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Introduction

I swayed from side to side as I rang the last customer up, trying my best to hide my desperation. “Thanks, come again,” I gave him a smile and leaned my weight against the counter, crossing my legs tightly. As soon as he was out the door, I rushed over and flipped the open sign to close. There weren’t a lot of things I liked about working at my parent’s store, but there were two things I sincerely despised: the undetermined hours (I have to stay there as long as there are customers), and the lack of a useable toilet.

I squished my thighs together as I pulled the mop out of the bucket. “Mom, can you please close up for me?” I asked her as she got her things ready to leave. “Please, I have to pee so bad!”

“First of all, Amber, there’s a perfectly fine porta-potty behind the building. I don’t understand the problem you have with it.”

I groaned.

“Second, we can’t go switching our days all the time. It screws up the books or something. Let your father know when you want to leave early and he’ll get it done. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I was left pee-dancing as I mopped the floor, squeezing between my legs every few seconds. Desperate to leave, I did everything half-assed like most every day I worked there, and squirmed the whole drive home. I was busting so bad by the time I got to my apartment complex that I was sweating. I ran up the stairs, jerked my hips around and squeezed my crotch as I stuffed the key in the lock, then dropped my things on the floor next to my open front door as I ran to the toilet. I started pissing while I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, releasing a torrent before my ass even made contact with the seat.

“Ooh…!” I moaned, my swollen bladder deflating as I released hours of pent up liquid. As I urinated, I touched the soggy crotch of my underwear and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t terrible. A little bit had trickled down my thigh. I’d leaked more in laughing fits.

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The First One

The next day, I was working by myself from noon to close. I intentionally avoided too many liquids on days that I worked, except for the monster that gets me through the day. 

I took one last pee before I left. I stood in the mirror and put my curly orange hair up in a messy bun, then headed over there. My first inkling of an urge to urinate came at about 5:00. It was dull, barely noticeable. I cracked open my energy drink and finished it by 6:30. Some more time passed and I got bored. I decided to have a snack, and I got a slushie to go with it. My better instincts told me I shouldn’t, but I thought it’d be better than being thirsty all night.

An hour and a half went by and it had more than caught up with me. My bladder had filled to a pretty uncomfortable degree. It being pretty slow, I was sat on a bucket by the door, jiggling my crossed legs.

The door opened, jingling a bell above it. I got up and stood at the counter, dancing subtly.

“That it for you?” I asked, as a couple of guys dropped some snacks on the counter.

“Marlboro Reds, too, please,” one of them said. As I walked over to get it, a wave of urgency hit me and I stuck my butt out a bit, pressing my thighs together. Since I was facing away from them, I winced quietly, then tried to look as casual as I could going back over to them.

I sighed as they left, putting a hand between my legs to press on my crotch and play with my waistband.

Time dragged on and on. I wandered aimlessly around the store, trying to distract myself. If I had to, I would’ve put myself at an 8/10, a 10 being my absolute maximum capacity. By the time 9:00 came around, I was dying. My stomach poked out like I’d swallowed a melon. “Ughh…” I groaned as I crossed my legs and bent over a little, rubbing my belly. I was really uncomfortable. I needed to pee in a toilet so badly. It was beginning to become impossible not to show any signs of how badly I needed to pee when customers came in. Most people just seemed a little annoyed when I was short and distant, if they seemed anything at all. When I was ringing this lady up and it felt like it was suddenly going to squirt out, I lurched forward for a second before forcing myself upright, pressing my thighs together and squirming around. She looked at me like I was crazy. I told her her total and bit my lip as she slowly counted out the change. I leaned against the counter and forced my legs apart, holding my breath and trying to seem like I wasn’t holding in enough pee to fill a swimming pool. When she left, I started marching around, retreating to the back where I could writhe and squirm openly.

A wave came and I started hopping around, squeezing my pussy. That’s when another customer came in. I groaned inwardly and went out there, stepping around behind the counter as casually as I could.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” they asked me as I rang them up.

“I’m just bored,” I laughed, my cheeks turning red.

It got to a point where it was less of coming in waves and more of a constant, unwavering sensation of pressure and discomfort. I decided I couldn’t sit down anymore. I got up and paced (or more accurately, hobbled) with my hands cradling my swollen bladder, sometimes taking a second to stand there squirming.

I went to the front and leaned against the counter. I was writhing my hips around with my legs crossed and my tensed thighs squished tightly together, taking deep, careful breaths so as to not increase the pressure on my bulging urinary organ. It was already being constricted by the waistband of my jeans. I couldn’t believe how badly I needed to urinate. I couldn’t stand it.

