holditin 230 Posted May 15, 2021 Popular Post Share Posted May 15, 2021 Why hello! Look at this! I'm actually posting a new story here for the first time in.....my gosh, has it really been almost 3 years? Crazy! I've never stopped writing in all that time - it's finishing things that's been the problem haha But I've finally completed a story of some substantial length and so here it is! I hope you all enjoy, I greatly appreciate the patience of everyone who has liked my stuff in the past, and I hope to post my next story before 2024 😃 Long Pisser vs The Pee Queen Growing up, I became friends with a girl from the other end of town named Macy. There was a wide open park down the road from my house, and it became the gathering spot for all the kids in the neighborhood. Macy would bike the whole way from her home, which was so far away that she was in a separate school district, in order to join the rest of us. Often we would be out all day on the weekends, which led to an interesting discovery before too long. At the far side of the park were some sand dunes, the remnants of half-finished construction – we still don’t know if the township planned to expand the park, or build over it, but that’s not the point. The point is that when we’d all been roughhousing for a few hours, chugging our Gatorades and apple juice boxes that our parents insisted we take along with us, eventually we’d need to release all that liquid. And so everyone would trot over to the dunes, the guys taking one side and the girls the other, and the boys would whip their penises out of their trousers and the girls would hike up their skirts and squat down, and everyone would have a nice relieving piss before continuing with whatever game we’d come up with that day. Well….almost everyone would take refuge in the dunes, that is. Two of us would never go over there – Macy and me. I’d always felt abnormal from as far back as I can recall, because I’ve been blessed with a bladder of a horse, I think. I could drink and drink and drink, and still feel no more than a mild urge. Desperation was rare, but even when it did occur, I had impenetrable muscles down there, so holding longer still was never an issue. Macy was well-endowed in her own right, often not showing any signs of needing to pee until late in the day, and even then she’d still hold off. Soon it had developed into a game between us – when the rest of the gang would take a pee break, we’d continue doing whatever we were doing, and all the while Macy would make sly comments to me about how I should really go join the boys before I had an accident, and I would fire back and tell her that she really needed to squat with the girls before her skirt got wet. Macy was pretty tomboyish, and it lent her a certain competitive streak, and in fact it was she who first suggested that we should drink even more while the others had their relief. So that became our ritual – Macy would bring along a backpack every weekend, and when the rest of the kids went to pee, she’d reach into it, pull out a couple bottles of water, and we’d chug them down while exchanging knowing glances. I could tell that, while it was all in good fun, she did desperately want to beat me – to make me quit and run for the dunes before the day was up. The extra drinks would wreak havoc on her control, forcing her to pee dance in the late afternoons, but Macy would always end up biking back home unrelieved, an impressive feat on a bladder as full as hers surely was. As time went by, Macy’s bladder capacity kept increasing, along with her determination to best me, and she would be able to make us drink more and more, but my bladder was always up to the task. While we would both leave each gathering dry, I did so calmly and happily, while Macy would be frustrated, aching, and downright cross due to her inability to defeat my gigantic bladder. On a few occasions, I tried explaining to Macy that boys and girls were simply different, and I was blessed with naturally stronger muscles and a naturally bigger capacity due to my gender, but she would have none of it. “I CAN beat you! A girl can hold just as long as a guy!” she cried on many different days, usually with a bladder fit to explode underneath her skirt. “It’s like weightlifters and bodybuilders,” I told her with exasperation, “Girls can be really really strong, and have great big muscles that are much larger than the average guy, or even larger than a guy that goes to the gym every day….but the people with the biggest muscles will always be men. That’s just how it is. And this is the same thing. A guy’s sphincter muscle is both bigger and stronger than a girl’s, and the length of his urethra is longer too, which means I have more power and more time to stop up my pee than you do. I’m not trying to brag or egg you on….it’s just biology.” Macy would never accept my reasoning, huffing and puffing and drinking until her stomach hurt, forcing herself to hold in her urine for hours longer than she should, but she was always that one half-step behind me and couldn’t catch up, and it drove her mad. Unfortunately, before our friendly contest could develop any further, Macy moved away to the other side of the state. I’d see her in passing every year or two, when she would come back to the area to see some friends, but we drifted apart and never talked about