the shower running. As payback for what you did earlier.” 

“I didn’t do anything, it is your fault you pissed yourself. Not mine.” 

“You kept me waiting too long on purpose,” Bryce said, though he couldn’t even force any conviction into his voice. He knew now what Kenneth had been feeling as he’d bashed his fists into the door earlier; He knew now how impossible he’d made Kenneth’s situation. 

“I did not!” Kenneth snapped. “God, you’re such an asshole. I’m too tired to deal with your shit, just get outta my way.” 

Bryce opened his mouth to say something, decided against it. He just walked back to the bedroom. 

“Christ…” Kenneth mumbled, eagerly hurrying into the restroom. Bryce had been right about one thing; Kenneth had had way, way too much soda earlier. 

*** 

The next morning, before the three left for the train station again, Bryce entered the restroom. He was certain that the previous night had been a fluke, but the moment he unzipped and took aim, the memories of his accidents slammed their way back into the forefront of his mind. Again, his muscles remained taut. Grimacing, he looked at the shower. Was there enough time for all that? 

There was a knock on the door. “S—Sorry to bug you,” Dwight called. “But, we have to leave soon, and Kenneth and I still haven’t had a—“ 

Bryce zipped back up immediately and slammed the door open. “You’re right,” he said. “We are going to be late. No time for anything else. We leave now.” 

Dwight frowned, “But, Bryce. Kenneth and I both need to—“ 

“You’re dressed,” Bryce interrupted. “You look decent. No more dilly-dallying, let’s leave.” If he wasn’t going to get to have a morning piss, those two weren’t going to get to have one either! 

When Dwight begged for a pee-break at the shop that marked the halfway point between the villa and the train-station, Bryce considered it for a moment. Maybe he’d be able to go there? Maybe it was just being in the home of the most powerful man of the country that had been making it difficult to pee earlier? Dwight was dancing up a storm as he pleaded with Bryce, and it would make Bryce look bad if he had to ride the train back beside someone soaked in their own pee… 

“Fine,” Bryce said. “But, I go first.” 

Dwight nodded, but Kenneth started to protest how that was unfair since he still believed Bryce had peed before they’d left. “Just let it go,” Dwight advised. “At least he’s letting us have a break at all.” 

The group headed for the back of the store, Bryce dashed into the restroom, trying not to let on how eager he was to use it. He once again unzipped and waited for the flow to start. 

It didn’t. 

It registered to him that Kenneth and Dwight would be able hear the exact moment he began urinating; The sound would no doubt remind them of his inability to keep himself dry the previous day. A second after that realization came an even more unpleasant one; The fact that Bryce had not yet begun to urinate was known to them as well. ‘Calm down,’ he ordered himself. ‘You’ve done this thousands of times, you know how it works.’ 

But, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go. 

Nevertheless, he flushed the toilet to give the illusion that he’d actually gotten the job done before leaving the room. Dwight was jumping in place, his hands very close to making contact with his crotch. Kenneth was shuddering and gnawing on his hands. “Kenneth…” Dwight was saying. “Either you have to let me go first, or we have to go togeth—“ 

“Neither of you goes first,” Bryce interrupted angrily. The idea of either one of them getting to enjoy the pleasure of an empty bladder while he still couldn’t figure out what to do to fix his own problem made fury bubble in his chest. “We’re running out of time.” 

Dwight and Kenneth both immediately started to unleash whining protests. “But, you said—“ 

“I wasn’t paying close enough attention to the time. You may go at the station,” Bryce said. 

“But…” Kenneth stammered. “I— That station is always so crowded, and—“ 

“Don’t care. If we get there and you can’t pee like a normal human, then you can hold it,” Bryce said. 

The rest of the walk was painful for all three of them. Dwight leaked so many times along the way. Kenneth chewed his fingers so much he drew blood. Bryce’s bladder tightened and throbbed every time his boots thwacked against the pavement; And, the anxieties in his mind grew in time with his urgency. What if he couldn’t go at the station? He’d wet himself on the train, then! And, since he knew the restroom at this station had multiple stalls and urinals, he couldn’t keep the other two from using it, and he knew that at least Dwight would be successful at achieving relief there. 

That meant that Bryce couldn’t even hope to share the misery of the accident that would surely be inevitable if he couldn’t make himself go. 

When they arrived at the station, Dwight ran towards the restrooms like his life depended on it. Kenneth hobbled after him and nervously grabbed his shoulder. “I’ll help you,” Dwight promised. “Just— Ohhh!— Is it okay if I go first? I know you need it really bad, but I’m so—“ 

“Okay,” Kenneth said, bobbing up and down on his heels. “But hurry, alright?” 

“I will, and… Remember what I said to you the other day about ‘trying’?” 

Kenneth winced, “Okay.” He and Dwight entered the restroom, and Bryce followed them. 

“Wow, Bryce, you have to go AGAIN?” Kenneth asked as he opened a stall. His bladder quivered at the sight of the toilet, and he hoped that it might just cooperate even without Dwight rubbing his shoulders. 

“Shut up,” Bryce muttered, approaching a urinal and unzipping. Nothing happened. His mind was screaming in a panic; Kenneth knew something was up with him. 

Dwight took the other urinal and a second later the room was filled with the sound of liquid spraying. “Ahhhhhh…” 

Bryce winced at the noises. The trickling was making his bladder tremble with need, and Dwight’s relieved moans were making him seethe with jealousy. Bryce wished HE could feel that good… But, he couldn’t. Not a single drop of piss had made it to the urinal. 

He heard Kenneth whimpering in the stall, and assumed that meant he was suffering the same issue… It didn’t make him feel any better like he’d thought it would. This was just such an awful thing to feel that he didn’t think anyone should have to endure it; Not even if they were Kenneth. 

Once Dwight had finished up and left the room, Bryce started to feel even more panicked. He should be long done by now. Kenneth was probably wondering why the Hell he was still standing there. 

Indeed, Kenneth WAS wondering that. He knew Bryce’s bladder should have been empty after he’d been at the urinal for so long; Especially since he’d already pissed TWICE in the last hour. ‘He’s doing this to screw with me,’ Kenneth realized. ‘He’s gonna keep standing there so I can’t go and end up having to hold it through the whole ride. Freaking dick.’ Once Kenneth figured that out, he just zipped up. He was going to leave the room and demand that Dwight take him into the wooded area to pee instead, before time ran out. Angrily, he left the stall and started for the exit. 

“D—Did you go?” Bryce asked. 

‘Dick!’ Kenneth thought once more. Kenneth knew that Bryce knew that he hadn’t peed. Kenneth knew that Bryce knew that he was the reason why! But, he wasn’t about to give the bastard the satisfaction. “Of course I did,” he huffed. 

Bryce zipped up. “O—Oh, well. I did as well!” he said. 

“Good for you! Want a freaking medal!?” Kenneth flung open the door to the restroom and dashed over to Dwight, explaining Bryce’s latest jerkassery. “I ORDER you to take me to those trees over there. And I DEMAND you assist me with my needs right this instant!” 

Dwight bit back a smile. “O—Of course, Kenneth…” The pair headed that way. 

Standing on the platform, Bryce watched them go. He knew what they were going to do. Dwight was going to use those magic hands of his that could apparently make someone pee when they were really, really struggling to. Kenneth was going to feel all better and have a nice, comfortable bladder for the rest of the trip. 

Meanwhile, since Bryce didn’t HAVE a Dwight, he was going to have to hold it and hold it, and most likely piss himself yet again. He was angry, and he was confused. Why did this have to happen to him? 

Sure enough, when Kenneth and Dwight returned, Kenneth was no longer shaking. There was a little pinkness in his face, but it was obvious that he was feeling much more relaxed. That infuriated Bryce’s jealousy even further. He considered for the briefest of moments actually asking Dwight if he could please, please do that calm-down routine with him too, admit that the reason he’d been acting this way was just because he had to pee and couldn’t get it to come out. But… He found his vocal cords were now just as locked up as his bladder was. 

The train arrived and they boarded it. Bryce almost whimpered out loud when he sat down. Maybe when the train stopped at the half-way point, he’d have better luck? He doubted it, but it was all he could hope for anymore. What if he could now ONLY pee if he was in the shower? He couldn’t take a whole bunch of showers every day, there wasn’t time for that and people would ask questions. And, what if it only worked with hot water? Most of the time, the water at the barracks was pretty cold. 

Did that mean he just… Couldn’t pee anymore? But, he had to pee! He had to pee right this second! As the train lurched away from the station, Bryce chewed on his lip and stared out the window, sweat rolling down his face. He tried to read his book for a little while, but the physical and mental stress he was under made it too hard to concentrate on any of it. He tried to daydream and enter a world of fantasy as he just watched the scenery pass by… But all that his imagination could spit forth were visions of streams striking urinals. 

He even tried listening in on Dwight and Kenneth’s conversation. Thankfully, Kenneth wasn’t babbling about the ocean this time, instead he was rattling off everything he knew about flamingos, which were his favorite animal. Bryce actually tried to pay attention, thinking that so long as Kenneth didn’t know any ‘fun facts’ about how flamingos peed, it might just make a serviceable distraction from his urge. “A group of flamingos is called a ‘flamboyance,’ Kenneth said. “They lay one egg a year, and can grow to be five feet ta— Oh, Bryce, are you feeling okay?” 

“Y—Yes,” Bryce insisted. “Why?” 

“You look kind of pale,” Kenneth said. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Warily, he took his feet up off the floor and tried to sit himself on top of them. 

Dwight did the same, a little uneasily. 

Bryce was known for having a very sensitive stomach; Vomiting wasn’t too uncommon an occurrence for him. Having seen their commander’s face pale seconds before he began to retch many times before, the two were not too keen on getting their boots caught in the crossfire. 

Bryce noticed their precautionary measures and shook his head at them. “I’m not sick,” he insisted. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine, though. A few sharp pinches assailed his opening, reminding him of how ‘not-fine’ he actually was. He was a little surprised that he hadn’t leaked yet, with as full as he felt, he thought he should have by now. Part of him was relieved, but another part was worried; He must have been really locked up if he couldn’t even dribble, right? 

“Maybe someone has antacids here,” Dwight said. “Want me to ask?” 

“No,” Bryce said. “My stomach’s fine.” His problem was a little bit below his stomach… And it was something an antacid wouldn’t fix. He wasn’t even positive if it was something a urinal would actually fix. Because, he was pretty sure that if one spontaneously appeared somewhere on the train, he still wouldn’t be able to use it. All it would serve to do would be to taunt him with the notion of relief he couldn’t manage to achieve. 

Bryce brought his legs up underneath himself, the same way his subordinates were doing. He pressed the heel of his boot into his crotch as he fought down horrendously wicked pangs of need. He tried to guess how far they were from the stop, but everything out the window looked the same to him. Kenneth was the only one here that was good with directions… 

“O—On second thought, I am a little motion sick,” Bryce lied. “Paulson, are we close to the stop? I… Am certain I’ll feel better after a bit of fresh air.” 

“I believe we are close,” Kenneth said. “Perhaps thirty minutes? Give or take?” 

‘Thirty minutes,’ Bryce repeated to himself. ‘You can do thirty more minutes. Wait.’ That was what he did. He waited, and he pressed himself against his heel. He waited, and he grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as agony soared through his midsection. He waited, and he let out a cry of shock when the pain in his bladder started to move up, pummeling his lower back with a ferocity he’d never felt before. 

Bryce had enjoyed being whipped on his back before, he’d found it fun, but this… This wasn’t fun, there was no tingle of pleasure beneath the surface of the pain, no triumphant feeling from being able to withstand it… No, this was just pure pain all the way down. Nothing else. “Ahhh!”

Kenneth and Dwight were staring at him, and he realized he’d yelped out loud. He quickly fought to come up with an explanation. “M—Muscle cramp,” he said. 

“Oh, I’ve gotten those,” Kenneth said. 

“I know, there was that time you fell over when you were supposed to be showing off your march,” Bryce said, trying to muster up a bit of malice into his voice, but finding himself incapable of injecting it around the crushing pressure he felt throughout his body. 

Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Well, not that I want to give you advice now, but usually if you get cramps like that, it means you’re a little dehydrated. You should drink something.” 

“N—No!” Bryce exclaimed, much louder than he needed to. “I— I assure you, I will not feel better if I drink something.” 

Kenneth frowned. “Fine. Be that way. Enjoy your cramps.” 

Thank goodness he was dropping it… 

“I’ll get you some water when we stop,” Dwight said. 

Bryce groaned. His body couldn’t handle one more drop. It felt like he was completely made of water, like someone could put him into a cup and drink him. Like a strong gust of wind would make him ripple. He did NOT want to have to drink any water at the stop… But, maybe he would be able to relieve himself there too, and it wouldn’t matter. He tried to be optimistic, tried to think it would happen. 

The stop came a few minutes later. Bryce shakily rose to his feet, but decided he didn’t have to try and hide his inability to walk normally. The others thought his legs were cramping, after all. He stumbled his way from the train and headed in the direction of the restroom. 

Once he had disappeared behind the door, Dwight took Kenneth aside. “I’ll go get the water for Bryce,” he said. “And, we should both pee while we’re here too. Go wait by the restroom for me, alright? I’ll help you go after I get the water.” 

“Okay,” Kenneth said. 

“Or, do you need it badly?” Dwight asked. “Because I can do that firs—“ 

“I can wait, just go,” Kenneth said with a fierce blush. It felt good that Dwight was so attentive… But, it was just so embarrassing sometimes! Kenneth went to wait by the restrooms for his friend. After a couple minutes of waiting, Bryce stumbled out on shaky, knock-knee’d legs. He almost slammed right into Kenneth. 

“Hey!” Kenneth said. “Watch where you’re—“ 

“Paulson!” Bryce said gruffly. “I—“ 

“Don’t go blaming me now!” 

“No! I wasn’t going to! I just… I need to talk to you! Now!” 

Kenneth grimaced. Usually when Bryce wanted to talk, it was to either insult him or demand he perform a task he hated doing. “What?” 

“That… That thing you have!” Bryce said, and Kenneth picked up a weird and completely out of place hint of urgency in his tone. He also noticed that Bryce seemed to be vibrating, shivers powering through his entire body.

Kenneth sighed, “Could you be a little more specific?” 

“You know!” Bryce said. “When you can’t… When you can’t…” He gestured behind himself at the restroom with the hand that wasn’t buried into his pocket. 

“Just because you pissed yourself twice yesterday, that doesn’t mean you can make fun of me more for—“ 

“I’m not!” Bryce exclaimed. “Paulson,” he started. And then; “Kenneth… If you don’t have Dwight to help you get calm. What do you do?” 

“Why do you want to kn—“ 

“Just tell me!” Bryce cried out. “Please, just tell me!”

“Well, normally I end up just having to hold it. I guess there have been a couple times I’ve been able to do it without him, but… When that happens it’s because I’m trying really, really hard to picture that he IS there. Reminding myself of the stuff he says to me, things like that.” 

Bryce chewed his lip so hard he tasted blood. That didn’t help him, because he didn’t have any memories like that to think about! And, even Kenneth said that doing that only worked rarely, and usually he just had to continue holding… Continuing to hold sounded like a death sentence to Bryce. It already just hurt SO much! He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take this constantly building sensation of pain that just got worse and worse and never better. That never slackened or went away no matter what he did. That would only continue to worsen as he was so totally incapable of completing such a basic biological function. The shame would worsen, the fear would worsen, the pain would worsen… On and on and on, for who knew how long!

“Oh, God…” Bryce whimpered. “Kenneth, how the FUCK do you live like this!?” 

Kenneth blinked at him. Once. Twice. Three times. “Huh…?” 

“I— I’ve been feeling this for… For a few hours, and it’s just… I’ve never felt anything so terrible in my entire life. But you… It’s always THIS for you!?” 

“You are… Having that problem now?” Kenneth asked, confused. 

Bryce looked down at his bouncing, shuffling feet and tried to give a nod. He knew Kenneth was going to make fun of him, he knew Kenneth was most likely not going to offer him any help. Even if Kenneth did actually have the ability to help, Bryce had given him no reason to do so. Kenneth was the kind of person to always choose ‘revenge’ over any other option, and now he had the perfect opportunity to enjoy some. 

Kenneth was about to scoff at Bryce, turn away from him and tell him to just deal with it, the same thing Bryce had said to him many times before. He was about to tell Bryce that he didn’t care, that he deserved this. He imagined how awful Bryce must have felt to have to endure the taunting misery of standing at a toilet with a bladder that was on the verge of rupture yet just refused to release its liquid. 

Then, Kenneth realized that he didn’t wish the Hell of a corked up bladder on anyone; And that included his worst enemy. “…Okay,” Kenneth said finally. “I’ve… Only sorta done this once for Dwight before, but… I’ll try it, alright?” 

“What?” 

“Just… Come on,” Kenneth said. He led Bryce back into the restroom. “There’s more space for both of us if you use a urinal, but if you can’t do that we can try it in the stall instead.” 

“Both of…” Bryce trailed off as he yanked his hand from his pocket and pressed it into his groin openly. “You’re going to—“ 

“I’m going to try. I may hate you, but you don’t deserve to feel this. Nobody does,” Kenneth said. 

Bryce shakily pulled down his zip once again and positioned himself at the urinal. He tried to let loose, but again the same feelings and shameful memories came back, leaving his bladder plugged and uncooperative. He cried out a little in the back of his throat. 

“I—It’s okay,” Kenneth said a little awkwardly. He needed to stand up on the tips of his toes to rub Bryce’s shoulders and whisper into his ear. “I swear, if you make fun of my height again—“ 

“I won’t!” Bryce promised, dismayed by the sheer desperation in his own voice. “Just help!” 

Kenneth began to rub Bryce’s tense muscles. He directed his eyes up to the ceiling as the position he found himself in had allowed him to see more of Bryce than he’d wanted to. Kenneth realized then that, considering all the times Dwight had helped him out this way, he’d definitely gotten a decent view of his dick on several of those occasions. He’d never really thought about that before; It had never even crossed his mind that Dwight would have been able to see that area… And, now that it had registered, it didn’t really bother him as much as it could have.

Kenneth continued to rub Bryce’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said once more, trying to recite the things Dwight always said to him. He wasn’t sure what exactly was causing Bryce’s anxiety, but assured him over and over that no one was going to watch, that he was safe and that it was okay to go where he was. 

Bryce still didn’t start spraying, however. 

“Wow, you are really locked up…” Kenneth said nervously, worried that he was just really bad at this. Talking softly did not come naturally to him, after all. 

Bryce whimpered, “It hurts…” 

“I know,” Kenneth said. “Believe me, I know it hurts… But, it will feel better soon. Trust me, when you finally go after being all tense like this, it just feels…” He blushed, realizing he was saying a lot more than he’d wanted to. “Uh—“ 

“How does it feel?” Bryce choked out. 

Kenneth fought down his embarrassment. If talking about this was helpful to Bryce, he’d force himself to do it. “It feels absolutely wonderful,” Kenneth said, continuing to rub. “I—I swear, you feel all this tension just disappear from every last nerve in your body. You start to feel really tingly all over, and you basically turn to jelly.” As he described the wonderful sensations of relief he was trying to help Bryce discover, he started to have a more difficult time remaining on the tips of his toes because he suddenly really wanted to shift his weight around. 

