HissGenerator 237 Posted July 4, 2022 Popular Post Share Posted July 4, 2022 (edited) ————————————————————— it’s been a while since I posted a fictional story. Actually, I started many during this hiatus, but ended up deleting many of them because I’d lose motivation. So, I took a break. Seems I needed it as this story is a whopping 9-10 pages long, according to Microsoft Word. I didn’t want to create chapters, so you all can simply read the whole thing in one go without having to wait for each chapter. Once again, as in a previous story of mine, “she” is unnamed so that whoever you are, if you so desired, can call her whomever you’d like: a crush, a girlfriend, a wife, whoever; I leave her identity at my readers’ discretion. Any edit history will be with respect to typos I find as I re-read my work in this post. It’s long, so typos are inevitable. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed detailing it. ’Til next time.. ————————————————————— Driving Disaster Although she had stopped at the rest-stop and gone in for some beverages, her anxiety with using public restrooms prevented her from going. Her bladder reminded her that the toilet is only a door away, but she refused as her anxiety flared in her chest. She purchased the beverages and as she approached the exit, her bladder whispered into her mind: “last chance, turn around..” But she ignored it, walking through the sliding doors; and whilst she walked to and approached her car, she can hear her bladder yelp into her mind: “No! No!, please go back! You have a chance!” And once again, she shook her head, refusing to acknowledge her opportunity. Her anxiety just told her to wait it out. After all, she just had to wait another fifty miles or so, then she’d reach the motel she planned to stay in for the night; then she can go pee. However, now that she was back on the road, her urging bladder slowly began creeping out of her belly, building until sufficient tingle remained constant in her lower abdomen. She clenched her sphincter muscles in response, but it didn’t go away as fast as prior to her break at the rest-stop. Her mind began to second-guess her anxiety, after noticing it took longer for her clenching to make the tingles go away: “perhaps a public restroom isn’t so bad?” But as soon as the question rang in her mind, just as fast sprung her anxiety about even considering the opportunity and picturing herself doing so. And though her mind reassured her, and gave her some confidence that she could make it, the extent of her distended bloated belly signaled: — considering that she was wearing a flow-y red floral dress, was yet noticeably jutting out — “maybe it was just the way I’m sitting”, she reflected when her large stomach signaled. Suddenly while thinking — thinking she could perhaps make it — her bladder’s urge arrives faster, no longer gradually creeping its way, and contracts beneath the skin of her lower abdomen, sending strong tingles urging her to open her sphincter downwards into her perineum. “Ooooff..”, she mouths, then purses her lips. She squints her eyes, not outright squeezing them shut — since she knows wouldn’t be able to see the road had she fully closed them — and bites her incisors down on her bottom lips. Her head lightly twitches, tilting to the left when the tingles in her perineum grow upwards and sit at on top of her pubic bone. “Ahhh..”, her mind winces as growing tingles agitate, ringing her awareness like cellphone that won’t let up. Careful not to have it affect her driving foot, she presses her milk-tea thighs together, shoving her dress in between the middle inseams thereof with her left hand, all but her thumb, which, though insignificant, caresses her right thigh over the dress. She wrinkles her eyebrows and tells herself to focus on the road, while her pressing thighs squeeze its tension into her and against the constant wave yearning to overcome the flood walls. The tingles grow further upwards and sit just above her pubic bone: her lower abdomen muscles briefly twitch beneath. She responsively clenches harder as a burning sensation overwhelms her and keeps like so for thirty seconds, until finally she feels it start to subside, slowly retreating away into the depths of her swollen belly. Although she hides her bladder away, it irritation bloats her belly with pressure. She covers another five miles before her bladder comes knocking again, this time more prepared to defeat her hold. She felt her innards expand beneath that full belly. Though her thighs were already together, and only lightly pressed — having relaxed them thus far, after