holding our pee anymore. Still, throughout my teen years my bladder had continued developing, and it had reached positively massive proportions by the time I finished high school. If I had a little more self-confidence, I would have called the people from Guinness to measure me, but I figured that this sort of record was one that they didn’t want in their record books. Part of me did wonder if Macy had kept up her bladder training as well, and if her bladder had grown as mine had. After high school, I applied to and got into a good state university, but to make sure I didn’t just bury myself in my studies, I managed to gain acceptance into a fraternity. The guys were friendly enough, and I got to live in the frat house instead of a dorm, so it had its positives. Of course, I learned soon enough that nothing was off limits to college guys, and that applied doubly if you had anything about you that was different from everybody else. The first time I took one of my now-legendary pees into the frat’s toilet, there was a whole group gathered by the door by the fifth minute. Instead of going by my name “Lars”, the guys decided that they’d just refer to me as “Long Pisser”. Thankfully, they meant this good-naturedly, and seemed legitimately impressed on the rare happening when I would need to take a relief and piss for minutes on end. They also made sure not to use that lovely nickname outside the frat house’s walls, which pleased me greatly. It almost became a game to them, watching me drink at the frequent frat house parties and knowing that I’d stay out of the toilet until the next day. My first year in college passed by in this manner, escaping my classes with B’s and enjoying my time in the frat. The second year started much as the first had ended. My pissing had become more infrequent than ever as my bladder’s size kept increasing, and my “brothers” continued to get a kick out of this. But one day, soon after we’d come back to university from winter break, I overheard two of my brothers, Clark and Paul, talking to each other in low tones, and my name was brought up. I went over and inquired, and after a bit of hemming and hawing, they admitted that they’d heard a rumor come out of one of the sororities on campus – as luck would have it, this was a sorority that we had a bit of a rivalry with, as the stuck up girls there were continually finding ways to out-earn our charity fundraisers and throw parties that got just enough attention to leave ours as second best. The rumor was that this sorority had a “Pee Queen” of their own, a new transfer with a seemingly bottomless bladder. They kidded me about it for a few minutes, but then Clark got a look in his eye and suggested jokingly, “We should have a contest – their champion against our champion! Whoever holds it the longest wins! I’d just love to beat those girls at something...” Paul and I both laughed at the thought, but just then one of the ranking members of the frat, a senior named Jordan, passed by and overheard us. “I like it!” he declared, taking the idea seriously, and before too long it had been decided – we would make the challenge – Bladder against Bladder. Long Pisser vs Pee Queen. Whichever side lost would have to pay for the alcohol for the other’s events for the next fall semester. Of course, the fraternity was completely confident in me. After all, they’d witnessed my urinary displays time and time again. And I had no reason to fear either. In fact, I was relishing the idea of having a challenge, for once. Once the details were worked out, Jordan went and presented the idea to a couple of the top ranking girls in the sorority. As Jordan told it, “They looked at me like I was the dumbest man alive and told me they’d enjoy fleecing us out of all that money.” Evidently the sorority girls had just as much faith in their champion as the frat had in me. My interest was now piqued, and it became even more so when I learned from a girl at one of our weekend parties that the Pee Queen had accepted the challenge and was training rigorously for it. Finally it was time for the holding contest. The frat and sorority had spent the last month going back and forth with insults, building up their own champion and proclaiming the superiority of their own gender. With my titanium bladder and lifetime of holding experience, I wasn’t worried in the slightest about losing the challenge. I was just intrigued to see the girl who had been dubbed the Pee Queen, and see how long she could really last. We were originally going to have the contest at a Friday night party at the frat house, but all of the bragging on both sides made sure to expand things – instead of starting on Friday night, we’d meet up and empty our bladders on Friday morning before classes, and then go through the whole day without pissing before having the contest kick into overdrive that night. The girls were actually pushing to move things out even further and have our last pees on Thursday night, but I held firm on the Friday morning start time. “Who knows, this girl might not even make it to the party dry otherwise! They’re talking a big game, but we all know that guys can hold it longer. It won’t matter in the end, so let’s just keep the start time at Friday morning,” I implored to my frat brothers, and they agreed. And so on that fateful Friday morning at 6 am, I