“But,” Kenneth continued. “Your… middle area, that feels best of all; All the pain you feel is going to just convert itself into this indescribably good feeling, it’s just incredible. You go from intense agony to unbelievable pleasure in a matter of seconds…” Kenneth tensed his thighs a little as he continued to speak, the memories of all the times he’d felt that way were colliding with his bladder and it was starting to feel extremely full. “It’s just… Nnnh, it’s really great, Bryce. When you’ve just—“ He allowed himself to drop back onto the floor so he could cross his legs together. “—Needed to go so bad, and you finally get yourself to let it out, it’s so—“ 

Hsssss… 

A few seconds after that sound filled the room, it registered to Bryce that he was finally peeing. All of the feelings Kenneth had promised him washed over his body and he moaned; “Ahhhhhhh….” 

Kenneth began to bob in place a little at the sound of Bryce’s stream spattering into the urinal. He was glad that his vivid descriptions of relief had helped Bryce go, but having to talk about that for so long had nearly been too much for his own bladder. 

Kenneth wasn’t going to ask Bryce to hurry up and leave though, he knew from experience that being rushed by someone would just cause him to lock up again. So, he stood there and endured the noises along with the pounding urgency now overtaking his abdomen. 

Wow, Bryce really HAD needed to go… He’d been blasting the Hell out of the urinal for over half a minute already and it still didn’t sound like his piss was winding down at all. 

Bryce did feel his body start to turn to jelly, like Kenneth had said it would. It took a concentrated effort to keep himself upright as he continued to pour away. He felt the tingling as well, a delightful little shiver that started in his toes and went all the way up to the top of his head. His spine shuddered with pleasure. “Ohhh…” 

That second moan was too much for Kenneth, his bloated, quivering bladder was simply too open to suggestion, and a jet of urine slicked down his leg. He yelped and ran into the stall, noisily slamming the lock into place as he hurriedly got himself out and aimed. He doubted he’d be able to keep going, but at least if he did he’d been in an okay place now. Sure enough, now that he was at a toilet and free to let everything loose, his sphincters remembered how to hold it back. 

Then Bryce moaned again. 

And it was like a switch was flicked. Kenneth’s faucet suddenly erupted full-blast and his stream noisily struck the water in the toilet bowl. He felt himself going red once more, corrected his aim so he was no longer peeing directly into the water and it made a little less noise. He bit back a relieved cry of his own, amazed that he was actually doing this. So, apparently he COULD pee around Bryce, just so long as Bryce was ALSO peeing and moaning super loudly? He doubted they’d be in this situation together too many more times, but it was good to know that there was at least one set of circumstances wherein Kenneth could pee while in Bryce’s presence. 

When the sound of Bryce’s pee dwindled and his moaning finally ceased, Kenneth felt himself starting to tighten back up again. ‘No, no, please!’ he begged as his stream began to slow and stutter. ‘Please, I’m not done yet!’ He pushed down on his muscles, trying to keep his flow coming. “Br—Bryce, go wait outside for me! A—And make sure nobody else comes in until I’m done!” 

Bryce was about to fire back something mocking, but stopped himself. Kenneth had helped him. Kenneth had made him feel so, so good. He could stand to be a little nice to him. Just this once. “Okay,” he said instead, and a few seconds later Kenneth heard the door opening and closing. 

Content in the knowledge he was alone, Kenneth’s bladder went back to gushing unrestrained. “Ahhh….” he sighed out, finally able to vocalize his relief now that no one was around to hear him do so. After about one more minute, he felt fully drained and zipped up. 

He exited the restroom to find Bryce waiting with Dwight, whom was jumping in place and obviously desperate. “Bryce wouldn’t let me go!” he whined, noticing Kenneth staring at him. 

“Paulson said not to let anyone in until he was done,” Bryce stated. 

“Dwight is an exception!” Kenneth said. “He doesn’t count!” 

Dwight hurried into the restroom while Bryce began to argue with Kenneth about how that didn’t make sense. “You said no people!”

“He’s not people, he’s Dwight!” 

*** 

That evening, after they’d returned, Bryce again went to relieve himself. He felt a bit of trepidation, scared that he would freeze up again. The relief he felt when he’d pulled himself out and started going a couple seconds later was truly immense… So, maybe it had been a fluke? Something brought on by the shock of having had two accidents? He hoped so, he didn’t want to have to feel that way ever again. It would have been just awful to have that happen every time he needed to pee… 

‘Poor Kenneth…’ Bryce thought. He chastised himself for the thought a second later, but he couldn’t deny that he suddenly felt the smallest kernel of sympathy for the usually irritating man.

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Bryce was suddenly being a lot nicer to Kenneth about his shy bladder. When Kenneth requested a break to return to the barrack, more often than not Bryce actually granted it. Kenneth was suddenly able to pee more than just two or three times a day. It was so strange to not be rushing back to his barrack at the end of every day, with his abdomen straining in agony as little drips of urine made their way down his legs. Instead, he’d be able to walk back fairly normally, without pain shooting through him with every careful, hurried step. 

The only problem was that Bryce was, perhaps, a little TOO attentive to the matter. At least once an hour, he would ask; “Kenneth, you are fidgeting, do you have to go? Because, you can go if you need to!” It was uncomfortable for Kenneth to have so much attention placed onto this topic. 

At first, Kenneth had thought Bryce was doing it purely to tease or provoke him, but the more it happened, the less that seemed to be the case. Bryce never smirked or laughed when he asked, and he never used juvenile, mocking language (“Awww, does little Kenneth have to go potty?”) like he’d done a few times in the past. He always seemed sincere in his concern, and the unfamiliarity of Bryce not going out of his way to make his life harder, mixed with the exact subject matter at hand, made Kenneth feel completely out of sorts. 

Kenneth didn’t much enjoy his superior asking him if he needed to pee, it made him feel like a child. The fact that causing this discomfort was apparently NOT Bryce’s intention made him unsure of what exactly to do about it. A few times, he’d literally bit down into his tongue to keep from snapping at Bryce to stop asking, that he’d inform Bryce of when he wanted a break… As much as Kenneth wanted Bryce to stop calling attention to the fact that he was pee-shy, he didn’t want to risk making Bryce so angry he took away Kenneth’s new privilege of actually being allowed to relieve himself when the need arose. 

Bryce was as surprised by his newfound leniency as Kenneth was. After his own miserable experience of being unable to void his bladder, he’d been unable to forget the feelings that had swarmed through his body and mind. He’d been perfectly capable of urinating ever since that day, he hadn’t had even one more instance of locking up, so he kept telling himself he had no reason not to return to his previous treatment of Kenneth. 

But, the memories of that day would flood back into his mind’s eye. The fear, the pain, the uncertainty… And Bryce just wouldn’t be able to do it. Even when he reminded himself that this was KENNETH he was dealing with, he was unable to convince himself that anyone deserved to suffer that way. 

He’d found himself monitoring Kenneth, and not in the way he usually did where he was nervous Kenneth was planning to pull a prank on him. He was monitoring his enemy for signs of pain or discomfort. ‘Why do you CARE if he’s hurting?’ Bryce kept asking himself. ‘He’s freaking Kenneth!’ Just as soon as those thoughts entered his mind, he would recall the horrific, pinching pressure he’d endured for so long, remember that that was something Kenneth felt all the time, and he’d stop questioning his motives. 

Bryce had become a little bit concerned by how infrequently Kenneth relieved himself. He only ever requested one or two breaks per day, which Bryce now granted easily, but… That still meant he was only emptying his bladder a maximum of two times within a twelve hour time span each day. Bryce had seen how much soda Kenneth liked to drink, Bryce knew Kenneth adhered to the hydration rules they were all meant to follow and drank the required amount of water each day… Every time Kenneth finally asked for a break, it was obvious that he was aching for it. 

So, Bryce had tried to emphasize to Kenneth that it was okay to ask for a break more often. Of course there would be times when taking a break would be unfeasible, but other than that he was free to ask! But, whenever Bryce suggested to Kenneth that he take a break… Kenneth would get this look on his face, turn bright red, and straighten himself out limb by limb before assuring Bryce he didn’t need one just yet. 

It was like Kenneth only actually allowed himself to pee once it had become an emergency and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. The only exception to this rule appeared to be when he was preparing to leave his barrack, in which case he would always go right before he departed just in case there was no option available to him later. 

This was confusing to Bryce; He’d assumed the only reason Kenneth ended up so desperate all the time was because he physically couldn’t go in most locations. But now, here Bryce was, allowing him to pee in privacy whenever he wanted, but he was still holding it until he was in obvious pain. 

Bryce wondered for a time if Kenneth secretly enjoyed the feeling of a full bladder, kind of like how Bryce himself enjoyed the feeling of being whipped… But, that theory was pretty implausible. Kenneth ranted and raved about how much he hated having to hold it in all the time, and Bryce had seen him break down in tears over it once before. Obviously, he wasn’t deriving pleasure from any of that. 

Maybe he just liked the feelings that came after all that, though? The way he’d described them to Bryce when they’d been in the restroom together that day, it was obvious how much euphoria Kenneth derived from finally relieving himself after spending so much time in agony. Maybe he was forcing himself to hold it so it would feel extra good to let it go later on? 

No, that didn’t make sense either. For as much as Kenneth clearly enjoyed the release of a full bladder, he was also extremely embarrassed by how copiously he urinated and all the moaning he couldn’t stop himself from doing. 

Those were the only theories Bryce had, and neither of them seemed to be correct. 

*** 

The Leader was going to be giving a speech. Of course, Kenneth, Dwight and Bryce would be attending. When they got to the train station, Bryce told his subordinates to relieve themselves, noticing the fierce blush on Kenneth’s face and the way he deliberately looked everywhere aside from at Bryce. 

He still followed after Dwight to the restroom, though. “I… I don’t really have to go that much,” Kenneth said. “I went before we left today…” 

“I’ll help you relax in a moment then,” Dwight said, readying himself at the urinal and letting out his stream. 

Kenneth did have to go a little… And the sound of Dwight relieving himself made him need it a bit more. But, it was just… He really shouldn’t be going this often. He had more self control in this matter than most people did. He didn’t need to have frequent pees. He wasn’t SUPPOSED to have frequent pees. 

Dwight zipped himself up and had Kenneth trade places with him. As Dwight rubbed his back and shoulders, tried to coax him into going, Kenneth imagined himself letting out a brief, thirty second stream… 

“THAT’S what all the fuss was about!?” he could recall his Father yelling when, by some miracle, Kenneth had actually released his bladder under his supervision. “You barely even had to go! You were just trying to waste my time again, weren’t you?” 

Kenneth remembered how scared and confused he’d been in that moment; He’d finally done it! He’d peed even though Father was right there and screaming at him! He’d thought Father would be happy, that maybe he’d relax the peeing rules a little bit as a reward… But, instead he’d only been met with more rage? 

Father kept shouting, instructing Kenneth that he was only to ask for the toilet when he REALLY needed to use it. But, Kenneth had thought he HAD really needed to go… It had certainly felt like it! He’d been jumping from foot to foot and holding himself while he pleaded for permission for the last half hour! And, he’d thought a lot had come out… He’d been going for almost a minute!

Father informed him that he was disgraceful, that getting so upset over such a meagre amount of urine meant he was weak and clearly wasn’t even properly housebroken yet. He was given the usual round of punishments, and left feeling very ashamed and confused as to what was actually expected of him. 

Now, as Dwight rubbed his back and tried to help him pee, Kenneth found himself remembering those moments clearly, and that he was not supposed to pee unless it was either a real emergency, he was about to head to sleep, or he was preparing to leave his barrack for the day. His muscles remained locked up tight for several minutes, before he told Dwight to just stop, it wasn’t going to happen. 

“You’re okay though, right?” Dwight asked. “You can handle the whole ride without going now?” 

“I can,” Kenneth promised. “Like I said, it’s not… It’s not urgent.” 

Indeed, Kenneth could handle the entire the train ride without incident, but he was very eager to get to his room at the inn they were staying at. The inn was crowded with so many people wanting to hear The Leader speak, but the walls were thick and Kenneth couldn’t overhear anyone once he was in the room he’d be sharing with Dwight. He glanced at the door to the toilet the minute he’d entered the room, his bladder recognizing that it was close to a location where it could be emptied. His ankles rubbed up against one another, like the way he’d rub two sticks together to try and spark a fire. 

“You go pee,” Dwight told him. “I’ll unpack our stuff.” 

Kenneth gave his pinkie a quick nibble, “Nnnh…. No, I can help,” he insisted. 

“Kenneth, you’re bursting,” Dwight said. “Go.” 

Kenneth nodded and shuffled to the restroom, taking ginger steps as his bladder struggled to contend with the pace of his movement. He unzipped once he was at the toilet and told himself it was okay to let it flow… 

Then was assaulted by memories of his Father screaming at him that he was not allowed to piss when he still had chores he needed to complete. ‘That bastard is dead,’ Kenneth reminded himself. ‘He’s dead. Gone. He doesn’t matter anymore. Dwight is the only person with you right now, and HE said that it is okay for you to go, so go!’ 

But, the memories continued to replay themselves in his imagination; Forcing him to relive events whose only redeeming quality was that they were over. He pressed a hand over his middle and pushed down as harshly as he could stand it. He stamped his feet against the tile floor as his sphincters began to feel like a harsh, stone dam trying to restrain the Atlantic Ocean… But, the stone was strong, and it didn’t give, didn’t allow even a drop to splash over its edge. 

He whimpered quietly in his misery. It may not have been an emergency at the train station a few hours ago, but it was definitely becoming one now! He needed Dwight… He forced himself to pull his zipper back up, ignoring the wails from his bladder that insisted he continue to stand there and try, then exited the room. 

Dwight had put all of their clothing away, and Kenneth felt bad he’d spent so much time in there that he hadn’t been able to help at all. Especially since he hadn’t even gone… Maybe he should wait to ask Dwight for— 

“You couldn’t go?” Dwight asked before Kenneth could ponder the matter further. 

Kenneth supposed he was being rather obvious. He hadn’t noticed it, but his legs were crossed tight and he’d been jiggling in his spot. “…No,” he admitted. 

“It’s quiet here,” Dwight pointed out. “Bryce is in a different room… I’M not making you nervous now, am I?” Dwight was scared of what they’d do if THAT was the case; If Kenneth’s problem was worsening, if he now couldn’t even go in front of the one person that had always been able to help… 

“I don’t think so,” Kenneth said, chewing on his fingers like they were a particularly tough cut of meat. He floundered as he tried to come up with a way to explain that he couldn’t go if he felt there was work he had to do… “I— I think it’s just… The new location, and stuff," he said instead.

Dwight nodded. When they’d been in training, it had taken Kenneth several nights to get used to his new environment enough to let his bladder empty in a timely fashion— Even with Dwight soothing him. The very first night, Kenneth had been struggling for almost half an hour as Dwight stroked comforting patterns into his back. Then, someone had knocked on the door and barked at him to hurry up. 

In that moment, Kenneth’s frustration with himself and his situation boiled over and flowed outwards with the same ferocity that he’d wished that his urine would. And, when Kenneth got angry, he got loud; “Well!?” Kenneth had shouted back at the person. “Do you want the job done FAST, or do you want it done RIGHT!?” 

And, Dwight just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up in his chest, he was laughing so much he could no longer rub Kenneth’s shoulders in the gentle, calming way he’d needed to.

Kenneth started to redden at the sound of Dwight’s laughter while he replayed the words he’d just yelled back over to himself… But then, he’d started laughing, too. He laughed so hard that his ribs and sides hurt… He laughed so hard that his bladder couldn’t put up with the new strain it was under, and he’d gushed in an uncontrollable burst, not even noticing he was finally going until he heard it spatter against the rim of the toilet. His laughter had transformed into a euphoric cry of relief as he'd corrected his aim and continued to drain himself. 

After that event, Dwight had attempted a few times to make Kenneth laugh until he peed, but after an incident that had ended with Kenneth rolling on the forest floor in hysterics before realizing he was peeing all over himself, they’d never used that method again. Nor did they speak of it. 

A new location did sound to Dwight like an understandable reason Kenneth would be struggling again. He followed Kenneth back into the restroom and began their usual routine. Now that Dwight was there, making Kenneth feel safe and secure, relief came quickly. “Ahhhhh…. God, that’s better….” As Kenneth’s moan met his ears, Dwight thought about how, for someone that was so ridiculously shy about urinating, he sure got awfully noisy when he finally actually went…

When Kenneth peed, he truly lost all control of himself; Almost the same thing that happened to him when he got angry, he was unable to restrain his mouth and the things that came out of it. Dwight had to admit that he kind of liked the noises Kenneth made when he relieved his bladder; They were just so primal, so filled with emotion and so, so unbelievably intense. He thought he’d only heard sounds like that come out his friend while he was urinating, but a moment later he realized that there was one other time he’d heard Kenneth moan as though his bloodstream was being pumped full of mana from Heaven. 

And that was during The Night They Didn’t Talk About. The night where, overcome with stress and a need to be near one another, to become parts of one another, they’d both allowed themselves to tear down every wall they had and just feel what they’d needed to feel. That night, Kenneth had moaned exactly like he was moaning now. 

When that registered to Dwight, he felt heat rising up in his body, alongside an eruption of concern. That meant that Kenneth routinely got so desperate to take a piss that when he let it out, it felt as good to him as the things from that night had felt. Dwight had had a lot of really enjoyable pees in his life, he’d been ready to burst loads of times, and the relief afterwards was always great… But, it wasn’t ever THAT good. For the pleasure of relief to cause Kenneth that extreme a level of euphoria, the agony he felt while desperate must have been something Dwight couldn’t even fathom. 

Kenneth shivered a little as he shook himself off, “Ahhhh,” he breathed out with a blush. “Th—Thank you… I needed that.” 

Dwight nodded to his friend, tried to erase the worry his own thoughts and speculations had brought forth. 

A few hours later, the two were ready to head to sleep. Kenneth was able to release his bladder without Dwight’s help before crawling into his bed. He laid there for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling, before turning onto his side to look at Dwight laying in his own bed. These beds were huge… Kenneth didn’t think he needed one all to himself… The door to their room was locked, and even if someone did come in, Winter was beginning to fall, and it was chilly. There was no harm in two friends cuddling up together to keep warm, was there? 

“Dwight, I’m really, really cold,” Kenneth said.

Dwight turned around to look at him. Kenneth had a low tolerance for cold, he’d be shivering as early as October just as the temperature began to drop. “I guess it is a little cool in here,” he said. “Want to—“ Dwight started to ask, just as Kenneth opened his mouth to say “Can I—“ 

Dwight laughed, especially when Kenneth’s face began to color… ‘My God, he’s cute…’ Dwight thought, then immediately chastised himself. That was not something he was supposed to think. Even if it was true. Even if it was just an objective fact. Kenneth was adorable, even when he was angry and screaming outrageous things, he was still absolutely precious… He was like a pissed off kitten trying to look tough, and the result was just irresistibly lovable. “Heh, you want to stay with me tonight? Just to keep warm?” 

“Just to keep warm,” Kenneth nodded, slipping from his own bed and into Dwight’s. He was out like a light not too long after, arms wrapped around Dwight’s body. Purely because it helped him stay warm, of course. 

*** 

Kenneth had spent a good portion of his life desperate to piss. Holding too much in for too long was just a default state of being for him. Whenever he thought of major events in his life, he always recalled that he’d at least kind of needed to relieve himself at the time whatever it was took place. He was always holding it, often to the point of extreme desperate neediness. 

So, when he thought to himself “I have never had to pee this badly before in my life!” he did not do so lightly, and he firmly believed himself to be correct; His bladder had never, ever been this full before. When he looked down, he could see it protruding to the point he looked like he had a beer-gut. 

