Xx4evRockerxX 702 Posted November 30, 2022 Popular Post Share Posted November 30, 2022 (edited) Oh boy. I haven’t posted much on here in a longggg time. But with some renewed interest, I want to get back into this story. I remember some interesting ideas I had from when I was actively writing it, and with some encouragement from a member of this site (you know who you are 😛 I decided to give it another go. But reading through it, I realized my writing style has changed a bit, as well as I found some parts I really just want to redo. So without further explanation, I present the re-writing and continuation of this story 🙂 Chapter 1 - Some Backstory Part 1 It all started by accident. Well… To clarify: It all started with an accident. The first accident I had as an adult. Notice I said “first” and not “only”? 😛 The accident in question happened a few years ago. Back when I was pretty antisocial, really. Largely by choice as well, as the general population did nothing to interest me. Innocently enough, I was running late for class one beautifully warm Spring day of Freshman year. So unusually warm, in fact, I had downed three refilled bottles of water, and was working on my fourth since I had last visited the restroom at my dorm before breakfast. With lunchtime nearing, I turned the last corner to the lecture hall a little too quickly and felt the effects of the first two waters slosh around my bladder. I quietly took a seat near the back of the hall, noticing the third water starting to make its way through me just as the lecturer started speaking. In college, nobody asks to go to the bathroom. There is no hand raising. There are no “can” vs. “may” discussions. Everybody there is at least 18 years old - all adults. And ultimately, there are no mid-lecture bathroom breaks. Sure. Anyone can go at anytime. It’s not that bathroom trips are forbidden or anything. Actually quite the opposite - everyone is free to go whenever. What isn’t free, however, is the lecture. At several thousand dollars per course, there isn’t much value in missing time. I’m sure there’s a dollar per minute calculation, but the long and the short of it is that it’s actually too expensive to take lecture time to pee. Accordingly, you either go beforehand, or hold it. Being as class had already started, the choice was pretty well made for me. So hold it I did…. For about 15 minutes. That’s how long it took my bladder to go from noticeable, to uncomfortable. The lecturer continued on as my hand continued to copy down notes, as if on autopilot. My mind, on the other hand, had wondered far away. Specifically, out of this hall, down the corridor, around the corner, into the Ladies’ room, into an open and available stall, and onto a toilet - where my butt really needed to be right then. But with 45 minutes left and an empty bank account as encouragement, I tried to settle my mind. Instead, all I could think about was my discomfort. I tried subtly shifting positions in my seat. I tried not so subtly shifting around. I bent my knee and tried sitting with my heel pressing into my groin. I tried just about everything I could think of. Which all helped in their own way, briefly. But it wasn’t enough to make it through the next half hour. With 15 minutes left, I was feeling full. My bladder bulged out into the waistband of my underwear and jeans, adding an increasing sense of pressure. More importantly, it felt heavy - gravity pulling down hard, adding to my concern about being able to hold it all. By this point, the third water bottle had well and truly found it’s way into my bladder, with the fourth starting to make a guest appearance. I had to do something or I really and truly risked peeing myself right there. I looked down the row on both sides of my and was thankful to find I was alone in the back. I placed my hand (the one not still taking notes - seriously, how was my brain managing that, and how much of a goodie-two-shoes could I be???) on top of my thigh. I then crossed my legs with my hand now between my thighs. From there, I casually slid my hand all the way up until my fingers were at my groin, and proceeded to begin to push them up, into my crotch. A) I can’t even describe how grateful I was for the feeling of immediate relief from the torrent pee I was holding. B) I couldn’t believe I was holding myself in an effort to not pee myself. Even worse, I was holding myself IN PUBLIC! I was adult! In college! How was this happening? No matter how much my conscious mind fought against the concept of allowing my fingers to push up between my legs to help me hold my bladder, my subconscious was thankful for the temporary relief. Temporary relief is what helped me get through those last minutes of lecture. But I needed to find my way to permanent relief as the lecturer wound dawn “Thank you all for your time and attention today. If there are any questions, I’ll…” I didn’t stick around for the rest of the lecturer’s sentence and I certainly didn’t stay for the likely dumb questions to follow that were probably already answered during the lecture for anyone paying attention. Not that I was, but I also wasn’t asking any questions. My notepad and pen were in my backpack and I was standing, making my way out of the lecture hall before anyone could see my hand between my legs. I wanted to keep it there. I so wanted to continue holding myself. It was the only way I knew I wouldn’t lose the battle against my bladder. But as soon as I made it out of the lecture hall, into the main stream of students and staff moving about the hallway, I knew I had no choice. I had to reluctantly let go of myself - regardless