found myself being escorted by Jordan, Paul, and a few other early risers to the sorority house, where we would face off with my opponent and take our morning pees – our final ones before the contest got underway. When we entered the sorority house, the girls who were up to see the show began to laugh amongst themselves. It was clear that their confidence in their champion was sky high. Then I heard footsteps coming down the staircase off to the left, and a female’s voice retorted, “Yeah I know it’s the big day! I wouldn’t even bother with a morning piss if you guys weren’t making me! Didn’t even go last night, but that’s never phased me before...” The sorority’s champion was flanked down the steps by two of the upper members of the sorority, Ashley and Emma, two blondes with large racks, fake lashes, and full faces of makeup even at this hour. But my mouth hung open at the sight of the champion. It was Macy, all grown up and so well-developed that for a moment I thought she’d gotten breast and butt implants. Her eyes went wide as well when she saw me, but she kept her stiff upper lip and otherwise gave no indication to any of the girls that she knew who I was. “Ok, you two,” Ashley proclaimed when they had marched Macy down to face the fraternity contingent, “now it’s time for the mother of all pissing contests! With Macy’s superbladder, it may be the most lopsided contest in history, but I hope your boy will compete long enough to make it fun. So here we stand – champion against champion! Pee Queen against Long Pisser! The rules are simple. You’ll both drink the same amount during the day, and we’ll meet up at the fraternity’s party tonight and you’ll keep drinking until someone quits and takes a piss! Now, I think the only way to make it fair is to have the two of you go into the bathroom together to pee at the same time….so off you go, you two! Get to it!” I was taken aback at the idea of having to disrobe and pee in front of Macy. That wasn’t part of the bargain. But she only hesitated for half a second before turning to walk towards the sorority’s first floor bathroom, and so I had no choice but to follow. As soon as the bathroom door shut behind us, I tried to reason with Macy in a low tone, “Macy, you’re the Pee Queen?? Look, I’m sure you’re good at holding it, even better than you were years ago, but let’s give this up. You don’t have to do this.” Macy whipped around to face me at these words, “What’s the matter, Lars? Afraid I’ll humiliate you in front of your new friends?” I stuttered before replying, “No, Macy, I’m not worried about losing, even if you’re my opponent. We both know how strong I am, and I promise you I’ve only gotten stronger since our last meetings all those years back. I don’t want to end up humiliating YOU. Let’s quit now – you can be the Pee Queen at the sorority, and I’ll be the Long Pisser at my frat, and we can both be happy.” Macy’s face turned a shade of red and her eyes began to narrow, “You’re patronizing tone won’t work to get you out of this, Lars. Ever since our contests when we were kids, I’ve been training my bladder for this moment. I’ll hold circles around you, and I’ll hold it even when I’m dying from the pain, and then I’ll take another drink and hold it longer. Of course, I sincerely doubt that you can push me to that point anyway, but just know that I will not quit…..no matter what. I have a whole new life here – I’m well-respected by the girls, I have no equal Lars! And you’re not about to take this from me! You can’t, because my bladder of steel can’t be beaten!” I sighed and tried one final time, “Macy, please, I’ve told you in the past. It’s biology. No matter how hard the greatest girl in the world trains her bladder, the greatest guy in the world will always top her. My bladder is larger, my sphincter muscles are bigger and stronger, and your urethra is so short that if you lose focus even for an instant once you reach max capacity, you’ll leak. We really do not have to go through with this contest. We’ll call it a draw.” “Draw my ass!!” Macy yelled, loud enough that I wondered if everyone outside the door could hear her, “I’ve waited for years to get this opportunity! I’m going to outhold you if it kills me!” Macy stomped to the toilet, pulled down her pajama pants, spread her legs wide, and began pissing a waterfall into the toilet bowl. “Now get over here, whip out that cock, and piss between my legs into the toilet. We have to go at the same time for it to be fair….not that it’ll matter in the end.” I just shook my head, “No it won’t….”, but I dutifully took my position, standing in front of her and letting loose with my own torrent. And that’s where we stayed for the next 5 minutes as our bladders emptied out. Macy was glaring at me in a way I hadn’t experienced before, and I was doing my best to return it. If this was how she wanted it, then I would give it back to her. My pee stream was the one that ended first, and as I dripped dry, Macy gave me a smirk. The implication was clear – she believed her bladder was bigger, and this was exhibit A. Inwardly, I noted that it was more likely that she’d been holding on far longer than me prior to this piss, hence the greater volume, but I decided to let her have this moment. After a further minute, Macy’s thick stream came to a halt as well. We washed our hands and