Not that it was particularly easy to look down. He was chained to a wall. His arms stuck into shackles behind his back, each leg cuffed to the wall, immobilized as far apart from each other as they could get. He couldn’t even cross them or squeeze his thighs or anything, his legs were spread-eagle. And, he definitely couldn’t hold himself, his hands were bound. And, of course, he couldn’t unzip himself and let go of his bladder. 

He hadn’t gone in over a day, and ‘agony’ wasn’t even a strong enough word for what he was feeling.’Torture’ wasn’t, either. He didn’t think a word existed in any language to adequately describe the misery that had overtaken his body, that had made every nerve he had begin to scream for the release of death, that had made it impossible for him to keep a single thought in his head. 

He knew he’d been captured by an enemy, though he couldn’t remember how exactly that had transpired. He knew they’d chained him up down here in what appeared to be a dungeon. He knew they’d cruelly left behind a bucket— One which Kenneth would be willing to kill in order to relieve himself into. He knew they’d, even more cruelly, set the bucket into the basin of a large sink with the faucet just slightly cranked so that Kenneth was forced to endure the sound of the steady dripping. He knew he would NOT give the enemies the satisfaction of coming back to find him drenched in his own urine. 

He knew he had to pee worse than he’d ever had to pee before in his entire life. His eyes had been steadily leaking tears for what must have been hours, mirroring the maddening drips that continually splashed from the sink and into the bucket that Kenneth would have given his right leg to be able to drip into himself. Not that what he’d do into that bucket could ever be described as ‘dripping.’ He’d spray into it, he’d gush into it, he’d completely flood and desecrate it, drown it in twenty gallons of boiling hot piss. If he could just get out of these binds, if he could just get the bucket, if he could just… Go. Ohhh, he needed to GO! 

It felt like his body was going to tear apart, like something was going to rip and claw its way through his core and split him wide open. He clenched his eyes shut so he could no longer see the taunting bucket, which he swore was going to sprout hands at any moment and beckon to him with a finger in a “come-hither” gesture. He wished he could somehow shut his ears against the constant drip, drip, drip of the faucet as well. To blot out the sound, he’d have to cover his ears though, and to do that he’d need hands. And if he had the use of his hands, he honestly thought he’d just unzip and unload his burden onto the floor directly in front of himself. 

‘Do not wet yourself, Paulson…’ Kenneth ordered himself. ‘Hold it. Don’t let them see you as weak.’

‘Maybe they will be back soon,’ Kenneth thought hopefully. ‘Maybe they will—‘ 

‘No!’ Another part of his mind screamed. ‘Don’t even THINK about begging them for a toilet break! Make them think you can endure forever!’ 

Kenneth shuddered into the wall he was imprisoned against as he realized the full reality of his situation. Even if his captors— Whoever they happened to be— decided to allow him to urinate, what were the odds that his BODY would also allow it? Even if the enemies chose mercy, Kenneth’s body NEVER would… 

More tears fell as it settled in to him that he wasn’t just being held captive by his enemies, he was being held captive by HIMSELF as well… 

As the tears carried on, he strained his muscles as tight as he could, but began to hear the steady hiss of urine pooling against the floor. He was going. The enemies would return soon and find him soaked, soiled and crying. They would see him for the weak, pathetic little creature he was. He choked out a sob, his chest heaving and hitching as pee pounded the ground below him. 

After a moment, it registered that his clothing didn’t feel warm or heavy. He felt no actual dampness against his flesh. He also still felt the full brunt of his desperation, it wasn’t easing up at all, if anything it was getting worse… Humiliation and self-loathing stepped aside as confusion took center stage instead. 

Kenneth’s eyes snapped open. 

He was staring at the ceiling of the inn. 

He hadn’t been captured. 

He wasn’t in danger.

He still had to pee. 

He still had to pee so, so bad.

He forced himself into a sitting position, instantly regretting it as his bladder crumpled and lurched inside of him, the teeniest spurt of pee seeping from it. He clamped his hands over his member as tightly as he could, grateful for the thin material of his pajama pants allowing him to get an extra firm grip. He drug himself from the bed, squeezing all the more as the impact of his feet hitting the floor made a short burst of liquid trickle from his tip. 

He limped for the restroom door, moving as if he’d never actually had legs before and didn’t quite understand what they were for. He painfully yanked one hand away from his crotch to grip the doorknob—- 

Click. 

Locked. 

It was only then that he registered the sound of spraying water. Panicked, he looked down and confirmed that it wasn’t originating from him. Dwight was just in the shower… Dwight took really, really long showers whenever he got the opportunity to do it somewhere that warm water was readily available… 

Kenneth hoped the inn was out of hot water, but he doubted it. He began to pace in place just outside the door, the hissing blast of the shower causing his bladder to convulse with new frenzy, almost as violently as it had been doing in his nightmare. He just kept pacing, kept moving, lifting one foot and then the other, every part of his brain focused on one thing; Holding it. 

But, he couldn’t. He couldn’t hold it. Liquid started to trickle into his pajama pants, flooding against his cupped hands. He inhaled sharply, inadvertently only placing even more pressure onto his bladder. His pee just kept spurting. Every few seconds, there would be more and more that he just couldn’t manage to keep inside himself. 

He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t wet his pants right outside a restroom! He couldn’t let Dwight see that! He, once more, forced himself to move one hand off his dick, knocking loudly on the door. “Dwight!? I— I have to— I need—“ 

“Kenneth?” Dwight called back over the roar of the shower. “Are you okay?” 

“U—Unlock the door!” Kenneth begged, hating the panic and neediness in his voice. Hating how very weak he sounded, memories of how he’d felt in his dream began to re-enter his mind. “I can’t— I have to pee! It’s— It’s bad, I can’t—“ 

Dwight knew that if Kenneth was begging, that meant he really couldn’t wait, so he rinsed off the remaining soap as quickly as he could, wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. For a moment, Kenneth stood there and didn’t move, and Dwight worried that he hadn’t been fast enough after all, and that Kenneth was having an accident, but now that the shower was off he didn’t hear any more splashing… 

Kenneth had momentarily forgotten what he was actually in such a huge rush for. Dwight’s bare chest, still dripping with water lazily gliding down it, was just so… Firm and… And sturdy… And— Kenneth stopped staring when he felt a stray thread of urine trickle down his leg, he dashed in front of the toilet, still jumping in place as he tried to get the button of his pajama bottoms apart, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get a grip on it. “Nnnh!” he whimpered, electing instead to just yank his pants down his legs. 

Just in time, too. The instant the fabric was out of the line of fire, piss was spattering into the bowl in front of him. “Ahhhhhhhhhh….” He exhaled, arms hanging limply at his sides. 

Dwight blinked at him for a few seconds. That was… Way more than Kenneth was usually willing to expose, even when it was just the two of them! He understood his decision was probably just because of the heat of the moment, his need had overpowered his sense of reason of shame, but it was still just… Weird to see Kenneth peeing with his pants down so far, with his… backside exposed like that… Kenneth hadn’t even done that when he was little and it would have been more expected. 

Dwight knew he shouldn’t look at his friend’s exposed body, but it was hard not to… It was even harder not to look at the way his lithe, pale legs were quivering beneath him as he continued to gush. Dwight then realized the position of Kenneth’s hands— “Uh, Kenneth… I know that that probably feels really good, but remember to aim still, okay?” 

Kenneth blushed as he realized he’d been peeing handsfree and had gotten quite a bit on the rim of the bowl because of it. He just… Hadn’t been thinking. He couldn’t have been thinking. The relief had short-circuited his brain too much. He took hold of his member so he could actually direct his stream properly. 

After he’d been peeing for about a minute, and the horrific, frenzied edge of his need had long since faded away, he realized how exposed he actually was; How much of his body Dwight could see. But, to his bafflement, he didn’t think he was really all that bothered about it. Dwight was mostly naked right now too… They’d both shown one another more skin this morning than they’d expected to… 

Kenneth shivered violently as his faucet finally tapered off. He pulled his pants back up and wiped off the rim from where he’d missed. Dwight didn’t say anything to him about how much clothing he’d removed while he’d relieved himself, he knew doing so would only upset his friend. 

He just wished that there was a way to tell Kenneth that he had a really, really nice pair of legs without having to bring that up.

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So glad to see more of this! I enjoyed reading this series so much and just can't get enough of it. It easily tops my list. Love how fleshed-out the characters are, and the writing style is just superb! So pleased to see the new updates and look forward to more in the future, if you decide to continue.

Also, I have to say that the way you depicted shy bladder syndrome and the frustration and challenges that come with it is very true to life and resonates with some of my own experiences. I have to agree with Kenneth, that it is not something I would wish even on my worst enemy. But, I digress. Your writing describes it perfectly.

Edited by AlwaysOmo (see edit history)
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51 minutes ago, AlwaysOmo said:

So glad to see more of this! I enjoyed reading this series so much and just can't get enough of it. It easily tops my list. Love how fleshed-out the characters are, and the writing style is just superb! So pleased to see the new updates and look forward to more in the future, if you decide to continue.

Also, I have to say that the way you depicted shy bladder syndrome and the frustration and challenges that come with it is very true to life and resonates with some of my own experiences. I have to agree with Kenneth, that it is not something I would wish even on my worst enemy. But, I digress. Your writing describes it perfectly.

Thank you so much. I’m so glad you’re enjoying this, that means a lot to me. There is plenty more to come with this story. 

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Civilians and guards had separate facilities at the colosseum. It was considered improper for a guard to be seen in uniform using the same restroom as everyday people. This rule was strictly adhered to while in the colosseum, though that wasn’t easy. There were several civilian restrooms, all easy to locate when a person was desperate to unload their bladder, but there was only one restroom for guards. This restroom was tucked away and out of sight, since The Leader preferred that everyone saw his guards as super-humans that did not have needs to fulfill. 

The exact place it was hidden was underneath the stage where The Leader gave his speeches. It was meant to look more like a supply space, or something of top-secret importance that only guards could access. The fact that only one toilet was available to guards meant that many of them would suffer a bit of desperation when attending a speech. 

The fact that the only toilet available to guards was situated directly beneath a man speaking loudly and clearly into a microphone to the cheers of tons of people, meant that Kenneth would suffer more than just “a bit” of desperation when attending a speech. The speeches could last for hours, and the activity at the colosseum that followed could last longer still, and Kenneth just could. Not. Go. 

He’d try, of course. Eventually, once his need reached a fevered pitch, he’d have to force himself to at least try, but it was completely impossible. It was not very relaxing to have someone shouting directly above your head. It was not very relaxing to be bombarded with cheers and shouts. It was not very relaxing to know that you’d been standing at the only toilet tons and tons of people needed to use for a long time, and that it was a guarantee someone was getting impatient and annoyed with you. It was a total maelstrom of insurmountable obstacles for Kenneth’s nervous, yet very full bladder. 

So, Kenneth could do nothing. Nothing, that was, except force himself to hold it in until he could leave the colosseum, make it back to the inn, and at last succumb to bliss as he finally emptied out…

Before leaving for the speech, Kenneth stood at the toilet for several minutes, trying to make certain he’d squeezed out every last drop from his bladder. He was pretty sure he was fully drained, but still didn’t want to zip up yet. Several minutes later he was able to force out one more tiny pulse of droplets, just three or four drips really, but enough to make him feel a little more confident that his bladder had given all that it had to give. 

“Are you ready to go yet, idiots?” Bryce called, knocking on the door to Kenneth and Dwight’s room. Kenneth zipped himself up finally and left the restroom. He and Dwight followed Bryce out of the inn and towards the colosseum. After a while, Bryce paused in front of a shop. “This store has a single stall toilet,” he informed. “Paulson, go.” 

Kenneth gave him a perplexed look, “Bryce, I—“ 

“Go,” Bryce repeated. “Now. I know you’re a completely idiotic waste of skin, that’s why you need me to keep you from making the kinds of horrendous decisions you normally do.” 

“I make good decisio—“ 

“Then GO,” Bryce snapped. “That is an order! Smith, assist him!”

“Bryce,” Dwight said. “I know you’re trying to help out, but you’re making him uncomfor—“ 

“Assist him AT ONCE,” Bryce barked. 

Kenneth felt his face flaming as he and Dwight entered the shop and made their way to the restroom in the back. Kenneth locked the door behind them. Checked two— No, three!— times that it was actually locked, then unzipped. Dwight stroked up and down Kenneth’s arms; “He really IS trying to help, Kenneth,” he said. 

“Well he’s BAD at it,” Kenneth said. 

“…Yes, he is,” Dwight agreed. “But, his heart’s at least in the right place now, that’s got to count for something.” 

Kenneth sighed, he rubbed a palm beneath his navel, trying to get his flow going, trying to forget how angry Father got with him if he peed when it hadn’t been a true emergency. “It still FEELS like he’s teasing me, though.” 

“I know,” Dwight said softly, rubbing a circle into Kenneth’s back. “He does care about you though, and I know that deep down, you care about him too.” 

“I hate him,” Kenneth corrected. “He’s a dick, he yells all the time, he’s always insulting me, he’s full of himself, and—“ 

“So, you hate him because he’s too much like you?” Dwight gathered. “You know that’s the only reason you two fight all the time, right? You’re just too similar.” 

“I am nothing like Bryce,” Kenneth insisted. “And I don’t care about him, and he doesn’t care about me. I would gladly feed him to an alligator at the first opportunity.” 

Dwight sighed, continuing to rub, “I know that there’s something inside both of you that really does care,” he said. “You guys have way too much fun messing with each other to not feel at least a little warmth for one another…” 

“I—“ Kenneth’s next protestation was interrupted by his bladder finally giving out, pee trickling into the bowl. He was a little alarmed by how much he’d had in his bladder, it could not have been more than one hour since they’d left the inn, and already he’d refilled enough to release a decently long, steady stream… It was a good thing he was letting a little extra out here, maybe he’d have a better chance of making it through the day in relative comfort now. Bryce had been right to tell him to go. 

Not that he’d ever say as much. 

Instead, he simply thanked Dwight, washed up, and returned to the street, where he didn’t say one word to Bryce. Bryce, however, did open his mouth; “Did it work?” he asked. “You’re not hurting? You don’t feel—“ 

“It worked,” Kenneth said tersely. 

“Oh, that’s good,” Bryce said. He scoffed and cleared his throat. “What did I do to get stuck with someone that needs special accommodations for pissing? How ridiculous!” 

Kenneth scowled, “I can’t help i—“ 

“I know,” Bryce interrupted. “I— You’re really okay?” 

“YES.” 

Dwight shook his head as he watched their exchange. Bryce going back and forth between ‘concerned’ and ‘taunting’ like a light switch being flicked on and off over and over was giving Dwight a little whiplash. 

By the time they arrived at the colosseum, Bryce was really wishing he’d peed at the shop as well. He’d just been so focused on helping to ensure Kenneth wouldn’t have to… feel…THAT that his own needs had slipped his mind. 

Not that he’d admit to such a thing. 

Because he didn’t care about Kenneth, really. Not at all. 

Once they were inside, Bryce lingered longingly as they passed by one of the civilian restrooms. He wished so much he could just run in there and unload his burden, but he was in uniform. It wouldn’t be proper. He’d arrive at the restroom he was allowed to use soon enough. His bladder throbbed with anticipation. 

The guards were to sit in the first few rows in front of the stage. After instructing Kenneth and Dwight to sit there and stay quiet, Bryce made his way to the stage and the door located beneath it. He gave the door a tug, only to find it locked. He grimaced. It was not permitted for guards to wait outside the door to the restroom in case civilians saw and figured out that it WAS a restroom and that, conversely, the guards were not infallible and did in fact have needs. 

Bryce definitely had needs. He had a very, very, very urgent need. One that needed to be satiated and tended to immediately. He knocked once on the door, and upon receiving no response, winced and returned to his seat. His toes began to tap against the ground within seconds of sitting down, and his eyes remained fixed on the door to the restroom, eagerly anticipating the moment it would open. 

He told himself to relax. He was strong. He was healthy. He was a high ranking guard that commanded respect and obedience. He could handle a need to pee for a few more minutes. This wasn’t like… Uh… This wasn’t like the time on the train, or the evening in The Leader's pantry. He wasn’t that desperate. He was in control. 

A moment later, the door opened and a man stepped out. Bryce scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pangs of need that thrummed through his middle at the sudden movement. Just a couple more minutes… Just a couple more minutes and he’d be empty and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore. 

He strode quickly to the restroom and locked himself inside. His bladder gave a sudden lurch at the sight of the toilet. and he had to pause for a moment to cross his ankles and adjust himself a little. Now that he was so close to peeing, he was all the more aware of just how badly he needed to do it. 

As he made it the last few feet towards the toilet, his hands worked at his belt. After it parted, he made quick work of his buttons and gripped his zipper. His muscles already began to loosen in anticipation, and he had to squeeze his thighs together to keep from dribbling a few seconds too early. 

He gave the zipper a pull, and— 

It didn’t move. 

At all. 

Frowning, he yanked harder. 

Nothing. 

It was like he was trying to drag it through a huge glob of superglue, syrup, molasses and chewing gum… 

Bryce really liked chewing gum; He had a problem with grinding his teeth when he was angry or nervous and gum helped with that. Had he… somehow actually gotten some on his zipper? He wasn’t sure how he’d even manage to DO that, so probably not. He peered down to check, and that didn’t seem to be the case.

He couldn’t see any reason why his zipper should be so uncooperative. But, try as he might, he just couldn’t get it to lower. He started to sway in place. Standing in front of a toilet with a full bladder and not being able to use it was like putting a huge plate of bacon and sausages in front of a dog whose mouth was tied shut by a muzzle. It was cruel torture. 

He spun around so he was no longer staring at the thing that he SHOULD have already started pumping full of his piss. He gripped his zipper one more time and pulled as hard as he could. It didn’t budge even the tiniest bit. His pants suddenly felt ridiculously tight and confining. The waistband suddenly pinched his bladder in the most vicious way. With his belt and buttons out of the way, Bryce could see the little curved bump of tension that made up his full bladder. 

This was ridiculous! His frustration grew as he continued to battle with his stubborn zipper. It was like God was mocking him. He’d held it in and made it to the toilet in time, but now he was gonna piss his pants anyway because he couldn’t just get them to come off! “Come on!” he moaned quietly. “Come on, you stupid thing! I have to go!” 

The zipper did not care about his pleas, and instead chose to make certain that his cock remained confined and unable to spray forth the liquid Bryce was really starting to struggle to contain. He gave up on the zipper, and gripped onto his waistband. He’d just push his pants all the way down instead. But, the uniform pants were so tight. He couldn’t get them to go far enough down his hips to free his cock. He kept pushing, kept fighting, every few seconds he’d wind his legs together, cross them back and forth, palm his crotch as particularly strong spasms assailed his body. 

Then, he heard The Leader begin to speak. He heard his voice booming, and the riotous applause of the audience. And he was in here, doing battle with his pants, instead of out there listening like he was SUPPOSED to. Flinching, he did his buttons back up. His hands stilled over his belt. He really, really didn’t want to put it back together. But, he imagined The Leader noticing him in the audience, noticing that his belt wasn’t fixed, noticing that he was out of uniform. The Leader would see it only as a sign of great disrespect, not as a sign that Bryce needed to pee bad enough that the whites of his eyes were turning yellow… 

He sucked in a breath, tried to suck in his bladder along with it, and fixed his belt. Instantly, he felt it dig into him, he felt it squeeze, he felt it pummel his poor bladder, trying to force all the urine inside of it out through Bryce’s straining pipes. 

He held himself for a moment longer, knowing that he couldn’t hobble back to his seat with his hands between his legs in front of The Leader and the huge crowd. Gingerly, he released his hold on his dick, and exited the room. 