the prior hold — she resumed their prior tension, but her contracting bladder only shot more tingles into her perineum; so she responded with tighter squeezing, but with no avail: her tingling only growing stronger and crawling back up the front of her, forcing her pelvic lips to shrink inwards as she instinctually clenches her muscles very tightly. “Oooo! Come on, come on, come on! Why won’t you just let uppp!”, arguing with her bladder while clenching her teeth. She so badly wants to bring her feet together and closer so that she may stomp them in place alternatively, but her right foot is too preoccupied with the gas pedal. Instead, her left foot starts to pace, side-to-side, while left knee jams tightly into the other one. She shoves her left hand back in between the middle of her thighs, all fingers in this time. Her palm facing her inner right thigh, it grasps onto its sensitive skin and squeezes. It feels moist, her inner thighs no doubt red as they remain together and sweating, her dress absorbing some of it. And though her foot continues to dance and her left arm pressing its hand into her right thigh, the burning beneath her perineum returns: her bladder is vehemently contracting its hot sloshing pee into her walls. She covers two miles in her unrelenting desperation, until the drop of sweat riding down her forehead and delaying in her right eyebrow notifies her just how desperate her situation is: she’s sweating though the air conditioner is running. She removes her left hand to caress her lower left thigh, but as quick as she does so just as quick the tingles get worse, so she shoves her hand back in, but this time against herself: all the way down to the perineum, and it’s a whole swamp though she clasps herself over her dress. Another rushing tingle smashes into her perineum, and she softly moans: “Mmmph..”, her breath immediately stifling thereafter. She bites her right corner lip and rubs her left inner knee against her right, debilitated by the gas pedal. And, still, that burning feeling persists. She starts circling herself, immediately bringing in waves of pleasure—“No, no!.. I don’t want this..”, her mind demands to shake free, and her denying head signals. She stops herself, but her mind is reminded by her bladder’s unwavering fight. So she resumes. She circles again, and upon friction her eyelids weaken and bottom lip retreats, pressing itself into her upper teeth. She knows she doesn’t want to, but knows she needs something, anything, to help her ignore her bladder. And successfully she suppressing her urge, though it’s still there, masked under the brush of pleasure. She softly moans through bitten bottoms lips, squeezing her upper inner thigh muscles together and smothering the hand in between doing its work; but suddenly and accidentally her right foot pleasurably twitches, pressing on the gas pedal and accelerating her car suddenly forwards. She eyes escape her weak eyelids, widening to full attention while kicking her distracting hand out her moist self and onto her steering wheel. Her right foot immediately going for the brake and slams on it, overreacting. She doesn’t come to a stop, only significantly slowing herself down, but sufficient enough to throw her forward and accidentally squeezes a weak light-yellow spurt out from her raging bladder, soaking her light-pink panties warm. She doesn’t even feel it happen with the adrenaline rushing through her arteries. Only after coming back to her senses does she encompass a slightly cool clinging substance pressing in between her upper inner thighs. Her jaw flings open before a loud gasp blurts out, shocked she got herself so distracted to do this to herself. She quickly glances below, finding the red of her tucked dress against her soaked lips now dark red, having peed through her panties and into her red dress. “Fuck.. not the dress..”, her face wrinkles and inner voice disappointingly remarks. She quickly lifts the end of the dress settled halfway down her thighs up to her lower abdomen, untucking the wet spot out from between her wet lips, partially revealing them soaked through the translucent wetness of her now dark-pink panties. Dark-pink across the entire width and a nigh-dismissible circular dark patch hiding below her perineum and beneath her nigh-touching upper inner thighs: her pee got into the fabric of her dress below her pelvis. “Ahh, fuck, no! I so got it onto the seat!”, she scolds herself aloud. She slides her left hand between her wet upper inner thighs until the tips of her fingers touch the dress trapped between her butt and the seat, confirming