exited the bathroom, and when we were in view of everyone again, Macy called out to her girls, “I pissed a minute longer than the Long Pisser! This contest is already in the bag, girls! Get ready to pay up, gentlemen!” Ashley was standing ready for us, and she gave each of us a bag containing 6 water bottles. “You’ll drink these during classes throughout the day. That’ll keep it even for when we meet up for the real contest tonight.” “With pleasure!” Macy spat, grabbing her bag and earning a cheer from her sisters. Jordan took my bag and handed it to me, and I casually popped open the first bottle and drank down a third of it. When I left for my morning classes, I was accompanied by two sorority sisters, tasked with ensuring that I did not cheat and simply pour the water out somewhere. Similarly, Macy was followed by two of my brothers. So it was for real now – a holding contest years in the making. 14 hours after the contest had started, 8 pm on the dot, the fraternity house opened its doors for the big party, and thus for the continuation of the champion vs champion holding contest. I had finished my water with time to spare in the day, and still felt virtually no urge to urinate despite the 3 liters of water coursing through my system. My brothers that tagged along with Macy had reported back that she too had finished her water a couple hours prior, and besides some cross looks on her face, seemed none the worse for wear. So her bladder had gotten bigger then, because a decade ago this would have been enough to send her scrambling for the toilet after such a long time. Students trickled in for the party, as most were still pre-gaming and chose to be fashionably late. I relaxed and talked aimlessly with a few of my brothers, and at 9 pm Macy finally made her long-awaited arrival. She was accompanied by seemingly the entirety of her sorority, the sisters clearly hell-bent on witnessing their champion’s victory lap. I heard them murmuring about the “Pee Queen”, as despite a definite bulge in her lower abdomen, Macy walked confidently into the building and her whole troop entered right along with her. Ashley was front and center once more, meeting Jordan in the living room of the frat house, where a dance floor had been set up, and more importantly, all of the drinks were sitting in ice tubs in the corner of the room. “Let’s do this!” Ashley declared, and Jordan nodded, “You’re on!”. I was bemused at the thought of each of them saying these things on behalf of Macy and I, but I gazed at Macy’s stern visage briefly and realized that if she found this as ironic as I did, she wasn’t showing it. Within a minute, a bottle of beer was thrust into my hand, and the same happened to Macy. She regarded me with a defiant stare, shrugged her shoulders, and knocked back the bottle in one prolonged swallow. Her sorority sisters cheered, and the majority of the party-goers had begun to mill about and watch this spectacle. Not to be outdone, I also drank down my first bottle, and no sooner had I finished than second bottles were handed to each of us. We kept going, and Macy had been in the frat house for no more than 10 minutes by the time we’d emptied four beer bottles each down our throats, the liquid on its way to bloat out our enormous bladders. Macy strutted about the room with practiced ease, chatting with her sisters, showing no ill effects of the bladder bulge protruding from her midsection. She’d drunk enough to have any other girl hopping frantically for the toilet by now, if not already pissing themselves silly, but Macy was the Pee Queen, after all. Some of my brothers shot me a quick glance to confirm that I was still in good condition, and I waved them away with a smile. A little beer wasn’t going to get the best of me. For about an hour or so, the crowd was watching each of us intently, looking for signs that one of us was about to explode. But it seemed that we were both far too well-trained for that, and slowly the rest of the students began returning to their dancing and drinking. By 11 pm, with no signs of the contest ending, Ashley and Jordan got together for a minute and agreed that the drinking needed to continue. This time I received both a bottle of beer and a large glass of water to combat the onset of drunkenness, and Macy was given the same. I could tell that she was annoyed that the contest was still continuing and that I had not been beaten yet, but she showed no hesitation at drinking down the additional beverages. I followed suit, and once emptied, both the bottle and glass were replaced, and so we each drank down our second beers and waters as well. Then we were allowed to get back to the party, with my frat brothers keeping a watchful eye on Macy for any signs of desperation, while her sisters were doing the same to me. I was still unaffected, but after about 20 minutes I could tell that this punch of liquid had hit Macy’s bladder. It was bulged out more than ever, and she was now walking just a bit stiffly and rocking ever so slightly on her heels when she stood still to chat with someone. Macy hadn’t had a relief in over 17 hours, so she was certainly living up to her name as the Pee Queen, but I expected the contest to end fairly soon now. But as the clock’s hands circled around again and hit midnight, Macy was no worse than she’d been 40 minutes prior, and