Walking back to his seat was a challenge. Each time one of his boots struck the ground below him, he’d feel his bladder being jiggled around like gelatin on a cold plate. Twice, he felt a droplet begin to bead at his tip. Twice, he felt it soak into the front of his boxers. Twice, he felt himself burning with the shame and annoyance of it all. 

He at last arrived back at his seat beside Kenneth and Dwight. Since they weren’t in the very first row and there was someone in front of him, Bryce felt he had enough privacy to resume squeezing himself. As soon as his hands had cupped themselves around his opening, relief settled over his shoulders. His hands felt like a nice, sturdy dam that would keep the flood at bay as long as necessary. He actually sighed a little. “Ahh…” 

Kenneth stopped looking at The Leader and turned to his side when he heard Bryce exhale. He noticed immediately where Bryce’s hands were. His first instinct was to laugh, naturally. But, when he realized Bryce had just come BACK from the toilet with what was obviously an un-emptied bladder, the giggles died in his throat. Bryce wasn’t… Having ‘that’ again, was he? 

Kenneth thought Bryce deserved many terrible things. Bryce deserved to stub every one of his toes in a single day. Bryce deserved to find cockroaches in his bed. Bryce deserved for both sides of his pillow to forever be warm. But, not even Bryce deserved the intense, nonstop torment of Paruresis. “Bryce?” Kenneth asked, trying to inject a tenderness into his voice that he rarely used with anybody that wasn’t named ‘Dwight’. “Are you okay?” 

Embarrassment swept through Bryce’s body like a hurricane— And, oh, he should NOT have thought about something so watery. “O—Of course I’m okay,” he insisted, yet failed to move his hands away from his groin. 

“I can… I can help you again,” Kenneth offered. “You go in first, and I’ll go in a few minutes later so it doesn’t look like we’re going in there together.” 

“I don’t need your help,” Bryce said, irritation flooding from him in waves. If only he could allow something else to flood from him in waves… 

“Would you rather Dwight do it?” Kenneth asked. “He’s better at it than I am.” 

“No, I do not need help making myself piss,” Bryce scowled. It wasn’t a lie. He knew he could piss. He knew that for a fact because he’d just had a pretty massive leak a couple seconds ago. His body wasn’t locked up, just his clothing. He squeezed himself harder, pressed his legs together, tapped his feet. 

What was he gonna do!? The only thing he could think to try would be to CUT his pants off of his body, but he hadn’t brought any other pants to this; Something that was likely to become a problem whether he cut them off or not… He really didn’t think he could wait until he got all the way back to the inn and could slice himself free. He didn’t think he could make it to a shop that sold pants he could put on after he’d destroyed these. He didn’t think he could make it to the end of the speech. He’d have an accident for sure, he WAS having an accident NOW. His dribbles and leaks had failed to slow down, and his heart was pounding out of control. 

He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t soak his uniform in front of all these people. He couldn’t soil himself when The Leader was RIGHT THERE. He pictured piss erupting from his tip with such a violent, gushing hiss that it was loud enough to make The Leader fall silent. Everyone here would wonder why he’d stopped talking, then they’d notice the splattering sounds. Then, they’d notice they were emitting from Bryce, that he was pissing himself. 

He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this! 

“Paulson!” Bryce barked in a quiet, yet gruff, tone. “I demand your assistance.” 

Kenneth nodded. He blushed when he realized that Bryce had just asked him for help in much the same way HE always asked Dwight for help… He didn’t want to admit that Dwight was right; He didn’t want to admit he and Bryce could possibly have anything in common with each other. 

“Okay, you go over there first,” Kenneth said. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Just hold on until then, alright? But, you can try to go before I get there, of course.” 

Bryce shakily stood. He couldn’t move his hands this time. And he couldn’t walk upright. He was almost totally doubled over, hands gripping firmly between his pinched together legs. Anyone looking at him would know he was bursting to piss. Hopefully they were all just focused on The Leader instead. 

He made it to the restroom and stopped himself from locking the door. Kenneth needed to come in here, after all. He faced away from the toilet as he performed a very elaborate dance in his spot. His knees knocked together, his toes tapped, his hands pressed down for all they were worth. “I can’t hold it…” he whimpered. “I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it…” 

Remembering how Kenneth had told him to ‘try’, he did exactly that. He TRIED to get his zipper to come down one more time, but to no avail. He didn’t want to consider what he’d do if Kenneth failed to get it apart as well. He’d pee himself. Completely. He’d be utterly drenched and humiliated in front of the largest crowd he’d ever seen. 

The door opened a couple minutes later. “Okay, Bryce,” Kenneth said. “It is because you can hear The Leader yelling, isn’t it? That would make anybody nervo—“ 

“No!” Bryce squeaked. “That’s not— I’m not nervous.” 

Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Bryce, I can’t help you if you keep—“ 

“My zipper is stuck!” Bryce cried out. “I can’t get my freaking ‘thing’ loose!” 

A smile spread Kenneth’s lips then. Now that he knew Bryce wasn’t suffering the abysmal torture of a shy bladder, he couldn’t help but see the humor. “Eheheh, that’s it?” he asked. 

“Yessssss!” Bryce hissed. “I order you to fix it! If I have an accident, I’ll— I’ll make you… I’ll make you… Uh…” 

Kenneth snorted as he got onto his knees to try and work Bryce’s zipper. “Wow, you’re so desperate you can’t even think of mean things to say anymore, can you?” 

Bryce stepped in place and stared up at the ceiling as his teeth ground against each other. “You… You are a…. Stupid…” 

Kenneth groaned, “Do you want me to help you or not, jackass?” 

“Please help!” 

“Okay,” Kenneth said. “Move your hands.” 

“I can’t!” Bryce insisted. “If I let go, I’ll—“ 

“I can’t get to your zipper if your hands are in the way.” 

Bryce reluctantly forced his hands away from his dick. When Kenneth unclasped his belt, the relief of that small bit of extra pressure being removed made Bryce moan. “Ohhh…” 

Kenneth flinched and pulled his hands back towards himself. “Ack! You’re not… Are you going?” 

“No!” Bryce snapped, embarrassment heating his face. “It’s just… It feels good to not have the belt on anymore…”

Kenneth reluctantly went back to helping out. He was relieved when he started to take apart Bryce’s buttons and didn’t feel any warm wetness beneath his fingertips. Finally, he could reach Bryce’s zipper, and he could tell right away what the issue was. Some of the surrounding fabric had become bunched up in it. Kenneth gripped some of the caught fabric and tried to tug it free, when Bryce made a pained, panicked sounding shriek that Kenneth had never heard come out of his mouth before. 

Then, Bryce’s hands were back to gripping his cock. 

Kenneth jolted back, “I can’t fix it if you—“ 

“You… You squeezed me, and I… I can’t hold it if you squeeze me.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” Kenneth said. But, Kenneth was pretty certain that anything he did to dislodge Bryce’s zipper could easily result in him inadvertently putting extra pressure onto his bladder as well. Kenneth hadn’t even thought he’d pushed down very hard, at most he’d brushed a knuckle over Bryce’s midsection. If THAT had been enough to make him lose a spurt… 

Kenneth imagined Bryce soaking himself where he stood before Kenneth could fix his zipper for him. The Leader would most definitely NOT be pleased if the floor in here was soiled. “Um… Bryce, can you maybe stand over the toilet while I do this? So that if you… So that we don’t have to worry about the floor if stuff goes wrong?” 

Bryce was grateful that Kenneth had found it in himself to not say the words ‘if you have an accident’. He hadn’t expected Kenneth to care at all about protecting his pride. He did as Kenneth said, and hovered over the toilet bowl with his legs slightly parted. This position, mixed with the knowledge that there was a toilet directly beneath him, made it even harder to hold out and he felt dribbles spurt from his tip every second or two. 

Kenneth went back to tugging the fabric out of the way of the zipper. Now that he knew what the issue was and what he needed to do, it at least was coming away quickly. Bryce kept whimpering, and Kenneth could both hear urine hissing from him and feel his crotch dampening beneath the zipper. After he’d noticed the slick warmth accumulating, Kenneth registered exactly which part of Bryce’s body his hands were making contact with and bit his lip as heat surged through him. Damn, this was really awkward… 

Finally, Kenneth had removed the snag and gave the zipper a yank, it glided smoothly downwards just as it was supposed to. When the sound of it parting reached Bryce’s ears, his body worked on autopilot, he shoved his pants down and allowed himself to drop onto the toilet beneath him. He was pissing like a firehose before his ass had even hit the seat. 

PSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

His ocean sprayed against the bowl with an absolutely torrential hiss. “Ahhhhhhh….” His eyes started to droop closed as his head tipped backwards and he slumped against the toilet tank. He could feel his legs going weak, felt them shuddering and tingling. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he may have actually fallen over. Shivers coursed through his entire body. For a moment, he forgot about everything that wasn’t related to how amazing it felt to just… Not have to fight anything anymore, to just let his body do what it had to do and expel all the liquid that had been torturing him for so long. 

Then he heard Kenneth snort. 

Bryce’s eyes cracked open, “You’re still here?!” Kenneth at least had the decency to turn and face the other direction once Bryce had noticed him, but still… 

“I thought you wouldn’t want me to open the door until you were done,” Kenneth said. “Heheh, you pee sitting down?” 

“Sh—Shut up! Everyone does sometimes,” Bryce snapped over the sound of his still gushing torrent. Christ… How long could he possibly pee for? It felt like it wasn’t ever gonna end! 

“I never do,” Kenneth shrugged. 

“What?” Bryce asked. “What if it’s the middle of the night and it’s dark?” 

“Nope.” 

“What about all the times you’ve injured your legs and need help standing at all?” 

“Not then, either,” Kenneth said. “Dwight comes with me so I can lean against him.” 

Before Bryce could respond, he had to moan again as another wave of relief overtook him. “Why?” 

Kenneth mumbled something inaudible. 

“What?” Bryce asked. It finally felt like his stream was winding down, the awful pressure inside of him was being replaced by a pleasant, if slightly tender, emptiness. 

“My… The shyness is a LOT worse if I sit down,” Kenneth said. “It’s just… completely impossible for me to get myself to actually go that way. I have to take off too much, it makes me feel more exposed. And, if I’m sitting down, I’m more vulnerable to being attacked, and stuff. I can’t defend myself.” 

Bryce reached down to shake himself off, “Why would you be attacked while—“ he stopped abruptly, remembering that for a decent chunk of Kenneth’s life, being attacked while attempting to pee was a very common occurrence. Bryce stood and pulled his pants back up. He was a little reluctant to zip them however, nervous that it would get stuck once more. He did so anyway, as slowly and carefully as he could. 

As he walked over to the sink, he winced at all the dampness he could feel between his thighs. He’d really lost an awful lot of his control before he’d been able to actually use that toilet… He checked himself over, there were some patches on the lower half of his uniform shirt that were definitely noticeably darker… 

“Just go sit back down, by the time the speech is over it should be mostly dry,” Kenneth said. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Nope, but if it’s not, I’ll only make fun of you a little. I promise.”

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10 hours ago, astralis said:

Dead serious when I say I feel a visceral actual dislike for Karl, what a fucking piece of shit human omg. And hurting my fav, no less 😞 I hope he dies in an "unfortunately" timed accident??! 

He really is the worst guy... 

*** 

“I’m going to fix this,” Kenneth declared as Bryce sat down on one of the beds. 

Bryce rubbed beneath his eyes one more time. He’d showered and changed his clothes, but he still didn’t feel much better. He felt absolutely gored and hollowed out. He felt like he’d lost something irreplaceable, like a vital organ had been torn from him. Something important was missing. It couldn’t have only been the loss of his pride before Karl once more, it hurt too much to be just that. He sniffed harshly, “You can’t fix this.” 

“I’m Kenneth Paulson,” Kenneth said. “What do I do best?” 

“Whine?” Bryce asked, trying to force a smile so that Kenneth would know he was trying to joke around. 

“No,” Kenneth sighed. “Pranks, and revenge. If we make Karl pee his pants in front of you, then you’ll be even. He won’t be able to make fun of you anymore.” 

“How can you do that?”

Kenneth laid himself down on the other bed and sighed, “I don’t know…” he admitted. “Um… You know things about him, right? When you were in school together, did you ever see him needing to go badly?” 

Bryce thought for a moment. “Once,” he said. “The class was brought to a farmhouse, and they hadn’t gotten indoor plumbing there yet. Karl wouldn’t use the outhouse because he thought it was disgusting. He was squirming a whole lot by the time we got back to school.” 

“So, he has a fear of germs?” Kenneth asked. 

“Maybe,” Bryce said. “He also said that using an outhouse was ‘beneath him’ though, so maybe he just thought it would hurt his image if he went into something dirty and ‘common’?” Bryce had grown up in a wealthier part of the country, but Karl was the child of the richest people in his hometown, it was possible he viewed outhouses as something for ‘poor people’ back then, unworthy of his status. Hopefully he still thought that way. 

“Okay,” Kenneth nodded. “So, we’re going to take him somewhere with only an outhouse. And keep him there until he can’t hold it.” 

“But, what if he doesn’t end up needing to go at all?” 

“We can give him a lot to drink.” 

“I think he’ll realize something strange is happening if you try to make him drink a ton…” 

“Oh, right…” Kenneth agreed. He tried to come up with an answer, but Dwight did first. 

“Dandelion tea,” Dwight said. 

“What?” Kenneth asked. 

“Dandelion tea,” Dwight repeated. “I had one cup of it before a speech last year, and after less than thirty minutes I was out of my seat and could barely walk to the toilet.” 

“That’s weird,” Kenneth said. “It’s not supposed to happen so fast, did you forget to go before the speech again that ti—“ 

“No,” Dwight interrupted. “It was the tea. It just went right through me. I had some again one of the days I had to stand guard, and after less than an hour I was hurting so bad I had to just go right where I was. I didn’t even have time to turn around first so I’d have more privacy.” 

Kenneth tried to process that. He didn’t know certain drinks would cause a person’s bladder to fill extra quickly. How strange. “What if Karl already knows the tea does that, though?” 

“We can mix it in with something else,” Dwight said. “Some of that orange soda you’re always drinking.”

“Aw, Karl doesn’t deserve my soda,” Kenneth whined. 

“If we put it in water, he’d be able to taste it.” 

“I know…” 

“Where do we take him, though?” Dwight asked. “Most places have indoor plumbing in the city, so it won’t work.” 

“We are a little North of some old, abandoned farmland,” Kenneth said. “That would be perfect.” 

“Alright, but how do we convince him to come with us there?” 

Kenneth thought for a moment. But, only for a moment. “Oh, we act like we are on his side! We say that we are planning to prank Bryce at the farm.” 

“And ask if he wants to see?” 

“And we’ll say we’re only asking him—“ 

“—Because we noticed how funny he thought Bryce pissing himself was!” 

Bryce started to feel that same hollowness again. It wasn’t because he’d been reminded of his accident, because he didn’t think he’d forget about it for as long as he lived no matter how infrequently it got mentioned. He just… They were finishing each other’s sentences again. They were working so well together and figuring out the answers to each problem with so much ease… 

“Alright, Bryce,” Kenneth said with a smile. “By tomorrow evening at this time, you and Karl are going to be even.” 

It was then Bryce realized the other thing that was leaving him feeling so gutted; Kenneth was taking charge of all of this, he was taking care of Bryce. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Bryce was supposed to have power over Kenneth. Bryce was of a higher rank, he was more mature, he was more serious… He was supposed to be in command all the time. He wasn’t supposed to have others take care of him, and he especially wasn’t supposed to have Kenneth take care of him! 

Above all, he most definitely was not supposed to LIKE the feeling of being cared for like that! 

*** 

The next morning, Kenneth waited outside of Karl’s room and told him all about his great plan to humiliate Bryce at the farm. “Bryce is a huge dick,” Kenneth explained. “And, it was hilarious when he pissed himself in front of you yesterday. So, I think he’d be even more embarrassed if we do this thing with you there to watch.” 

Karl agreed without even a second’s hesitation. Kenneth was glad, if a little surprised. This guy must have really had it out for Bryce if he was willing to follow a total stranger to an old farm outside of town. For all Karl knew, Kenneth could have been a psychotic serial killer that was trying to lure him to his secret torture dungeon. 

In a way, Kenneth kind of was. Just, he only intended to torture Karl’s bladder today. 

As the four walked through town, Dwight took a couple bottles of soda from his shoulder bag. He’d put the dandelion tea into one of them, and had peeled the label ever so slightly to keep from mixing them up before replacing the cap. “Oh, it is hot today,” Dwight said. “Kenneth, I know how you get dehydrated fast, want something to drink?” 

Kenneth, whom had been babbling to Bryce about this ‘great thing’ he just ‘had to see’ in order to keep up the illusion that BRYCE was the one being targeted for a prank, paused. “Yes, Dwight,” he said, taking both the bottles. 

Karl frowned, “Do you really need two of those? Don’t you have any for your guest?” 

“Of course,” Kenneth nodded. He considered the bottles in his hands for a moment. The one that was booby-trapped was the one with… With the label still intact, yeah. He handed that one to Karl and opened the other one for himself. 

They continued walking and walking, and as they began to make their way down the dusty roads that existed outside of town, Kenneth felt a sudden, blazingly intense pressure at the base of his cock. All at once, it was as though he was going to start spraying urine everywhere if he didn’t get himself in front of a toilet right that very second. He’d only ever felt such an intense urge to pee come out of absolutely nowhere back when he’d had his urinary tract infection. There was literally no build-up. Just, one second he was walking along, comfortable as could be, and the next he felt like a gorilla was mashing its fist into his bladder. 

So surprised was he by the instantaneous onslaught of need that it took him a moment to figure out what must have occurred; He’d mixed up the cans. He’d drank the one with the dandelion tea mixed in. That was why it had tasted a little funny, and that was why he was now unexpectedly fighting not to pee his pants after having just relieved himself less than an hour ago before leaving the inn. 

This was bad. This was very bad. He wanted to demand that everyone stop and turn back around so he could try to find somewhere to pee back in town. But, knew the chances of him finding such a location were slim. He tried to just keep walking, tried to ignore his urge. The intense, blinding spasms had passed, now his need was just a constant throbbing hum beneath his belt. One hand darted up to his mouth and he sunk his teeth into his index finger. 

He realized what he was doing, and that both Dwight and Bryce knew exactly what it meant. But, even as embarrassment flared, he didn’t care. He had to pee so much, he just HAD to bite something. 

Dwight noticed right away, “Kenneth—“ 

“Bryce, Karl,” Kenneth said sharply. “Wait here a moment. Dwight and I need to… Uh…” he groped around for an explanation. “We have to…” 

“We need to check the map,” Dwight supplied. “To make sure we’re going the right way!” 

“Yes,” Kenneth agreed. “That.” He tugged Dwight off to the side and into the bushes surrounding the dirt path. “Dwight,” he whispered harshly. “I messed this up. I messed this up really bad.” 

Dwight tried to act like he was more surprised Kenneth’s plan had gone wrong somehow. Even though he could count the number of times Kenneth had concocted a plan that didn’t end up going horribly awry on one hand. “What happened?” 

“I switched up the bottles.” 

“… Oh, so you drank the one with the—“ 

“Yessss!” Kenneth hissed. “And you were definitely right about it being intense! I… I feel like the pee’s all the way up to my esophagus!” 

Dwight shut his eyes, “Thank you for that image, Kenneth.” Sometimes he really wished Kenneth would be as vague and abstract when describing his need to HIM as he was with everyone else… 

“Well, you’re welcome,” Kenneth said. “But, I can’t be out here right now, and I can’t leave, either! I promised Bryce I’d make Karl pee his pants!” 