she’s indeed wet the dress below her. “Ugh, nooo..”, her head shakes. One would think a light release would alleviate the pressure in her belly yet all this time she’s kept herself clenched whilst investigating her predicament, holding against an even more furious bladder, spoiled by its brief squirt of ecstasy and whining for more. “Ooo, come on, what is wrong with you..?”, she berates her swollen belly, her lifted dress revealing just how bloated she is and how red her skin has become. Her face winces and shrinks, eyes squinting and nose wrinkling with pursed lips as her spoiled bladder slams a wall of tingles into her sphincter, feeling her perineum burning with a vehement burning: it’s as though a kindling has been ignited between her upper inner thighs. And though the momentum of her hot flow burns into her sphincter, as if pressing a cigarette into her arm, a sensation having spread and now covering the whole front of her quivering lips, her soaked clinging panties have grown cold from the air conditioner running in her car. There’s nothing more enticing for release than a crotch burning to pee whilst covered in its cold remnants. Her lower belly, just above her pubic bone, begins to twitch micro-contractions again, a result of holding back her burning sphincter for a prolonged amount of time. They flutter out therefrom, converting into goosebumps that rumble like rolling stones against her skin. Prickling up her bloated belly and waist, up her breasts — wrinkling her nipples — and a portion diverging under her arms to the small of her back, finally converging back with the front at her trapezius muscles: her shoulders consequently shivering violently and the hairs on the back of her head standing up. Involuntarily, her head jerks and stoops forwards; she softly moans again, then shakes her head with annoyance, thinking she must look like she’s some possessed freak, contorting in her car. She slams her left leg back into her right, and casts its shin underneath her right calf muscle. She begins to swing it from beneath and out, over and over: every time her left shin is back underneath, she delays her leg there and twists her left foot over her right ankle, squeezing her twizzlered left leg tightly around her right, especially around her right thigh, trying warm her cold crotch with squeezing tension. She repeats this twizzler-ing process enough to slightly warming her cold self. And simultaneously, she compels her bursting bladder into obscurity, though its tingling only partially ringing into her awareness. She covers another twenty miles, committing to her twizzlered procedure another five more times during her commute. However, just short of the twenty-mile mark, she finally gains some peace of mind, relaxing, though keeping her thighs together, when no tingles emanated out from her belly, only feeling the pressure of her bloat. It was when she had covered just over twenty miles that her peace of mind was so short-lived: when a very sharp pang of pain radiated out of her right waist, she responsively throws her shoulders back and arches her back like a banana thinking a stretch would make it go away, but she only had made it worse. Upon arching her back, she inversely stretched out her bloat belly, sending a strong flowing urge swiftly into her crotch. She instinctively hunches forward as soon as she feels a few drops slip passed her sphincter and into her urethra. “Haaaa, no! No!.. fuckkk..”, as her leaking drops glide down her urethra, whilst her cut stream lags behind her clenched sphincter, and oozes out of her opening: they spread a short blanket of warmth into her cold-soaked panties, and the slight warmth spilling onto her cold skin shivers her whole body with heated pleasure. It’s like snuggling by a heater after having finished shoveling snow. Her mind soothed by the warmth ridding her crotch of its soaked coldness, but she is quickly thrusted back into the reality of her burning sphincter, to which her mind subconsciously dictates: “Just let go.” She bites her bottom lips just thinking about another spurt of hotness filling the coldness between her thighs, but shakes her head in refusal as she can’t release onto her seat, and especially not in her car, at least not any more. Yet, again, her subconscious prods into her awareness. “Just a little..?” She briefly squeezes her eyes shut while shaking her head again in refusal. “NO! No!..”, she refuses aloud to herself. And yet the downward flow of tingles only increases, reinforcing her subconscious urge. Her eyes begin to lightly water in its outer corners, blurring