I overheard her telling a girlfriend, “Lars seriously thinks he can compete with me! What a joke! I tell you, I wouldn’t even dream of pissing right now. A girl can hold it when she has to!” After a further hour, Ashley and Jordan again brought each of us two beers and two glasses of water, and Macy gave me a long stare this time before downing the beverages. By now I felt that I could definitely pee, but it was no problem at all to keep it in, and I could tell that I still held the advantage. By 2 am Macy’s bladder had bloated out well over the waistband of her skintight jeans, and a sour look was stuck on her face at all times. The pressure of 20 hours of pee was making itself known inside her aching bladder, but Macy’s resolve was still too strong, and she continued to act normally despite the flood brewing within her. By 4 am the party had died down, and even the sorority sisters and frat brothers were losing steam. Taking stock of their champions, it was determined that neither Macy nor I was in any position to give up the contest, and so it was proposed that we get to bed and resume things in the morning, with no before bed peeing and no morning pee. Just saying such a thing out loud seemed like madness to the normal-bladdered people in the room, but I agreed and Macy gave a grim nod as well. To prevent any cheating, we both ended up sleeping in one of the double rooms that two of my brothers were gracious enough to lend us for the night. I could tell that Macy was having some trouble dealing with the pressure in her bladder as she tried to relax herself to sleep, but when I started to bring it up she snapped, “Don’t even try it. I’ll outhold you! I’m the Pee Queen and I can always hold it longer! You haven’t even seen close to my limits – to what I’m capable of!” With Macy’s words ringing in my ears, we both drifted off to sleep. The next morning I awoke to increased, but still easily manageable, pressure in my bladder. I turned to the adjacent bed and saw that Macy was stirring as well, and as she rolled over, the covers gave way and I got a glimpse of her bladder, bulging massively over her thin white panties. It was a wonder that the girl’s shorter sphincter muscle had held firm through the night, but Macy opened her eyes and glared at me from across the room, and I knew we weren’t finished yet. It was 9 am, meaning we were each holding in 27 hours of pent up pee, and as Macy dressed, it was clear she was uncomfortable. She was making brief pauses, maybe half a second, in between each movement, a clear sign that she was having to focus some of her energies and concentration on keeping her bladder in check, rather than moving with her normal sense of ease. Beyond a dull ache in my abdomen, I still felt fine, as I was used to holding much more for much longer periods of time than this. The sour look was back on Macy’s face as we went down together to greet the rest of our group. Macy’s sisters had showed up at the crack of dawn, going on only a few hours of sleep in a bid to support their champion. Neither the fraternity brothers nor the sorority sisters seemed able to believe that the contest was still going on, or that both Macy and I appeared as calm as we did after going more than a full day without a bathroom break, but each party agreed that it was because they hadn’t expected the opposing champion to last this long. The sorority still had complete faith in Macy, judging by the looks of envy and compassion they were giving in her direction, just as the fraternity still had confidence in me. We sat for breakfast, and Ashley and Jordan had the bright idea of speeding along the contest by providing us each with a beer to go along with our multiple cups of coffee and orange juice. Neither of us refused the additional liquids, though Macy was casting her eyes in my direction every couple of minutes, searching in vain for signs of bladder fatigue. When I stared back, I could see the signs growing from her. She was shaking a leg every so often, sometimes crossing it over her other leg, sometimes tapping her feet. Her morning bladder was giving her problems and she was doing everything she could to prevent it from being obvious to onlookers. Her sisters hadn’t noticed, and it seemed it was only I that caught on to her increased desperation. After a further two hours and a further pint of beer failed to determine a winner, one of the sorority sisters had the bright idea to have us go into the city and spend the day there, to get us moving and active and speed the contest along. Macy shot the girl a glance that could freeze water in the desert, but the aloof girl didn’t realize and chatted merrily to her friends about her great suggestion. We took the public buses into the city, Macy and I accompanied by a good dozen of the ranking members of our houses, and began to roam the streets. Macy’s eyes searched the skyline for a distraction, and I ran mine up and down her body every few minutes, searching for more signs that she was cracking. She’d needed to stop a few times on the pretext of readjusting her heels, but I noticed her reaching one hand behind her back when she bent down to reach around and cup her vagina from the rear, giving herself a quick squeeze to help with her composure. It was a practiced move, I was sure, one that she’d perfected after many public