of the consequences. I was okay at first. I was squeezing every muscle I possibly could, walking quickly while moving my legs as little as possible (which was probably quite the sight for anyone passing by me). But I was okay as I made it to the end of the corridor. Rounding the corner, I expected to head straight into the Ladies’ room, into an open and available stall, and plop my behind right onto an ever so inviting toilet. I needed it so bad I could almost feel the sweet relief my entire body craved right then. Instead, I found myself stopped in my tracks, staring in horror at a “closed for cleaning. Sorry for any inconvenience” sign with a cleaning cart parked outside and the door to the Women’s room propped wide open. I knew I had reached the destination where my relief would take place. My bladder knew I had promised it relief. My whole body, sweating from the effort of holding my bladder understood I had made it to the bathroom. I was successful. My prize for reaching the bathroom though wasn’t the sweet feeling of my bladder releasing all this pressure into a much needed toilet. No. Instead, I felt my bladder contract involuntarily. I squeezed every muscle I could, as hard as I could. I held my breath and didn’t move. But it didn’t matter. I felt my pee being forced down by the relentless contraction of my bladder. I could actually feel as the liquid was squeezed down my urethra, straight toward my pee hole. I didn’t even know what to do. I was standing in the middle of the hall of the Sciences Building with countless people passing by and no access to the bathroom as I felt the muscles surrounding my urethra squeeze for a moment, wetting my light blue cotton panties. It wasn’t much, fortunately. And unfortunately. Fortunately, it wasn’t an actual stream. Well… it might have been a stream. It was hard to tell exactly what happened. But whatever it was, it was only a brief occurrence. But it was enough to feel the wetness of my underwear against myself. It was enough to make me concerned it was visible in the crotch of my jeans for all to see. It was enough for me ,a grown, adult woman, to truly worry about not being able to make it to a toilet in time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to feel any sense of relief whatsoever. If anything, it made my need even worse as I was now damp down there. I closed my eyes for a second and took a semi-deep breath against the throb from my bladder. I was a Science Major, and this was, at its core, a problem of anatomy and geography - volume of bladder capacity vs. physical location in proximity to an awaiting toilet. I should be able to think my way out of it - what were my options? I could wait for the cleaner to finish - although even as I thought this, I would’ve chuckled if I wasn’t worried it would cause another leak. I couldn’t wait that long. I could enter the incredibly tantalizing men’s room right next door to use a stall in there. It was a toilet, it wasn’t being cleaned, and it was painfully close. It was also, not a room meant for me nor my female parts, and so would draw entirely too much unwanted attention. I wasn’t particularly popular to begin with. I… I…. I couldn’t just stand there and try to come up with a magical solution any longer. I had to get moving. Back down the hall, around the corner, down another, out the front door of the building and… Now what? I was outside amongst hundreds of other students, slightly bent over at my waist in a mostly futile effort to put the least amount of pressure on my quite literally overflowing bladder, with mildly damp underwear and no immediate access to a toilet. Not only did I have no immediate access, I didn’t even know where the next closest bathroom was. Well, let me rephrase that. The next closest bathroom that I knew for sure where it was was in the library. I’d been in the ground floor and third floor bathrooms before. Hindsight makes everything so easy though. It’s also so much easier to think things through when you’re not actively concerned about wetting yourself. Standing there, though, squeezing muscles I didn’t even know I could squeeze, left my thought process slow and incomplete as I contemplated my next move. The Arts Building to my left? Had I ever even been in there? No, that wouldn’t work. I didn’t have it in me to wander a building hoping to stumble upon a bathroom. The Humanities Building to my right? Same. I’d been in there for a class in the Fall, but couldn’t recall ever going to the bathroom in there. “Ahh. Hmm.” I let out a slight… moan? Whimper? Doesn’t really matter. I couldn’t help myself make a pained noise as my bladder throbbed, threatening another contraction and reminding me to just make up my mind and get moving. Pick a plan and make it happen! My heart sank as I realized I could only absolutely remember where one bathroom was - the one I used every day since starting college - the one I had just used this morning - the shared Women’s Room on my floor of our dorm building. Typically speaking, the walk from where I currently was on campus to my dorm building would be about a 15 minute walk, up a fairly steep hill for about half the walk. This was not a typical day though. I NEEDED this walk to be quick and easy. 15 minutes was NOT an option. I didn’t know if 5 more minutes was an option, honestly, but I had to try. I set off at what I considered to be a brisk pace. Quick, short steps, trying to walk fast, but keep my thighs pressed together. It was awkward and difficult, but helped in some small way. 3 minutes of awkward, sort of speed walking later, I found myself passing the library (which contained the