“There are more bottles,” Dwight said. “And I put even more of the tea into those, so it will definitely hit Karl. Just, keep acting natural.”

Kenneth began to practically jog in place. “I can’t drink another bottle! If I do, I’ll explode and you will have to call someone in to scrape up my urine flecked remains!” 

Dwight groaned, “Whatever happened to ‘I must attend to something pressing’? Why can’t you just say that?” 

“Because, I am not uncomfortable when we are together!” Kenneth said. “I mean, I guess I AM uncomfortable right now, but that’s just because I’ve got to piss like an eight-month pregnant racehorse lost in the ocean!” 

“Oh my God…” Dwight sighed. Kenneth could be so crass when he was upset. Still, Dwight couldn’t help but think it was funny how he’d be so vulgar about his urge when it was just the two of them, knowing how uptight his friend would be if he were with anyone else. “Do you have to pee, Kenneth?” He asked, laughing slightly. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Well, you’re still going to need to drink with Karl, or he might guess that there’s something wrong with the sodas. Just try and take little sips, okay?” 

Kenneth shook his head, his bladder was already shuddering at the thought of having to accommodate even more than it already was. “Can’t you drink with him instead? O—Or, can Bryce? You guys can pee whenever you have to, I—“ 

Dwight looked around, “Can you try and go here? I know it’s not much cover, but—“ 

“I can’t,” Kenneth interrupted. “They’re both too close, and the bushes are so scraggly, and I just—“ 

“Okay,” Dwight said. “I’ll drink the other sodas, I have a new plan anyway. To help insure that the rest of the tea makes it into Karl.” 

Dwight’s plan unfolded the minute they were back on the path. “Hey, Karl. Bryce said you’re super tough. But, I bet you can’t drink soda as fast as I can!” 

“I definitely can,” Karl said. 

“We’ll see about that!” Dwight took out two more bottles, and made extra certain that it was the tainted one that he handed to Karl. Dwight drank his own bottle as fast as he could, and beat Karl whom, predictably, demanded a re-match. In this fashion, Dwight made absolutely certain that three diuretic-infused bottles of soda had gone down Karl’s throat. 

Dwight turned around to give Kenneth a thumbs up, and his face fell. He should have known that Kenneth wasn’t doing so well when he’d actually managed to fall so far behind everyone else. Ordinarily, Kenneth was bubbling with so much energy that if he was walking with a group, he darted super far ahead and just kept running. 

That definitely wasn’t happening now. He was walking with his knees rubbing together, and his toes pointed inwards. One hand was jammed into his mouth, and the other was stuck around his waist, almost but not quite making contact with his crotch. At least this was confirmation that the dandelion tea certainly made people need the restroom, but Dwight was seriously concerned for his friend. 

Bryce looked back too, wondering what the hold-up was. He too felt something akin to worry when he saw the obvious distress Kenneth was in. He also felt a bit of frustration. He ran back to where Kenneth was lagging and whispered; “Paulson! You moronic itchy sweater of a human being! I ordered you to relieve yourself before we left, why did you disobe—“ 

“I didn’t,” Kenneth hissed. “I did go then!” 

“I don’t believe you, your bladder is twice the size of this country, no way you already—“ 

“I mixed up the first two bottles,” Kenneth whimpered miserably. His face scrunched up and he pinched his eyes closed as he finally allowed his hand to grip itself around his aching cock. 

“…Oh,” Bryce said. His tone softened a little when he realized that, ultimately, Kenneth’s current plight was only occurring out of a desire to make HIM feel better… He looked up and down the trail, but the area was fairly barren. What bushes were there were right out in the open. Maybe Kenneth could crouch behind a particularly large one and be mostly concealed, but Bryce doubted that would be satisfactory in easing his shy bladder. And, if what Kenneth had said yesterday was true, that taking his pants all the way down made him even more anxious than usual, then squatting to pee as he hid behind a bush just wasn’t going to happen. 

He thought of the outhouse that they sought to torment Karl with. Provided it wasn’t so dilapidated now that the door had broken off, or didn’t shut any more… “You are good with directions. Are we close?” 

Kenneth winced, his other hand joining the first to clutch harshly against his dick. He hadn’t leaked yet, but he could feel it coming. It was right at his tip now, his hands the only things keeping it from reaching his clothes. “Nnnh, yes,” he said. “Should be… Should be fifteen minutes or so.” 

“I hope you can use the outhouse,” Bryce said. “If not… I’ll… I’ll think of something. Dwight and I will. You won’t have to hurt… Not that I care,” he added quickly.

Kenneth kept focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, squeezing himself with all his meager strength. He felt himself dribble a few times, felt his urine swishing and swirling against his opening, trying to force its way out of him. He was so focused on maintaining a modicum control over his own need that he didn’t notice what was happening to Karl. 

Karl had begun to slow down. Every so often, he would pause his steps to adjust his fly and shift his weight around a little. He was beginning to sweat and lingered whenever they passed a patch of bushes. It wasn’t until he asked how much further they still had to walk that Kenneth realized the tea must have been hitting him. 

“Paulson says about fifteen minutes,” Bryce replied. “Is there something you are in a rush for?” 

“No,” Karl said. “I am just growing bored of having to look at you. Anybody ever tell you you’ve got the kind of face that just cries out for a punch?” 

Bryce fell silent, and Kenneth was confused. That hadn’t even been a GOOD insult! He and Bryce said WAY worse things to one another all the time! But, Bryce never just… clammed up like that no matter WHAT Kenneth called him. Kenneth once called him an intolerable excuse for a sorry ass pastry and Bryce had just smirked and let Kenneth know that he was the reason God had given humans middle fingers! 

So, it couldn’t have been Karl’s words that were upsetting Bryce so much… 

What all had Karl done to Bryce in their past? 

While Kenneth grew more and more lost in his misery, only able to comprehend the throbbing, pulsating need erupting from inside his body, Dwight and Bryce kept their attention on Karl. Karl was obviously feeling the full effects of the tea now… He jerked his hips every few steps as they walked along. He’d bend forward at the waist ever so slightly before trying to straighten back up again quick as a flash. His hands danced around near his waist, occasionally tucking between his knees but not daring to meet his crotch. Sometimes, he’d fold his hands behind his back, only to yank them apart and double over. Once, Dwight managed to pick up the very soft sound of hissing liquid, and from the look on Karl’s face he was pretty sure it hadn’t come from Kenneth. 

Soon, even with as desperate as Kenneth was, he was also able to pick up on Karl’s anxious squirming. He tried to keep his eyes off the other desperate man, the sight of the pee-dance Karl couldn’t help but perform was making Kenneth’s own bladder flare with even more intense need than before. Kenneth concentrated on evening out his breaths, he could feel the skin of his abdomen straining to stretch around the curved stone of his bladder, so distended and painful in his center. 

He caught Karl looking back at him and tried to walk normally once more, but he was so full of piss that he couldn’t even guess what normal was anymore. He managed to move his hands from his cock, but he needed to keep his legs very, very close together and couldn’t stand up straight at all. The spasms had become constant, his insides felt like they’d shatter under the strain and pressure. “Wh—What are you l—looking at?” he asked. 

Karl turned back around. “How much further?” he asked, doubling over very slightly, his hands squeezing onto his thighs. 

“I—I don’t know!” Kenneth cried. “Not much!” 

“Why do you want to know?” Bryce asked, trying to keep the taunting flair out of his voice, though he was positive Karl was now too desperate to notice it. 

“Because I… Have leg cramps,” Karl said. 

“Need more to drink?” Bryce offered, and now the taunting tone was definitely present and clear. 

“No!” Karl barked. 

Finally, they’d arrived at the farm and Kenneth could have cried with relief. There must have been SOMEWHERE here that he could let it flow. Following his thoughts, his bladder surged downwards, a jet of urine slicking down his leg as he clutched himself tighter and tighter. 

Karl jerked his head in Kenneth’s direction, as both his hands were still pressing against this thighs. “W—Wow, Bryce. Even your subordinates piss their pants!” he remarked. “Now I und—understand why you were placed in charge of them!” 

Bryce scowled, but instead of firing anything back, he just turned around. He couldn’t think of anything to say. And he was shocked that he was so upset by Karl making fun of Kenneth! Kenneth was an irritating, loud-mouthed, obnoxious little twerp… But, at the end of the day, he was BRYCE'S irritating, loud-mouthed, obnoxious little twerp. And, Bryce was the only one that got to decide if Kenneth suffered or not! 

Bryce did not WANT Kenneth to suffer right now, so he was not going to! 

Kenneth was bright red, “Sh—B—Be quiet!” he ordered. “It was a v—very long walk!” 

Dwight bounced a little on his toes, “Yeah, and we drank a lot of soda,” he added. “You drank more than any of us, Karl. You must have to go too, right?” 

Karl made no attempt to raise himself from his hunched position. “A bit,” he said. “Are there any facilities around here?” 

Bryce gestured to the small outhouse that was just outside the barn, “Right over there,” he said. 

Bryce watched as Karl stared at the tiny structure. Karl’s face paled so much he practically glowed. “I’ll wait…” he said. 

Kenneth had no time to revel in the fact it looked as though his plan was going to work. He was already well on his way towards the outhouse. His bladder was shivering in his center, the liquid contained within it rushing harshly against his sphincters. It wasn’t until he reached the door that he realized how disgusting an old outhouse that had been sitting on abandoned farmland for years would be. He opened the door, then quickly slammed it shut once again. “I think I’ll wait, too…” he mumbled . 

“Kenneth…” Dwight scolded. “You’re bursting." 

Kenneth looked at the outhouse once again. He bit his lip as he tangled his legs up as if he was trying to tie them into a bow. He shook his head. 

Dwight sighed, “Well, I’m still going…” he said. He opened the door himself… Then shut it. 

“See, I told you!” Kenneth said. “Revolting!” 

“We’ll… Find something,” Dwight promised. 

Kenneth’s hands were still wedged between his thighs, but the horror he’d felt when looking at the inside of that outhouse had somehow managed to tamp down his need a little bit. Like, his bladder was disgusted by the repulsive thing as well, and was determined not to necessitate Kenneth entering it… 

But, that only lasted about half a minute, then the spasms from within his core resumed their constant, vicious assault. “Nnnh, I… I order you to f—find me a… A suitable loca—“ He sputtered for a few seconds and doubled over as his bladder seemed to drop downward and slam against his weakening muscles. “Ohh, I hafta go NOW, Dwight!” 

Dwight winced at the sheer neediness in Kenneth’s cracking voice. “I… I know it’s gross, Kenneth. I know it’s really, really gross. But, you’re about to have an accident, and there’s nowhere else. You can’t NOT pee right now.” 

Kenneth ground his thighs together, his hands clutching between them as tiny droplets of urine oozed from his tip. “I--I should wash your mouth out w-with soap, you filthy, double-negative spewi—Ah!” He exclaimed, a hot jet of piss gliding down his leg with a very audible hiss. 

“Come on,” Dwight said. “I’ll take care of you…” He helped Kenneth hobble into the outhouse and shut the door behind them. “See? It’s not AS bad when the door’s closed, we can barely see it now!” 

It was such a tight fit that when Kenneth shuddered, Dwight felt him vibrating against his chest. “I still know,” Kenneth whined out, but Dwight heard his zipper being pulled down a second later. 

Dwight began their usual routine. He rubbed Kenneth’s shoulders, neck and back, trying to get deep into his tense muscles. “You’re okay,” Dwight encouraged. “Nice and safe, I’m right here… Just let it go…” He was positive the majority of the stress Kenneth was feeling now was due more to his disgusting surroundings than any belief that someone was going to barge in and see him peeing. “Pretend you’re in the nice, clean restroom at the inn and relax…” 

***

Back in the main clearing, Bryce was delighting in the show Karl was putting on. He was squirming, bouncing, dancing and clenching. Obviously, he was holding back an entire ocean, and every so often Bryce heard a tiny bit of it spurt into his bully’s clothes. “Sure you don’t wanna use the outhouse?” 

“Y—Your subordinates went in there together you know,” Karl managed to choke out between hisses of pee. “That is not ap—appropriate behavior.” 

Bryce almost launched into an explanation of Kenneth’s shy bladder and Dwight’s method of helping out, but stopped himself. Kenneth was Bryce’s punching bag, not Karl’s. 

Or. Well. Maybe not his punching bag. His… Something. 

Whatever Kenneth was though, he belonged to Bryce. 

“That’s none of your business,” Bryce replied instead. 

Karl resumed his shuffling and shimmying, crossing his legs and doubling over before squatting down so his ass brushed the dirt, his hands kneading into his crotch. 
Bryce snickered, watching in numb awe as his bully actually came apart right before his eyes. It was a beautiful thing to behold in a way. Bryce remembered all the times Karl had kept him from his relief until it was too late. All the times Karl had tackled him and punched him in the face. All the times Karl had broken his glasses. 

But, here Karl was, losing a fight against his own body. 

Bryce realized a moment later that Kenneth had seriously done this for him. Even with as much as they disliked each other, even with as much as they fought and messed with one another, Kenneth cared about him at least a little bit. And Bryce had to admit he cared about Kenneth just slightly as well. They certainly weren’t friends, but they weren’t really enemies, either. They were something in-between. 

Bryce needed something that would send Karl over the edge… He thought of one thing right away, and just hoped Kenneth would forgive him for it. “Those two are taking much too long,” Bryce stated. “I simply must go order them to hurry it up…” 

“Y—You couldn’t even o—order a bee to make honey,” Karl said. 

“Sure I could,” Bryce insisted. “Those two obey my every word! Come watch if you don’t believe me.” 

*** 

Dwight continued to rub Kenneth’s tense shoulders, feeling a few of the knots fade away, feeling some of the tightness slacken, feeling him lose his rigidity and straining posture… Then, he tried something else, he took one hand off of Kenneth’s shoulder, and brought it around to his front. He tapped Kenneth very, very gently in the middle, just above his bladder, and began drumming his fingers there. He wasn’t poking or prodding at him, just tapping. 

An uncontrollable spasm went through Kenneth’s bladder, like it was lurching out of his control. It twitched and convulsed, a tremor rushing through it. Then, something strange happened, he felt all of the muscles around his bladder going totally lax, it felt like his holding muscles dropped down towards his feet. It happened completely suddenly, totally out of nowhere, and the instant it happened— 

PSSSSSHHHHHHH! 

Kenneth was peeing like crazy. He had zero control over it. It was ridiculously forceful. Considering how nervous his surroundings had made him, Kenneth was shocked he was gushing so strongly right out of the gate like that. The astounding relief that tore through him ripped a moan from Kenneth’s throat that was loud and breathy enough to make Dwight blush. 

Tautness fled from Kenneth’s body as he continued to spray out his bladder’s contents, and Dwight moved to wrap his arms around his friend to keep him standing upright. Feeling Kenneth melt against him like that made Dwight’s heartbeat quicken. He almost wanted to cuddle his friend now, even while he was still peeing out what must have been buckets of soda and tea. 

Unbeknownst to them, Bryce had brought Karl to stand just outside the outhouse door. Bryce’s bladder was very sensitive to the sound of running water, and the noises that were resulting from Kenneth’s release were taking an affect… After Kenneth finished, Bryce definitely had to get in there… 

But, if it was making Bryce feel a need to go, it was clearly destroying Karl. And, when they heard Kenneth moan out a ragged sounding “Ahhhhhh…..” there was suddenly the sound of a second stream. But, this one was spraying into the dirt at Karl’s feet. 

Bryce watched in equal parts stunned awe and delightful satisfaction as Karl lost all control of his bladder. Karl was still clutching himself as wave after wave of liquid soaked into his uniform and flowed down to the ground. Bryce saw Karl begin to raise one hand up to the door of the outhouse, obviously intending to knock. 

Bryce grabbed Karl’s hand and pulled it back. “Shhh,” he said softly. “Kenneth needs quiet so he can finish. And, you’ve already wet your pants anyway. May as well finish the job.” 

Karl had a look of despair on his face that made Bryce’s heart thrum with happiness. Pee was still gushing and gushing, flowing in threads down Karl’s pant legs and pooling around his feet. “What the Hell are you talki—“ 

“SHHH!” Bryce hushed again. He realized that his shushing noise sounded an awful lot like running water too, so he did it again a little louder. Not that Karl needed any auditory encouragement anymore. Bryce had never seen anyone piss themselves with so much force before. Karl’s pants were shimmering and slick with hot urine, and more and more just kept on drizzling down them. A torrential hiss, like the sound of a broken faucet, could be heard emitting from Karl. It was obvious that his body had completely and totally failed, it had become impossible for him to hold back even the tiniest bit. 

The door to the outhouse swung open. Dwight and Kenneth stepped out, Kenneth with a small smile on his pink face. “Phew, I feel soooo much bett—“ He stopped cold when he saw Karl and Bryce were there. His heart was pounding. How much had they heard? He felt his face starting to catch fire. Had they heard him peeing? Had they heard the… the moaning? Kenneth honestly DID try not to make all those embarrassing noises, but he seriously couldn’t control i— He then noticed that Karl was sopping wet. “Aww, come on! I missed the funny part!” he whined. 

“Sorry,” Bryce said. “But, as you can see, it all worked.” 

“What worked?” Karl asked. “What did you bastards plan?” 

“Karl?” Kenneth said. “Come closer.” 

Karl didn’t really want to get close to anyone when he was covered in his own piss, so he stayed where he was. 

So, Kenneth walked up next to him. Their height difference was so vast that Kenneth had to crane his neck in order to look into Karl’s eyes. “You listen to me,” he said. Kenneth had never allowed his meager height to keep him from trying to maintain control of any situation. What he lacked in size, he made up for in noise. He could be loud. He could be louder than anyone he knew. He shouted at Karl; “You see that piece of shit asshole bastard over there?” He swooped an arm in Bryce’s direction. “You see him? Yeah. That is MY piece of shit asshole bastard, you got that? Not yours. I get to mess with him, not you. And, if I ever hear you’re screwing with him again, I’m going to do a lot worse than just make you piss yourself.” 

“What?” Karl asked. “All five feet of you?” 

Kenneth’s rage simmered and boiled, like a kettle had been left on for too long inside his head. “You may be bigger than me, but I guarantee you that I’m a whole Hell of a lot smarter than you are. I could trick you into blowing yourself up and you’d never see it coming. I tricked you into drinking several bottles laced with a diuretic today, didn’t I?” 

“That’s what y—“ 

“Yes,” Kenneth said. “That’s what happens to people who wrong me or try to take what’s mine. Bryce is MY jerk-ass douche-canoe, and no one is allowed to bother him except for me!” He stepped away from Karl. “Do not let this happen again.”

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This one gets pretty intense... 

*** 

Dwight had been shot. Twice. One in the leg and one in the chest. Had the one in his chest been a little further to one side, he could have been shot in the heart. He could have died. Kenneth was overcome by terror when he’d heard. He’d run straight for the medical building and into the room Dwight was staying in. He’d insisted he could save Dwight better than any of the medics could. He’d insisted he needed to be there every second while Dwight recovered. 

But, he hadn’t been allowed to stay. 

Dwight’s condition was stable. He was in a lot of pain, but would be perfectly fine. They’d patched him up and he was going to heal. He just needed to rest and take some medications, and he’d be good as new. 

Kenneth wished he could believe them, but unless he was actually there, holding Dwight’s hand, talking to him whenever he was awake, and seeing each and every thing that happened to him, he couldn’t be certain Dwight was okay. 