holds, and surely one that she wouldn’t use unless the situation was becoming dire. As the clock reached and passed noon, the strain on Macy’s face was evident, as 30 hours of piss holding were taking their toll on her feminine body. Though my pressure was building as well, it was nowhere near as bad as hers, and I felt in total control of the load I was containing. We stopped at a cafe for lunch, and Macy grumbled to herself when the waitress placed a large soda in front of her. I had gotten one, and thus Macy was forced to order the same, despite her bladder crying for a respite from the heavy drinking load. Her sisters were still oblivious to her growing desperation, as they chit-chatted absentmindedly about how they were going to win our money and “show up the boys once again”. I finished my meal and drink and gave a sarcastic smile to Macy, whose glass was still half-full. She returned fire with a rotten look of her own, before downing the rest of her soda in defiance and clenching the glass so hard in her fist that I thought she might break it. But then a particularly hard bladder spasm hit her, and Macy was forced to relinquish her hold on the glass so that she could cross her legs over one another and squirm for relief. Then we were up, continuing our tour of the city, moving at a slightly slower pace than in the morning, because Macy was no longer walking with the same energy she had earlier. Her body was beginning to plead for surrender, her considerable limits no longer appearing to be as limitless as she had proclaimed them to be, but Macy was true to her word – she was not a quitter. She steeled herself with resolve I didn’t know she possessed, and we continued onward without her showing any further signs of need. Finally, when street lights began to turn on due to darkness, close to 7 pm, we all boarded buses back to campus, this time arriving at the sorority house around 8. Macy and I were now containing 38 hours of piss in our overstretched bladders, and while I could still hold more in my prodigious male bladder, I wasn’t as confident in my female opponent. Soon after returning to the sorority house, Macy had begun to shake her legs more pointedly, and now people were noticing. Worse, she was not immediately able to stop this motion on command. She was also walking more stiffly than ever, bending forward slightly to accommodate her enormous bladder, which was now bulging ridiculously outwards in front of her. The swell of her abdomen reached to her navel, her fit abs now hidden behind a painfully full bladder in need of release. The girls were beginning to whisper, with the Pee Queen looking quite in need of peeing, while I was still able to get by with showing only minimal signs of need. “You won’t beat me – this girl isn’t peeing before you do. Not a single drop is coming out, do you understand??” Macy said suddenly, and while her posture was directed at me, I got a sense that she was saying the words as much to her rebelling bladder as to me. Some of my brothers got us snacks and beers to wash them down, and while Macy looked like the last thing she wanted to do on this earth was drink the beer, she saw me swallowing mine down and did the same. Soon after I detected a frantic wave of desperation overtake Macy, but instead of giving in, the girl shut her eyes, tensed herself as hard as she could, pouring all of her concentration into bladder control, and after 30 seconds she was able to ease up and continue holding. Again, I was impressed by her steadfast desire to remain in the contest. Her willpower was such that I was sure she would not give in until her muscles were completely overwhelmed and the choice was out of her hands. We drank beer after beer as evening turned into night, our brothers and sisters cheering us on. Macy appeared unwilling to continue with each emptied bottle, but whenever I would ask for another from a mate, she would grit her teeth and follow suit. Our bladders appeared so full it was obscene, the unnatural orbs encompassing the whole of our abdomens. We were overhydrated to the point that I could nearly feel the new beer piss streaming into my stretched out tank mere minutes after it was drunk. Macy’s concentration had become so intense to combat her dire need to urinate that I detected a vein throbbing on her forehead when her hair was parted just so. Beer number 6 was completed at 11 pm, and shortly thereafter Macy let out a frustrated, pained shriek as her bladder cramped painfully, trying to force out its overdue load. Macy had no choice but to double cross her legs and jam her fingers into her groin, kneading her pussy for a full minute before shakily removing her hands. To my surprise, she was still dry. Macy’s sorority sisters were now chattering more frequently, becoming truly fearful of defeat in this battle of champions. My frat bros, on the other hand, were gloating incessantly amongst each other, as my incredible bladder was full, but I was still quite far from the desperation on display from my rival. As Macy began to pee dance, her control wavering, I caught a glimpse of her blown out bladder, and it was now so large and stretched that the skin of her lower belly was turning a light pink. Her female body, however powerful, was being pushed further than it could handle, her weaker sphincter unable to deal with the