actual closest bathroom that I knew of) and at the start of the dreaded hill. Immediately, I knew I was in trouble. Walking in the odd, closed-thigh way I had been so far didn’t work for going uphill. It didn’t allow me to take big enough steps to be worthwhile. I was finally making real, actual progress towards relief, but my bladder had yet another new surprise for me. I don’t know what to call what was happening. Was I… oozing? Ew, no. Dribbling…? Maybe. Leaking? I don’t think so. Whatever you want to call it, I could feel my underwear slowly (but all too quickly at the same time) getting more and more wet with each step. I was wetting myself without actually peeing. I held my ID up to the scanner of the door to my dorm building, my underwear feeling like I could wring them out after making the walk up the entire hill. The only thing left I could hope for was that nothing was visible on my pants. Despite my doubts that I still had visibly dry pants, I pressed on, using up whatever waning willpower I had left to make my way to the third floor. The only floor in the entire building I was allowed to pee on. To clarify: once upon a time, when the college first opened, my dorm building was a male-only building. They didn’t really believe in co-ed back in those days. Since then, we’ve come a long way as a society towards, ya know, accepting women as equal and all that good stuff. Alas, the college hasn’t yet accepted fully our equality and the floors are separated by gender - the first 2 floors male, the third floor female. Normally, I almost consider this a good thing. The second floor honestly smells so bad. However, as I tapped my ID to the reader outside the only Women’s Room in the building - I cursed these facts. Not only did I have to make it all the way to the third floor in the first place, but the bathroom wasn’t meant for its current (female) occupants. Boys stand to pee. For better or worse, that’s a thing. Since the building was originally meant to be for boys only, there are certain… aspects of the building that were designed accordingly. Most notably given my predicament, the bathrooms. The floors are 25 rooms each, with 2 occupants per room for a total of 50 humans. The bathrooms have 10 toilets each - sounds like relatively plenty, right? WRONG!! There’s 5 stalls and 5 urinals on opposing walls. Any guesses who can’t use 5 of those toilets? That’s right - the floor with 50 females. The floor I resided on. There was always a line. It didn’t matter if you went at 2 PM or 9 AM or some random time after midnight - it was almost guaranteed to be a line. And sure enough, as I hung a right from the sink section to the toilet section, I encountered said line with 3 people in front of me. Ask any woman - she’ll tell you that waiting in line to pee is literally just a part of life. HOWEVER! Waiting in line when you literally can’t wait any more was the problem. I saw my 3 peers ahead of me at the same time I felt the grip I had on my bladder control slip. I didn’t care anymore and reached down to hold myself again. It helped in the slightest, but not nearly as much as earlier, in the lecture hall. “Hi, excuse me,” I weakly started, addressing everyone in line ahead of me. “I’m so sorry, but I I have to go so badly. Can I skip ahead of you?” The 2 directly in front of me started to move to allow me to go, seeing my absolutely embarrassing situation. The problem came with the first person in line. She looked directly at me, seeing me holding myself, bent over, with maybe somewhat wet pants (I still hadn’t looked and honestly wasn’t sure I wanted to know just yet), and replied, “I’m sorry, but I really need to go too.” My mind was reeling to catch up, but my bladder fully understood what was just said - and it wasn’t happy. The control I had so desperately curated, that absolute effort I put into holding it this whole time… All slipped away from me. I felt my muscles relax as my bladder gave a proper throb. Even though my underwear had been so wet already, I felt them get considerably warmer, even though I didn’t necessarily feel them getting any wetter. I half hobbled, half ran, partially fell from the entryway to the toilets section of the shared bathroom, across the main / sinks section, and into the showers section all while furiously grabbing myself. All while my bladder forced itself to begin fully emptying. I stumbled into the first open shower stall I could find and unbuttoned my jeans as fast as I could. I don’t even remember if I unzipped them, but it doesn’t matter - I yanked them down, leaned my back against the wall in a sort of modified wall sit, and finally, FINALLY relaxed, allowing myself to pee………. Edited November 30, 2022 by Xx4evRockerxX To post (see edit history) Wetlifter37, Keita123, thepwnerer and 10 others 8 1 1 3 Quote Link to comment
Valentoon 21 Posted December 4, 2022 Share Posted December 4, 2022 I can't wait to see where this re-write goes, the first story was one of my all time favorites 🙂 Quote Link to comment
Tentacool 1,385 Posted December 14, 2022 Share Posted December 14, 2022 Ooh, will there be more to this? 👀 Quote Link to comment
Xx4evRockerxX 702 Posted December 19, 2022 Author Share Posted December 19, 2022 On 12/14/2022 at 3:58 AM, Tentacool said: Ooh, will there be more to this? 👀 That’s my plan - just slow to actually write it Tentacool 1 Quote Link to comment
Tentacool 1,385 Posted December 19, 2022 Share Posted December 19, 2022 6 hours ago, Xx4evRockerxX said: That’s my plan - just slow to actually write it I know that all too well 😜 Quote Link to comment
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.