Elizabeth had tried to assure him. “Your friend will be alright, just let him rest up for a while. He’s okay. None of his wounds are life threatening. The one in his chest did not go in too deep. And it completely missed his heart and lungs, he’s only lost some blood and damaged a rib, and we can treat that very easily. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’ll just have some stitches and need some time to recover as he heals.” 

Kenneth had been unable to believe that. But, after he was told for the tenth time that he could not stay because someone else could end up needing the second bed in Dwight’s room, he finally left. Kenneth had gone to his post in a daze. He could barely remember where he was or who he was. He kept turning to his side to say something, thinking Dwight was right there next to him like he usually was. But, he wasn’t and Kenneth was speaking to empty air. 

Kenneth had spent so much time being part of an “us” that he had no idea how to just be a “me”. 

And, he was just so scared that Dwight wouldn’t get better. That he’d never see him again. That he’d never talk to him again. That they’d never hold one another again. Kenneth couldn’t picture life without Dwight; It just looked blank and unbearable. 

Bryce approached him after a while. Kenneth was certain he was about to get shouted at because he knew he wasn’t standing properly. “Paulson, I heard what has happened to Smith,” he said. “I want you to take today off. Tomorrow too, maybe. You are unfit to work right now, and it would be irresponsible of me to force you to do so. Go back to your barrack. Rest.” 

Kenneth had obeyed, walking dizzily to his room in the barrack. He laid on his bed facing the wall so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of how Dwight’s bed was currently empty. He tried to sleep, but without the sound of Dwight snoring next to him, it was impossible. He tried to read, but he ended up reading the same sentence over and over without processing it. He tried to listen to an audio drama on the radio, but none of the words could penetrate his hazy mind. 

So, he just kept laying there, wishing time would go faster, speed up to when Dwight was all better. To when Kenneth didn’t have to worry anymore. To when they could be side by side again. 

Time moved at a crawl though, and he just laid there and laid there and laid there. He drank some water to try and soothe his nerves, but it didn’t help. It just made him have to pee. He hadn’t gone since really early in the morning, so it made sense that his bladder would force him from his bed now. 

He entered the restroom and locked the door, even though he was the only person around the click of the lock helped him feel safe and secure. Not that it did much to stop the pounding of his heart in his ears today. He lifted the seat on the toilet and unzipped. Ordinarily, it took a few seconds for his stream to start, even when he was nice and alone like this. So, he didn’t immediately panic when he didn’t begin peeing straight away. 

After a full minute had passed and he still hadn’t let out a drop though, he started to get concerned. He tapped his fingers over his middle, the same way Dwight had done it that day in the outhouse. He felt his bladder convulsing just like it had then, but nothing came out. “Come on…” he mumbled. 

His bladder didn’t listen to his pleas, though. 

He mashed his hand against it as firmly as he could. 

Nothing. 

He held his breath and counted down from sixty. 

Nothing. 

He thought about waterfalls and oceans and rain. 

Nothing. 

He turned on the faucet. 

Nothing. 

Nothing worked. He couldn’t pee. Kenneth was confused. He was alone, wasn’t he? And the presence of other people was the only thing that made his bladder plug itself shut, wasn’t it? So then, why wasn’t he peeing? 

Maybe he just didn’t actually have to? The nervousness he felt about Dwight was just making him FEEL like he had to pee, but really his bladder was empty and that was why he couldn’t get anything out. Kenneth thought that sort of made sense. Even if it did REALLY feel like he had to go… He zipped himself back up and left the room, deciding he’d try it again later, when the need was more pronounced and thus definitely not just his imagination. 

A couple hours later, Kenneth was positive that he had to go. He was positive that he had to go pretty badly. He’d spent the last several minutes tensing his thighs as he stared out the window trying not to think about Dwight. He got out of bed and again headed for the toilet, feeling quite eager to let his bladder unload. 

Except, that didn’t happen. 

It was the same thing as earlier. He was locked in a private restroom, with zero people anywhere near him, while his bladder still refused to surrender to his demands. His body felt as hot and tense all over as it had ever since he learned of Dwight’s injuries, and his heart still hadn’t stopped thrashing out of control inside his chest. The sound of blood rushing in his ears had not abated once during the entire day, and Kenneth’s breathing remained short and tight. 

All those discomforts had faded into the background after he’d been enduring them for as long as he had, but now that he was aware of them once more he wondered if perhaps they were the culprit. Whenever Kenneth couldn’t pee because someone was near him or he didn’t feel he had decent privacy, what he was feeling was nervousness and anxiety. And, right now, Kenneth was feeling absolutely nothing but nervousness and anxiety. Perhaps, the reason for those emotions didn’t actually matter, whether they were caused by a lack of solitude or by a worry for his friend, the end result was the same; They made all of Kenneth’s muscles tense up, including the ones controlling his bladder. 

Now that Kenneth was pretty sure he knew what was going on, he finally panicked. He needed to calm himself down somehow. No way could he hold it until Dwight was totally healed up. That could take days, or weeks! Kenneth already needed to pee so much! He couldn’t endure this for weeks, he just couldn’t! The idea was horrifying; He imagined his bladder just getting fuller and fuller indefinitely, until he was so swollen that he couldn’t even fit through doorways. 

He knew that wasn’t actually possible. He’d rupture his bladder before that could happen. But, that idea frightened him too; He didn’t want to die so young, and especially not of shy bladder syndrome! What if they put that on his gravestone? ‘Here lies Kenneth Paulson, he had to pee so bad that he died.’ 

Kenneth tried to shake away the mental image of that, and redirect his attention once more on getting himself to pee. If he could do that, he wouldn’t need to worry about dying a humiliating and painful death at the hands of his stubborn bladder. His eyes were watering from both emotion and need. He felt so utterly childish. This was not what he should have been concerning himself with! He needed to be focusing on Dwight, not on his need to go! 

This was such a stupid problem to have. Any normal person would be able to fix it perfectly easily. But no, Kenneth couldn’t be normal. Kenneth had to make everything needlessly complicated. Even things that should be perfectly natural and simple, like peeing! 

He stood there for a very long time, to the point his legs started to get tired and his back started to hurt from how tense he’d gotten. Kenneth had never had good luck getting himself to relax and pee while sitting on the toilet, having his pants down so far, being in a vulnerable position where he couldn’t easily defend himself… It made him feel all the more exposed and uneasy. 

But, he’d gotten an idea. Maybe if he sat down and read a book to try and distract his mind, he’d just pee without having to think about it! He left to grab his book, then pulled down his clothes and took a seat. It felt kind of weird to him for a little bit, but he seemed to have an easier time concentrating on the book now than he did earlier. 

He tried to focus only on the words on the page, hoping that eventually his holding muscles would just give out and he’d start spraying against the inside of the bowl. But, as more and more time passed and Kenneth’s bladder only continued filling, he realized that this wasn’t going to work either. 

He pulled up his pants and left the room again. He felt extremely panicked then, and desperate. As he laid in bed, he thrashed back and forth, his legs rubbing together as he held onto himself. He was furious at his body; Here it was forcing him to writhe and squirm and clutch his cock against wave after wave of pulsating desperation, yet when he brought it to the toilet it refused to release! 

By the time Kenneth was going to bed, he was in tears. He hadn’t bothered taking off his uniform before going to sleep, it was too much effort and would require too much bending around and squashing of his bladder. He was sobbing so hard his body shook and jostled the walls of his aching bladder. It hurt so bad. He wanted to pee. He didn’t care how or where. He was no longer trying to hold it. He was forcing himself to splay his legs apart underneath his blanket, his hands tucked underneath his body so he wouldn’t grip his dick. 

Kenneth had decided hours ago that, if he peed himself, he’d be perfectly fine with it. He just wanted it out right then! He didn’t think he’d cried this hard in years, not since the day his Mother died. The stress, the worry, the physical agony… It was too much for him, his emotions were now as impossible to hold in as his bladder was to let out. He felt so totally pathetic, Dwight had been freaking shot, and here Kenneth was sobbing like a little baby over a need to ‘go potty’. 

Kenneth stood from his bed again and went to get the pills he sometimes took to help fall asleep. The one time he’d nearly wet his bed, it was because he’d accidentally taken two of those pills instead of one. He’d woken up just as he’d started dribbling into his pajamas. Tonight, Kenneth took two of them deliberately, praying that they’d knock him out so much that he’d wake up with a wet bed and an empty bladder. 

Even after the pills, it was hard to fall asleep. Kenneth liked to sleep on his front, but trying to do so put even more pressure on his bloated bladder. Trying to sleep in a different position was challenging, and trying to sleep through the agonizing pain in his core was nearly impossible. 

Somehow, Kenneth managed to enter a fitful rest for a few hours. When he woke up, his sheets were bunched in both his clenched fists, his legs were tangled up, his blanket was on the floor… And his bladder had transformed into a white, hot ball of pure, unadulterated torture. The pain he was in was indescribable, it was like something out of a horror novel, something an evil regime would do to torture prisoners in a deranged detention center, something that was forged deep in the bowels of Hell itself. 

Kenneth sank his teeth into his own arm as he fought not to scream in agony. He’d endured many painful things during his life. He’d been beaten. He’d been shot. He’d been strangled. But, absolutely nothing could compare to what he was feeling then. 

The only moisture present in his bed was his sweat. All of his urine was still trapped inside his bladder. Kenneth tried to release it right where he was. ‘Please, please,’ he silently begged, unsure if he was pleading with his bladder or with God. ‘I can’t take it anymore, I’ll do anything…’ God didn’t listen, and neither did his bladder, which remained an impenetrable vessel of piss retention, full beyond belief. 

Kenneth couldn’t stay in bed anymore. He got to his feet, the movement causing the pain to intensify. He could not believe it had actually gotten worse. How much worse could it possibly get? He considered leaving and going to the medical building, begging whoever was there for some kind of cure, anything to make this all stop. He stumbled around the room, every step like a white hot poker into his middle. He wasn’t even really walking, he was more like crawling, his whole body trying to give his bladder the space it needed, but there was no more space left anywhere. 

He was hoping with each ‘step’ that he’d start peeing uncontrollably into his uniform. He didn’t care that it would soak the floor. He didn’t care that he might get in trouble if he failed to clean up what was sure to be a massive puddle adequately enough. He didn’t care about anything. He just had to go. He just had to go so, so much. He could not believe he had to go so badly. He could not believe this level of pain was even possible. 

At some point he collapsed into a ball in the corner of the room. He curled around himself, shaking and twitching and whimpering in a way that no longer even sounded human. He was steadily leaking tears in the way he wished he could have steadily leaked pee. ‘It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop. Please. Just make it end.’ 

The tears kept coming. He wished Dwight was there. Dwight would make it all okay. But, Dwight wasn’t there, and he couldn’t be there, and Kenneth was still utterly convinced that there was a chance that he wouldn’t ever be there again. Hell, Kenneth decided he didn’t even deserve Dwight, because Kenneth was worthless. He did not deserve to be helped. He did not deserve to be loved. He’d done all of this to himself because he was a broken waste of flesh that couldn’t even fucking pee. He deserved to hurt. He was a pitiful excuse for a person. He started to mutter to himself, calling himself every cruel, vicious, hurtful thing he could think of. 

Kenneth hated his shy bladder, and the only thing he hated more than it was himself. 

This went on for well over an hour, at least. The sun slowly began to peak in through the window as Kenneth continued berating himself and shuddering on the floor. 

Kenneth wasn’t sure if it had just begun, or if it had been going on for a few seconds without his noticing, but there was warmth between his thighs. There was dampness. He felt slow, dismal trickling dripping through his tip. 

He was going. 

He went completely still, trying very hard not to tense any muscle in his body, no matter how far away from his bladder it may have been. He didn’t want his jaw to tighten. He didn’t want his eyelids to strain together. He didn’t want his arms or shoulders to go rigid. He didn’t want to put any effort into standing from his coiled position to try to get to the toilet.

He was going. 

His stream was incredibly light, barely worthy of being called a stream at all, more like a corroded garden hose trying to pump water through clogged pipes. If Kenneth moved at all, if he allowed any stiffness to build up in his body anywhere and made an attempt to get himself to an appropriate place for this to be happening, he was afraid he would stop peeing altogether again. 

He needed this little, minuscule flow to keep going. He needed to keep peeing his pants. The realization that he wanted to continue on having an accident, that he’d reached such a wretched, pathetic state where wetting himself was a blessing, made him want to cry even more. He made no effort to hold back the tears that brimmed in his eyes, he let them trickle down his face as twenty three and a half hours worth of urine slowly and choppily trickled out of his horrendously stopped up bladder. 

As his pee slowly left his body, waves and waves of emotions dove into it. This both did and did not feel like a relief. In his mind, he did feel relieved; It was finally, at long last, coming out. And, other than the heinous fear that he’d lock right back up before he managed to finish, he felt hopeful that the ordeal was at last at a close. But, physically, he didn’t feel much relief. He needed to be gushing like a broken faucet, his bladder’s contents should have been forcefully spraying through his urethra like trying to funnel an entire ocean through a thin coffee straw. He should have been shuddering and shivering as wave after wave poured ferociously out of him. 

But, that wasn’t happening. He was dribbling slow, unsteady drops, producing a light drizzle and not a rainstorm. He didn’t dare try to push down on his muscles to get it to speed up. What if that had the opposite effect and made it stop again? His inability to fully unclench and let it all burst forth meant that even now, as he was at last peeing, his bladder and the surrounding muscles still ached. 

Then, there was the knowledge that, even with as relieved as he was to finally pee, this was an accident. He was wetting himself. He was a twenty four year old soldier, and he was coiled up in a fetal position on the floor releasing his bladder into his clothes while tears streamed down his face. And, worst of all, he was grateful to be doing it. He was thankful that he was pissing his uniform. Pissing his uniform felt like being let out of prison, and he was just so indebted to God or whoever it was that had finally hit the switch inside his body and allowed for this to happen. 

Emptiness did not come quickly to Kenneth. At no point did he actually burst; At no point did he unleash the gushing torrent that he’d needed to let out. He continued to ploddingly drip away, his stream moving at the pace of a snail coated in molasses on a hot day. It took almost five minutes before all the urine was finally out of him. He was laying in a huge, cold puddle, sodden and soaked through. He didn’t get up for another handful of minutes, wanting to make certain his bladder really had dried out all the way. 

His middle still felt tender and sore. And, when he stood up, pain shot through his abdomen again. But, not the same kind of pain as from before. It wasn’t the urgent pulsing of a bladder that was stretched well beyond its natural limit, it was a tight, aching throb, like he’d just had a cannonball launched against him. 

As he took in the pain, and looked down at his drenched clothes and the mess he’d made on the floor, his tears picked up. Against his will, he imagined what Father would have said if he’d been alive to witness all of that. “Pathetic, brat. Absolutely pathetic. I thought that by your age you would have figured out how to take a piss like a human. Guess not. Look what you did to yourself. And for what reason? All because of your ‘friend’? But, he’s not really your ‘friend’ is he? Tell me the truth, tell me all about how I raised a dysfunctional god damned sodomite that’s not even fucking housebroken.” 

He cried harder, backing against the wall and sliding down it. He could hear Father saying those things so clearly. He sobbed so much his ribs hurt and his sore abdomen ached with even stronger pangs. He wasn’t sure how long he cried for, but it was long enough that his eyes started to burn and his cheeks hurt from how often he’d ended up scrubbing his tears away. 

The pain in his center was still there when his crying finally eased a little. He knew something was wrong. He knew that it wasn’t supposed to feel that way. The odds that he’d achieved another infection were high. 

He quickly wiped off the floor as best as he could, then changed out of his wet uniform and put on a clean one. On shaky legs, the soreness in his middle building with each step, he made his way to the medical building. 

Elizabeth was already there at the door. “Paulson, Smith is doing much better today,” she said immediately. “He is alert and able to take brief walks across the room. You may visit him again today if you wish.” 

“I—I do,” Kenneth said. God, did he ever… If Dwight was able to hold him right now, Kenneth was sure he would feel ten thousand times better. “But… Something… I… I need… I just… Had this thing happen. I couldn’t ‘go’ for almost an entire day.” 

“Go?” Elizabeth repeated. “Go where?” 

“To… To, um, relieve myself,” Kenneth said. “I couldn’t urinate. For almost twenty four hours. And, I still feel really sore. I think I’ve got an infectio—“

“What?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Why didn’t you— What happened?” 

“I… I have this thing, I can’t… Urinate when I’m stressed out. And, I’ve been so worried about—“ 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“My whole life,” Kenneth said. “I can’t go if I’m nervous, or if there’s people around me, or—“ 

“But, you stand outside to guard all day. You go on marches. You—“ 

“I have to hold it a lot,” Kenneth said. 

“How often do you go normally?” 

“Usually twice a day, sometimes three times if I get the chance.” 

“Paulson, that isn’t good. You should be voiding your bladder at least six times per day.” 

Kenneth couldn’t remember ever having that many opportunities to go before in a single day. It sounded unfathomable to him to pee that often. How did anyone have the time for that? “That’s too much,” he said.

“No, it’s not,” Elizabeth said. “You’re… You’re saying that you are physically unable to go, right? You are not making yourself hold it?” 

“No, if I COULD go, I would,” Kenneth said. “I just can’t.” 

“That isn’t good,” Elizabeth repeated. “When you last voided your bladder after not going for so long, did it hurt?” 

“It stung a little,” Kenneth said. “And…I couldn’t… My stream was kind of weak. It took a long time. And I’m sore now.” 

“You may have an infection,” Elizabeth said. “Paulson, please don’t do that to yourself again.” 

“I couldn’t help it,” Kenneth said, trying not to get frustrated. “I already told you!” 

“Come,” Elizabeth instructed. Kenneth followed her into the medical building. She led him to the room Dwight was resting in. Kenneth finally felt the tension draining from his body and released an incredibly long overdue sigh of relief. Dwight looked okay. The color had returned to his face and he was sitting up. 

Kenneth rushed over to him, just needing to be next to him. 

Elizabeth opened the cabinet and began to look through it. She retrieved a hot water bottle and a few pills. She had intended to give these things to Kenneth and instruct him to rest in his barrack for the next several days while drinking plenty of water and emptying his bladder as soon as the need arose to help heal the infection he doubtlessly had. But, from her limited understanding of what had just happened to him, apparently being separated from Dwight while the latter recovered had played a role in Kenneth’s inability to void himself. Keeping the two apart seemed like it would worsen Kenneth’s condition. Maybe just letting the two of them be near each other was the ‘medicine’ they both needed… 

There was a second bed in this room. And, now Kenneth actually had something that required treatment. “Paulson, lay there,” she instructed. She went over to the sink to fill the water bottle before giving it to him. “Put this where you are sore, take the medications, drink lots of water,” she rattled off. “And, when you need to relieve yourself, do it as soon as you can…” She opened the cabinet again and made sure there was a decent supply of urinal bottles inside it. “Bottles are here. Just stay here and rest. With Smith.” 

After Elizabeth left, Kenneth laid down in the bed, and placed the hot water bottle over his middle. Some of the soreness did ebb away then. He felt better, especially since Dwight was right across from him where he belonged again. 

“What was that about?” Dwight asked. 

Kenneth shamefully explained how the last twenty four hours had gone, how he’d been so completely unable to pee and had ultimately wet his pants when his body finally gave out. 

Dwight didn’t make fun of him, he didn’t laugh at him or tease him. “You were that worried about me?” 

“Of course I was,” Kenneth said. “You’re my…” he paused. “You’re…” He wasn’t even sure what Dwight was to him. He hadn’t been for a long time. “You’re my everything,” he finished at last. 

Dwight wanted to stand up and go to Kenneth’s bed to hold him. But, knew he still couldn’t do much walking. Kenneth could come to him though. “Kenneth, can I hug you?” 