her vision whilst driving. She wipes her tingle-induced tears, but her eyes only burn upon being wiped and release more, not realizing her left hand had earlier touched her soaked self. Another wave of combined tingles rush down into her cold crotch, whilst her thighs begin to quiver with cold-inducing goosebumps. She begins scooting herself to the front of her seat and then back, allowing her to shift and rub her inner thighs against each other, though at the expense of her waist slightly twisting and irritating her yearning bladder. “Arrgh! Haa, Hoo, ooh! Come on, come on, just twenty more miles, just twenty more to go..”, she groans and exhales with every utterance. She looks as though she’s dancing in her seat with her shifting, getting closer to the steering wheel, then further, then closer, and so forth. But suddenly a massive urge smashes into her crotch, forcing her to freeze and stop shifting, needing to focus all her attention on tightly clenching herself still. She holds still, but her belly expands more. She clenches her pelvis muscles tighter, yet the burning only increases. With all her might, she presses her thighs so tightly together whilst clenching her sphincter her stillness ever so slightly fidgets from sheer rigidity. And though she holds herself in place like so, she can’t help but lose control over her breathing, gradually hyperventilating as she feels a few drops begin to leak passed her rigid self: “No!.. No!.. Come on!.. ooooOOOOH!.. mmmmMMMM!..”, she moans exasperatedly. Her mouth opens wide as if she’s silently orgasming whilst her warm drops seep down her urethra and spill its warmth over her cold skin, massaging her subconscious. Then another few burning drops seep past her clenched sphincter, though she’s frozen still as a block of ice. Her fidgeting turns into shaking, her muscles losing their constant-clenching strength, as though fatigued and shaking whilst doing one last weight-lifting pump. Her drops glide down her urethra and once again spill out of her opening, warming her cool skin. Her subconscious beckons: “You’re on your last legs.. just give in to this soothing warmth..” She shakes her head in denial, refusing to acknowledge she might just explode right in her seat for a minute of steamy hotness encroaching her cold lips. Her bladder having leaked twice, pushes full throttle, and, instead of drops, a trickle presses through from between the seams, her sphincter weakened by the part of her wanting to indulge her subconscious. “Haaw!..”, she orgasmically moans as hotness tantalizingly fingers it petrissage into her cold lips. “Mmmm..”, she suppresses the rest of her moan as she bites onto her bottom lips, whilst her yellow warmth flood the crevice between her outer lips and inner thighs. Her body shakes violently whilst this brush of warmth fills her cool panties. She accidentally floors her right foot onto the gas pedal as her body is tantalized with heated pleasure, which its accelerated jerk snapping her mind out of its hypnosis: she tries her best to clench harder. Consequently, her hyperventilation resumes as she fully acknowledges just how wet her upper inner thighs feel whilst her semi-loose-though-clenched, burning sphincter holds back the trickle. “Haa, Haa.. mmMM! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!..”, she exasperatedly belches as her bladder responsively strongly contracts back into her hold. Her pelvic lips, though shrunk inwards because of her clenched sphincter, once again involuntarily expand without her permission, causing her eyes to fill with tears of pleasurable release and her throat orgasmically expand, belching out a load moan of relief: “Haawyyeaaarrggh—MMMmmmm!!”, cutting her yelp once again behind bitten lips, letting the rest of it out as exhalation through her nose. Her hot flow harshly breaks through her weakened self, its yellow waters burning against her urethra walls and hissingly gushes into her dark-pink panties. It shines with exquisite light-yellow glow, exposing her red lips from sheer wetting-induced translucence, shifting the dark-pink spread-front upwards in a semi-circle fashion over her pubic bone and towards its panty waistline. Meanwhile, light-yellow pools between her panty-covered lips and pressed upper inner thighs, trickling down the makeshift milk-tea-colored channel in between her thighs, moderately streaming down the channel and spilling out from between her inner knees, spattering audibly onto the rubber carpet mat between her calves — a few drops trickle down her left calf, down the inner side of her shin and ankle, but suspend