A really small amount of urine leaked out. “Nnngh-!” I whined, squeezing my pussy as the urge to urinate hit an all-time high intensity. “Hnn…!” I squeezed my vagina and frantically squirmed on the spot. I didn’t notice how badly I was sweating until I wiped my forehead. I glanced at the clock. There were only twenty more minutes until 10:00, closing time when I was lucky. I decided closing early wouldn’t annoy my parents too badly. Plus, I was about to explode.

I started walking gingerly over to the door, bent at the hips to avoid squishing my severely distended bladder. Every step was a pang of discomfort. When I was almost there, a group of inebriated, obnoxious college kids came in, talking and laughing, in no kind of rush to get their things and leave. I felt like crying. I acted like I was fixing something on the shelf, then shuffled my way to the back where no one could see me double over and hold myself.

“Fffffuck…” I was frozen until it almost came spurting out. I gasped and jerked my ass out, grabbing madly at my crotch. I whimpered and I stuck my hands down the front of my pants, squeezing my vagina and rubbing my thighs together like a cricket.

I peed a little directly into my hands, this time enough to wet the crotch of my underwear and make it warm. “Mmmph!” I whined, gripping myself for dear life, frantically trying to keep all the liquid inside of me contained. My urethra was full of urine, barely held in by my fingers digging into me. I was beginning to seriously consider that porta-potty, but right as the thought popped into my head, I heard someone at the counter.

I took a deep breath and steeled myself. When I took my hands out of my underwear, my body released that last bit of urine and wet my underwear even more. I could feel it spreading to my butt. I was too nervous to check the damage. Bent over, I wiped my hands off on a roll of paper towels and stiffly went up to the front.

I usually do, but I didn’t say anything to the customer as I rang their things up. I was in pain. The walls of my bladder were being stretched way past my limit. I decided as soon as I was done taking care of this customer, I’d give the porta-potty a chance.

“Are you alright?” he asked me. His friends were all around him.

My cheeks felt hot. “Y-yeah!” I lied, unable to keep my legs from dancing around below me. I was trembling from head to toe. I couldn’t untense my urethra, thighs, or my ass. My bladder was about to explode.

“I can wait if you want to run to the bathroom,” he said, making a couple of his friends chuckle. I wanted to die. There were five of them in total, most of which seemed to have things to buy.

I finished the first one, but the second guy had even more to buy. I was so uncomfortable and frustrated that I could feel tears coming. I wiped them off before they left my eyes.

As I counted out the second person’s change, a bit of urine trickled out of my straining, burning urethra for a couple of seconds. I couldn’t choke back the whimper I made as I lurched forward, almost dropping the money and holding myself. It took everything I had not to squeeze my crotch right there. I couldn’t remember a time when I needed to piss so badly. I was absolutely dying.

“Hey, we can put all our stuff on one card to make it go quicker,” one person said, putting their things on the counter.

“Yo, I can’t afford that!”

“I’ll pay you back,” they muttered. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t even say anything. I was holding my breath, trying to get them out of there as fast as I could before I sprinted behind the building. Hell, at this point, I would piss behind a bush.

“T-thirty one- s-seventy…” I stuttered. As they stuck the card in the chip reader, urine started to trickle out of me. I locked my legs together and jolted my hips around, trying to hold myself together while I stemmed the stream, but it wasn’t stopping. As the liquid started to spread down my thighs, I stuck my hands between my thighs and squeezed my vagina, writhing on the spot. It wasn’t enough. It grew to a hiss, rapidly darkening the crotch of my tight, pale blue jeans, streaking dark and obviously down my inner legs. “Nnnooo—!” I whined, twisting up like a pretzel as it dripped from my pants, pooling at my feet. They were all watching me, shocked.

“Brooo…” one of them said, grabbing their things and leaving.

“Please don’t tell the name of the store to anyone you tell about this…” I said quietly, urine pattering to the floor. “There aren’t a lot of people who work here.”

Most of them laughed uncomfortably. One of them said “I wasn’t going to tell anybody.”

I was left standing there, bright red in the face, emptying my overfull bladder into my pants. Even though I wasn’t able to fully drain myself into my pants, there was so much liquid. It spread from the huge puddle beneath me into the back room.

I walked stiffly in my squelching shoes over to the door, which I locked and flipped the OPEN sign on. I mopped up my pee and skipped the nightly routine, taking a bunch of paper towels from the bathroom to sit on while I drove home. I held myself almost the whole way, my tired urethra not happy with holding in my bladder any longer.