Kenneth stood and walked to Dwight’s bed, gently sitting down on it so as not to agitate Dwight’s hurt legs. Dwight sat up as much as he could, and drew Kenneth to him. Kenneth sighed again at the calming sound of Dwight’s heartbeat against his ear. He wanted to stay there in his arms forever. 

But, he couldn’t.

Kenneth definitely had another infection, because he suddenly felt a sharp, intense urge to pee hit him with no warning at all. “Dwight, I need to relieve myself…” he said. There was apprehension in his voice. What if it happened again? What if that horrific, intense, nonstop torture was going to be forever now and he’d only ever be able to pee when his body just broke and gave up? 

“Go get the bottle,” Dwight said. “Then come back to me. You can do it here.” 

Kenneth did as Dwight said, and a few minutes later he was sat on Dwight’s bed, aiming into the bottle and Dwight was rubbing his back. Right away, a stream pulsed out. An actual stream, too. Nice and solid and heavy. It stung a lot coming out, but that did little to erase the relief Kenneth felt. “Phew, it’s working…” he murmured. 

Dwight increased the speed of his strokes against Kenneth’s back. “There you go,” he said. “All better. I’m here now.”

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Kenneth eventually recovered from his infection. Elizabeth took good care of him, but she couldn’t quite make sense of it. She’d at first been concerned that Kenneth had some sort of blockage, she’d worried he had kidney stones, or a urethral stricture. She was certain that Kenneth’s problem must have had a physical cause that he’d been unaware of. But, that was not the case. Kenneth’s problem was entirely psychological, and that was something Elizabeth had never seen before. She’d never had a patient that was unable to urinate without having something physically wrong with them, she hadn’t even known someone’s bladder could get plugged up without such a problem. 

But, Kenneth’s body was working exactly as it was supposed to, it was just the brain controlling it that had an issue. That was a bit outside of anything Elizabeth knew how to heal. She could bandage and sew up wounds. She could give pain killers. She couldn’t chip away at deep-seated psychological scars. 

And, while she didn’t really think it was her place, she was also concerned about the apparent dependence he and Dwight had upon each other. Dwight would insist his wounds hurt too bad to try walking one minute, then Kenneth would ask him to come to him and suddenly Dwight would be able to move with ease. Kenneth clearly needed Dwight near him even to perform a basic, biological function like urination. Elizabeth didn’t know if she should say anything about it, the way they cared for one another was honestly sweet and even a little heartwarming, but at the same time they didn’t seem to know how to function when separated. She wasn’t so sure if that was healthy. 

Recovery was hard for Kenneth. He didn’t like having to talk with Elizabeth about how he was feeling each day. He didn’t like having to describe the level of pain he felt each time he urinated. He didn’t like having to inform her of how many times he’d urinate in a given day, or how much trouble he’d had getting it to come out. He didn’t like having to drink extra water, making his irritated bladder demand to be emptied even more often, and prompting more discussions about it. He didn’t like any of it. 

Kenneth hated the way the infection made him feel. Loathe as he was to admit it, his hated shy bladder had an incredible silver lining; Since he often held it to the point of extreme urgency, whenever he managed to get relief, to empty himself after hours of squirming and discomfort, it would feel nothing short of Heavenly. Agony transforming into spine-tingling pleasure in one split second. 

But, with the infection, that wasn’t the case. Instead of a build up of need over the course of several hours, he would be crossing his legs and scrambling for a bottle with very little warning over and over, each time growing more certain that he was going to have an accident. And, when it came out, he did not feel the euphoric, steady bliss of his liquids draining away, pressure receding and leaving him feeling nothing but light emptiness. He felt something completely different; He felt like he was peeing out bee-stingers and gun powder. He felt like tiny fires were being set all along the insides of his most sensitive parts. His urethra would ignite and burn with fury, sometimes so intensely he would start to tear up a little. 

Dwight actually felt bad each time he helped coax Kenneth’s bladder into loosening and surrendering its contents, because it was obvious that Kenneth felt no relief from the process, only pain. Dwight had to do it, though. If Kenneth held his bladder for any real length of time, he would only get worse. A few times, Dwight noticed Kenneth was trying to do exactly that, to restrain his pee within his body until the need became too intense to withstand all so he could avoid the hot, stinging fire he felt each time it glided through his pipes. Dwight had to call him out on it; “Kenneth, I know it hurts when you relieve yourself, but you won’t get better by holding it.” 

Kenneth never denied that he had to go, at least. But, he did try to insist it was okay to keep waiting. “Dwight, it feels like I’m pissing acid!” he would say. 

Dwight would wince at the mental image, apologize, and tell Kenneth that he would KEEP on feeling that way if he didn’t do what he had to do to get better. Eventually, Kenneth would relent, feeling too feverish and tired to put up much of a fight— His usually short-tempered and argumentative friend failing to raise his voice or prolong the discussion would actually make Dwight’s worry build, even as glad he was that Kenneth wasn’t making himself hold it any longer. 

Each time Dwight saw Kenneth’s eyes growing shiny with tears as he whimpered and let out short gushing bursts into a urinal bottle, Dwight’s heart would ache for him. Dwight was so used to having Kenneth turn into putty in his arms when they did this, to having Kenneth moan and shudder and pant with ecstasy at the sheer relief of it all. To see Kenneth fight back tears and let out tiny, mewling whines from the back of his throat instead… Dwight could barely stand it. 

Kenneth did get better eventually though, and so did Dwight. Both of their conditions improved dramatically once they were together again, and eventually they were able to resume their work. Kenneth was worried about seeing Bryce again, certain the other had found out what had happened to him somehow and was going to taunt him for it. But, he didn’t. He seemed convinced that Kenneth had actually come down with Pneumonia, and asked several times if Kenneth was breathing alright again. So, Kenneth figured he didn’t actually know what happened after all. That was a relief. 

Bryce kept up his new habit of checking in with Kenneth and telling him to go back to his barrack and pee when he was getting squirmy. It continued to make Kenneth a little uncomfortable— Being doted on by Bryce, even if only for a few seconds at a time, felt just plain wrong to Kenneth. Kenneth tried to take breaks when they were offered, however. He was scared that the infection would return to him again and he would once more feel that awful stinging burn each time he emptied his bladder. 

Sometimes, when Kenneth took a break and tried to pee before it became a major emergency, he still struggled to get his flow started. Even sheltered away in the nice, private restroom where he’d relieved himself easily so many times before, there was something in him that continued to shout that he was not ALLOWED to pee until he really, really had to go, and his faucet would remain closed. There were, however, occasions now where Kenneth would lock himself away into his blessed privacy, unzip, and release a bladder that was only just starting to feel uncomfortable. Those times, it was hard not to feel the shame that had been tattooed into his brain; The shame that told him that if his stream only lasted forty five seconds, that meant he’d gone too soon and was wasting time. 

When Dwight saw him returning from one such pee, he asked his friend why he looked so nervous, and Kenneth was forced to try to explain himself. Dwight had to hide his dismay that his friend considered peeing for ‘only forty five seconds’ to be a sign that he should have held it even longer… 

There came a day shortly after Dwight and Kenneth recovered that things went wrong for Kenneth once more. They shouldn’t have, really. He’d taken every precaution. He’d peed right before he left his barrack, he’d limited his fluid intake in anticipation of the time he’d be spending away from it. He’d done everything he was supposed to. 

But, nevertheless, as the other guards ate their meals, Kenneth just sat in his chair at the table, wriggling this way and that with an urgent need to relieve himself. They did this sometimes, a large group of the guards would go out to a restaurant and have a nice feast together. Dwight loved these nights, but Kenneth did not. Usually, when enough of the guards got together outside of work like this, it meant a lot of alcohol. The scent would flood Kenneth’s senses and make all the hairs on his neck stand up on end. 

He knew, of course, that his Father was not going to spontaneously come back to life and appear out of nowhere to attack him. He knew the smell of booze was not caused by his Father and that he was not in danger, but that didn’t make the alarm bells stop ringing in his head anyway. 

Tonight, however, the alarm bells weren’t only coming from his head. They were coming from his bladder too, informing him that it was beginning to get critically full. He’d never been to this restaurant before, he didn’t know what the restroom was like. Maybe it would actually be usable. He allowed himself this hope as he stood gingerly from his seat. The surge of liquid that immediately slammed into his sphincters told him that he’d better pray he could piss here, because there was no way he’d make it all the way back to his barrack uninjured. 

He located the room he needed to visit pretty quickly. His hopes began to plummet when he realized that it was not single-occupancy. Kenneth had had a little luck using single-use toilets in public in the past. It wasn’t easy, but if he needed to go badly enough and no one knocked on the door, eventually he’d manage to let go of his burden. 

His trips into multi-stall restrooms had been far less fruitful. 

Still, the cramping in his center made him venture into the room anyway. If there was a chance, however minuscule, that he’d be able to empty himself here, he was going to take it. The restroom was spacious, at least. The ceiling was high, and there was a huge row of stalls, more than he’d ever seen before. On the opposite side were the urinals. The sinks were located in their own, adjoining room. 

It was like Kenneth had designed the room himself. 

Normally, men’s restrooms had very few stalls and the urinals were located in a way that made the user’s reflection visible to anyone washing their hands. But, here the sinks were in a separate area, and the stalls were plentiful. There weren’t even any gaps in the stall doors, and they reached very low to the ground. 

Kenneth felt a surge of confidence as he hurried into a stall. He could do it here. He really could. He could pee. He could pee right here, right now, get rid of this awful pressure inside him. He could pee in a public place, he could do it. He really could. He kept up this litany of positivity as he unbuttoned and took down his zipper, pulling out his aching penis and aiming.

Nothing happened. 

Kenneth did not panic. He’d learned long ago not to panic when his stream didn’t show itself immediately. It was okay if it took a few seconds. It was normal. It didn’t mean he was frozen up. He just had to be patient. It… Felt like the pee was up to his ribcage, but that didn’t mean he had to freak out just because it wasn’t coming out yet. He could do this. He could. 

Nothing happened. 

Kenneth’s jaw spasmed with frustration. He was alone in this enormous room, concealed so thoroughly by the door of the stall. He mashed the flat of his palm into his abdomen, the pain emanating in harsh ripples beneath it was excruciating, but still no pee. Standing there, twitching needfully with his dick in his hand, he saw himself as the scared child with his unsteady, drunken Father screaming at him to pee on command. He saw himself as the pathetic man of a few weeks ago, curled in a ball and crying as pee burned through his plugged up urethra to soak his pants. He thought of bolting from the stall, retrieving Dwight from the table and ordering him to assist, but just the fact that Kenneth needed that— That he needed Dwight there just so he could pee, caused explosions of shame to rip through his mind. 

“Come on…” Kenneth mumbled to himself. “Come on, please… I have to…” 

Then, he heard someone enter the restroom. He tried to ignore the person and focus only on the task at hand. Again, Kenneth wondered how in the world he could NEED to do something SO badly, and then find himself unable to do it the instant he was able. 

He heard the pitter-patter of small shoes on the ground, followed by louder steps. “Come on, Heather, time to pee.” 

“But, I don’t have to, Daddy.” 

“You need to try. It’s a long walk back home, okay?” Kenneth heard the stall next to his open and shut. “Come on, Heather. Let me help you.” Kenneth heard some clothing rustling. “Now hurry up and pee, we don’t have all day.” 

‘Hurry up and pee.’ 

Kenneth’s urethra welded itself shut.

“But, Daddy, I can’t go,” the little girl’s light voice stated. 

“You have to do it now,” the man replied. He wasn’t yelling at Heather. He wasn’t berating her. He wasn’t shouting at her and demanding to know what was wrong with her and why she couldn’t go. Still, everything Kenneth heard filled him with an inescapable anxiety. He tried to block out the conversation, tried to focus on what he came here to do. 

‘Think of oceans, Kenneth,’ he told himself. ‘Nice, sparkling oceans. You’re finally on the beach and it’s so quiet. All you can hear are the waves lapping at the shore. No one is around for miles, you can just pee in the sand, listening to the splashing water…’ 

“You need to go now,” the man in the next stall was beginning to grow impatient. 

“I don’t have to!” 

Anger rose in Kenneth’s chest. He’d felt this so many times before; the fury igniting through his body, flaming up in his esophagus until it bubbled out in a shout, followed by a kick to whatever was closest to him. He wasn’t sure what would explode first, his rage or his bladder. 

‘Calm… Calm…’ Kenneth told himself. ‘Don’t let it happen here… Think of the ocean. The waves. Nice, soothing water, flowing.’ 

“Just do it!” the man snapped out. 

Kenneth’s eyes were scrunched shut, he put the hand he wasn’t using to aim against the wall of the stall. He began slapping it, softly at first and then harder and louder. His teeth were grinding. A shout was pounding against the backs of them. He could barely hold in his anger, if only he could have said the same thing for his pee, which still remained locked in place behind scared and stubborn little muscles. The man kept arguing with his daughter as Kenneth bobbed in place and held his breath until he thought he may pass out. 

“Do it. You have to.” 

‘SHUT UP BEFORE I TEAR OFF YOUR ARMS AND BEAT YOU WITH THEM!’ Kenneth’s jaw was spasming now, he swore he felt veins pulsing in his neck as every muscle in his body grew heavy with tension. 

Then, he heard a stream trickling into water. But, it wasn’t his. 

“Good, Heather,” her Dad said. 

The sound continued for a few seconds, just long enough to taunt Kenneth’s bladder and make it spasm and shriek with the desire to let go as well. Kenneth punched his fist against the wall. ‘If you want to piss so freaking bad, why the Hell won’t you let me!?’ he felt ridiculous, having a mental argument with his own bladder. 

He heard the man and his daughter begin to leave a few moments later. Once they were gone, Kenneth tried again to get his stream to come. But, it didn’t. He was too warm, too tense, too angry. He felt like he’d burst, and not just from his full bladder. 

He took pinched, wilted steps back to the table that smelled like beer and other forms of alcohol. He sat down in his chair and fought not to double over at the way his belt squeezed into his bladder. His teeth were still clenched, if he let his jaw relaxed the scream he’d been holding back would erupt from his lips and everyone would stare at him and wonder what in the world had him so pissed. 

Pissed. 

Right. 

That’s what he was. He was pissed. He was pissed from head to toe. He was made of piss, and none of it could come out, be it through his mouth or through his urethra. It all had to stay where it was, locked up in his body, even as it drove him crazier and crazier. 

Buildings should have private scream-rooms people could go into when it felt like their heads were going to blow up. Kenneth would definitely get more use out of that than he’d ever managed to get out of a public toilet. 

He was angry at that stupid guy and his stupid kid and their stupid voices and their stupid ability to pee in public… Kenneth looked around the restaurant. He was sure everyone here could pee in that restroom. They could all pee whenever and wherever they had to. And they didn’t even know how good they had it. He decided he hated them. How dare they all get to be relaxed and comfortable and not have to worry about staying out for too long every single time they go anywhere? How dare they get to drink however much they need to to quench their thirst? How dare they not have to spend days feeling like shit and having pain fire through their pipes every time they urinated because their bodies betrayed them so totally? How dare they?

Dwight had been engrossed in his meal for so long he didn’t notice Kenneth’s obvious discomfort until he felt his friend accidentally kick his shin beneath the table. “Kenneth, watch ou—“ He stopped, registering the pained distress on Kenneth’s face. His eyes drifted downwards to Kenneth’s tense thighs and the hands pressing between them. “Come on, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I’ll get you sorted out.” 

Kenneth whimpered. He shouldn’t have NEEDED Dwight to sort him out. He should have been able to do it himself just fine! Kenneth didn’t know why he suddenly felt so much more ashamed of himself for needing this. He knew Dwight held the keys to relief, and he knew he needed relief very, very much. He stood when Dwight prompted him to and followed his friend back towards the restrooms. 

When Dwight saw the restrooms here were multi-stall, he understood why Kenneth was having trouble, but also didn’t think he could help him out here. If someone noticed they were sharing a stall, then that person would get the wrong idea. 

Kenneth stood close beside Dwight as his friend thought of what to do. Kenneth’s knees were knocking against one another, his feet stomping into the floor as he trembled with need. His eyes turned watery as another huge wave of desperation hit him. He knew that he was reaching the threshold. Something had to give. Either he’d pee, wet his pants, or suffer another injury to his body; A body that he had no way of controlling and which seemed to be determined to hurt itself despite his pleading with it to stop. 

Kenneth’s bladder was full. Beyond capacity. He could not hold it much longer and he had to pee. 

“Let’s go outside,” Dwight decided. “I’ve got you.” 

Kenneth grimaced as he took slow, contorted steps after his friend. These situations, these bouts of inescapable desperation, were the only times when Dwight took charge of Kenneth. It was supposed to be the other way around. Kenneth was the leader, Kenneth was the one who made all the plans and directed Dwight on how to carry them out. But, when Kenneth had to pee really badly, Dwight had to be the one to figure everything out. 

Dwight paused at the table to whisper something into Bryce’s ear. Kenneth tried to hear it, but wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know what was being said about him. His bladder had become such a problem that it was a regular topic of conversation amongst those he was even a little close to. He knew Dwight was telling Bryce that he needed to go. He knew Dwight was telling Bryce that he couldn’t go and needed help. 

Kenneth’s bladder and sphincters were aching with the tremendous need for relief. His holding muscles throbbed violently, trying their hardest to push out all the liquid he was containing. But, he held it back with all his strength, leaning forward, rocking back, tapping his feet, bouncing. None of it helped take the edge off his need. And, he felt ridiculous doing any of it to start with. He knew he couldn’t void in a crowded dining room full of people, so he knew he would not have an accident. All his pee-dancing did was inform everyone around him that he was full to bursting. All his pee-dancing did was add to his growing sense of shame. 

After a moment, Dwight was leading Kenneth out of the building, across the street and into a shop. Kenneth was miserable the whole walk there. He was bursting beyond belief, all he wanted was to pee, he’d do anything for it. Anything to just be able to take a long, forceful piss into a toilet. Once they were in the shop, Dwight was swiftly escorting Kenneth to the small restroom in the back. He locked the door behind the both of them. “Okay, nice and quiet here,” he said. “You can do it.” 

Kenneth said nothing, just quickly got himself in front of the toilet and unzipped. Dwight was a little concerned by Kenneth’s silence. Kenneth was rarely ever quiet; Even when he was asleep, he was making noise, either snoring loudly or muttering to himself. Normally, when they did this, Kenneth was ‘ordering’ him to help. ‘Demanding’ assistance in an effort to reclaim some of the sense of control he lost every time his body disobeyed him. 

But now, he was silent. 

Dwight wondered for a second if Kenneth’s sullenness was because he’d already peed; That he’d lost control and had an accident. But, Dwight knew that couldn’t have been it. He would have definitely noticed if Kenneth was peeing, it would have been loud and violently forceful. And, even if Kenneth wasn’t shouting orders at Dwight to help him piss, he was bouncing up and down with obvious need. Clearly, he still really had to go… 

Dwight decided not to question it until after Kenneth was emptied. He put his hands on Kenneth’s shoulders and began to rub. “You’re okay,” he said. “I’m here. Just relax…” He carried on with this for several minutes, much longer than it usually took, and that made Dwight’s concern grow. 

Finally, there was a spurt of liquid hitting the toilet. Then another. And another. And then a stream. Kenneth finally confirmed that his vocal cords still functioned when a moan of relief fell from his lips. Shivers assailed his body then, and Dwight tightened his grip on his shoulders to help him stay standing upright. Dwight exhaled a relieved breath of his own. 