boundless pressure, while my strong male body was still able to adequately cope. Somehow Macy struggled onward, and by midnight she had yet to concede. However, both her sorority sisters and my frat brothers were exhausted, feeling the effects of such a late night the day before. And so the party finished, and for the second night, Macy and I retired to a bedroom unrelieved. When we entered the room and shut the door, I turned to find Macy marching in place to maintain what little control she had left over her short sphincter muscle. “Look, your bladder is simply containing too much, whether you want to admit it or not. It’s clear who is winning this, and it’s the same as every other time we’ve done this,” I told her with exasperation creeping into my voice. Macy shot me a deadly look, but she could not stop marching as she spat back, “I don’t care how I look right now! I WILL hold it! I’m stronger than you, you’ll see! It’s impossible, I can’t lose control!” With a monumental effort, the girl stopped her pee dance and stood straight, sweat now pouring down her face, her bladder just totally maxed out in her abdomen. And so we got into bed, and while I fell asleep within minutes, I could only imagine how much sleep Macy would manage to get, such was her complete inability to relax, lest she flood the room with stinking piss. I was awakened by the combination of my throbbing bladder, and an incessant rustling coming to my side. With bleary eyes, I checked my phone – 6 am. 48 hours without a piss, and I could now say that I really needed one. All the beers were making my bladder ache. But that rustling….I turned my head and saw Macy, against all odds still dry, but positively writhing next to me, kicking her legs and pulling full force on her panty-clad vagina with both hands. Her face was streaked in sweat, her body covered in it, her hair matted against her forehead, and she stared back at me with wild, unfocused eyes. “Caaaaan’t hold iiiiiiitttttt…...” she moaned pathetically, and yet she continued to do just that. She continued to deny her female body the one thing it wanted more than anything else, which was to hose down the entire room with what was surely a gallon of pent up piss. I was certain that when she erupted, her stream would be similar to a bathtub faucet. I muttered this imagery to her, eliciting a long moan and more frantic kicking, her enormous bladder quivering. It appeared to be made of iron, as despite Macy’s rapid movement, the unfathomable bulge in her abdomen remained as still as a rock. I was sure it was twice as hard, but I was also sure that touching it may have dire consequences. What was not made of iron, however, was Macy’s bladder sphincter muscle. While it was a good imitation, as it had to have been for her to last 48 hours with an unspeakable amount of drinking, now the facade of the girl who never needed to pee was broken, with Macy needing both hands and as much frantic movement as she could muster to provide the necessary backing for her twitching, nearly unclenching sphincter. The muscle was exhausted by yesterday afternoon, having to work overtime and overload to hold her mammoth piss at bay. By now, 48 hours after we began this dreaded contest, exhausted did not properly describe it. Emaciated. Fatigued. Debilitated. Her bladder sphincter, for all is strength, was pure and simply done. I sat up with a groan and started putting my jeans on over the boxers that I’d slept in. “Ready to call it quits yet?” I asked in a sighing tone. Macy shot me a glare so fierce I nearly recoiled, but she could only hold her gaze for a second before another wave of bladder agony ripped through her. With a muffled scream, she followed my lead in standing from the bed, and despite having one leg crossed over the other so far that she was leaning almost parallel to the floor, she began trying to slide some shorts on over her panty-clad bum. She got them on, tried to stand straight, and immediately doubled over like she’d been shot with a cannonball. ‘No,’ I reasoned to myself, ‘the cannonball in her abdomen is just her overloaded bladder.’ Macy’s face was beet red, holding with all of her power, shaking from the effort. “I’ve…...I’ve worked so hard…..” her voice came out as a whisper. I could barely hear her, and it seemed only fitting to bless my ears with my rival’s admission of defeat. And so I walked stiffly over to her, inwardly admiring the intensely swollen state she’d managed to drive her bladder to achieving. ‘Pretty damn good for a girl,’ I had to admit to myself. I leaned in, bringing my face closer to both hers and her behemoth of a bladder, due to her doubled over position. Both hands were grasping between her legs to provide any semblance of control, but her fingers and thighs were quivering uncontrollably. “I’ve…...I’ve tried…….I built my reputation on this…….on always being able…...to hold it. The girls…..they respected me…….they looked up to me. And now…...YOU…..ALWAYS YOU…..you’re going to ruin it for me…...I want to so badly…….but I…..I can’t hang on…...I’m going to piss….” There it was. The admission I wanted came succinctly from Macy’s stuttering lips. The admission she’d never even made when we were growing up. The admission that I could outhold her. It was a triumphant moment. And yet…..as I looked at Macy, nearly in tears from the effort