It was a cold, wet walk to my apartment. I closed the door behind me and went straight to the bathroom, where I ran the shower and stripped naked. I stood there holding my crotch and dancing, determined to save water like I usually was when I took a shower. As soon as the water was finally warm enough, I got in and opened the floodgates, finally completely emptying my tortured bladder. I sighed, leaning my head against the wall. I wanted to forget that day.

Edited by Quackduck (see edit history)
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I really thoroughly enjoyed your story. Long periods of extreme desperation, not knowing if you will make it or not are my all time favorite. Your writing is awesome with plenty of rich descriptive details. I loved it.  I had not noticed I clicked on the fiction section. Well done. Thank you for posting it.

Edited by wettingman (see edit history)
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  • 4 months later...

The Second One

It was the end of another pee-filled workday at my parent’s store. I parked my car with my hand between my thighs, hurried up the stairs as fast as I could, and bolted to the toilet. I was desperate, but it wasn’t so urgent this time that I didn’t have time to close the door and kick off my shoes. In the same vein, I was still wholeheartedly committed to the preservation of my water bill, continuing to retain my liquid waste as I ran the shower and pulled my clothes off. Naked, I held myself as I hopped around and danced crazily, impatiently checking the water every thirty seconds or so as it crawled from ice cold to lukewarm.

Suddenly, I heard my doorbell. I was confused until I got a call from my friend. I picked up.

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot!” I said, squeezing my crotch and squirming. “I’m in the shower, I’ll be right out. Use the key under the mat and make yourself at home!”

The phone call ended. I straddled the wall of the tub with my legs, scooting my pussy into it like mad, until the water was barely tolerable enough for me to get in. I exploded immediately, splattering hot yellow liquid between my feet. I let out a sigh of relief, pressing my hand over my deflating organ. I was eager to finish up in there, looking forward to a night of drinking with my friend.

. . .

I groggily woke up on my own couch, my mouth dry and my bladder about ready to explode. I glanced at the clock. It was about ten minutes after I was supposed to be at work.

I sat upright, the room still spinning a bit. “Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed, frantically pulling my pajamas off while I bolted into my room. I hopped around and held myself while I got my work clothes on. Finally, I was in the bathroom, potty dancing as I put toothpaste on my toothbrush. I sat down, loudly pissed while I brushed my teeth, then put my hair up and left.

Halfway there, I realized something. I was parched. I hadn’t drank much of anything besides alcohol in the past nine hours and I needed water ASAP. This would obviously be problematic, but even as I got to the store and made a beeline for the fountain drinks, draining a big gulp filled with water like I had just completed a marathon, I had no solution in mind for the inevitable desperation I’d encounter.

I wiped my mouth and sighed. It felt so good to quench my thirst. I went through another cup of water as I went through my routine and sat down behind the register. My belly was full of cold liquid.

After about an hour, I started to feel it. I was worried. I’d be damned if I pee’d my pants again. It wasn’t going to happen. Today was the day I faced my aversion to the shit box outside. Either that, or I’d have to wait until it’s dark and urinate on the side of the building.

Thirty minutes went by and I had been getting squirmy. I had had enough emergencies to know that the volume of liquid I’d consumed, coupled with the low amount of time it took me to consume it, a sudden spike in urgency was right around the corner.

I swayed my butt side to side as I rang this customer up. The line behind him was pretty long, but it wasn’t anything unusual. As I bagged his things, it was like a gallon of liquid suddenly dropped into my already full bladder. I lurched forward a bit, pressing my thighs together as waves of discomfort radiated through me. I stood awkwardly until the last person in line was checked out, my bladder pulsing with discomfort and urgency.

When everyone was gone, I pressed my fingertips into my coochie as I rushed outside. I opened the door to the porta-potty, immediately assaulted by the smell of waste and some poor attempt at odor management by a somewhat minty scent. I gagged, pulling my shirt over my nose as I stood there for a minute, holding myself and pee dancing. Balling up my fists in determination, I held my breath, rushed inside, and dropped my pants. I hovered high above the seat, straining to push my pee out. I seriously had to go, but I couldn’t get it out. I was too far out of my element. I wasn’t breathing, but it was almost like I could still smell it. The air was hot. My lungs were tightening before I even started to go and it was a dribble, at that. I had to breathe. But when I inhaled, I really thought I was going to throw up. I ended up clenching my stream (painfully, I might add), yanking my jeans up, and busting through the door, gasping for clean air while I gripped between my legs like a vice. I hopped around, grabbing at myself like crazy. I crossed my legs tight and doubled over, groaning and jerking my hips around. I can’t go in that thing again. I’m gonna have to pee outside. Which means I’m probably gonna have to wait until it got dark.