As usual, a lot of liquid came out of Kenneth. Dwight didn’t think he’d ever stop feeling shocked and worried by the amount of piss that poured out of his friend’s body, no matter how many times he bore witness to Kenneth voiding himself of his full capacity. Dwight kept stroking Kenneth’s back, feeling him shuddering with relief beneath his fingers. Kenneth was breathing heavily as his stream finally wound down and ceased flowing. He sighed again as he zipped up. Then, just stood there. 

“All done?” Dwight asked. “All better now?” 

Kenneth didn’t answer. 

“Are you okay?” Dwight asked, now worried that Kenneth wasn’t over his infection after all. The way Kenneth was moaning, Dwight didn’t think it had burned coming out, but… “Did it hurt?” 

Kenneth shook his head. 

“What’s the—“ 

“Dwight, what the Hell is wrong with me?” Kenneth asked. 

“Nothing,” Dwight said quickly. 

“I shouldn’t need… Why can’t I be normal?!” Kenneth said, finally letting the rage he’d been feeling for so long burst forth. “I shouldn’t need HELP pissing! It’s freaking PISSING! A baby can do it no problem!” 

“Kenneth,” Dwight said, trying to keep his tone even and neutral. He’d learned that using a soothing, soft tone of voice when Kenneth worked himself up into one of his fits only served to stoke his anger. “You can’t help this. You know that.” 

“It’s not fair!” Kenneth snapped out. “I hate having to live with this! Every day, I have to worry about it! I’m sick of it! Nobody else does!” He spun around and kicked the wall. 

Dwight stepped back. “Other people get pee-shy,” he said. 

“Not like I do!” Kenneth insisted. “Other people… freeze up sometimes. I’m so screwed up that I break my body and end up needing medical attention! It’s not the same thing!” 

“This isn’t your fault,” Dwight said. “You did nothing to cause this. It’s just that stuff your Dad did that’s—“ 

“Why did he hate me so much, Dwight?” Kenneth asked, softer now. His eyes were welling up. “What did I ever do to him?” 

Dwight didn’t know how to answer. “You didn’t do anything… You didn’t deserve—“ 

“I must have,” Kenneth said, and then he broke down. He cried to Dwight about Heather, and her Dad, and how even when he started to lose his patience, he still hadn’t yelled at her. He hadn’t called her names, he hadn’t demanded to know what was wrong with her, he hadn’t hit her. He’d just used a stern tone of voice, nothing more. 

Dwight held Kenneth and rubbed his back as he cried. It wasn’t fair, how his Father could still have this hold over his mind and body even so long after his death. Kenneth’s Father was gone now, but in a way he was still in control, he still had the power to cork up Kenneth’s bladder, he still had the power to make Kenneth cry, he still had the power to make Kenneth hate himself. 

Dwight didn’t know how to make any of that better, so he just kept holding his friend, just kept stroking him gently, just kept telling him that it was okay and that he hadn’t deserved the mistreatment he’d gone through. Once Kenneth was all cried out, Dwight helped him wash his face off a little at the sink. “It’s okay that you need help,” Dwight said once more. “And it’s not your fault that you need it. Maybe one day you won’t need me to help you pee, but until that happens I’ll always be here for you, okay?” 

Kenneth felt a little bit better, he looked at himself in the mirror, trying to make out if it was obvious he’d been crying. His nose was a little red still, but that was it. “Do not tell anyone,” he said to Dwight. “That I…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word ‘cried’, it made him feel so intolerably weak. 

“I won’t,” Dwight promised.

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Dwight was not supposed to disrespect The Leader’s private villa in any way. He was meant to present himself with the most respectable appearance he could manage. He was absolutely not allowed to damage anything, even by accident. He had to be very, very careful. No spilling things, no crashing into things, no being clumsy, or loud, or talking out of turn. 

He was certainly not supposed to pee anywhere other than into a toilet at The Leader’s private villa. He’d broken the rule twice before, once by peeing his pants and soaking the rug below his feet the first time he met The Leader, and again when he’d been unable to wait for his turn in the restroom and had needed to flood a vase instead. He’d only narrowly managed to clean the vase out before anyone important saw what he’d done to it. 

Of course, it wasn’t as though Dwight had WANTED to do either of those things, it was just that he could only hold so much for so long, and it had needed to come out! On this visit, he’d thought he wouldn’t have such problems again. He’d decided he’d go use the restroom as soon as he had to, in order to avoid any emergencies that would necessitate him urinating somewhere inappropriate. But, Dwight could make as many plans as he wanted, and that wouldn’t have made a difference. 

The guest restroom was experiencing plumbing issues and was off limits until it could be repaired. Dwight, Kenneth and Bryce were all informed it should only take a couple hours and then they’d be free to use it, but the thing was Dwight didn’t really HAVE a couple hours left to spare. The train they’d ridden in on had lacked toilet facilities, the restroom at the station had had a line that stretched out the door, and they were already running late so Dwight couldn’t get in line or stop off anywhere along the way. 

By the time he’d arrived at the villa, Dwight had hardly even been able to breathe past the pulsating misery inside his core. He’d been BEYOND ready to dash to that restroom and unload all the fluid he’d been forced to cart around for so long. Now that he knew he couldn’t actually do that, and wouldn’t be able to actually do that for HOURS, he felt even closer to his bursting point. 

Dwight was certain his companions must have been feeling a bit of the urge to go as well, but neither of them were showing much need so they must not have been in as dire of a state as he was. Dwight was definitely showing his need, he hadn’t managed to stay still for one second since they’d arrived. He was resting on a couch beside Kenneth, occasionally shooting longing glances towards the restroom door. But, perhaps ‘resting’ was the wrong word to use, because no part of Dwight’s body was at rest. His toes tapped, his knees bounced, his hips shimmied and his nails dug into the material of the sofa. He looked utterly pained, struggling to withstand the massive pressure inside himself. 

Kenneth hadn’t needed to be told what was troubling his friend so much, it was blatantly obvious. It had been obvious since back when they were on the train and Dwight had been shifting uncomfortably every few minutes. It had been obvious since they’d gotten off of it, found the massive line for the toilet and Dwight’s face had flashed white with panic. It had been obvious since they’d walked through town and Dwight had needed to pause every few minutes to cross his legs and do a few quick bounces. 

It was more obvious than ever now, though. 

“It will be fixed soon,” Kenneth said softly. But, he knew that wasn’t the case. Two hours was a long time, and it would feel even longer to someone that was nursing a very, very full bladder. “You can hold it.” 

Dwight shook his head back and forth quickly. He felt it was nothing short of a miracle that he wasn’t already sitting in a puddle of his own making. His thighs were straining, pinning his aching cock between them as his bladder screeched for release. Dwight tended to be pretty vocal when he needed to relieve his bladder. When Dwight had to pee, everyone around him quickly became well aware of his problem because he couldn’t help but whimper, whine and groan with need. 

“Oh, gotta pee…” Dwight muttered, his knees rubbing together. “I gotta pee so bad… Ohhh, I can’t hold it…” 

Bryce had been pacing back and forth in front of them. Dwight had a bit of a suspicion that he had to go pretty badly as well, considering how unusually restless he was being. “Smith,” Bryce said. “Stop whining and stop fidgeting like that. You cannot let The Leader see you behaving so childishly!” 

“I can’t help it! I have to pee SO bad!” Dwight whined out. If he stopped moving, even for a second, he knew he’d break apart at the seams. His body would collapse in on itself and wave after wave of urine would spill forth in an instant. “And The Leader is not even here right now!” 

“You should straighten up when he DOES get here,” Bryce warned. He stopped his pacing rather abruptly and his legs turned inwards ever so slightly. 

“Nnnnh… Ooooh… Gotta peeee…Maybe The Leader will let us use his private toilet?” Dwight suggested. His hands were now fisted in the material of his shirt, twisting it around nervously. He suddenly became aware of a dampness that had gathered between his clenched thighs, and he really, REALLY hoped it was just sweat. 

Bryce took a couple seconds too long to answer. “Do not be ridiculous. You cannot ask him for that, it would be disrespectful. Hold it, practice some discipline for once in your life.” 

Dwight thought he practiced ‘discipline’ perfectly well a lot of the time. But, how could he ‘discipline’ his bladder? It was full! And no amount of ‘discipline’ was going to change that or make it any easier to hold in. “Don’t you have to go?” he asked. 

“There is nowhere for me TO go,” Bryce replied. 

“That is not what I asked,” Dwight said. 

“I would… LIKE to take a piss,” Bryce said. “But, there’s nowhere for me to do that, so I will wait. You must do the same thing.” 

Dwight didn’t think he could! His mind began to play over and over the wondrous sensation of letting go… But it would repeatedly end with a sharp pinching at the base of his cock and not relief. It was like his bladder was nudging at him and whispering ‘Remember this? Don’t you want to do this? You need to do this. Let’s go do this now.’ He tried to make himself stop thinking about it. But, of course, trying not to think about something only made him think about it more. Especially when that thing was constantly driving painful reminders through his body. His hands detached themselves from the sofa and dove between his thighs. He squeezed his penis so tightly it started to hurt and tears came to his eyes, but he thought the pain was still preferable over unleashing his flood here. 

But, even with the aid of his hands, Dwight wasn’t sure how much time he had left. He just wasn’t that good at holding it. Since he wasn’t the least bit shy about urination and was willing to do it right out in the open if necessary, and in whatever container was available, he just didn’t hold it that often. The only times he held it were when he knew Kenneth also needed to go and Dwight felt it would be mean to relieve himself while his bladder-shy friend suffered, or when there were literally zero options for release. Like right now, when he would be in trouble for peeing in anything other than a toilet, and the only toilet was out of bounds to him. “Ohhhh, I can’t hold it!” he moaned. “Oh my God, oh my God… I need to peeeee!” 

“Shut up!” Bryce commanded, and Dwight jumped, losing a spurt but not before noticing the way Bryce’s toes had turned in towards one another. 

Dwight should have tried harder to convince Bryce to let him pee at the train station, or anywhere else along their walk here. The Leader himself was late to greet them, so the two minutes it would have taken Dwight to relieve his bladder wouldn’t have mattered! He could have waited in that stupidly long line at the station, and gotten himself to a toilet! 

Ugh. Dwight had to stop thinking about places with toilets. That was only making it worse. He was not in a place with a toilet. He was stuck somewhere without one. So, no peeing. No thinking about peeing. He just had to pretend that he didn’t have to pee. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t have to pee. Don’t have to pee. Don’t have to pee…”

But, no matter how many times Dwight recited those words under his breath, they never managed to come true. He was as full as full could get! His bladder was screaming at him to find it something— anything— to empty out into and he had to clamp down hard on his muscles to quiet its whining. ‘I can’t! I have to wait!’ He was dancing up a storm in his seat, gripping and squeezing at himself, bouncing up and down. He was overcome by an awful trembling in his urethra, followed by the tiniest spurt of wetness. It wasn’t much, probably just a few drops. Nowhere near enough to show. Nowhere near enough to make his bladder feel less like it was going to pop. But still, enough to terrify him. 

‘Oh, God… I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it! I’m going to pee all over the couch!’

The thought was horrifying and suddenly the most real thing in the world. His hold on himself tightened. ‘Stop thinking like that,’ he ordered himself. ‘You can make it. It has to get fixed soon. You’ll be able to go in there, unzip, and—‘

Following the direction of his thoughts, Dwight’s bladder squeezed downwards. This spurt was larger than the last one, he felt a slight dampness against the hands he had crammed against his crotch. It took three full seconds to clamp it off. Three awful, terrifying seconds. 

He felt Kenneth’s hand then. He felt Kenneth’s hand on his thigh. Rubbing. Rubbing very tenderly… “Dwight…” he said softly. “It’s—“ 

“You are touching me,” Dwight squeaked. “Bryce is—“ 

Kenneth didn’t move his hand away, “Shhh…” 

Dwight whimpered at the sound, which was much too close to the sound of pee hitting porcelain. “Ah, don’t!” Dwight let go of his cock for a second to unclasp his belt, sighing slightly. He hadn’t even realized how harshly that thing had been cutting into his bladder this whole time. Freedom from that pressure felt good… But, the release was vaguely similar to the sensation of actually peeing, and within a few seconds, his urge was right back where it was. He frantically tried to come up with other ways to lessen the pressure. The only thing he could do was unfasten the button on his pants, that gave his bladder a little extra space, but it wasn’t enough. He realized that the only thing that would make him feel even the tiniest bit better would be to PEE, but that was out of the question. 

He tried to focus on the feeling of Kenneth’s hand against his leg, but the strain of holding his own bladder overshadowed the pleasant sensations of Kenneth’s touch. Then, Kenneth drew his hand away and Dwight felt worse. But, when Kenneth spoke he realized why he’d stopped touching him. “Bryce,” Kenneth called. “Perhaps we could go outside to wait instead?” 

Bryce abruptly stopped pacing, then jiggled up and down for a second. “Out—Outside? Why?” 

“It would be nicer, I think,” Kenneth said. 

“Alright,” Bryce said. “But, only for a few minutes. And no… No making a mess anywhere.” 

Dwight felt better for a second, hoping he may find some way to relieve himself outdoors. But, he hadn’t really thought it through all the way. To get into The Leader’s garden outside, he was going to have to stand up and walk. He’d been on the couch for so long that his legs were asleep, so standing wouldn’t have been easy anyway, let alone when his bladder was threatening to turn the room into a swimming pool. Gingerly, so, so gingerly, he eased himself up. Suddenly, it was like he was fighting against gravity as that awful feeling of squeezing assaulted his bladder once more. He didn’t dare move his hands from between his legs. He didn’t care if Bryce saw him holding himself anymore, it was better than Bryce seeing him have an accident. 

He hobbled on weak, contorted legs to the back door, whispering to Kenneth. “Th—Thank you..” Jeez, talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Dwight was going to burst if he didn’t get all this liquid out of himself right now! 

Once outside, Dwight just stood there, focusing entirely on not turning the garden into a lake. He danced from foot to foot, his hands crushed between his thighs. He must have looked a sight. 

Looking at Bryce, he wasn’t doing much better. He was almost doubled over, legs winding around each other. 

Just as Dwight started to feel a third spurt dribble from his tip, Kenneth took his arm and started to lead him off. Each step made a couple more drops slide into Dwight’s boxers as he puffed out sharp breaths. Kenneth had brought him to a cluster of large bushes. “Okay, if you hide in there and… I guess kinda crouch down, you won’t be spotted. I’ll stand here and keep watch for anybody, alright?” 

Dwight nodded right away and bolted into the bushes like he was running from a werewolf. If he stayed standing up, he could still see above the bushes a little, so that meant any servants in the garden would be able to see him. Kenneth was right, he was going to need to crouch. Since his belt and buttons were already undone, he just needed to unzip and allow his pants to drop down and pool around his ankles. As he lowered himself into a squat, more or less pinning his opening shut with his hand as he crouched down, he felt a little weird. He’d never peed in this position before in his life. He was always either standing upright, or seated on a toilet. Never like this. 

The position put extra pressure onto his bladder and made it feel like it was starting to tear. He began to dribble into the dirt, but didn’t allow himself to unclench. He kept looking down at himself, trying to ensure that once he started spraying, it wouldn’t spatter his legs or shoes. He tried to actually aim his dick, but could only maintain his balance if he kept his hands atop his knees. 

He was nervous to let go, scared of making a huge mess of himself, but within a second, his body had decided for him. Before he even realized he was peeing, a puddle was forming below him. He felt a few errant drops patter the side of one of his boots, but he didn’t have it in him to feel bad about it. He couldn’t feel bad about anything when he felt this good. He was finally peeing like he’d been dying to for so long. “Mmmm…” he couldn’t help murmuring a pleased little hum at the sensation of hours of suffering and torment coming at last to a heavenly end. God… How could it feel so good just to PEE? “Phew…” he exhaled through his mouth. His spine was tingling and his eyes even rolled back in his head a little, a relaxed smile overtaking his face. 

His stream was spraying rather loudly, and that concerned him slightly. Sure, nobody should be able to see him in his hiding place, but someone may wonder why these bushes were suddenly hissing so much… Hopefully, Kenneth was still the only one close enough to hear him going. 

When he heard whispering from the other side of the leaves, Dwight knew Kenneth wasn’t alone anymore, though. 

“Is Smith pissing back there?” Bryce demanded. 

“He was going to have an accident,” Kenneth replied, annoyed. “Would you rather him go THERE or all over The Leader’s couch?” 

“Th—That is absolutely unacceptable!” Bryce began to bounce. The sound of Dwight’s high pressure stream blasting the dirt was like a fist to his own bladder. He allowed his hands to wrap themselves around his dick, his hands now feeling like the only things keeping the ground beneath his boots dry. He heard Dwight sighing and his traitorous mind forced him to imagine how good Dwight must have been feeling, how absolutely incredible it was for him to let all that go…. “He is not to urinate on The Leader’s propert—“ His legs tangled up even more when Dwight’s release somehow picked up in intensity. “Oooh!—Once he’s finished, keep watch for me too, okay?” 

“Alright,” Kenneth said, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to need to crouch down to go though, I think…” 

“I don’t care,” Bryce said. “I’m verging on a medical emergency here.” 

Dwight’s firehose finally stopped blasting after a couple minutes. Feeling almost lightheaded, Dwight reached to shake himself off, then stood and pulled his pants back up, trying to catch his breath he dizzily left the cover of the bushes, and was practically shoved over by Bryce hurling himself behind them. As he stood himself beside Kenneth, he heard the rustling of clothing, Bryce cursing to himself about how squatting hurt his knees, and then a torrent of liquid spattering against dirt followed by a moan. 

Dwight blushed at the sound, it was weird to hear such a perverse noise come out of his commander. 

“Feeling better?” Kenneth asked. 

“Yes, quite a bit,” Dwight agreed. He laughed, “I feel five pounds lighter almost!” 

“Heh… That’s good,” Kenneth said. As Bryce continued gushing behind the bushes, Kenneth shifted around uncomfortably. “Hope he finishes soon… Listening to other people piss kind of…” 

Dwight realized that Kenneth hadn’t peed in all this time either. “Makes you have to go?” 

“Yeah,” Kenneth said, biting his lip. 

“I can stay here and keep watch for you. Bryce too if you’re comfortable with—“ 

“I can’t,” Kenneth said. “This is The Leader’s place,” he listed off. “I’d have to take my… pants down all the way… show… everything. I wouldn’t be able to get up right away if I had to, and—“ 

Dwight’s heart ached. His poor friend didn’t have the option of making emergency decisions like he and Bryce both could… “You won’t NEED to get up right away,” Dwight said. “No one’s going to try and attack you while you’re back there. They’d have to get through me first.” 

“I… I know,” Kenneth said. “But… I don’t have to go that bad. I can wait for the toilet.” He stuffed a fist into his mouth and nibbled on it, the action telling Dwight he needed to go quite a bit more than he was letting on. 

Bryce re-emerged from the bushes, and cleared his throat. “Alright, this never happened,” he said. “Agreed?” 

“…Yes,” Dwight and Kenneth both said. 

Dwight turned to Kenneth. “You’re sure you don’t want to at least try?” 

Kenneth imagined himself unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down around his ankles and squatting, half-naked, in the dirt for several minutes as his bladder only grew fuller and angrier. How pathetic would that be? He shook his head. “I will wait,” he said. 

“Well… Okay,” Dwight said. But, he was concerned. Kenneth used to be at least a little open to the idea of ‘trying’, but lately he’d been shutting that suggestion down whenever it was brought up to him. Ever since that day where he’d shut down for so long and made himself sick, he’d been more ashamed of himself than ever before.

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