she was putting forth and the emotion of knowing what this defeat meant to her, I felt no triumph. No joy. It was a hollow victory. And so I stood in indecision for a minute, never letting my eyes leave Macy and her crumbling control. Harder she grasped, harder she fought, but her bladder was now at the point where it NEEDED relief. Peeing was necessary and there was no other option. “Gahhhhhhhh!” Macy whimpered as the strongest bladder contraction yet washed over her. She withstood it, somehow, on will alone, but a second later her bladder was rocked with another one, and another. It had reached the absolute limits of its capacity, and from her shorts I saw a droplet of urine break through and crash to the floor. Then another. And another. Her hands were still pressed against her crotch as tight as a vice, but the droplets became a pitter-patter. In another few seconds it was a soft stream. Macy’s face was now red not only from effort but from embarrassment, and from shame. She had lost. And in that moment, I took pity on her, and I knew what I had to do. Without even taking my pants down, I let go of my hold over my own iron bladder, and a torrent of piss began to spurt forth, soaking my pants in seconds and pooling on the floor around me. I was still staring directly at Macy’s face, and I could see her blink a few times in confusion at the puddle that was now creeping closer to her feet. But then the sound of my release overwhelmed her senses and with another “Ughhhhh!” the dam broke and Macy’s piss began to rocket out of her in earnest. Our two floods ran forth and mixed in an instant, the amount of piss we had contained in our bodies surpassing any normal healthy amount. After perhaps 30 seconds, Macy had recovered enough from the orgasmic feelings of relief coursing through her body to ask me, “…….What are you doing?…..” It was such an innocent, genuinely confused question, and for a moment it was difficult to keep from chuckling at the thought of just standing and making normal conversation with my great rival, all the while piss continued to flow freely from us and spread across the floorboards. And so I told her, “Macy…….this means more to you than to me. So you can win. Tell them I pissed myself as soon as I woke up, and then you pissed right next to me to show just how much bigger your bladder is. You’re the Pee Queen.” And with that, I cut my flow, having thoroughly drenched everything from the waist down, and walked towards the bedroom door. I grabbed the doorknob, but before turning it, I craned my neck back to the direction of Macy. Her mouth was hanging open, still not believing the situation in front of her and the sacrifice of pride I had just made. Piss still leaving her body at a rapid pace and no indication of when her mammoth bladder would finally empty out for good. And I whispered one final thing, “But so you know…….I’m still the Long Pisser, and I think I’m entitled to a rematch down the road….” My eyes stayed on her a second longer, just enough time to see her lips mouthing “Thank you” as she continued to gaze at me in glassy astonishment. And then I turned to face the world for the first time in a new way – as a man who had wet himself. Who had lost control of his bladder. Who came in second place in a holding contest. I took a breath and threw open the door. In the living area of the sorority house, I found a few members of my frat, still passed out from the night of drinking. It was devilishly early, but it was what it was. So I roused them, and when their eyes got wide and confused at the sight of my sopping pants, I told them curtly, “I lost. Couldn’t hold it. Turns out she’s the Pee Queen after all. Come on, let’s go. We’re gonna have to start raising money as soon as possible to cover all the beer these girls drink in a semester.’ With my pants dripping urine behind me, the frat guys all left that morning with bleary eyes. I left technically as a loser, but as we walked down the road, I heard a faint, high pitched cheer coming from the awakening girls in the sorority house, no doubt having been informed of the victory of Macy – the Undefeated Pee Queen, and I decided I’d never felt more at peace with losing. Markj9494, Size_matters;), fortardball87 and 14 others 13 1 3 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted May 15, 2021 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted May 15, 2021 What a fantasmic story that was I loved the ending it was so adorable Pain 1 Quote Link to comment
Pain 927 Posted May 15, 2021 Share Posted May 15, 2021 Great work buddy! Loved the ending but would like too request you to post more stories on here! I love your work buddy. Quote Link to comment
wedgeantilles 156 Posted May 27, 2021 Share Posted May 27, 2021 That was another great story - I loved the ending. That was perfect - he has beaten her. But he realizes how much more the wins means to her and he let's her win. Beautiful :) Pain 1 Quote Link to comment
pixelkatt 16 Posted May 30, 2021 Share Posted May 30, 2021 Oh my goodness, if it hadn't been for Wedges bump I might have missed this! Excellent story as always holditin, although I really think that the relationship between Lars and Macy could go deeper and become more intimate. Maybe that's just me though. Quote Link to comment
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