there — while her spattering yellow on the mat splatters its drops onto the insides of her shins. “Haa, Haa, fuck! Damn it! How can this be happening?!”, she yells at herself aloud, in disbelief that despite clenching as tight as she could her body just ignored all her effort. After splattering onto her shins, she finds wherewithal to cut her forced stream, hurting her urethra and sphincter as it burns. Her bladder having released for the first time a considerable amount, though still nothing compared to what remains in her belly, is satisfied for now, her stream-cutting clench capable of pulling back her urge, though is retreats with resistance. Seeing as she’s lost control twice, she floors it, becoming incredibly worried that she might empty herself with short bursts before she gets to her motel. She covers another ten miles without a peep of strong tingles, though receiving them nevertheless but weaker since her double release satiated her bladder. While covering this distance she gets a good idea of just how much she released: though her thighs were clenched enough to channel her warmth down its inner skin, half of her stream seeped down her soaked panties into her perineum and butthole, and pooled in those crevices, eventually passing through her dress and absorbing into the car seat below her. Having just passed ten miles, with thirteen remaining, another weak tingle creeps out from the depths of her belly. Before, it was her cold lips that yearned for reheating warmth, but now it was her inner thighs and perineum, though the latter was less cold than the former by virtue of her squeezed, folded crotch keep her body heat insulated therein. The weak tingle begins grow, this time, into stronger tingles, her bladder becoming hunger once again for release, beneath her belly and soon enough her thighs begin jiggling again. She swings her leg thigh vehemently back and forth, and so badly wants to move her right leg but can’t. Every time her left thigh swings wide open, a rush of cool air replaces the escaping warm air leaving her crotch and inner thighs. When she swings herself shut, the coldness of her inner left thigh presses into her right leg. She shivers again as the cold extracts goosebumps out of her skin It seems no matter what maneuver she tried, something was enticing her bladder to piss out its warming goodness. She slides her left hand across the front of her cool soaked panties, clasping herself tightly and pressing into her clenched self whilst continuing her swinging: at least she can keep some of her warmth tucked beneath her hand. As the tingles grow stronger, sure enough the burning returns, but this time her sphincter hasn’t got the energy to continuously hold her bladder back, and her subconscious exhausted much of its patience. It doesn’t take much time, clenched or unclenches, until a few drops begin to slip past her once again, oozing out of her urethra and spilling out onto her skin: it’s warmth spreading across herself and into the palm of her left hand in very brief pulses. Consequently, she starts swinging her left thigh harder, loudly smacking her jiggling left thigh into her right and turning her skin tender and red thereby, but more drops continue softly pulsate out of her and brief intervals of warmth spreading across her skin and the palm of her hand. And though she tinkles tiny drops, each time she holds them back to mere drops, her bladder invigorates with pressure. She tries to clench harder, but her sphincter refuses to tighten any further; and so as the pressure in her belly began to build up considerably and she occasionally releasing drops, she inevitably began to let out dribbling trickles instead of drops. “Haa!.. Haa!.. Haa!.. Hooo-ho-ho-ho, no, no, No, No, NO!..”, she began exhaling as the pressure reached a threshold, then started uncontrollably trickling without be able to effectively cut herself off. Her darkened pink panties fully soaked to waistline, her wet front having travelled over time, begins to twinkle grain-like glistening as her weak trickling slowly starts to shine through her panties, whose warmth-covered lips quiver as her weak sphincter muscles twitch with fatigue. Her bladder thoroughly entice, begins to fully contract, and her trickling grows strong without her permission. Her panties shine and lips become visible via translucence whilst her upper inner thighs flood with warmth. “Oooo! NO, NO, NO! WHY WON’T IT STOPPP!”, she yells to herself. She abruptly pulls over onto the side of the road, and bolts out of her driver’s side door. As she attempts stand up, she hunches