Wait… Fuck. It’s currently 6:30. Close to a few hours before the sun even started to set. I really don’t think I can wait that long. I’m dying as it is…

The back of the store wasn’t very private. There were adjacent businesses that could be watching me struggle to contain my pee. On that thought, I ducked into the backroom to squirm.

As the extreme urinary urgency and intense discomfort in my urethra from the interruption of a urine stream somewhat subsided, I wracked my brain for an alternative way of relief. If the back room had a door, I could consider pissing into a cup.

I squeezed my crotch with one hand, rubbing my thighs together with the hand that wasn’t straightening up a shelf. I was tasking myself with unnecessary things just to stay busy, desperate for a distraction. I was so uncomfortable. My bladder felt like a tight balloon ready to pop.

Ding. Customers. Now I had to act casual.

I steeled myself, forcing my hands to my sides as I went out to the register.

While I was checking them out, I suddenly couldn’t stand still. A wave hit and I felt like a moment of stillness would make the pee squirt out of me.

“You good?” he asked me.

“Yeah,” I breathed anxiously, trying to force my dancing body still while my face felt hotter and hotter. I couldn’t look at him. “Haveagoodday!” blurted out before turning on my heel and booking it into the back room, where I hopped around and squeezed my crotch like a crazy person. I tossed a leg up onto the table and grinded into the corner, completely overwhelmed with desperation. I had to piss so fucking bad I couldn’t stand it.

Somebody tapped the bell to let me know they’re there, as if I didn’t see them. Even in my desperate delirium, I was annoyed by it. I tried, but I was literally unable to stand idly for a while. I could not keep still to save my life. I was dying. Eventually, I was somewhat composed enough. I took a deep breath and carefully hobbled to the front. 

This person was the last customer in the store. As soon as they were done with, I was going to lock the door and empty my bladder into a big gulp.

I was bent at the hips, my thighs squished together as tight as they could be. My bladder was bulging like crazy, stretching with my waistband to encompass the extreme volume of liquid I was struggling to contain. I was jerking my hips around in response to intense, intermittent pangs of pressure. Still, I was determined to hold it. I had to. I was too close to relief to quit now.

I scanned her things one after another, my hands clearly trembling. My breath was bated. I was in so much pain.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” she asked.

At this point, why lie? “I’m just about to run to the bathroom,” I chuckled anxiously, frantically bagging her things as I felt myself starting to lose composure. It felt like I was about to pee myself. Not again… I thought miserably, then shook it out of my head. I’m not gonna piss my pants. I’m not gonna pee myself. I’m gonna hold it in. I’m gonna…

“You hurry along to the bathroom, now,” the lady said, turning to leave. I went to get a cup, but hesitated. I had to go to the bathroom or else this old lady was going to know I’m peeing in a cup.

I went into the back room, stuffed my hands inside my underwear, and danced frantically in place. Like, ten seconds. Ten seconds and I can get a cup… It felt like I was gonna lose it. I started scanning the room for something else. Nothing other than the corner, really.

I took off running, ready to not even bother to lock the door. I suddenly stopped in my tracks, yanking my hands out of my pants. Ding. A big group of teenagers. A little bit came out right there.

I clutched myself in misery as I rushed back into the back room, my eyes tearing and my body trembling. My pee dance was frantic. The bulging basin of liquid inside of me was radiating agony. I didn’t know what to do. It started to come out and I stuck my hands into my pants again, pissing all over my fingers as I saturated my underwear with a four-second long leak. “Hnng…” I choked back a whine, my bladder contracting violently and with screaming urgency. My urethra was stinging badly. In probably the most desperate state I’d ever been in in my life, I took off sprinting toward the porta-potty, my hands still directly gripping my pussy. The movement made the huge volume of liquid slosh around inside my tortured bladder, overstretched and constrained uncomfortably by the waistband of my shorts.

Halfway there, it started coming out and I couldn’t stop it. I squealed nervously a little, but I kept running, urine coming out in hard spurts with every step. The fabric of my shorts were darkening. Hot piss started streaming down my legs. I swung the door of the porta-potty open, but by then it was coming out full force with an audible hiss. I groaned miserably, pulling my hands out of my underwear and just letting it go. I didn’t want to go inside that thing, and now I guess I didn’t need to. “Fuck me,” I swore, spreading my legs apart a little more. I could feel my bloated bladder empty, relief spreading throughout the area, but I was too frustrated and humiliated to enjoy it. I was pissed off, too. At this store, and at myself for letting this happen again.

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