forward and strongly hisses into her trickle-flooded panties and dress as she stumbles to feet outside her car. She has no wherewithal to clench herself as she’s standing, continuing to hiss into her panties, which are so fucking soaked a stream remains strong through the fabric, sloshing out her hot piss whilst her jiggling, narrowed-trickling-stream-covered inner thighs audible smack together, releasing that distinct sound of burbling squelches as flow is displaced by meeting skin. Her full-streaming self covers her knee-high red dress with streaks and splotches of dark red — not to mention the glaringly-glistening large jaggedly-circular splotch on the rear of her dress after continuously trickling into her car seat — soaking her dress, and leaking rapid messy drops of piss out and about from its end as she paces around her car to the other side, so that she could squat. Whilst she pace around the trunk of her car, her opening jiggling thighs allowed her stream to hiss without upper-inseam restriction, hosing out a direct strong stream of light-yellow perfectly out from between her thighs and loudly smack and patter the light-grey asphalt between her feet, splatter her piss onto the latter and onto the insides of her ankles and shins. This happens once more before she lifts her dress and squats. She bends down, totally out of breath and without an ounce of shame, lifts her dress and keeps it in place with one hand while pulling her totally-soaked panties with the other left hand to left and into her inner left thigh, pissing her strong stream into the fingers of her left hand as it pulls away the fabric. She loudly groans and exhales as her strong stream considerably strengthens when she fully relaxes, light-yellow flying far into the sandy dust at the side of road, loudly pattering into it. Her opening audibly hissing its high-pitch music as it vibrates out of her inner piss-soaked lips. Her piss rushes out, expanding out vertically from between her inner thighs. Eventually, her hissy gush dulls as her stream weakens, drawing a dark-grey line in the ground towards her as she nearly empties her bladder, until her lips weakly flow its light-yellow like a drinking water fountain that dribbles onto its own spout, her warm trickles finally lacking forward momentum and dribbling down her perineum and into her butthole, weakly trickling out therefrom and off her the bottom of her butt cheeks, forming a small of dark-grey asphalt beneath her pelvis. “A-A—Ahhhh!.. mmmm..”, her sigh of emptied relief stutters, then bitten bottoms lips beckon out from her nose. “Fuck. The car!..? How am I gonna drive the car now?!?!”, her mind alarmed, but so relieved of pressure is unable to determine a solution. She eventually drives her seat-soaked car to her motel, and changes in her car into something else more presentable; finally getting to her room, in which the first order of business was a hot shower. “Oh, wait, about am I going to do about the car?”, she remembers under the rain of the shower-head. “Ugh, tomorrow.. I’ll worry about it tomorrow..”, she too tired to bother.. Edited July 12, 2022 by HissGenerator (see edit history) skywalker58, omoEnthusiast1, orangelion and 4 others 5 2 Quote Link to comment
orangelion 456 Posted July 5, 2022 Share Posted July 5, 2022 Really great story! I'm glad you didn't split it into chapters. I dislike when people do that, unless each chapter has it's own climax. Otherwise you are waiting days or even weeks for chapters to come out without a wetting or peeing scene. HissGenerator and TheDudeIV 2 Quote Link to comment
HissGenerator 237 Posted July 6, 2022 Author Share Posted July 6, 2022 10 hours ago, orangelion said: Really great story! I'm glad you didn't split it into chapters. I dislike when people do that, unless each chapter has it's own climax. Otherwise you are waiting days or even weeks for chapters to come out without a wetting or peeing scene. I can’t write chapters that are, at least in my opinion, fillers. I get that stories become better when there is more context, but there should be something omo-related, foreshadowing wetting, or at least some kind of tension, otherwise I get immediately unmotivated to continue writing or reading, if it’s someone’s story (for whom I just skip to the good parts). Personally, I’m not a fan of overindulging on context, unless I am describing the physical features of a character. I just enjoy detailing the whole process of wetting, which is usually the bulk of what my paragraphs are dedicated to. Quote Link to comment
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